Song of the Sea

Chapter Five: The Island

"I'm fine, Diane. Just let me get up," said Jack for the fifteenth time that morning.

"No. Absolutely not, I don't want you collapsing on me again," she replied obstinately, but not without a slight smile. Even the great Jack Sparrow can be very stupid at times, she thought sardonically.

"But my crew--what if they can't find the island? I need to be up there, please, love, I'm absolutely fine and I need to be up on deck." He attempted an innocent expression, which failed miserably.

"Don't give me that rubbish. You told me that there's a compass that points right at it, how on earth could they get lost? And don't call me 'love'." Jack raised his hands in mock defeat and slumped back on his pillows. "I'm not trying to be annoying or fussy or anything. Hypothermia does odd things to the body, and you need rest if you don't want to pass out again." She passed him a mug of mulled, spiced wine. He sipped at it gratefully, not saying much as he finished his breakfast. Diane curled up in her chair, rereading an extremely rare copy of Le Morte d'Arthur for the fifth time.

"Most normal people don't read as much as you do. That's just unnatural," said Jack with his usual sardonic good humor. She very childishly stuck her tongue out at him.

"Well, I guess I'll have to get used to being unnatural, won't I?" She would never admit it, but the bickering between herself and the captain was now more like friendly banter, each challenging the other to come up with something more cutting. "And isn't face makeup unnatural for men?"

"I resent that, Diane. That was cruel and uncalled for, and I am now deeply hurt," he said in an overly cheerful tone. She snickered slightly behind her book.

"I see. Does Captain Jack Sparrow want a hug and a kiss?" He gave her a mock-insulted look and both of them burst into chortles. Just then, the door burst open and Parker walked in. He nodded to Diane, then headed over to where Jack was propped up on his pillows.

"Cap'n, sir. There's a merchant ship on the horizon, on our port side. Should we try to contact her?"

"A merchant ship...hmmm. I'll take a closer look at her," he said, and made to get up, but Diane pulled out her wand and pointed it at him.

"Oh, no, you won't. Not if I have anything to say about it, Cap'n." He scowled at her, but sullenly complied.

"You could cut the irony with a knife--the pirate captain being held hostage by his own hostage," he said acidly. "Very well, Parker. Don't contact the ship for now, just put up a warning signal. Head for the island, and do nothing unless she gets too close. And tell Gibbs to bring up the chests."

"Aye aye, Cap'n Sparrow." With a slight bow and a wink to Diane, Parker headed out of the room. Jack seemed none too happy about being stuck below decks, and looked as though he had half a mind to dash out after his crew member. He took another wary glance at her wand, though, and seemed to think better of it. She stuck the wand back in her pocket and began reading again where she'd left off. He said nothing, but she had a sneaking feeling that he was about to tell her off any minute.

Sure enough, he opened his mouth to speak a few minutes later, but before he could say anything, she cut him off. "There's no point in telling me off. You know as well as I do that you need rest."

He looked hurt for a moment. "I wasn't about to tell you off!" he said indignantly. "I--I just wondered if you could read to me." Diane stared at him for a moment, then opened her mouth without thinking.

"What? You can't read?" she said incredulously. He didn't flush, or look embarrassed at he shook his head.

"Never bothered learning how. Once you've got gold, a ship, and the open sea, who needs to read?" Jack grinned, showing his gold teeth. "Of course, rare books are very valuable and there's plenty who would pay much for them."

"You're hopeless, but I'll read to you, if you like," said Diane lightly. She flipped back to the beginning of the book and soon began reading about the legend of King Arthur. She told of the wizard Merlin, who(in this Muggle account) became an advisor to King Aurelius, Uther Pendragon, and his famous son Arthur. The story of Uther Pendragon and the Duchess Ygerna seemed to come to life as she told of her imprisonment and Merlin's deceptive magic, allowing Uther to sneak into the castle. Diane stopped reading and paused for a drink, Jack watching her intently.

"And--isn't there more?" he said. His eyes were bright and he was leaning forward. She'd never seen him so absorbed, except when he was gazing out over the sea.

