A Gilded Cage: Sequel to Broken Wings, Part II of the Fallen Sparrows Trilogy

A Pirates of the Caribbean story by Merrie

Disclaimer: Jack, Norry, Liz, Lorelac, Barbossa and all others own me. I would never attempt to claim otherwise.

Summary: As a battle is waged for Jack's soul by all the angels of heaven and all the demons in hell with Barbossa as their warrior, will our Sparrow be able to see a way out of the gilded cage that surrounds him before all is lost?

Characters: Captain Jack Sparrow, Chief James Norrington, Elizabeth Swann, Hector Barbossa, Lorelac and various others.

Author's Note: I'm trying my best to update this quickly, but as with my other three fics it has to wait its turn in the queue. Sorry about this and I thank you all for your continued patience.

Rating: R for violence and language.

Chapter 14: Devil's Bargains

Wuinakexa, Norrington's Island.

Lorelac waited. And Lorelac remembered. He remembered a time far before the earliest memory of the race of the man he inhabited. He remembered a time when he was flesh—or as near to it as a god could achieve while maintaining his godhead—and he did not know how those times had been forgotten. He had been imprisoned by his lord and lady, that he remembered, but for what? Why had they imprisoned him? What crime had he committed to force him into banishment. He vaguely remembered that the crystal in which he was caged was one of the Lady's treasured baubles. She had not surrendered it lightly but her husband had convinced her.

Damn them both for what they had done to him. They had stolen his existence, stolen his power. He was a god and they had relegated him to the life of a prisoner; a slave to the whims of the fates. He had remained in that goddamned crystal for time longer than memory, awaiting his chance to take revenge on his captors. It did not matter that they were gods. He too was a god. He could—would—kill them both for the injustice they had served upon him.

Oonid had always been so smug, so self-righteous. He might have been the king of the gods but he was a fool. And now, and now he wasn't even remembered anymore. He wasn't revered, he wasn't worshipped, he had been forgotten. He had lost his name in the halls of time and Lorelac was pleased. He knew somehow that the Kourikan Plane was empty of all his brethren. He was the only one left of the 13 that had ruled the earth and heavens. He did not know what happened to them all; did not know if they remembered his absence, but he did not care. They were gone. He remained. And he had followers. Children of the Fallen, they called themselves. He should have been irritated by the title of Fallen rather than the ones his mantle had given him but he found it curiously satisfying. He was Fallen. And yet he was Lorelac as well. It was his only; his ancient name and the day it passed forgotten from the lips of men would be the day he would to pass beyond the reach of the Plane. Would he join the others then? Would he simply cease to exist? He wasn't about to find out whatever the outcome might be. This was his domain now. His world. He would not leave it.

But who had called to him? He had heard their plea of fealty but he had been unable to answer them. They had offered a worthy offering of a warrior's freshly spilt blood; that made them at least somewhat worthy of his attention. If only he could free himself of this prison. If the crystal was smashed he would be free. The pirate knew this and wouldn't let the others near him. But now the pirate did not notice him. He had forgotten. Something—he dared not speak its name for it was even older than him—had taken the pirate. Somehow this man was important but Lorelac couldn't understand why. What had he done? Why did he matter? Why should the ancient and powerful Others be concerned with him? He was nothing! He was a whining mortal!

It is not for you to worry about. He is ours. He has always been ours. Since the moment of his first breath his name was written into our book. He is not yours, trickster. Your time in this plane has ended.

The voice seemed to echo through Lorelac's very existence, and somehow instinctively he knew he should fear it and he did. He did not understand the existence of the Others, he just knew they were and always had been. He did not know if they represented themselves or something even greater. It had been a taboo subject on the Plane and no matter how often he had questioned Oonid about them his queries would always be ignored. But he had kept asking, thirsting for the knowledge that had been denied him. He wasn't certain but he suspected it was those very questions which had strengthened Oonid and the rest of the Plane against him. The crime they had imprisoned him for he could no longer fully remember…something about a mortal girl…but he was certain that his questions had been the real reason.

