Sunlight's warmth crept o'er Samson's face and twitched him awake. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. They narrowed upon opening to find nearby a waking Jack Turner, fish upon a stick still clutched in the boy's hand, amidst several darker lads also at that moment rising from their slumber. Bootstrap's grandson's eyes narrowed as well as the golden orb shining high above flashed in them. Samson looked up at the sky and again at the boy and then followed his gaze across the sand to where Mrs. Turner was stretching awake. Lithe as a cat she sat up and blinked awake. Samson followed her gaze toward the water's edge where waking was the group of little girls. With a wide yawn, Little Lucy stood on her short legs and bounded to her brother, throwing her arms around his neck and bowling him over into the sand. Laughing, she left him griping there and ran to her mother who grabbed her up and held her tight as her narrow gaze flicked the shore.
Samson's followed.
Those lying in the sand and upon rocks and docks were all waking as well. Intuit men and women rose quickly on their feet and glanced about at each other, eyes locking in silent conversation. Two priests woke back to back. They rose to their feet and whirled in their silk robes. Glare at each other they did. Fast their narrow gaze switched toward a big black rock where sat perched in sleep a serene-faced priestess.
Below her Isaac Faust was awake. Elbows propping him in the sand, he gazed with wary, wide eyes back at all who seemed focused upon him. The sandy gent frowned. His eyes rolled up to find Neris. In that moment the Witter woman woke. All eyes fell upon her as she sat straight up in the sand and let loose a sharp shriek of a scream.
Samson winced with everyone else.
Neris woke with a start. Off the rock she tumbled head over feet. In Isaac's lap she landed with a thump but shot immediately to her feet, well aware that all were advancing upon her. Surrounded, she turned in the circle as if to find a way out. Finding none, she flashed a pretty smile at each of the angry faces glaring at her.
"What," growled Alice Witter with the ferocity of a territorial lioness, "did you do?"
"I can explain, Sweet Queen."
"You bloody well better!"
But Elizabeth Turner was not going to wait for the explanation, they learned. Baring the teeth of a tigress she pushed Alice—who was stilled in her sudden rage by the strong but struggling arms of Isaac Faust—out of her way and advanced on Neris until they were nose to nose. "Where," she grit out, eyes flashing gold in anger, "is my husband?"
"Where do you think," hissed Alice, finally breaking free of Isaac to shoulder the younger Mrs. Turner away from the prey she'd stalked first. Her icy eyes narrowed on Neris. "But with that fatuous fool of a man? That innocuous imbecile! That senseless son of a gun—that half-baked, harebrained, ill-considered, crazy cockamamie cuckoo!?"
"Well," sniffed Elizabeth Turner, "he is your cuckoo."
Samson's eyes widened as he chuckled.
"You," Alice spat, "you big brute, were probably in on it!"
"Nae, woman," he said, shaking his head but unable to keep from the chuckles that rumbled his belly, "jest sounded a good description of our Sparrow, it did."
"What's Jack done this time?"
All eyes turned toward Isaac Faust and switched to whom his question had been aimed at. Neris sighed, much aggrieved at so much chaos whirling in her head and around them, and picked up the little boy who seemed the only one to not harbor resentment or suspicion. On her hip she sat him and turned unwavering eyes upon the young man that was, in all the ways that count, Sparrow's son.
"The chief," Neris told him in the proper tongue, "has flown off on the wings of his black swan." Sensing suspicion before she saw their eyes narrow, she held up a hand. "But that does not mean that we can not fly fast to follow him." In silence she told them she knew the way and then pointed beyond the cluster of them to the fair ship floating in the water. When their gazes again fell narrow upon her, a small smile lit her lips. "Savvy?"
--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---
Antolune.
"Pretty little name for a lost island," Jack mused in a mumble.
Moonflower. At least that's what he figured it meant. Neris hadn't bothered to Anglicize and he'd not bothered to ask her to. It was somehow more an adventure that way, he thought. Besides, if he were being completely honest with himself... He frowned, wondering when the last time he'd been honest with himself was. With a shrug he let the thought flutter away in favor of thinking upon the conversation they'd had.
