Greetings. This is the first chapter ever begun in the year of 2007. This is post DMC but pre AWE.
PART II : THE DEVIL'S CONTRACT
Chapter XI –Into the Abyss
Scarlette sat on the beach, not a happy little pirate. The sun beat down on the black sand and she continued to sit, watching the lava run in the trough it had dug for itself. There was still a large amount of nearly tangible heat coming off the glowing liquid and even from yards away, she could feel it like a caressing breath of fire. She had not been sitting long when there was a cool wind at her back.
Normally in the Caribbean, small breezes were not suspect … but there was something about the timbre of this particular wind that Scarlette did not like. She turned to look behind her and was most disturbed to see an almost solid looking Morgan standing behind her. He smiled.
She shot to her feet, pulling her sword out and pointing at Morgan. He didn't move at all but continued to smile, giving her sad eyes.
"You're dead." She stated, very precisely. "I watched you die. It wasn't pretty."
"Yes, Scarlette," he answered. "I am most surely dead. Perhaps that is why I am here."
She looked more closely at him. His flesh was transparent and ghostly. "You're not a zombie."
"No. But I come to your call nonetheless."
"I didn't call you."
"Your power did. You're lucky. I could never call ghosts. I didn't know it was possible."
"I've never done it … maybe this is what he meant …" she trailed off, hand to her throat. "The demi-god told me he was giving me a gift … perhaps this is it." She looked up, a perk in her eye. "Does this mean I can control you?"
Morgan sighed. "I suppose." He met her eyes, suddenly more serious. "Why did you kill me, Scarlette? I was just beginning to like you."
"You were threatening the lives of people I loved, not to mention mine."
"I could have liked you, Scarlette. Under different circumstances, I might have loved you." Morgan sighed again and sat on the sand. His body did not cause the sand to indent. Scarlette sheathed her weapon and sat as well. He continued. "That is what that woman meant. She could see it, and warned me against it, even if she was cryptic."
"I'm sorry, Morgan," she answered truthfully. "I'm even sorrier now that you think you have to obey me. But I need your help. I need to get off this island and I don't know how to do that."
"They do," he pointed at the waiting Lyandize. Dacor and Raare strode up to her, as if on cue and sat near the ghost, their shining skin melting back into human flesh.
She turned to give the men her undivided gaze. "Well? Both the ghost and the demi-god have told me that you can get me off this island. How?"
Dacor and Raare traded glances and Dacor spoke to her before looking away. "There is only one real way to get off this island, and that is to retrieve the treasure. The treasure at the end of the Langue de Serpente used to be above ground and easily reached once the volcano erupted, but due to the earthquakes about here, the treasure and the hold it rests within have sunk to the bottom of the sea."
"Then I can't get to it." Scarlette sounded defeated, her temper not rising to the bait. "I'm stuck here. Barbossa will be free to do what he wants once he gets rid of Jack and the others … I'll be running around, dodging cannibals and dragons … and ghosts." She gave an indiscreet look at Morgan, who looked forlornly out to sea.
"There is a way …" Dacor began. Raare cuffed him and they tousled for a moment.
"Not that," Raare spoke, throwing Dacor's arm away from him. "We promised we would lead no other in that direction. She is better off trapped here."
"What are you two talking about?" she asked angrily. "What way?"
"We could always make her one of us," Raare was still arguing. "That would be preferable to … the alternative."
"What bloody alternative are you spouting about? Damn!" Scarlette was getting louder.
"He may agree without strings attached," Dacor growled, finally looking at Scarlette. "She is a woman. An attractive woman."
"I do not know what is going on," Scarlette spoke carefully, getting to her feet in the process. "But please understand that I would do anything to get back to the people I care for, whether it is to find them safe or to find them in need of rescue. I must get off this island."
Raare looked at her, his black eyes unmoving. "Fine. If they mean the world to you, then you will not mind trading the world for them."
Morgan had remained silent throughout this exchange but his eyes held a weight to them. He knew something. It seemed they all did, save for Scarlette. "Is there something you guys aren't telling me? Anything I would have to give up would be a fair price, if only I could save him in time."
"All will be answered soon." Dacor told her. He stood and Raare stood with him. They both offered their hands down to her. She considered them for a moment and grasped their smooth palms, lifting herself to her feet.
"Where are you going?" Morgan asked. Scarlette shrugged. Dacor looked back at him and pointed out to sea.
"Out there is our destination. We will protect her and make sure she comes to no harm … not that you should be concerned." He turned back to Scarlette. "You will be able to breathe while you are touching one of us, so don't let go of my hand or his. We can protect you as long as you do not forfeit your own safe conduct."
Scarlette stepped into the waves and looked up at the Lyandize chieftain. "What does that mean?"
Raare grabbed her hand firmly and she turned to him. He was looking out to sea, a rather startled look on his tired face. "There are things below the surface that cannot hurt you without your permission. Be wise, that you do not give it to them." Dacor seized her other hand and the two men began to wade into the water. The shelf ended more abruptly than Scarlette had been ready for and the water closed over her head in a shock of cold.
She had shut her eyes tightly against the water and when she opened them, they were already thirty feet below the surface. She held her breath for as long as possible, halfway not trusting the fish folk holding her hands. When she could bear it no longer, she took in a deep lungful of … something. It wasn't air but it didn't feel exactly like water. The taste of salt filled her senses.
The two Lyandize and she traveled for what seemed like a long time under the deep water. The light cut through the brine nicely, showing them clearly the path to the depths below. They followed the line of hardening magma until they came to a sunken ship. It's beaten and battered hull glowed in the light of the cooling lava.
It had once been a three masted ship and was covered in weeds, barnacles, and coral. There was rust on everything that even held a hint of metal. The light was very dim here and Scarlette could just make out the figurehead. It was a great serpent, a wyrm, really. There was not much left of the sails, but Scarlette could tell they had not been a European cut. This was an Asian ship, or had been however long ago it had gone into the sea.
The merfolk dragged her down to that ship and the three of them made their way through a large hole in the hull into what had once been a large cargo hold. There was treasure galore in here, but it wasn't much help to anyone without a ship that could sail. Scarlette was thinking very hard and trying to understand what the merfolk were showing her, but she could not fathom how she was to escape the island. An old shipwreck would not help her escape.
This ship was grounded on a coral atoll before and earthquake swallowed up the coral, Dacor explained. The sea claimed it years ago and it sank onto the treasure left behind by the sorcerer and his four disciples. The Captain who wrecked this ship swam from the islands, but did not get far before he was forced to concede to other methods of escape.
