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The Chalice of Doom	By : Jessica66 Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > General Views: 2364 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
11.
The Slayer of Granada

They
say Tortuga never sleeps and it's true. It's quieter at daytime though, when the
drunks sleep in the gutter and the mood was far less aggressive, no one was
fighting, no one fired his pistol. But the dock area looked worse in the bright
sunlight and the smell, well, the smell was just incredibly. It smelled of sweat,
human excrements and dead fish rotting in the damp heat. Then you see a drunkard
lying in his own vomit and you're not surprised at anything, anymore. And the
bars and taverns were open around the clock, seven days the week, to produce
even more drunks; it was a never-ending circulation. Whenever someone was
boozed-up enough and fell off the chair someone else awoke from delirium and
filled that place. Also there were so many doxies in Tortuga that no man's
desire would ever be unfulfilled; one could assume they worked in shifts as
well. Yet there are still men who consider every woman fair game�

One
of them, a particularly ugly example of mankind, bumped into Rowan Scarlett when
she left her ship, eager to get a drink before she met Santiago, and therefore
she wasn't in the best mood.

"'ello darlin'! Fancy a screw?"

Definitely
not!

"Don't
ye dare to paw me woman!" Jack snorted, eyes narrowed dangerously while his
hand reached for his pistol. But Rowan reacted faster than he could interfere,
unceremoniously ramming her knee in the bastard's balls. He howled, writhing
with pain in the filthy street.

"Now
that'll teach ye a lesson." Jack pretentiously brandished his pistol in
front of the bloke's nose, behaving as if he'd been the one who'd sent him to
the ground.

"Well,
thanks for yer support, luv." Rowan said with cool cynicism and very little
patience, then she sighed. "Damned, I really need a drink now."

"Ah,
and I'm the one who'll buy ye a drink. My woman should never be in need of
anything." he boasted in his typical Captain-Jack-Sparrow-manner, wrapped a
possessive arm around her shoulders and led her towards the Faithful Bride.

Men!
she thought, feeling rather tempted to knock his head with the big Spanish book
he'd given her, the one that revealed Santiago's past. Oh, she really hated it
when he was so boastful, treating her
like his favourite possession; in fact, he seemed to enjoy showing-off
with her.

He
ignored all the women who greeted him with a certain familiarity- mostly whores,
Rowan could that tell by the way they dressed- and he himself was a bit
surprised how many there were. It would have also surprised him how quickly
gossip spread and that rumours had already rushed ahead them when they finally
entered the Faithful Bride.

Allegedly
Captain Jack Sparrow has a new favourite,
the whores whispered among themselves, jealously guessing who that might be and
how she would look like. It was only when Rowan walked in at Jack's side that
they fell silent and stared at her.

Apparently
she wasn't at all what they had expected her to be, but she couldn't have cared
less. She just wanted to get to the bar, have a good gulp of
rum, and then leave again. But sometimes things never happen the way you want
them to. Instead of passing through the room with the dignity of a pirate
captain equal to the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, Rowan stumbled and shook
hands with the floor. The whores shrieked with joy and started gibbering once
more.

"What
a clumsy chick� bah- and she wears man's clothes! No real woman would
do that� she's got no style at all. � and she's got small tits� I really
wonder what Jack sees in her� maybe she's hexed poor Jack�
just look at her hair�"

Rowan
shook off Jack's helping hand impatiently; she got on her feet and her
storm-clouded eyes roamed through the tavern. She didn't mind some whores'
opinion nor making a fool of herself sometimes, but that was too much. Finally
her gaze fell on the one who was responsible for it, the one who had tripped
her.

"Are
ye lookin' for trouble, Anamaria?" she asked coldly.

"No. NO. NO!" Jack sensed trouble, perhaps even a fight, therefore he grabbed Rowan's
arm and dragged her to the bar, barking at the barkeeper to bring a bottle of
rum. Then he did something incredible stupid. Maybe he wanted to make sure that
Captain Jack Sparrow's choice was not to be doubted, maybe he only wanted to
prove her his affection- nevertheless, kissing her here and now was definitely
not his wisest decision. She knew it since she really felt Anamaria
looking daggers at her and besides, she wasn't in the mood. So she tried to
struggle away from him but failed; he held her clasped in a vice-like grip.
After all, he was Captain Jack Sparrow so he couldn't be rejected, if he wanted
a kiss he would get one. Defiantly she bit his lower lip until she tasted blood
on her tongue but even that didn't stop him. If possible, it only encouraged him
to ravage her mouth with wild determination and an almost brutal passion,
especially when her body finally betrayed her. She couldn't help but to reply
that kiss with the same ferocity as if they wanted to rape each other. Yet they
managed to keep their composure somehow, because the cheering of some pirates
reminded them that they weren't in privacy- though none in Tortuga would have
minded a public fuck; that was on every day's agenda anyway. They broke their
kiss but not their embrace, staring at each other breathless.