Jack ignored the narrow looks given him by the three priests as he took a seat in that which he knew belonged to Neris. A throne it was and one he'd had made for her. Special order in fact. The frame of the throne was cast from pure copper metal and embellished with many smooth orbs of amethyst, moonstone, and selenite which by all means was much lovelier than even the diamonds he'd had set in his own throne. His was further decorated with swirls of black pearl but he'd made certain hers were the purer sort of pearl. Fingers slipping o'er the smooth Mother of Pearl, he raised a brow at the little boy who was promptly set on his knee.
Such seemed contemptible to the sacred men who watched with mouths heavy laden with disapproval. Neris swept past, casting a wry smile of a glance at them o'er her shoulder as she went to the gilt tabernacle in the corner. Open it she did and from it withdrew two tiny lidded pots and a tied leather pack.
"No mérimna," she breathed to the three men. Her dark eyes, heavy-lidded under the kohl, glowed as her gaze fell upon the boy gazing up with wide- eyes at the dubious pirate. "Asfalistei."
Jack sighed. For a reason he could not discern those three Intuits had never seemed to much appreciate his presence. Granted the rest of the sect had made him their chief—democratic details of such unimportant of course—but even that had not seemed to sway the approval of the holy men in his favor. So it was that Jack was accustomed to their suspicious glances, stares, and glares. He nodded at the priests and laid a hand on the top of the lad's head, smirking as the boy beamed. "Aye, he's safe."
"Hmm," grunted the prettiest priest.
The priestess, sensing Jack's immediate dismay, shot the pirate a warning by way of mind and turned to glare at those of her own. "Asfalistei," she repeated.
To such there was no argument. The priests looked on in silence as upon her stone tablet she set the pots. Unlidded they revealed fine powder and crystal—the first which she called essence and the second which was clearly salt of the sea. With a flick of her wrist she sprinkled the salt in a line. Two later and there upon the table was marked a triangle. In the center of this she set the second pot and closed her eyes. Atop the pile of purple flickered to life a flame. It warmed the room and cast a glow about the woman's face as she untied the leather pack. Silver leaves and tiny orbs she took from it. In a circle she placed them around the triangle and so bowed her head to utter a quick incantation.
Jack followed suit, as did the priests though he could not bear to close his eyes as such never failed to fascinate him. From Intuit to Intuit he looked. Eyes closed, they did not notice. If they knew he did not join them in the sanctity of prayer they had never let on that they did. Glance down at the boy in his lap he did and so discovered with a start that the little one was smirking up at him.
For a moment the boy's eyes narrowed much as Jack's as they stared at each other. But he did not glare as so often did the priests. Silently his small voice said, No mérimna, i na veritos. Don't worry, I won't tell.
Jack smiled and ruffled his dark, silky hair.
Having concluded their prayer, the four Intuits opened their eyes and Neris turned to face the throne. With the glow of the flame around her and hands pressed together she looked much an exotic apparition and Jack couldn't help but admire her beauty. Oh but the sacred woman was lovely with her black hair twisted to crown her head. How pretty her complexion of spice against the pale silk of the robes that clung to her round hips and fell in droughts to fishtail about her sandaled feet. And those beautiful, black eyes narrow upon him—Jack frowned.
"Your concentration," she told him, "is ill placed."
"Sorry."
"Hmm," she murmured, full upper lip twitching as she turned her palms out and up. Mouth open and eyes closed once more, her face eased. When it and all was still, she flexed her fingers. To her palms they bent. "Antolune."
Jack leant forward, tilting his head a bit to listen.
"It is the lost." Neris breathed deep through her nose and exhaled her next words. "Essence beckons. I heard it then and I hear it now and it shows to me visions I can not ignore." Her black eyes opened to meet his. "Nor can you."
"I suppose it's too late to hope they're pleasant visions?"
Neris smiled. "They are fate dealt from the sisters' hands and woven much as the lost is with the crescent's threads. There is forever hope in both."
So usually it was Jack doing the talking and weaving of words so as not to tell the whole story and so he sensed quickly that he was now the one trying to follow the thread of the tale. It spun around him too much to grasp and so he frowned. "The crescent's threads?"
"An arc of mountaintops, once afire, rose over the sea. When lost was their light so lost was Antolune," Neris said. She stepped forward to lay a hand upon his. "There is forever hope, but no light there to see it."