Dacor and Raare looked at her from their foreign faces. They looked wary and uncertain and their feelings were nearly projected onto her when a great tumult of sound echoed from somewhere outside the ship. Sound traveled faster underwater and Scarlette, kicking free of her Lyandize escort for a moment, rose through the hull to see what was happening. Raare immediately enveloped her in his arms as a rushing current of water rolled over them, sending the trio spinning.
Scarlette was shouting, but her words could not be conveyed underwater. She desperately wanted to know what was happening and why she couldn't see anything. The water calmed finally and Raare steadied her. Dacor came to her other side and they hovered for a moment. There was another ship resting on the bottom next to the first, only this one looked functional, for all its faults. It too was covered in growths, but the sails billowed with life and there seemed to be a crew moving around below.
Scarlette's eyes were wide and Dacor turned to her. She heard his voice in her head and rather than be alarmed, she was intrigued.
We are going to take you down there, but be very careful. Play not lightly with devils, for they may play back. If we cannot gain help through asking only, we will find another way.
There is no other way. Raare whispered in her mind.
Scarlette did not fully understand this cryptic message but she nodded and the three of them moved forward and downward towards the ghostly masts. They cleared the rigging and lighted on the deck amidst shouts and calls. Scarlette could sense something odd about the ship. It was not like the rest of the ocean, in the sense that she could breathe while on the decks. The Lyandize had released her and floated not too far out of reach. Her feet, however, were firmly planted on the deck.
She took all this in dimly, for she was understandably distracted. She was most preoccupied with the crew and their outward appearance. They were as encrusted with life as their ship but most of them had taken on characteristics of sea creatures. One whose head seemed to be ensconced inside a conch shell reached out and combed rough fingers through her trailing hair. She pulled away and found she could speak.
"Don't touch me." The crew just laughed at her, their voices suitably corroded as well.
"What is the meaning of this, Lyandize?" asked a particularly fierce looking one. He had once had a human face, she was sure of it. His head was not shaped right anymore and he looked more like a hammerhead shark than a human. He looked at Dacor and she caught a glimpse of his back. There were several crustacean legs sticking out of his spine. They seemed to move independently.
We do not answer to you, Maccus. Dacor was still floating but he had his hands near the coral spear on his back. Where is your captain?
"And I do not answer to you, though I felt the call of his creatures and brought us here," Maccus hissed at Dacor. Scarlette stepped between them and put a hand on the shark person's arm. He turned to her, showing his serrated teeth in a flat face. She did not flinch when he looked at her but tightened her grip on his arm.
"What do you think you are doing, woman?" he growled at her.
"You were a man once, weren't you?" she asked bluntly. Maccus froze, meeting her eyes. He wrenched his arm away from her and she let him.
"What do you want?" he asked, more of Scarlette than Dacor, though the Lyandize was the one who answered.
We need to speak to your captain. It is very important and cannot wait.
"Koleniko!" Maccus called out. Another of the strange figures appeared. He once again had the body structure of a man but most of his face had been taken over by a puffer fish. His lips were purple in the dim light. "Go tell the Captain he has company." The puffer fish man left.
"Thank you," Scarlette told him with feeling. Maccus stepped up against her and only her stubborn pride kept her from moving away. He was trying to scare her, but she was not easily moved.
"You should save your thanks, girlie," he gripped her face and turned it so she was left to look at him sideways. "Nothing you could want will come freely from this ship." He released her and stepped back as a heart-wrenching thump sounded through the water and the wood of the ship.
"What was that?" she whispered to Raare. He looked on stonily and spoke, his mouth not moving.
He comes.
Scarlette had been about to ask 'who', but another of the thumps ran echoing through everything. They came rhythmically, like an ancient heartbeat. The crew looked at her and laughed, a rough, abrasive sound.
"And who was it that finally managed to complete the complicated spells of the Langue de Serpente?" a voice called over the decks. Everyone turned to face the owner of the voice. Scarlette moved along the deck until she could see the speaker.
There, under the doorway of the cabin, stood an incredibly tall figure. At first Scarlette thought she was looking at a man with a long pale beard … but as her eyes focused, she could see that he was less man than any of the others on the deck. He spotted the two merfolk and limped forward.
Scarlette flinched as his pegged leg hit the deck. He had been the origin of the telltale heartbeat. She could clearly see him now. As far as she could tell, he had no nose and his eyes were deep set in a smooth face, surrounded by pale flesh that did not belong on anything that lived above ground or walked on two legs. His voluminous beard that had looked like great blond locks from far away was in reality a mass of tentacles, moving independently. He blinked wet beady eyes at the merfolk.
"Why have the Lyandize called my ship here?" he spoke to Dacor. "You understand that we are not on your beck and call, do you not?" Scarlette could see that this … man … had what appeared to be human teeth in his mouth instead of an octopus' beak.
Yes. Dacor poured a scalding rage into just that word.
He snarled, sending the tentacles sliding across his chest. He wore a large round hat that came up in two points at the front and Scarlette could not see any weapons in sight, but she still felt a dangerous vibe from the figure before her.
"I hope you have not called us again to save someone without payment," the man spoke, almost as if he knew why they were there. "If you've demanded our presence here, you must have someone who is need of my services and later, I of theirs."
No. Raare spoke angrily. We will leave. We will give you nothing.
"You serve me and will give me what I command of you," the man countered.
"Who are you?" Scarlette asked, tired of being looked over. She stepped forward, putting her closer to the tentacle-face person. The two mermen moved up to flank her, as if she had moved closer to danger. Perhaps she had. The man in front of her turned his cold beady eyes to her and looked her over rather as a cat looks at a bird.
"Is it not the custom on land to offer one's own name before demanding another's?" he asked of her, bending slightly, as if to see her better. He snorted as if he were sniffed the water in front of his face. Scarlette locked eyes with him.
"I suppose," she lifted her chin up a bit. "My name is Scarlette Sparrow."
A swift flurry of whispers traveled around the deck and the captain straightened up. Scarlette looked about nervously. For some reason, everyone on deck was looking at her with a much more vivid interest than before.
The captain began to laugh, a short guffaw with a beat of silence between laughs. "Sparrow." He spat the name as if it were an insult.
He began to circle around her. She wanted to turn with him to keep him in sight but pride forced her to hold her ground as he circled about. "And you don't know who I am. Rubbish. Well, you're early, that's for certain. I always knew he would send someone else. And one I cannot refuse, either." He stopped behind her shoulder and touched her floating hair with an odd look on his face. With a laugh, he turned and began limping away. Scarlette and her merfolk escort were both confused.
"Er … excuse me?" she scurried after the retreating form calling out all the while. "You never told me who you were! And what are you talking about, me being early?"
The man froze and turned, slowly. "You really don't know who I am, do you?"
