Apprentice To The Sorcerer

Big, broad hands that weren’t Jack’s picked me up. I tried to open my eyes but they were crusted shut with dried tears and God only knew what else. I thrashed weakly, certain I’d fallen into enemy hands.

“Be still, missy,” Hector Barbossa’s voice said gruffly. “I ain’t int’rested in hurtin’ ye.”

Defeated by my own weakness and the sincerity in Barbossa’s voice, I quieted.

“Yer such a wee lass, really,” he went on. “Hard ta believe ye’ve got such piss and vinegar in yer blood.”

“Put me down,” I said, barely even able to hear myself.

But he heard me.

Barbossa knelt with me as I gagged and heaved an abundance of nothing. I stared at the sandy loam, certain I’d kill myself with this useless voiding of my stomach.

“Be you poisoned?” Barbossa leaned me back until I could stare up into his red rimmed, hazel eyes.

Nearly delirious, I rasped a breathy laugh. “I’m a scorpion,” I answered. “I poison everyone, even myself.”

Barbossa grinned. “Now you be talkin’ my language, little lass,” he said. He set me on the beach. “Ye jest sit tight there,” he said. “I be sendin a lad to fetch yer captain.”

“No!” I grabbed his sleeve as he made to rise. “Please, don’t.”

Barbossa lifted his eyebrows. “It’s a death sentence fer me ta not do it,” he said. “Ye best have a damn good reason fer me ta risk me own neck. Jack has a claim on ye that makes it damn clear what fate befalls a man who touches his lass.” He pushed a rough hand against my forehead. “And yer burnin up,” he went on.

“Send for no one,” I insisted.

“If’n ye want to die on this stretch of sand, I’ll allow it,” Barbossa answered, sitting down a few feet to my left, well away from stabbing range, I noticed. He withdrew a flask and tossed to my feet. “I’d advise getting’ a drink on a’ffore ye go. The afterlife be as dull as church.”

A sense of self-destruction made me crawl to his flask and drink deeply of it. The alcohol hit me like cannon shot. My muscles unwound, my stomach churned yet did not rebel. I sank back down into the sand, looking up into the overcast, noonday sky. “I need a confession, a priest,” I said.

“Ah,” Barbossa commented. “Well, I ain’t no man of the frock,” he said.

“Never said you were, you arse,” I replied.

Barbossa laughed shortly. “Well then,” he announced, “Do go ahead and confess all you desire, me poisonous lass. Who am I going to tell? Can’t even rat you out to our Heavenly Father.” He leaned over, grabbed his flask and drank. “Entertain me. Spill yer guts.”

“Easily done.” I gagged again. Visions of Jack being swallowed by the Kraken swam in my vision. His dark eyes, lit with his smile as he stared into me…“But why d’you want to hear my sob little tale?” I asked.

“Curiosity,” Barbossa answered readily.

Curiosity. The pirate’s answer to everything nebulous. I rolled over onto my side and stared at him. Something deep within me broke. “I killed Jack,” I blurted out.

“When?” Barbossa asked. No emotion touched his tone.

“Long time ago, maybe four years,” I said. “But he came back, same as you. You remember?”

“And yer the one what’s done him in, so long ago?” Barbossa grinned. “I ain’t surprised, missy. Explains why ye were so hot to retrieve him.”

I closed my eyes. “I hate myself.”

“And what fer?” Barbossa snorted. “Fer killin? Killin be easy, and mostly without repercussion, dontcha know?” He put a plug of tobacco in his mouth and bit down on it briefly. “This be what’s got ye pukin yer guts out in the sand?” He shook his head. “Bilge-water.”

“Fuck you,” I answered.

“You should be so lucky,” Barbossa said, grinning. “Seriously lass, you got a lot ta learn about complicity.” He spit to the side, looking at me askance. “Surprised yer lover ain’t hammered that inta yer pretty head by now, ‘er at least some other part of ye.” He leaned back, resting his weight on his hands as they splayed out in the sand behind him. “If’n ye think ye’ve got any say in what happens in this big old world, yer arrogant.”

“So says a man who betrayed Jack too,” I answered. “Why did you do it?”