You asked questions to which no one must know the answer. That is why your brethren shunned you, trickster. We are not to be questioned. We are not to be sought out. We are to be feared and worshipped.

"You have worshippers?" Lorelac asked the…Other his first direct question. He knew he shouldn't ask it questions, he had even been warned not to ask it questions, but he couldn't help it. He had always been more curious than was probably wise. Many of the other gods had told him as much. So what if he was curious? Was he just supposed to lie back like the others did not questioning anything? He couldn't do that. He needed to know more. He needed reasons. He may not have been the god of wisdom and the search for knowledge but that didn't mean he didn't believe in those things. After all, how could he effectively create mischief if he didn't know the best way to do so? Knowledge was power and he wanted that power.

You should have listened to the other lower beings. Your curiosity will be your undoing.

Lorelac told himself that he wasn't afraid of this being and its threats, but that was a lie. He was afraid and he hated it. He was Lorelac, the god of misery and destruction, trickery and pain, storms and deception and he was afraid. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. Who or what was this being to inspire such fear?

The being laughed and Lorelac felt himself tremble. He wanted to yell at it to stop; to stop laughing at him, but he couldn't say the words.

You do right to fear me, trickster. We could end your existence with a mere thought; a whim. You know this. You believe this and understand this.

"Are you many? Or one?" The way the being had shifted between referring to itself as 'me' and 'we' confused him. He tried not to focus on the threat.

We are one and all. It said simply.

"Are you what the mortals call the devil?" Lorelac couldn't help his questions even now. The being laughed and Lorelac wondering at the humour of his words.

He belongs to us. He speaks for us but we are not the same. We are beyond the understanding of mere mortals and lower beings such as yourself, trickster.

Again that term, lower being. And to be compared to the mortals! It was unbearable.

Are you going to ask me to stop? Do you see yourself as worthy of my attentions?

"You are talking to me. If you truly considered me so unworthy of your esteem you wouldn't bother paying any attention to me," Lorelac said, trying for confidence. The being was silent for a long time and Lorelac entertained the notion—briefly—that he had actually managed to trick it. Either that or it was simply ignoring him again.

You have your place in this world.

That wasn't exactly an answer, but at least he wasn't being ignored. "Do you have a name?"

Our minions have names. We are eternal. We have no use of a name.

Names were power. Surely this being must have a name. Perhaps it simply didn't want it known. "Then what do I call you?"

The being seemed to hesitate before uttering a single name. Rasalom

Lorelac had no idea if this was the being's true name—it probably wasn't—but it sounded…right somehow. It was as if he remembered this name in the pit of his existence and knew to fear it. "Rasalom," he repeated, immediately wishing he hadn't. To speak a being's true name was to draw its attention upon you and Lorelac was no longer sure he wanted that attention.

It is far too late for that. We are already here.

If Lorelac could have run, if he could have fled far, far away from this being, this Rasalom with its—his—cool voice like blackness behind the sun; dark that would never end, he would have. He would have left this plane never come back. But he couldn't. He was trapped and Rasalom knew it.

Serve us and we will free you from your prison. Pledge fealty to us and you will reign again.

"How do I know you'll do what you say if I agree?" Why was he being offered this? This was what he wanted, what he longed for, yet he sensed a catch.

You don't. Do we have a bargain or not? Those who do not deal with us are not suffered to live.

"When you put it that way I guess I have no choice," Lorelac said dryly, not liking this at all. He was supposed to make the deals, not others.

Correct. You have no choice. Agree.

"Free me from this place and I shall serve you, Rasalom."

Good. It shall be done. You belong to us now. You are ours.

Lorelac didn't like the sound of that, but he needed to be free. He would be free and then he would make the pirate and his friends pay for their insolence.

