Disclaimer: I own no part of Pirates of the Caribbean. Original characters and plots are owned by me.

Chapter 19

Kingdom of the Dead

There was nothing but darkness, and the dust choking me. I pulled the hem of my shirt over my nose to keep from inhaling the fine powder. Shaken and disoriented by the fall, I lay still and tried to think. Was anything broken? I couldn't tell, but I reckoned there would be many bruises. The back of my head throbbed, as did my shoulders. The urge to cough made me turn my neck and I was grateful to find nothing seemed amiss. I moved my fingers, then toes.

Someone was coughing close by. "Is that you, Padre?" I croaked.

"Yes. Are you injured?" I heard him extracting himself from the rocky spill, moving towards me.

I sat up. My wet clothes were coated with grainy sand, and my back ached as though it had been beaten. I closed and opened my fists; the numerous small cuts on my knuckles stung sharply. "No. Just…a bit rattled. No worse than a tavern brawl." Or a riot at Newgate, I thought. "What about you?"

Before he could answer, I heard Hector's voice, sounding far away. "I warned ye."

I looked up and discovered that the sinkhole had opened more than twenty feet above us. The silhouette of Hector's head was just visible as he peered over the edge at us.

"I don't suppose you have a rope?" I asked.

He gave an exasperated sigh and I knew he was putting his fists on his hips. "Ye weren't supposed to fall down a blasted hole!"

Maroto struggled to his feet. "It may not be a hole - more likely it's joined to the tunnel somehow," he said, running his hands along the walls.

"There's an opening here," he called out after a minute.

I followed his example, and soon found a break in the wall where drafts of air played across my face.

"And here," I said. "Surely one leads to the cave we saw." None of this assuaged Hector's sour mood.

"Thanks to yer folly, we'll have t' hope so," he said. "Light the lantern, then, so's I can find ye. I'll try t' make me way through."

He stepped back, but reappeared for an instant, with a final warning. "Don't move! Wait fer me!" Then he was gone.

"Better light the lantern," I said to Maroto. "Have you a tinderbox?"

"Yes," he replied. I heard him pull something from his pocket. "But first, you must heed me. You can't destroy the Fountain while Ponce de Leon protects it. I must tell you how to defeat him. My time may be short…"

I frowned. Why was he suddenly going on about Ponce de Leon? "Are you injured in some way?" I enquired, wondering if he had taken a blow to the head.

"No, but I-I might not be able to go on." Something in his voice was terribly urgent, and he gripped my elbow as he spoke. "I should have told you this before. Just hear me out. Before the Captain returns."

"I'm listening," I said.

"He cannot be killed, no matter how he is wounded. The only way to stop him is to keep him from ever returning to the Fountain."

At last Maroto was giving up his secrets. I pressed him for more. "How can I keep him from the Fountain?"

"By stopping the Santiago. He sails it by means of the Sword"- he swallowed hard-"the Sword of Triton." He evidently expected this to mean something to me.

"Never heard of it," I said. But I was curious – what use was a sword in sailing a ship?

"The Sword brings objects—things-to life, and they obey the owner of the weapon. You must get it away from him," He took a deep breath. "But there is one condition: the Sword may be taken from a corpse, but if possessed by a living man, it must be given."

"Oh, is that all?" As serious as our predicament was, this last bit of information caused me to laugh, but my hopes were crumbling within me. "And you suppose a dangerous, desperate man-a conquistador who cannot be killed-will just hand it over freely?" Thoroughly discouraged, I leaned my back against the stone wall, wishing I had never become a Messenger. "You ask the impossible."

"He was a good man once," he insisted. "He will listen to you."

In the darkness, I rolled my eyes. "Why would he listen to me when I can't even reason with you?"

"Because you offer escape, you bring release," Maroto explained patiently. "Do you think he has not felt pain? He has endured great suffering, as all those he loves have long gone from the world. And yet he remains-unable to die."

I was unconvinced, but thought I might as well hear the rest. "Will taking the Sword cause him to die? Or am I then expected to kill him?"

"No-if he gives you the Sword, you must leave him at once, before he succumbs to weakness and tries to take it back. The Sword will cause a tempest to rise. It will drive the Santiago onto land, where it will be marooned. He will be trapped, his stolen years will run out, and he will have no choice but to die a natural death."

I shook my head. "I think this should be your mission, Padre, not mine. You have a much greater understanding…" My voice trailed off. It staggered me to imagine what this would add to the world of troubles already crowding in on me.

"I have dedicated my life to this," said Maroto. "It is, as you say, my mission. I only ask you to do it if I fail."