"I won't be able to read aloud if I don't get something to drink," she said sardonically, and flicked her wand, shooting a stream of icy water into her mouth. "So," she said after three more gulps, "enjoyable so far?"

"Amazing. Interesting how these old philosopher men can come up with such rich English mythology."

"It's not old philosophers. There's a good deal of folklore in this as well," she said absently. Diane took another gulp of water and went on, "And most of it's just Muggle waffle. Merlin wasn't the son of a demon, nor did he build Stonehenge."

"How do you know that?" demanded Jack. She rolled her eyes at him in mock-exasperation.

"Maybe, just maybe, because I'm a witch?" she said sardonically. A little bit of color highlighted his cheeks and he mumbled something. "Like I was saying, Merlin was just a normal man. But, he was probably the first magician to harness his own abilities so successfully, with the use of a wand...actually, a staff, but it made him more powerful than any wizard before him. And Stonehenge was built long before Merlin was born."

"Don't spoil the rest of the story for me. Just keep on reading."

"Aye aye, Captain," she said with a wink, and dived again into the world in King Arthur. The light streaming through the window was turning crimson and Diane's voice was nearly spent when she finally stopped reading. I know my vocal chords are going to KILL tomorrow, she thought sardonically as she put Le Morte d'Arthur down, but it didn't bother her too much. She too had been spellbound by the legends and tales, and didn't really want to stop. However, her throat had other ideas, so she shot more icy water down her throat and started out of the cabin.

"Oh, Diane?" said Jack just as her foot was out of the door.

"Yes?" she said hoarsely.

"Don't destroy your voice, savvy? I'd hate for you to lose the spells and such, not to mention your absolutely wonderful reading," he said, eyes dancing with mischief. "I can't handle this ship all by me onesies while I'm stuck in bed."

"Aye aye, Captain Jack Sparrow," she said, and with a mock bow, left the room. She hurried up on deck, knowing that she was going to pay the price for working magic when she was so tired. She was so preoccupied about the amount of fix-up work she would have to do that she nearly collided with Gibbs.

"Sorry," she mumbled, and made to sidestep him, but he blocked her way.

"How be Jack?" he asked urgently.

"He's fine," she said absently, then she noticed the anxious tone in Gibbs' voice. A sense of foreboding swept across her mind, but she told the feeling to stuff it. "What seems to be the problem?" A shadow slid rapidly across the middle-aged pirate's face and he looked much more disturbed than she'd ever seen him.

"In all honesty, lass, I don't rightly know. Come see for yerself." He led her up the stairs and out onto the deck. The crimson sunset bathed the deck of the Pearl in bloodred light, but it felt oddly surreal somehow. She followed Gibbs to the bow to the ship--and nearly fell over. She clutched at his arm for support and drew her wand, slowly advancing.

The figurehead of the ship had been blasted off, and Diane immediately recognized the scorch marks as being from a wand. It had been replaced by a shield, which wouldn't be all that menacing...if not for the brand on the shield; an amorphous, ever-shifting dragon that looked as though it had been drawn in dripping blood. In fact, blood was dripping from the shield and into the water of the ocean. Her stomach churned as she whipped out her wand and muttered the Reductor Curse. It took nearly six spells to blast the gruesome thing off, and when it touched the water, it melted into curls of red smoke.

Gibbs stared at her in high astonishment, then concern as she stumbled over to the side of the ship and lost her dinner. "Miss? Are you alright?" he asked tentatively. Diane didn't reply until the heaves had stopped. She weakly wiped her mouth and turned back to him, pale-faced and shaking with fear.

"Where are we headed right now?"

"Isla de Muerta, Miss," he replied, looking alarmed.

"Does anyone else know of this island?"

"No, Miss. Only the crew of this ship, and the Turners in Port Royal." She nodded and hurried back downstairs, all the fixing work forgotten. A sick, cold swoop of fear landed in her stomach--surely, surely it couldn't be? It wouldn't be! How could he have reached the ship when it was this far out to sea? But what about the storm? Her magic hadn't worked correctly against it, and it was certainly sudden and abrupt...it all made sense. Purely terrifying sense. So he was back--and he was out to get her...she dropped to the floor, the memories overflowing in her head.