No. Sparrow is ours. You may have the others; the one marked as yours and the girl. They are yours. Leave Sparrow to us. We have plans for him…

ooo

Thorneheart, England 1679

Richard walked from where he had exchanged words and threats with the whore, his eyes seeking out the red-roofed building she had mentioned. If anyone knows where to find Captain Pardal, he'd be there…The Crimson King is the red roofed building straight that way...Don't get yourself killed. Richard would try to follow the whore's last words. He probably should have had a plan to ensure that but he just wanted to find Eva's brother. He had been gone from her side for far too long now. He simply wanted this all to end but he couldn't just turn around. Not without completing what he had set out to do. He had to find Edward and see for himself if the rumours about him were true. He had to know if the bookish young man he had known 6 years ago truly had forsaken his family to become a vicious pirate.

He straightened his dingy clothing as he approached the building in question, hoping he knew what the hell he was doing. The whore hadn't seemed to think much of his chances of coming out of this place alive. I don't know what the problem is. It doesn't look that bad— His thoughts were cut off by a bloodied and bruised man sailing out the red doors of the…establishment followed by loud cursing and raucous laughter. He swallowed after a moment and moved into the building.

The din that embraced him was staggering and he nearly turned on a heel and walked back out before steadying himself. He was relieved to notice that every eye hadn't turned to him upon entering as he had feared. Actually, he was pretty well ignored by the patrons of this particular…establishment. He walked up to the bar and tried to catch the barkeep's eye, figuring if anyone had any information regarding those who came and went in this particular port, it would be the one who sold them their rum.

The barkeep glanced over to his dirtied figure with little to no interest before his cool eyes set on the noticeable bulge of coin in his pockets. Then he was all smiles and welcomes. "What can I get for you, mate?" he asked with a broad smile, and Richard had no doubt he would have been clapped on the back in a brotherly manner had he been close enough to reach.

"I'm in need of information, actually. If you have the knowledge I seek and I am able to make use of it, I will reward you," Richard bargained with the slimy man.

"And just what is it that you be needin' mate? What kind of information?"

"I'm looking for a man."

"Well we don't usually cater to that sort of…entertainment, but you might try down on the docks—"

"No! No that's not what I meant!" Richard hastened to correct the man's faulty assumption. "I mean I'm searching for a man. I need to speak with him."

"Oh? And what might this man's name be, son?" the barkeep asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm told he goes by many names but the one you may have heard of is John Pardal. Captain John Pardal."

The barkeep's eyes narrowed and he shook his head. "Keep your money, son. You'll be getting no information on that man from the likes of me."

Richard brought out his money purse and placed it on the bar, letting the keep hear the jingle of gold held within. "You've heard of him, I take it. Where can I find him?" Richard froze as he became aware of hungry eyes shifting in his direction. Apparently the barkeep hadn't been the only one to hear the sound of the gold he carried. He muttered a curse under his breath as his brash foolishness and placed his free hand on the hilt of his dagger. He prayed he would not have to use it.

"You can't. But I'm certain he'll find you."

"Oh? Why can't I find him?" Richard asked warily. Was the man dead? He half hoped that he was. At least then he could give Eva and her mother the peace of knowing for certain that Edward was dead.

"You can't find him because Captain John Pardal doesn't exist anymore, mate. No one's seen or heard from him for over a year now. His ship is captained by his first mate."

Damn. How am I supposed to find him now? Richard was about to despair when a thought occurred to him. Would he have changed his name again? "Have you heard of any new pirates named Sperling?"

"Sperling?" the barkeep questioned with an incredulous look. "Never heard of no Sperling."

"No Sperling, alright. How about…" Richard paused and considered. Sperling and Pardal both meant the same thing: sparrow. Would Edward follow the pattern? "Have you heard of a man by the name of Sparrow?" Something clicked behind the barkeep's eyes and Richard went on. "Edward or John Sparrow? Jack perhaps?" He was asking the right questions. He could feel it.

"Captain Jack Sparrow is the captain of the Black Pearl," the barkeep answered him with a frown, obviously trying to figure out the connection between Pardal and Sparrow for himself.

"The Black Pearl. Do you know where her berth is?" Richard asked eagerly. "Is she here?"

"You missed her naught by two weeks."

"Where? Where did she go? Tell me," Richard demanded in his best magisterial voice.

