The Betrayed Marionette
~.~.~
From the very first that morning Amu had lain awake in her cabin, drenched in a chill sweat, still unable to shake her mind of the shadows that still lurked in her head when she closed her eyes.
It was almost reminiscent of the time that their former Captain had spent on this ship - almost too much like those nights where she had lain awake in the dark listening; fearing the darkness just down the corridor; when his presence had consumed this vessel like black clouds of smoke, choking them, muffling their voices.
Yes, it was almost like that, Amu mused. But this was… somewhat different. Something beyond the natural realm. Every imperceptible little creak and knock and flicker of firelight had morphed into unknown things, sinister and otherworldly. The waves beyond the window were the whispering of wistful voices. The occasional echo of boots below the deck as the crewmates switched shifts in the wee small hours were the frenzied, frightening sounds of frantic beings clawing their way up the sides of the stern. Sometime around midnight, Amu had drifted from a dreamless sleep to find the moon had vanished behind a sheet of cloud and the gathering shadow in the corners of her room were tall and terrifying, monstrous things; scaling her walls, inching closer and closer towards her bed where she lay open-mouthed, trapped in the grimace of a silent scream, fighting against the sheets until what little remained of her common sense kicked in and the grim figures shrank back, quickly and quietly, and at last all that was left was the gentle rocking of the ship and the hush of the sea and, much to her great relief, the relative comfort of an empty cabin.
Yet, when at last she did sleep, there was nothing to perceive save the darkness - an empty abyss in which at times she thought she could just barely make out the rhythm of something distant… But she knew not what. Upon waking Amu felt empty - as though whatever lurked inside her head had carved out a hollow space within her heart and left her utterly helpless to its influence. And so she had lain numb and cold until the first few rays of dawn had broken out over the horizon and at last banished the last of the unforgiving, unrelenting gloom from her cabin.
Amu could already feel the heat gathering as she stood in silence at the forecastle of the Shining Black, watching as the soft light of the rising sun washed anew over the peak of this deceiving isle. Below her, little fish dotted with many colours were swarming about a billowing smudge of algae, darting in and out between the corals. Out past the reef and the maze of shoals - way over on the distant line of the beach - Amu could just about see the near-imperceptible figures of many men tending to the smouldering remains of the big, round fire pits that they'd constructed throughout the night. She didn't know how they could stand it down there in such close proximity to the flames. The humidity was already sticking to her skin. It was almost thick enough to smother out the foreboding wash of dread that crept about her whenever she so much as thought about once more stepping foot on that isle.
Foul things had crept in the darkened corners of her cabin that night. And Amu couldn't help but return to the unforgettable figure she had seen (or thought she'd seen) crouched in the darkness of the jungle foliage - that being; that shadow; that thing.
An involuntary shiver overcame her, so strong and sudden that Amu yanked herself away from the bulwark. Her breath was shallow, her heart pounding.
"Get yourself together!" she hissed and she shook her head for good measure.
'But a trick of the light, it was. Just a shift in the shadows!'
But then again…
Amu grit her teeth and turned away. She didn't want to think about it.
Quite thankfully, there was a ruckus on the deck that morning to distract her. Those who had only just risen were singing merrily and gorging themselves on the bounty of fresh, new fruits that had been brought in from the jungle the night before. One by one they indulged and those that weren't were hooting and whistling and readying their small fleet of jolly-boats to ferry them all to shore. Amu was grateful for the distraction. Shaking the last lingering misgivings from her mind, she found Yaya in the middle of the throng. The young girl was evidently pleased, laden with baskets of bright produce in every colour under the sun.
"Ya Maj'sty!" Yaya beamed immediately. She jumped up from the companionway, leaving her fruit in the hands of some capable sailor, and took the princess by the hand. "Ya Maj'sty, let's go explorin'! Yaya wants to get us some more fruit! Yaya's found such marvellous things in them there trees! Yaya's so proud o' the lads what brought back such excellent bounty! They shan't ever go hungry again, they shan't!"
Amu briefly wondered how the girl could be so upbeat despite the events of the night before, for surely she and all the others had felt it too? The watchful presence? The voices whispering in the trees? Had Yaya not seen it?
The former princess forced herself to remember that it had been but a trick of the light and nothing more - that there was no reason to fear the isle and its nightly shadows…
But that repeated reminder was less than convincing.
Thankfully, she was brought back to earth by the eventual presence of the Captain aboard. Ikuto made his entrance as the sun rose over the emerald isle, his keen gaze on the sight of the surf on the shore, and his arrival had the crew put to work with a renewed sense of urgency.
Amu looked over at him almost expectantly. They had not been the last to return to the ship that first night and Amu had been briefly jolted out of her unsettling thoughts by the telltale clamour of many bootsteps outside her cabin door. Yet, though she had stayed up with her ear to the grain for some time, whatever tidings the men had sought to bring back to their Captain escaped her and she heard no more from another living soul until the day had dawned and she had herself left the confines of her cabin and the disturbing dreams behind her. Amu had feared of natives ever since she'd caught sight of that shadow in the forest and, deep down, she knew it had crossed Ikuto's mind too, but to her dismay (or relief, she couldn't tell which) she found that no man had reported any evidence of any living inhabitants on the isle and, with that, Amu knew the anxiety should have eased, for, surely, that put it down to have been just a trick of her own imagination, right?