"No," she answered, crossing her arms. "I think I would have remembered meeting someone as … charismatically challenged as yourself."
He stepped forward with his whole foot. "Don't get cheeky, Sparrow. I am Davy Jones, Captain of The Flying Dutchman, the ship you stand on now." He came in close again and this time, Scarlette did back up, bumping against Maccus. She gave a little gasp and froze, much to the crew's delight. "Are you not here because of Jack Sparrow?"
"What about him?" Scarlette answered, having a feeling that Jones was not talking about the fact that she needed to save her husband.
Jones smiled. "You really know nothing. Heh, heh. How curious. And what is your relation to that scoundrel Sparrow?"
She frowned. "I see nothing in this conversation that would give relevance to that information, Captain."
Everyone froze as Jones seemed to take in a deep breath. "I would start answerin' my questions, Sparrow, else my patience will wane. Who are you to Jack Sparrow?"
Scarlette looked to Dacor and he nodded, not coming any closer. He didn't want to be within reach of the squid-like captain. She turned back and met the eyes of Davy Jones. "I am his wife."
Jones blinked and began to laugh again. "Curious indeed. I'm sorry to hear that, Sparrow. Before long, you'll be a widow."
Scarlette's blood ran colder than the water surrounding her. "What do you mean?"
"Let me get one thing straight, first," Jones spoke, his eyes going to a curious eel that was snaking its way about his head. He reached up with his left … hand, a large crab claw, and snipped it in half, snapping up one of the ribbons like a piece of bacon. "Sparrow didn't send you here?" He chewed and Scarlette made a face.
"No. No one sent me here. I need to get away from these islands."
"And you came here to ask for what?"
"I'm not really sure," she answered truthfully. "Until a few moments ago, I was sure you did not exist. Debating that fact seems superfluous since here you stand. What exactly are we here for?" She asked the last of Dacor.
He can raise that ship from the depths … if he will agree to do so, we will crew the ship for you.
"I will not perform any deeds without payment," Jones announced, laughing shortly. The crew laughed with him.
"I'll pay you," Scarlette told him. The two merfolk sucked in water as the laughter died. She looked over. They shook their head vehemently. "It can't be that expensive." Jones laughed again.
"What is so funny?" she was getting angry now. The captain calmed enough to meet her eyes, a faint smile on his lips.
"I do not deal in the currency you are used to, Sparrow. My coin is much more … personal."
Scarlette blanched. "Oh, ick."
Jones changed completely, anger showing obviously on his visage. "I'm not speaking of carnal favors, girl. You're the first woman aboard this ship in its entire existence and my men are true men."
"I'll bet they are," she muttered. He was not amused.
"Are you makin' fun of me, Sparrow?"
"Wouldn't dream of it mate."
Jones frowned and shook his head. "I demand payment for services rendered. You boast of money, but can you afford this particular expense?"
Her eyes widened and a thought formed in her head. "What did you mean by telling me I would soon be a widow?"
He straightened up and made a motion with his head, as if he were trying to rid his neck of a crick. "Almost twenty-three years ago, Jack Sparrow came to me with a bargain. His ship under the East India Trading Company, The Pearl, had been sunk by a Company official for some infraction or other. He called me to the surface and struck a bargain with me. I would raise his precious ship from the depths. He would be the captain for thirteen years, and then he would join my crew. One hundred years before the mast, to crew aboard this ship. That was my price. I raised the ship from below and he renamed it The Black Pearl. He has two and a half months before his time is up."
Scarlette was frowning. "You said twenty-three years?"
"Yes," he gurgled. "It will be twenty-three in 78 days."
"Right," Scarlette's eyebrows tweaked at his precision. "So … if the deal was for thirteen years, what's keeping you from collecting? Not that I'm complaining, that is."
He smiled. "Whatever I am, I am fair. I never cheat men of their freedom, only their lives. There were ten years in between where his ship was taken by another."
"Barbossa," Scarlette growled. "I am going to kill him. Again. But you see my dilemma, right? I'm stuck here. I need that ship to be fit to sail, not to mention … be on the surface."
"You know my price," he answered softly. The devil never begs.
"But I don't want to stay the captain," she haggled. "I just want to use it to rescue someone and join up with my friends."
Jones gave her a dangerous look. "Who is it you are wanting to rescue?"
"I don't think I should tell you," she put a hand up to ward off his response. "It's not that I want to be difficult. I just have a feeling I shouldn't share too much information with you unless you're actually going to help."
"Understandable," he grinned now. "You do comprehend that in a little more than two month's time I will be coming after your husband. He will be part of my crew … or he'll be taken to the depths, to the Locker, the underwater purgatory of sailors never reaching their destinations."
Scarlette pondered. "Take me instead." Everyone reacted at that. The crewmen grinned and made catcalls. Jones lifted the ridge above his left eye in what must have been his equivalent of raising an eyebrow. The two merfolk started chattering at her, warning her not to move forward. She waved them off and continued. "Raise that ship for me so I can go off and rescue him and in two months and some change, I'll join your crew."
"So, it is Jack Sparrow you're off to save," Jones pointed out her mistake. She sighed and met his eyes.
"Do we have a deal?" she asked cautiously.
"No," he answered precisely and she stomped her foot.
"Why not?" she exclaimed. "If anything, you stand to gain. He will not just allow you to take him … but if I give my word … I'll do it."
He leaned forward. "I will gain nothing. I will have performed two favors and gained only one soul. Granted it is the soul of a woman, something this ship has never seen the likes of … but I still will not relent." He sniffed the air around her face and seemed to sense something there. "Sparrow is lucky to have a woman at all … let alone one that will sacrifice her soul for him."
Scarlette thought she saw a sadness on Jones' face for just a second, but it vanished as he turned to look at the dilapidated ship beside them.
"I will raise your ship, Mrs. Sparrow, but in thirteen years, you too will join my crew. That is my price, and I will not be moved."
"Fine, except for one thing," she called out. He turned to face her. Raare tried to pull her back and she threw him off.
Do not do this, Scarlette! he warned. There is no going back on an oath sworn here.
"Jack's safety comes before my own," she answered, ignoring the merman behind her. "He will not be happy if he learns of this bargain, but I will do it, if it will save him."
Nothing you can do here will save your husband, Dacor added. He has already told you that.
"That is why I make my second request," she answered. "Extend Jack's time to end at mine as well. Courage to go through with the deal will come with not being alone."
Davy Jones laughed again. She seemed to just be amusing the hell out of him. "I will give Sparrow no more time than he has had already. I won't take him alone, if I can help it. There is another that has yet to pay their debt to me besides Jack Sparrow."