"Sorry."
Jack whispered nearly inaudibly in her ear, brushing a wisp of hair off her
face.

"Ah,
what else to expect from a pirate but mad pirate-love." Rowan took the
bottle from the bar to have a good swig of rum and then she winced since the
liquor burned like fire on her swollen lips. With a little demonic smile she
passed the bottle to Jack. "Have a drink, luv."

A
golden grin flashed up on his face as he grabbed the bottle with one hand and
her backside with the other, pressing her hips to his erection; she shuddered
with lust. Now, that's exactly how he liked women, wantonly, offering him rum.
But when he drank he winced even more than Rowan had done and clenched his teeth.

"Guess
I've really deserved that, aye?" he gasped.

She
didn't answer because there was no reasonable answer. Instead she tried to focus
her slightly oversexed mind on the things she'd come for in the first place,
such as confronting Santiago with his past. With a heavy heart she let go of
Jack and picked up the precious Spanish book again, suddenly feeling rather
nervous.

"Best
I get it over and done with." she sighed and had another mouthful of rum,
ignoring her burning lips; at least it calmed her stomach.

"We
get it over and done." Jack stressed and searched for his hat that had gone
off on its own during their little struggle. Finally restored in all his
mischievous glory he demonstratively offered Rowan his arm, quite pleased with
himself.

Damned
beloved fool, she
thought and rolled her eyes. Now, that would really infuriate Anamaria-
therefore she gratefully accepted his offer, passing the jealous bitch with her
head held high. In fact, someone who tripped her wasn't worth a second
thought let alone being scared of. She had to face more serious problems and one
of them was a once trusted Spaniard who'd apparently failed to mention that he
was more than two-hundred-and-many-more years old and therefore probably not
human. A Spaniard she wanted to confront with the truth she had found out about
him, hoping for a reasonable explanation but expecting� the unexpected.
Somehow she was glad that Jack accompanied her, although that would perhaps
raise even more problems since Santiago didn�t seem to be too fond of Jack.

Lost
in thoughts she headed to the old town of Cayona, to a maze of cobble-stoned
alleys full of corners. Here, away from the docks area, the town actually had a
certain charm since most houses were decorated with flowers. But Rowan didn't
notice these things now, neither the cool shade in the narrow alleys nor the
sweet scent of exotic blossoms. Her heart was beating a bit faster when she
finally reached Santiago's house, the gates were wide open revealing the
courtyard with its marble fountain. She took a deep breath and entered.

"Rowan,
my dear girl!" Somehow Santiago managed to sound surprised to see, although
she knew damned well that he had already expected her. He made an inviting
gesture. "Please, join us for lunch." Then he saw Jack and the smile
left his face. "What are you doing here? Haven't I told you to leave my
house? You're not welcome here, ever again."

Will
and Elisabeth, who were just having lunch with Santiago, felt rather
uncomfortable. Though they would have liked to welcome Jack they didn't dare
since Santiago had been such a nice and generous host to them so far; they
simply didn't want to annoy him. Rowan had no such intention. Actually she was
in the right mood for trouble. Defiantly she looked at Santiago.

"First, I'm not your dear girl,
and second," She grabbed Jack's arm, helping him to decide whether to stay
or leave. "you stay here."
Santiago
raised a brow; apparently he'd already figured her out. "Ah- now, that's
interesting. So you've enjoyed being stranded on an island with that rascal. Let
me guess how you spent your time there."

"It's
not the way you think, Alf, honestly. I can explain it." Jack gave the
impression of a little boy caught doing something forbidden; he stared at his
boots and nibbled his lips though it hurt.

"I'm
really dying for that explanation."

"Oh
no, darling, our conscience is clear." Rowan interrupted, addressing Jack
who was a bit stunned- did she really just called him darling? Well,
there might be no better way to annoy Alf completely. Anyway, Elisabeth had
heard it too. Her gaze wandered to and fro between the two of them, while the
expression on her face seemed to say: Ha! I knew it! But her romantic thoughts
didn't stand up Rowan's direct way to face facts. "We had sex on the beach-
so what? Well, some of those present may think that shocking and immoral but I
really doubt that some of those present haven't done even more immoral things in
their lives. What do you think is worse, Santiago? Having sex on the beach or
once being called the Slayer of Granada?"

With
these words she tossed the book on the table, opening it where the bookmark was
so that Santiago had to face his own picture. Somehow it was spooky seeing him
both alive and portrayed true to life as well, always remembering the bloody
date. 1492.

"Now,
if you're so keen on explanations- can you explain that to me?"

