The Last of the Guardians: Book One: The War Begins

[Ben Cabingrin]

I decided to try my hand again at writing a story. I'm trying to write in chapters, so don't expect new parts every day. If anyone wants to be in the story, I'll do my best to put you in, though I can't guarantee large parts.

Anyway, here we go:


The Last of the Guardians

Book One: The War Begins
..............

Chapter One: Endings and beginnings


Governor Cornwallis G. Mallory had come to the conclusion that being the Governor of Padres Del Fuego was rather boring and quite dull.
Everything seemed to be working out as it was supposed to and almost free from mishaps, which on one hand was satisfactory but on the other he found it irritating. Everyone paid their taxes and tariffs on time and with every cent, all loans were in the end paid back to the donor, Abigail, his most beloved and loving wife, was in excellent health (and in excellent physical condition, he thought with a smile), his two-year old daughter Mary was growing up splendidly, the riffraff were confined to their own section of the town, his name and reputation were in great standing with the King of England--where was his challenge? His only true challenge was to make sure he could still move his hand after writing or signing all of those orders and bills and laws and so forth. Padres Del Fuego was prospering, yet he felt like he was somehow failing.
Padres Del Fuego. Every time he heard the name spoken he always thought about it. Why would you name an island "Fathers of Fire" if the only fire you could find was in someone's home or via a torch? There were many mountains, but they were covered with tall, green trees. All around the city it was gorgeous with wildflowers, fruit trees, and within the mountains itself you could find some of the purest gold and silver.
So many things didn't make sense, and Mallory was a man who appreciated life when he could make sense of something.
Well, I'm not going to get anything done by just speculating, he thought. Time to get back--
"My lord! Look!" His assistant suddenly exclaimed.
Surprised that his usually laid-back assistant was in fact excited, Cornwallis turned--and stared.
Then he ran towards the doors, his assistant after him in a flash.
By the time he had reached the garden, telling himself that he was fortunate not to have torn or broken any part of his clothing, a crowd had gathered, staring up at the sky, and looking below, he could see more and more people gazing skyward or coming outside to do so.
"Cornwallis?" Abigail stepped to her husband's side, a maid close behind her with young Mary.
Silently, he pointed upwards, as the murmurings of the crowd grew louder.
It appeared to be a star falling out of the sky-in the middle of the day. When Cornwallis had first observed the phenomenon it had appeared to be no bigger than a pebble, but now it was far bigger, about the size of a cannonball, and growing rapidly.
No, he corrected, it wasn't getting bigger, it was getting CLOSER.
Someone began to pray as a rumble began to sound as it grew nearer and nearer, then with a mighty rush of air passed overhead--and crashed in between two of the mountains.
After the haze of dust and smoke had cleared there were collective sighs of relief. The falling star had not fallen where there were any people living. From where they stood they could see where the star had crashed and left a massive, burnt hole in the ground. It looked as if someone had taken a huge spoon and dug out a portion of the ground, then set it on fire.
Mallory gathered himself and spoke.
"Have Commodore Rankor prepare his best men for a scouting expedition," he finally moved his eyes away from the extraordinary site, " And tell him I wish to go along."
..............