"Tortuga. You'll find her in Tortuga. Now I've told you what you need to know so where's my mon—" the barkeep cut himself off at Richard's hasty exit and was about to send his boys after him when he noticed the inquisitive stranger had left his heavy money purse behind. All the more a fool then. Let him chase after pirates. He'll only be leading himself to his own grave. No concern of mine.

WWW

Jack couldn't help but roll his eyes at Barbossa's confusion. The dead pirate's sword was sunk hilt-deep into his chest but Jack didn't feel a thing. Barbossa on the other hand looked livid. "I'm guessing whoever brought you back didn't tell you of my current…circumstances, did they, Barbossa?" Jack drawled sarcastically.

"You're cursed," was all Barbossa seemed to have to say on the subject.

"How good of you to notice. Would you mind removing your sword from my chest now? It…itches." It was easy for Jack to be glib about his own life—he was dead—but he was fully aware that Elizabeth and Norrington weren't and could in fact be hurt. Barbossa just stood there, a stormy scowl pushing through the mask of confusion at Jack's predicament. Jack knew he had to act quickly before Barbossa regained enough presence of mind to see if they were all cursed or if he could kill each of them in turn.

For Barbossa's part he was more than a little confused by the current goings on. Had he been told that Jack was cursed? Wasn't it the curse itself that had resurrected him and sent him after Sparrow in the first place? How was supposed to kill a man who was already dead? "I'm being played," he growled a moment later, realisation dawning. Jack was cursed. The being that had sent him had known of this. It had known Barbossa wouldn't be able to kill Sparrow no matter how he tried. So why then had he been resurrected? Was this some new kind of torment? To escape hell itself to spend eternity trying to kill a man who could not be killed? He would be a puppet no longer. "Don't bother trying to warn them. They've nothing to fear from me," Barbossa spoke up suddenly, not even bothering to look up at Jack as he vainly tried to warn his two remaining friends away.

"Come now, Barbossa. You don't honestly expect me to believe that? The moment we let our guard down you'll stab us in the back. It's what you do," Jack spoke up with an incredulous sneer.

"With what? I've no weapon but my sword and it's currently sheathed in your chest at present," Barbossa said dryly.

"Why should I believe you?" Jack asked with a snort close to amusement though it was clear he still danced on a knife's edge, ready to defend Elizabeth and Norrington should the need arise.

"I was sent here to kill you by a being who knew that you could not be killed. It gave me life to take yours while knowing all along that I couldn't," Barbossa said bitterly.

Jack rolled his eyes. "If you're expecting for me to feel sorry for you Barbossa you're even crazier now than you were when I killed you." Jack yanked Barbossa's sword out of his chest with a grunt and a gasping whimper from Elizabeth before turning his attention back to his dead now alive again former first mate. "What did…this being say to you? Did it tell you why it wanted me dead or did you just accept merrily and rush to the task?"

Barbossa frowned, looking puzzled. "It said to kill you for it. It seemed rather emphatic about it too which doesn't make any sense. It sounded as if it truly wanted you dead and yet it must have played a part in your being cursed again. It doesn't make any sense."

"Unless," Norrington started before catching himself and falling silent.

"Unless what, Norrington? You've something to say, out with it, man," Jack encouraged him.

"Unless there's a reason the…curse wants you dead. Or at least, not of this earth any longer."

"You mean this bloody thing wants my soul," Jack muttered, sounding not at all surprised. "It figures."

"What is it about you that makes you so bloody important?" Barbossa asked with an irritated sneer. "You're nothing special. You're not even Captain Jack Sparrow." At Jack's look, Barbossa went on. "Do you even know who you are anymore, Jack? I know now that you were Pardal and I must admit I'm impressed. There are not many pirates in the sea that can boast Captain John Pardal's manner of cruelty, myself included."

Jack's eyes narrowed. "You know nothing about me, Barbossa. Don't presume to think otherwise."

Barbossa considered for a long moment before acquiescing with a slight nod. "So be it. Well what now, Jack Sparrow? I can't kill you, you can't kill me…this is all seeming a mite familiar," he said wryly. "Shall I aim my pistol at the lovely Miss Swann now for old time's sake?"

