Song of the Sea

Chapter Nine: The Secrets

Diane gingerly reached for the little book; it hadn't burned her before, so why should it now? She held her quivering fingertips out to it and gently brushed the cover. A sensation ran up her arm like flame, hitting her straight in the heart. She gasped and withdrew her hand, and Jack clenched her shoulder. It was a few seconds before she realized that the sensation was warm; almost friendly, as though the book was greeting her. "I think it recognizes me or something," she said quietly.

"Didn't seem like it to me. Or were you just being bloody skittish?" said Jack dryly, looking askance at the book.

"Shut up." She reached out again, this time confidently, and when her hand closed around the cover, nothing happened, except the odd sensation of the cover seeming to mold to her fingers. She flinched a bit but pulled the book into her hands and cracked it open, flipping through the pages. It seemed just as it had when she'd first opened it, except that now, an even, firmly flowing script filled the delicate pages. Diane looked at Jack, who simply shrugged. She carefully opened it to the first page and read:

Wizard who has stumbled on these pages,

Witness the cruel powers of Dark Mages

Curses and spells for the dead I hold,

But no countercuse for these has been told.

Beware of what results you intend,

For means are not justified by end.

Wizardling, now you shall learn the truth,

A price is paid for eternal youth.

The block of text was set in the middle of the very first page, with no title page, no chapters, and no summary of the book; it looked more serious than any of the spellbooks she'd ever seen. The letters were in black ink, and yet they seemed to shine from an infinite depth. She shuddered a little at the ominous rhyme, but she didn't let go of the book.

"I know one thing about that. I never looted that from anyone," said Jack, looking at the volume with immense distrust. "It doesn't even look like English to me."

"Well, you said you can't read," said Diane impatiently, wanting to get back to the book.

"I know, but English doesn't use that kind of script. I recognize letters, and those aren't letters of ours as far as I can see." He was looking at the page with a kind of puzzlement, then he transferred the puzzled look to her. "Did you ever take any foreign languages?"

"What are you talking about? That's English. I can read it perfectly well," she replied, as puzzled as he was. There were the words, in plain script that she could read with absolute clarity. Then, the idea suddenly dawned upon her; only wizards could read from this book.

"It's another one of your hidey-hole spells, isn't it? So that I can't read it?"

"Just what I was thinking." She read the first page to him, and his dark brown eyes widened with surprise. "Seems to me that this thing teaches necromancy, but not countering it."

"Well, that's just what we need. How long does it take you to learn all that?"

"Are you an idiot?!" she said incredulously. " 'Beware of what results you intend,

for means are not justified by end.' I can't just go running around turning dead people into my slaves!

There's bound to be some punishment for all this." She cracked the book open and started to read. The first few pages seemed to simply reiterate the warnings of the first page, so she skipped to what seemed to be the first in a series of lists of materials and spells. Looking down at the page, she groaned with exasperation. Most of these spells and ingredients for potions were completely unheard of, and the ones that she knew took simply too much time and energy to learn. She summarized the situation to Jack, who shook his head and sighed.

"How long will it take you to learn all that stuff?"

"Several weeks, if I'm lucky. I guess knowing how this stuff works will help us avoid any more traps, but there's not much I can do against it." She sighed and flipped the pages backward until she reached a section titled Theory of Necromancy.

Spells and Potions, although useful, ultimately matter little in the ancient Art. It is difficult for a wizard to be born with the talent for Necromancy, but wizards who have demonic blood are especially gifted; one of the abilities of a demon is controlling bodies other than its own. Those with demonic heritage tend to inherit at least some of the abilities to master Necromancy.

In order for a Practitioner to achieve any real power, they need brute forces. These people, Muggle or Wizard, living or Dead, all must be under the full sway of the Necromancer. In general, it is advisable for a Practitioner to use Dead servants, which do not have the ability to resist mind control. Should a Practitioner choose to use living servants, they must be weak of mind. Depending on the natural talent for the Art, a Practitioner can be hundreds of miles from the servants and still maintain control.

Since mind control is all that is really required for control over the Dead, a Practitioner must first obtain bodies. Whether living or Dead, eye to eye contact is required for the control to initially be placed. Corpses must be intact enough to have eye to eye contact, which is why fresh corpses are preferable, since soft flesh rots quickly. Once the control is established, the Practitioner can simply direct the corpse as an extention of his own body. In the case of the living, the original mind must be wiped with Memory Charms before the control can take place. Bear in mind that when the new mind takes over, the old one may still be able to break through the charms.

