Chapter X

Kelpies

Clanker sat in the hold of the Dutchman, trying to get some sleep. But no one could sleep with that infernal organ blasting away. Jones hadn't let up. It was obvious he was frustrated. Who wouldn't be? Everyone was frustrated. They all wanted Bree back. Now they had a heading, but no one had a plan other than to storm wherever Bree was being held.

But if Bree couldn't break out herself…how could they break in?

Clanker shifted in his hammock, covering his ears. Why does 'e have to play that thing? The organ was reverberating throughout the hold, making his head sore. Jones would still play it from time to time, mostly with Bree accompanying him on her fiddle. But this time it was alone and so loud that Clanker was sure his brain would come out through his ears.

Hadras was in the hammock next to Clanker's. He had gently pulled his own head off and wrapped it in several blankets, leaving only a small gap for breathing. Even that didn't totally block out the sound.

Clanker tried to settle down, but the organ kept booming away.

We've just gotta find Miss Bree!

Jack Sparrow sat in his cabin, trying to concentrate. But he could hear the organ as well. He tried putting cloth in his ears, but even that didn't work.

Will came into the cabin, sitting down in the corner. Jack looked up, nodding to him, "Ah…Will. Has anything changed?"

Will shook his head, "No…I don't understand. We should have sighted land by now."

Jack nodded. Then he looked out the door, groaning, "Won't Jones bloody well shut up?"

Will couldn't help a smile, "I think he's pining."

Jack stood up, closing the door, "Well, couldn't he pine to himself?" He blew a sigh, then sat down next to Will.

"Jack…" Will started, wondering if he was speaking nonsense, "Elizabeth told me…there are things following us."

Jack looked at Will, confused, "Things? Ah yes, those things are called crewmembers of the Flying Dutchman, mate."

Will gave Jack a look that told him he was serious. "What d'ye mean, Will?"

Will spoke in a softer voice, "Elizabeth says she's been seeing shadows in the water. Big shadows."

Jack was getting worried, but he didn't show it. He simply nodded, saying, "They could just be fish…followin' us."

Will shrugged, "You might want to come out and give it a look, mate."

Elizabeth was already at the stern when Jack and Will came out. They joined her, leaning over and looking into the water. Sure enough, about five large shadows were following them. They were long and slender, keeping up easily with the Pearl, just behind her.

Jack bit his lip. He turned to Elizabeth, "When did they start followin'?"

Elizabeth shrugged, "I don't know…I just looked and there they were! Jack…what are they?"

Jack knew.

"Kelpies."

Will and Elizabeth looked at one another, confusion on their faces. "Kelpies?"

"Aye…goddesses of the sea." Jack moved away from the railing, calling back to Will and Elizabeth, "They were sent to sleep long ago…they've awakened. I have to talk to Jones, now!"

Will looked to Elizabeth. This wasn't the Jack they knew. This was a Jack that took all seriously.

The Dutchman was signaled to and a message was sent across. Elizabeth continued watching the shadows. She noticed that when the organ stopped playing, the Kelpies, if that was what they were, left off following the Pearl. Alarmed, Elizabeth ran to where Will was standing.

Jones came aboard, his beard curling in annoyance. He folded his arms over his chest and looked to Sparrow, "Well?"

Jack wasn't intimidated by Jones now. This was serious, "Jones, there's a group o' Kelpies followin' us."

Jones face changed. Concern showed in his pale blue eyes, "Kelpies? But how? They've been sleepin' for o'er three hundred years!"

Jack nodded, "I know…but they're back."

Elizabeth spoke up, "They left…as soon as the organ stopped playing!" She looked to Jones, "Are they following because you were playing?"

Jones looked to Elizabeth explaining, "They're blind. They can only follow by sound. But they can't come within twenty feet o' the Dutchman, so they followed the Pearl." He looked back to Jack, "We can't worry about them for now. I don't know why they're followin' us, but all I'm carin' about right now is gettin' Bree back."