She hoped that it did, but there was no time to consider it. Word had reached them upon their return to the ship that one of the groups heading westwards had found what appeared to be an old, badly beaten trail a little way into the forest, heading north about one of the many ridges that gradually heightened towards the further, far deeper regions of the island's interior. The men had not been able to follow it a great distance before darkness had fallen and, as it turned out, it had been the little group of pirates outside Amu's cabin door that night who had tried in vain to find an easier route in the same direction, but it was to no avail and the night had soon left them completely helpless beneath the canopy of the trees. Therefore, with the discovery of little more interesting than further, mostly empty sand flats to the east, Ikuto had formed a band comprising of most of his crew at first light and decided that their focus that day would lie on working their way along the trail until dark.
And so Amu found herself once more sweltering, wiping the perspiration from her brow and looking back nervously over her shoulder as they trekked their way back into the jungle, treading heavily over fallen branches and wet leaf litter that slipped and slid dangerously beneath their feet until, after perhaps an hour or so, their pirate guides stopped and gestured into the tangled mess just a few feet away.
There, true to their word, Ikuto and Amu and all their men found themselves looking in wonder upon a gigantic, rectangular slab sticking haphazardly out of the dirt - a lodestone or a piece of rough-hewn pavement that had faced the ravages of time and come out on the other side looking relatively unscathed. Amu crouched down beside it. Old and weathered and covered in a web of thin, finger-like roots, as though being slowly and unwillingly sucked back by the might of the jungle itself, it was as clear as day that this was no mere upturned rock. This was a marker, intricately detailed and decorated over every inch in interlinking patterns, geometric in shape, worn and faded over the passage of time, but carved deep into the very memory of the stone itself. Amu ran her fingertips gently over the stonework. It was an astounding piece of craftsmanship. Her skin broke out in goosebumps.
"That's where it starts, Ca'pn." Someone said in the background. "Goes on for miles, it does. There's another one o' these every couple hundred metres or so. Plus the odd bit o' debris here an' there."
They were right. Amu and the rest of the crew had been expecting some sort of faint dust track when they'd first heard of this trail through the trees, but no - up ahead, beneath the soft warmth of the sunlight as it filtered gently down through the canopy, there were hundreds more markers laying smothered under years upon years worth of forest growth; some swallowed almost wholly by the spirit of nature, some still standing tall above the roots, but all had left behind their individual imprints on the landscape, just distinguishable as they wound their way through the forest and disappeared into the green.
"Oh! That'll be the natives, all right!" Yaya chirped up behind them, completely unaware of the hush that had settled over the group. "That'd be going back to the ol' pirate Lord's days, no doubt!"
"Natives?" Amu whispered quietly, thinking with a brief flicker of fright back to the unwelcome figure that had haunted her otherwise empty dreams, but Ikuto shook his head.
"This must be… Hundreds of years old," he said finally. "If there were natives here, then they were here long, long ago."
This settled her for only a moment and, thankfully, Yaya said no more on the subject. Ikuto drew out his cutlass, leaving the lodestone behind him and headed boldly into the foliage. And so in this way they continued on, their Captain and his throng of companions picking their way through the gradually steepening path, hacking away at bits of root and tree and all manner of vines and creepers that every so often leapt out unexpectedly to hinder their progress.
For a long time they were disconcerted to find that the jungle was fighting back. Each time a branch or weed was cut, tens more seemed to spring up in their place and before long midday had crept up upon them, the sun bearing down upon the treetops in full, the wildlife awakening and filling the air with their music in fervour. The pirates periodically had to change places, taking turns to clear the way at the head of the group and letting their fellows rest before exhaustion and heatstroke overcame them. Yaya was starting to babble away aimlessly to anyone who would listen (or, at times, apparently to herself). She scurried to and fro, back and forth through the surrounding greenery as she espied various berries or nuts or low-hanging fruit near enough to pinch from beneath the undergrowth. Amu was almost worried they'd lose her, for at times she seemed to disappear completely into the vegetation, but the young girl would inevitably turn up just in time, her cheeks rosy and her grin contagious, utterly unaffected by the heat and the moisture as the rest of them were. Amu didn't know how she managed to spot all these well-hidden delicacies. Soon the girl's arms were laden with papayas and walnuts and many other unfamiliar fruits of various colours and textures that Amu couldn't even describe and for that it was almost worth putting up with her incessant chattering. She was quickly becoming a background noise that could almost rival the bugs. But it was quite comforting, despite the heat and the relentless trek and the lingering memory of the worrisome events of the previous night, to know that there would be a good deal more to eat when they stopped to rest that evening. Plus, what was more, the sight of food lifted the crews' spirits immensely.
"Jeez," Kukai muttered, gratefully taking something red and sweet-smelling from Yaya's little horde of goods and falling back as another pirate went to take his place, machete in hand. He devoured the fruit in one go and restrained himself to but a dribble of water from the skin at his belt.
"Couldn't the ol' Cap'n have cleared up a bit before havin' us fight through this blasted forest?" He waved absently at a small swarm of biting midges that had billowed up like dust clouds as one of their favoured trees was mercilessly hewn down before them. All around the company the jungle was buzzing - pulsing and whirring with the beat of tiny wings until the whole place seemed alive and anxious. Apparently they had stumbled into a grove of what appeared to be resting cicadas. Every now and then they caught a flash of red or yellow or of bright, iridescent blue as the tropical birds dove about the canopy, swooping and snapping at the trunks of the trees and soaring away in triumph with their prize. Kukai chuckled lightly.
"Aw, I ought to have brought Daichi, don't ya think? He'd've felt right at home."