"Governor, I believe it was a bloody bad idea fer ye to tag along on this @!$# foot parade," Franklin Rankor half-rasped, half-snarled out his sentiment--as he always did.
Cornwallis always had to suppress a distasteful look or word whenever he was in the company of this--man. As Commodore, Rankor offically was in charge of all the troops in the area, and even some of the troops posted in Cuba or Port Royal, but he did not act like one ought to. He swore, drank vile drinks, was generally unclean about his person, enjoy the services of the....ladies (whenever Cornwallis tried to come up with a term for their type of person his face turned beet red), and overall did not represent what Cornwallis would call a striking figure. He was tall and packed with muscles, presumably from a lifetime of hard work. His eyes were an unreadable brown, his hair ash blond, his beard and mustache unkempt. A scar over his left eye and another over his right cheekbone further gave him a rascally and rather cruel look. He was, however, a superb swordsmen and a crack shot, and was an excellent strategist in naval warfare. Those qualities, Mallory mused, were what pleased the King and had made Rankor a Commodore.
"Commodore Rankor, if there is any sort of threat associated with that falling star, I wish to know of it," he replied, somewhat more haughtily than he ought to have.
"@!$%, Guvnor, I could have done thet meself, and saved ye the trouble of walking," Rankor snickered as he shoved through some greenery.
Mallory suppressed the urge to belt this imbecile, which would have certainly ended in at least being knocked flat on his rear, and stumbled after him.
After about ten more minutes of shoving, stumbling, and arm-waving (at the mosquitoes), and when Mallory thought they might have been going in circles, they came at last to the object of their search.
The star had decimated all of the wildlife once in the vicinity, leaving burnt branches, stumps, and shriveled, wilted stalks where the flowers used to prosper. Cornwallis shook his head as they carefully stepped over the debris and arrived at the edge of the hole, looking down with at first caution--then surprise and bewilderment.
For within the hole lied a bundle of cloth, and from within they could faintly hear a baby's cry.
"A whelp?" Even Rankor sounded a little astonished.
The group of men carefully entered the hole, the troops fanning around the hole and casting looks about in case of some kind of ambush, just as they were trained to.
Cornwallis gently picked up the baby. A quick glance showed him that the baby was a boy and didn't look very old, in fact he still had his eyes closed.
One of the troops stepped up to look, "Cute little fella, isn't he, Governor?"
"Yes, indeed," Cornwallis glanced up, "We'll take him back to the mansion. My lady has always desired to have a boy of her own."
"You'll take the boy, sir? What about his parents, shouldn't we be looking for them?"
"I'd leave the whelp, if I was ye," Rankor stood nearby, looking a little--apphensive. And that was more of a surprise than his statement.
"Why? The child probably is on his own, and he'll need nourishment from somebody. Why not that of our house?"
"It's not that," Rankor shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "I think this here whelp ain't really a whelp, but some sort of-- creature, maybe, I dunno. I don't like it at all."
"Preposterous!" Mallory snorted "I'll be taking the boy, so it's none of your concern, Commodore."
"I've a bad feeling that he'll be the death of me, if ye let him survive," Rankor growled.
Mallory didn't reply, just shifted his weight to adjust to the baby's added weight and started to walk out of the hole.
"Governor! Commodore! Look at this!" A man shouted.
They walked over to him, where he pointed down around his feet, where a sword was imbedded in the sand. The blade's silvery-like metal seemed polished so that it fairly flashed and beautifully engraved in a manner that was unfamiliar to Mallory, and etched in the middle of the blade in a line of the end of the blade to the guard were a series of strange runes. The guard itself was made of a polished, darker metal curved in a S-like curve, with the top end pointed towards the blade point, the bottom half pointed the opposite way. The handle was made of the same kind of darker metal, but etched with tiny runes. At the end of the handle there was a black leather tassle that seemed big enough to slip a forearm through.
"That is an impressive blade," Mallory glanced over as he spoke at Rankor in time to see the latter's eyes. Before it went away, he saw a flare of something akin to recognition in his dark, cold eyes before they returned to their usual blank, chilly state.
Must've known the maker of these kind of blades, Cornwallis mused. However, he could not shake the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye.
Mallory reached and placed a hand and the handle, which was surprisingly comfortable to the hand, and lifted it from the sand.
Or tried to. The blade didn't budge at first as he tugged gently at it, then more firmly. Then suddenly it became lighter and he held it at shoulder height by his right side, away from the child in his left arm. Strangely enough, the runes had disappeared, though it did not detract from the blade's quality or beauty. It seemed perfectly balanced, a good weapon to have by when in a fight.
"Let us return to the mansion, Commodore, I think we've done enough here for one day," Mallory handed the baby to a soldier nearby to carry and kept the sword in his hand.
Isn't it strange, Cornwallis thought, how fate hands you things when you least expect them.
Years later, he would remember just how true his words came to be.
..............
As the boy grew up, the world around him was simultaneously altering around him. Padres Del Fuego finally lived up to its name as it erupted in lava, ash, and fire five years after his adoption, forcing everyone to temporarily flee from the island, and afterwards could no longer be made into a large town, just a small town and a large fort up above. After an additional ten years of the Mallory family of four living very well in England, they were sent back into the Caribbean, with Cornwallis being made Governor of Port Royal, replacing the (then) recently deceased Weatherby Swann, the East India Trading Company had its war against all known, and some unknown, guilty parties engaging in piracy. Commodore Rankor was stripped over all formal rank and cast out of the Navy, presumably for illegal conduct. He had left swearing to someday get even with all of them.
The Mallory family arrived in Port Royal in a hard time for others surrounding Port Royal, but not a hard time for those on Port Royal. They were received well by the inhabitants, and it was easy to see that not only would Cornwallis perform his duties with relative ease, but that the Commodore Charles Morrison was a fine officer and not long in being a good friend of the family--at least to the Governor and his wife.
It was also easy to see that the Caribbean was under siege. There were rumors of ghostly ships that kept gathering in numbers, and were filled with cursed men that had been transformed into evil, heartless skeletons that could not be killed, unless one could manage to blow them apart by a cannon or a grenade. It was also said that the leader had magical powers, had a cannon for a hand, and could never be stopped by mortal men.
Cornwallis figured all that to be bully and a fantasy, but the fact remained that numerous cargo ships or warships were being destroyed on their way to wherever, no survivors were ever found, and the offensive parties were never able to be discovered.
A long time ago, Cornwallis had sought for challenge, and 2 decades later had received one.
It would all start to come to a head with the arrival of a certain pirate and his friend. This scallywag had been to Port Royal a number of times for different reasons, but never for the reason he was coming now. He knew the risk he took, as he'd been caught before the last time and most likely would be caught again, but in Port Royal he was.
Fate was playing its cards again--as it never stops doing.

 

[Ben Cabingrin]