The
Spaniard didn't answer. Maybe it was for the first time ever that Rowan saw him
really, really shocked. He went deathly pale and his eyes stared at her
horrified.

"Where
did you get that from?" he whispered nearly inaudible.

"Does
it matter? Would it change the bloody fucking fact that you've deceived me ever
since I met you? Or have you really simply failed to mention that you're more
than two-hundred years old and therefore probably not human?" Rowan asked
him very outraged, impatiently running her fingers through her hair. "Damned,
you better tell me right now who you are and what you are!"

Santiago
buried his face in his hands, looking really miserable, tired and old. "I
never wanted you to find it out that way. You're absolutely right my dear, I
should have told you. But how, and when? When is the opportune moment to
confess the horrible truth, that I am in fact 246 years old but haven't
aged the last two-hundred years?"

Elisabeth
drew a sharp breath, shocked but also somehow fascinated, while Will moved
closer to his wife, now seeing their nice and generous host with completely
different eyes. Who was the man his hospitality they had enjoyed these past days?
What was he?

"Do you see what I mean, Rowan?
To be honest, I never wanted to see that look on your face, suspicious,
sceptical whether to trust me or not, even detesting. I never wanted you to
loathe me."
"Then better tell me the damned
truth." She confirmed her
matter of concern by thumping on the table with her fist. "Have I been
raised by a monster?"
"Well,
mayhap I've been a monster once, only I didn't know it then. Still, I'm human-
cut me and I'll bleed. Yet I cannot die. I've
done dreadful things once and therefore I was punished, therefore I was cursed."

"Cursed? As cursed as Barbossa
and his crew of miscreants?" Jack wondered curiously. "But you're not�
unfeeling� like they were. Yet you're immortal, like you said, and I
saw you eating and drinking; I even know how much you enjoy good food." His
thoughts began to roam a little bit too far. "How about the other things? I
mean, taking for granted that ye're no eunuch�"
The Turners coughed slightly
embarrassed, Rowan just rolled her eyes, and Santiago shot him a scornful gaze.
"Ah, shut up Sparrow. Has none
ever taught you at least a little decency?"
"As decent as Morgan?" Rowan
snapped with a voice that could freeze the Caribbean. Santiago turned to face
her and for a moment everyone present held his breath, not knowing what would
transpire next. Jack slightly touched her arm, warning her wordless not to go
too far and although he was quite sure that Alf would never harm Rowan, it was
always better to be safe than sorry. But it was the Spaniard who looked away
first.
"So he told you about Panama,
very clever. Appealing to your sympathy so that you would ally yourselves
against me, and apparently he'd succeeded." Santiago sighed, seeming more
sad than annoyed. Then he looked at her again. "Well, he might have won
your heart with his doubtful charm but I'm quite sure that he hasn't told you
about his involvement in�"
"That was only due to my
own folly." Rowan cut him short, not wanting to hear the same old stories
again and again. Her eyes narrowed. "Jack has told me. How odd, he's
actually told me more about him by now than you've ever done."
"Has he also told you how he
treated Bill when we finally found him with the rum runners, drugged and drunk?
He called him a mutineer and�"
"Wait!" Will cried out,
looking desperately at Jack. "Does that mean you have seen my father alive after
Barbossa had allegedly sent him to Davy Jones' locker? You knew all the
time that my father's not dead and you've never told me?"
It seldom happened that the infamous
Captain Jack Sparrow didn't know what to say. His hands performed an useless
dance in the air, searching for the right words he would never find. After all
was said and done he only wished for the ground to open and swallow him.
"Hush, whelp. Jack didn't wanna
raise yer hopes for nothing since he knew not if yer father's still alive; after
all, ten years is a very long time." Rowan threw in for Jack's defence, and
though it was a white lie it sounded so credible that even Jack himself believed
it.
"Aye, that's it." A
self-satisfied smile flashed across his face. "I didn't wanna raise wrong
hopes and..."
Before Jack could start spinning a
yarn, Rowan focussed everybody's thoughts on the main topic again and that
wasn't Bill Turner's life but Santiago's. She gazed sharply at the Spaniard.
"Nice attempt to distract! Instead of finally telling me the truth, all ye
do is try to slag off Jack. Damned, ye make me so sick! I really wanted to give
ye a chance to explain."
"And you've got every right to
hear the truth, my dear." He sighed, knowing that he would lose her forever
if he wasn't honest with her now. Yet it was hard, so hard to find the right
beginning. It would be much easier if he could tell Rowan the story of his
lifetime in private. But Will and Elisabeth had already heard too much to send
them away, and Jack- no chance at all. Probably that bloody scallywag had the
same right as Rowan to hear the truth. "All right, make yourselves
comfortable, whelps."

