Before you begin, we would like to note that this is the 7
th
, and last, part of a story that began with "Shella", and continued through the Black Pearl stories Unity, Plancti, Yrkala, Ochia, and Aurum. You may read them if you wish, but you do not need to. The growth present in the story is not so much the characters' as it is the author's.
* * *
The heavy rain pounded like the knocks of giants and the wind whipped and slashed. Lightning cracked overhead, brilliant bolts appearing in the sky like cracks, then vanishing an instant later. Under the storm, a small rocky isle clung, almost floating and gasping for breath amidst the violent sea. Foaming green waves smashed against rock, as if trying to pull the island into the sea. Amidst the drowning stone spikes, a shipwreck lay, barely above water in the storm and immobile, as jaws of coral and rock had pinned it into place.
The small rowboat that struggled for the ship should not have even floated in the hellish storm, yet barnacle-covered oars still struck and propelled it through raging waves. A lone lantern, faintly giving yellow light and on the verge of destruction, vainly tried to illuminate two cloaked passengers, one rowing with all that he could in the weather. Across the water and through the angry rain it moved, and the waves tossed it time and time again, throwing it closer to the shipwreck as if by fate.
Finally, the rowboat cracked against rock and coral, and waterlogged rope was hastily tied across any secure protrusions the passengers could find. No sane man would have even dared to step outside in weather like this, but they were more than and less than men.
A crusted limb clutched a rock as its owner looked at the wreck. Three broken masts, with torn strips of cloth whipping around and trying to break free. A hull of grey wood cracked open like a shell, with seawater foaming about inside. The cabin was freakishly untouched, its darkened windows not smashed nor with any holes torn through its walls.
The other being grabbed a knotted rope with a hook at its end and whirled it above its head. It let the hook fly, and the hook caught a railing. A sharp tug broke the rotting wood, and the hook dropped into the sea. The thrower dragged the hook back, whirled it around again, and threw it. This time, the hook caught something stony and secure.
The thrower secured the rope to a rock and then climbed it as skillfully as a monkey. One withered hand after another passed each other as it clambered to the deck of the ship. Its feet touched the wooden surface, and it turned around and waved at its companion.
The other being's claws gripped the rope with animalistic tenacity as it swung its legs over the rope and began to shimmy up the rope. Without much effort, even in the storm, it too boarded the wreck.
They turned towards the captain's cabin and shuffled towards it. Around them, coral of all kinds grew twisted on the deck. Gnarled branches rested alongside soft fans almost torn apart in the wind, while rock-like clumps were anchored nearby. Some coral grew over ropes, securing them and making sure they didn't lash about in the storm.
The beings didn't have to knock to request an audience. Before they reached the door, it opened and a woman pointed a rusted gun at them. She was taller than average, and dark-skinned. Green seaweed-like hair lay plastered against her head, while fin-like ears stuck out. Her eyes were green, like the lantern-creatures of the deep. She wore a ragged coat around her body, but it was still plain to see that she was sculpted like a goddess. Large, firm breasts pressed against a heavily torn shirt with a single button. Tight pants, torn at the knee, hugged the swell of her hips and buttocks. Tied around her thin waist, a ripped black flag with skull and crossbones hung to one side. Her feet were uncovered, but they were large and flipper-like. "What d'ya want?" she barked.
The clawed one cracked out, "We are here to extend an invitation to you. We have been informed that you lost something. Our Admiral can give it back to you." Crustaceous plates ran up his arms, and long antennae broke out from his eyebrows. One hand was a crab-like claw.
The woman paused, then lifted the gun away. "Who's your boss, and how can he give her back?" she asked impatiently.
The other being was little more than a genderless withered skeleton. "Our lord," it hissed with missing teeth, "Is the ruler of the depths and king of us damned. He is providence and revengence. Invite him aboard, and then, he can grant you your heart's desire back."