Chapter 2: First Signs​

Benjamin W. Mallory looked out at the beautiful, sunny day, and thought, This day may start out beautifully, but it will end in shadow.
He didn't know why his gut feeling always proved accurate, but every time it kicked in the situation had turned out as expected. On one hand it was useful, on the other it was almost frightening to know that things always turned out the way you knew it would.
He turned away from the window. Standing at six feet tall, with his broad-shouldered, lean-hipped body rippling with muscles, he could move lightly on his feet and with surprising speed, which some people had the misfortune of finding out rather painfully. With short brown hair, brown eyes and a trimmed beard, he had also attracted some of the damsels back in England and here in Port Royal, and though he was attracted to females, he hadn't gone and courted someone as of late.
His sister Mary constantly teased him about it, but he always retorted that she didn't have the nerve to talk to Nate Barton about more romantically-related topics. That usually shut her up her stubbornly consistent mouth--much to his relief.
Of course, it wasn't solely on his part that he hadn't gone off courting. The circumstances in which he was found by his adoptive father had raised more than one eyebrow. People tended to stay away from him, believing that if they came too close they would be hexed by the Devil--or by Ben himself. On one hand it was amusing, on the other it was saddening.
Ben made his way down the stairs to the ground floor as he smiled at his musings.
Some time to have a bloody flashback, he thought.
"Good morning, Master Mallory," a butler approached him--but keeping a distance, Ben noticed, "Are you feeling well?"
"Yes, thank you, Geoffrey," Ben looked out the window again briefly, "Did Father come down yet?"
"No, sir, but he will be down in a minute, he is waiting for the ladies."
"Hmm." Though Ben had grown up in a wealthy family, he despised all of the diplomatic airs and the haughtiness, and especially the deep concern for dressing fancily and properly, whereas his father had become the very image of such, "And Nate?"
"Present, sir," Nate himself replied as he rose from a seat in the parlor, grinning.
Nathan Barton was the only son of a wealthy businessman who had achieved wealth through trade and commerce. He was a little shorter than Ben and two years older, but that didn't take away any less man of him. He was, Mary had confessed to Ben once, very handsome and strong. He was also a superb swordsmen, having only been beaten by Ben, and by a narrow shave, at that.
Nathan was also one of Ben's only friends--and very much in love with his sister Mary. The feeling was returned, but it was not known to either to them. Mary thought Nate just liked her as a friend, and Nate sometimes thought she didn't even knew he existed. Ben found it all most entertaining and amusing to watch.
"Morning, Nate," Ben turned to face him, "What's this all about?"
"I heard that a notorious pirate was caught early this morning by the ever so vigilant Commodore Morrison," Nate ended those last words in a slightly distasteful snort, "Everyone was welcome to attend the trial, but the Governor and his family were asked specifically to appear."
"To make it more official," Ben nodded, then chuckled briefly, " Do you even know why you don't like the Commodore?"
"Do you know why YOU don't like him?"
Ben sighed. Nate had a point. Morrison thought himself to be was the smartest and bravest man ever to be made, Ben thought that while the Commodore was certainly very intelligent and excellent in swordsmanship, or for that matter any kind of weapon, and could make very successful strategies, he was still just a man and not someone superior to everyone, and shouldn't act as such. Ben had thought more than once that if he jerked his father or Morrison with a pin they might deflate a little, but then puff back up a second later due to either their haughtiness or their superior airs.
Why is it? he asked himself That I personally know two stuffed shirts, and one happens to be my adoptive father?
Nate's reasoning, however, was much more personal. While he respected Morrison's capabilities, he disliked the Commodore's personal attraction to Mary, and resented him for it. However, he had thus far managed to keep his feelings to himself.
"Mr. Barton," The title was more of a statement than a question, and from the sound of it, the Governor was fairly vexed at the subject.
"Ah....$%^&," Nate muttered under his breath.
Both men turned as Governor Cornwallis Mallory stepped closer. Time had put a few more lines on his face and around his eyes, and had added a noticeable bulge in his stomach, but he could still look and act vigorous when he wanted to.
This was one of those times.
"I heard your disparaging tone when speaking of the Commodore," His eyes were flashing with indignation, "I do not know why you choose to dislike him, but there shall be no offensive comments of him, at least while you are on my personal property. Is that clear?"
"With all due respect," Ben spoke up before Nate could--which was probably for the best, "This is the property of the island and of the King, not of the Governor or his family."
Mallory thought he would slap Benjamin. What cheek! He fumed.
However, Ben was not done, "Regardless, we were having a private discussion of certain matters that no doubt are of no importance to anyone except us. Whatever our personal feelings are, they mean no harm to anyone--at least not for now."
"What do you mean, not for now?" Mallory fully faced his adoptive son, confronting him.
"I mean that someday it may turn into something more drastic, but that time is not here and it is not now." Ben's voice was quiet, but his tone carried his message through every spot in the room, chilling the Governor's heart.
Cornwallis changed the object of his attention in a hurry--but in a way so as to save face--and was getting ready to give Nathan what for when a butler appeared by their side.
"Governor? The ladies are ready and are waiting by the coach for both of you."
Cornwallis breathed in a calming draught of air, "All right, thank you. Come along, Ben."
"See you there, Nate," Ben nodded at his friend as they followed Mallory out of the mansion.
"Right," Nate tried not to stare as he passed by Mary.
"Nathan," Mary smiled, displaying her very white teeth. Her long, dark red hair was done up in a bundle on the back of her head. She was wearing a blue dress that clung to her curves so beautifully that it was almost embarrassing to Nate. Her emerald green eyes sparkled with joy--or was it something more?
"Miss Mallory," Nate didn't stammer, thankfully. He hated it when he did that.
"Mary, please call me Mary. How many times have I asked you to do that?" She smiled again.
"Right, Miss--I mean, Mary," He said it somewhat reluctantly.
Ben just grinned as he watched the two interact.
The Governor snorted as he gave the two women a hand up into the coach.
"Why do you always try to play up to young Barton?" The Governor asked his daughter as they settled in and the coach began to move.
"Now, dear, Mary has a right to be friends or to be friendly with him--" Abigail started to speak.
"Friendly is one thing, but the way she acts he wants him to--court her or something!" Mallory spat it out as if that were the worst possible thing to happen.
"And what is wrong with that?" Mary asked her father, her green eyes flashing.
"Imagine it! A wealthy girl from a distinguished family--"
"Courted by a wealthy man from a not-so-distinguished family, but one known for its ongoing honesty and good character," Ben broke in, "I see no harm in it."
The Governor compressed his lips together and looked out the window, his jaw set in a stubborn line.



