Over the Edge and Over Again: Chapter 1
Over the Edge
“Barbossa, ahead!”
“Aye, we're good and lost now.”
The self proclaimed captain responded to Mr Turner with a jovial expression on his face. The rest of the crew's minds were nary the wiser to what lay ahead, but Barbossa knew what to expect. Mostly. The trip had been arduous, not to mention bloody cold. But if all was to go according to plan, he knew what had to be done.
“Lost? "
Ah, there it is, he thought. The fear of mortality. Miss Swann's features were more confused than afraid, but a reaction he expected nonetheless. Her composure during the voyage had impressed him to say the least, but she was still a child compared to him when it came to the sea. He shot a look back at her, madness almost evident in his eyes.
“For certain you have to be lost to find a place as can't be found. Elseways, everyone would know where it was.”
Mr Gibbs promptly looked overboard on the port side, the change in motions the ship catching his attention, not to mentions Barbossa's questionable dictations. It was about to get interesting.
“We're gaining speed.”
There it was again. Barbossa admitted to himself that he wasn't completely aware of the events to unfold, but he had the capacity to enjoy it more than the rest of the crew.
“Aye.”
The rest of the crew began to eye each other in worry. Will even more so, deeply concerned with the glint in Barbossa's eyes. Realising he was ill concerned with no one but himself, Will commanded to the others.
“To stations!”
No one hesitated to agree with him. Everyone's worry for their supposed Captain's sanity put to the back of their minds. More than half the men were not going to die for a man they barely knew. He was the supplier of payment, and the supplier of directions; nothing more. Those more familiar with the Barbossa's actions still followed the order, loyalty ever present, but not taking front runner over their own lives.
“All hands to stations!” The order wasn't needed, with every man and woman doing their part to keep steady. There were captains for a reason, however. Commands needed to be given and crews organised, despite Barbossa's apparent lack of will to do so. As such, Will took it upon himself to take charge. “Rudder full. Hard aport! Gather way.”
In the hectic mass of pirates upon the Hai Peng's deck, Barbossa finally started to take command. Albeit, not in a way anyone wanted him to.
“Nay! Belay that!” his voice spat as he ordered the crew, many of whom looked on in confusion. “Let her run straight and true!”
Sauntering toward the front of the ship, the rest of the crew followed suit. But those already there could not believe their eyes. The world just...stopped. A cascade of water over flowed from what was apparently the edge of the world, the darkness of the sky continuing on behind it. Nothing but a vast empty space. A void. No stars, no clouds, no horizons. Nothing lay beyond the waterfall at worlds end. And the Sai Peng was heading for it.
Will was the first to approach Barbossa with the fate he had given them, his voice dark and his eyes burning. “You've doomed us all," he stated.
“Don't be so unkind,” he said, a hint of faux hurt in his voice, “Ye may not survive to pass this way again, and these be the last friendly words you'll hear.”
Will had had enough listening to him. Taking charge, he continued to bellow orders to the crew, none of which spoke against him. Many of them wouldn't have, even if they had the chance.
“Tie her off. Hard aport.”
The pirate's knew when to listen to those above them, but did so in vain: the current was far too strong for the ship to pull out off.
Barbossa just stood there, an aura of confidence and enjoyment radiating from him. The rest of the hands on the deck scampering left and right around him like insects, futilely attempting to throw the ship off course.
The drastic aport turn seemed to help their cause, but all it did was change the direction the ship was facing, the current seemingly not bothered by the crew’s attempts at saving their hides. The ship continued to drift along with the waters falling from the worlds end.
“Hold on!” Will yelled, grasping onto the ropes hanging from above his head.
But Barbossa thought it was brilliant. They were all fighting for their lives when faced with something new, while he could enjoy it for what it was. An adventure. Beyond the falls was a world many sailors saw, a world many men and women were destined to travel to, but a world few ever came back from.
But he would. Sure, he'd have to bring back Jack, he thought, but there was nary a thing that didn't hold consequence of some sort. Being a pirate had taught him at least that much.
“Strike yer colours, you bloomin' cockroaches.”
His words ended in hearty laughter, but it didn't matter. The rest of the crew had little reason to listen to him. They were falling into the dark, endless abyss of the damned, which many deemed a more frightening and terrifying prospect than their captain. The water seemed to fall forever, never stopping. Just...darkness. Perpetual Darkness.