Scarlette looked interested now, but apprehensive. The only way Jones could take both Jack and another to the depths would be for them to be on the Pearl. "Who is it? Gibbs? Armstrong?"
"I do not know these names. The one I seek has already spent his time above and has just recently rediscovered the pleasures of the sea. I saved him from the abyss many years ago. I could not take his soul then, and so I made a bargain. When what was guarding his mortality was finally lifted, I would come for him. But when that day came, he was beyond my reach. He has been careful to stay on or close to land for a very long time … but he sails now."
Scarlette took a few steps back. She whispered something under her breath and tripped over a line on the deck. Falling to her rump, she sat there for a moment.
"Bootstrap … Bill Turner … you're after him." She looked up and saw confirmation on Jones' face. "That's why he never came with us … why he looked so sad every time the Pearl left … and Jack knew. Jack knew all of this and never told me." She looked up and glared. She got to her feet, ignoring the hands of her Lyandize escort.
She stepped right up to Jones and met his eyes with a fierceness he could not ignore. "I want that ship on the surface and in sailing condition."
"And what of my price?" he asked again. She tilted up her chin and glared.
"Give me 78 days."
"What?" the crew rang out in muffled gasps and gossip. Many people had tried bargaining for more time but no one had ever asked for less. Jones stepped forward. This time Scarlette held her ground. Even as a curious tentacle reached out and touched her flowing hair, she stood there, fastidiously serious.
"You do understand what you are asking, nay, demanding?" he answered, giving her such unobstructed eye contact it was frightening. "In 78 days, I will accost you, whether you are on that ship, the Pearl, or land."
"No," she answered. "I had not believed in you until I saw you, but I have heard the stories. You cannot step on land. That is why Bootstrap was safe until now."
He laughed. "It is true, I cannot gain a foot on land, but once every ten years." he spread his arms and shook his head slightly. "It has been twelve years since I last set foot on land. If need be, I will come after you, wherever ye be."
"But how fast is this ship," Scarlette smiled. "I assumed you travel above water at times … are you fast enough to catch the Pearl?"
"There are ways of taking down ships without speed enough to catch them, Mrs. Sparrow."
"Yes," she answered, smiling now. "But having too many guns slows a ship. All the firepower in the world won't help you if you can't catch us."
"I wasn't speaking of cannonade, Mrs. Sparrow."
Now she was listening. "And what were you speaking of, Captain?"
He sneered, reaching out and touching her hair again with his right hand. They all seemed very enamored of her free flowing hair. "Have ye ever heard of the kraken, lass?"
"It's a mythological creature, based in Greek Mythology as a sea titan that was supposed to eat … somebody. Ariadne … Andromache … Andromeda … one of those … the last movie I saw portrayed it as a giant squid thing. That was 20,000 leagues under the sea, a completely different story … but that was a long time ago."
Davy Jones finally looked perplexed. "What is a movie?"
Scarlette blushed. "Nothing. Nothing at all. The Kraken doesn't exist."
Jones laughed louder than ever and the crew echoed him. "I have not had this much fun in a long time, Mrs. Sparrow. You have your deal. And it was Andromeda." He reached suddenly for her right hand, enveloping it in his. There was a large tentacle and a smaller one protruding over what was still a human hand and he wrapped these about her wrist. She blanched and tried to pull away, but he held her fast.
"In 78 days, I will come for all three of you. There's no need to count … you'll know when your time is up." He wrenched his hand away from hers. She shook it in the water and the little bits of squid slime that had clung to her skin floated away on the current. She looked at her palm and sucked in a deep breath.
"What is this?" There was a dark, pulsing thing on her palm. It sat there, firmly attached and moving, and then it slowly vanished into her skin, leaving no trace of itself. She flexed her hand and looked at the back of it, searching for some sign that the mark had been there.
"That, my alluring lass, is the black spot," Jones answered with a relish. "It will return when your time has been spent."
Scarlette wiped her palm on her leg discreetly and was suddenly tossed to the floor as The Flying Dutchman gave a lurch and shot upwards. The crew bent their legs expertly and the Dutchman broke the surface with a great sound of crashing water. Scarlette went sliding towards the edge and a tall crewman with a bony crest of orange coral covering his face grabbed her around the arm and hauled her to her feet.
"Don't die yet, little lady."
"Palafico, bring her here," Jones ordered. The orange crested man dragged her forward and she lost her footing again. He tried to pull her roughly to her feet again and she snapped.
"Let me the hell go!" she commanded in a forceful tone. He hesitated and dropped her arm. She stood on her own, brushing water away as it continued to cascade down from the masts. Jones raised another 'eyebrow' at Palafico's obedience to her.
"Well," she grunted. "That was exciting. Where is my ship, sir?"
"Behind," Jones growled, his flesh much more yellow above water. Scarlette stepped to the side and looked astern. There was her ship. Its sails were a blue green and the wood was mended with the natural selection of coral and barnacles holding it together. It didn't look very seaworthy, but it was floating. Raare and Dacor were already scaling the hull.
"Pretty," she wrinkled her nose. She turned back to Jones. "Well, I would say it has been a pleasure but I'd rather not lie to you. Ta, gents."
"Sparrow," Jones followed a bit as she started for the stern's guard rail. "You cannot climb aboard that ship from the water."
"Oh?" she answered cheekily. "I'm already soaking wet. I think I'll live."
"That coral reef attached to its hull will shred you to pieces as the sea dashes you against it." He sounded so matter of fact that Scarlette frowned.
"Why do you care? Why are you telling me this?"
He smiled. "You belong to me, now. I tend to take care of things that are mine."
"I belong to no one, Jones," she snapped. "But since you were so kind to warn me, perhaps you'll lend me a rowboat and charge me even more."
He grinned and looked into the setting sun. Scarlette followed his eyes as the red disc fell below the horizon. How many hours had passed since she'd entered the sea? When the sun had vanished, Jones called out in a merry voice. "Maccus; Show Mrs. Sparrow how the crew travels."
Scarlette felt a rough hand on her neck and she flinched. Maccus dug his fingers into her skin and the world blurred. She felt a vague and distant sense of movement. The world stopped moving and she fell to the deck. This deck was not the Dutchman however. She looked up and Maccus laughed cruelly at her confusion.
"What did you just do?" she asked angrily, standing on unsteady feet.
Maccus grabbed her by the throat and pulled her in close. "You'll learn in time, girlie. You'd better learn quick, too, 'cause once you're a part of the crew … there's no telling where on the ship you'll end up. Some aren't too particular on how they get theirs, you know. You might just be too much to resist." He started to pull her in closer to do god-knows-what and Scarlette had finally had enough.
