Sacrifice
by Luvvycat
Chapter 3
Creating Memories
Oh, bugger ... I've killed her! Jack thought in a panic as Maleeka continued to be a dead weight upon his chest. But then, after a few seconds, he felt her own chest fall and rise against his, and realized, with a flood of relief, that she had merely fainted.
He patted her cheek gently. "Maleeka! Maleeka, luv ... Wake up! I'm sorry, luv ... I didn't mean to hurt you! Wake up, darlin'!"
At last, her eyelids fluttered and, with a moan, she lifted her head from his chest. As she turned her face up to his, he could see the pain and confusion in her eyes. Still impaled on him, she tried to move, and moaned again as a fresh wave of pain hit her. He saw tears spring to her eyes.
"Easy, luv ... the worst part is over. I promise." He carefully eased her off of him, causing her to wince slightly as he slid out of her. He grimaced as he looked down at himself, and saw the traces of her blood on his semi-erect flesh. In spite of his best intentions and his most careful efforts, he had still ended up hurting her.
He took her face between his hands and kissed her, over and over. Stroking her damp brow, he captured her eyes with his, and said, with an utter sincerity rare for Jack Sparrow, "You're a brave girl, darlin' ... I want you to know that. A very brave girl!" Encircling her with his arms, he hugged her to his chest.
"Did I please you?" she whispered, her breath teasing his left nipple.
"I can't tell you how much, luv!"
He felt her smile against his chest. "I am glad. It's only ... no one told me it would hurt so much ..."
Of course, they wouldn't tell her something like that! Jack felt an uncustomary pang of conscience. "I'm sorry about that, luv. I never wanted to hurt you ... I tried very hard not to ..."
"It does not matter ... the prophecy is fulfilled, and now the rest is in the hands of the fates ..."
A question occurred to him, something he had been burning to ask. She was so naïve and innocent in some matters, and so knowing and skilled in others where a young girl should not be skilled. "Maleeka ... who taught you how to do ..." he paused and cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable about broaching the subject, "... what you did to me, before?"
She looked him directly in the face, unfazed by the question. "It is the Holy Man's sacred duty to prepare and guide every Chosen One in the ways of the god. It was he who showed me the way of pleasuring a man ... "
Though Jack had been around enough to know not to cast judgement on the strange practices of different cultures -- cannibalism being the one strong exception, of course; he would much prefer to do without the cannibalism -- he nevertheless found himself unreasonably disturbed by Maleeka's words, knowing all too well the base desires that motivated most men. Sacred duty, my arse! Jack thought to himself. The fellow sounds like nothing but a soddin' old pervert, gettin' his jollies 'tutoring' innocent young girls!
Quickly on the heels of that thought, his conscience piped up, Who are you to cast stones, Jacky boy? You're the one that just deflowered the girl ...
Wincing inwardly, Jack told his conscience to sod off ...
"What happens now that the prophecy has been fulfilled?" Jack asked her.
She smiled weakly. "In the morning, when I leave here, I will go to the Holy Man, and he will perform certain rituals and cast the sacred bones. If he determines that I am carrying the god's child, then I will be confined to a hut, with only my mother and the Holy Man attending me, until the child is born."
"And if you haven't conceived?"
"I return to my family, and live out the rest of my days with them."
"Until you marry?"
She cast her eyes down. "No. I can never marry."
Jack was confused. "Why not?"
She looked up and met his eyes, hers serious and a little bit melancholy. "The Chosen One is for the god, and the god alone."
"Even after you have fulfilled your obligation? You mean ..."
She smiled, sadly, and repeated the words she had said earlier that evening. "No man of the tribe is permitted to lie with the Chosen One. Ever."
The enormity of Maleeka's sacrifice hit him then with the shock of a cold wave breaking over him, as he realized all she had given up -- much more than just her virginity, but all the things she would never have in her life.
"You mean ... tonight is to be your first, and your last, time? Tonight is all you'll ever know of a man's touch? For the rest of your life?"
Despite the sadness in her face, she was otherwise calm. "That is what it means to be the Chosen One," she replied, in a tone of total acceptance. "Once she is taken by the god -- once he claims her as his own -- no common man will dare touch her."
He thought what it would be like, to live the rest of his life bereft of human contact -- never to touch a woman's warm flesh, and be touched in return -- never to make love again.
It simply didn't bear contemplation. He would never be able to do it.
For a fleeting moment of total insanity, he considered telling her the truth ... that he was no god -- far from it! -- only a mere mortal, and a scurrilous, plundering, double-damned scallywag pirate at that! But honesty had never been a friend to Jack Sparrow, and he had always found that he paid dearly for any altruistic act. Honesty was what got him mutinied upon and marooned on a desert island by Hector Barbossa nearly eleven years ago, and one act of selfless heroism in saving a certain governor's daughter from drowning had eventually led to his capture and incarceration -- and nearly his death -- in Port Royal.
Besides, Maleeka had already given up so much tonight, and all she had left right now was her belief that she had done what she had done for the sake of her people, and in honour of their god. He had already taken her innocence. He found he could not take her faith from her as well.
But what, then, could he give her? What could he leave her with, besides possibly a bastard child, and the hollow comfort of yet more lies? How could he compensate her for what she had given?
The only thing that occurred to him was paltry payment, indeed, but all he could think to give ...