"Do that and I'll blow the back of your head off, Barbossa," Norrington interrupted though he clearly was unarmed save his now unsheathed sword. "If it doesn't kill you I'm certain it'll put you into a considerable amount of pain. I can live with that."

"What is it about you, Miss Swann that inspires men to do such foolish acts? I heard your blacksmith was dead. My condolences," he said with a mocking bow. "Though I wonder if his death doesn't have something to do with the curse being back. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you Jack?"

Jack's sword was at Barbossa's threat before either man could blink. "So you do bleed, Barbossa," Jack said coldly when a drip of crimson ran along the sharp blade from where the sensitive skin of Barbossa's neck had split under even the slightest of pressures from Jack's razor-sharp sword. "Tell me. Did the being that brought you back to life make you immortal as clearly I am now? From the looks of things, I gather not. It would seem that you were sent only to be killed again. How considerate. I think I shall enjoy it even more this time."

"Come now, Jack," Barbossa tried, lifting his chin against Jack's blade. He was clearly uncomfortable in that he was able to feel pain again, but he wasn't about to let something as minor as a little pain cloud his mind to the point that he couldn't act to save himself. "There surely must have been some other reason for my return than to be simply killed by you again."

"I for one, hope not. A single death is never enough for mutineers," Jack smirked good-naturedly. He seemed to be enjoying himself. This was enough to give Norrington and Elizabeth pause.

"Maybe we should turn him into the authorities at Port Royal, Jack," Elizabeth suggested gently.

"Port Royal is no doubt overrun by now," Jack said casually. "If I am cursed again then all of my former crew is no doubt cursed again as well. They wouldn't find it hard to escape the city."

"But—but if that's true then we must return to Port Royal at once!" Elizabeth said desperately, thinking of her father.

"The lass is right, Jack," Barbossa spoke up. "My crew is made up of naught but humble pirates as I once told Miss Swann. Without a captain to lead them I'm afraid they may not leave the town standing as they once might have."

"You don't leave towns standing, Barbossa. You desecrate them and leave but one survivor, an innocent, to tell the tale." Jack spoke as if he were reminding Barbossa of a lesson he had forgotten.

"Aye. So you've always taught, Jack. That was your practice when you captained the Hangman's Knuckles as well, wasn't it? Don't bother answering. We both know it was. And how exactly did you gain control of the ship again? Oh I remember the tale now. You killed the captain and those men loyal to him and took control of the ship for yourself. Would one call that mutiny I wonder?" The smile on Barbossa's face as he spoke these words was positively obscene. "Do not speak to me of righteous anger, Jack. You are worse than I ever was. I don't know what changed you those years ago and I don't care but for simple curiosity." It was as if Barbossa was no longer aware of the blade at his neck for he went on speaking. "So what was it, Jack? The love of a good woman?" he asked with a sneer. "Oh forgive me. Jack Sparrow has all women and loves none of them. Did you have a change of heart after witnessing a particularly brutal pillaging? No, that can't have been it. You've led some of the most depraved acts I've ever witnessed in my years as a pirate." There was a wry kind of irony in Barbossa's voice as he said this, almost as if he were both impressed and disgusted at the same time.

"Save your breath unless you care to lose it, Barbossa," Jack hissed, having had enough of the once-dead pirate's speculations as to his past. He didn't know why he had bothered to let the man talk this long without cutting his throat. Perhaps he curious to hear the man guess his reason… He pushed that thought violently aside and turned back to matters at hand. "The only reason you're still alive is because I want to know why you're back in the first place. Betray me, attempt to harm my friends, and you'll wish you'd stayed in hell where you belong. Once you're of no longer use to me I'll be more than obliged to send you back there."

"Let me get this straight, Jack, one has difficulties following your reasoning at times. If I don't cooperate, you'll kill me. If I do cooperate, you'll still kill me," he said dryly. "Not the best of choices."

"If you don't cooperate I'll kill you slower, if that's any incentive towards making your choice," Jack added coldly.

