Chapter 43 Dead men and silent ladies

The light was bright, sulphur yellow and neon orange to begin with, changing to red then green on an apparent whim. But Elanor didn't think there was anything random about it all, nor did she think the light was natural. Down below them something very planned and purposeful was happening and the light was merely a by product.

She and Jack had ventured onto the top of the crucible itself, peering down through its diamond cap to watch the water rising almost stealthily but with great speed. Below them the lights shifted and flickered in unpredictable patters as the level rose, sending strange shadows across the crucible and their faces. Other than that there had been nothing to see.

As the crucible had started to fill so the air around it seemed to get even warmer, yet the surface of the tubes beneath them had started to get colder. With a warning look at each other they had turned and returned to the mezzanine, they could only hope that it offered sufficient protection from whatever was about to happen.

But not before they had caught sight of something both intriguing and depressing. On the far side of the mezzanine there was an alcove in the rock wall and as the light rose and dipped it threw shadows across what looked to be human bone.

When they arrived back on the floor they both turned in that direction without a word.

The distance was not far but it was a longer walk than was comfortable, Elanor felt the hot air scalding her lungs and the hiss and thud of her own blood in her ears drowned out the sound of the rising waters. Twice she tripped and nearly fell as her feet seemed unable to remember the requirements of walking. Jack was obviously exhausted now and though he had drawn his pistol he kept one hand on the wall as they felt their way around the mezzanine. Even so he stumbled every other step or so and in the bright light it was clear that he was shaking. Knowing better than to offer help she pretended not to see, some part of her mind reminding her she might yet need all of her remaining strength to get out of here, assuming that was even an option.

The alcove they had seen was open to the rest of the floor, and to the side of one of those tubes. Elanor found herself wondering if there were more alcoves hidden from them, perhaps one beside each of the plates.

This one was ten or so feet long and about seven feet front to back. The rock seemed to magnify the light around them so that it took her a moment or two to realise that the alcove itself was not lit. Most of the space was taken up by a platform, roughly waist height and about eight feet in length and four feet wide, it was smooth and matt and along its edges were lines of small holes. Jack peered at them in apparent concern,
"Don't like the look of those." He stepped back, "saw something like that on an altar once, pictures made it very clear what they were for. Not nice, not nice at all." His mouth twisted in disgust, " they call pirates cruel and barbaric and yet half the gods worshipped by humanity, and their priests, have us well beat on that. At least most of us"
He turned and nodded at her,
"Fair bit of the law too. Can do some very nasty things in the name of the king, they can."
Elanor sighed,
"Can't blame the gods for that though, their followers have only got the priests words about what is wanted. No saying that it is what the god wants, and short of a visitation how is it supposed to tell anyone otherwise? The law on the other hand.." she shrugged, for she'd done enough history to know there were somethings in her own people's past that didn't bear too close examination, a few of them from her time and place too.

She bent closer to the surface,
"But I don't think these are for blood Jack, there are no grooves to collect it."
Jack frowned at the offending slab and ran a wary finger over the lines of holes,
"Then what are they for?"
"Don't know. Decoration maybe."
"And is that a part of the decoration too?"
He indicated the skeleton with a nod of his head, the remark being accompanied by a shudder.
"No. I'd say it's a later addition." Elanor said dryly, then sighed again, "though there is no way of knowing how long it takes for things to decay here."
He gave her a reproving look and then drew a deep breath before reaching out a careful hand to brush the dull grey fabric of the jacket away from its chest,
"Strange," he said quietly, his squeamishness of a moment ago apparently forgotten, "flesh decayed yet this is whole."

He was proved right for the fabric neither tore nor fell to dust and when Elanor brushed the sleeve it felt as if it were new. Which judging by the state of its owner it most certainly wasn't.
"Fountain of youth the compass says and yet all we have seen is death." Jack said slowly.
"Well the map wasn't clear Jack, maybe youth isn't guaranteed. Or maybe what it gives to one it takes from another."
He nodded slowly and stared at the body again.
"Looks like he just laid down and went to sleep. Got no weapons neither."
"I'd noticed. Maybe this is whoever accounted for those others we saw, got injured and lay down here to die."
"No blood." Jack said succinctly. "Why ever he lay down he weren't bleeding when he did it."
"Ah, true. So not a fight. But you're right whoever it was arranged themselves quite neatly. Starvation maybe then."
"Or this." Jack's voice was bleak as he raised his arm to the light.
"Mmm. Or that."

