Yes, last chapter was a bit confusing. However, this one shall be hopefully a bit less so, even is I'm introducing plenty of new characters. Again, you didn't need to have necessarily read all of these stories because I provide pretty decent introductions to each. Enjoy!
I have a few Author's Notes littered through this, just to give the readers that have read all or most of these stories a bit of a heads up for where these characters were taken form in relation to their story (For example, Artemis is taken right after the 1st book).
Don't ask until Ch. 4 how Artemis got the e-mail. It's explained there.
Don't worry, all our favorite Valinorians shall live. The Vingilotë features prominently next chapter, for example.
People who are reading my stories: You are probably all wondering why I'm not using this time I stole (I'm grounded—remember?) for stories I haven't updated in a while, like Of Magic and Mayhem, or Enter the Shadow. Well, I'm at my Uncle Peter's house for Easter, which means all my files are at MY house several hundred miles way. Most of them are half-finished, and since I'd rather not retype all of that I'm doing something that I had not started typing yet. That means this. Savvy?
Oh, and I'm going to get to all our favorite villains and their minions in 5 chapters or so. I have to get all these guys all together and somewhat in a consensus over what to do before I can turn to Sauron, Morgoth, Voldemort, Wormtongue, etc. I'm not even that far in writing it with Mithostwen in out notebook right now, so you might want to be patient. However, we do (At least, I do. I'm not to sure about Mithostwen.) have how the villains will act in reaction to the Council's scheme (Yes, all of these characters shall eventually agree on something.).
No synopsizes, I've decided, until a character makes second appearance. That'll be next chapter unless we drastically change it.
Chapter Two: Introductions
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A/N: Time; right after the first Artemis Fowl book, perhaps 5 weeks or so. The time shall be a little more obvious when he meets with Holly & Co in two chapters or so (Or maybe next; we haven't decided).
Artemis Fowl was not pleased.
Actually, it depends on which Artemis you were talking about; the First or the Second. The First was currently locked in a Russian Mafiya holding cell. The Second was gazing at the mysterious e-mail message on his lap-top. In that case, the unhappiness was simply in rather unequal amounts (Two guesses as to whom was more upset).
You see, Artemis Fowl (the Second) was not one to be bamboozled by anything whatsoever. He did, after all, swindle obscenely large mounts of money from everyone and everything that got in his way. Not only ad he broken the Mayan Code all by his lone self, but he had also successfully forged dozens of Impressionist paintings, played the violin at Carnegie Hall for an audience of well over a million (And receiving well over a million) and a good deal else that would require you to read his entire thirty gigabyte file at Interpol.
But, unfortunately, I am not here to give you a headache in explaining the sheer genius of Mr. Fowl. I am here to provide a rather important point; Artemis Fowl, for the first time in his spectacularly criminal life, was thoroughly confused.
The expression of intense concentration furrowing his pale brow became one of utter disgust. Why on Earth was this so-called 'White Council' summoning him? He was an evil genius, not a private eye for hire.
He checked the return address blinking annoyingly on the screen: theladygaladriel@hotmail.com.
For a moment, he just considered the obscene message with cool blue eyes. Then, with a slight smile curving his thin lips, he typed up a response.
Dear Madame Agée,(1)
I have absolutely no regrets to announce that I do not wish to accompany you on this rather imbecilic mission. I have no interest whatsoever in joining a group of complete fools on an outlandish quest to save these so-called 'Realms'. Most of all, this mission has nothing in it for me except the vague idea that some people other then myself may actually get hurt. Granted, causing various forms of suffering can be enjoyable, but it is unseemly for one that expects to dominate the known world one day. I have a reputation to keep.
Artemis paused, and then added;
With no respect at all,
Artemis Fowl the Second
He smiled his vampiric smile and pressed 'send' with no small amount of satisfaction. This 'White Council', if not fraudulent as he expected, would pay him a great deal for his services. Namely, a whole lot of gold.
"Aurum est Protestes." He whispered to himself, smoothing back his raven-black hair. "Gold is Power."
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A/N: Time; mid-Subtle Knife, right after Will received the Knife and are currently sleeping after their ordeal in the city. Will, anyways. For those who have not yet read the His Dark Materials sequence, this is a different Will from tPotC.
In another Realm, not so different from Artemis Fowl's, Lyra Silvertongue watched her alethiometer warily,
The alethiometer, often called the 'Golden Compass', was a curious device. Around its golden rim were forty images in place of the cardinal points, completely random to those that did not understand the Compass.
Lyra silently watched the spinning needle, mentally filing away the images the needle stopped at. Jus as quickly as the pictures registered in her mind, her subconscious translated their meaning. She was the ony one who could read the alethiometer without the aid of the translation guide, and she took the fact that she had the one of only two of these artifacts to the fullest advantage.