She popped her hand up at about his elbow and freed her neck. Without missing a beat, she slammed the heel of her hand just below where his sternum would have been. The effect was very much the same as if he had still had all the normality of a man. As he doubled over, she kneed him in the face. His ultra sharp teeth tore the flesh of her leg and in a surprised moment of pain, she faltered. He rose up and slammed her bodily against the mast. He gripped her shoulders in his rough hands and lifted her, blood running from his face.
"This'll teach you to mess with me, Sparrow," he reared back with one arm as if to pommel her but he was pulled back roughly. Scarlette fell to the deck, just managing to keep her feet. She leaned against the mast and looked up. Dacor and Raare were being held by two crewman as Palafico and Hadras, the conch shell crewman held Maccus at bay. Jones limped up to his shark and frowned.
"You will leave her alone, Maccus," he snorted. "Understood?" The last word was like a slow shiver of sound, the vowels very long and menacing. Maccus nodded.
"Aye, cap'n." Maccus looked at her. "But once she's crew, she'll have us to contend with."
"I'll be the say on that when that day arrives," Jones spat. He looked at her and back to the men. "Back to the ship, men." Scarlette watched as the crew seemed to bleed through the air and appear back on the other ship. Jones remained and limped forward to where Scarlette was pressed to the mast. He looked at her with an indiscernible past in his eyes.
"Barbossa's a nasty piece of work for a lass like you to take on by yourself." He said all this in a way that made it sound as if he had something to offer.
"I'll manage just fine, thanks," she frowned, sliding along the mast to get further away from the oppressive force that was Davy Jones. He stabbed his claw into the wood of the mast in her path. She jumped but did not vocalize her fear.
"I don't help mortals without payment, Mrs. Sparrow," he growled. "To insure the return of your soul, however, I will be willing to aid you in this endeavor."
"Like I said," Scarlette held her breath. "No. A kraken pulling down The Necromancer would kill everyone. I only want to kill Barbossa."
He smiled and his right hand fell to his belt. He pulled out a sword that chimed with sound as it cleared the scabbard. The blade was straight and gleamed a cerulean blue color. It was a claymore, and so obviously a two handed weapon but Jones whirled it around one handed like a pro, no fatigue or control problems. He stuck it into the deck at her feet and the scabbard as well hit the deck with a clatter.
"Aoi-rozuka," he spoke the name expertly. "You may have the use of it to assail your foe. No mortal has ever wielded this blade but I will allow you the privilege. It will insure that you and your coterie return to serve."
"Gee, thanks," she said rather sarcastically. Instantly curious however, she called out to the squid-captain. "You do not strike me as someone who gives aid lightly. Why are you helping me?"
"To assure my souls return, lass," he answered. She shook her head.
"No. You already said that. Why are you helping me?"
He looked at her then, his eyes holding interest of ages past. "Because you remind me of someone."
"Who?" she asked, meeting his watery eyes and watching them darken with memory of times no mortal alive that day had seen.
"Go on, Sparrow," he answered. "Save your husband, but I will have you both, make no mistake." He leered at her one last time and moved through the air to his ship. The Dutchman sailed off a bit and angled downwards, the water closing over it and making the sea ripple in its wake.
"Well," Scarlette shivered, gripping the handle of the large sword and wrenching it from the deck. "That was interesting."
….
Bootstrap gripped the helm of the Pearl and felt his blood run cold. He shivered and looked about for signs of a breeze. What could have made him feel so frozen? There was nothing about that would account for the feeling, no chill winds, no ice on the rigging. It was even midday. When in doubt, a sailor will always turn to religion, or superstition. Bootstrap was not a very religious man.
What he did not know, was that the devil had just spoken his name, conversationally to a crew far away. Bootstrap knew that something was amiss, but not quite to what it pertained. He suspected Jones was up to something, but no screeching of giant squids hailed him, no torrents of water bombarded him. He felt … safe, at least immediately.
It had been eight days since the Pearl had left the island chain. They had finally caught up to The Necromancer and felt fit to tail her, even running low on rations as they were. Gibbs knew that The Necromancer had to be running low as well. The Dauntless, having lost many on the volcanic island, had gone back to Port Royal, without the Commodore to lead them. It was some relief to those aboard the Pearl that Commodore Norrington was no longer a danger to them.
Will and Topher were happily reunited with their women, Elizabeth and Robin just as happy as pie. Those on the ship that were still agitated over this current mess were not making things easy for everyone else. Gibbs had given the order to tail The Necromancer as soon as her masts had come into view. He had met some opposition but it was Bootstrap who had taken the helm without quarrel and led the dark ship towards her foe.
Lizzy was pouting, sitting near the stern and watching the sails of the ship before them undulate in the wind. Sean and Tony, followed closely by Ragetti and Pintel noticed her and took time off from their duties to sort of surround her. They all sat around her in a sort of semi circle.
"What's crackin', babe?" Tony asked, smiling at her. She sighed and brought her hand down from where it had held up her face.
"I don't think we should have left Ryoko," Lizzy spoke sadly.
"She'll be fine, I'm sure," Pintel nodded, sounding smarter than he probably was. "Plus, we've gone to rescue Ol' Jack. He can help us get her back. He's in more danger anyway, what wif being right next to Barbossa an' all."
"I suppose," Lizzy whispered. She looked up and searched their faces. "But you don't know her like I do. If we had found her and taken her with us, I would have known she was fine, but like this, I'm almost sure she's going to find her own way off that island." Lizzy shook her head wildly and brought her knees up to her chin. "She'd do anything to save Jack."
"Well, what really can she do?" Sean asked, raising his hands and shoulders in a shrug. "She's stuck on an island with cannibals and dragons and hostile mermaids, all of which might eat her, given their dietary preferences. She can't much go to their help, can she?"
"She performed a favor for the Lyandize," Lizzy answered. "In their culture, she's as close as a member of their society, and they have the same power the Tyrnise do. They can convert her into one of them, in which case she would be able to swim to us. The Lyandize and Tyrnise are periodically enemies. I would hate to be pitted against her later on. As for the Mekwahz … she is a woman, and does descend from a tribe that partook in ritual cannibalism, not to mention she's a linguist. It wouldn't take her long to procure aid from them."
"Yeah," Ragetti bantered. "But there's still those great bloody dragons flying 'bout. How'd ya think she'll 'andle 'em?"
"Well, we didn't really have much problems with them while we were there," Lizzy answered again. "And Heather did manage to ride one. Ryoko's name means 'two-headed dragon' as well as 'demon caller'. Maybe that means something. Although if she comes riding a dragon through here, I'll be very surprised. Make no mistake, though. She'll get off that island somehow."
Anamaria suddenly came running up from below decks, a wild look on her face. Kwan Lyun followed her up, looking distressed.