– – – –
The sudden burst of water would have been enough to wake many of the crew. The sudden appearance of the sea below them, compared nothingness at least, was a pretty drastic change. Despite the water being present, it was very shallow. How Will had been unhurt from the fall, let alone one into shallow waters, was beyond him.
But understanding he could, in fact, simply stand up, he did so and took in the surroundings. Many of the others were doing the same; Ragetti seemed to be paddling for dear life, much to Will and the others amusement.
There was land, and not far away either. Close in fact. And standing in the shallow waters was doing nothing for them, but it was common sense to head for land, and most men were following that logic. Many of the Chinese men were already wading through the low tide too, and Will thought it idealistic to follow suit.
The sand was white and clean, no dirtied rocks or sparse pieces of seaweed anywhere to be seen. The same could not be said for their ship. Or what Will assumed was there ship. Wooden frames and timber littered the beach nearest the water, but not nearly enough to constitute the whole of the vessel.
Finally reaching dry land, he looked around at the men, and two women, around him. He hadn't bothered to memorise many of the Chinese, but from what he could tell the rest of the crew were present and accounted for.
Pintel proceeded to ruin that for him.
“Where's Barbossa?”
- - - -
Barbossa continued to fall through the darkness. The ship was gone. Not that he had made much effort to hold on. His knowledge of the worlds end was limited, but Tia Dalma had assured him all ended up in the locker one way or another, so his worry was cast aside for now. He had grabbed his hat though. He liked to look good when he was mocking Jack. The nothingness was fading though. He didn't know how, or why, but he could quickly feel it becoming...something.
“Birds?” he asked himself, opening his eyes.
The sounds of chirping echoed around him. There was no reason anything living should be in the locker, let alone birds. There'd be no point. Jones wouldn't collect the souls of mere animals. They were not worthy of his time.
But as clouds approached, and the darkness faded around them into a painted mixture of grey and white, they were there. Birds. He could hear them. There may have been no more than a few, but he could hear them.
But they were not his immediate concern. The clouds meant there was a sky, and a sky meant he was somewhere, which also meant that somewhere was very, very high.
He could feel the air hit him as he fell, and holding onto his hat for dear life, Barbossa took in the whiteness around him. The clouds were clearing, through which he could see a bright blue sky on all sides. And out of the unnaturally thick clouds, he could see the world below, coming ever closer. Too close.
“Damn it!” he continued to yell at the top of his voice, as if it would somehow help the situation.
Not that it would. He was closing in on a small forest and despite the buildings he saw from the sky, there was no one nearby. Bracing for something that could out right kill him seemed pointless, but with nothing better to do, he braced for impact against the thick trees.
Upon making contact, he quickly realised one thing. It bloody hurt. The small branches came fast and quick, whipping his face and hands. Thick grunts and pained sounds came from his mouth has he made his way through the foliage towards the ground below.
But though the forest appeared rich and dense, the trees were not as tall as he had thought, and the branches not as thick. He soon hit the bottom by way of a large bush than continues to soften his fall. Despite his wavered strength and weakened resolve, he slowly and drunkenly made his way out of the bush, standing tall when he was finally free of the green shrubbery.
Placing his hands over his face and different part of his body in quick succession, and giving his visible skin a once over, he deemed himself acceptable, or at least to the point where nothing wrong with him needed treatment. His hat was in good condition too, as were his sword and pistol. His hands were covered in scratches, and he had a small gash on his forehead. Though he gave a confident smile, knowing what he'd just survived, and laughed, as if to mock the universe itself for trying to down him.
“Nothin' worth cryin' about.”
He then cast his eyes skyward, trying to see where he'd fell from. He could see beyond the trees through a small open canopy, and he could also clearly see the clouds which he had original fell through.
“What the...?” he said, staring absent-mindedly at the space above him.
The clouds were barely above the trees! He wasn't even that high to begin with?! The clouds weren't exactly interweaving with the trees, but he could at least tell they weren't that high in the sky. With his previous dive with death now seeming less impressive, he let out an exasperated groan and glanced around for anything to tell him where he was.
It was definitely a forest; of that much he was sure. Dense and thick, just as he'd expected. Green burst from every corner and, he was sure, every shade of every colour was represented by a plethora of different flowers. Leaves of differing sizes and shades clung to the sides of every tree.