There was silence for a moment then Jack drew himself up to his full height,
"Well I'm not waiting around for that. There must be a way out of this place. Time for us to find it I think."
With that he backed out of the niche and strode off along the mezzanine.

Elanor cast one more puzzled glance around her and followed him.

***

The look out saw the navy at first light and sent everyone to stations. Yet no one expected to make a fight of it, for there was no one to issue orders and as soon as one did someone else countermanded them. It reminded Marty of that first day out of the locker when Barbossa and Jack Sparrow had struggled for control, though Jack had seemed to weary first leaving Barbossa and Turner to snipe at each other while he sat staring with far away eyes at that chart. But then they had the problem of too many captains, now they had an absence of one at all.

Pintel would have tried for it if he had thought he had any chance of succeeding, but the rest of the crew, other than Raggetti, had made it clear that had no intention of following anyone else who had been damned. Not that it would have helped them had they been willing for the man had no more idea how to manage a ship than he could fly.

Many looked to Marty for the line to take but he was not sure that it were a role that he wanted, not given what tended to happen to the Black Pearl's captains. Cotton remained as helmsman but even his parrot was noticeably silent on the course to take. They watched the approaching ship with trepidation, it was smallish by navy standards but quick.
"What do we do now?" Murtogg had crept up behind Marty unseen, his friend close on his heels.
"You know how ta command a sea battle?" Marty asked with a sharp look,
"Can't say that I do."
"No mores does anyone else, though we've all fought a few of them. Crew takes orders and captain gives then and does the worritting. Wit no captain ta speak of..." he let the words trail off and shrugged.
"Doesn't anyone know what to do?" Mullroy asked.
"Tat's what ah just said. Barbossa would know if ye can wake him. Could try I suppose, though no one else has managed. Nat even tat monkey."

They all stared at the ship behind them, no closer than she had been but no further away either.
"She's not gaining." Murtogg said eventually,
"Ay but we're nat loosing her neither and we don't know where we be goin'.
"So what do we do?" Raggetti, closely followed by Pintel had joined them at the rail. "She'll hound us until we run out of water or hit rocks."
"We're the faster." Pintel stated.
"Aye but where does that get us? With no course and no captain all she has to do is sit on our tail until the weather turns agin us." Raggetti's tone told them all he was intending to squabble.
Marty rolled his eyes and turned to Murtog,
"Get the men up from below, even them sleepin', without a captain we need all to be agreed."

In the end, with the wind full stern and the canvas stretched as if to fly, the crew managed to agree to run, as if that wasn't what they were already doing.

***

They had walked the mezzanine twice, inspected each wall for means of escape and found none, not even any way back to the level that come up from. The slab that had brought them up refused to take them down again and they found no stairs or ramps that gave them a way back. Jack had ventured out to the crucible once again but seen nothing there that they hadn't already seen and had returned with no more idea of what to do than he had when before he went. Elanor had occupied herself with investigating the patterns of crystals that scattered the walls even up here, but though she had a sense of what they might be she could not read them and had no idea how they might be used to help

The compass seemed convinced now, pointing steadily at the crucible, but that certainty had come to late and told them too little to be of use. As Jack said the bloody thing pointing at what he wanted most was not nuch use if he couldn't get at it. He shook it a couple of times in resigned annoyance but didn't seem to have the heart left to do anything more.

This was the closest she had ever seen him come to despair.

All the time the sound of water rising continued and the lights changed colour in apparently random ways. The air seemed thicker now, and harder to breath, and the light was so bright at times that it hurt their eyes. By unspoken agreement they avoided the alcove, the one place were they might sit, and instead returned to the slab that had brought them up, collapsed back against the wall and waited for whatever was to come.

