Into the Vortex

Chapter 17

Pirates at RenFaire

A/N (7/28/06): This chapter contains a sneak preview at a character who stars in a romance I'm currently writing, and which I will, with luck, get published. With a lot of luck, and a miracle from God. The title is "Bite Me," so if anyone sees a romance by that title sometime in the next year, I suggest you buy it, 'cause it's probably mine.

Wow, what a coincidence. I just found the papers detailing a scene with this character at RenFaire, which I had been missing. Turns out I was using them to keep the condensation on my glass off my desk. Aren't I a genius. Yeah, I know, sometimes I surprise even myself.

Somehow real time caught up with me while I was writing this story. I'll blame it on college. I got distracted by another story. My totally re-vamped "If I Were a Herald." It's not a PotC fic, but it does have a pirate, and it's much better than this one. Not quite as crazy, but I still think it's more fun.


Bay Area RenFaire was in for quite an adventure, though no one would realize it except those who were involved. It seemed a day like any other: a Saturday, the beginning of the weekend. March 4, 2006, to be exact. At the moment, the sun wasn't even up. The only movement came from two brightly dressed pirates with unnaturally pale skin. Their pallor wasn't helped by the excess of sunscreen smeared over all their exposed skin (of which there wasn't much).

"I still do not think Apollo will be fooled," said the less flamboyantly dressed of the two.

"Hey, it worked for me last month," the other said, lugging a large chest to a tent at the back of the fair. It was none other than Corwin Vespers. The subject of their conversation was the sunscreen both were wearing, and the cloudy day upon which Corwin had traveled safely in the sun. "Still don't see why you want this thing here. It'd be much safer on the ship."

"I was hoping to have an elf take a look at it," Corwin's companion replied in a faint French accent. "Put it in the back of the tent, out of sight. I do not want the curious to see it and fall prey to the curse."

"Aye, aye, Captain. Whatever you say." Corwin sketched a mocking salute at tugged the chest further back into the tent.

The captain rolled his eyes. He wouldn't take this sort of disrespect from the human members of his crew, but Corwin, along with many of the other vampires in his crew, had stuck with him through events three centuries ago that he'd long since walled off from his memory. What he could remember was that they'd been hanged together, and that sort of shared experience wasn't easily forgotten or ignored.

The tent itself was heavily draped, blocking out all traces of the pre-dawn light. A sensible precaution for those who stalked the night and couldn't bear the touch of the sun. Apollo didn't look kindly upon creatures who had no souls. Captain Jacques Dumond didn't particularly care—he had been a creature of the night before his descent into piracy—but Corwin missed the sun. Thus one reason for their current adventure. Since the invention of sunscreen, Corwin had been trying various brands in an attempt to fool Apollo, or at least redirect the brunt of his wrath. He seemed to have hit upon a brand that worked approximately a month ago, but Jacques still believed that it was more the cloud cover than the sunscreen that had kept Corwin from being burnt.

The second reason was the chest which was now partially concealed in the back of the tent. Cursed treasure. Jacques had contacted an elf who specialized in curses to take a look and see if the curse could be broken, and the elf had demanded they meet on neutral ground with a crowd of witnesses. RenFaire seemed the ideal solution, since neither elves nor vampires would be given a second glance, but there would be plenty of people around with access to swords and the ability to use them if things got violent. It would be daylight, but as long as Jacques stayed inside the tent, he should be safe.

Corwin, of course, wouldn't be taking such extreme precautions. Crazy vampire. He always did have a suicidal streak. Then again, that's what pirates did best.


For once, the Black Pearl and all accompanying ships were well away from the Bermuda Triangle, on the opposite side of Florida. Tampa Bay, to be precise. They were being manned (and womanned) by the less adventurous pirates while the more adventurous ones headed to RenFaire.

"You'll have to check your weapons," the lady at the ticket counter said.

Katie looked ready to protest, but this was one excursion where they didn't want to cause any trouble. Lyn elbowed her. With a sigh, Katie handed over two pistols, a cutlass, a rapier, thirteen knives, and a can of pepper-spray. The rest handed over similar ensembles, although not quite as extensive. Lyn was the only other pirate with pepper-spray. She kept it in her pocket, just in case.

Lyn, Katie, Kyra, Jack Junior, Uncle Jack, and Bard Woggle made an unerring bee-line for the pirate tent at the back of the faire. The others split up into smaller groups to check out various weapons tents and clothing booths.

The tent was dark—extremely dark. It took several seconds for Lyn's eyes to adjust. There didn't seem to be anyone manning it, just lots and lots of cool piratey stuff and Katie with Billy on her hip and Jack Junior and Bard Woggle. Uncle Jack was still outside, admiring the weapons in the tent next door. Oh—there was the owner, hiding in the very back.

Wait a minute. Where was Kyra?