"My name is Miguel Alfonso de
Santiago and I was born as second son to a Spanish nobleman back in 1446. At
that time, medieval Europe was even more superstitious and irrational religious
than it is now. Traditions were very important and strictly to be kept.
Therefore, I knew the path my life would take from the moment I was born. The
firstborn inherits the estates, the second joins the army and the third becomes
a priest- that was the rule, set up generations before me. And because I was
taught devoutness and obedience in the first place, I never doubted my part in
society. I was a good, obedient son, so I joined the army without questioning it;
instead I did my best that my father could be proud of me. A rapid rise lay
before me.
Then, in 1478, Ferdinand of Aragon and
Isabella of Castalia united their kingdoms by marriage to become one realm under
one power and one religion, blessed by the Pope in Rome who gave then the
glorious title Los Reyes Catholicos. Only the existence of the heathen
Moorish kingdoms of Granada and Navarra spoiled their plans of a pure Christian
state, and to me, they had every right to free Spain from those unbelievers;
their crusade was unquestionable mine as well. It was a long fight though,
lasting eleven years. I was already an officer when we took in Malaga in 1487
and sold nearly the whole population into slavery, yet it didn't break their
resistance. They still had one last stronghold, and that was Granada, ruled by
Abul Hassan Ali Abu Abdallah, called Boabdil. Nevertheless, four years later all
but Granada was freed from the Moors and under Christian control again, and we
besieged the city during a long cold winter. The Moors ran out of supply; there
was just no day without any escape attempt yet my unit caught them all and made
the heathens pay for their boldness. This got me the attention of the King
Ferdinand himself. His Royal and Most Catholic Majesty granted me an audience
and decorated me with the medal of bravery. I was so proud�"
Santiago paused; shaking his head lost
in thoughts� a proud, na�ve fool knowing nothing. Now I'm
old and yet not much wiser, still egoistic. He looked at his audience. The
lovely honeymoon couple, Will and Elisabeth Turner, sat on a sofa, his strong
arm around her slender shoulders, and the two pirates sprawled on some pillows
on the floor, sharing a bottle of rum.
"That must have been a great
honour to you." Elisabeth assumed, misunderstanding the pause as a
sentimental moment.
"Oh, it definitely was, then. I
got decorated because I did whatever I was told, like a puppet-on-strings. I was
the good son, the brave soldier and most of all the faithful Catholic, defending
the Christian ideology against unbelievers, heathens. They had to convert or
die- it was just that simple.
Boabdil- or el rey chicos as we
called him- cut a poor figure in negotiating Granada's surrender, tired of
fighting he forgot to claim any commitments of safety for his people, be it the
right to keep their religion, their property or their culture. As it was an evil
culture, contrary to the true faith, archbishop Jimenez immediately confiscated
all books; they were the first to burn. There are lists about these successful
exorcisms- today they only speak of unbelievable intolerance and led-astray
ideology. They destroyed almost a million books, burned knowledge of inestimable
value." He sighed, extremely
sorry for all these precious knowledge going up in flames so long ago. "Then,
I appreciated it, since these were heathen documents, written by unbelievers.
After the fall of Granada it was my task to track down any Moor in the town,
giving them the chance to convert and be baptized, or to die. That was just
right by me. Who was I anyway not to fulfil my King's wish?
Of course I was eager to do whatever His Most Catholic Majesty told me. I
would have rather died than fallen from His grace. So we searched every house in
Granada for hidden heathen rebels, and treacherously heathen rebels we found
everywhere, lurking in corners only to kill good Christians. Soon we all got
extremely nervous and our weapons were easy at hand. Then it happened, the
incident that changed my life. We were in the caves of Sacromonte
hill where the Moors preferred to hide recently, trying to escape the divine
justice of the Inquisition. Suddenly I felt that someone was behind me so I
didn't hesitate to turn around and shoot. I was quite shocked when I saw that
I've just shot a little girl, a child- but not as shocked as the child's
grandmother was. The old gypsy stared at me with awfully black eyes, blank like
a mirror made in hell. Then she spoke these words I should never ever forget.

Cursed
shall thou be,

murderer
of me beloved.

Shall
thou live and ne'er die

dwell
forever upon yer unholy deed.

A
child's blood shed

shall
only be repaid

by
unconditional love for another

then
thou may be free

I must admit that I only laughed about
it when I heard it first. I didn't take it serious, of course not. Instead, I
told the soldiers subordinated to my command, that they should arrest that
wicked old witch and submit her to the Inquisition. Like many others she burned
at the stakes on Campo
del Principe, and for a few years I nearly forgot that incident."