A girl and a ship…I have to go somewhere on the sea…no, wait…a diamond…a boat with a diamond?...twenty rotations of the needle…I'm traveling in a group of twenty people…
More images, too fast for her eyes to identify, flashed across the alethiometer barely changed by her subconscious.
A man with a silver crown, a King—a woman with hair like gold and a sword out of its sheath—a boy with lightning on his forehead—a red-head following him—
The pace of the images quickened to a fever-pitch, and they raged like a tsunami within her in the speed of their passing.
A girl with brown hair and books—a boy with cold blue eyes, intelligent eyes—someone short, loyal, with furry feet—a man with pointy ears and a long bow—another man, short, grouchy, but with an ax—a woman—no, a girl still—forced to grow up too quickly with a panpipe and a blue book—a pirate with a compass that doesn't point north—a man with an anvil and a sword, many swords—a smaller man, a dwarf, a pickpocket—four people, two girls and two boys, united by a circle of thread with four bumps—another pointy-eared woman, short, but with a temper to match her hair—another woman, black-haired with nine bells, they are ringing….
The alethiometer flew out of her hands, the needle still spinning madly, but came to a crash-landing on the carpet on the far side. Lyra did not notice the certain lack of sound form the crash, being too absorbed with the pounding headache thudding through her skull.
The alethiometer was, granted, a useful device, but it gave her the most awful headaches. She had had it for so long, almost to the point where it had become an essential part of life. Whenever she was in need of advice, she 'asked' the alethiometer—although sometimes it told her things on its own. According to the professors at home, it worked through reading the dark particles through the air. None of this had ever made much sense to Lyra, although according to the alethiometer some things were about to be explained.
When the pounding in her head had subsided—that was, after all, the most the alethiometer had ever offered her in one shot—she brushed back her straggly brown hair. A quick check of her senses revealed nothing out of the ordinary, other then a few tender lumps from the fight earlier. She suppressed a shudder; she was now as much a murderer as Will now.
"No." she whispered furiously to herself, pulling her thin and well-bruised knees closer to her body on the plush bed. The images had told her all too clearly that she was to go on a dangerous journey… without Will. Pantailamon was not in the strange message either, and she could not bear to be parted from her.
Unwillingly, her glance strayed towards Will and her daemon—the reflection of her spirit—sleeping peacefully in the bunk opposite to hers. She had only known Will for a few hours, but already she felt that they were connected somehow, and Pantailamon…she could not bear to separate from. They were one, and what happened to one of them happened to the other. If they strayed too far from each other, they would weaken and die.
Pantailamon, in the form of a lithe jaguar, yawned and blinked large golden eyes at Lyra.
Lyra smiled slightly, and she beckoned to her daemon. She instinctually picked up the alethiometer gently in its mouth as she crossed the carpeted expanse, and was son besides her master.
The golden compass fell onto the pale bed, gold and silver light reflecting off it in lazy beauty from the moonlight that came from the window. It was a beautiful thing, but a deadly thing as well; had she never have come across it, many would not have died, and a whole war might have been averted…
Lyra picked it up from the small indent in the bed with trembling hands, drawn to it again by the strange magic it seemed to have. The needle turned around the center, bouncing silver moonbeams across the room's light blue walls, and then swung straight a Will, towards the Subtle Knife at his waist.
The Subtle Knife was no mere dagger—it could cut anything, everything, even the fabric of space. To save you a large headache that would rival Lyra's, it could cut doorways between the Realms. Will had sacrificed two fingers to bear the Subtle Knife, and he would never let it go willingly.
Her eyes closed as she tried desperately to think. There was another war she was called to, the one between Lord Asrial—her father—and between the Church. If she did what the alethiometer was demanding of her, not only would she have to loose her fingers, but she would be forced to abandon Will and her cause behind.
"I'm only going to borrow it." She whispered to the Knife, trying to convince herself more then anything that he would not be forced to loose her fingers for the sake of bearing the artifact. Before she could change her mind and simply drag Will along, she crossed the room and slipped the Knife from Will's belt. It was heavy and cool in her hand, like silk spun from tempered steel.
Fascinated by the Knife, she let the light from the stars play across the silver blade, seeing more then just cold steel that killed. There was an iridescence to it, and as she looked closer, she could see worlds within waving green grass, a blue sky with dancing white birds, red blood and laughing people. It showed what it could unlock, and Lyra felt confidence bloom within her. It has not taken her fingers; it must have realized that she was only truly borrowing it.
"I'm going to return you." She whispered to the Subtle Knife in her hand, just in case. The blade only caught more light in her hands, shining gently with images of other worlds.
Lyra turned to Pantailamon, still watching the upraised blade out of the corner of her eye. "Ready?" she murmured fearfully. The Subtle Knife was a cold thing, not at all like the golden friendliness of her alethiometer.
