Mark The Earth With Ruin
Chapter 14
Soaking wet again. Emmy grimaced, plucking the fabric of her borrowed shirt away from her skin as she followed Rose over the rocky beachhead, trying to keep her head down. At least this wasn't England, where even in summer one was liable to catch a chill. On the other hand, the drying salt was making her itch something fierce. And her hair was one big, sticky, knotted mat. Thanks to the coral rocks they were clambering over, a goodly portion of the skin was gone from her palms. Her midsection was raw where she'd scraped herself over the cannon port getting off the Seraph. She was filthy, she was tired, she was cold, and she was sure she smelled horrid. And most of the time she was in absolute terror for her life, and for Ned's.
It occurred to Emmy that she'd never in her whole life felt quite so alive.
"Hssst!" Rose tugged Emmy down behind a boulder. "There they are."
Emmy squinted over the weathered black coral. The party from the Seraph had built a fire on the beach, and Emmy could see the captives clearly. She was relieved to see that Will seemed no more the worse for wear, though he was still shirtless and the marks of the blacksnake lash still stood livid against his skin. Her brother and Bill Turner seemed much the same, still impassive and blank.
Jack Sparrow, on the other hand, was not faring well. He was on his knees, leaning absurdly against Will's legs, like a rag doll Emmy had once had who wasn't padded right.
Annie tugged something from her reticule and glanced at it. Emmy's heart leaped in hope; Rose's fingers dug into Emmy's arm. But it was merely a timepiece.
"That should be long enough," Annie snapped, her voice carrying easily on the night breeze. Emmy watched as Nicodemus and Ned dragged Jack away from Will, who lunged for him. Bill grabbed his son and held him, struggling.
Jack was having trouble standing without assistance, draping himself across Ned's shoulders. He gave Annie an insouciant grin. "Can't keep your hands off me, can you, darlin'? I've that effect on plenty of wenches."
She smiled back, a black and predatory grin. "I admit, Jack, there is something about you. Even when you were a stripling I felt it, and now… yes, I think I may take you to my bed before I devour your soul." She laughed, softly. "No, not before. While."
Jack's cocky demeanor couldn't hide the shiver that shook him. Annie took his face between her hands, caressing his jaw with her fingers, and then she bent her mouth to his and kissed him deeply.
Will tensed; Emmy could see it even at this distance, every muscle bunched and straining. She bit her lip, only barely aware of a riveted Rose at her side. Surely this was the end of Jack Sparrow.
The kiss ended. Jack staggered back a step, spitting into the sand and then falling over, retching slightly. Annie watched him carefully for long minutes. Emmy held her breath, waiting for the first signs of possession.
They didn't come.
Jack's raspy breathing slowed to normal, Ned dragged him to his feet again. Annie leaned in, studying his face, her own growing thunderous. "Damn that obeah! I should have killed her outright!"
A low chuckle floated from behind Emmy and Rose, causing every tiny hair on Emmy's neck to stand straight up. It couldn't be… They turned slowly.
Maman stood there, her white hair streaming, her white robes moving faintly in the Caribbean breeze. For a moment Emmy swore she could hear the echo of drums.
The old woman held out her hands to them. "Come. 'Tis nearly time."
~*~
Will stifled his sigh of relief once it became apparent that Jack wouldn't succumb to Annie's wiles just yet, despite whatever was in the poisonous brew she'd fed him. Instead he stood stoic as Jack doggedly made his way across the short distance that separated them and climbed the young blacksmith, much as a cat would a tree. Annie watched them with narrowed eyes; his face turned away from her, Jack grinned at Will and winked, then flopped back over to face her, his eyelids at half mast.
Annie folded her arms. "Where is it, Jack?"
He waved his hands about, the shackles clanking. "Where's what?"
"The Hand, Jack. Where is it?"
"I told you, it's here." Jack hiccuped. "Somewhere about."
Annie frowned mightily. "I've no time for this. Husband?" Immediately Ned was at Will's side, a cocked pistol at the younger man's temple. Will flinched; he couldn't help it. "Now," Annie purred, "you will tell me exactly where that damned Maman hid the Hand of Power or you can watch your friends die one by one. Choose."
Jack staggered forward. "You were here, Annie love, remember?"