A man stood in front of the white cliffs with utter hatred and contempt in his eyes for the older man who lay at his feet, bound and bleeding. The tortured man raised his head.

"Why, Solomon? I raised you. I--"

"Crucio!" The old man's yells filled the night air, and a savage pleasure flitted across the younger man's pale face. He kept his wand there for nearly a minute before jerking it upwards. The old man collapsed, shaking, his face contorted with agony.

"Why, old fool? Let me ask you the same question," said Solomon in a voice of deadly cold. "Why did you leave the inheritance to the bastard I called a brother? Why did you not school me in my art? Why did you not tell me what I am?" He subjected the old man to the Cruciatus Curse again, laughing insanely as he hollered again, twitching and shuddering. The blood-curdling screams drowned out the gasp of a ten-year old girl as she watched what was unfolding before her eyes. She dashed out from behind an outcropping of jagged rock, running for the village.

Neither of the men noticed her, and the old one spoke again. "I wanted to protect you, my son. I didn't want you exposed to something that you couldn't control."

The pale man's face contorted with rage. "I am not your son! I am not your son, as you full well know! And I had these powers as a birthright, one that I nearly lost to your meddling and mollycoddling."

He raised his wand yet again. "Good bye, Silenus. You protected no one, and preserved nothing."

"Solomon--son--"

"Avada Kedavra, you filthy bastard." A flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound cut the old man's plea from his lips. When the green light subsided, he was dead, an expression of betrayal etched into every line of his face, and an eternal plea for mercy frozen on his open lips. Solomon smiled grimly, and pointed his wand yet again at the old man's heart, but before he could say anything--

"Expelliarmus!" Caught off guard, he felt his wand fly out of his hand and whipped around. Four men, four men from the village were standing there, along with a ten-year-old little girl. The tallest of the four men raised his wand. "Locomotor Mortis!" His legs snapped together, frozen, and he overbalanced, falling onto the corpse of the old man.

He looked up at his captors, face contorted with rage and a great wave of fury rising within him. He recognized the man who'd disarmed him as one Adrian Whitten, and the girl as his niece, Diane. How did they know? How had they--comprehension dawned on him as his eyes fell upon the little girl. She had seen him, and run for help.

"You bastards!" he howled, spit flying from his mouth. "I'll get you for this, you'll pay for this!" A stream of mixed swear words and curses fell from his thin lips as they tied him up and levitated him into the air.

"Watch your mouth," said Whitten coldly. "There's a lady here."

"You little bitch! I'll kill you for this, I'll KILL you! You'll regret that you ever--" A Silencing Charm was cast on him, and he suddenly felt his vocal chords stop working. He continued to mouth grievances for Diane Whitten as the dementors were summoned to escort him to Azkaban. The last thing he heard before he was Stunned was the soft sobbing of the little girl.

She watched, sobbing in fear, as the dementors came close and took Solomon Annon away to jail--she'd never liked either him or dementors at the best of times. Her uncle held her protectively to his chest, feeling her little body shake with sobs. "Don't worry, Princess. He won't be back. He'll never hurt you. I'll make sure he never lays a finger on you," he said soothingly, while a dark shadow crept across his heart. There was nothing for it--Diane could no longer stay in England whilst that man was here.

With a titanic effort, she pulled herself to the present, no longer the self-assured young woman that she looked on the outside. On the inside, she was just as scared right now and fragile as that little girl had been, and Diane realized that her shoulders were heaving with quiet sobs, as they had done nine years ago. And I thought he was gone, that it was all over...

She forced herself to her feet and headed toward the captain's quarters, very aware of the fact that she was shaking all over. She'd never felt so frightened in her entire life, but somewhere in her fearful thoughts, she heard something that both her father and her uncle used to tell her.

"Don't let fear master you. When the fear comes, master it, instead of letting it consume you."

"When the fear comes, master it," she whispered softly. She took several deep, calming breaths. "Instead of letting it consume you." Diane bit her lip and steeled herself to walk through the door and tell Jack everything that had happened tonight, everything that could happen tomorrow.