Fort Charles had not changed much as the years went on, even after the East India Trading Company had inhabited it during their ongoing campaign against piracy. The only noticeable differences were more troops patrolling the grounds (and the main town) and a large observatory that rose high above the gallows but not enough so that anyone inside the observatory was obliged to look straight down at the gallows.
When the Mallory family arrived at the fort, they noticed as they stepped outside that there was already quite a crowd. The trial, of course, was to be held outside, due to the large numbers expected to attend--and were attending. More and more people kept coming as they climbed up to the observatory.
At least, most of them did. Ben had quickly broken off from them and drifted over into the crowds.
"Why does he always feel the need to do that?" Cornwallis shook his head as he breathed in, more heavily than before (he was, frankly, not really in shape).
"Well, he is a little strange, Governor," Commodore Charles Morrison strode up. His tall frame fit well into the official uniform he was wearing. Though he was wearing the necessary wig, it did not make him look older than he was at forty years.
"Well, I don't know about strange, but he does have different habits or courses of action, at least different than from what I'd like for him to have."
"I'd say that due to the circumstances surrounding you taking him in makes him abnormal, Governor."
"True..."
"Governor?" An assistant approached, "Your sword?"
"Wha-? Oh, of course, certainly," Cornwallis drew out the blade and handed it over. Over 20 years had not detracted any of the blade's quality or beauty.
"It's amazing, Governor, how over that long of a period of time the sword does not require any cleaning or care," Morrison shook his head.
"I've never been able to understand it," Mallory watched as the assistant put the sword on a gleaming brass rack for all the people below to see, as per his custom.
'Tis a queer thing, he thought to himself, but never have the runes appeared again on the blade...
"Well, to change the subject," Mallory brought his mind back to business, "Who is this pirate that you apprehended?"
"Well, we in fact were able to apprehend two pirates, Governor Mallory," Morrison drew himself up slightly (how was a question, he was already ramrod-straight), "One is a former first mate of the infamous Black Pearl, by the name of Joshamee Gibbs."
"And the other is?"
"Jack Sparrow, sir."
"CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow, mate."
Everyone started and turned to face the speaker, who was in fact the notorious pirate they had just named. Ordinarily, they would have looked upon him with only passive interest.
However, the fact that not only was he unguarded and unrestrained, but that he was armed and aiming a pistol from waist-height in their general direction, and that an older-looking man with a salt-and-pepper beard and wearing some baggy clothes was also pointing a gun at them, caused a more than passive interest.
In fact, Abigail swooned away at the sight of the pistols pointed at them, Morrison's jaw dropped open so wide that one would think it could be the business end a of a cannon attached to his face, the Governor did not know when he had been so surprised or scared in his entire life, and Mary was surprised to see that the well-known pirate was not as fierce-looking as some had proclaimed him to be in stories.
Morrison was the first one to speak, "Sparrow?!" It came out more like a cross between a snarl and a hiss more than an educated and controlled tone, though it had been intended as the latter.
"CAPTAIN Sparrow, Commodore, and this is me first mate, Joshamee Gibbs, the one of which you just spoke of. It seems we have a scheduling conflict," Jack swayed as he spoke in a slightly slurred voice--as usual.
"Scheduling conflict? What do you mean?" Mallory snapped.
"We have a pressing and unyielding need to attend an appointment with some intoxicating rum, and then with...someone, and you claim you have scheduled an appointment for us at the gallows, and we prefer our former appointment more than your self-appointed appointment, due to the fact that our appointment is less suicidal than your dictated appointment, and the first objective on our agenda tastes far better than hemp, savvy?" Jack grinned.
"Begging yer pardon, Cap'n," Gibbs looked more nervous than his captain, "I be all fer the first but not fer the second...whoever it be."
"You monkey. I ought not to give you ANY rum," Jack snorted, "All right then, I have a pressing and unyielding need to attend an appointment with this person, and ye claim you have scheduled an appointment for us at the platform, and I prefer my former appointment more than your self-appointed appointment, due to the fact that my appointment is far more entertaining than your dictated agenda, savvy?" Jack grinned.
Mallory frowned, scratched his head for a moment, then spoke, "So your point is..?"
Jack shook his head, "Dumb and stuffed to the end," He muttered to Gibbs, then continued, "I am forcibly cancelling my--our appointment to the gallows. Did that get through your wigged skull, mate?"
Mallory hadn't got the first part--but he got the last part.
"Why--! You imbeciles, I'll--!" He stuttered in utter rage, then managed--barely--to spew something out, "What do you mean, "forcibly cancelling my appointment"?"
"You really aren't too brilliant, are ya, mate?" Jack's observation, at least at the moment, was most accurate, "It means that we are escaping, leaving, disappearing, going poof!--do I need to go on?"
Mallory looked mad enough that if he would've had the nerve or the physical prowess he would have strangled Jack there and then, but it was Morrison who spoke--probably a good thing, for the sake of the Governor's befuddled mind.
"And how do you intend to do that?"
"You don't need to know, mate. Besides, it'll mess up my plan."
"If he even has one. He prefers unplanned plans than planned plans," Gibbs spoke again.
Jack turned for a moment and glared at his friend, "Mister Gibbs, what's the logic in that? Plans are something that is planned by the main planner, unplanned plans are plans that are in the process of being planned or are planned by someone other than the planner and tend to be worse off than planned plans."
"But that's how ye take plans, sir."
Jack considered for a moment, "True enough."
Mary rolled her eyes.

 

[Ben Cabingrin]

Ben was able to find Nate after a short time of moving and shoving through the crowds.
"You were able to get here pretty fast," he greeted his friend.
"I have you all to thank for that," Nate grinned.
Ben guessed it instantly, "You got on the back."
"Wasn't easy, but I got it done. Where's the rest of your family?"
"As usual, up in the balcony."
Nate grunted as he glanced up.
"He he, must be a butler or something giving them fits," Nate chuckled.
Ben glanced up as well--then looked at the entrance to the passageway.
"Not a butler--some other kind of trouble."
"What do you mean?" Nate looked closer but couldn't see anything too unusual.
"Look at the trooper. He's propped up, not standing up."
"And," Nate finished the observation, "His pistol and musket are gone!"
"And--" They stopped speaking as they watched Ben's adoptive mother disappear from view high above.
"C'mon, let's go," Ben began to hurriedly shove his way through the crowds, with Nate close behind.



