Demon Called Deception
Chapter Eleven: A History
Emory sat quietly on her bed, her breath coming in short ragged gasps. Her hands were pressed against her eyes, her head throbbing. The banshee wail still echoed in her ears; the anger and pain still coursing through her body. The name echoed in her mind though she did not know why. She had never heard of this person, this Skinner. And she wasn't sure why he invoked such fear in her.
Never before in her life had she felt such fear. Not even when she was alone on the streets of Tortuga.
A hand touched her shoulder lightly, causing her to jump and pull away. Her off colored eyes flew open, meeting the eyes of the person that had touched her. Relief flooded her as she caught Tristan's gaze. Realization struck her and she pushed her relief away, attempting to replace it with anger or bitterness.
"What are you doing here?" Emory snapped.
Tristan's eyes betrayed his worry even though his face remained calm. "You screamed," he stated simply.
Emory rubbed her eyes and then flinched when she felt his fingers touch her left cheek.
"You were dreaming," he muttered, his worried eyes gazing into hers. "I can see it in your eyes, in your face. You were having a nightmare."
"Yer observant," she muttered.
"Why did you scream? Was it that bad?"
"Why should I tell you Connors?"
"You have me worried Wyatt," he replied.
Emory laughed bitterly. "I'm sure ya are. Just as ya were two years ago when ya shot me. No, Tristan. I'm not gonna trust you again. I'm not gonna let ya get close. You'll only betr . . ."
Emory was cut off by a soft kiss. It wasn't a rough kiss, like the one he had given her a little over a week ago, but it was full of all of his passion nonetheless. Tristan's hand still cupped her cheek, his other hand running through her hair.
He pulled away slightly, resting his forehead on hers, his brown hair falling against her skin.
"I won't do this again," she whispered.
"I'm not asking you to," he replied. "It was the only way I could think of to get you to shut up."
Emory did not reply at first, her eyes locking on his. "Tell me, Tristan, have you ever felt death?"
Tristan pulled away, confused. He was not sure how to reply. "What do you mean?"
"Have you ever felt death? Have you ever felt His cold hands grip you and refuse to let go?"
Tristan was silent, contemplating her words. Finally he shook his head. "No. But I've been close to people who have died."
"Then you could never understand my dream, my nightmare. It was the same as in Port Royal when I saw that ship," she shuddered. "The scream an' the overwhelming sense of death and anger."
She sighed, her hand unconsciously going to the chain hanging around her neck, playing with it between her fingers. Tristan's eyes narrowed as he watched her.
Quickly, he pulled the ring from her grasp, holding it in the palm of his hand.
"Where did you get this?"
Emory pulled back. "From Sparrow. 'E gave me this along with a book . . ." she trailed off, her eyes losing focus. "The book. Damn."
Tristan stared at her, confused, as she jumped up from her bed and walked quickly to her desk, opening the box and pulling out an old, tattered book. Emory plopped down into her high-backed chair, flipping open the ancient cover.
Tristan watched as her eyes flicked over the words of the book. "You said yer tied ta the bloody map too, correct?"
Tristan's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Aye."
"Then listen," she replied and then began to read.
'A History:
Thesaurus Peritorum
Legends tell of an island lost in Time; an island that has been all but forgotten in the space of mere centuries. Some believe that the island never existed; that perhaps it was merely a story told to little children. But that was not the case. The island itself had merely become Lost.
The inhabitants of this Insula Peritorum, or Island of the Lost, had been acolytes of the Greek God Chronos, the Titan of Time. He bestowed upon them the ultimate gift. A gift that if misused could alter reality itself. He gave them the gift of Time itself in the form of a simple silver band.
It is said that for hundreds of years the Lost lived in peace, the King ruling with the power of Time at his side. The gift was used only in dire times; never used for one's personal gain. Until, that is, a man known only as Titus overthrew the King, taking the gift for himself.
Titus used the gift Chronos gave them to make himself an absolute ruler. It is said that he attempted to change Time itself, attempted to alter History to where he himself could become a God.
The islanders, fearing the wrath of Chronos, rose up against Titus in a war that is said to have waged for forty years. The war did not end until a woman who had come to be known as Prisis tricked Titus into using the gift on himself, making him believe that it would make him stronger; more powerful than before. But Time can be a fickle friend.
This gift of Time became a curse for Titus, destroying him; leaving no trace of him but the thin silver band of Time.
This History tells of how the people of the Insula Peritorum hid the gift away in a place where it could never be found. They placed a heavy burden on Prisis, she being the one who was able to save them all. They forced her to become the Guardian of the Lost, branding a magic-laden map across her back.
Prisis' lover was blinded, since he had been with the Elders as they buried the Thesaurus Peritorum, making sure that neither he nor Prisis could ever find their way to wherever it had been hidden. He was then made her Protector, a man who would defend her from any harm. Her lover's senses had been heightened from his warrior training throughout his life, giving him the uncanny ability to be able to sense an attack before it happened. They were then exiled, sent off to live in a world that had not been visited in over three centuries.