Pantailamon nodded, shifting to a small wildcat before her eyes. Lyra slid from Will's bed, bringing the Knife up to eye level. Unbidden, Will's words came to her, spoken quietly before he feel into his deep slumber. You have to sort-of feel for the fabric, and you have t imagine the Knife cutting through something substantial other then air. It's an odd feeling, yes, but a pleasant one.
She closed her eyes, and slashed the Knife down through the air. A tremor passed through her arm, and she curved the knife over and up, feeling the 'fabric' slice cleanly as the blade passed through it.
Nothing anywhere near Armageddon happened, and Lyra tentatively opened her eyes. Where she had cut there was a window, opening into an endless expanse of blue.
"It's so beautiful." Lyra whispered, looking at the sparkling waters in amazement. The larger bodies of water she had always seen had been restricted by buildings, polluted, uglified. But this….
"Pretty." Pantailamon said, quite aptly. It was like a giant pool of quicksilver, strewn across with iridescent diamonds. Shimmers of azure and turquoise blinded her gray eyes, making her squint against the reflected light.
The pair stood there for several long moments, watching the large window with apprehension and awe. It started around the height of Lyra's ankles and stretched to near the top of her unruly head. The light from the sea illuminated the small room, making Will twitch in his bed and shocking Lyra out of her reverie. She slid the alethiometer into her small backpack, and gripped the Knife tightly. With unspoken agreement Pantailamon morphed into a dolphin as she leapt through, a brief shadow in the window until she landed with a small splash in the waters below.
Lyra took a deep breath. She had only wielded the knife once now, and she had to seal the window after her to make sure will did not follow. In one smooth motion honed from years of street-fighting, she jumped out through to the sea, twisting around to press the knife to the window-edge as she went.
Will awoke with a start as he heard the distant splashed, but he dismissed them as the children playing in the waters of this sea. The window had closed, and Lyra had left no trace of her departure except for her missing lump in the bed—replaced by a cunning pillow. Will sighed to himself, and fell back into a troubled sleep, clutching the stumps of his missing fingers.
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A/N: Not only is this section largely Mithostwen's with only small editations by me, but it takes place a few weeks after tPotC ended. Savvy?
An entire world away, far closer to ours then Lyra's, someone else woke up at that very same moment. Like Will, his name was will. Like Artemis, he was named for his father. Like his father, Will was a pirate, thanks to a certain misadventure with Captain Jack Sparrow.
The fact that he was a pirate was also partly thanks to Elizabeth Swann, son to be Elizabeth Turner, as she had ironically told Barbossa after her voluntary kidnapping. It was a long story.
Will stood and stretched, his dark brown—not black, as many had assumed—falling annoyingly in front of his face. It was an incredibly simple way to start the day hat would change his life. Of course, he had no reason to believe that day was today.
The sun was rising in the east, highlighting the sky with rays of soft pink. Will wasn't in the mood to stare at the sky, however. He and Elizabeth were sailing to a nearby island to see if they would want to spend their honeymoon there. Neither of them was the least bit excited (He would have preferred to be making his now famous swords, or spending time with Elizabeth), but Elizabeth's father had insisted, and he was the governor. Since Will should technically be in jail—or worse—he wasn't about to make the rather forgiving governor upset. He and Commodore Norrington had even spared Jack. Will owed them a lot, so he had agreed to this pointless voyage.
He made his way down to the Port Royal docks, brown eyes bright with the upcoming journey (It was better then a fine cell that he himself had built, or being employed as a warning sign to passing pirates). The governor was actually letting them—rather, forcing them—to take the Dauntless. Personally, Will would rather hunt down Jack Sparrow for more answers—and adventures, although he'd never admit that to Elizabeth—and travel on the Black Pearl, beat up as it was, then sail the ship of an old guy who tried to marry his fiancée. Fortunately for all parties, Norrington was busy and not coming along.
He smiled, and his pace quickened along the worn flagstones. Perhaps this little escapade wouldn't be as bad as he thought.
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An hour later, the Dauntless set sail to leave Port Royal. Elizabeth was worried, although she, of course, had pretended to be thrilled when faced with her father. Their destination, a small island known for their rum, was dangerously close to the haunted Isle de Muerta. Yes, the curse on the former crew of the Black Pearl had been broken, but she never wanted to see that island again for rather obvious reasons.
She spotted Will up at the prow of the boat and started to make her way past the swarm of red-coated soldiers. Even as one soldier accidentally bumped her, sending her coquettish hat flying into the air, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye, near where the hat had made an ungraceful landing. It was a little girl, clinging to a dolphin and looking extremely sorry for herself.
"There's a girl in the water!" she cried to the soldiers. She almost added and my hat!, but such thoughts were brushed aside as she remembered something. That was almost exactly the same thing she had said eight years ago when she first saw Will. It was a spooky coincidence.