"Well, mates, it is time for me to leave, for we--I, that is, have much to do and launch a few unplanned plans as well before I become too inebriated, aye?" Jack moved off a few steps, then turned around and grinned, continuing to back up slowly, "Alas! You will always remember this as the day you almost--"
"Cap'n, aren't we forgetting something?"
Jack arched his eyebrow at his first mate.
"The sword?"
"Ah, yes! Thank you for reminding me. T'was thinking of the quality of the swag they call rum here and how to get to it," Jack walked over and plucked the sword from the rack.
"What do you want with my sword, pirate?" Cornwallis was still smarting from the despicable cheek displayed by Sparrow, but now had become coherent, at least.
"Well, not me, exactly. I have a professional interest in it, but someone else has a personal interest in it, so my professional interest has become a somewhat personal interest, which has also made this someone's interest become somewhat professional interest, thus to balance the interests, aye?"
Mallory decided not to question what he just said. He was mad enough as it was.
"Well, anyways..." Jack once again began to back up, "Alas! You will always remember this as the day you almost--"
"For the love of mother and child, Jack, will ye come on?!" Gibbs half-shouted, half-hissed the demand.
At that moment, Ben and Nate came running around the corner, then a lot of things were happening in a very short time span.
Just as they were getting near, the sword, which Jack was waving around as he was speaking, was beginning to alter again, as it did over 2 decades before. Only this time it was returning to its original form. The runes reappeared in the blade and the handle as a strange sound began to very quietly emit from the sword itself, creating a slight throbbing to the ears that was not heeded by anyone present--
Jack heard the pounding feet from the passage to his right, lost his customary grin, frowned, muttered "Booger" under his breath as he began to turn and as he did so swung his pistol around--
Ben saw him looking around and bringing the firelock around and shoved Nate over with his shoulder--
Nate flew headfirst into a stone column, dazing and disorienting him--
Gibbs found himself in the line of fire and hit the floor instantly, landing belly-down on the cobblestones, dropping his gun as he did so--
Jack suddenly lost his grip on the sword as it instantly became almost impossibly heavy, dropping to the floor. Startled, but still in control of his faculties, he aimed the pistol at the only standing target he saw in that direction and cocked the firelock, beginning to squeeze on the trigger--
Ben, reacting in a manner that was somehow familiar yet at the same time unfamiliar, stretched out his hand towards the sword--
The sword flew from the floor--
Ben grabbed the sword as it flew into his hand--
The firelock went off with a crack that was deafening--
The ball flew from the firelock--
And bounced off Ben's chest.
Jack's mouth dropped open--and not entirely from that.
Ben had altered as well. He seemed to have grown a bit taller and his body seemed more powerful. His eyes were literally glowing a fiery white, as if his eyeballs had been replaced with miniature orbs of lightning-bright rays of light. On his left cheek a tattoo, which in fact looked similar to Jack's "P" on his forearm but in a more flowing script, had appeared. It was also glittering.
The others were not unsurprised, either. Mary was staring at her adoptive brother in shock, Abigail, who had recovered finally, fainted again and hit her head against the stone wall (she was going to have a conspicuous bump on her head for a while), Morrison considered himself lucky not to get some bug in his mouth the way it kept dropping open, and Cornwallis had never felt so horrified in his life.
Words spoken from a filthy-mouthed, vile former Commodore came flapping into his brain.
"I think this here whelp ain't really a whelp, but some sort of-- creature, maybe, I dunno."
Jack was the first one to recover--in a way.
"Holy kumquats!" Jack did the only thing he could think to do--he leaped out of the observatory.
"Jack, wait fer me!" Gibbs followed his friend out of the window, if not so gracefully.
Thankfully for them, a wagon full of straw was there below them (it was supposed to haul away their bodies after they'd been hung). Jack fell butt-first into the straw, but Gibbs was not so fortunate--he landed belly-down and was buried in the straw.
"Hoy!" Jack drew his cutlass and leaped over onto the seat, "My wagon!"
With that, he bonked the unfortunate driver on the head with the handle of his sword. The man tumbled off the seat and landed in a heap.
Gibbs came up spluttering hay out of his mouth as he attempted to stand up.
Jack gathered the reins and yelled "Eeyaa!"
The horses started off as if launched by a spring. Gibbs barely avoided tumbling out of the rear as he was jolted backwards. He clung to the sides of the wagon as he inched his way forward and climbed onto the seat beside Jack. Civilians and soldiers alike leaped or stumbled out of the way as the wagon tore right through their midst.
Jack glanced back as he repeatedly slapped the reins on the backs of the nags. He saw Mr. Glitterer at the window of the observatory.
Ha! He thought, That will show him something.
It did--but it showed Jack the "something".
Seeing that the wagon was getting away, Ben took a couple of steps backward--then, somehow knowing he could do it, made a running start at the observatory and leaped through.
His leap carried him completely over the gallows and about 20 paces away from the still-retreating wagon. The cobblestones beneath his feet broke and scattered as he landed in a crouch.
Ben rose immediately and began to run with unnatural speed after the two pirates, the sword gleaming in his hand.
"Booger!" Jack muttered again.
At the same time, Jack found himself wondering about this new phenomenon.
Why is it, he pondered even as he flapped the reins harder, that I did not change into Mr. Glittering when I held the bloody sword? Is there no justice in life?
Probably not.
There was, however, an open gate at the main entrance to Fort Charles.
And a tall, unforgettable pursuer running like the wind.





More to come!

 

[Gastro]

Very nice! I love how long it is (because I can't stand 5 sentence chapters, xD) and how well you did on the grammar and spelling! Five stars.

 

[Ben Cabingrin]

Sorry for the very long delay, I have not worked on the story for such a long time I had to recollect where I was going with it. Anyways, here is the third chapter and the fourth should be finished relatively soon.

Chapter 3: The Chase--and Aftermath​

​

Two Navy Cadets snapped their heads around as they heard the rumble and clatter of the wagon barreling towards the open gates of Fort Charles.​

"Halt!" One of them shouted, raising his musket to his shoulder as his companion did likewise. Jack was not in a mood for "Halt!"ing and slapped the backs of the nags again.​

"AHHH!!" One of the Cadets shouted as they dove aside from the galloping hooves.​

Gibbs couldn't blame the Cadet's reaction. It was all he could do from screaming the exact same thing, even though he was not in their position-cause in his mind he was in a far worse predicament.​

Jack heaved at the reins and in response the wagon slewed around the corner and headed for the passageway to the main town. There was, however, a few glaring flaws with that decision.​

Flaw #1: Mr. Glittering was still in hot pursuit, having only stopped for a brief moment to check on the two Navy Cadets (who were scared stiff at Ben's sword-induced appearance). This, however, was more of a glowing flaw than a glaring one.​

Flaw #2: There was a company of Navy Veterans blocking the main entrance into the town. This was, literally and figuratively, a glaring flaw.​

Jack, however, was adopting one of his most-used techniques: Plan it as you go along.​

He swung the wagon around again and steered the horses towards the docks. The horses lunged into their collars as Jack yet again slapped the reins on their backs.​