Jack sighed. He wanted to believe, really he did. His doubt was what spurred him on most of the time afterall and so he pursed his lips so as not to give voice to the naysayer in his head. It was then he remembered the beacon and so opened his mouth to enquire as to its part in the proceedings.
"It is time," Neris said 'fore he could question it. She sighed softly. "That is why it's showed itself, Jack. Time is of the essence."
"And what is the essence?"
Neris smiled. "The sublime. It shall guide you to that which is lost, lighting the way for you and yours. But it will be lost as the light it replaces when step foot upon Antolune you do."
"How encouraging," he drawled, "to know we're to be left in the dark."
"But you're not to be left in the dark," she said, earning a frown of what was more confusion than contemplation but a mixture of both with a bit of dismay added nonetheless. Thread her fingers with his she did. "Illumination shall stay with you even though its source be lost."
Jack's eyes narrowed as he gazed back at her. For a matter of moments he was silent as she and the boy, the whispering of the priests being the only sound therein. "Of what is the essence essence?"
"The sublime—"
"Yes," he interrupted, smiling a bit as he flicked a finger in the air as if to hold her tongue, "you said that. But it seems to me that such is much too general to put faith in." Jack let his head lean back against the throne and gazed up into Neris' eyes under the heavy lids of his own. "Sublime is a pretty word, Neris, but it is one mistaken by most to mean only that which is divine and not which is hidden from our eyes because it is much too ghastly to see. I don't mean to make that mistake if I'm to let this essence be my guide. I'm very particular about who plots me chart, savvy?"
Neris nodded. "I understand, Jack."
"Good."
"The essence of which we've spoken," she said, "is one to be trusted, and particular to you it seems." Her smile faded to a bit of a frown. "Though there is to be trouble, it shall not be of the essence. You must heed what I am to say to you, Jack."
Jack raised his brows. Near ready to remark that he'd not heed anyone save himself, he saw the anger flash across her face and was so stalled. When it was he felt the warning she sent, he frowned and shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "Alright."
"Do not venture without the flowers of fate. Do not allow yourself to be strangled by a fate which is not your own." Neris took his hand in both of hers then and breathed deep as if she would not breathe again. "Above all, do not mistake another essence for that which guides you. Know in your heart the true essence of your faith and do not let the confusion of chaos sway it."
"Faith," he breathed. A crash below, no doubt from the feline captives that had taken every opportunity to wreak havoc upon his private sanctuary, jolted him from his reverie. With a roll of his eyes, he snorted. "Me arse!"
If he were being completely honest with himself, Jack would have to say he'd not put much faith in the tale that had so struck Bootstrap. Truly he did not think that they would wander onto a "lost" island, tramp through the wilderness—a frightening facet of the plan, to be sure—and come upon a mythical magical and wholly magnificent sword that would bring to its bearer all knowledge of all things. Unencompassable knowledge yet.
"Bleedin' hogwash!"
"Haven't done that for a spot, Cap'n," said Gibbs.
But when, Jack wondered, had Gibbs shown up? Clapping a hand firmly upon his bottle of rum, he whirled in his seat. Dizzy, he wondered how it was he was suddenly arse upon the planken floor and narrowed his eyes at the bottle that was supposed to have held him steady. With a frown he realized it was not where it had been. But where was it? Where was the bottle of rum that was his very rock upon which he based his—oh, he thought with a twitch of annoyance, there she be. Smooth glass still clutched in his hand, he lifted it to his lips and tipped back his head to drink.
"Be a good idea to let up a bit, Jack."
Bloody Gibbs, where was he Jack wondered. The thought he did not have time to ponder as suddenly he felt meaty hands haul him up from behind to put him back on his feet. Staggering—but only a little—he turned to face the sailor and raised a brow at him. "Let up a bit? This early?"
"Only been out less than a day, sir. Keep it up and I guarantee yer bum'll be black an' blue faster 'an ye can say Peter Piper Picked a Peck of Pickled Peppers."
"Why's Peter Piper pickin a peck of pickled peppers," said Jack, "if peckish his pipes be? Poppycock, those pickled peppers and peculiar a pansy is he. Peck Peter with a picky porcupine and pack up pickled peppers to pay the piper." Pleased with himself, Jack flashed a grin at a dazed Gibbs. "So, what was it?