However, it was far from a paradise. Light had very little presence, spare for the canopy above. And creatures could be heard growling and screeching from beyond the foliage. The sounds came from every way he could hear, with no way of telling how far away, or even what they were. And the air was musty, and the forest had nothing to be seen in any direction, with flora being the only thing viable as everything blended together in mix of greens and browns...
“This can't be a good thing.”
Barbossa rubbed his forehead in frustration, wincing at the gash he forgot he had. He was lost. Tired, frustrated and lost.
Suddenly realising that he was, in fact, alone as well as lost, he passively wondered what could have befallen the rest of the crew. They were nowhere to be seen from the sky, let alone the ground. Perhaps they all perished in the abyss?
“No. This isn't the Locker.”
Of course, he was sure of it. This wasn't Jones' Locker. It was a forest. A living forest. Nothing like what he expected, or what Calypso had described to him, for that matter. Davy Jones' Locker was a damned place. Dead and dusty to all but those who were trapped there. Meaning he was the only one who didn't make it there properly.
“Great. Havin' successfully gotten lost, I've also givin' Jack free reign of the bloody ship when they find 'im!”
This was not looking good. Not for his well being, nor for his pride.
“At least he's out of me way.”
As much as he needed to save the man, he loathed him all the same. Not to mention Jack had killed him once before. The absence of another Jack disheartened him, but seeing as the little monkey had survived without him before, he was none too worried for it.
Rustling from the bushes behind him brought him back to his senses. Something was near. And from the sound it was making, it was big. Quickly spinning on the spot, he drew his sword to face the...creature...
“By God...”
There was what appeared to a large lion with wings facing him. It had deep orange fur and an even darker scarlet mane. The wings protruding from its back seemed bat like in their appearance, folded away at its side as it stood half emerged from the greenery. The fangs jutting out of its mouth were large and sharp, and as it growled at the pirate captain, even more could be seen from within its maw. The beast's tail was also a sight to behold: long and poised, with a large black spike at the end.
The forest was dark as well as dense, and with no way of know which way to go, at the risk of finding another beast to face alongside this one, Barbossa chose to do the one thing he was best at.
“Has not been me day today. And now. I'm 'fraid 'tis not yours either.”
Blade drawn, he lunged for the beast and thrust his sword forwards, slicing to the right of his side. Despite the wings and the apparently strong legs, it was slow in the closed space of the trees, and suffered with a large, deep wound to the knee.
It let out a huge roar, doubling back in pain. Barbossa looked on and felt pride in injuring a dangerous beast he had only discovered less than a minute before. But he did not let his guard down; he knew it would not give in so easily. The beast then charged forward in spite of its injury and attempted to lunge at the captain.
However, having a smaller body in the space he was in gave Barbossa the advantage, and he stood his ground until the creature came close, only to dive between some trees and stab at it as it charged past, shaking and struggling to run at all.
The beast once again howled out in pain, but did not stop to suffer. It charged at Barbossa and rammed its paws between the trees, prying them part. Barbossa looked up in shock, having witnessed the creature practically rip two trees from their roots, and he gave out a nervous laugh as the beast eyed him, anger and irritation evident in its face; two things Barbossa knew to run from when faced with a wild animal. And with said animal still needing to get its large body through the enlarged gap in the trees, he seized the chance while he could.
Knowing the beast was injured, he ran as fast as his old legs could take him, taking advantage of it while he still had a chance. Running through the over growth was easy given his sword: it made little work of the foliage that got in his way. And given his small size, compared to the monster at least, it would still have to claw its way through what was left.
But it appeared to be futile. The pirate could hear trees falling in the distance, crashing to the ground. The beast wasn't as weak as he'd thought. Having tired of running, he realised he would have to face the creature eventually. He launched himself to the side for cover, and then waited for it to pass him, or at least come towards him for a clear strike.
Barbossa waited with confidence for the wild monster to approach, before realising there were no sounds coming from the direction he had travelled. How had he been so stupid!
“The beast can fly,” he lamented, stepping back as he looked up towards the sky.
The trees hadn't been destroyed to chase him; it'd made space to get airborne! Its leg was injured, of course of wouldn't bloody run after him!