Lyn finally spotted her in the back of the tent, trying to pry the lid off a strangely familiar chest. The tent's owner spotted her at about the same time. "Non! Do not touch that! C'est tres mauvais. It is very bad."

Kyra ignored him. Just as she lifted the lid and slid it back, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away.

"Shiny," she murmured, enthralled.

Lyn and the others stared down at the contents of the chest.

Aztec gold.

Very familiar Aztec gold.

"It is cursed," the Frenchman said with aplomb. "Please, do not touch. It is merely for decoration."

Lyn took a step back. After all she'd seen, she so did not want to risk being cursed, however slight the possibility that this was the chest.

"The Isla de Muerta, it sank into the water again. This chest is worth much, if only the curse can be removed," the man explained.

Lyn nodded as if she understood. Was he really saying that he'd rescued the chest from the sinking island? And what did he mean, again?

Katie cocked her head. "You'd probably need to find a descendant of Cortez to sacrifice to the Aztec gods. You know, the ultimate blood sacrifice."

The man nodded. "Oui, that is what the elf said. He also suggested I not do that, but let the curse remain. I do not believe I shall take his advice."

Katie continued, "I'm curious, though. How'd ye manage to fin the Isla de Muerta? I know for a fact ye don't have the compass."

"The compass?" He looked slightly confused. "The Island of the Dead cannot be found except by those who already know where it is, so I went with someone who had been there before."

Katie let out a noise that was half-hiss, half-growl, exposing her fangs. "Of course you did."

The man's eyes widened. "You are not a vampire, either, and yet you have fangs."

"I like my fangs. Don't dis 'em or I'll shoot you."

He nodded as if death threats were an everyday occurrence. Maybe they were.

"Either?" Lyn asked, ever curious.

"I refer to a charming girl named Kerry Thomas whom I met earlier this morning. I am sure she would also have suggested sacrificing on of Cortez's descendants and may even have offered to find one herself, had she believed in such things." He turned his attention toward putting the lid back on the chest. When he did it, it seemed so effortless. "By the way, I am—"

"Jacques Dumond?" Uncle Jack's incredulous voice could probably be heard throughout the faire. He stepped into the tent, looking about rather aimlessly in the sudden darkness. "I knew I knew yer voice. Don't tell me you took one o' the medallions, an' that's how yer still alive after all this time."

"No indeed. I took them all." His task finished, Dumond straightened and turned to face Uncle Jack. "Captain Jack Sparrow. I see the rumors are true, as they so seldom are. You are older than I remember. How is it that you still survive in this century?"

"Time travel," Uncle Jack replied. He pointed at Lyn. "Her brother could explain."

"I see. I assume you are his son," he nodded at Jack Junior. "And you, fair ladies, what are your names?"

While they introduced themselves, a handsome man wearing sunscreen even thicker than Jacques's and a bright red sunburn stumbled into the tent. "Captain, much as I hate to admit it, you were right. The sunscreen isn't working. Perhaps we should try—oh, hello. The crew of the Black Pearl, I presume."

"And the Windrunner," Katie said, shifting Billy to her other hip.

The newcomer bowed to Bard Woggle. "Miss Sally, how nice it is to see you again."

"Corwin!" Bard Woggle exclaimed, nearly swooning in delight.

Dumond raised an amused eyebrow. "I take it you two know each other?"

"Indeed. It was this fair maid who informed me that the rumors about the Pearl were true."

"Ah. I see. Speaking of fair maids, did you perchance to see a prickly lass in a corset she truly does not need to wear march her way through the faire?" He frowned at his palm. "In fact, she looked very much like m'lady Kate, fake fangs and all. I cannot help but wonder if the two are related."

Katie cast him a mutinous glare. "How do you know my fangs are fake?"

"Because his are real," Bard Woggle murmured, still gazing adoringly at Corwin.

Dumond glared at his crewman. "I do not recall telling anyone that I had fangs."

"It's okay," Bard Woggle said, trying to diffuse the situation. "There's nothing wrong with vampires. Kyra's a Martian."

"I am so not a Martian, you—you—you Terrarium!"

Before Kyra could think up any more insults—or Bard Woggle could correct her that she was, in fact, a Velgarthian—Lyn flipped a quarter in the air. Kyra caught it, suddenly grinning. "Shiny."

Dumond shook his head. "And I thought my crew had issues." He looked at Kyra. "A Martian."

"Do I look like a little green man to you?"

"Of course we have issues," Corwin said. "We're the living dead, bound to the service of a crazy goddess who eats demons for breakfast."

"Well, I do not know," Dumond told Kyra. "You could be in disguise. If you'll excuse me, Corwin, I seem to have misplaced my mind. Now, where is that sunscreen?"

"It doesn't work," Corwin warned him. "Apollo isn't fooled."