"What was what?"
"Me time!"
"Lost count."
"You always lose count," Jack complained.
"Aye, and a right shame it is," Gibbs agreed. "Think we're to find anything upon this island we're off to?"
Jack considered spinning a story for the sailor but he knew that in his current condition he was likely to twine yarns that frayed something terrible. Work it'd be to keep the weave straight and so he only shrugged. "God only knows."
After Gibbs had gone off to show Toddle and Lemmy a thing or two about the proper filling of the Pearl's dark sails, Jack somehow found himself sitting at his desk. There he sat staring at the chart he'd marked. A long stem of black ink he'd swept across blue waters and down where arced a cluster of islands around it. A swirl he'd finished with.
Antolune.
That was where it would be—somewhere in that swirl. Somewhere in that crescent of islands would lie the moonflower. Upon her shores and through the deep, dark jungle they would tread as Will wielded the flowers of fate. Perhaps, if Peter truly paid the Piper to play a song for the three sisters, they would find, lying in secret, a powerful sword. Perhaps they would find a glittering blade of emerald ice topped with a golden handle topped with a glowing orb of infinite wisdom.
"But," Jack said to himself, "I doubt it."
--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---
"You must be joking," Alice Witter decided.
Neris had told them the tale. She'd told them of Ahku Neko Neko Khar and of his all encompassing knowledge of all things. She'd told them of Tetetuzu and the imminent battle the One Great Great God had known he would lose. She'd told them about the sword and the winged messengers and the lost island.
"No," the priestess said firmly. "I do not jest."
Certainly Jack had gone after many things that had seemed unreachable, no, nigh unreal. There'd been several times he'd given chase to several separate elixirs said to contain the key to immortality. There'd been at least twice that he'd gone off in search of treasure sunk to the haunted sea. There'd been the once that he'd sought a gem said to contain the life force of all the conscious world. But never had Alice Witter heard such nonsense fall from the pirate's lips and though he was nonsensical enough to imagine such might be so, she could not wholly believe that Neris were telling the truth and that Captain Jack Sparrow was putting stock in a myth in which there was a wrathful god called—
"Tetetuzu," she grumbled, crossing her arms. "Sounds like a bloody ballet!"
"Do not mock the powers that be!"
Ignoring Neris' sharp command, Elizabeth stepped forward. To the woman's credit she did not shove Alice out of the way. The dark look she shot at her, though, did suffice. "You said that Jack was waiting for a sign." When Neris did not respond, Mrs. Turner folded her own arms. "Did he get one?"
"Yes," said Neris. "He would not proceed otherwise."
"What was it?"
"A green beacon beckoning."
"I suppose you mean to tell us," said Elizabeth, "that it is the essence of the glittering blade of emerald ice?"
"No," said Neris, smiling gently. "It is essence, yes, but of a sword? No, Missus Turner. It is essence of the sublime."
"Divine intervention," Alice put in, throwing up her hands. She shook her head. "Just what Jack needs!"
"Well you're right about that," Elizabeth snipped.
"Seemsbetwixt y'two we could use some o'that, us-selves!"
Isaac nodded at Samson. He ignored the look of outrage on Alice's face and turned instead to Neris. "A beacon," he said, smiling nicely at the priestess, "is a guiding light, is it not?"
"Ah," said Neris with a smile that matched his, "you are every bit his son, are you not? Yes. A beacon, young Captain, is a guiding light."
"Then tell us," said Alice, glancing between the flush-faced Isaac and heavy-lidded Neris, "whereto it shall guide."
"So that we may be off," Elizabeth added. She shot a withering look at Alice, who mouthed an appropriate response, and then at Samson who looked appropriately offended as he'd obviously not considered that she'd considered he'd not considered her feelings in some manner. "Without delay."
They'd gathered necessary provisions and stowed them aboard the Swan. Indeed they had stood upon the bonny ship as Neris recounted the tale. Those that had been left behind still stood around her. The high priests, save one to care for the little boy, had agreed to venture out with them. So it was that they stood there as calmly as they always were ashore though the two Turner children were romping circles around them, Jack chasing a giggling Little Lucy with the croquet mallet that Will had previously seized.
"Perhaps," Alice said to Elizabeth, "you should watch after your children."