For
quite a while already Rowan could hardly restrain herself, only curiosity and
rum had kept her quiet yet- and Jack's talent to pass the bottle always at the
opportune moment. Nevertheless, she was the powder keg and Santiago was the one
who constantly gave off sparks, and it was just a matter of time until she would
explode. There were only a few things she loathed more than narrow-minded,
religious fanatics, and hearing with her own ears that Santiago had been one,
that he had voluntarily participated in that horrifying Inquisition was really a
shock to her.

"Ah,
now that's were ye got the doubtful title Slayer of Granada from, aye? How many
innocents have ye sent to the stake?" she snorted contemptuously. "My
sympathies for the old gypsy woman, she had every right to curse ye. I only wish
she'd chosen something else but immortality of all things."

"So
you think immortality isn't suitable as a punishment? You're wrong with that.
Actually, immortality itself is a curse. Just think about it- you're bound to
live forever, you don't even age yet all others do, your friends, lovers,
children. People start to wonder, start to say things behind your back, that
there's something odd about you. At that time being called odd was
extremely dangerous since the Inquisition ruled the land with an iron hand;
arrests were on the agenda as well as denunciation, and intolerance gave birth
to wrong accusations.

But
I, I didn't notice anything when I came home, highly decorated for defending the
Christian ideology against the heathens. For
a few years I enjoyed my life as a very respected member of society; I had a
decent marriage, two well-bred children and of course I went to mass with my
family every Sunday. My reputation was taintless, the curse of the gypsy
woman from Granada was long forgotten if ever been taken serious at all� It
took me years to realize that my hair didn't turn any greyer nor fell out and
that the wrinkles on my face just remained the way they were- to cut it short, I
didn't seem to age yet my wife did and so did my children. Then I heard people
talk behind my back, whispering that there's something odd about me. Rumours
went around and suddenly even close friends avoided my gaze but secretly made
the sign against evil eye when I walked by. Superstition took over control, the
fear of the unknown, the inexplicable. Soon they forgot that I had been their
hero once, that I had spent many years of my life fighting the unbelievers to
establish a kingdom under one power and one religion. I became an outsider more
and more, and my good reputation dissolved completely when some agents of the
Inquisition arrived in the village I lived.

Ah,
I knew the auto-da-fes in which the Inquisition judged too well, I had witnessed
it too many times. Though my conscience was clear, I suddenly realized that I
had no faith in the divine justice of the Inquisition if my own life is
concerned. I had to disappear before they could start to ask unpleasant
questions I had no answer for. Now, isn't it ironic? The heroic Slayer of
Granada who had hunted down so many heathens was to become a victim himself. And
then, while I ran through the night, the pursuers hard on my heels, there was
that voice in my head again, pulsing in my blood.
Shall
thou live and ne'er die, dwell forever upon yer unholy deed.
It struck me like thunder- the curse. But no, I still refused
to believe it because these were unholy thoughts, blasphemy. Yet it was true. In
the dark, black hours of that night I had to realize that it was true. I was
cursed. I should have prayed for my soul now but I couldn't, I couldn't find the
words. I had lost it all, my home, my family, my friends, and in these same dark,
black hours of said night I also lost my faith."

"Well
mate, it seems to me that granny had a rather sick sense of humour, aye?"
Jack interjected with a certain thrill in his voice, he loved good stories and
that was definitely one; yet he also had sympathy with Santiago- or Alf, as he
called him.