Barbossa pretended to consider it before Jack grew impatient and pressed the blade even harder against the man's neck, causing the drop of blood that had spilt forth earlier to increase to a slow trickle. "Make your choice," Jack hissed.

"It's already made. I'll cooperate," Barbossa said grimly. Jack lowered the blade immediately but did not return it to the sheath at his belt.

"Start talking, Barbossa. What you tell me determines the length of the remainder of your life."

As Barbossa began to speak, Elizabeth moved closer to Norrington's side in silence. Her thoughts were filled with worry for her father and the few friends she had made in Port Royal. As she thought upon them however, her mind kept coming back to the visage of Jack standing before her, promising to kill another man so callously. Certainly Barbossa was a man that deserved to die—again—but not in the manner in which Jack had suggested. Jack's words and tone had taken her back to when he had been possessed by Lorelac, and she was half-checking his eyes to see if they weren't blue. The fact that they remained brown, the fact that Jack was not possessed as he said these things, unsettled her more than if Lorelac had been back. Jack was cursed once more; undead. Did that mean he yet retained his soul? Elizabeth wasn't so sure. And if he didn't have his soul, if he didn't have what she believed to be humanity's conscience still within him, then what kept him from going back to the ways he had obviously known years ago? What had changed him so significantly in the first place? When Barbossa had asked Jack much the same question, she had unconsciously leaned forward to hear Jack's answer. Jack however had brushed off the question easily. Perhaps she would never know the answer. She supposed that it didn't matter. She only hoped that the singular event that had changed Captain John Pardal to the Captain Jack Sparrow she had come to know was potent enough to keep him on the path of good now when it would be hardest to do so.

WWW

Tortuga, 1679

It had taken much time and money, but Richard was convinced he was on the right path at last. He would find Eva's brother and make him answer for himself.

WWW

Port Royal

The port was in flames but it was still standing. The people had been bloodied and battered, but many of them had survived. The pirates had swept through the city and Commodore Groves and his few remaining men had done their best to fight them back. They had killed none yet taken heavy losses themselves. The Commodore yet lived and yet what little he had left to command was devastating. They hadn't defeated the pirates; the pirates had grown tired of them and left. No one was sure where they were going and no one cared. As long as they were gone, the people of Port Royal could breathe. As long as they didn't return, the city would be rebuilt. They had known adversity before and would know it again, but they had always persevered.

Commodore Theodore Groves hadn't died when he had suspected he would, and he was almost saddened at this. He had seen too many good men fall at his sides while he himself had come through the battle with barely a scratch to show for it. The remaining men didn't seem to know whether he was blessed or cursed. He knew he was cursed. There was no other explanation for it. Those who had died defending their city and people were the blessed ones. Those that survived to bury the dead were always cursed.

He took a breath and smoothed his sweaty dark hair from his forehead. He had had a wig during one point of the battle and was unsure when he had lost it, but it didn't matter. This was no time to worry about something as trivial and petty as personal appearance. He had to regroup. They had to go after the pirates and find a way to stop them. Or die trying.

WWW

Rasalom watched the proceedings with amusement. Everything was more or less going exactly as he had planned. He was mildly disappointed—if such a being as him could feel such things as disappointment—that Sparrow hadn't killed Barbossa immediately, but that was no matter. He would make use of this and gain a minion in that fool Lorelac at the same time. Barbossa was within Rasalom's scope of power. That the resurrected pirate had no knowledge of that fact would only make what was to come that much sweeter. Sparrow would be his again and the world would weep.

TBC

A/N: Hm, I once thought that the chapter before this one was going to be the final chapter of this story but it would appear I've got more loose ends than I had originally considered. Next chapter: Richard finds Jack and forces him to explain himself, Elizabeth worries that Jack may being taken over by the curse, Barbossa plays his part, Lorelac gets his turn at power, the cursed pirates roam the seas looking for a captain, and Rasalom manipulates them all.

To my reviewers, I thank you all so very much. Without you, I'd have no incentive to keep my queue, dividing my time between all the stories I'm currently writing equally. You all really keep me focussed. Thank you again.