Elanor could feel her strength slipping away. Her skin was now red and raw, the raised wounds, if that was what they were, pulsing with her heart beat; worse still her joints felt stiff and rusty while her bones seemed ready to crumble if she made too much effort. Behind her closed eyes her thoughts were chaotic, memories and feelings from past and present chasing themselves in circles until she wasn't sure what she was thinking or feeling. Death could not be far away her rational mind warned and yet some strange and defiant spark told her that life was not done with her yet. Not with her and not with Jack.

Jack, the pirate at her shoulder who had brought her here in a last ditch attempt to escape the demons that haunted him. They did haunt him too, she had heard his night time ravings though she had never mentioned them to him. She could not blame him, for the possibility of an eternity of punishment without escape or chance of redemption was too terrible to think of. She had never believed in the common conception of hell, unable to see why an omnipotent god would need such a thing, but she could well believe that a malicious and bitter man might well construct one. Nor could she offer Jack any hope that it wasn't waiting for him if he died at sea, couldn't offer him any possible alternative if he didn't. Yet he had seen the souls making their way to another world so presumably another world did await him. Could she assume the same?

Or had something else entirely brought him here? With piracy as he had known it fading into history what remained for the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow? What remained for just Jack. If he couldn't be a pirate then an adventurer seemed likely to appeal to him most. He had seen too much to settle down to being a lawful sailor. Not that it seemed likely to matter now, they weren't going anywhere. She opened her eyes long enough to look across at her companion, his skin was starting to crack in places and his breathing was laboured, at this rate it seemed likely that she would out last him and she had no desire to do that. Perhaps now was the time for that pistol. Yet she could not find it in herself to speak the words and in weary resignation she closed her eyes again, admitting to herself that it seemed unlikely that their death would be lingering.

***

The lights flickered blue and silver again, their spark reflected in the sheen of the silver and gold gown of the Lady. Silent and still she observed the pattern of light change before moving to the top of the crucible, watching the level of the water rise up and into the crown of tubes.

Below her the lights turned from blue to some rare and strange shade of purple and the waters rose faster creeping out across the tubes towards the walls. Only then did she turn her eyes towards the two exhausted humans, considering them without expression for a while, her eyes taking in their pain and exhaustion. This path was never easy, not even in the days of the old ones who had built it, but these two had done as well as any she could have chosen. Now it was nearly over.

The Lady watched as her captain turned her head to look at Calypso's pirate, saw him stretch out a somehow fragile hand to catch her fingers. The Lady considered them for a moment, then she spread her fan and studied the flickering pictures there, it was indeed nearly done. Soon the die would be cast forever and she could set the next series of wheels in motion. She snapped the fan shut and gazed back towards the dying man and woman, watching them with serious eyes for a long moment. Then she tilted her head, nodded her satisfaction, and smiled.

***

Jack had been crouched, eyes closed, for some time. The events of the last two years had been playing through his mind constantly since the moment he had first admitted to himself that they were unlikely to get out. Nothing he did could stop the memories and with each cycle they became more vivid and real. Reviewing them had left him with a burning question that he didn't wish to ask, but which kept trying to force its way past his clenched teeth. His jaw was sore with the effort of not asking it. Yet it wouldn't leave him be and he knew that it would win in the end.

He felt rather than saw Elanor turn her head towards him and he reached out without thinking about it, joints rasping and muscles breaking, or so it seemed, as he did so. He felt her fingers hot and weak beneath his own but her hand was steady enough, the tremor was not fear he knew, merely the lake taking its revenge for their intrusion. His own body was racked with the same shakes and some others that owed more to the memories. For a brief moment he wondered what eternity would be like for him, and then, for a longer moment, he wondered what kind of captain of the Dutchman he would have made. With a sigh he offered up a prayer that Elizabeth would prove true and that William would indeed be free as the legend told. Then he smiled to himself as he thought of Will's face should he ever know that Captain Jack Sparrow prayed, let alone for his good self.

The thought was his undoing for the smile released his locked jaw and the question he didn't want to ask skipped past his lips like a dolphin racing a ship's bow wave.
"Why did you come with me?" His voice was faint even to his own ears. "You did not need to and, as you so honourably pointed out, there was no way that I could have made you."