I hesitated. Perhaps I should just make an empty promise and move on. My uncle had taught me that, in any event, one's plans rarely survive contact with the enemy. But I dug in my heels. Why commit myself to Maroto's plan when thus far I hadn't even glimpsed Ponce de Leon or his ship?

"I can't blindly promise," I said. "You had better hope you're wrong and your time isn't short, whatever you meant by that."

He didn't reply for a moment and I was sure I had disappointed him. Then he said, "At least promise this. If he should attack the Medusa-if you even think he is attacking-you will get off the ship as quickly as possible."

"Very well," I said, without much enthusiasm.

I heard him strike the flint from his tinderbox three or four times. Once he had a spark, he lit the lantern. The sight revealed to me made me catch my breath at once. The light revealed an enormous chamber, the limestone walls levelled and engraved with images of strange beasts and monsters which adorned a multitude of little squares; these I took for drawings, at first.

"What is this place?" I gasped.

Maroto gazed at the walls, then turned to me with an expression of wonder. "We have found the city's royal tombs! The Kingdom of the Dead."

"How could you know that?" A sudden suspicion struck me. "Have you been here before?"

He shook his head. "It is written in the journals. When Ponce de Leon found Cuidad Blanca, he asked for news of the fabled map, promising eternal youth to any who helped him. The people had never heard of such a thing, and they laughed at his questions. But a few elders knew better and desired the gift of the Fountain. They brought him here, where outsiders are forbidden, took him to the inner sanctum, and let him copy the map."

I was utterly certain that none of this was in the journal, but how could I call him a liar without admitting that I had seen the book myself? It was better to learn all I could before Hector found us. "Did the elders acquire eternal youth?" I asked.

Maroto leaned forward and lowered his voice. "No. He took one or two with his other captives, sailed for the Fountain, and sacrificed all so that he and his crew could extend their own lives."

He paused for a moment, and I knew he was choosing his words carefully. "Years later, the Santiago returned for more hostages. Few people remained, but many bones lay half buried in the sands. It was said that the treachery of the elders had brought the wrath of the ancient gods upon the city."

"You mean the night killings, don't you?" A thrill of alarm rippled over my skin. "Are you saying that people were killed by some sort of Carib deities?"

"More like demons," he replied. "Not for revenge, but to feed."

My throat tightened. "Was it the birds?"

"No." He seemed about to say more, but then he clamped his mouth into a firm line and looked away into the shadows.

Before I could conjure forth my next question, I heard the familiar sound of Hector's footsteps, and saw a light approaching through one of the tunnels.

He looked grim as he joined us. Ignoring Maroto, he surveyed me from head to toe, frowning.

"I'm not injured," I said.

"O' course ye ain't," he snorted. But it seemed to me he looked relieved.

Maroto cleared his throat and pointed to the unexplored tunnel. "We should try this way. The map can't be far."

Hector glanced at him, then turned back to me. Finally, he addressed us both. "We'll go no further till we agree on a matter o' some importance: there's to be no more runnin' here an' there as the fancy takes ye. We stick together. If I see anyone leave our party, I'll be inclined to take it ill." There was an ominous pause. "Understood?"

Maroto and I gave quick nods of consent. Hector seemed satisfied that he had made his point, and we continued on into the tunnel.

-o-

We only went a short distance before we passed under an arch and down a few steps. The tunnel ended here, and we found ourselves in a huge cavern ringed with cliffs far above us. Stalactites hung from its ceiling, forming weird columns and twisted curtains of glittering white and gold. The ceiling was too high for our lantern's light to illuminate it. Before us lay a wide curving path with steep drops on either side of it. Gentle sounds of rushing water filled the air, and I realised that the path must bridge an underground river.

As we advanced, the air cooled and grew slightly moist with the spray from below. I paused a few times to listen. It was difficult to hear over the burbling of the river's current, but I was almost certain there was an occasional shuffling as something moved on the rock ledges above us. It sounded much bigger than a bird. Something soft and heavy.

"What ails ye?" Hector hissed as I turned slowly with eyes wide.

I studied his expression. His eyes had the familiar glint that betokened a febrile obsession with plunder that was almost a madness. The Kraken itself could have been dogging our footsteps, but Hector would push on until he put his hand on the treasure.

"Nothing." I resumed walking.

Once across the river, we passed through a second arch and entered another chamber. The entrance was flanked with iron baskets of torches, which we lit from our lantern and placed in brackets on the walls. Gradually, they produced enough light for us to see the entire cavern.

We were in a high chamber that looked as if it were made entirely of gold, but this illusion was caused by the many gold panels that surrounded us, all inscribed with strange signs and geometric shapes.