There was another lodestone here, completely engulfed in a thicket of lush, green vines that sprouted bright pink petals, but Amu didn't have to look twice to recognise that it was there, for the plant life had grown so unnaturally around it that the pirates didn't even doubt they were still following the right path. Instead she brushed past it, using the thing as leverage as she fought up a dip in the treacherous path. She smiled fondly at the mention of their feathered friend. That is, until Yaya saw fit to spoil the moment;
"Ya know, the parrot were the idol o' this place, it were!" She squawked, skipping merrily up the trail without a care in the world. Her pigtails bounced with every hop; "Yaya's seen 'em carved on them there markers! Yaya heard o' tribes that would keep 'em in gilded cages at the heart o' their villages! And when the birds were dead they'd pluck out all them feathers an' weave 'em into their dress for ceremonies. You'd see 'em in brightly-coloured garb runnin' up an' down them beaches with feather's a-flyin' an' hollerin' 'til their voices could be heard far out to sea!"
Amu didn't know exactly where most of Yaya's knowledge of island natives came from, but it wasn't the most feasible thing she'd ever heard. Yaya went on;
"Daichi oughta be thankin' his lucky stars that they're all dead an' gone! Oh yes, Yaya's heard o' islands like this and, by God, if this ain't the place, I'll eat Cap'n's hat!"
"Excuse me?"
Ikuto fell back, an eyebrow raised in question at the girl as he gratefully let another member of the crew take over for the time being. By this point, Amu and Kukai (and, most probably, most of the remaining crew) were giving each other dubious looks, but Yaya's eyes were positively glittering. She sighed blissfully, far too wrapped up in the romanticism to pay aught else attention.
If Amu had been less preoccupied with picking her way across the leaf litter, she might have paused to acknowledge the familiarity of the situation. Truly in her heart she wanted to smile secretly to herself at the sight, for Yaya had that same childish gleam about her that the princess recognised in herself - in the memory of all those endless nights sat at her balcony doors, watching in wonder as the world fell away and the empty shadow of night came slowly to life under the watch of a thousand, glittering stars.
But the jungle was growing relentless; the humidity was rising; and with each and every step - and with Yaya's ramblings still echoing in her ears - Amu could feel something akin to apprehension building and brooding unpleasantly in the pit of her stomach. And, against her will, it was slowly becoming too much to ignore.
The group passed yet another lodestone, having not seen another in the usual regular intervals for longer than they cared for, and there came a rapturous cry in triumph as the crew confirmed they were still upon the right path, their continuous and tireless effort slowly but surely paying off. There was a brief pause, punctuated only by the occasional 'thwack!' of the foliage and the singing of steel as the crew worked their way through the impossible growth up ahead. Somewhere amongst the canopy, a macaw was squawking shrilly into the air. Amu fell back into step with the rusty-haired pirate at her side, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by that unwelcome, niggling anxiety, crawling its way up her spine as they entered a patch of forest clearing. The trees had thinned. The slope had levelled. And, though the pirates were sighing in relief, Amu just felt exposed.
Something unseen gripped at the back of her neck. The hairs on her arms were raised - raised as a feline arches in terror. As though unseen eyes, piercing and burning, were peering between the bushes; the air echoing; the foliage dancing amidst the breeze, swaying as though things were creeping through the undergrowth. Alarmed, Amu turned, scanning the treeline, but, though there was nothing her heart was racing; face draining; her chest filling with that dark sense of dread that had gripped at her during the night in her cabin; all else seemed to fall away.
A twig snapped.
She gasped-
"Hinamori?"
And, just as quickly as it had come, the feeling disappeared.
The first Amu knew was the humidity. It returned all at once - sticking the hair to her cold, white cheeks. Suddenly the jungle was loud again - the bugs and the breeze alive and colourful around her - as being awoken unexpectedly from the very deep of a delightful dream, and whatever had taken ahold of her so unexpectedly was gone, fleeing back into the foliage like the retreat of the tide ere a dreadful wave and dissipating as the spray thins on the shore.
Kukai was frowning, cocking his head inquisitively to one side in the middle of the track. Behind him, the hacking and whacking of machetes sounded brusque and deafening in her ears.
"You alright?"
Gripping at the hem of her bodice to hide the tremor of her hands, Amu let out a shaky breath. She shook a bead of sweat from her forehead. "I-I'm fine." She said breathlessly. "I'm fine…"
Kukai didn't look convinced (hell, even Utau had turned back, something serious shadowing her features), but, thankfully, Yaya was either blissfully ignorant or altogether conveniently indifferent. She proffered her waterskin.
"Here, Ya Maj'sty, Yaya's got plenty to spare. Ya Maj'sty should be keepin' her strength up, else Yaya'll have to carry her back to the ship!"
Amu didn't doubt that she could. Their new cook had the strength of a pack mule and the will of spirit to do it. Amu politely declined her offer, but subtly pinched her cheeks in an attempt to regain some colour when the others weren't looking.
"So," she began, if only to distract herself from the lingering foreboding that this isle had brought upon her. "What was Ichinomya doing on this island back then anyway?" She asked. "Seems like a lot of hard work to me - traipsing haphazardly through this accursed forest."
And, as if to prove her point, she chose that moment to stumble humiliatingly on an upturned root, cursing all the way as she went.
"That's a fair question." Ikuto replied from a little way up ahead. He'd sheathed his blade, rubbing at the shoulder of his cutlass-wielding arm. His blue hair was stuck to his forehead and his forearms, uncovered and exposed on account of the stifling, muggy heat, were covered in scratches and other superficial little wounds, having battled so long with the fierce, unforgiving foliage all around them. "This place was before my time aboard the Shining Black." He went on, looking deep in thought. "I do not recall it."
"Ah, you've got a point." Kukai chimed in, helpfully tearing down a thin veil of cascading vines so that Yaya could investigate a promising-looking shrub nearby. He waited as she scrabbled about in the dirt like a scavenger. "It don't seem much like the type o' place Kazuomi would pay attention to."
"This does feel like too much of an effort for him." Ikuto muttered drily, low enough so that only Amu could have heard him. She bit back a cheeky snigger at his expression.