Dumond took in Corwin's sunburn. "Oui, I noticed. At the moment, I do not care. I believe I shall go find Miss Kerry Thomas and join her in her denial of all things magical. If I am lucky, she will convince Apollo he does not exist." He pulled a bottle of sunscreen from beneath the counter and began slathering himself—nevermind that the stuff he'd put on hours ago still hadn't been absorbed. "As for yourself, Corwin, if that lass has any sense, you'll not long be needing to fear Apollo's glare."

"Captain?"

"I may be dead, but I am not blind. She is your Redeemer, oui?"

"Aye," Corwin replied.

As far as Lyn could tell, the two of them were speaking in code. She sure couldn't understand what they were saying. Redeemer? What was that?

"Then take a few months off. If things work out, you needn't return, although I would be most grateful if you do. Make sure to invite me to the wedding."

"Wedding?" Bard Woggle asked. "What wedding?"

Rather than answer, Dumond strode out of the dark tent into the midmorning sun.

Uncle Jack looked from the rapidly-disappearing Jacques Dumond to the sunburn-sporting Corwin Vespers. "I take it you're also older than you look?" He was taking the whole vampire thing quite well. He was, after all, quite experienced in dealing with undead pirates.

"By about three centuries," Corwin replied. "So, you're the infamous Jack Sparrow."

"Captain Jack Sparrow," four voices corrected him simultaneously.

"What wedding?" Bard Woggle repeated.

Corwin shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I, well, that is, Captain Dumond expects us to fall in love and marry. He's probably right; that's usually the way this sort of thing works."

"What, exactly, are you talking about?"

"Start with the Redeemer bit," Lyn suggested.

Corwin explained, "Every vampire has a Redeemer, the person destined to be his or her mate. For those of us who became vampires after we died, rather than being born that way, the Redeemer's job is to, well, retrieve our souls." He winced when Bard Woggle took a step back. "My soul is currently being held by Kali, the Goddess of Death. If it weren't for her son Eros, there'd be no way to get it back."

"Wait a minute," Lyn interrupted. "Are we talking about gods?"

"I believe you have encountered the Aztec gods?" This was directed at Uncle Jack.

Lyn answered for him. "Yeah, but only kinda. Besides, Eros is the son of Aphrodite."

"If you're going to make up this kind of bullshit, you might as well get your facts straight," Katie added.

"What makes you think I'm the one who got his facts wrong?" Corwin asked.

"I believe you," Bard Woggle said softly. Let it be pointed out that she was from another planet and thus had never heard of Kali, Eros, or Aphrodite, so had nothing against which to judge Corwin's story.

Let it also be pointed out that, against all odds, Corwin was telling the truth. The Greeks were really much better at philosophy than religion. The Romans weren't much better, minus the philosophy.

"Never doubted it, love."

"I like it," Jack said reflectively. "It's a good line. 'I need you to save my soul.' Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

Lyn socked him in the stomach.

"Suppose I deserved that. But I was really expecting a slap."

"I admire your choice of friends," Corwin teased.

"Well," Bard Woggle replied, "I didn't actually choose them. I was more dumped in their laps, as it were. So, how do I go about retrieving your soul?"

At that, Corwin looked mightily relieved. "Well, we need to summon Kali. After that, I don't much know."

"So. We have to face a goddess?"

"Aye."

"Right. Let's wait a few months and fall in love first."

"Good idea."

Jack snorted. "Doubt it'll take more'n a month." He was met with several glares.

Kyra continued to play with her quarter.

"With them two making calf's-eyes at each other, we could probably steal everything in this tent and slip out unnoticed," Uncle Jack observed.

"Aye," Lyn nodded. "I do believe yer right."

"For once," his son added.

Their plan could have worked, except for the fact that, at that very moment, Jacques Dumond strode back into the tent, his skin a delicate shade of pink. "That girl has issues," he announced. "Her sister caught fire, and she denied it was even happening."

"I believe now is the time to make a discreet exit," Katie suggested. "Why don't we go view those knife-throwing booths I spotted on our way in?" So they left, leaving Bard Woggle and Corwin still gazing into each other's eyes.

Katie, of course, managed to nail the target the first time. The guy manning the booth handed her a sticker and said, "Repeat after me."

Katie nodded cautiously.

"I."

"I."

"Am."

"Am."

"A."

"A."

"Wiener."

Katie reached for her pistol, which wasn't there. Lyn tossed her the pepper-spray she'd hidden in her pocket. Katie sprayed the guy, and they ran like hell, although both were weighed down by their children. The others joined them outside the faire much later. They all retrieved their weapons and headed back to their respective ships.


Right. This is the point where I threaten all my readers with bodily harm if they don't review. But I'm feeling in a charitable mood today (saints know why; I haven't gotten any reviews), so I'll just put on my puppy-dog expression and beg. Pretty please with sugar and cherries on top? What did you think of this chapter? The change in writing style? The setting? Any cursed thing you can think of, just please review.