Jack nodded, concern still on his face. Jones returned to his ship, and Elizabeth put her hand on Jack's arm, "Jack…what are the Kelpies?"

Jack looked from Elizabeth to Will, "Mates…before Jones became ruler o' the seas, there were gods an' goddesses. Ye've heard the tales o' nymphs an' Calypso an' all the rest of 'em? Well, the Kelpies were part o' that group. Jones had to fight with 'em before he could claim the sea as his own. The Kelpies were banished to the lowest depths, but for some reason they're back." He looked away, muttering, "An' I don't know what they're goin' to do."

After Jack had mentioned the Kelpies, Elizabeth had kept her eyes on the water. She didn't see any more shadows now that Jones wasn't playing his organ anymore. But then…was that one right under the waves? Maybe…

She was sure of it when she saw a head break the surface. Horror shot through her. She couldn't make out the shape of features, but she saw a head.

They were still being followed.

Down below the depths, far, far down, in a cave driven into the very bowels of the inner earth, the Kelpies all swam through to bow before a great throne carved from the very rock. On it sat a figure shadowed and unseen. A hissing sound was heard in the confined space. The Kelpies all spoke with one voice, "Mighty One, we come."

The figure hissed at them, cutting short the ceremonial greeting, "Silence! Did you find my ship?"

"Yes, Mightiness, but we lost her when the man of the sea stopped playing his song," one of the Kelpies answered.

The figure snorted, drumming skeletal claws on the arm of the living rock throne, "Ye did well, my blind scouts. But what of Orrin?"

The head Kelpie lowered its sightless eyes, "We found no trace of him. We can't hear him or sense him."

The figure snarled in annoyance, "Well…no matter. We shall deal with him later. I am awaiting the Sirens now. They were to bring me the soul of Calypso, formal goddess of my domain. I hope to add her power to mine. But you will continue following my ship."

The Kelpies all bowed, backing away, their sightless eyes staring straight ahead as they moved forward, using their senses.

The figure leaned back in its throne, sighing heavily. Something was wrong. Some power was keeping the plans from running smoothly. Be it Orrin or a newer, younger deity, the figure knew not. But it was soon to find out.

Bree sat in the corner of her cell, curled up slightly. Thomas sat across from her, looking up occasionally.

"Bree…I'm sorry."

Bree averted her eyes, trying to hide the tears, "It's all right, mate. It ain't yer fault I'm carryin' a child." She let a bit of humor in on the situation, "I should blame Davy fer that." She laughed a small, fading laugh.

One of the prisoners sitting near her scooted closer, putting his hand on her shoulder, "Don't ye fret, Miss Bree. I'm sure Jones'll come to save ye. Sounds like 'e really loves ye."

Bree choked on her tears. Oh, how she missed him! His strong, comforting embrace, his voice, his eyes…No point in wishin' Bree thought to herself. I'd best try to think of a way to get outta here. Davy may be comin', but now Beckett's got leverage.

Bree felt Thomas put his hand on her cheek. She looked up at her brother, eyes blurred with the moisture. Thomas gave her a faint smile, "Mate…I won't let Beckett touch ye."

Bree put her hand over Thomas', "Thanks to ye, mate…I fear for…I fear Beckett'll try to ransom me!" If Davy loses his heart again…it'll be my fault.

I should've kept the name Bad Luck Bree.

The young man walked along the tide line, his feet splashing through the small lapping waves. His sea green eyes scanned the fort, calculating and observing. Jones would need all of his men to take that place…unless he would go himself…but he can't.

As he continued on his walk, the young man mused to himself. Jack Sparrow has joined forces with Davy Jones…only a truly marvelous girl could do that…He grinned slightly, then continued with his thoughts.

As he walked, the young man mentally went through his plans. He had to infiltrate the fort somehow. It shouldn't be hard for him. He had certain techniques. And he had been watching the place for quite some time, learning the times of guard rotations.