"So it seems indeed," the
Spaniard replied gloomily. "The curse made my life a misery and I was very
embittered first, not willing to accept my fate. For a few years I hid in the
woods and pitied myself, even tried to kill myself- which, of course, didn't
work. I crept back to my home town a couple of times, saw my wife dying, my
children falling ill with pestilence� they were buried but I still lived on.
Then I became cynical and thought, well, if I have to life forever, I should
better do it with more style. Gold became my new God, and I hoarded lots of it
in dubious trades close to the edge of legality, when I heard of immense wealth
that can be found in the Spanish colonies. Now, having already bought a new name
and identity I decided to try my luck there, so I sailed to the West Indies.
Maybe that journey finally opened my eyes. I saw beautiful islands but also as
much tragedy. The Spaniards had 'christianised' the New World with the same
methods they'd conquered Granada, with sword and oppression, slaying the Tainos
that lived there like they'd slain the Moors. Actually it had even been the
wealth of Granada that got them to the West Indies since King Ferdinand and
Queen Isabella had granted Columbus an audience shortly after they had taken in
the town; they received him in the Alhambra and graciously agreed to pay his
voyage to India. So, blood money was used for more bloodshed, and all the gold
ever to be gained there would also be tainted with blood. Maybe for the first
time ever my conscience stirred, my real conscience and not the one I was taught.
Instead of exploiting the natives I lived with them for a while. The Tainos were
gentle people, peaceful and friendly- and contrary to official statements no
animals. From them I learned a lot about the nature and for the time I lived
with them I was nearly at peace with myself; nevertheless I couldn't delay the
decline of their culture. They were decimated, sold into slavery, and I, I left
the West Indies with the same unrest that drove me there. Like a passenger of
time I travelled the world for some decades, and I learned. Knowledge became my
newest drug. I studied at the most famous universities of this time, learned to
speak many different tongues, but all the knowledge I achieved couldn't free me
of my curse. Then I discovered forbidden arts, the art of magic. Impatient,
eager to learn and still rather cynical I almost made my biggest mistake- I
nearly chose the dark side. Fortunately, someone prevented me from going that
path; it was a blind Siamese woman with the gift to look deep into the soul of a
man. She knew immediately who I was and what I was- a doomed man of 151 years
who still hasn't found his own way. So she took me by the hand and guided me, a
blind woman made me see."
"You fell in love with her?"
Elisabeth asked, so innocent in her romantic ideals that Santiago's face cheered
up for a second. None else but her would have dared to ask this question and
nevertheless he didn't answer at once, instead he sighed sadly.
"I should have known better but I
had no chance. My marriage with Elena had been arranged and though I had grown
quite fond of her over the years, I had never been in love before I met Aunchun.
She was as gentle as she was wise, always at peace with herself and the rest of
the world. I owe her so much. The years we had are still my most precious ones
and when she died it nearly broke my heart, although I knew from the start that
this would happen one day."
"My dearest sympathies, Don
Miguel. This is quite tragic." Elisabeth shuddered at the very thought that
she might lose her beloved Will one day, and even Rowan started to feel sorry
with the Spaniard especially since he wasn't just fishing for sympathy.
"Tragic? Well, maybe it is, but
on the other hand that's just the way I've deserved it. To love and to lose,
like the gypsy woman had lost her beloved granddaughter. Yet Aunchun died of age
and wasn't snatched from this life by force." Santiago paused, lost in
thoughts for a moment. He'd rather avoided talking about Aunchun since it still
hurts too much, even after all these years. Yet he had to go through that pain
again, speaking out her name aloud for the first time in many decades if he ever
wanted to tell the whole truth. She had been the turning point in his so far
miserable life; she turned his path from darkness to light, she encouraged him
to chose the harder way when it came down to magical studies and she also
encouraged him to face that curse, to search the gypsies which had invented it�
"So I returned to Granada, to the
place where all had started- the Sacromonte hill with its
cave dwellings. Of course the old woman herself was
long dead, burned at the stakes of the Inquisition, but some of her tribe were
still living there.
I told them my matter of concern and they politely heard me out. An old man
smiled at me. Se�or, ye know all ye need to know, he said with a
toothless grin, ye're a magician, si? Use yer own talents, don't bother us.
Our knowledge of magic had died with Akshaya, the indestructible.

Do
you mean only she could undo the
curse? I gasped,
feeling trapped in a dead end street once again. The old man giggled. The
answer is in yerself, Se�or.

I
wasn't wiser than before but he had given me a clue. I had to continue my
studies of magic to get more powerful as a magician because then I might be able
lift the curse on my own. Therefore I had to deal with the history and origin of
that gypsy tribe. Well, the Spanish word for gypsy, gitano, means 'Egyptian' so
I travelled to Egypt. There I've found out that they came from even farther away
and were actually of Hindu origin, from India."

"Ah,
that's why we've been to India that often." Rowan interrupted frowning.
"Now I understand yer fascination for old Sanskrit documents- ye were
looking for a way to get rid of that curse. Well, ye should've told me."

"I've made a lot of mistakes in my life and that surely
is one of them. But when should I have told you? Straight when we met for
the first time and you threatened to chop off my fingers and eat them? Would
you've felt better knowing that I'm a cursed man and a mighty magician?"

"She threatened to chop off yer fingers 'n eat 'em?"
Jack gasped surprised, hugging Rowan tightly. "Now that's what I call a
hellcat! I only kicked him on the shin."

Santiago rolled his eyes in pretended desperation.
Though he still had some problems to accept
that his dear girl had fallen in love with a scallywag like Jack Sparrow,
somewhere deep down in his heart he secretly had to admit that they were a
pretty couple- if you would ever call two typical pirates a pretty couple.
But, after all is said and done you always get what you deserve.

"So, what else did ye do with yer life before ye
decided to interfere in ours?" Rowan asked cheerfully snuggled in Jack's
arms. Then, suddenly, a thought popped up in her head and that was a rather
disturbing one; her eyes narrowed. "Hey, why did ye came to the West Indies
anyway when ye're supposed to be busy in India? And don't tell me ye've mistaken
it like Columbus."