The men lowered the rope to the girl, and she gladly snatched it up with one wiry arm. They watched in astonishment as the dolphin morphed into a tiny bird and latched its small claws onto the girl's shirt.
The soldiers almost dropped the rope.
"It's a possessed dolphin." Someone whispered, entirely serious to Elizabeth's disgust. It was a girl and her…thing…, were not demons! All thoughts of her hat forgotten, Elizabeth fumed at the stupidity of men.
"Don't pull her aboard." The Captain ordered, although he hardly needed to to the thoroughly spooked men. "We don't know if she's dangerous.
The girl looked up at them from the gently lapping water, her brown eyes wide with fear.
"And why not?" Elizabeth demanded, placing her hands on her hips.
"She'll bring bad luck upon us, if not something worse. Didn't you see what just happened?"
Elizabeth looked down at the girl in the water. Her face was paling; hypothermia was coming. And yet the captain was right, in his own twisted way.
Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and the captain returned to his normal smug voice, although it had a slight quaver in it as he looked down at the girl. "I thought so." He said, and shot her a superior look that made everyone in the vicinity (Minus the freezing girl) want to punch him in the face. He turned around, only to find Will standing right there and glaring at him.
The poor captain melted.
"Haul her aboard." Will ordered softly, glancing at the girl. "She was in my dream. We're supposed to pick her up."
The soldiers exchanged glances that told Will that they thought he was crazy, but they brought the now shivering girl out of the ocean anyways. Everyone, including the openly trembling captain, watched the little bird fearfully, but it just chirruped indignantly and preened its wet feathers.
"What's your name?" Elizabeth asked kindly, drawing attention away from the demon-bird.
"Lyra Silvertongue." She said proudly, although everyone could see she was clearly afraid. She gave the soldiers a steely glare that nearly matched Will's, and then gazed at the named man. If he had been sent a dream about her, then maybe—
BOOM!
Cannon fire effectively interrupted her thoughts. The soldiers scrambled down to haul the Dauntless' guns as Lyra dived towards a cubby-hole under the stair to avoid the sudden hail of wood splinters and cannon-balls. The 'demon-bird' changed into a spotted dig and licked her hand reassuringly as Lyra tightened the grip on a very pretty knife. Will mentally noted that he would need to speak with her about who and what made it so beautiful, and then ran to grab his sword.
Elizabeth ran over to where Lyra had decided to hide, pulling her up by her arm. She eyed the long knife warily, but she ushered Lyra and the demon-dog towards the cabins where they'd be safer. She grabbed a sword—after the embarrassing incident at the Mansion a few weeks ago, she always kept a sword on hand—and ran back on deck. To her surprise, the men had stop preparing the cannons and were staring at something like her father's European statues ("The latest fashion in Paris, m'dear. Everyone is having statues commissioned.")
"It's the Black Pearl." Will explained as a cluster of redcoats dodged another shot from the pirate ship. "Jack doesn't know it's us."
"And if we don't fire back…?" Elizabeth trailed off, already knowing the answer to her question.
Will shook his head, slamming his sword into its sheath frustratingly. "They won't figure it out until it' too late." He whispered furiously.
"Well, what are we going to do?"
Will was silent, his forehead wrinkled with consentration as he tried to think up another brilliant plan.
After several long moments punctuated by cannon fire, Elizabeth asked, "Do we have a white flag?"
"We have a tablecloth."
Elizabeth might have laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it had not several wood splinters imbedded themselves within her honey-brown hair. "Let's sail over there, then. I'm sure you can capture his attention with your big mouth."
Will ignored the barb, turning to go off without another word into his quarters, where the governor had decided to place an informal dining table.
Elizabeth turned to see if she could attract Jack's attention without the help of the extremely ugly tablecloth, only to be nudged painfully in the ribs. She looked down—a long ways down—only to see Lyra,
"Why aren't you in your cabin?" Elizabeth asked impatiently, eager to get back to planning.
Lyra gave her look of equal impatience, although Elizabeth could see her clutching the demon-dog's fur tightly. "One of the people on the other ship… Don't fire. He needs to come with us—"
"Yes, we know them all, actually, but I assume you mean Jack." Elizabeth glanced at Lyra, shocked at her knowledge. "But how did you know this?"
Lyra replaced the large silver knife with a golden compass from her pack, wiping off some of the briny sea-water that had encrusted on it. S
She was about to speak when Will ran up on deck, holding the horrendous table-cloth as if it were poisonous. "Another compass that doesn't point north." He observed, passing the flowered cloth to Elizabeth.
Lyra smiled openly. She was now positive that she had come to the right place. The alethiometer had told her something about a pirate with a broken compass (Although she'd never admit that the alethiometer was broken). She would need to talk to this blacksmith later.
"The flag?" Elizabeth asked, holding up the white-and-pink cloth with obvious distaste. "I can't climb up the rigging, you know."