She didn't answer and he turned his head with a jerk that wrenched his neck, suddenly frightened that she had gone before him to wherever this place would lead. But her eyes were open and still lit with life, staring at the crucible as if looking for an answer. Her breathing was quick and harsh but there was still some strength in her voice,
"Purpose I suppose." The words were laboured but clear enough, "All my life I've had a purpose. I've never let it define me, I'm not that much of a fool, but I've always had one and its shaped how I've spent my life. Not having one has never been easy for me, and it seemed worse here somehow. Being out of time and place was bad enough but to be adrift, directionless, was more frightening still. This was as good a direction as any other."
"Hmm, just like the Commodore then." Jack sounded almost pleased, but the look he gave her was kind enough. "Saw what being rudderless did to him, and it was not a pretty sight, being purposeless delivered him into Beckett's hands."
"I thought you said that was ambition?"
"Ah well to the commodore the one was the other and the other was the one, if you see what I mean?"
She raised an eyebrow then shrugged,
"I might at that."

There was silence for a moment, both staring before them each seeing something other than the place they were in.
"I don't blame you if that's what you want to know," she said finally.
Jack gave a faint hiss of what she assumed was laughter
"Makes you an exception then. Everyone else tends to. He certainly did. The commodore."
"Was it your fault?"
"Can't see as how. I did what I do, he did what he did, seemed right enough to me. Plain mad if he thought I'd hand over me crew for him to string up and me ship for him to sink. I ran, he chased, it's how the game is played. He lost, not my fault he lost his perspective along with it. I can feel for his losing his ship and men, but for the rest.."
He shrugged, the movement bringing another hiss, this time of pain, his fingers tightening around hers."
"Why do you think he did it then?" she was talking to distract him and they both knew it.
"I could hazard a guess." He rolled his head ignoring the rusty stiffness of his joints as best he could, and looked at her again, "used to being on the winnin' side was the Commodore and I'd wager he'd not lost much before, not for his own fault that is, and he didn't know how to bear it. Comin' so soon after losing Elizabeth would not have made it easier, but it were not that that did it I'd guess."

She sighed,
"Perhaps, I've certainly seen it. Men who seem to have the golden touch, who always seem to come out on top, men who find that they don't know who they are anymore when their pedestal takes a shaking. Maybe it's that they never do find out who they are, not for themselves, that they take their sense of worth from what they see in others eyes, from the respect they are given. When that is gone, or even just damaged, they don't know what to do or how to behave. They often look for someone else to blame, it's the only way they can cope with the failure."
Elanor tightened her fingers on his for a moment,
"Somehow I don't think that is one of your failings. They might well be legion but I doubt they include that one."
A flash of gold, caught from the corner of her eye, suggested that he had smiled,
"Told William that. What really counts is what a man can do and what he can't do." His voice was sombre as one finger stroked the back of her hand, "no different for women I'd think."
She sighed again,
"No. When you come down to it, no it's not."

A sense of unreality was overtaking her, a feeling that was heightened when Jack raised her fingers slowly, and with much effort, to his lips. The brush was light but the touch was furnace hot and dry,
"I'm glad you don't blame me," his voice was faint but steady, "but I'm sorry for bringing you to this for all that. I blame me if that helps. Can't say no more than that, and it's little comfort I know, but I never thought it would come to this. I hope that ghost of yours get your ship away, for I'd not see so fair a lady anchored here till the end of time."
She squeezed his fingers,
"Nor I. But I wonder why Ariadne has deserted us."
Jack didn't answer and when she looked across at him she could see that his eyes were closed; but he was awake for he seemed to humming a song, 'Spanish ladies' she thought it was. As she watched he grinned to himself again and the song changed, though she couldn't make out what the new song was. Slowly and gradually the sound faded away and his fingers slid from hers.
"Please god don't let the locker have him," she found herself thinking, " and don't leave either of us alone in eternity."

Jack had slid sideways and his hair was splayed against her shirt. For the first time she noticed that it was brown not black and wondered why she hadn't seen it before. Her own body was weakening, the lights seemed to be dimming, and yet on the edge of vision she thought she saw a flash of silver and gold. The pirate was unconscious now, sprawled like some colourful children's toy discarded beneath a Christmas tree. Elanor laid her hand on top of his and listened to his laboured breathing until the world started spinning away from her. The last thought she was aware of was,
"Will it be the same this time?"