"Child, what is wrong?"
She bolted towards the helm where Bootstrap and Gibbs were conversing and held out her hands. "Bind me!"
"Er … what?" Gibbs asked. She hissed and jumped in frustration.
"Do something! Kill me! Quickly, or he will finish the spell and be able to control me."
"What's happening?" Elizabeth cried from her place at the gunwales.
"Barbossa is doing a spell," Anamaria answered nervously. "He will control all the dead within range soon. You must do something or I will turn on you! Please!" She threw herself in Gibbs' direction. He caught her and wore such a strange look on his face that she had to push away from him.
"Tie her to the mast," Elizabeth suggested. When no one moved to take action, she tried hefting a large coil of rope that had been stored around one of the marlinspikes. The rope was far too heavy for her to lift.
"No!" Anamaria screamed shrilly and fell to the deck. Her hands convulsed and curved into claw like shapes as she shook uncontrollably. Kwan Lyun tried to help her to her feet but she threw him off with a snarl. He flew a bit farther than normal. This was no longer Anamaria. She had been strong, but women did not throw grown men several feet into the air.
She stood in a flurry of motion, her eyes hungry and foreign. Her arms straightened out and her claw-like fingers scrunched up. She immediately went for Elizabeth, who was closest. Will was not close enough to intervene, but Gibbs was. He froze for only a second, but that was all that was needed for her claws to wrap around Elizabeth's throat.
Gibbs tried prying off the dead woman but her strength had surpassed a human's abilities. Elizabeth was gasping for air and all around the ship, dead things were trying to board.
"Fire! We need fire!" Claudia ran up and pulled a small cylindrical piece of plastic from her pocket. She hit the switch and fire flared up from the lighter. She caught it on Anamaria's sleeve and the fire began to eat at the woman. Elizabeth slumped, now unconscious and Will cut Anamaria at the wrists. She fell back, stumps where her hands used to be. Gibbs pulled the pieces off Elizabeth and tossed them overboard. Anamaria had turned into a moving fire person, a pyre in the shape of a woman. She never made a sound.
Will moved forward to finish her off but Gibbs held him back. Kwan Lyun held up a sword, a Chinese sort of Tai Chi blade, and hefted it expertly. He beheaded her so suddenly, the head stayed on the shoulders for a moment.
Finally, her burning body slumped to the deck and spent itself, the flames dying and showing her form, blackened and unrecognizable. Before she could be moved, skeletal figures boarded the Pearl, climbing frantically up the hull and lighting on the deck. It was broad daylight and the deck was crowded with corpses. The crew was quick in their feet however.
Swords were swinging, guns going off, and everyone was screaming or shouting in some form or other. Elizabeth had woken up and was squeaking as she fended off attackers with one of Will's swords.
Bootstrap was going back and forth with a particularly quick zombie, for that's what was assailing them from all directions. He swung at the zombies knees but it jumped, even without eyes to see what he had done. It flew at him, teeth bared and he head butted it. Its head fell back and detached from the neck with a loud snap. The skull rolled across the deck and the body seemed to 'look' at Bootstrap, putting its hands on its hips in a rather annoyed fashion. Bootstrap paled.
The Pearl's crew had been fighting hard but they were overwhelmed. Soon, everyone was held at bay by the zombified corpses. Everyone had been so preoccupied that they hadn't noticed The Necromancer broad siding them.
Barbossa boarded grandly, caressing the dark wood of the ship he'd once been captain of and grinningly sneered at the captured crew. "Honey, I'm home."
"You're really weird," Tony told the captain.
"Freak!" Sean exclaimed, convulsing.
The crew was all held captive, the zombies having disarmed everyone. They showed an odd intelligence, reflection on their creator perhaps.
"Greetings, boys and girls," Barbossa growled. "If you don't mind too much, I'll be taking back me ship. Say hello to your new captain." He flourished back and a strangely familiar face came to the fore. It was Norrington.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Claudia spat angrily. "You're dead!"
He smiled. "I suppose that's a matter of opinion, isn't it, Miss Gonzales."
Barbossa cackled. "Norrington here's decided to join my side."
"James Norrington!" Elizabeth spoke harshly. "What do you think you are doing?"
"How dare you ask me such a question," he accosted her, grabbing her face in a firm grip. "You, who all your life have gotten what you wanted. I have been denied in every way. You left me … Robin discarded me … and I was left to be tricked by that Diana witch you called a friend. Not to mention being thwarted at every turn by your friends, those blasted Sparrows. Now, I will have what I want. I want you all to suffer!" He shouted the last, pushing away from her terrified face. "I will captain this ship, and you will all obey me, or he will order his pets to tear you limb from limb."
Barbossa smiled sadistically. "Now that the terms have been spoken so clearly by our esteemed Norrington … what have you to say about all this?"
"Where is Jack?" Kwan Lyun asked grumpily. "Is he alive?"
"He's fine," Norrington answered. "He's locked below in a brig having to deal with a rather annoying woman every few minutes, but besides that, he's just fine."
"He'd better stay that way," Marty grunted. He was smacked by Norrington as the ex-commodore paced by him.
"He'll end up as befits him," Barbossa growled. "I have a feeling the Mrs. will show up at some point, though how she'll get off that island is anyone's guess." He laughed as if he had told a particularly uproarious joke.
"You should practice not underestimating that woman," Norrington groaned. "She has a most irritating tendency to surprise us."
"And what is she going to do, hmm?" Barbossa asked sarcastically. "She's stuck on that island. We've not seen her face for a week. Honestly, what can she do anyways?"
A loud boom ripped through the air and one of the zombies exploded.
….
Jack sat up straight in the brig when he heard the sound of cannon fire. He looked about the cell but could see no way to get near a port to see what was going on. He only hoped he didn't get caught by a stray cannonball.
Ruby, who was once again sitting on a gunner bench flaunting herself in his direction gave a little squeak and toppled off the bench. Cannons ripped again and this time, the blast found The Necromancer's hull. Jack hit the deck and didn't poke his head up again until the echoes of the blast stopped ringing around the hold.
Most of the port side was gone. The ship was still afloat, but there was a nice panoramic view of the outside. Jack stepped free of the jail seeing as, once again, he had luckily been freed by cannon fire. He kept low to the deck and looked outside.
A Chinese frigate, covered in green weeds and other aquatic plant life was floating just a few leagues away and standing proudly on the deck was Scarlette, her newly black hair flying in the wind. Jack was startled at her appearance. It was almost like looking into a mirror. She called out to Barbossa, who by now must have been on the Pearl. Pointing her swivel cannon in the zombified captain's direction, she grinned.