"Jack! What're ye doing? We're gonna get trapped down here!" Gibbs hollered above all the noise.​

"Not if I can help it, Mister Gibbs."​

Jack glanced back. As he had hoped, the Veterans had broken off from their blockading line and were pursuing them on foot. Immediately he swung the horses around AGAIN and charged the incoming Veterans. Like the Cadets before, they scampered out of the way.​

There was one that did not, however. A tall figure with glowing eyes and a gleaming sword was walking slowly towards them, directly in the middle of their path. ​

A grim smile seemed to play across Ben's face as he watched them charge at him.​

It seemed that things were going in Jack's favor, though. A small boy decided around this time it was a good idea to try to chase his toy right out into the path of the charging horses and the creaking wagon.​

Ha! Jack thought-for the second time that day, Let him try to fix THIS!​

And once again, Ben did. ​

He ran right at the approaching wagon and scooped the boy up in his left arm, then continued to dart at the wagon--except he dove down and skidded feet-first like a glowing plow, the boy still tucked close to his side. The horses leaped over him as they slid underneath them-and the wagon right afterwards, not hitting them at all. ​

Ben slid to a stop, rose to one knee, turned and pointed the sword at the wagon just as it turned to go around a corner. The sword glowed-then unleashed a bluish-white ball of energy with an onimous puffing sound. There wasn't any recoil to speak of--it was more like the actual blast WAS the recoil. It impacted and completely destroyed the rear half of the wagon, leaving it a makeshift chariot that bounced and tilted from the force of the energy hitting it.​

"Aahh!" Jack shrieked as he and Gibbs struggled to maintain their balance and equilibrium.​

Depositing the boy on his feet beside him, Ben immediately set out after the two pirates.​

Jack growled in anger and exasperation after noticing this last factor. Urging the horses on again, the wagon-turned-chariot raced down in the middle of Port Royal, moving even faster than ever. People in the markets screeched and dove out of the way of the maniac pirate-turned-chariot racer, vendors got knocked over with a bang and a crash, the owners of the materials on the vendors shrieked as their livelihood got either trampled, run over, or chewed up by the thundering hooves--in short, chaos was ​

ensuing.​

None of this, however, slowed Ben down in the least. He darted around or leaped over any obstacles in his path. A turned over apple-cart proved to be a perfect stepping stone as he shoved off with his left foot and somersaulted over a group of people either snatching fruit from the ground or snatching fruit from others' hands. Another over-turned wagon he leaped on top of, then pushed off like a springboard and landed, dived and rolled, then resumed running. He ran to his right and ran along a wall like some sort of insect when a huge gathering of citizens blocked his path. All the while, he never lost any ground on the ​

speeding half-wagon--in fact, it looked like he had gained slightly. ​

Bugger it all back to me granny! Jack thought furiously, Why won't this bugger quit? (He was getting very angry and afraid at the same time)​

However, they were now approaching the bridge that ran over a canal running through the town. ​

A fleeting thought took hold in his head.​

"Get ready, Mister Gibbs!"​

"Fer WHAT?" Gibbs queried.​

Jack failed to elucidate--which scared the fishens out of Gibbs.​

The notorious pirate grabbed a special grenade from his belt, grabbed a torch as they passed by it, managed to light it somehow without scorching anything else, and threw it over his shoulder.​

The grenade blew up with an extremely loud series of bangs and incredibly thick billows of smoke filled the space between them and Ben, who had flinched at the grenade going off. Standing still for the first time in a while, Ben closed his eyes instinctively.​

"Yes!" Jack whooped--then grabbed Gibbs by the collar and together the two of them hurdled out of the wagon.​

"Ahhh!!" Gibbs and Jack simultaneously screamed as they tumbled into the canal below. When they hit the murky water it caused a colossal splash that was easily heard by Ben, who instantly darted forward through the fog. Once clear of the smoke, he looked at the still speeding chariot--but saw no passengers.​

A brief pause ensued, then Ben looked down into the canal and saw nothing there either--at least, nothing of interest at the moment.​

Ben actually chuckled.​

They seriously don't think that I am THAT stupid, do they?​

Evidently they thought so, because Sparrow and Gibbs were silently moving up the canal by clinging to grooves and mismatched bricks, leveraging themselves bit-by-bit to the next available handheld.​

Ben would have seen them if he'd looked off the other side of the bridge, but he didn't need to.​

Ben pointed his sword at the water. It immediately began to become choppy and wavy, liberally spraying the notorious captain and his First Mate with semi-stagnant water from the canal. Ben tightened his grip on the sword and then held it high over his head. Instantly the water began to rise like a giant, wet carpet. It continued to rise until it began to rise higher than the buildings--carrying the shocked Captain Jack Sparrow and Gibbs with it.​

"Jump!" Jack shouted, tumbling off the wall of water. ​

Gibbs didn't argue with this idea-anything to get away from this devil of a man was welcome to him at the moment. He followed his Captain in leaping away from this predicament. They landed on the tiled rooftops of Port Royal, somehow managing not to crash through the rooftop. They regained their feet and leaped to the next available roof.​

Strangely, Ben did not try to pursue. Instead, he turned his attention to a seemingly normal scene near him and pointed his sword. A golden globe began to form and expand almost instantly in front of him.​

None of this was heeded by Jack or Gibbs. They darted from rooftop to rooftop across Port Royal, trying to avoid the Navy troops that had finally gotten their act together and were in hot pursuit of the two pirates. A pair of Navy Cadets chose to climb up a few ladders directly in the path of the notorious pirates. Their heads popped over the edge of the rooftop just as Gibbs and Jack drew near the edge. Unfortunately for the Cadets, yet fortunate for Jack and Gibbs, their heads proved to be perfect stepping-stones for the pirates' booted feet as they shoved off the three-cornered hat-covered heads of the Cadets and ​

leaped onto the sloped, tiled roof of the next building. The Cadets tumbled off the ladder and landed flat on their backs below, knocking the air out of their bodies with an "Oof!".​