"I shall consider your suggestion," Elizabeth said, "when you bear two of your own."
To this there was no argument. For a moment Elizabeth seemed thrilled with her victory, but when Alice Witter's eyes sparkled in a way that did not rely upon the glint of the sun she held her breath wondering if she had said something that should not have been said. A bit relieved Elizabeth was when the other woman blinked and fixed her with an icy glare. Comforted by such as she was, she did not rest completely for she saw the all-seeing Neris soften and lay her dark hand on that which was dainty, pale, and fisted.
"They are only making merry," Isaac said, breaking the silence as he wrapped an arm around the woman who was so small in front of him. "Entertaining themselves whilst we figure where it is we're going. Neris?"
For several silent moments the priestess regarded each of them. First she looked to the woman she had only just played quiet counsel to. Alice Witter's grey eyes were at first cloudy but they cleared to fix upon her. In that gaze, and in the gaze of all the rest of them, she found grim determination and unbreakable spirit that even the pirate they were going to go after would have to appreciate.
"Antolune," she said. "The moonflower woven with the crescent's threads of light. It lies east and south in wait."
"So," said Samson, "what's it waitin' for?"
"That which is brought by the green. That which will make it bloom." Neris smiled. "It waits to blossom."
There was a quiet moment aboard the ship as all considered that which Neris had said. Isaac Faust frowned, Samson's green eyes rolled up to study the sky as if it held more answers, and the two priests glanced at each other. Alice and Elizabeth stood with arms folded, both glaring at the priestess. The children, whom were not being watched well afterall, hurtled through the gathered group, Little Lucy having obviously procured the mallet. Jack chuckled gleefully as he darted around Samson's ankle. The big man, lost in thought, did not notice. Little Lucy, however, was gaining on her brother. Fast enough she flew 'tween the man's boots that a strange breeze rustled his breeches. He frowned down. Not quick enough he was and so only saw a streak of pink ribbon. The giggle that sounded somewhere behind his backside raised his brows but he ignored it otherwise, instead pushing aside a stray lock of sunlit reddish hair to fix his gaze upon the slight, exotic woman before him.
"Who's t'claim rank?"
"It is my husband's ship," Elizabeth said, lifting her chin, "so he is her captain and I the first mate. In his absence I should think rank falls in my hands."
"Yours?" Alice sneered. "Well, you do sleep much as Jack does, I'll give you that."
"And I'll give you—"
"Captaincy? Thank you. Afterall I am the most qualified person standing here."
"Most qualified?" Elizabeth arched a brow at the woman's frilly gown. "For what? Tea with the King?"
Alice grit her teeth. To her bosom went her hand and fast fingers drew out something gilt and lovely. With a flick it sprang open to reveal a deadly blade that gleamed in the sunlight. Elizabeth glared at her and just as fast found at her hip the dagger Will had gifted her with upon their second voyage with Jack Sparrow. It was a graceful piece and she wielded it well, brown eyes afire as she hefted its sparkling silver blade in the air. Not to be outdone, Alice's other hand shot to her thigh where in the ruffles it disappeared. A flash of gold and brilliant white later and Elizabeth Turner was staring down the blade of a deadlier dagger fancy as the gown it had been concealed by.
"The King drinks whiskey and wine," Alice Witter said, lifting her own chin, "as do I. But that is not the only thing that the King and I have in common, Missus Turner." Icy eyes narrowed upon a dubious Elizabeth. "We're both ace at keeping the order. Something," she said, inclining her head toward the two shrieking children behind her, "you don't seem to have a handle on, if you don't mind me saying so."
Elizabeth gripped the slighter woman's grip on the deadly dagger and dragged her forward, baring her teeth. "I do mind."
"Ladies," said Isaac, wrangling Alice out of Elizabeth's grip and stepping between them to treat each to a charming smile, "let us not forget that it is not we but our frustrations that are the source of our anger. The both of you get on quite well under normal circumstances and my heart is torn to see anything to the contrary. It is because of that that I must say... I believe I've a solution to this dispute of yours." Satisfied with their silence as well as their narrow gaze upon him, which he fought against with a charminger smile that was most likely his charmingest, he flourished the tricorn hat he'd brought from his sleeping quarters and plopped it on his head. "I call rank."