Will sighed wearily, and snatched the tablecloth out of her hands. With practiced ease, he climbed the rigging and replaced the now tattered British flag with the flowered white one of surrender—stains and all.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. She hadn't had a good scream since childhood, and she needed all the 'talent' she had had in those days.
"PAAAAAAR-LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!" she screamed, and all fell into silence. Lyra, knowing that look when someone was about to scream loudly, had clapped her ears with both her hands and Pantailamon's minx form. Others, being less prepared for anything like that, all had their ears ringing and various methods of fighting forgotten.
After the last echoes of the dramatic sound had faded away, there still was no sound. Either Jack had recognized her voice, even if it was amplified a thousand times more then what he was used to, or she was the only one who asked for parley every time she met a pirate.
"Aye1; he called out, appearing over the rim of the Dauntless as he clambered aboard via a gang-plank. His black hair, still as greasy and poorly-decorated as first time they saw him, bounced merrily as he walked on over as if he own ed the boat )which, by the rules of engagement, he did). He grinned as if he hadn't been trying to blow holes in their ship for the past fifteen minutes, and regarded Elizabeth and Will curiously.
"You change your mind?" he asked Elizabeth, squinting at her hand. "I don't see a ring." Will, suffice to say, did not look pleased at this remark, fidgeting awkwardly.
Elizabeth glared at him, moving closer to Will. "No, I didn't a-matter-of-fact."
Lyra interrupted before it could become yet another duel between the two men. "Mr. Sparrow and you two," he pointed at the three adults, who looked royally astonished that a little girl half their size was addressing them such. "You need to come with me to another Realm. A powerful Elf lady needs us, or something terrible will happen to everyone."
There was an awkward silence, in which the crew of the Dauntless decided it would be wise to leave the foursome on the deck and the three remaining adults started at her blankly.
"Can you repeat that luv?" Jack asked, staring down at her with utter bewilderment.
Lyra did, enunciating each syllable as if it were her last.
Will glanced over at Elizabeth, who glanced right back. "Sounds fine to me?" he suggested anxiously.
Elizabeth laughed, tossing back her hair so they could all see the adventure gleaming in her eyes. "I think I have another one in me!"
All three of them turned to look at Jack, who was shaking his head fervently.
'Why not?" persisted Will, who was looking genuinely excited.
Jack snorted in disbelief. "I happen to have a fine ship and a crew that loves me."
Elizabeth looked about ready to laugh at this, and Jack threw his arms in the air. "Fine. I'll argue with someone else. You there,' he grabbed Lyra's arm, and proceeded to drag her off towards the Pearl. "You seem to know what's going on. You explain this al to me, and then I can say no properly.'
"Jack…" Will said angrily, clutching his sword. "I'm warning you…"
Jack looked back from the gangplank, oblivious to the fact Lyra was better balanced on it then him. "You don't trust a pirate's honor?' he asked incredoulesly, looking hurt. "You don't trust me, after all we've been through?"
Will smiled despite himself. "Of course not Jack. Could you expect anything less?"
But his words met empty air; Jack and Lyra had already crossed over to the Black Pearl.
"But can we trust him?" Elizabeth asked Will in a low voice. "You know how Jack is, and she's so naïve."
Will smiled slightly, hugging Elizabeth. "If we couldn't trust him, we wouldn't be standing here today."
The same smile tugged at Elizabeth's lips as the memories washed over her. "True enough." she whispered, and they stood together on the deck, waiting for the outcome.
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A/N: Here to the end is all the Weeper. This segment is from Garth Nix's 'Abhorson' universe, and is Sabriel a bit after marrying Touchstone during some miscellaneous excursion into Death..
Sabriel cursed under her breath as she tripped, but managed to avoid falling headlong into the cold gray water. A few tendrils of jet-black hair were plastered onto her pale white ace, and the rest waved behind her as she sprinted through the still air.
Saying that she wasn't pleased now, as Artemis Fowl had been, would be a major understatement; the Dead were after her.
The Dead were literally dead—except they weren't. The undead you could almost say. They were the spirits of the living that refused to pass through the Nine Gates of Death. Choosing instead to haunt both the realm of Death and that of the living, they forever lusted for life, which they could never fully attain again. Many were once good souls, once good people that were twisted by this cruel thirst for life, brought to slaying innocents in blood they drank so sweetly.
It was these Sabriel combated, for she was the Abhorson, wielder of the nine bells. Most who glanced at her would at first see a necromancer—someone to be feared, for they controlled the Dead for their own ambitious purposes.
At the moment, Sabriel happened to be hunted by one of the nastier necromancers—once her prey. She was running madly through the still waters of the Third Gate, trying to outrun both the necromancer behind her and the incoming wave.