"Now, we can negotiate."
….
"What do ye want, Mrs. Sparrow?" Barbossa growled, stepping to stand in front of everyone.
"I want you to bloody die and stay that way!"
"So sorry, Ma'am," he grinned. "Anything else?"
"I'll settle for you getting the hell off that ship and returning my husband."
Barbossa leaned against the gunwales and sneered. "Here's what you don't understand, Sparrow. I'm immortal, powerful, strong, and I have the ability to control all these bloody dead things on deck here. What do you have?"
Twelve people paraded up from below decks, their skin a golden color, their hair all assorted. "I have twelve warriors trained from birth to fight, and they're all immortal, babe." She smiled. "And your zombies aren't worth shit against things that don't die."
Barbossa looked around and noticed that all the Lyandize had their arms cocked back, their spears ready to let fly. He met her eyes with his watery green ones and nodded. "Aye, this is a standoff of sorts. But I'll make a deal with ye. We all need to dock and gain supplies. The nearest port is an island not far from here called Martinique. We'll dock there, all three ships, and stock up on supplies. Then, we'll mosey on over to the Isla de Muerta … and have ourselves a duel. If you can manage to kill me, then I will relinquish my claims on your ship, your husband, and your life."
"Because you will be dead," she answered bluntly.
He chuckled. "We shall see who is dead by the end of this little dance."
"Get off that ship," she commanded. "Now."
He raised his hands and chuckled. "Aye, Missy. Off we go. Norrington and I will leave you to yours."
"And take your damn zombies with you," she added. He gave her another of his nasty grins and shook his head as he turned to leave.
"Get rid of them yourself, Sparrow." He started over the gangplank, followed by Norrington, who gave Scarlette such a glare as he left that Barbossa turned around and yanked him by the collar. "Don't taunt her, you fool."
Once they had vacated and The Necromancer had pulled away and begun sailing towards what must have been Martinique, Scarlette beamed at the others.
"Well … where would you guys like to go?"
Gibbs blinked at her in shock. "Er … I thought we were goin' ta Martinique and then the cursed Isle."
"We don't need to … not really. I suppose finishing Barbossa off would be nice, but it isn't necessary at this point."
"But Jack is on that ship," Bootstrap pointed out. "Do not tell us you mean to leave him to that devil's mercy?"
Scarlette laughed throatily and surprised everyone. She pointed at the cabin door of the Pearl and everyone looked. Jack leaned against the doorframe comfortably. He was drenched with water but other than that, he looked fine.
"How the blazes did you get over here?" Gibbs asked loudly, nudging his captain in the arm to make certain he was real. Scarlette laughed again.
"I didn't spend my entire time stuck aboard The Necromancer fighting, you know," she announced. "I knew where they were keeping him, and I knew where to aim to give us the best advantage."
"You're getting quite good at surprising our enemies, luv," he called out. "Now lower the anchor and scurry on over here so we can formulate a plan, eh?"
Scarlette opened her mouth to refuse, thinking about Jones and how hard it would be to keep such a big secret from all those involved, but Jack had managed to keep the same secret from her, and they did need a plan, at least to vanquish Barbossa for the last time. She just didn't feel up to the battle anymore. She turned to give the order but the Lyandize had already lowered the anchor and put the ragged torn gangplank of her ship on line for boarding. She shook her head and scaled into the rigging instead. This was a method she was sure would get her across. That rotted old gangplank looked as if it would crumble if she put her weight on it. She found a rope she was confident in using and targeted the deck of the Pearl.
She swung over and landed lightly, throwing her hair out of her face. Jack was beside her in less time than it took for her to compose her face. He froze at her rather worried stare and pushed a stray strand of hair out of her face.
"It's all right, now," he told her.
"For everyone's sake, I hope your correct," she answered, which is what one says if they know it isn't going to be all peaches and cream. She tried to soften her face and not look so afraid, but the promise of pain and suffering to come left her hardened. Jack drew her into his arms and held her for a moment, not understanding exactly what was going on. He looked at the other ship, her still nestled in his arms, and raised an eyebrow.
"Scarlette, darling …" he released her and she looked at his face, which was focused on her ship. "How exactly did you come by that ship?"
A dozen answers ran through her mind but he was not looking at her. He did not see the lies flash across her face. Thinking quickly was luckily her forte and she knew she could not tell him she had merely won it playing cards.
"It is the Langue de Serpent's bounty," she answered. "The treasure is in the hold and the ship was part of the … booty." She'd been about to say bargain but knew that a word like that would raise the wrong flags.
"Ah," he answered, his eyebrows peaking downward. The ship seemed so familiar … almost as if he'd seen something like it once.
"What plan will we be formulating?" she asked, not liking the confused look on his face. Only then did he look at her, but she had learned control, and her face betrayed nothing of her feelings. Her eyes were large and inquisitive and a slight smile curved her lips as she watched him.
He smirked to follow her and tilted his head slightly. "We're going to kill Barbossa, of course … only this time, he'll stay dead."
….
The parade of ships did go to Martinique and all three were set to go to Isla de Muerta as well, for two very different reasons. It hadn't taken Barbossa and Norrington long to realize that Jack was no longer aboard their ship, and to make sure that the Sparrows and company did not escape, they tailed as best they could.
The Pearl was never an easy ship to follow, but The Serpent's Bounty, as Scarlette had dubbed the new ship, was not as fast. She had insisted on captaining the ship from the beginning. The Lyandize knew why and would tell no one, though they didn't mind terribly that some of the Pearl's crew were there to take up some of the slack. Scarlette had earned the right, or been cursed into it … that ship was hers … at least for sixty-five more days. It had taken eight days to reach the two warring ships and five to sail to Martinique … time was falling faster than grains of sand in an hourglass.
Jack had been slightly uncomfortable, watching her take command of the smaller ship. He was not quite sure, but for some reason he could not discern or fathom, she seemed to be angry with him. He wracked his brain trying to see why she might not be happy with him right at that moment and could think of nothing. In fact, one such pondering session in his cabin brought him to this conclusion. "This is one of the few times where she honestly has nothing to be mad about, and yet she seems distant."
Bootstrap knocked on the door just then. Jack popped it open and eyed him warily.
"How may I be of service to you?" Jack quipped. Bootstrap gave him a sort of glower and pushed his way into the cabin without waiting for an invitation. He shut the door behind him and sat down at the dark wooded table with a heavy sigh. Jack looked rather perplexed and he sat beside his friend at the table.
"What ails you, man?"
"You know, Jack," Bootstrap answered. "You know he's out there."
"Barbossa?" Jack answered in a rather hopeful voice. Bootstrap just looked at him and Jack faltered.