“Why?” Barbossa smirked. “Because I could, lass. Followin’ ain’t fer me, not even for the likes of Jack.” He spat again. “Don’ get me wrong, I fully grasp the depth of yer misery here. But ye got ta understand jus’ where your culpability lies.” He shook his head. “I got to atone fer the things I done wrong. I could try to make up fer ‘em til the day I die and I’d still never scratch the surface. Someday I’ll be called up fer a reckonin.” He smiled. “But God be havin the truth, I’ll be askin’ some questions of me own when that day comes.”

“I don’t want to answer for myself,” I said.

“Who does, missy? Who does?” Barbossa posed softly. “Ye asked me why I betrayed Jack Sparrow.” He turned his head to look at me. “Why did you?”

“To save myself and others from the Kraken,” I answered.

Barbossa nodded thoughtfully. “Weren’t neat like that fer me,” he confessed. “I was just obeyin’ selfish impulse.”

“The end result is the same,” I said. “Jack gets hurt.”

“Aye,” Barbossa answered. “But ye shouldn’t be out here makin’ yerself sick over killing a man who is obviously quite alive. What’s done is done. H’ain’t he said the same?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “But I can’t bear it. It always lurks in the back of my mind.” I squeezed my eyelids shut. “How can he stand the sight of me?”

“He doesn’t hate you; you hate yourself,” Barbossa answered. “Simple enough, lass.”

“But he still hates you, and you didn’t even get him killed,” I pointed out.

“That’s between men,” Barbossa answered placidly. “You stabbed me with a table knife. I would have died had I not already been mostly dead. I don’t hate you either.”

I stretched out on my back. “And why not?” These pirates and their codes…

“Weakness of the flesh.” Barbossa laughed. “We pirates tend to appreciate a murderous female. So few of you have the spine fer it, er if ya do, it’s poison or something else sly, something that don’t get yer hands dirty.” He paused. “Best get yerself together lass, because Jack’s coming.”

“I wasn’t allowed to be alone with you,” I groaned.

“Then maybe ye’ll get that punishment ye so desperately want,” he murmured. “He’s got about ten minutes to shore. I figure ye have time to pray.”

I listened to the crash of waves. Moments later, I heard the boat come up onto the sand.

“Mornin, Jack,” Barbossa greeted. “Come to make sure I haven’t harmed yer lass?”

“Lizzie?” Jack blotted out the sun. His hand touched my forehead. “What ails you?” He ignored Barbossa altogether. Scorby twined around both of us, rubbing wet fur everywhere. She must have gone to get him, swum back to the Pearl.

“She’s been vomiting,” Barbossa supplied for me. “Found her lying in the woods about fifteen minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you send for help?” Jack asked, his voice cold and steady. He smoothed the hair from my forehead tenderly.

“She didn’t want no help. She fought even comin ta the beach.” Barbossa spit a wad of tobacco into the water. “Offered to send a boy to get you but she wouldn’t allow it. Seems she likes sufferin.”

“Lizzie?” Jack said again. “Did you eat something, drink something you shouldn’t have?” His worried voice stabbed my unworthy heart.

I attempted to sit and he helped me. His kind attention only rammed home my unworthiness. I shrank away from him, balled up until my forehead touched my bent knees.

“It’s a touch of the guilts,” Barbossa told him. “Nothing a good beatin’ from you won’t fix. I suggest ya get to it so there’ll be somethin’ left of her for later. She keeps this up and she’ll puke her stomach out into the sand for the gulls.”

I wished Jack would beat me. I wanted him to beat me within an inch of my life. It would help assuage the weight of my guilt, tamp down the self-loathing I’d carried for an eternity.

But with that casual advice from Barbossa, Jack understood my problem. Curling his arm around my shoulders, he lifted me to my feet. “We need to talk, I see,” he murmured.

The click of a pistol hammer turned both our heads. Barbossa, still sitting in the sand, had his weapon aimed directly at Jack. “That’s the problem with you, Jack,” he drawled. “You talk enough to put a mynah bird off.” His finger squeezed the trigger.

I saw my moment. I wrestled Jack to the side as the pistol fired. Searing heat tore across my shoulder.

He’d barely missed Jack, barely missed putting a ball in my arm. Blood began to seep through my shirt where the graze had taken a nice chunk of flesh out.

Barbossa stood, throwing his pistol aside to draw his cutlass. Jack, seeing my injury for a non-fatal wound, stepped away from me, drawing his own weapon. His face held death. “Traitor,” he swore, his voice deep and ominous.