She tried to free herself from Jack's embrace while he
tried to prevent her from whatever she was about to do. After all, Alf has just
said that he was a mighty magician. Now, that was fascinating, impressive
and scaring at the same time- not that Captain Jack Sparrow was easily scared,
but it was always better to be safe than sorry. "Hush luv, don't do
anything stupid, aye?"

Infuriated she elbowed his ribs before she stared at
Santiago, a bitter sound in her voice. "A child's blood shed shall only
be repaid by unconditional love for another- is it that? Bloody bastard, 'n
I've almost felt sorry for ye! Ye never gave a fuckin' damn 'bout me or Jack, 't
was never sympathy for any of us street urchins but mere egoism. Shame on ye! Ye
gathered orphans like us just because of yer curse, because ye need the love of a child to be redeemed."

"Dear, you got it all wrong. It was never my
intention to hurt your feelings." Santiago turned almost grey with shock
and he buried his face in his hands. Somehow she was right- he had started
his engagement with orphan kids just because of his curse, but soon he really
cared for these kids; they cheered up his gloomy soul as only Aunchun had done,
especially Rowan... and Jack. However, it was amazing how quick she'd figured
out that the key to the curse lay
in the words itself since it had taken him years to comprehend.

"But ye did!" She snapped. "Ye made me
believe that ye cared for me, instead ye only cared for yerself. Ha, but I won't
be the one who grants ye redemption!"

"Sht, calm down. Ye don't have to love him, savvy?
Actually the curse says by unconditional love for another child,
so if I got it right it's enough that he loves you. If he doesn't�" Jack
shrugged carelessly. "� well, his problem. But I guess we could all need
a drink now, aye?"

The Spaniard agreed to that and got on his feet a bit
too eagerly, apparently he was keen to leave the room for a while. Thoughts were
whirling through his head, thoroughly shaken up by telling the story of his life
for the first time, and he needed to sort them out before he could look Rowan in
the eyes again. But would it ever be the same? He doubted it. Ah, it would be so
easy if he could put all the blame on Jack, pretending that it was only
Sparrow's doing which influenced her- yet it wasn't that easy and it wasn't
Jack to blame just for once. No, it was all his own fault.

An uncomfortable silence followed Santiago's departure.
Elisabeth tried to start some small talk but failed because her husband
preferred to spoil it. While she wanted to hear more about island-romance, he
just stared wordlessly and rather unfriendly at
Jack until the pirate sighed.

"Look, whelp, Rowan was right- at least somehow. I
really didn't know yer father is still alive before she said so, which
means I didn't knew it when I met ye, savvy? And� um, when I saw him after the
mutiny I was not- well, let's say, I didn't have all me wits about me. I was a
bit indisposed then and tended to forget things�"

"I guess Jack wants to say that he was too pissed
to remember." Rowan interjected helpfully.

"Thanks luv, ye're too kind." Jack pulled a
face, theatrically rolling his eyes. "Don't listen to her, whelp, she's
exaggerating. Imagine it rather like�" Now his hands were in the air,
performing a weird and somehow hypnotising dance. "� like a door. Aye,
like a door that slammed shut 'n I've just misplaced the keys."

Rowan couldn't help but laugh about Jack's way of
saying sorry. However, Will wasn't that amused.

"A door. Slammed shut. Misplaced the keys. Damned,
we're talking about my father, Jack! There are so many things I wanna know about
him except that he was a good pirate- for instance, why did he never came to
warn me, to reassure himself that I'm alive and well after he had sent that
bloody medallion to me?"

Abruptly Rowan stopped laughing and got serious.
"Well, now I'm the one to blame. Because I was injured at that time our
voyage to England was delayed, and when we finally arrived there we had to find
out that yer mother had died. First, there was no trace of yer whereabouts so we
spent months searching the whole damned cold country for ye until we found yer
name on a passenger's list of a ship that had long ago left for the Caribbean
but never arrived there- ye know what
happened. Bill thought ye're dead. Then we went to Asia and he chose to chase
the dragon." "Dragon?" Will frowned. "You're not gonna tell
me that my father tried to hunt dragons, are you?"

Rowan and Jack exchanged glances before they burst out
into laughter, picturing Bill Turner on the hunt in their mind's eye. Will
didn't understand what was going on at all; he just thought that they were both
mad and that there's nothing worse than two mad pirates in love.

Everyone stiffened a bit when Santiago returned and the
laughter died. The Turners suddenly felt a bit ill-a-ease in his presence,
because it was one thing to fight against undead pirates and
another one to drink a glass of wine with a 246 years old cursed magician.
They didn't know which was weirder. Also, they would have liked to change the
subject to brighter sides of life but it only got more gloomy- and once again it
started with a book.