"He's closing in, Jack. Don't think he's not … I can feel it. Why are you not worried?"
Jack sighed. "I made a deal with him some twenty or so years ago, Turner. The agreement was for thirteen. If he were to come and get me, it would have been by now. I think he's forgotten about us both, honestly."
"And how do you know he hasn't just had something better to do?" Bootstrap answered. "Jones—"
Jack waved a hand rather violently. "Do not speak of his name over water, mate. I don't much believe in bad luck, but I'd rather not tempt fate."
Bootstrap nodded. "Aye, but I still think we should run inland. He never lets go once he thinks he owns you, and the both of us, my friend, have old debts to the devil."
Jack narrowed his eyes, thinking that some debts were not so old.
"Has anyone ever escaped?" Jack whispered urgently. Bootstrap gave him a tragic look.
"We cannot escape this fate, Jack. Not on water. Land is where we must go. Land is where we must stay. Pirating days are over, unless you want to traffic the rivers … and it's just as well. You have a family, now."
Jack gave him a look and the first stirrings of anger began. "I know the risks involved, mate. I don't intend to endanger them."
"Where did Scarlette get that ship of hers?" Bootstrap asked, and the change of conversation topic was very abrupt. Jack opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He shut it and looked again at Bootstrap. The other man looked grave and seemed to darken without movement as if his soul were fading. Jack got out of his chair and strode to the window.
The green/blue sails of the ship billowed as the Bounty corrected slightly behind the Pearl. Jack could just see a dark haired figure at the stern. He took in the barnacle-clad ship and tried to remember years back to a very different ship.
He turned back to Bootstrap and his eyes were dark with dread. "She told me that the ship was part of the Langue de Serpent treasure."
"It may very well be as she said," Bootstrap nodded. "But there are not many powers that can raise a ship from the depths and repair it as that one has been. It has not rested above water, there is too much growth on its entirety. I do not know what happened on that island and nor do you, but that ship brings a dread I have not tasted since I met the ocean's devil."
Jack sat down once again and frowned. "Would he even make a deal with a woman?"
"I don't know," Bootstrap answered sullenly. "I would never presume to ask him … or her."
"She wouldn't have done it … would she?" Jack asked more to himself than to Bootstrap.
"If she thought she could rescue you, she would," he answered anyway, eyeing his distraught captain with worry.
"Damn," Jack pounded the table. "That's the one thing that we don't agree on … I'll do almost anything to save myself, and she'll do just the same to save other people."
"And you haven't told her about your own little encounter with him, so you can't ask her if she's managed to run into any … interesting characters lately."
Jack looked at the table and frowned. "I guess I'll have to tell her to find out."
Bootstrap chuckled. "I can see it now. If she doesn't know, you'll be running about the decks ahead of a sword fueled by her hand, no doubt." He raised his voice in a strangely accurate imitation of Scarlette. "Why the hell would you sell yourself for a ship! What am I supposed to do now?"
Jack smirked, but it was a shadow of his usual smile. "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves, here. We don't even know if he's out after us. Why bother getting her all worked up for no reason?"
"Because you want to know if she's bargained with him as well," Bootstrap answered.
"Damn you for reminding me," Jack growled. He stood. "I'm off to relieve Gibbs. I'm not going to ask her about it. There's no reason she would keep it from me."
"There is if she's planning on something of which we're not aware," Bootstrap added, always the darker side of any conversation.
Jack opened the cabin door and Bootstrap followed him out. "What could she be planning that she wouldn't include us in?"
….
Scarlette wasn't planning anything. She gripped the helm of her ship and watched the Pearl sadly. She knew now that perhaps she should have thought about everything before she simply agreed to Jones' bargain. Sharon and Joaquin would be left alone unless there was something else that could be done. Could a mortal person kill Davy Jones? And what about the Dutchman's crew. They were all tough and hand to hand combat with one would probably hurt a lot.
The Flying Dutchman itself did not seem like it would be an easy ship to take out. It could function underwater. What would happen if one managed to blow a hole in the side of it big enough to let in water? Would it sink? And then what? Scarlette groaned in frustration.
She looked back as one of the Lyandize walked past. The Necromancer was still following and she could almost feel Barbossa's hungry eyes on her skin. The sword on her back under her coat hummed with unused energy.
Aoi-rozuka had been a claymore when Jones had stabbed it into the deck of the Bounty. It had remained that way when Scarlette first strapped it to her back and put the coat on over it. Something strange had happened to it, however. At some point, during the first week of her voyage to save Jack, she'd unsheathed the weapon to find it had changed into a long but light bladed saber, still cerulean and shining with unused power. The claymore she would have had to two-hand but this weapon was wonderfully balanced for her.
She had not drawn the weapon since. Something about it made her uncomfortable, as if the power that lived in the blade wanted a certain destruction that she was not alone capable of bringing about.
She knew though that if it came down to it, she would draw the sword against Barbossa. If anything could kill him, that sword could. Maybe it just took a magic blade imbued with powers no one understood.
The sun was fast leaving the scene and setting below the horizon. Time was running shorter and Scarlette held the stern, hoping there would be an alternative fate for those who had wrought not so pleasant ones.
… Sixty-four days ….
….
It did not take long for The Dauntless to reach Port Royal. They seemed rather harried and had wasted no time in leisurely cruising. Gillette and Groves busied themselves, glad the Company was no longer present in port. Post-carnage reports had been given and submitted. Letters were sent off in various directions to inform loved ones and … not-so-loved ones.
One particularly dangerous letter made its way to England and into the hands of another begrudged enemy of Captain Jack Sparrow. Arrangements were made and soon, none other than Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company was on his way to Port Royal on behalf of King George III to not only install a new policing system in the seaside colony, but to insure that certain 'murderers' came to justice.
When Gillette heard this news, he sighed and shook his head. They had just managed to get rid of Mercer, who had been just a scout of sorts. Now, things were getting worse. Port Royal was going to become dangerous for lots of people.
On day sixty-three of the Davy Jones countdown, several people looked off into horizons of varying color and toasted to various things. On The Black Pearl, Gibbs toasted to the victory to come. On the Bounty, Scarlette toasted to not worrying about things so much. On The Necromancer, Barbossa chewed on a green apple and shouted for everyone to rejoice for he will have killed the Sparrows for sure this time. And on The Endeavour,Beckett … well, he was holding a rather thick stack of arrest warrants and his face held a quaint little smile as he sipped his brandy and thought about hangings.
Whatever gets your jollies off, man.
….
Well, that was spiffy. Charlotte's Web is over … Finally. And so is this chapter. Finished just after midnight, March 22, 2007. I don't know if I'm going to make the deadline, guys. I've got two months … yeek.