He stood before her, drawing her up with him, taking both her hands between his. "Maleeka ... my Chosen One. Your faith and devotion humbles me, for I well know how unworthy I am of it." She made as if to protest, but he leaned forward and stifled her words with a gentle kiss. "I can't tell you how much I regret the sacrifice you have had to make, and the ones you will continue to make for the rest of your life, because of me."
He raised her clasped hands to his lips. "But there is something I can do for you, luv, the memories of which, I hope, will sustain you in the dark and lonely days ahead." He released her hands, and stepped back from her, spreading his arms, palms up, as though offering himself to her. "For the rest of this night, Maleeka ... and for what remaining time we have left together, before the daylight comes ..." He shrugged, and gave her a little, self-deprecating grin, "I am for you."
She stared at him a moment in confusion, then her eyes widened in comprehension, and she ran to him, fairly leaping into his outstretched arms.
The first time they had been together, he had only been concerned with arousing her as quickly as possible, and preparing her for her sacrifice ...
The second time, they had both been focused on fulfilling the prophecy and ridding her of her virginity ...
This time, he actually took the time and care to make love to her, knowing it was her last time to experience physical love, and, with the odds of his escaping his fiery fate dwindling hour by hour, most likely his last time as well ...
He sat down on the bed, and drew her onto his lap, cradling her for a moment against his chest. Then Maleeka draped her arms loosely around his neck, and turned her lips up to his in invitation, and he was more than happy to accept the offering ...
Sweet, leisurely kisses gradually turned into soft caresses, feather-light touches, and gentle, unhurried explorations as their hands moved across each other. Not by nature a considerate or giving lover -- a fact which had gotten his face slapped on many an occasion, by very many women -- Jack nevertheless made an effort this time to savour each moment, prolong each sensation, draw out each source of pleasure he could, to his delight as well as Maleeka's.
When he entered her for the second time that night, Maleeka tightened with the residual ache of her torn maidenhead, but as he started moving within her with slow, careful strokes, she relaxed, her hands travelling down his back, over the breadth of his shoulders, the small of his waist, to rest on his hips as they rose and fell against her.
They undulated together, he leading her, she rising up to meet him, until they moved as one, two well-matched dancers flowing in perfect time to the same rhythm. His clever hands played her like a master musician, his deft fingers plucking the strings of her passion, her body responding to his expert touch, until both player and instrument reached their crescendo in unison, their low moans of desire and soft cries of rapture filling the air like the sweetest of music ...
And then they collapsed into each other's arms, and started the dance all over again ...
Jack and Maleeka made love until the dawn started lightening the sky, and it was time for her to go.
They were both silent as Maleeka left Jack's arms and rose from his bed, to reclaim and re-don her meagre bits of clothing. His dark, glittering eyes watched her as she prepared to leave, appreciating the easy grace of her movements, the flexing of her muscles as she arched her back and reached behind her to retie her bandeau, then bent to retrieve her discarded skirt from the floor. She was no longer the shy, hesitant, desperate child who had walked into his hut the previous night, and he was both somewhat proud as well as a little bit regretful about the role he had played in bringing about that change in her.
He knew he did not love her, nor she him, but he had done the best he could by her. He hoped it was enough ...
He also knew that, after tomorrow, he likely would never see her again -- either because he had gone to the roasting spit and was no more, or else because he had escaped his fate and left the island, in which case he intended never to return again.
She moved toward the door, and he thought for a moment that she would leave without saying a word to him. But then she hesitated, and turned ...
She ran back to him, pressed something into his hand, then pulled his face to hers and kissed him soundly. "I will never forget you, Esteemed One," she whispered against his lips as the kiss ended, touching his face one last time, her chocolate eyes peering into his. On a whim, he kissed the tip of her nose, smiled his crooked smile, and winked at her. And then she was gone, the swaying of the curtain at the door and the lingering scent of her in the air the only indication that she had ever been there.
He uncurled his fingers and looked down at what she had given him. In the centre of his palm lay a human tooth attached to a thin hook-shaped sliver of bone -- one of the earrings she had been wearing the previous night.
Something glinted in the firelight, a brief flash of quicksilver in his palm, and he looked more closely at the earring. Picking it up by its hook and dangling it before his eyes, he noticed that the tooth was set with a diamond stud.
He thought back to a captain who had used to frequent the bars in Tortuga, regaling everyone with strange tales of his adventures at sea -- a slaver by the name of Murgatroyd who had plied the African coast. As he recalled, the man's most distinguishing feature had been that one of his front teeth had been inset with a chip of diamond -- a souvenir, as he told it, of a skirmish with a bloodthirsty band of South African diamond smugglers.
It suddenly occurred to him that it had been quite a while since he, or anyone on Tortuga for that matter, had seen the fellow, or any of his crew. The prevailing opinion was that he had run afoul of the authorities, and had gone into hiding.
Eyeing the spangled earbob, Jack suspected he now knew the real reason for the old slaver's sudden and strange disappearance ...
Well, Murgatroyd, old mate, he thought, Unless a miracle happens and I find a way out of this mess, I suppose I'll be seeing you very soon ...
Then, quickly on the heels of that thought:
I do hope there's rum in the afterlife ...
Taking the macabre earbob, he threaded it into one of his braids -- yet another token among the many already hanging from his tangled locks, then turned his mind back again to formulating a plan of escape ...