Kukai continued; "It were a long time ago, that's for sure. Hell even I remember, for the most part, an' I was only a little'un!" He dropped back a pace or two and graciously let another one of their shipmates take up his machete for a short spell, preoccupied in his own thoughts as he was. "We were low on supplies back then," he mused; "An' this whole isle's just a bounty for fruit an' such. Best a man could hope for - especially when he's cast to sea. O' course the whole place has changed now. I don't reckon many have been here since then. An' I don't remember much of this. Just a lost little cabin boy, I was back then. They never let me go much further than the thickets down by the delta."
"No," there was a playful lilt in Ikuto's tone. "I wouldn't have left you alone in this place for more than a minute. Wouldn't want you to get too carried away with yourself. Listen to me now, Kukai, if you bring back any more of those damn birds-"
Kukai's face turned red. "Oi!" He puffed up, indignant; "Daichi's a damn good asset an' you know it! Besides, at least I only stopped to chat with the birds. The ol' Cap'n had his lads out on this here rock for days tryna scout it out from to to bottom! It were the ol' rumours, ya see. The ol' bastard's a hideous romantic! Any talk of island natives an' o' course he'd figure to stick around a bit. He was straight up here an' on the trail to look for gold!"
Unsurprisingly, Ikuto scoffed. Instantly it looked like he'd lost all interest. Amu heard him mutter something derogatory under his breath and watched as he quickly decided to take up his blade again, hacking ruthlessly at the forest edge. She had to say she didn't blame him, for not a man alive could deny that the former Captain's lust for gold was insatiable. Amu could not help but feel helpless as a flash of purest, polished gold entered her mind, accompanied by the brilliant glitter of clearest crystal, muddied only by the callousness of the Captain's dirty grasp. Her heart ached with longing; her fondness tinged by regret.
Kazuomi's want of treasure was truly legendary. Truly clichéd. Like something out of her mother's storybooks - as tall a tale as any of Yaya's favoured epics - and, perhaps for the first time since she had embarked on this unbelievable journey, Amu like she had fallen into an ancient narrative; as though all of those tales were true, for this place, with it's tropical sands and bloodied history, overshadowed by the diamond sails of the Shining Black as she lingered beyond the shore, was the very embodiment of the pirate life that she had so long learned of, yet never quite believed in full. Her curiosity was piqued. Her attention rapt. There was a breath of sea breeze, rustling quietly through the trees, and the gentle chattering of tropical birdsong, discordant, yet beguiling, and aught else to disturb the welcome hush as Amu, eyes wide and open in awe, whispered;
"And did he find any?"
But Kukai just laughed aloud - as if the very prospect was absolutely preposterous. "Did he? Did he hell!" He burst out. "Nah, not to my knowledge, Hinamori. No doubt he stashed some o' his own cache here, though. Couldn't tell ya where it is, but I got a sneaking suspicion we might find a little something waitin' for us in this safehouse when we find it."
"If we find it." Utau saw fit to throw in. Amu was almost surprised to hear her speak. She'd been so engaged in clearing the path, they'd barely gotten a word out of their quartermaster all day. But Kukai just ignored her. He sighed dramatically;
"Phew! The ol' Cap'n's such a dramatic, that's for sure! I'd wager he went the whole hog an' buried somethin' shiny somewhere. On some far-off desert isle like all the corny ol' legends say. Wanna take bets, lads?"
There were murmurs of approval at this, but these were quickly silenced by a particularly commanding look from their Captain. Heads down, they carried on. Gradually, the path grew steeper again. The stone steps that had marked their way henceforth began to crumble or were utterly lost forever to the forest floor. The creepers seemed to wind their way round every root and rock, but not far off in the distance Amu could hear the unmistakable, much welcome sound of water somewhere beyond the tree trunks. It was 'pitter-patter'-ing somewhere below them where the jungle began to tumble back downwards towards the sea, orchestrating its own symphony about the leaves, forming fine mists wherever they drifted close by. They guessed then that they were walking up alongside the brink of a ridge where the many rivers and streams became waterfalls and ran their way with renewed vigour out towards the delta. But it was near enough half a day's walk before Amu or any of the pirates came across any of these rivers face to face.
At last, as they reached what must have been well over the halfway point to the island's peak, the ground began to level out and finally, after what seemed like an age, the pirates at long last crossed right into the path of a river which ran through a wide clearing roofed by great, thick leaves and lush palm fronds overhead. Crisp and clear, it flowed stronger and noisier than any of the little waterways they'd encountered below the canopy downstream and its banks were marked by sand and fine, red earth despite their elevation from the coast. Nonetheless, the crew were glad for it and Ikuto had them sit and drink and rest their weary souls before moving on.
Acutely aware of how dry her mouth was, Amu threw herself down gladly practically where she stood, perching on a nearby root that slithered out along the water's edge. The pirates passed her by, sheathing their swords and machetes. Here in the clearing, they could see a little ways through the surrounding forest, watching as the water branched off into many streams throughout its course, presumably forming pretty little waterfalls down by the ridge and billowing through the overhanging foliage. Amu might have been taken by its beauty had she not been so uncomfortable - had she not sensed still that something unearthly might have lurked within these trees. But she paid it no mind.
'It's just my imagination'. She told herself. 'Just my imagination.'
And this time, she was almost convinced of it…
"Ah!"
And then cry rang out through the clearing.