The rustling then resurfaced from above, and from the top of a tree, he saw the beast crawl its way on to a branch, eyeing Barbossa the whole time. Priming its wings to propel itself forward, it readied to lung at the pirate. Ready for the final kill.
But it couldn't. It didn't have the chance. Barbossa held his pistol forward, and with a smirk painted on his face, pulled the trigger. The creature fell unceremoniously from the tree on to the ground, landing on its side. It growled at the captain, and winced in pain as it tried to move.
Barbossa stood above it, high and mighty. He had bested a magical monster. A new beast never before witnessed by any man, or so he assumed. The beast, despite its ultimate fate having already been decided, tried in vain to swipe at the pirate.
He merely smiled and thrust his sword deep in its chest. The beast, having finally succumbed to him, lifelessly slumped on to the floor.
Barbossa laughed. Deep and raspy, holding his sword above the newly slain creature at his feet.
“Down with ye, ye winged beastie,” he spat, laughing at the forest around him, “If ye hadn’t tried again, I may have killed ye honourably.”
Then there were sounds from his left. The sounds of animals and the rustling of leaves. Judging by the sounds made, they were smaller creatures. He admitted he enjoyed the thrill of killing an enemy or a beast should it gain him, but killing creatures or civilians for fun was not among his personal code. Not anymore.
He was a pirate, true, but not a monster. If there was no gain to be had, and no threat posed, they could keep to their ways. Still, this was a new world, and with it came new dangers. This...thing clearly showed that.
Cautiously and quietly moving towards the sound, Barbossa drew his sword. Scaring the creature would not only let him see it, but also let it escape should it pose no threat. If it was a threat, however, it would work in his favour; scaring it away or allowing him the first strike. Sword in hand and brimming with confidence, he cast aside the leaves and pointed his sword forward, getting the jump at whatever lay on the other side.
“C'mon then, beasties! Be there more of ye wantin'-”
What greeted him was not a monster, but three small...horses? The sight alone was enough to surprise him, but they were...unnatural to say the least; one was a unicorn while another appeared to sport wings. The manes and coats were also of unnatural nature; orange, purple and yellow among the other colours present. They were cowering under his shadow, almost crying as he stood above them, bloody sword in hand.
“D-don't...h-h-hurt us....p-please,” the white unicorn whimpered, barely able to breath as it did.
Barbossa's eyes went wide. They were talking. The horses were talking. That was...new. And they were crying.
His mind was processing this new information at a rather slow rate, hundreds of questions forming in his head. Were they meant to talk? Could horses really cry? Were they dangerous? Could everything here have wings? And were they usually orange?
Were they...children?
The pirate didn't know what was going on, or what they rightly were, but they were apparently...children? He had next to no experience with the things, but he had to do something...didn't he? Where were the women when he actually wanted them?
He put away his sword and reached out for the white one, making sure to lighten his features while he did. And he forced a smile. Children liked smiling, surely. Deciding that would be the best course of action, he attempted the biggest smile he could muster, and tried talking to them, should his new found aura of kindness and merciful nature fail him.
“It be fine, little...thing. Ye just stop y-”
He was cut off by the orange one pushing the unicorn away and attempting to buck him in the arm. The little horse managed to land her attack, but only to some degree of success; the hit didn't hurt, instead, the winged creature succeeded in merely shoving his hand out of the way.
“G-et away from h-her!”
With tears still streaming from their eyes, the three horses turned around and ran for the overgrowth, shouting and squealing at each other.
“Run away! Just...just keep running...away!” one of them yelled, out of breath and panting for air.
Barbossa just stood there, unsure of what to make of what had just transpired. But despite these thoughts plaguing him, as well as the questions the horses posed, he realised he now had an opportunity to get out of the forest relatively unharmed.
If these things were indeed...children, children who could talk, they had to live somewhere. He couldn't imagine them living in a place with flying lions roaming among the trees. Assuming they knew where they were heading, of course.
He let out a tired sigh. Today was not going as he had assumed it would, but he had to make do with what fate handed him. He had wanted an adventure in another world. He had wanted to go where few men ventured and even fewer returned. And he had it.
“Best careful what ye wish for,” he said sighing, following the path the small horses had taken, and pushing the leaves and flowers out of his way.
“Lest ye end up regrettin' it.”