AURUM

. a curse reborn .

- chapter 5 -

A/N: Okay, before I continue, let me just explain that this story takes place not too long after the first movie. The second movie hasn't happened yet. Just saying this to avoid confusion.

The captain refused to bring the boat up to the dock. At the time, Myra couldn't understand why, though in just a few minutes she would be entirely sympathetic. If she were captain of a ship, she wouldn't association with a place like this either. Unfortunately, Myra was to realize this in a most difficult and unpleasant way.

Several men hesitantly offered to take a longboat and row their departing company safely to the shore, and Myra had no choice but to accept. The short trip to the docks was a painfully awkward one. She couldn't quite determine exactly what was passing through the men's thoughts, but something told her they were eager to get rid of this odd young woman who'd appeared on their ship out of thin air. In all honesty, she couldn't quite blame them. If some random person dropped in her house out of nowhere and took her clothes, she'd be a little weirded out, too.

The rowboat finally pulled up alongside the wooden dock. Myra gave the men a polite 'thank you,' a quick 'good-bye' and stepped out of the boat.

Taking her first steps onto solid ground made her feel like a toddler just learning to walk. After a full day on a ship, an experience she'd never before had to endure, she no longer had the same 'land legs' that she used to. Myra stumbled and tripped for several minutes before she was able to walk without wobbling all over the place as though she were drunk. She walked along for some time and soon noticed that many other people were walking in that wobbly fashion. Well, that was because they actually were drunk.

Myra always thought first impressions were important. So as far as first impressions go, Tortuga made an awful one. Everything around here was just so. . . Disgusting. There wasn't a single man around her that didn't have a rum bottle in his hand or a woman on his lap. Next time, she told herself, when you say 'nearest port' be sure they understand that Tortuga doesn't count. This place, Myra decided, is Hell.

While carefully making her way down the chaotic streets of the town, Myra received many odd looks, which she could almost understand. She was dressed in a man's clothes, and ones that were quite a bit large for her. Odd looks were expected. Of course, that wasn't to say she didn't mind them. Myra hated to be stared at, and too many times she thought some of the men's eyes were wandering towards the wrong places. Luckily many were too drunk or too occupied with other women to pay her much mind. Once or twice, however, some particularly daring men had grabbed hold of her hand or sleeve, talking to her as though she were just another prostitue ready to give herself away. After some struggling she'd been able to push them away, sending them off in search of more willing prey.

And so Myra went along her way, minding her own business, trying her hardest not to look too repulsed by what she saw. Before long her mind began to wander, once more trying to answer those questions. Why was she here? How did she get here? Then a new question wriggled its way through her thoughts: Would she ever get home? Now that opened a whole new can of worms, dredging up such questions as 'How can I get home?', 'When will I get home?', and 'Am I stuck here forever?'

Caught up in her endless abyss of unanswerable questions, she no longer was paying attention to where she was going. Within seconds Myra found herself sprawled painfully on the ground, the breath knocked out of her, and the world spinning and whirling beneath her. She let out a muffled groan as she struggled to her feet, only toppling over once more. A hand was put to her head, which now ached terribly, and she tried to figure out exactly what had just happened. A few moments' inspection revealed the situation, not to mention her utter stupidity. Sitting beside her was a bedraggled, scruffy looking man. He wore fancy looking clothes, like the ones she saw those three men wearing the night before, but the coat's deep navy hue was dirtied and faded, his shirt stained and torn. His hair was long, and though some was tied back out of his face much of it hung in limp, greasy strands over his cheeks. A stubble of a beard was visible on his chin and the sides of his face, adding to his dirty, grimy look. He stared at her with sad, hollow, unblinking eyes, as though he were looking through her rather than at her.

"Are you alright?" the man inquired politely, though he didn't seem to be overly concerned. Still, he was kind enough to make sure a girl who had just tripped over him wasn't hurt.

Myra gave a weak nod, though she felt on the brink of tears. But this was not at all out of pain. After everything she'd been through in the past twenty-four hours, this was not what she needed. Any minute now she feared she would burst out in hysterics, completely and utterly overwhelmed by everything. But, thankfully, she kept her composure for the most part.

"Yes," she finally replied once she felt sure she would not simply start crying. This answer seemed to satisfy the man, who looked away, saying nothing more. But Myra would not let him get away that easily, oh, no. She needed help, and this was her very first opportunity to get any. At least the kind of help she needed.

"Please," she said, sounding almost frantic as she fumbled with the chain around her neck, "could you tell me anything about this?" Myra showed the man what was hanging from the chain, practically shoving the medallion in his face. He took a long look at it, his eyes widening as something in the back of his mind seemed to snap into place. But the surprised expression, as quickly as it had come, disappeared just as fast. He turned away once again, giving her a simple "No" as his answer.