Panic rose in her chest. Up ahead, where the running river burst forth from the line of the trees, someone was foundering through the water. Ikuto was racing for them, his cutlass drawn and quick as a flash Amu was at her feet, splashing through the water towards the rest of the crew, the hem of her skirts dragging heavily behind her as she went, muddied as the sediment kicked up beneath her feet. By the time she reached them, the whole troop had gathered and Ikuto was hauling the sodden pirate out of the river. The man was shaking like a leaf, his face white, muttering unintelligibly. In the confusion his cries had disturbed a brood of roosting birds and their feathers cascaded down from the canopy, swirling in the flow of the stream.
But it was then that Amu's foreboding returned.
In the pirate's hand was a wrist. A human wrist. A pure, white break of bone attached to the bundle of fragments that made up the hand. Amu's stomach lurched horribly. The princess could barely manage a gasp before it was dropped back into the water with an almighty 'slosh!', the poor buccan scrambling back as though burned, and as she hitched up the remains of her soggy skirt, gathering with the crew shin-deep in the water, Amu realised that the riverbed was glittering. With every step the pirates caught glimpses and glances of the subtle gleam of gold coin. She nudged one with the tip of her boot.
But that was not all. Ribs. Vertebrae. A fragment of tibia and a broken forearm enshrouded in tatters of ragged brown clothes, rippling and fluttering endlessly in the flow of the water, littered the riverbed.
Slowly, silently, Ikuto knelt and dug his fingertips into the sludge. When he drew away, two dark, empty eye sockets were staring up at them from beneath the water.
A sense of dreadful foreboding, thick and heavy, filled the air of the clearing. Every misgiving in Amu's mind crashed down upon her anew all at once. It was as if the events of the previous night were pressing in - weighing down upon her mind. It was like being trapped - hopeless and defenceless - back in the dark of her cabin ere sunrise. Suddenly every sound was sinister; every rustle and crack and creak of the trees as they swayed in the breeze became sentient - as though the wild spirit of the jungle had awoken. There were things running rampant and alive in the bushes, ready to strike and see to it that they met an end as ultimately and abruptly as the remainder of the person before them.
The trees; the birds; the fresh, familiar scent of the sea air… They all felt like an illusion. A trick. A mirage in the desert-
The pirates were frantically whispering;
"This place can't be safe!"
"How could he have died?"
"I mean, he couldn't've starved-"
There was a pause then. Their voices had peaked and then hushed, leaving naught but the silence to consume them. No, he couldn't have starved, Amu thought. A moment passed before anyone found the will to speak up.
"Could he have washed up from somewhere?"
"No…" Amu found herself saying, eyes fixed on this watery grave, unable to tear herself away. "Not when it happens to be so complete."
Everyone silently agreed. Ikuto was still examining the body. He knelt, reaching for a fragment when one of the pirates piped up;
"Woah, woah, woah-!" They said urgently, one hand outstretched. "Don't you go disturbin' them spirits! Nasty vengeful, they can be!"
"The dead can be mighty wrathful." Yaya added in, nodding her head as seriously as anyone had ever seen.
There were murmurs at this - whispers of agreement. Someone had their hands clasped in prayer. Others looked to up the sky. But Ikuto rose, his features blank.
"He's dead." He said. "The dead don't come back." And then, with a resigned sort of note; "Fill up your skins and move on."
Reluctantly, the pirates all exchanged looks. Some looked ready to press on, securing their water skins to their belts and taking up their blades, when it happened.
Trees began to rustle - the breeze picked up; the leaves parted-
There was a cry - "Spirits!"
Pistols were drawn, swords brandished-
And then, just as quickly as it had come, the feeling dissipated.
In a flurry of feathers and with an almighty squawk, the culprit burst forth into the sky and was gone.
Ikuto shook his head, breathless. He sheathed his cutlass. "It's just a bloody parrot."
All around were white and frightened faces. Amu put her hand on her heart as if it would calm its frantic tempo. Feathers were fluttering to the ground.
'Just a parrot…'
And on they went.
~.~.~
The jungle was lush, the air cooling, as they tarried on amongst the trees. The day had worn on slowly and, though it was not quite sunset, the afternoon brought a smattering of clouds about the isle's interior which shielded the pirates from the worst of the sun. All about them were little streams - tributaries running about the forest floor towards the main branch of the river they'd left behind - and insects were busy flitting about the blooming vines that sprung from the dampened soil.
In little groups the pirates carved their way through the complex canopy, wielding their blades with less fervour than they had at the start of the day. There was no whispering or jesting or light-hearted tunes. In fact, it was as if nightfall was already upon them, for the men pushed forth as if til-toeing through the dark, wary of whatever might be disturbed in their wake.
"Yaya's still worried about whoever we found downstream…" Yaya whispered then, casting Amu a fretful sort of look. Her eyes were still as wide as ever, but they held an alarm unbefitting of such a usually carefree girl.
Amu had to admit she shared the feeling, as did the rest of the crew, but so far none of them had felt brave enough to voice their fears. She thought perhaps she was right to have been fearful now - felt that perhaps that sense of dread and foreboding had not been for nothing, for still she saw that glitter of gold on white bone when she closed her eyes; felt the eyes of the jungle peer through the bush; sensed its watchful presence press in all around them.
The mood after that was understandably subdued.
There had been no chatter nor song (even Yaya had piped down unusually and had instead intently focused on her task of foraging) and so, as the day wore on, after much sweat and blood and toil (for they'd all been scratched and stung by creepers by this point, not to mention the biting insects, the bloody things) - Kukai was still shaking having come across a live snake in his path - they finally saw it.
Through the trees up ahead - for they must have been coming close to the highest peaks and summits of the isle by now - the uneven ground eased and the stones beneath their feet turned to springy earth and lush grass until the jungle gave way entirely to a concealed clearing, overhung by vines and, most curiously, paved by carved, weathered slabs of stone.