Bullets whizzed across the rooftops (isn't it ridiculous that the Navy are such lousy marksmen?), smoke billowed from muskets and pistols, shouts of frustration and/or commands (depending on the Navy's ranking) filled the town as the Navy attempted unsuccessfully to capture the two fleeing pirates, who seemed to be tireless.​

The Navy was not alone in their efforts, however--as they were all about to find out (if they didn't already know that). ​

A golden blotch of light appeared in an instant directly in the pirates' path. A faint sound akin to a sharp whistle was heard, yet grew audibly as the globe became larger and wider--then the entire episode vanished completely, leaving a tall figure with a gleaming sword in its place.​

Ben smiled grimly at the two astonished pirates.​

"AHH!" Jack screamed and the two pirates turned to dart away but were instantly thwarted when Ben leaped forward, grabbed them by the scruff of their collars--and flung them off the roof in a seemingly simple move. Gibbs fared better than Jack--he landed face-first in a pile of hay. Jack bounced off of one lantern pole on the building, ricocheted off another, slammed into a vendor and finally landed flat on his back next to where Gibbs was still in the hay pile.​

Jack groaned and swore as he shakily regained his feet while Gibbs stumbled out of the haystack, and together they began to move again.​

Ben muttered under his breath, then pointed his sword at the two pirates. Twin bolts of lightning seemed to spring from the sword--and struck the staggering duo. They shuddered and jolted as they were, quite literally, struck by lightning. Then they collapsed, twitching and in internal agony.​

"Hello, there." A voice intruded upon their misery. The two pirates moved around enough to spot a smug-looking Commodore Charles Morrison standing nearby with a group of Navy Veterans and Officers. ​

"Bo-og-er," Jack stuttered as he writhed and twitched.​

"You can say that again, Sparrow," Morrison smirked, puffing his chest out a little bit more.​

Jack looked at Gibbs, then at the various Navy surrounding them, then at Morrison again...​

...and grinned weakly, "Bo-oger."​

Morrison rolled his eyes at the behavior of the pirate lord. For all the emotion he was displaying, he could've been anywhere else BUT in their position.​

A sound halfway between a crash and a pillow hitting the ground caused Morrison and part of his men to turn around and stare as Ben strode slowly up to them, another "sun" behind him instantly fading away until no sign of it remained.​

"Benjamin..?" Morrison hesitantly asked, fingering his cutlass and pondering on whether it would be a safe move--or a smart one--to draw it.​

"Commodore," Ben nodded in response.​

Then his glowing eyes flickered and blinked, then ceased to glow completely and returned to their normal brown. The P also ceased to glitter, but it remained like a brand on his cheek. ​

"W-what just happened?" Morrison queried, hating the stutter in his speech.​

Ben looked down at the gleaming sword in his hand.​

"I....don't know..."​

 

[Ben Cabingrin]

The prison on Port Royal was not the greatest ever made, but neither was it the worst. It served the purpose that it was designed for: To keep in people stuck in the barred cells of the dungeons, even if the one holding the keys to the cells was a dog. Jack glanced out of the window wistfully.
"Captain Jack Sparrow...stuck in prison like a common criminal."
"Begging yer pardon, Cap'n, to these fellas there ain't a difference between us and them," Gibbs was sitting on the floor, using the bunk as support for his back. He would've stretched out on the bunk, but his captain was using it for a stool.
Jack seemed not to hear his friend's statement. Shaking his head and mumbling, he glanced around the adjacent cells where prisoners vainly attempted to lure the dog with the keys in its mouth.
"They even stuck me in the exact same cell I was in before," Jack shook his head again.
"Jack, will ye stop that? Yer making me nervous."
"Making YOU nervous?" Jack turned to face Gibbs, "How can you be so calm being cooped up in a hen's cage? Or from being thrown off of a rooftop like a sack of barley? Or from being struck by lightning caused by a SWORD?!"
"Don't remind me," Gibbs held up a hand in protest, "I'm not easily getting over it either, Jack."
"Then why, pray tell, are you just sitting there and I'M pacing around?"
"Cause ye hate being outsmarted."
Jack paused, "True...I thought that dumb mutt was me dad's." Jack gestured to the still-sitting dog, the keys still hanging from its mouth.
"This is a different dog than the first. The first ran off with two fellas that escaped from here a long time ago," A prisoner spoke up from two cells over.
"Pintel and Ragetti.." Gibbs muttered.
"Say what, Mister Gibbs?"
"T'was Pintel and Ragetti, sir."
Jack seemed to take this in for a moment.
"I know that, Gibbs. What an easy deduction to make," Jack waved his arms around as he spoke, then paused and scratched his head, "Who's Pintel and Ragetti?"
Gibbs sighed. Jack would never change.
"The fellow with the wooden eye and his friend."
"Ah, yes! Those two fools. Pintel with his wooden eye and that-,"
"Beggin' the Cap'n's pardon, sir, Ragetti was the one with the wooden eye. Pintel was the one who liked to shout a lot."
"I thought it was the other way around," Jack protested.
"No, sir," Gibbs rubbed his forehead with his fingers.
"Well, that just tears it. Why did they have to be so confusing so as to confuse THE Captain Jack Sparrow's great and eager mind?" Jack shook his head, "People just are plain queer nowadays."
"Speaking of oddities, Cap'n, why did we even come to Port Royal in the first place?" Gibbs queried, "Seems to me we'd 'ave been better off if we'd a stayed away from here."
"Mister Gibbs," Jack said rather haughtily, "There are more important things to consider, such as one's life, than your own misgivings about coming to an area that these scoundrels think they control."
"Jack, they DO control it, and in coming here we're most likely in more danger than if we hadn't come here."
"So say you, Gibbs...," Jack said with a strange note in his voice.
Gibbs didn't want to ask about the sudden change. He shifted around in able to be as comfortable as he could, then attempted to will himself into taking a nap-after all, what else was there to do?