"By all the powers…" I murmured as I recognised what they were.

The chamber's walls and ceiling had been engraved with the constellations, all shown in their correct position from the horizon, and in relation to each other. We were standing at the centre of an immense astronomical map of gold – a complete representation of the world and the sky.

Then my eyes fixed on the far end of the chamber.

"The ruler of the Dead," Maroto whispered almost in my ear. "The patron of Cuidad Blanca."

Framed by an enormous arched recess in the wall, there stood a towering gold figure, an idol seated on a throne, with a gigantic carved wheel behind it which I knew to be a calendar. Although the idol resembled a person in its general aspects, it had a long, serpentine tail, and its entire body was spotted like a leopard.

Its face could only be called monstrous. In place of a nose, there was a snout with slit-like nostrils and a vertical groove like a jaguar. Something like a serpent protruded from its forehead, but whether this was part of the creature or represented part of a crown, I couldn't tell.

Its heavy brows frowned over two mad, staring, round eyes, carved like pinwheels and full of hellish glee. The tubular lips smiled widely, exposing all of the upper teeth, and curling up at the ends in circles like post holes. From the centre of the mouth, a thin, lolling tongue with serrated edges fell past the chin, ending well below the shoulders. Many small holes had been worked into the tongue, which looked almost like pores.

And yet, I breathed a sigh of relief. I don't know what I was expecting-a living demon, perhaps? -but the figure, while repulsive, was a mere statue, and certainly didn't terrify me.

We began to make our way cautiously across the chamber, navigating amongst numerous disorderly heaps of countless tiny golden figurines-animals, people, rafts, vessels. Offerings, perhaps, to the city's divine patron. As we walked, we looked all round us for any sign of the map.

When we drew near the figure of the deity, Hector jostled my elbow and nodded towards the ground near its feet. More than a dozen mummies were seated there, posed as if they were leaning upon their spears. Their deteriorating bodies had been dyed red and dressed in red robes.

As we gazed, Maroto stepped past us. He stooped over one mummy, then straightened up, holding up something in his hand -– a snow-white feather that seemed freshly fallen from some great bird. I drew back in alarm.

"These are your birds," Maroto told me. "After the elders were buried here, stories say they were condemned to take the form of birds each day and roam the forest, feeding on carrion. They have no power to kill. The man you saw was likely some unfortunate who had died of illness or starvation-"

But Hector cut him short. "I care not a louse whether they be birds, rats or devils!" he said in his rough, gravelly voice. One restless hand felt for the grip of his pistol as he spoke. "If ye know where the map be, speak up - unless ye have no wish t' see the morning!"

Maroto was unperturbed. He merely pointed over our heads at the idol, and all at once I saw the map-the object of all our endeavours and desires-and wondered how I could have ever missed it.

When we had first sighted the golden idol, its massive hands had seemed to be folded across its chest, but, on closer inspection, they were actually flexed back at the wrists, with the thumbs and index fingers holding the corners of a small, shining rectangle - the map, engraved on a polished gold tablet.

"We must pry it loose," said Maroto, as if the very thought made him uncomfortable.

That would require me, as the lightest and smallest of our party, to clamber up this monstrosity, stand between its hands, and pry the tablet loose. I studied the little artefact from different angles, and judged it to be no more than two feet on the longest side, and so thin that I could not tell the thickness.

I glanced at Hector. "I need a leg up, please."

He did not reply, but laced his fingers together to form a sling. I put one hand on his shoulder and stepped into his hands. On a count of "three", he boosted me high enough to throw my weight upon the statue's knee.

As I wriggled across its knee and drew myself up to the heavy forearm, I noticed that the gold had a peculiar feel to it, most unlike any metal I had ever touched. It was leathery, and there was an odour clinging to it that I associated with snakes or reptiles. I stared at the gold. There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about it. Perhaps my recent fall had rattled me more than I knew.

Seeing me hesitate, Hector urged me on. "Yer nearly there! If ye fall, we'll catch ye - keep climbin'!"

I ventured along the forearm and braced my feet against the wrist. I could have sworn that it gave just a bit under the pressure, but again I looked and saw nothing unusual.

I pulled out my knife and tested a corner of the tablet. The softness told me it was pure, unadulterated gold. Perhaps the idol had been made the same way, and that explained its softness. I could press my blade on the tablet's corner and make it rock a bit. I pried it loose, bending it slightly, and felt soft wafts of warm air above me, almost like the breath of some titanic creature. I looked at the statue's face. It was clearly a mere statue. My fears were affecting my judgement.

Hector stood below, face upturned, watching me. I dropped the tablet to his waiting hands, and saw his features glow with delight as he caught it.