Each of the Gates had its own perils, some far worse then others. This was easily the one she hated the most, because of the great waves that swept through every few minutes to fling everything, even the living, through the next gate. They were stunned by the wave, unable to fight the river's current as it carried them to the Ninth Gate and beyond.
Breathlessly, she pulled a mark of speed from the charter, and let it flow through her exhausted limbs. Behind her was the growing roar as the wave approached, and out of the corner of one brown eye she could see the faint red glow of the necromancer. Grimacing again, she ran even faster through the shallow gray water.
There was a muffled howl of rage as the wave captured the necromancer, tossing him carelessly within the roiling waters and extinguishing the fires in his eyes. A few droplets of water from the wave landed on the nape of her neck, but it was unable to stir any more speed from her. She was running as fast as she could, and the Fourth Gate was still a long ways away.
With a final roaring heave, the wave sucked her into it gray water, numbing her limbs instantly.
Let yourself go. Sabriel told herself. It is your time. Yet, it somehow felt wrong. There was still much of her life ahead, there was Touchstone, his broken kingdom… and there was no Abhorson to take her place. Without the Abhorson, the Dead would overrun the Old Kingdom before some righteous necromancer would take the role.
She began to struggle in the numbing grip of the water, trying to break free of the spell it had put her under. The wave only tossed her more furiously, higher, lower, through the iciness…
Suddenly the wave stopped, sending her hurtling through the Fourth Gate of Death, and what lay beyond.
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A/N: tPotC again. We're going to be spending a lot of time here. Oh, and Lirael (Garth Nix books) is from after she becomes a Remembrancer. Obviously, Sabriel and Lirael come from different timeframes within the same Realm.
"I still don't believe it, luv." Jack said, rummaging around through his messy drawers to find some of the rum he had pulled recently. He honestly felt like he deserved it; the demon-bird had already tried to strangle him as a giant snake after he had called her 'luv' once, although now he kept 'luv' and her birdie on the far side of the room.
The girl scowled fiercely, crossing her arms across her chest. "You had better believe it." She replied crossly, giving one of the many hats littering the floor of the Captain's Quarter's a hard kick.
"Not the hat!" Jack cried, crossing the filthy room in two swift steps and rescuing the battered hats from Lyra's vengeful feet.
When he got up again from the floor, Lyra jabbed her finger into his chest, pushing him back a few steps. "You, whether you like it or not, are coming with us!"
Jack snorted in disbelief, backing away from Lyra and the now hissing Pantailamon. "You and what army?"
Lyra smirked noticeably, and Pantailamon hissed again as an overly large python. "I don't need an army, Jack."
"Captain Jack Sparrow!" he muttered angrily, but stopped when Pantailamon lunged out to coil around his arm. He leapt back, barely missing his sloppy table in the stumble, but drew his sword when he recovered his balance. "This is my ship, and you," he waved the sword towards Lyra's unmoving head, "are an intruder."
Lyra's eyes narrowed at the blade a foot and a half above her, but in one deft jump snagged the point by the lat of the blade and pulled down hard.
Jack dropped the sword, relinquishing his death-rip as the sword twanged angrily. Openly swearing—and thus adding new words to Lyra's vocabulary—he reached for the pistol at his waist.
But it wasn't there. He had thrown it away upon Barbossa's death because its task as fulfilled. He had forgotten to get a new one anyways, if more from his bad memory then a lack of need.
It would not have mattered, in any case; both were unduly started when two muffled thumps accompanied by two strings of very loud curses came from the deck of the Pearl. Both stopped their fight in unspoken agreement as they rushed out the broken door to the deck.
There, on the deck of the Black Pearl, were three sodden lumps. Two had long black hair, faces pale from what Jack hoped wasn't anger, and a set of nine things. For the taller and older of the two it was bells, clappered to remain quiet, and for the heaving girl it was a small set of panpipes. The third was a drenched and unhappy looking black mongrel, which got up and liked the smaller of the two women on the cheek. She groaned, and looked up at the now grinning dog with a mixture of annoyance and friendliness.
The taller of the women had already leapt to her feet, a long sword covered with strange marks already out of its sheath. A surcoat of deep blue with a dusting of silver keys rippled slightly in the sea-wind, but it did not distract her from the furious face before her.
"WHAT are you DOING on my SHIP?!" Jack roared, snatching a sword from one of his gaping men.
In two seconds the blade was already spinning into the stairwell by the heard-eyed woman, and her sword pointed sharply at his throat. Jack gulped, looking down at the imminent threat, but Lyra only backed up with a smug smile on her face. At this rate, she might be able to return the Subtle Knife before day's end.
Will and Elizabeth came running from the very same stairwell, alerted by the sound of the crashing sword. They had gone down to meet with all their old 'buddies' again, but the fates seemed set on not allowing Will to get into any more fights. Elizabeth, stepping in front of the de-sworded Will, clutched the hem of her too-long dress in one hand, and a somewhat bent saber in the other.