Having watched all of this, as well as the subsequent effects of such, Samson stepped forward and took the wide-eyed young gent by the lapels of his white shirt. Lift him from the oncoming wrath of the women he did and so set him behind himself. Turn round to face the rest of them Samson did with a scowl.
"I," the big man said, thumping a sizable fist o'er his heart, "Sam Samson, am naet about t'sail under command of a runtish redcoat! Naer will I take me orders from a woman who ain't me wife!" His green eyes glowered at the two women, the scar upon his face twitching as his jaw did. At Neris he nodded. "If anyone's t'sail this ship, this lit'l beauty of a seabird belongin to Will Turner, it'll be me."
To this there was no argument. Both defeated, Elizabeth and Alice regarded each other with hostility and suspicion. Isaac Faust sighed and patted his tricorn hat lovingly, and the two Intuit priests raised hands to their foreheads to salute Captain Sam Samson. Neris smiled a great beaming grin and cocked her head at the new leader.
"What are we waiting for, Captain?"
It was only a mite later, after the Swan's sails had swelled and carried her swiftly to sea on whispering wings that Elizabeth reappeared on deck. In the captain's quarters she'd sequestered her children. They were involved in a quiet game of checkers and so she left them to it. On her mind it was to find out how far they'd sailed. On the horizon astern she narrowed her eyes. There was naught but a speck and so she turned to look up at a proud Samson.
"Fast she is."
"Yes," Elizabeth agreed. "I think she is nigh fast as the Pearl."
"And yet that is too slow to catch up!"
The voice was not a booming brogue, though, and so Elizabeth turned to face whose sharp tongue had cut in. Alice Witter stood beside her in clothes more fitting a sail of the sea. Gone was the fancy dress and in its place soft blue breeches and a loose muslin shirt much like that Elizabeth had changed into. The thick fishtail braid her white curls made was like to her own as well. Such was enough to remind Elizabeth that Isaac had been right and that she got on well enough with the woman she'd taken frustration out on.
"Unfortunately," she agreed as she fell into step beside her. In the shadow of the shrouds she sat on a crate as the other woman did and took her own dagger from its sheath. Flaying fish was not her specialty but it was something to do and something of a necessity if any of them wanted to fill their bellies. She wrinkled her nose as the reddish brown muck of guts fell upon the sack laid on the deck. After a bit of the silence between them, and much nose wrinkling besides, Elizabeth stole a glance at her lip-bit companion and felt the weight of her previous words. "That which was said earlier—"
"Was not my place to say," Alice said, swiftly flaying a fish with a silver dagger Elizabeth hadn't seen before. "Your children are a matter which is not of my concern. I apologize."
"Thank you, but I—"
Alice sighed, drawing the skeleton of a fish out and slapping its flesh in the bucket. "Let us forget it, Elizabeth. There's as much sense dwelling upon it as there is in Jack Sparrow's head." With that she lopped off a silver-scaled fish's head, tossed it overboard, and wriggled the body 'tween finger and thumb. "None, as it were."
Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh. She shook her head and went about the flaying and the nose wrinkling. But the woman's words had sparked her fears. Dropping her last fish in the bucket, she dipped her blade in the bowl of water, wiped it with a cloth, and turned it over in her hands watching the other woman do the same. "I do hope that at the moment he's more sense in his head than we think."
"As do I." Alice arched a brow. "What high hopes we have, mm?"
--- --- --- ------- () ------- --- --- ---
Author's Babble: This time, when Jack is reflecting... the priests are worried about the boy being so close to the pirate and so Neris says "No mérimna". She means "Don't worry." (Mérimna really is Greek for 'worry'.) When she says "Asfalistei" she means "He is safe". (Asfalis really means 'safe' in Greek.) The boy says to Jack "No mérimna, i na veritos" and he means "Don't worry, I won't tell (that you're not praying with them)". (This would sound like ee nah vare-eetus- i na just sounded nice and veritos, well I suppose I got that more from Spanish than anything. Verdad is 'truth' and I thought 'veritos' would stand in well for 'tell them true'.) Really more a fan of making the words sound lovely and connotate unconscious meaning using roots and archaic bits to fill in and call to mind the things we keep hidden in our heads...