Diane quickly recounted the page to Jack, who looked utterly revolted and rather frightened at the idea of mind control. "Well, the nutter can't manipulate us, so I guess we're fine, since you need eye contact," he said after the words had sunk in. "It could be worse."

"Not by much. We're pretty much sitting ducks if he decides to attack us out here again with another storm, but docking could be even worse if he has servants with him."

"Well, we can't do much right now. Probably better to get rid of most of those spells first You have the energy to?" asked Jack. Diane sighed. She had to get rid of the spells on the ship, but dragging herself up to do it was simply another matter. For some reason, just reading a few pages of the book had drained her strength. He noticed and tightened his grip on her shoulder. "You don't have to if you can't."

"No, I have to," she said stubbornly. "I could use some help, though." She reached for her wand and looked directly at him. "There's a way for you to give me an energy boost. However, it's something I've never done before."

"Doesn't matter to me as long as you don't drain me too far," said Jack with a little apprehension. She rolled her eyes and gently placed the wand to his lips. "Easy on the spell, lass," he said, eyes widening a little.

"Don't worry. I just need enough for one spell," she said with uncommon gentleness. She pressed the wand first to his lips, then on his Adam's apple. "Navitas Tractus!" Suddenly, a burst of pure energy shot through her wand arm; it felt exactly like the energy from the book, but it flooded her body, seeming to glow from her veins. Diane gasped as the energy increased and increased. "Totalus Finte Incantatem!" A clear dome issued from her wand, engulfing the entire ship for a split second before everything was silent. Jack muttered something and leaned on her, breathing hard.

"Just enough for one spell, eh?" he teased softly, speaking so quietly that she had to lean in even closer to hear him. "Some spell."

"Sorry, Jack," she said apologetically. "But you still have the energy to make fun of me, so you seem ok to me."

He chuckled hoarsely and grinned a little. "Well, I certainly will remember that experience. Never had the energy sucked right out of me like that before." He gave her a bawdy wink; she groaned at the innuendo and pushed him away.

"You're such a scoundrel, Jack. No wonder you're a pirate."

"Huh. Never been called a scoundrel before. I rather like the sound of that; The Scoundrel of the Sea; Captain Jack Sparrow," he said dreamily. She laughed for a moment, then she spotted the black book out of the corner of her eye. She sighed and scooted away from him, but he grasped her shoulder. "Hey--your head's healed."

Diane raised her fingers to the wound, but there was no wound. The bandage slipped off and fell to the floor as she undid it. "Looks like that spell has done me some good." She gently brushed his hand off her shoulder and picked up the book again. As her fingers touched the cover, an odd sensation filled her body; it felt as though the rest of her were dying--all of her but the part of her shoulder that Jack had touched. She forced herself to master the feeling and cracked the book open.

"Easy on yourself, lass. We have plenty of time," said Jack, touching her shoulder again. His hand brushed against her neck and a shot of warmth shot through her body from where his bare skin had touched hers. She flinched a little. "Alright, love. Enough magic for you today."

"But I--"

"I happen to be the captain, and the captain says that the little fairy needs to put the book down and accompany the captain for supper." He pulled her to her feet and winked. He opened the door, but was immediately faced by his crew. "What the hell?" he said in surprise at the faces of his pirates. "What are you doing down here?"

"Something's up, isn't it, Captain?" said Parker suspiciously.

"Whether it is or not is none of your business."

"Ever since that woman came aboard, we've got naught but bad luck. I say that we get rid of her, just in case," growled Gibbs, looking coldly at Diane. She opened her mouth to retort, but Jack stepped protectively in front of her.

"Oh, no. None of you scalawags will lay a finger on her, unless you wish to be lain in your grave." The crew muttered and glared amongst themselves, trying to shoot looks at Diane. She sighed and leaned up against Jack.

"You owe them an explanation, Jack," she said softly, her lips almost brushing his neck. He turned his head in surprise, but he didn't protest. He seemed to think the situation over, then he snapped his fingers.

"I'm having an idea. I'll tell you all what's going on, and you'll help me achieve what I'm after. However, you'll not lay a finger upon Diane. Savvy?"

"The lady goes, Cap'n," said a sailor named O'Myre. Jack gave him a stern look and place his hand upon his sword hilt.

"Next person to say that goes to Davie Jones' locker," he said coldly. "She stays aboard."