“Not this time,” Barbossa grinned. “Not that I expect you to care. Still, I wouldn’t have minded payin’ ye back fer the bullet I received on Isla de Muerta, but this works out the same.”

And then, I understood what Barbossa had done. “Stop,” I said, holding out my hand. I hoped Jack wasn’t so far gone with his hate of the man to see… “We’re even,” I announced.

Both men regarded me. Jack’s body quivered with the want to kill Barbossa and the desire to attend me. Barbossa took the moment of uncertainty to sheath his cutlass. “Knew ye fer a smart lass,” he said.

Understanding dawned in Jack’s dark eyes. Drawing a deep breath, he copied Barbossa, putting his blade away. His nimble fingers tore at my sleeve to expose the deep channel just below the top line of my shoulder. Our eyes met. “Is it good enough for you, Lizzie?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” I answered, meaning it.

“Glad ta be of service,” Barbossa cut in. “Now, if’n neither one of ye mind, I’ve a woman ta meet.”

“Not quite yet,” Jack said, striding over to the taller man. Balling up his fist, he drew back and struck the man. Barbossa, though a heavy, solid man, nearly fell over with the force of the blow. “Now, go meet yer lass,” Jack said, a grin on his face.

Barbossa answered his grin, holding a hand up to his jaw. He turned and spat a tooth into the sand. “See ya both,” he said.

Despite what Barbossa said, I owed him. But he wasn’t counting it, didn’t expect anything from me. With a single bullet and good aim he’d wiped the slate clean between us all, as far as he figured. My gratitude threatened to burst through my skin. But I felt lightheaded. My blood dropped steadily onto the white sand. I turned my head to meet Jack’s eyes. “I think I’m going to faint,” I told him.

“No you don’t,” Jack said sternly, sitting me down. He took my pack and bag off, placing them beside of me. “You have your kit?” His fingers were already seeking through my knapsack. “Stupid,” he swore at me. “Stubborn, stubborn woman. Do you feel cleaner now that you’ve almost been killed for me?” His lips set into a thin line. “I never wanted this,” he added, tossing the bones of Thomas Veal out onto the sand without even making note of them. He found my small medical bag and opened it.

“A pirate does what’s necessary,” Jack continued. “I told you that a long time ago. Weren’t you listening to me? By God, you seem to listen to everything I say, I can’t figure you out.” He fumbled with my bottle of spirits. When he opened it he poured it down my bleeding flesh. The hot sting chased away the darkness trying to close my eyes. “You wanted to be a pirate so sodding much,” he uttered, beginning to wrap my arm. “You listen to me, do you hear? No more of this insanity!” He shouted the final words, shaking my good shoulder for emphasis.

“I’ve watched you slink off enough times to wallow in yer guilt.” Jack tied the bandage tight and started throwing things back in my knapsack. His hand stopped short of sweeping up the jumble of bones on the sand. “Lizzie,” he said quietly. “Why are you carrying a skeleton in your bag?”

I grinned up at him. I felt so free. “It’s insurance,” I said. “Maybe I’ll tell you later.”

Jack closed his eyes. A short puff of air escaped his nostrils. “You madden me,” he confessed. But he put the bones back and sat down beside me, an air of defeat to his shoulders. Turning his upper body, he glared down at me. All that dark kohl around his already dark eyes made for a very effective glare. If I hadn’t the feeling of euphoria to contend with, I’d worry.

“Truly, was this enough?” Jack asked softly. “Tell me now, Lizzie.”

“Yes,” I answered happily. “All square, Jack, all of us.” On impulse I leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Jack blinked his confusion twice. A sneaking pleasure stole into his expression, grudgingly, reluctantly. His eyes took me in, warming me. “Then I intend to forgive Barbossa nearly killing either one of us,” he said. He put his arm around my back, gently, avoiding my arm.

I surrendered to the moment.

I leaned against him, letting my head drop to his shoulder. Jack put his nose to my hair. “Mmm,” he breathed. “Lizzie had a bath earlier.”

“I did.” I shot him a meaningful look. “Baths are good for everyone.”

We sat, gazing out to sea. I felt on the edge of a new life. No matter what happened I knew I would be able to cope with it now. Jack and I were even. Scorby returned from wherever she’d run off to, and sat on Jack’s other side. With her there I almost felt like we were a family.

“Lizzie,” Jack said quietly.

“Yes?”

“Why do you have bones in your bag?”

“Because I don’t have a closet.”