***

The lights faded now, the yellow and green and red giving way to the purple before settling back into blue and silver. It flickered briefly over the two still figures, its light augmented by the gemstone flash of the Lady's smile and the streaming light from her fan, then she stepped away from them, her silken skirts washing like the tide across their touching hands.

The figure drifted across the floor and past the alcove, not looking at the remains of those whose time had been badly chosen. The Lady was satisfied with what she saw.

High above them the pressure was building, the legacy of the old ones had stirred again and the event of five centuries was coming to a climax. The way was clear.

***

Elanor woke to falling rain.

For a moment she thought she was home again, lying in her bed in her childhood home listening to the rain falling against the darkened window panes, as she had once so loved to do. She could imagine that if she opened her eyes she would see the familiar room, the books and charts that has been her companions since her early years sprawled across the table, the teddy bear that had been her first Christmas present propped drunkenly up in the chair.

Then she realised that she was catching the rain on her tongue, and thatm eant she was outside. In the garden then watching the stars strengthening against a darnenign sky before being summponed in to sleep. But there were no stars and she could feel the weight of another body leaning heavily against her shoulder and she knew she wasn't home at all.

Was she dead then? If so then it was not like the last time, so perhaps she had journeyed with Jack to the locker after all. Yet she could not feel the sun he had described on her skin, and the ground beneath her hand was smooth, not sand but nor was it the wood of a ships deck.

But it was raining, the drops running down her face and neck, cooling her heated skin in its passing. At some time she had opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue like a child exploring an ice cream cone and the cool of it tipping down her partched throat was heaven. The fire that had burned her before she fell asleep was still there but its heat was more muted now. Carefully she opened her eyes, they felt hot and gritty but her vision was clear enough. She turned her head; beside her Jack lay as if he were dead but the slight raise and fall of his chest told her that, like her, he still lived. At least she assumed she was alive, given the aches and pains it didn't seem likely she was dead. That settled she turned her attention to their prison.

At first nothing seemed changed, but then she noticed that the tube above her head was now full, the liquid within it a pale and delicate silver blue, like the colour of starlight. Slowly she turned her head and looked towards the crucible; the tubes above it were full too, but above them there hung a heavy mist, tendrils of it stretching out like painted smoke to weave its way around that diamond like cap. Where the mist touched the tubes it condensed falling as water droplets, each one a perfect teardrop and clear as the highest mountain stream. Tendrils of the mist had reached as far as where they sat and it slicked the tube above her head. It was that water dripping that had woken her. As she watched the mist grew thicker and more water started to drip running down the crucible too, sending heavy drops scattering to the floor below.

Elanor pushed back her sleeves and let the water wash unimpeded over her skin, the cold of it easing the tortured nerve endings. She eased Jack from her shoulder and hauled herself to her knees.

Even as she watched the mist grew thicker and more solid looking and the sound of the water dripping became louder. With effort she got to her feet and staggered across to towards the crucible. Closer to she could see that it was full, yet waves of bubbles suggested more water was pressing up from below. She had told Jack that the place was ancient and looking at it, thinking about what she knew of such systems, it seemed that it was no longer in perfect condition. It seemed to her that the influx of water had not stopped soon enough and the pressure in the tubes and whatever it was they led to had now reached a point where a fine mist was being forced out from ancient seams and joins, or maybe even through the walls of the tubes themselves. The question that had to be asked was would it explode? The water was starting to seep from beneath the walls too and in the open alcove she could see that it was streaming down from an unseen place as if another tank somewhere had been exceeded. But the possibility of a more violent outcome had taken hold of her mind and she was not inclined to explore.

She hurried back to the still sleeping Jack and shook him. At first he was as unresponsive as the rag doll he looked to be and she wondered if it was too late for him, then finally his beard twitched, his tongue explored the dripping whisker for a moment and then and with a much mumbled protest he opened his eyes.
"Wahd ya wake me for?" he slurred.
He sat up somewhat shakily, then, suddenly realising that he was sitting in a pool of water, he came awake. He looked around with a pained expression before staring up at the source of the water dripping onto his head with a look of disgust. Elanor almost felt like smiling.
"Well at least you're not dead, and if you don't want to be then it's probably time to go."
He looked at her owlishly for a moment then sighed,
"No where to go to. Will be dead soon enough. May as well die here in comfort." He looked at the pool of water spreading around him and sighed, "Well sort of comfort anyways."
"Maybe, maybe not." Elanor wasn't sure but she didn't think she felt quite as terrible as she had when she fell asleep. "Something is happening Jack and whatever it is I don't want to stay around to see the finale. I could be wrong but I think that it's just possible that the lake isn't going to kills us after all."