Tucked and slumped under the weight of flowering creepers, Ikuto was the first to step forth into what appeared to be an arrangement of standing stones. About waist high, some were half-collapsed and overwhelmed by regrowth. Others stood near up to his line of vision. Whether the remains of columns or archways or of ancient walls, they did not know, but what they did know was that in its centre, stood perfectly amidst all the rest, there remained what was undoubtedly some kind of altar.
Still stained red and gold with pigment, covered by motifs and carvings that they did not recognise, the pirates stared upon it and were at once hushed under the influence of awe and trepidation.
Ikuto kicked back a trail of loose creepers that had been crawling across the stone floor and a bronze-coloured face stared up at him amongst the flagstones.
"This has been here for… centuries…"
One by one the pirates picked their way into the ruins. Amu's neck strained as she followed the thin beams of sunlight trailing in from above the canopy. Something was hooting softly overhead. Enchanted and bewildered, as though stepping back through the passage of time, Amu wandered through the ancient stone, brushing gently past a curtain of fine vines as she followed the edge of the clearing. The space continued. And, as the princess turned back, her breath was caught to see that here the jungle retreated, for they were stood on the very lip of a great ridge and through the gap between the trunks they could see the foliage fall away - down, down, down all the way to the blue of the sea. The lush, dark tops of the tropical canopy swayed in the breeze, punctuated here and there by bright, wild blooms. Here and there birds burst through the rooftops and cartwheeled joyously through the sky and, far beyond, Amu's eye was caught by the dazzling glitter of the sun upon the rolling waves. Way out there, bobbing amidst the blue, there was a smudge of black. The Shining Black was but a pinprick, lost to the ocean, but Amu thought now and then that she saw her white diamond still shone clear.
The crew were lifted by the breeze, fresh and rejuvenating here atop the jungle… Or, at least, all save a few. Out of the quiet, Amu caught a whisper between two men;
"I'll bet ya anythin' the ol' Cap'n stirred it up!"
Ikuto appeared out of nowhere, his arms folded across his chest. He didn't even have to say anything. Most of the group were staring at them now in question. The pirate looked cautiously over his shoulders, as though afraid anything might appear from the trees at any moment. He opened his mouth. Then closed it again.
"Y-You-You know…"
And, when no one answered;
"The spirits!"
"Oh, for God's sake." Utau spat loudly, twirling her cutlass in her grasp and marching past the old altar. Pirates were a notoriously superstitious lot, but this was obviously too much for her. "Pull yourself together, man. Dead and gone is all spirits are."
But, even though her voice held firm and her words true, Utau's knuckles where white on the hilt of her blade. Something shadowy was creeping into the bright light of her gaze. Amu realised at once the unmistakable mark of a woman on edge, hiding herself behind a façade of forced bravery. Yet, although it was unusual to see their quartermaster so out of sorts, the sight almost made Amu glad. It was slightly comforting to think that perhaps her anxiety was shared with another.
"A-Ha!"
At that moment, a roar of triumph echoed against the wall of the jungle, erupting from a little way further where the trees began to regroup. Without a word the pirates followed the sound, thanking silently the natives who had long ago lain these semi-even flagstones, and, bursting through the trees, were greeted by the most remarkable sight. More unexpected and welcome than their glimpse of the sea or the sight of the ship or even that of the crumbling ruins that surrounded the ancient altar, for, tucked away and half-swallowed by the reclaim of the forest, the group of pirates found themselves staring upon a cabin. A wooden cabin. Old and roughly-built, with naught for a door and a half-collapsed roof of straw, but a hut nonetheless.
Utau looked speechless. "It can't be…"
It was. Amu almost hesitated to step any closer to Kazuomi's makeshift storehouse, for the whole thing was damp and rotten, slumped haphazardly to one side against a rocky outcrop, but apparently there were already men inside. She could hear them, their loud bootsteps rebounding off of walls that had heard nothing but silence for nigh on decades.
"The ol' bastard!"
Ikuto ducked urgently into the cabin only to find Kukai grinning from ear to ear, knee-deep in a patch of upturned earth behind an old barrel of which there were stacks - up against the walls, overturned in the dirt, half-trashed and strewn to pieces across the floor… And, between his fingertips, he held up an old, weathered guinea. He laughed victoriously.
"I told ya he'd've buried it! C'mere!"
True to his word, Kukai stepped aside and as he ran his hands through the soil innumerable spots of gold sprang up from the dirt.
Ikuto smirked mischievously. "Well then fill your boots!" He said. "Imagine the look on that old dog's face when he comes back to an empty cache."
And, still smirking, he scooped up a handful of coins from the dirt and stuffed them into his pockets for good measure, revelling in the notion that he could rob his stepfather in broad daylight without consequence, pausing only to glance back through the doorway - back out into the jungle clearing and out upon the sea beyond.
And then a snap. The crunching of twigs on the forest floor.
The Captain froze.
Despite the apparent stillness, a vine was swaying languidly across the way, catching lightly on the leaves.
Ikuto shrugged.
It was probably another parrot.
~.~.~
The perimeter was marked by a line of haphazardly-placed lanterns - each gleaming softly in rusty, bronze hues as the firelight danced within. Amu watched them dancing weakly like fair folk made of flame - caged; ensnared; trapped behind glass and trailing up the walls in search of freedom. Some had already given up, their smouldering wicks glowing like fireflies in the darkness. Most of the lanterns were broken anyway. They'd found them inside Kazuomi's old storehouse, scattered about the ground alongside all manner of other useless things. They'd found powder and a few small flintlocks, but they'd long become sodden and worthless in the humidity. There'd been a few cutlasses, but the climate had reduced their blades to rust and some had fractured, falling apart as dust on the wind upon handling. Most curious of all, Kukai had said he'd found fragments of what appeared to be stone relics half-dug into the dirt, chiselled and worn in the same geometric style that had been translated across all other ancient artefacts they'd uncovered on their trek so far, but the pirates weren't overly interested in anything that didn't have a shine to it or anything that couldn't be stashed away and kept safe inside their coin pouches.