The smaller of the two black-haired women got up unsteadily with the help of the grinning dog, staring around her in astonishment, and finally at the swordswomen glaring at Jack.
"Sabriel." She breathed, and got down in one knee, inclining her head respectfully.
Sabriel looked down at the kneeling girl with surprise, and everyone who was paying any attention whatsoever to the unfolding drama noted that the two women's faces were extremely similar.
Jack lunged forward, dodging around the outstretched blade at his throat and snatched at the hilt of Sabriel's sword. Her dark brown eyes widened in shock, but then she sidestepped his headlong rush. Jack, unable to stop himself, kept on running until he flipped over the side of the Pearl.
The entire crew, including the new arrivals, exchanged amused glances and burst out in laughter. Splashes rang out in the calm Caribbean air, mixing with Jack's muffled oaths as he struggled to get back on board.
When Elizabeth took advantage of this to step forward and greet the women, Sabriel bared her teeth. "Where am I?" she spat, letting the long sword trace idle patterns in the air.
Elizabeth looked back over her shoulder towards Will ad Lyra, both of whom seemed more interested in the women then mocking Jack as the rest of the crew were. Will shrugged, and looked at Lyra, who seemed to be the only one who had a clue as to what was going on.
Lyra closed her eyes, looking down at the golden compass in her hands. After several long moments, she answered cryptically, "Not Death. Nor is it your life. It is a different reality then the one you are used to."
To everyone's surprise, both Sabriel and the other women seemed to accept this. Swords on all parties were sheathed, and they regarded each other in wary silence.
"Where's the kitchen?" asked a voice from nowhere. Everyone's heads turned, looking for the source of the noise, but the smaller if the women smiled at the dog.
"Don't be asking that already, Dog." She scolded the mongrel, but they could tell she didn't mean it.
'Dog' smiled openly, exposing large canine teeth. "Lirael, one could always use more food."
Several of the crewmembers turned as pale as Sabriel when they saw the Dog talking. However, nothing seemed too surprising after a haunted island, a spooky ship, zombie-pirates, Aztec gods placing curses on people, a morphing dolphin, and women that fell from the sky. So unlike the crew of the Dauntless…
Jack emerged dripping wet from the Pearl's side, his dark curly dreadlock plastered to his face in a most undignified manner. The remaining laughter from his crew choked off when they saw the pure rage on Jack's face. When the Captain was angry, he was either
A) Drunk, or
B) On vendetta.
In this case, he was a combination of the two; very dangerous indeed. His entire crew backed away from Jack's warpath as he made his way over towards Sabriel.
Jack stopped a hands-width from Sabriel's calm face, his face dark with unconcealed fury. Both stood silent for a few moments, and then Jack characteristically exploded. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?" he roared, throwing his hands into the air. "THIS IS MY SHIP, MY SHIP!"
Lirael at her side laughed silently, but stopped herself and returned to her calm façade. "That is the Queen of the Old Kingdom and Abhorson, Sir Jack Sparrow. She does what she will."
Sabriel looked over at Lirael in confusion. "Queen? I have not been crowned yet. I have only been married to Touchstone for a few weeks now."
Lyra walked up to the dumbfounded adults, clutching the alethiometer to her chest. "I think—" she started, but the rest of her words were lost amongst the tumult of mixed curses and insults that Jack threw at Sabriel.
"Stop it!" cried Elizabeth, putting her hands on Lyra's shoulders. Lyra tried to tug away from Elizabeth's grip, but she held on tightly. She looked at the trapped Lyra kindly. "Go on."
Lyra finally freed herself from Elizabeth's grasp, and firmly pushed Sabriel and Jack apart. "I think the problem here—" she looked from Sabriel to Lirael, who looked at each other with open suspicion and curiosity. "—is that you come from different time frames in the same Realm."
Sabriel and Lirael eyed each other suspiciously, but seemed to swallow this explanation as well. Lyra continued. "The alethiometer tells me we have to hurry."
Jack cut after swallowing a few gulps of rum, taken from the First Mate's quarters. "I'm not going anywhere." He stated, reaching for the bottle he had liberated again.
"Yes you are!" Elizabeth said crossly, snatching the bottle of rum before Jack could swig it down.
Jack glared at Elizabeth, Lyra, Sabriel, and then Lirael (Who had done nothing to him whatsoever). "D***ed women." He muttered under his breath, and then brought up his hands instinctually to protect against an unwanted slap.
Vengeance came, but not in the usual form. Lyra clenched her fists, and drove them in hard at Jack's midsection. He, however, remained unaffected by the attack, instead looking down at Lyra with obvious annoyance.
'That's all you can do luv?" he asked, smiling slightly.
Lyra scowled. "No, I still have Pantailamon." The daemon hissed in her python form, making Jack recoil from her.