Days after Prisis was exiled, the island disappeared, becoming forever lost in Time.'
Emory stopped reading, her eyes scanning the hand-written words. Tristan waited silently as she skimmed the words, waiting for her to continue.
Finally he stood up and walked over to her. He placed his hands on the wooden desk, staring down at her. "Is that it?" he asked.
Emory did not look up. "No. Listen."
'In my travels to find any clues to the location of this Lost Island, of these lost people, I stumbled upon a small village on the outskirts of an old Greek ruin. The villagers told me that at one time it had been a temple for the God Chronos.
Inside the temple I found the most peculiar of writings. It was a prophecy of sorts, written in a form of archaic Greek that I had not seen before. For months I studied the writing with the help of the local villagers, and with the help of my own knowledge of the Greek language.
When I began to believe that there was no hope in ever deciphering the prophecy, I finally had a breakthrough.
The letters seemed to have been written in a form of Greek that pre-dated even the archaic version that I knew. When I deciphered the text, I was able to read the following message:
Mother hear,
The father dies,
Revealing Life's enemy.
He brings you fear, he brings you pain.
To find what has been Lost,
His blood will mix with Time.
Mother find,
Your Protector of blood,
Your Life's love.
The ancient arrival of betrothal.
Watch for the sparrow,
For it shall reveal the missing link of Past and Future.
Mother be warned,
For unknown pains approach.
What once was one shall split in two,
Dividing the blood of old.
The treasure Lost will not be found,
Until the Key is born.
Two children born,
Of blood divide.
One born to bear witness,
To the rising of the Past.
One born to bear the Key,
Hidden in the blood of old, and unseen eyes.
Child be warned,
For treason lingers.
The eyes of fate have fallen on you.
The line has broken,
Your equal is taken.
The Missing has called.
Child listen,
Your Protector nears,
The Key is born in you.
Your mothers enemy,
Now becomes your own.
A bird in flight will fall.
Child take heed,
For Time will still.
Your blood and key will set in motion,
The Prophecy of Ages.
The Treasure Lost shall now be found,
And held by your own hands.
But be warned you both,
For the enemy is near.
He holds the Treasure with bated breath.
Your loss shall be his gain.
For if you miss this enigma,
Time will all but stop.
I found this message confusing at first until I translated the last word at the end. It simply read: 'Prisis'. I could not believe my luck! I had found a prophecy written in Prisis' own hand. I had discovered the last words written in a language that had not been used in hundreds of years.
While I still could not fully understand the prophecy, I could only believe that it had something to do with the legends of the Insula Peritorum. Perhaps Prisis had been trying to warn of when the Thesaurus Peritorum would be found again. But I cannot be sure.
When I spoke later with the village elders, I learned more about the history of this Lost Island and of Prisis and her lover. It is said that they bore only one child; a daughter. Prisis was said to have died in childbirth; passing on the mark to her daughter.
This, I was told, occurred for several generations until one year the young girl bearing the map disappeared, leaving for parts unknown.'
Emory stopped again, shutting the book slowly. Finally she looked up at Tristan, her eyes confused.
"I don't understand," she said. "What the hell is this supposed ta mean?"
Tristan shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? I'm just as confused as you are."
Emory's eyes met his as a thought crossed both of their minds.
"Sparrow."
"Do we have an agreement then, Captain Skinner?"
Skinner looked up, one eye twitching slightly. "Tell me again what's in it fer you?"
The stranger smiled and shrugged. "Nothing but a chance to get back at the bloodline that destroyed me. You may have mere revenge on your mind Captain, but I have some history to change."
"Why should I trust ya when I don't even know yer name?"
The man's smile widened. "You don't need to Captain," he replied, his green eyes twinkling. "All you need to know is that her blood calls to me as well. She can help us both. We can finally attain what we both desire. This blood, this sparrow, will finally be the key to our salvation."
"I have thought about your question Mrs. Turner," Thomas Norrington started. He sat down in the chair she offered and sighed, a heavy sigh from someone with a lot on his mind.
"And your answer, Mr. Norrington?" Elizabeth asked, sitting down in a chair across from him.
Thomas did not reply at first, his eyes staring blankly out a window at the ocean. When he did answer it was with great sorrow. "I know that the blood of a pirate runs through her veins and that her father and mother were both enemies of the Royal Navy, but I cannot stop thinking about her. I do not care what others would think, I love her and I always will," he paused, his eyes meeting Elizabeth's. "I plan to be right here waiting for her to return Mrs. Turner. I do not plan on going anywhere."
Elizabeth stared over at him, her brown eyes revealing nothing. Finally she smiled. "I am happy to hear you say that, Mr. Norrington. You have no idea how much it pained me to believe that you would leave her because of her heritage." She reached over and took his hand in hers, squeezing gently. "Your father was a good man Thomas, and so are you."
Thomas smiled. "Thank you, Mrs. Turner; I am grateful to you for saying so. But now I must leave you, I have a meeting with Commodore Thomson early in the morning. Please offer my regards to your daughter and nephew."