In fact, it was a wonder that the cabin was still standing after their lot had raided through it. Amu had eyed it warily, not trusting the half-decrepit building to collapse down around them almost immediately, but even now as the darkness closed in around them the cabin still stood. She could almost feel it's presence - could almost sense the gaping, dark abyss of its empty frames and hollow windows yawning back at her as she tentatively glanced back in its direction.
Amu trod warily along the boundary of their little camp, away from the corner in which the storehouse stood. There were perhaps ten broken lanterns scattered about, perched on the remainders of ruins and roots and bits of fallen trunk, all illuminated orange against the jungle floor. There was all sorts of detritus here - all sorts of things hidden in the dark to trip on unawares and if you were very unlucky, all kinds of tiny, dusty mounds poking up wherever the stones retreated, all filled with fiery, biting insects that brought the skin out in great, bulbous bitemarks when disturbed. But, at the very least, Amu was grateful that they had light and especially here, for beyond their encampment they knew that the land dropped away suddenly, the edge of the ridge overshadowed and perilously masked by the unforgiving, cold shadow of night. Had it not been for such precautions, no one would have been able to see so much as their hands in front of their face, but, luckily, behind her Amu could see that the light was growing and their campfire strengthening as more men returned from the surrounding jungle with what few pieces of precious drywood they could find.
It was far too dangerous to try to return to the ship after nightfall. It would be both perilous and foolish beyond belief to think of navigating the path downhill with all it's sudden dips and dives and the unrelenting resistance of the vines and the creepers and all the thorny, stinging weeds that lay cloaked in the undergrowth.
Instead then, Amu stood before the ridge, trying to make out what little she could of the island and the treetops and the inky sea far beyond as the midnight hour drew ever closer. There was no moon that night - not even the faintest hint of starlight to glisten upon the waters, for just before sunset the sky had become sheeted by cloud. What few, persistent spirits high up in the sky peeked through were quickly smothered and here, far beneath, Amu stared up into the depths of the night and prayed for but a sliver of starlight or the faintest glow of the moon to light their way, for she had rarely ever felt in such great need of it as she did then. The air was still - still as though this whole island was somehow holding its breath… Yet every so often there came a rustling from the darkness. A stirring. The immovable impression that the very forest lay in wait…
"Rest."
Utau's voice was barely audible, but Amu heard it nonetheless as their quartermaster came up beside her. She barely snapped a twig as she moved quietly towards the boundary line, her gaze never leaving the rippling shadow of the jungle's edge as she peered through the gloom. As she spoke, the breeze picked up. Amu watched with chills wracking down her spine as the wide fronds shivered - shivered and quaked as though something unseen skulked behind them…
Amu's heart thumped.
'It's just the wind.' She told herself. 'Just the wind.'
"Utau-"
"I'll take the night watch." Utau interrupted, glancing over at what little she could see of Amu's pale face. "You should rest."
Amu was almost speechless. Almost. If it hadn't been for the state of nervousness that she just couldn't shake, she might have been flattered. She laughed nervously; "I don't think I could sleep anyway."
Utau looked like she understood. There was a pause. A lull in the breeze. And then;
"Aren't you worried?"
It was but a whisper, yet Amu's voice sounded weak and pitiful even unto her own ears. But Utau didn't reply. Her lips were pursed in a little white line, grim and stony across her face. Her brows were furrowed, as though locked deep in disturbing thoughts and from the first Amu could tell that her thoughts and fears mirrored her own. Her mind travelled back to their first night in the jungle - to the shadow; that undefinable thing…
But, finally, Utau shrugged.
"There's nothing to be afraid of."
From the tone of her voice, the princess could tell that that was that. Utau had already turned away, resolutely staring out through the gap in the trees. She would say no more, therefore, reluctantly, the Amu turned away from the ridge, her skin still crawling, her mind still ill at ease. She returned to their makeshift campfire, unable to shake the feeling that they'd just committed some sort of taboo; as if it were their duty to pack up immediately and flee far away from this place, for with every passing minute the darkness seemed to grow; seemed to gather and strengthen in every nook and hollow from here to the edge of the island. She picked her way across the clearing, following the lanterns religiously, for somehow they felt to her to be a vigilant guard - a barrier, if you will - that kept their clearing pure and banished all else back into the realm of the trees. Even as she neared the fire, Amu couldn't take her eyes from them.
The unsettling nagging in the back of her head just worsened at the very thought.
'What nonsense!'
"Here, Ya Maj'sty!" Luckily for Amu, Yaya's chipper tone brought her firmly back to reality. Their cook was as bright-eyed and bushy-tailed as ever, apparently recovered from their earlier encounter down at the river and currently dealing out provisions to each member of the crew as they all prepared to hunker down for the night. "Here y'are, Ya Maj'sty," the girl broke away from the crowd just as she approached. She beckoned the princess to sit with her, gesturing to the pile of produce at her feet which she was diligently chopping up into quarters. "Sup up!" Yaya implored. "Yaya found these in a thicket o'er yonder by the ridge!"
The odd-shaped lump spread out on the leaves turned out to be macerated guava, clumsily cut, but in the dim light Amu could see that they were beautifully ripe; pink and juicy and thirst-quenching. Almost enough to bring back her appetite. She took it, thanking her quietly and sitting uncomfortably on a rough piece of fallen stone, though she didn't think she felt settled enough to eat. She took a bite out of politeness, but nothing more.