I climbed back down and slid off the statue's golden knee. Maroto caught and steadied me, as Hector stood nearby, grasping the tablet. I turned to Hector and held out my hand. After a slight delay, he grudgingly acquiesced and surrendered the precious tablet to me.

"Let's be off. We'll destroy it outside," he said gruffly.

We hastened back across the chamber, and had almost reached the arched entrance, when there was an abrupt scuffling similar to the noises I'd heard on the bridge. A grey, lizard-like creature as big as an ox leapt from behind a treasure heap not five feet away. It was fat-bellied, with clawed feet, and it gave a sharp hiss as it approached.

We backed away slowly, wanting to create as much distance between it and ourselves – who knew what it wanted? Dinner, probably. I was quite sure that neither Hector nor Maroto fancied becoming its next meal. It moved forward on stubby muscular legs, much quicker than I had anticipated for a creature of that size. Hector drew his pistol and fired, but the creature's thick, leathery hide deflected the shot.

And then the statue moved.

In an instant, the statue's tongue darted out to an amazing length, but it wasn't aimed at us. With the speed of a frog catching a fly, it seized the lizard, closing over its prey like a hand rolling into a fist. Then, as I watched in horror, it clenched tighter and tighter. The body of the lizard creature began to crumple and shrink in the way an orange will do as the juice and pulp are squeezed out of it.

Maroto's face was pale as ivory. He turned to me. "It will feed for hours," he said. "All the flesh will be siphoned in through its tongue, leaving only bones."

So that was how the residents of Cuidad Blanca had died. My own tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth and I couldn't speak a word. I looked at Maroto with wild eyes.

"The worst is over, señora," he said. "We are safe from harm, and have almost achieved our goal! Let us go now."

Maroto seized a torch, and I took the lantern. We all ran from that temple of horrors, and on to the bridge. As we crossed it, I had the urge to fling the tablet into the river, but somehow I restrained myself. I wanted to be certain of its destruction. When we reached the other side, I called a halt to our exodus.

Out of breath, I set down the lantern and laid the tablet on the ground. "It's pure gold," I gasped. "Easy to smash it – the sooner the better!" I picked up a rock, but my hand was still shaking from our ordeal.

Hector caught my wrist and forced me back.

"Keep yer hands off it!" he shouted as we struggled. "Would ye throw away eternal youth, ye feckless wench?

I threw my weight against his as he tried to push me back, and we staggered with uneven steps a few feet away from the tablet. "You never meant to destroy it!" I cried, my heart bursting with disappointment and anger. "In spite of all I told you about the Fountain!"

"How d' ye know there ain't a way round the Ritual?" he snarled.

"Let me go! I gave you a second chance, even after you betrayed me—and you took advantage, just as you always do! You planned this all along!"

Over Hector's shoulder, I glimpsed Maroto darting forward. He snatched up the tablet and ran for the passage leading out. "Stop!" I screamed after him.

Hector turned just in time to see Maroto disappear into the tunnel. He cast a sharp look at the ground where the tablet had lain. "Curse you and yer naggin' ways!" he yelled at me, "He'll destroy the map!"

He shoved me aside and set off in hot pursuit. I followed quickly, but the tunnel had so many corners, I quickly lost sight of them and had to let the sound of their footsteps guide me.

Embittered by Hector's treachery, my breast overflowed with recriminations as I chased them. I should have known better, of course. I had trusted him to put our love ahead of his greed and appetites. What a fool I had been! That woman in Tortuga should have told me all I needed to know about him and the state of our marriage. Betrayal meant nothing to him. He was still a pirate, for all his gentlemanly pretences.

I had reached the last leg of the tunnel when I heard a single shot fired. Had he just shot Maroto? "Oh, no, Hector- please, no!" I muttered, as I rushed forward. I was too distracted to recall that Hector had already discharged his pistol, and hadn't reloaded it.

As I ran out the entrance to the cave, I was violently seized and jerked back. My arms were pinioned and bound, and my weapons taken. But all thought of resistance was driven out by the sight that greeted my eyes.

At my feet lay the motionless body of my husband. My heart gave a sickening lurch as I gazed at his features, so pale and serene. Blood covered the left side of his face. I screamed and fell to my knees. As I sobbed, I heard rude laughter, and looked up to see my assailants-Digger and two other pirates. Then I saw Maroto's body lying further off in a dark pool of blood. He was clearly dead.

In the midst of this tableau of horrors, Jeremy stepped into the lantern light. He was holding the tablet in one hand and pointing a pistol at me with the other.

Chapter 20 – Winner Takes All – Jeremy shows the cards he holds.