Elizabeth stood up and walked him to the door. "Thank you, I shall. I appreciate you stopping by. You have taken a great weight from my shoulders. Have a good day, Mr. Norrington, I hope tomorrow finds you well."
Thomas merely smiled and walked slowly away.
Jack sat silently in his cabin, Will sitting across from him, his expression worried.
"Are you alright Jack?" Will asked. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."
Jack gave a harsh laugh, his eyes finding their way to Will's. "Perhaps I have lad."
"What do you mean?" Will replied. Jack didn't answer. "Jack what is it?"
Jack sighed. "I know who took Rebecca," he said hesitantly. "But yer not gonna like it."
Will's back stiffened slightly at Jack's words. "Who is it?"
"Skinner."
Will's eyes narrowed slightly. "How is that possible? Lor killed him over twenty years ago. I was there Jack, I saw her kill him."
"I don't know how he's alive, but he is," Jack answered, shrugging. "I can feel it. Somehow he is back. I'm more concerned with why he's back more than I am of how he came back."
"Have you told Emory yet?"
Jack stood up. "No. I was goin' to at dawn before we head out." He headed towards the door, pulling on his favorite tri-corned hat. "No need ta wake 'er up now. I only saw 'er a few hours ago anyway."
"Did you know who it was then?" Will asked, standing up and following him.
"No. It sorta . . . came ta me," Jack answered, throwing open his door.
Both men stopped when they heard a dull thud and then a crash, followed by laughter and a stream of curses that should never be uttered.
Jack peered out of his door just in time to see Emory sitting on the deck, one hand holding on to her forehead, the other hand smacking away Tristan's outstretched arm. Tristan had stopped laughing but a wide smile still lit his face.
"Ya alright lass?" Jack asked, reaching out to help her up.
Emory glared at him, one hand still rubbing her head. "I'm fine," she snapped, climbing to her feet slowly.
She wobbled for a moment but quickly regained her balance, grabbing hold of the door.
"Yeah, you look fine," Tristan responded.
"Maybe you should sit down love," Jack said, taking her by the arm and leading her slowly into the cabin. He sat her down in one of the chairs, taking her hand away and staring down at the black bruise already forming there.
His thumb brushed the bruise slightly and then pulled back when she flinched. "Yer gonna have a hell of a headache, but ye'll be alright."
"Thank you fer that observation," Emory replied sarcastically. "We need ta talk Sparrow."
Jack raised one eyebrow, staring down at her quizzically. "'Bout what?"
"Skinner."
Rebecca sat hunched over on the hard cot, her red eyes staring blankly at the cabin floor. She had found that she had no more tears to cry. She had no more tears for pain, or sorrow, or even for hope. It had been too long since she had been taken from her home and she could not shed another tear for her situation.
Rebecca could only pray that her captor, the captain of this horrible ship, would stay away from her for as long as possible. No matter how many times he beat her or questioned her, Rebecca refused to give him anymore satisfaction in seeing her cry.
She buried her head into her skirt, offering one more time a prayer asking for someone to come and save her.
"So you know where to go, right?" he asked.
"How will they get there?"
He smirked. "I shall lead them, just as I have done before. You must be there first or else none of our plans will work."
Skinner looked at him skeptically. "Why are we going there again?"
"Because, my dear Captain, that is where it all ended," he paused, "and where it will all begin again."
AN: Wow. I thought that it would take a lot longer to write this chapter. But seeing as I've been writing the book pages and the prophecy for over a month now, it all came pretty easily. I hope you all enjoyed it! Hope I didn't leave you hanging!
The DuTchess of Doom: I'm sorry. I don't mean to drain your inspiration for your own story. I was never sure about the dream when I wrote it. It bothered me for some reason. I really couldn't figure out how to write it the right way. And I have to say, I think that you're the only one that reads the chapters more than once, except for me of course. I have to re-read them so that I can figure out what I wrote last time! Hope you enjoyed! And the man with the tri-corned hat in the one shot was Jack. The man she was watching in the beginning, the one walking around the tables, was Tristan.
Obsetress: Yeah. A lot of people had actually guessed that it was Skinner, but others hadn't. But, I just like to throw stuff in! And you'll just have to wait and see what happens between Tristan and Emory! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
Dawnie-7: I'm glad that you liked the dream. I think that was everyone's favorite part which happens to be the one part that I wasn't 100 percent sure about. Glad you're enjoying!
Kantgetdizgrl: The first part will be explained more later. Basically, I was just kind of introducing a second bad guy. I haven't figured out who he is yet, though. You guys will be the first to know when I find out! And "a sparrow will hold the key"? I have been saying that line since the second story. And not a single person has asked me about it until now. It really ties into the prophecy. And the items you learned about pretty much in this chapter. Except the ring was in the first story, Sui Generis. If you haven't read it, you may want to; it will help you out a lot since I'm going to talk about it a lot in this story. Hope you continue to enjoy!
Arein: Yes, I find it incredibly amusing that you seem to like to ask questions that I can't answer. This is technically another one. I really can't reveal if they find the treasure or not, nor can I say if they stay cursed forever. I hope you liked the update!