"Oi! Kukai! Come an' get a taste for this!"
Kukai practically bounded over to join them, his pockets so full of ill-gotten gains that they jingled and jangled with every step he took. His face was positively beaming. "Fantastic! Somethin' better than tack an' stinky ol' fish!"
Amu rolled her eyes. True, their diet since they'd started their journey might have been dull and Musashi's generous gift of 'gently fermented' fish might have made their eyes water, but it wasn't as if he had to voice his opinions so freely. Karma soon put him in his place though as he quickly found himself sprawling face-down on the ground, his foot caught tightly in an upturned root.
A little way off near the main ruins, Ikuto shook his head. "Idiot."
In the dark, Amu heard Utau snicker. Kukai ignored them, scrambling to catch his fallen loot as the pirates all bellowed and jeered around them and the camp settled into a sort of lull after that, but, whether rightfully so or not, Amu couldn't help but maintain the impression that this calm was deceiving - as though it were but the calm before some great calamity. Briefly, she wondered if the others could feel her mistrust. It didn't seem that way, she thought, as she cast her eyes over her companions who, for the most part, were all casually seated around the fire.
But, then again… The mood was distinctly subdued. Her mind unwillingly took her back to all that this island had dealt them so far. In her mind's eye, Amu saw the faded gleam of the submerged pistols; the skeleton submerged in the riverbed… The shadowed figure amidst the trees…
Though, now that she looked harder, Amu was starting to feel sure that she wasn't alone. Now that she looked harder, Kukai's eyes kept darting into the undergrowth. The men's chatter was unusually limited to but the barest of whispers. Behind them, Ikuto was forever glancing warily at the old altar, chewing thoughtfully on the remainders of a guava rind and looking half as though he just wanted to tear himself away for good, yet for some inexplicable reason he could not. He lingered, near blending into the shadow of the trees, and stalked the edge of the ancient stone structure, pausing now and then. Listening. Looking out for none knew what…
Amu peered out warily into the unknown - into the deep, dense dark of the jungle - and in her head she could have sworn then that she heard the chanting of island natives. The cry of their battles. The beating of their hearts. The screaming and wailing and rhythmic drumming as they in ancient days performed upon this place of worship the kind of rituals known only in the world today through the tales of past adventurers; through myths of old and rumours passed over light of campfire.
But what rituals?
Magic? Vodun? Idolatry?
Truly those were things that Amu had only heard of through pirate song; in the antiquated legends of long-gone explorers of old and in their weathered, dusty tomes, abandoned and forgotten at the back of her mother's bookshelves; even from Yaya as she spouted her favourite maritime stories as she strolled along the jungle path. Such things were old. Truly old and lost from memory… But, even now, Amu wondered, her eyes lingering still on the red-smattered altar and the blank bronze faces, whether something of it still remained. Whether echoes still rang out through the night… Whether the spirit of the jungle truly lived…
Her skin prickled. Suddenly she felt too close to the ancient altar. Amu tried not to look back at it as she shuffled closer beside the fire.
'Spirits, huh?'
Amu glanced up. Yaya was feasting merrily on her own helping of fruit. She bit her lip.
"Hey, Yaya," Amu piped up, bolder and louder than any of them had ever dared spoken so far. Kukai paused in conversation with another pirate to earwig on her. Utau, so caught up in maintaining a stance of constant vigilance, shot her a petrifyingly stern glare. On the outer rim of the clearing, Ikuto stopped in his pacing to peer curiously back at their little gathering through the darkness. Unperturbed, Amu went on;
"What else have you heard about the isles this far south?" She asked. "Were there truly tribes here? I've heard nothing of such tales."
Yaya looked positively thrilled. "But o' course!" She beamed. "All the way up to the last hundred years! Pity a lot o' them were wiped out in the Age of Exploration, but there'd be a few still lingerin' on far-off shores, Yaya's certain."
"What about that?" Amu gestures to the ruins behind them. "Did any of them build structures like that? What do you think they'd have done with it?"
"Well, if ya ask Yaya, she'd agree that any altar such as that over yonder would have to be for some serious strange practices, it would!" Yaya proclaimed. The girl was in her element, tucked away here amongst the material ruins of the fairy tales she so admired. She was positively glowing even as she continued; "Mighty heavy into the occult, they were! Superstition an' rituals of all sorts! Spellcasting and curses and, well, Yaya suspects some ancient ceremonies as well!"
Amu was perched on the edge of her seat, her eyes glowing in the light of the fire, her curiosity mounting…
Amu was almost hesitant to utter her next words.
"As in… Like a sacrifice?"
The clearing went quiet. Amu let out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding. Yaya opened her mouth, took a deep breath and prepared herself to launch into a lengthy explanation-
When it happened.
Something shifted in the corner of her vision.
Suddenly, Amu felt as though there came some great swell of energy from beneath the trees - a shockwave; a mounting crescendo set to shatter the deceiving calm; something seemed to swoop in the shadows-
And then, in a single, petrifying moment, the fire pit went out.
The pirates found themselves engulfed by the night.
For a moment the cacophony of panic drowned out all else. But, almost as if by instinct, Amu found herself looking up through the trees. There was no moon. Nor stars to illuminate upon their predicament… And, forgetting all else, she was overwhelmed by the feeling of hopelessness.
Out from the darkness, someone screamed.
~.~.~
A/N: Fun game: take a shot for every plant-related word repeated in this fic. There's only so many ways to describe a jungle. But I really wanted to get the atmosphere right because this was my favourite island to plan and write about. I wanna visit this place...
Or do I?
We'll see.
Til next time ~