She stalked toward him and curled her fist into his collar, hissing into his face. "Aye, I was here." Annie all but spat at the pirate. "Do you know how many times I have died in the last twenty years, Sparrow? The first time was here, thanks to Maman and your friend Teach. They buried me here, under the sand and the rocks, and the vermin came and dined on my flesh. And then my salvation came in the unlikely guise of a drunken sailor who had the misfortune to fall asleep on my grave. I took his soul to sustain me, and his boat to rescue me. I died again, this time of starvation, on the open sea, until a ship came alongside and took my body aboard. Again I was restored a little, for a while, and again I died. And again." Annie released him, giving him a little shove. Jack staggered back. "And again," she went on, "and again, until I found souls enough to restore this body, to sustain this façade of living." Will shivered. Annie ignored him, her black eyes glittering. "But it has taken a toll on me past your limited comprehension. The Hand of Power will restore me, will give me power beyond imagining."
"I dunno," Jack interrupted cockily. "I can imagine quite a bit."
Annie grinned, for all her beauty a death's head grimace if ever there was one, and Will felt his skin crawl. "Can you, Jack Sparrow? Can you imagine the Beast himself, and at my command?" The tiny hairs on the back of Will's neck stood up. "Time is fleeting, Jack. The Hand or your friend's life."
Jack sighed and waved a defeated hand inland. "Come on then." He weaved away, trolling his way inland crabwise.
~*~
Emmy and Rose had secreted themselves in the bare nick of time, for here came bobbing shadows and the sounds of voices and footsteps scraping over the black coral rock from which this chamber had been hewn, God only knew when. As far as Emmy could tell they were nearly at the heart of this volcanic island, and the atmosphere was nearly stifling, warm and humid. Sweat prickled the backs of her knees and across her upper lip, beading at her hairline and sliding down her neck.
Maman had led them into this place through some convoluted series of caves, and had then melted away like the snows of yesteryear without giving the young Englishwoman a chance to ask how the crone had come to be there, or how she knew the way to this Hand Annie spoke of, or anything of use. Emmy had never felt so ill-prepared in her life, and nothing she'd yet faced had been as vital as this. Her brother's life, that was what she fought for. No, not just his life. His very soul. Emmy shivered despite the warmth of the cavern, twisting her fingers together to stop their shaking.
She tilted her head back to look overhead; the ceiling of this chamber, if it had one, was lost in the darkness, unlit by the phosphorescence that gently glowed on the lower walls.
Annie came in then, followed by a defiant Will, a limp Jack, the blanks that had been Bill and Ned, and Nicodemus. Emmy shrank back as Annie reached her torch over her head. By God, they were so very close that if Emmy stretched her fingers across the outcropping that hid herself and Rose, she could grasp the witch by the hand.
There was a sort of trough cut out of the wall, and it was to this that Annie touched her torch. A yellow flame leapt to life, spreading and traveling in a fiery band around the entirety of the chamber, lighting it clearly.
Now Emmy could see the island in the center of the chamber. It was surrounded by water, over which soft steam rolled gently. A plank and rope bridge spanned the distance from where they sat to the island, a low, flat, broad hump of rock, in the center of which sat a low stone table. And on that table...
It sat on its truncated wrist, gleaming a dull bronze in the flickering light. The thumb, first and second fingers were extended, the third and fourth were tucked close to the palm, exactly like a benediction. Each finger was twisted, misshapen, malignant, tipped with some sort of symbol that was beyond Emmy's experience. Annie Palmer's entire body was canted toward it, her own hands outstretched to her prize.
At an order from the witch Will's hands were freed. "Now, Mr. Turner," she said. "Touch my skin and Nicodemus will slit your father's throat. Retrieve the Hand for me, and I will restore him to you. Simple, is it not?"
"Get it yourself." Will stared her down. "You'll kill us anyway."
Annie smiled. "I give you my word, I shall not."
"You can't touch it, can you? Any more than you can touch me."
Annie snorted. "Don't be a fool. 'Twould do me no good if I could not touch it. I merely need you to get it for me."
"Protected from the likes of you, then. I see." Will looked the witch up and down. "How do I know you can do what you say?"
For answer Annie rummaged in her reticule, pulling forth a pair of small, iridescent bottles. Emmy's scalp prickled. Surely, surely…
Annie placed them on another outcropping nearby. "You may free him yourself, then. The Hand, Mr. Turner."
Emmy stifled a frustrated huff. So bleeding near and so sodding far. She wanted to throw a tantrum. Throw something, anyway. She looked around at Rose.
Who was on her stomach, inching toward the bottles.
Emmy wasn't given to dithering, as a rule, but now she bit her lip, undecided as to what to do. Should she create a diversion? Lay low? Right now fainting and staying unconscious until it was all over was the most appealing option. She watched the soles of Rose's bare feet disappear around the outcropping.
Will was at the table, now, Annie hard on his heels. Nicodemus was by the near end of the bridge, his eyes on his mistress. Emmy chewed her lip until she tasted blood. Something was coming, coming for them all. She could feel it in the air.