Meanwhile, up at the Governor's mansion, there was an entirely different scenario being played out.
"Why did you turn into a demon when you held the sword?" Cornwallis Mallory asked as he paced by the window.
"I've told you already a dozen times before," Ben blew out an exasperated sigh, "I do NOT know. There, this makes the thirteenth time."
The scene was similar to a prisoner's interrogation. Ben was across from the rest of the Mallory family, Commodore Charles Morrison, and Nate, all but one of them seated in luxurious chairs that were placed in a semi-circle around Ben, who was seated right between his adoptive mother's half-accusatory, half-fearful gaze and Morrison's fully confrontational stare, not to mention Ben feeling that the sword itself was watching him, sitting on its rack directly in front of him. Between this, the constant badgering by his adoptive father and his own bewilderment at the day's events, Ben's restraint on his emotions were cracking.
"I've held that sword a number of times, and never have I changed-"
"Look, I told you what happened, and you saw me change. I wish I knew why it happened or even WHAT happened, and IF I did I would be telling you right here and now-but I don't," Ben spoke with barely controlled anger in his voice.
"Ben, we've read a lot of stories in our lives," Mary spoke up from where she sat in the straight-back chair, "But I've never heard or seen anything in those tales that is remotely similar to your...your change, except for-well, demons."
"I did NOT turn into a demon!" Ben finally blew his cork.
Mary winced, Abigail recoiled slightly, and Morrison's glare actually lost some of its heat for a moment before returning in full strength.
"Then what DID you turn into?" Cornwallis wheeled around to face Ben.
For once, Ben could not answer. He could only sit there with a vacant, angry look on his face as he stared at the offending weapon.
"That is what I thought," Cornwallis snorted.
It tore at Mary to see the look on Ben's face, for never once before in his life had he portrayed himself to be lost, confused, angry, and/or apprehensive at all during his life, much less all at once.
A pair of maids stepped inside the mansion, one carefully balancing an array of glasses and bottles of spirits, the other a lantern that was blown out as soon as they stepped inside the brilliantly-lit confines of the mansion. This distracting element was enough to halt the discussion--at least for the moment, which was a great relief to Ben.
"By the saints, it is a very bleak night out there, Governor," One spoke as the door was shut.
"Indeed 'tis," Cornwallis glanced out the window again. Fog and shadows hung over the island like a monstrous billow of smoke. The moon was out, but was for the most part covered by clouds.
"That's odd, there was only a few clouds to be seen in the sky earlier.." Morrison cast a pointed look at Ben.
Ben caught his implication, "If you think I caused this...your head's even more vacant than I thought!"
Morrison's nostrils flared as he straightened even further and glowered at Ben, looking like he wanted to strangle the young man there and then. Nate and Mary had to struggle in order to suppress their mirth.
By the saints, Nate thought while suppressing a particularly big burst of chuckling, And to think that he was the one trying to placate ME earlier!
"That's quite enough, young man!" Cornwallis snapped, "You apologize to him right now!"
"What for?" Ben queried.
"Wha-What for?!" The Governor sputtered, "Why, you impudent-"
"Save it, Father," Mary interrupted, just as headedly as her father, "You know that Ben wouldn't do anything malicious, however trivial the matter."
"That's right," Nate nodded first at Ben, then at Mary, "I can't blame the Commodore for coming to the opposite conclusion, though. It's not his fault that he can't recognize friend from foe."
"Hold it."
Everything seemed to stop at the tone of Ben's voice. The Governor and the Commodore halted in unison from uttering some nasty retort and everyone looked at Ben, who had risen from his chair while the arguing had going on between them. His head was turned to one side and his eyes had narrowed with intent concentration, as if he was trying to single out some noise.
"What is it now?" Morrison asked with intense annoyance.
Ben did not reply, indeed it looked as if he hadn't heard. Suddenly coming to life, he walked rapidly to the doors, swung them wide open, and strode a few steps forward. The group gathered behind him, if more slowly than he had moved. None of them had any inclination of what he had heard or thought he'd heard-in fact there was hardly a sound to be heeded, just the typical sounds of the sea, the even fainter sounds of the more questionable inhabitants of Port Royal-namely the scum that had a portion of the town all to themselves, the only other place they dared venturing being the harbor and from there to the seas.
However, there were no other sounds out of the ordinary.
"What are you trying to do, BENjamin, avoid a direct line of questioning?" Cornwallis growled.
"Shut up."
"You do NOT say somethi-" The Governor began heatedly.
Whatever his comment was, he wasn't able to finish it.
Ben suddenly stiffened, then whirled around, arms extended like rods, and smashed everyone back through the doors as a faint streaking sound was heard. Just as everyone tumbled to the floor, a series of cannonballs whistled overhead and crashed through the mansion. If they'd all been standing there a second longer, they would've been torn into pieces.
"W-w-we're under attack!" Cornwallis shrieked.
It was strange the things you noticed in a moment of stress such as this, but Ben saw specifically a few things: One, his father's wig was hanging to the side about two inches, another was that Morrison actually rolled his eyes at the Governor's terrorized screech.
More importantly, there had not been any sound of a cannon firing, yet there had been a flurry of cannonballs.
Then some strange part of Ben's brain kicked in and he began thinking of the attackers, defence tactics, and how best to keep everyone safe.
Why the focus on keeping EVERYONE safe?
Ben forced the thought out of his mind and lunged to his feet, helping his sister and mother up as well.
"We need to get down there, Commodore!" Nate shouted as he too made it to his feet. Screams and panicked shouting could now be heard from the direction of Port Royal's town square.
"I need to get down there, the rest of you take shelter here! I will return once-!"
"Commodore, I can contribute-!"
Morrison whirled about to face him, glaring, "HOW CAN A MERCHANT HELP DEFEND A TOWN?!"
Nate went white with rage, but before he could do anything, Ben grabbed his shoulder, glanced at the sword, hesitated, then began to run out the door with Nate in tow.
Morrison moved to block their path, "I said-"
Ben hit him in the chest with the flat of his palm. The blow, a light one at that, was enough to send him flying backwards out the door and safely out of their way.
Shoulder to shoulder, Ben and Nate ran down towards the docks.


More to come! There will be more action in the next chapter!