The woman aimed the gun back at the duo. "How do I know this ain't a trick? Who is he exactly? How does he know?" she demanded.
The crabbish one spoke up. "He knows many things, as he is king of the darkness within the ocean. We are but messengers, courtesans if you will, of Davy Jones."
The woman looked back and forth at the two damned beings. "Why should I care? Can't he just bugger off?"
"You are strange, even to us, and it has attracted our lord's attention. Though your heart lies with a more familiar thing, that is gone beyond. But our lord is more powerful than you reckon. Invite him, deal with him, and your thing will be returned in full," said the skeleton.
"She ain't a thing," the woman said.
"It is how you make of it," the skeleton admitted.
The woman stepped out and closed the door behind her. Looking at it, she asked, "Is it the only way?"
"Aye," confirmed the crab-man. "What artifacts in the world that do restore life are ill-suited for your needs, and rarely work in full. Our admiral holds power greater than them, and fishing a soul back, no matter how odd, would be trivial to him."
The woman paused, weighing her options. "How do I invite him?"
"Just call out for him. He hears," the crab-man said.
The woman brushed past the two creatures to stand in the middle of the deck, almost ignorant to the wind and rain. Green-grey clouds above, green-grey water below. She wanted the blue sea back, and with it, the orange dawn and purple dusk. It seemed as if a roaring storm wanted her, twisting about to throw up treasure to lure her. Some things were beyond treasure.
"Davy Jones," the woman whispered. Her words were lost to the wind.
"Davy Jones," the woman said, louder this time. The storm crashed over her words.
"Davy Jones!" the woman screamed out.
For a brief moment, the world stopped and turned to look at her, silent and terrified. Then the wind whipped up and around, faster and faster, until sparks of green flame danced along it. The sparks were carried before the woman, and collected to form a defiant emerald blaze in the rain. More spun up and descended from above, collecting until legs and arms were formed, then a head. Dark shadows grew around the legs, arms, back, and head, until the light from the flame died down to reveal Davy Jones.
He was gigantic, twice as tall as a man was. Green-skinned, yet skeletal and famished, his dark pants and open shirt hung loosely on him. A dark, wide-brimmed hat covered his head, but long stringy cords of white hair whipped about in the wind. His eyes were dark pits, his grizzled face lined with sea salt. His thin lips parted to reveal yellowed teeth in a grin.
"Shella..." Davy Jones said in an ancient, echoing voice, "I was hoping you'd call upon me."
"Ditch the pleasantries, I was told you'd bring her back," Shella retorted.
"Of course, of course. I can give you your heart back. The only question is, How Much Is It?" the monster said.
"How much is what?" Shella asked.
"How Much Is It Worth, of course. Nothing is free, and if you assume I give out gifts without expectations or payment, then you are a fool. All I ask is to see your, ah ha, treasure and appraise it. With it, I can give you what I need from you."
Shella looked up at Davy Jones. Beneath her stern exterior, she knew she was screwed. No matter how this played out, she'd have to give up something. Maybe doing something drastic. Hell, it happened last time. She just needed to pay the favor back.
"All right," she said, and turned towards the cabin. The two goons stood aside as she opened the door and walked inside, her mind passing into events that occurred years ago.
* * *
"Lily?" Shella called out as she entered the captain's cabin - her cabin. A giant bed dominated the cabin, covered in bedsheets and pillows of all kinds. Twisting coral grew from the walls and ceiling in odd patches, with a select few glowing a sea-blue color. In one corner, a large closet stood, mismatched clothes sticking out of the cracks between the doors. Opposite of it, on the other side of the bed, lay a large rainbow bed of coral.
"Lily!" Shella called out again. She knew Lily had heard her. It was impossible for Lily not to hear her! Lily was short for Sea Lilith, the name of the ship Shella was on as well as Lily's body. It was funny thinking that any part of Lily was hers, given that Shella was inside Lily right now, but she had more experience talking with, or sometimes to, Lily's human avatar.