Jack raised his eyebrows at that and looked, rather pointedly at his hand. Then he frowned, the red wheals were still there but they didn't look quite as vicious as they had before, and though his flesh was still pulsing with his heart beat he could at least hear his own breathing again. Slowly and with a poorly disguised stagger he got to his feet, shaking the water from his shirt with a pained yet longing look. All around him water was dripping and suddenly looking at it was as much a torture as the burning of his skin had been,
"Water, need water. Never thought to say it in polite company but I need water" he said hoarsely. With that he went to the pipe and tipped his head and allowed some of the falling drops to land on his tongue.

Elanor was about to pull him away when it occurred to her that without water they would die soon anyway and with no obvious way out this was all the water that there was. Anyway she rather suspected they had both drunk some of it already, and could it do any worse than the lake water had? Her own thirst was telling her that drinking was worth any risk she might care to think of. As Jack straightened up she took his place, allowing the water to slide down her throat with all the sensuous pleasure that once upon a time the best chocolate would have brought.

"Pity we've nothing to collect any in, it would help if we could take some with us. It could take us days to get out of this place even assuming that we can." She said as she straightened up.
Jack smiled triumphantly and reached into his shirt bringing out a battered flask,
"Not much but better than nothing."
"What's in it? Rum?"
"What else, took it from Mr Gibbs, told him my need was greater." With that he downed half the contents in three convulsive swallows then, with a little bow, handed the flask to her.
With a snort of laughter she accepted the flask and swallowed the rest. Jack flicked an eyebrow but said nothing instead taking the flask and holding it under the dripping pipe. When it was full he leaned forward and drank some more wiping his mouth on his shirt sleeve as he stood aside to let her drink again.

Now they had started drinking their thirst seemed almost unassuagable but finally they stood back and stared around.
"So where now?" she asked.
Jack shrugged and began pacing. Nothing seemed to have changed except that the place was much wetter and colder than it had been. The red marks on their skins were still glowing with heat but both of them shivered as the water seemed to draw the heat from the air.
"Anywhere but here. I'm not sure that thing isn't about to blow." She waved a hand in the direction of the crucible.
"Fine but how?" Jack crossed to the edge of the mezzanine and stared down, "too far to jump and nothing to use as a rope. But you might be right, something is going on down there too."
Elanor crossed to join him, gawping a little as she saw the faint trace of light playing over the altar like stones beneath them. She caught hold of Jack's arm and pulled him across the floor to the slab that had brought them, with a surge of hope she stepped on it only to have the hope die as it remained where it was. Jack watched her with concern,
"You think that these might move now?"
"I hoped that they would. But it seems its not that easy."

Jack was silent for a moment then he pointed a finger at the slab,
"That one came up maybe another one goes down. If we can find it and if it is willing to go flyin' again."
Elanor looked around,
"Maybe. Maybe this side comes up and that side, " she pointed to the far side of the crucible close to the alcove, "goes down."
"Worth a try." Jack shrugged.

It took ten minutes of trial and error but in the end they found a slab, just outside the alcove, that shuddered as they stepped on it, and, after a moment of hesitation, began to sink back down towards the floor. As the travelled downwards they watched the crucible anxiously, for the mist above it was growing thicker, boiling across the mezzanine and obscuring all that was above it. All they could do was hope that it would remain in one piece until they found a way out.

As the slab neared the lower floor the water began to drip off the edge of the mezzanine, the flow gathering pace quickly until, as they stepped off onto the lower floor it was falling in horseshoe shaped curtain of water. As the stared up Jack pulled the compass from his belt and watched the steady needle with a growing grin. Finally satisfied he waved a hand at the water tipping down in front of them,
"Now that is what I call a fountain." .