Myra could feel her heart sink right down to her toes. She hesitated for a moment, then decided that she wasn't going to give up just yet. She needed answers, and she was going to get them in whatever way she could.

"Then do you know of anyone who can?" Myra stared at him with wide, pleading eyes, silently begging him to at least try and point her in one direction or another. If she had at the very least a general idea of where to start she wouldn't feel so helplessly lost. The man gave an annoyed sigh before lifting his hand and pointing down the road.

"There's a pub over there. You should find the help you're looking for."

"But how will I --"

"Oh, don't worry. He'll find you."

- x - x - x -

From outside Myra could hear a great deal of commotion coming from inside the crowded bar, but when she opened the door the chaos was nearly overwhelming. From every corner of the room came shouts and yells and wild laughter; People were swaggering and swaying all over the place, dizzied with excitement and liquor. Myra meandered through the crowded pub, every so often being knocked into by some stumbling drunk. One such person bumped into her so roughly that she was sent flying sideways. She tried very hard to keep her balance, but merely tripped over her own feet and went tumbling backwards, tumbling straight into another man's arms. Apparently he'd seen Myra lose her balance and kindly steadied her. At least she hoped it was a kindly gesture. Had another man stepped forward to help her, his intentions may not have been so innocent as just wanting to help her back to her feet. Yet however well the action was meant, Myra was not comfortable with someone putting his hands on her. She quickly pulled herself away, turning to see who it was that come to her aid.

She hadn't meant to stare. Really. She just didn't know what else to do. The man just stood there, looking at her with an odd, crooked sort of grin, one Myra wasn't quite sure she trusted but one she found just. . . Irresistable? She wasn't quite sure what the feeling was, but something said to Myra that this man was important to her, important to finding those answers she so desperately needed. She didn't, however, understand just how he'd be able to help her. He had a rough sort of look, a feeling about him that you weren't fully sure you could trust. But his eyes coaxed you into trusting him, no matter how you tried to resist. His hair fell down past his shoulders, some pieces beaded or braided, and wrapped around this head was a dirty red bandana. Over this was an old three-cornered hat, which rested at a lopsided angle over his eyes. A dark coat covered most of him, falling down past his knees. With his odd clothing and odd expression, Myra at once told herself that she was not to put any faith in him, that she should turn around right there and not look back. But then came the inescapable thought that maybe this is who she was looking for. Could he be? It didn't seem very likely, although she had to admit it was quite possible. She continued to stare, unable to make up her mind, looking at him with uncertainty.

"Just thought you were needing a bit of help, love." The smirk didn't once leave his face. Myra blinked once or twice, making sure he wasn't going to try anything he shouldn't. When he stayed as he was, Myra snatched this golden opportunity she was presented. She only hoped that this was the right man.

"Yes. I, um. . ." She hesitated. And what if this wasn't him? Wasn't who she was looking for? Well, it didn't really matter, did it? If he didn't turn out to be who Myra hoped he was, then he'd be someone she could cross off her list so she could continue on her way. "Please, what can you tell me about this?"

Myra took the medallion from around her neck, holding out to him in her palms. He looked at the necklace for a long moment, his face twisted with shock, confusion, and other feelings that she couldn't quite place. When the man at last looked back up at her, he merely shook his head.

"There is nothing to tell." But oh, there was. His expression told her what she wanted to know: He was just the person Myra was looking for.

The man turned to walk away, but Myra wasn't giving up, not now. She felt closer to those answers than ever, and this was the man who was going to help her find them. She reached out and took his sleeve in her hand, giving it an urgent tug.

"Don't tell me that! You know what this is," she said, no longer caring about making a fool of herself as she held the necklace in front of his face, "and you're going to tell me what I need to know."

At this, he turned around to face her once more. Myra loosened her grip on his coat sleeve, letting her hand fall down beside her. He looked at her, his eyes staring straight into her own, threatening and dangerous.

"And what makes you think," he practically whispered, taking a few steps towards Myra, "that I can help you?"

"I don't think you can help me." Myra stared right back at him with confidence she never knew she had. "I know you can."

He took another good look at her, probably wondering if she really was worth helping. Was she? Well, why wouldn't she be? Don't kid yourself, Myra, she thought bitterly. You're just a girl, just a nobody asking a perfect stranger for his help.

"I'll tell you what you need to know." So he was giving in? Myra felt a burst of triumphance confidence rush through her. "But after that you're on your own. Are we clear?"

Myra couldn't help the smirk the tugged at her lips. "Absolutely."

A/N: I'm not sure what I think of this chapter. I just hope that it all makes sense. And I hope you've all been able to guess who it was that Myra found. ;)