Tonight…I'll make my move…

Grafter sat sullenly on the wall top, having to endure Scorch's taunting.

"Couldn't break 'er, mate? She's only a girl! How can ye not break her? She's pregnant too! Ye're losin' yer touch!" Scorch was grinning derisively.

Grafter spat at his feet, "Shaddap! Ye couldn't do better!"

Scorch continued taunting Grafter, "I think ye're goin' soft, mate!"

Grafter cuffed Scorch, "Never! I'm never goin' soft!"

Scorch spoke in a mockingly high-pitched voice, "Too kind to all livin' creatures? Can't bear to harm 'em?"

Grafter snarled, about to protest when Scorch looked out over the beach, pointing, "Lookit that!"

Grafter looked. Trotting along the tide line was a large, pure white stallion. It looked like an Arabian, but was the size of a Shire, though not as broad. It was the most beautiful horse human eyes had ever seen. Its mane tossed in the light sea breeze like foam atop a wave, the hooves shining like polished silver on the sand and the tail waving like a silky flag.

Scorch grinned cruelly, "I know…why not prove ye ain't losin' yer touch by killin' that horse?"

Grafter looked at Scorch, his eyes narrowing, "That might be one o' Beckett's horses!"

Scorch made a clucking noise under his breath. Grafter, goaded on, snarled, "Fine! Watch a true killer at work!" He fingered the hilt of his long dagger, "An' I'll use this, not a gun!"

Scaling his way down, Grafter reached the outside of the fort. He walked away down through the short stretch of trees to the beach, then looked back up at Scorch, who indicated he should keep going. Grafter turned back, keeping his eyes on the horse.

Grafter was a totally cruel and ruthless man. He had every intention of killing the horse, just to show Scorch he was as cruel as they came. Besides, he could get some sport out of it. It was fun to watch an animal's death throes.

As he neared the horse, Grafter whistled. The horse stopped, turning towards him, its dark eyes resting on him. It looked innocently at him. Grafter grinned. It must be somewhat tamed. He continued whistling to it.

The horse lowered its neck, taking a few steps toward the man. Grafter kept his dagger concealed, luring the horse closer and taking slow steps. Soon, he touched the horse's velvety muzzle. Smiling inwardly with sadistic delight, Grafter moved to the side, running his hand slowly down the horse's neck. He slowly inched the dagger from the sheath, readying it to slit the creature's throat.

Suddenly, the horse wheeled its head about, knocking the dagger from Grafter's hand. Grafter had his other hand on the horse's neck. He tried to withdraw it…but couldn't. His hand seemed to be fused to its neck. He tugged hard, but to no avail.

Panic overcame him. The animal began to move forward, going at a trot. Grafter had to run to keep up as he could not break loose. He tugged hard, putting his other hand against the neck to help pry the other loose. But then his other hand fused to the neck as well. Fear filled him. He couldn't get loose from the horse!

The horse whinnied in what sounded like derisive laughter. It took off at a full gallop suddenly. Grafter was whisked off of his feet, dragged along the sand, his legs coming in contact with the horse's blade-like hooves, cracking his shin-bone.

The horse headed straight for the water. Grafter opened his mouth and screamed in utter terror. The water rushed into his mouth as he was half submerged. But the strange horse's hooves propelled it upwards, allowing it to run straight over the waves, moving effortlessly at amazing speeds.

Grafter could not get free. He continued screaming as the water came closer to him, up to his neck now. As it closed over his head, he heard a voice inside his mind.

"I was sent and called by the rulers of the Sea. Hell awaits your soul."

Scorch stood, never moving. He had seen clearly what had happened, even if it was from afar. Grafter had been carried out to sea by the strange horse. The horse had run over the waves! Terror had struck him. And now what was he to tell Lord Beckett?

He slowly devised an answer, practicing it in a faltering voice.

"Er…sir…Grafter was taken by a sea horse."