"I hate snakes." He muttered, and put some more distance in between him and the women.
Will joined Elizabeth, putting his arm around her waist (Much to Lyra's disgust.) "I don't know about you, but life in Port Royal is getting dull. Another adventure is just the thing I need." He looked over at Elizabeth, correcting himself automatically. "What we need."
Elizabeth nodded, much to Jack's disappointment. "As long as there aren't any curses involved."
Lyra grinned. "No promises."
Sabriel and Lirael glanced at one another, and then at the grinning Dog between them. The Dog spoke first. "Well, I'll go. Ad far as I'm concerned, it's better then sitting in Lirael's office al day reading spellbooks."
Lirael frowned at the Dog. "We have things to do back at the Library."
"So?" the Dog replied, wagging her tail energetically. "This is more interesting then a bunch of old books!"
Lirael opened her mouth to argue, but firmly shut it again when she saw the Dog's questioning look. However much she could deny it, the Dog was right on this one.
Lyra turned towards Sabriel, who was regarding Lirael thoughtfully now. "And you?"
Sabriel as silent for several long minutes, looking between Lirael and Lyra. "The Charter brought me here for a purpose." She said at long last. "And I shall see it to the end." She bowed before Lyra, laying the long sword at her feet.
Lyra blushed uncertainly, and looked over at Jack. "What about you?"
Jack turned and began swaggering back to his messy cabin. "I have better things to do then this."
"Like what?" Will demanded.
Jack snorted, and began to tick off the reasons on his fingers. "Drink rum, eat, sleep, count me gold, ah…" he trailed off, and looked at Lyra's triumphant face. "D***." He muttered.
Lyra flounced over to a clear spot on the deck, sliding the Subtle Knife along old seams. It opened quicker this time, and soon a fair city of gleaming white house and gray ship slung before them, shining against the backdrop of an even more splendid sea.
Sabriel walked through without hesitation once she retrieved her sword, followed closely by Lirael and the Dog. Will and Elizabeth went after hand-in-hand, leaving only Jack, his frightened and thoroughly confused crew, and Lyra.
Jack sighed, and looked at the Black Pearl fondly. "Do I have to leave her?" he asked the girl, rubbing his hands down a carved ebony rail.
Lyra's face puckered as she though about it. "I don't know," she said after a while. "You can't bring the crew, but in the alethiometer you were shown with your boat."
Jack looked round at his crew. "I won't miss them." He said, eliciting gasps of astonishment from the pirates.
The girl raised a fine eyebrow speculatively. "Can you do that then?" she asked sealing off the window.
Jack grinned, and then in on swift motion spun the steering wheel, the very same trick he had pulled on Will only two and some weeks ago. The boom of the mast fell outwards, slamming into the crew and weeping them into the sparkling cerulean water.
Lyra smiled. "I like your methods."
Jack made a mock bow. "I try, luv. And now can you get the Pearl out of here before I could mutinied twice?"
She made no reply, but instead moved to the front of the boat until she leaned in front of the figurehead. Bringing the Subtle Knife high into the air, she cut as large a hole she could in front of the figurehead. Quickly then, she backed up from her new window.
An extraordinary thing happened. The hole she made, only the size of a small blackboard, stretched and expanded to fit the rest of the ship as it glided through the waters, crossing into a sea of a deeper but no less beautiful blue.
Lyra ran to the far end of the boar to try and seal the hole, but miraculously it had shrunk as the ship tapered out and sealed itself, leaving nothing behind as the Pearl sailed towards the port and the impatiently waiting people in the water below.
She breathed in the air, feeling the sheer cleanliness of it refresh her as if coming from a long sleep. Surely this was the home of everyone, here in Valinor?
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(1) Means, in French, 'old madame'. Obviously he's insulting the Lady Galadriel.
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That chapter was very confusing I realize, but hopefully entertaining. I just spent 5 hours typing that, so I hope you're happy.
Anyways, that's how long the chapters are going to b from here on out. It's not going to be the same for all of mine or Mithostwen's fics, just this one.
Yes, yes, I know that the whole deal with Lyra not bringing Will and taking the Knife, with canon characters being interrupted and all in mid-adventure is very odd. Believe it or not, I have figured out a very logical ad surprisingly simple reason for it which shall be explained once I finally get to the White Council chapter in about a million years. Galadriel is practically all-knowing in this, and has answers for everyone. Almost everyone, that is… muhahaha.
Next chapter shall be more introductions to many more Realms, visiting a few old ones, and shall be up in two weeks or so.
Namárië,
*`~Nallasariel the Weeper
& Mithostwen
P.S. If you want to check out some of Mithostwen's stuff (Although I don't know if she's posted any of her awesome stories yet), she's on my favorites list. Say hi for me!
P.P.S. This is a strange keyboard for me, so sorry for the abundant typos and such. I'll fx it when I can type freely once more.