"Well, why can't we have any of the action?" whined O'Myre. "Why do you have to keep her to yerself?" Jack scowled at him and half drew his sword.

"Go to the cabin, love. Don't open the door for anyone but me," he said in a low tone to Diane. His voice did not allow any room for argument, and she walked as quickly as possible to the quarters, careful to keep her wand out in case any of the pirates tried anything. She opened the door and collapsed on the bed, the sick feeling that she'd been unconsciously repressing finally breaking out of her in racking sobs. Why? Why did everything have to be this way? She sobbed and sobbed until there were no tears left, only bringing up dry heaves and gulps. Finally, she took a deep, shuddering breath and struggled to master herself. Now was not the time to lose it. She had to think of something to pacify the crew and deal with Solomon.

She didn't even realize that someone was knocking on the door until she heard Jack's voice. "It's me, Diane. I really don't want to kick down my own door."

"Alohomora," she whispered, the simple spell taking much of her energy. Jack walked in and closed the door behind him, tired and wan, but somewhat pleased.

"I told them, and it's about as good as it's going to get--Diane?" He cut off as he saw her lying face down on the bed, her hand hanging over the side with her wand on the floor. He walked over and gently rubbed her back. "Diane, love. It's ok. I got the crew to agree with me." She didn't reply, still forcing herself to lie still and maintain control. He sighed as he felt the tension in her muscles. "Diane. Look at me, girl."

"I'm fine," she said coldly. "I'm fine."

"You don't look fine."

"Just let me rest. Please, Jack. Leave me alone," she whispered into the blankets. She didn't see the slightly hurt expression on his face as he got up and left the room. Diane waited until he was gone before she slid under the blankets and let her drained body and mind carry her off to sleep.

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The moonlight was just starting to fade when she awoke. Jack was lying beside her, a sliver of silver moonlight cutting across his face. His arm was draped protectively around her waist, and his long hair glistened in the pale light. She sighed a bit and gently pushed the hair away from his face. He somehow looked more at peace when his eyes were shut; for the first time, she thought that he looked handsome, in a rougish sort of way.

"You know, most people sleep at this hour," mumbled Jack quietly. She yelped quietly as he grasped her hand and held it to his chest.

"You should talk. You're awake yourself."

"Eh. The moonlight woke me up." His eyes glimmered silver, reminding her unpleasantly of Solomon's eyes. She shuddered and shrank away. "Diane?"

"Sorry," she whispered, but she didn't move any closer to him. "I'm just a little worried about all this."

"Don't worry about the crew. I told them what's going on, and they're ready to rip the nutter apart," he said soothingly, reaching out to stroke her cheek. She hesitated for a moment, then turned away.

"That's exactly what I'm worried about. Rash action's only going to get us into more traps."

Jack scoffed. "Being overly careful never helps a pirate as far as I know. It'll be alright, love. I promise."

"How can you say that?" she said incredulously, turning her face towards him. "How can you even think that?"

"Because I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, love," he whispered, pulling her into his arms. She resisted for a moment, then hesitantly placed her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, and that strange sensation from when he'd shared energy with her flodded her body again. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he kissed her forehead. She tensed as his lips brushed against her bare skin, but he just held her closer. "It'll be alright," he whispered into her hair. "We'll beat the hell out of whoever decides to stand against us."

"I hope you're right," she said as he embraced her. He let go of her for a minute and looked at her intently. Diane found herself blessing the darkness that was hiding the blush in her cheeks.

"You're beautiful when you're not in a temper," he said quietly. She felt herself blush even hotter as he raised a finger to stroke her cheek. "Which is quite rare." He winked a little and moved his hand down to her neckline. "I haven't seen you really laugh since that nuttter started coming after us."

"Most people don't laugh when they know that they're being chased by a madman who can easily make mincemeat out of them," she said dryly. Jack grinned again and tipped her chin up toward him. She gasped a little as he moved closer and closer towards her...

He stopped when their lips were almost touching and said, "That madman won't lay a finger on you if I can help it." She could just catch the moonlight and a star twinkling in his eyes before he gently kissed her. She let out a stifled gasp as he teased her mouth open with his tongue. Diane lost all sensation of anything else as her arms wound around his neck. Slowly, after what seemed like an eternity, he let go of her. She could feel his breathing, uneven and shallow, beating against her skin as he kissed her cheek.

"Jack..." she said quietly, half afraid of what was happening.

"Shh. Don't say anything," he whispered as he leaned in to kiss her again.