That book looked and even smelled really ancient,
moreover it had an almost dangerously mysterious aura. The Spaniard placed it on
the table and asked Rowan to have a look at it.

"Ah, Sanskrit?" She shrugged with feigned
disinterest. "Ye know I can't read it."

"The balance of the transcendental powers of the
universe is in total chaos, so please forget your animosity towards me for a
moment. This is a serious matter. I
need to know if that is the chalice you saw in Port Royal." He pointed at a
picture and though Rowan got only half of what he had said she throw a glance at
it- and froze. Then she nodded scarcely visible. The Spaniard beckoned the
others over to him. "Has anyone of you seen this before?"

"That's a golden wine-mug." Jack assumed,
nuzzling Rowan's hair. "I never cared much about wine before I met ye,
luv."

Santiago shot him a look that could kill and the pirate
decided it was wiser to step back a bit, letting go of her hair. "Sparrow,
keep your dirty fingers away from her and your dirty thoughts to yourself. I
would also appreciate it very much if you just stay silent unless you have
something significant to say. Got it?"

Oh no it starts again, Rowan thought and felt really pissed off. But before
she could say something offending, Will Turner surprised them all.

"Well, that looks somehow familiar to me�"
he mumbled, chewing at his lower lip in concentration. Then he turned around to
gaze at Jack. "Do you remember the day we left the Isla de Muerta?"

"Mate, how could I forget that? That was the day
the Redcoats almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow."

"You took some treasures along from that cave."

"Aye. I had a nice crown- I wonder if Norrington
wears it sometimes..."

"What?" Rowan yelled. Treasures. Isla de
Muerta. Norrington. Adding one and one, and the result was a perfect mess.

"I wonder if Norrington wears it sometimes. You
know, he seemed so keen to snatch the crown away from me as soon as we were
aboard the Dauntless ..."

"Sparrow! I don't blame you for being obsessed
with treasures, after all you're a pirate. But please, tell me what else you've
taken along from the Isla de Muerta. Did you take a golden wine-mug as
well?" Santiago seemed rather agitated; he grabbed Jack's shoulders and
gave him a good shaking. "Remember, lad. This really is of significant
importance."

It wasn't easy to remember something when you've just
been called lad, especially when you're an infamous pirate captain who
always liked to remind people of his title, and he attached significant
importance to be called Captain. Nevertheless he didn't dare to correct
Alf since Alf was a 246 year old magician.

It was Will who answered instead. "In fact there
was a vessel, name it wine-mug or chalice, and it was golden. I wondered why
Jack had chosen that of all things because it was rather plain, nothing
spectacular; there were more precious things in the caves of Isla de Muerta."

"Dunno either. I already carried as much as I
could but� well, somehow it begged me to be taken along and I just
couldn't reject. But actually I didn't even like it." Jack confessed, now
remembering clearly. He smirked because of the memory. "Yet the Commodore
did. He seemed quite fascinated 'bout that plain thing- ah, I always knew he has
a plain taste. Nothing against you dear Elisabeth� Alf, ye're okay?"

The
Spaniard had turned deadly pale again; he nodded and shook his head all at the
same time. "Aye. I mean no. I've already feared- expected- that the chalice
is from Isla de Muerta and yet I hoped that it wouldn't prove to be true."

"Don't talk in riddles, Santiago. What is that
chalice?" Rowan impatiently pressed for an answer. Since she had seen it
for the first time she wanted to know, needed to know.

"It's the Chalice of Doom."

All fell silent. These words had already been enough to
cause an eerie atmosphere and send shivers down the spine; everyone felt
intimidated- everyone but Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Ah, the Chalice of Doom, well well. What is it
good for?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"There's nothing good about it at all. That
chalice is an old and very evil vessel. A skilled black magician can use it to
enslave souls, and apparently he has already done so with Commodore Norrington.
But the chalice can hold much more than one soul, in fact it can hold many
thousands, doomed to be sacrificed to an evil Goddess, the personification of
utter darkness, and destruction.
Nevertheless, you need a statue of that Goddess to sacrifice these captured souls to her and set her free,
free to terrorize the world with a cacophony of calamity, deceit, decay, disease,
death and perversion."

No. Please no. Not her again! Rowan gasped for breath. The blood rushed to her head,
throbbed heavily in her temples like a drum and all other sounds faded to
oblivion. She felt numb, like she had been wrapped in layers of cotton wool.
From a very far distance she heard someone asking the name of that goddess- it
could have been Jack's voice- but she already knew the answer long before
Santiago spoke it out aloud.

"Nirrti."

Nirrti. Nirrti. Nirrti, it
echoed in her head.
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The Chalice of Doom