"Give it to me!" Annie took the Hand from Will triumphantly, pushing her fist inside, shrieking words in a language Emmy had never heard, in a language no human was meant to hear. Emmy's heart was pounding, she could hear every breath as it entered and left her burning lungs. The water around the island roiled.
Jack Sparrow staggered, falling against Nicodemus, who shoved the captive away, sending him hard into the rough coral wall. Emmy could see the pirate's face was bleeding as he slid to the ground.
Rose crept from behind the rocks, placing a foot squarely in Nicodemus' arse and giving him a hard shove. "Oi!"
Emmy panicked, standing up suddenly. What was Rose doing? The Seraph's captain would surely kill her! Rose glanced at Emmy and raised her arm.
A gleaming bit of iridescence came arcing through the air at her. Emmy leapt for it, plucking the bottle out of midair. She landed, spun, and dashed it with all her might at the wall, shattering the shards far and wide.
Emmy whirled back toward her friend. Nicodemus' face was evil incarnate, his yellow eyes nearly aglow with hatred as he stalked Rose. She stumbled back a step or two, turned to face him, and threw the bottle she held defiantly to the ground.
Nicodemus raised his cutlass and brought it down in a malevolent slash – and then steel clanged on echoing steel as a second sword stopped the deathblow in mid strike.
"Not bloody likely," growled Bootstrap Bill through clenched teeth, and he kicked Nicodemus back with a vicious boot to the black man's ribs. "Get 'ee back, Rose love," he said, tugging a dagger from his boot. "I got a score to settle."
The clank of chains caught Emmy's attention, and there was Jack Sparrow, on his feet, eyes a-sparkle and braids a-flying, dropping his manacles to the cavern floor. "Will!" he shouted. "Get out of there!"
The steaming sea surrounding the island erupted in a waterspout, and then, horrifically, a huge, scaled claw erupted from below and landed with a deep and reverberating boom on the edge of the small island.
"I shall ride the Beast and bring the end of days!" shrieked Annie Palmer, throwing her arms wide. "Come! Take the souls I have brought for us to share!" There was an unearthly, deafening growl in answer, and the witch began to laugh.
Emmy screamed; Jack grabbed Rose and ran with her to take what cover there was behind the larger outcropping. Ned took three giant steps and threw his sword with all his might at Annie's heart. It speared her neatly, skewering her through the breastbone. She looked down at it, and threw her head back, laughing in earnest.
"Fool!" She pulled the sword free, brandishing it. "It's already begun. You cannot stop it now!"
White flashed from across the cavern; Will leapt for the Hand, wrenching it from Annie's grasp and throwing it in that direction. Time slowed as it sailed, end over end, and then…
Maman caught it and held it aloft.
"NOOOOO!" Annie shrieked in fury. "Damn you all!" She moved suddenly, decisively.
And then Will Turner gasped and gurgled, staring down in amazement at the sword point protruding from his chest. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth as he swayed and went to his knees, and then fell, face forward, to the black coral.
"ANNIE PALMER!" The female voice cracked like thunder as a shadow formed over Maman's head. No, not a shadow, a light, a shade of Maman herself, huge and hovering. Maman held out the Hand, and the shade reached into Annie's chest and pulled free a struggling wisp of light.
And then lights were flying free from Annie, who appeared suspended, twitching, like a marionette with tangled strings; hundreds of them, it seemed, spiraling up and around and away.
A head loomed behind the island, huge, scaled, horned. Emmy screamed again. The creature – the Beast – shook its head like a dog, rearing back with a howl. Once again Maman held out the Hand, and the creature flinched, chastised. It looked around, pawing at the rock, leaving huge ditches where its claws scored the stone.
Annie Palmer looked at the creature, mouthing something Emmy couldn't hear. The Beast reached for the witch who had summoned it, opened its fearsome maw, and – Emmy covered her eyes and screamed a third time, but not loud enough to cover the sound of crunching bone and gristle.
A maelstrom grew inside the cavern, whirling, whipping Emmy's hair into her eyes and mouth, sending them all stumbling back against the cavern walls. The Beast roared in feral protest as Maman's thunderous intonations resonated inside their very bones, making Emmy's teeth chatter.
And then all was still.
Emmy opened her eyes. The Beast was gone; of Annie Palmer there was no sign. Maman stood alone, the Hand of Power lying at her feet. Rose ran to Bill, who kicked Nicodemus' prone and bloodied form away, his eyes only for his son across the way. Jack and Ned scrambled across the bridge, rolling the still body over, feeling frantically at neck and chest. There was a pause, and then they stared at one another, identical grief in gray eyes and brown.
"Oh, God, no," said Jack Sparrow, disbelief in his tone.