White and Black Pearls 2 - One Remaining Pearl

Chapter Eleven

Barbossa eyed Calypso warily as he watched her talk to her spirits or ghosts or whatever the bloody hell she was doing. The woman disturbed him something awful. As she tossed a handful of what looked rather pointedly like human finger bones onto some drawings she’d sketched out on a sheet of lambskin, Barbossa checked his compass again. The arrow was pointing ahead steadily, without a single waver. At very least, with the help of this compass and the knowledge that Jack Sparrow was alive somewhere and causing a heap of trouble, his soul had been calmed a little.

“Do you want to know a story?” Calypso asked without lifting her head as she gathered the bone bits up and folded her lambskin cloth, tucking both items into a black bag at her side.

The man could only assume she was talking to him, since she hadn’t said two words to the rest of the crew. That besides, the crew hadn’t said two words to her either, they all kept a good distance between them and her, and wisely so. Barbossa took a step towards her and held out his hand; Calypso ignored it and stood on her own. “I would,” he said evenly, imagining that any story coming from a goddess had to be of some worth to him.

She nodded and pointed at the sky and moon. “Those, the shining stars and sun and moon and the sky… they’ve been there for as long as I’ve ever existed,” she began. “Take that literally. But the rest… swallow it down with a grain of salt.”

Barbossa nodded. It hadn’t been in so many words, but the way he figured it, she was telling him not to take her story point-blank.

Calypso reached into her bag and instead drew out a tiny fish skeleton, holding it between finger and thumb for Barbossa to look at as she told her tale.

“When the world was raw and not much was formed, the few beings that existed looked over everything around them.

‘I’ll take the mountains,’ one of the beings offered.

‘I’ll take the clouds,’ another suggested.

“Gathered before them were hundreds of little objects, each representing some portion of existence as all know it. The fish,” Calypso lifted the skeleton a little higher pointedly, “were represented by this. The bugs, by the shining shell of a beetle. The birds by a feather, and so on.” She paused and looked at Barbossa as though to say ‘this is the part you don’t take literally.’ “They weren’t actual feathers and shells and whatnot; that’s just how these objects appear to simpleton humans like you. You would see a ratty feather where one of my kind would see an object of power. That’s what all the unnamed beings saw, were different divides of power. They each began to pick different parts of the world that they would keep watch over.

“There stood Celeste when she was nameless, and there stood Calypso when she too had no name. There stood all of Those Who Reign today, and some who do not any more. As others chose to rule the fish and the coral, Calypso became greedy and stuck out her hand, grabbing the fish and the bit of coral from the others.” She smiled then, and Barbossa could have sworn that her smile was a wicked one as she tucked the little skeleton away back where it had come from in her pouch.

“’They are mine,’ Calypso declared. ‘The waters, all of them, and everything in them, they are mine!’

“The others saw this and were outraged; they began to jostle and push each other, wanting their tiny things to rule over so everyone could have something. As Celeste watched this, and saw Calypso's greed, she knew that she had to act for herself or else she would become one of those passed over or left with nothing in her hands. She reached out then and grabbed at the heap of pearls that were the stars and represented different parts of the skies. Amidst the fighting with Calypso, one of the beings noticed what Celeste was doing, and cried out in outrage.

“Those left with nothing began to do the same as Celeste, grabbing for the few things left... strength over the moon, the sun, and the remaining stars. Calypso was forgotten about as the then-nameless began to fight for the pearls. Celeste watched her chances at absolute, unchallenged power slipping away, and on impulse she reached out and twisted the head of one of those that were grabbing at her hands and trying to get her pearls.

“All went still as the nameless watched their comrade fall; it was a strange sight to them, they'd never seen death before. The nameless ones were changed forever in that instant: they could die, and one of them had spilled the blood of another, forever staining the innocence of all. One would think that this would deter Celeste from further aspirations or at least from bringing such harm to her fellow nameless, but no.

“The taste of blood was on her tongue, tingling in her fingers; it didn’t happen at first, but the more blood that spilled, the darker her eyes became until Celeste’s eyes turned blood red and she attacked without prejudice – she began to kill the others off, one by one, tearing the pearls out of their dead hands.

“She weaved them into her hair as she went, keeping her hands free to kill, and by the time she had the very last pearls bound in her hair, the other objects had all been snatched up – the duties had been settled. Wordlessly the newly made gods all parted, brothers and sisters in their existence, and for the first full evening that Celeste was goddess of the skies, the moon was stained red with the blood of her fallen gods and the blood on her hands.

“Yes, she had gained all of the power of the skies, but by spilling the blood of other gods, they'd used the last of their powers to curse her to one day a year of vulnerability, so they could have their chance at vengeance and so that even if they failed, she was forever punished for her deeds as others who aspired to take her place or become gods would come after her. Her pearls... are never secure. They can be taken, they can be stolen; she is not the unchallenged goddess of the sky, since she did not obtain the pearls fairly. She can be dethroned and the pearls are her crown but they're also her leash; if one can get hold of a full strand of the ten from her hair, they can pull at her strings as they see fit.

“Bloody Celeste can be resurrected again, to kill and steal the precious objects of other gods and claim their power. If one was so inclined, they could attempt to gather every precious object and become an unchallengeable god.” Calypso smiled to herself then and thumbed the pearls about her wrist, a string of nine. “Though I suppose if someone really didn’t care about ruling the skies and just wanted to punish her outright, they could use the pearls instead to make her do whatever they want.” Like kill Jack Sparrow with her bare, bloody hands.

Barbossa’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the pearls and swallowed her story down. “That was a good story,” he acknowledged. “I liked the part with the killing. She’s a woman after me own heart. It’s funny though, in the version of that story told to me a lifetime ago, it was someone else that did the killing and Celeste was the one trying to comfort them; they gave their pearls to her and begged her to rule the skies so that the one who had killed them couldn’t, and her eyes became blood red after she’d been soaked with the blood of the fallen while comforting them. The way I heard it, she’s vulnerable once a year on the Blood Moon as a blessing, not a curse, meant to be the thanks of those she helped before they died.”

Calypso gave Barbossa a dry stare before turning her attention to the sky. “Same story, different version; believe whatever one you want. You’ll have your chance to woo her soon enough,” she affirmed with a nod. “Another ship carries her towards the same destination we’re headed. When all of us meet there’s going to be a mighty fine change in the way things work in the world... that, I guarantee.”

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