//------------------------------// // Tia Dalma // Story: Over the Edge and Over Again // by Perpetual Motion //------------------------------// Over the Edge and Over Again: Chapter 23 Tia Dalma Sand. There was sand, pure and untarnished. Guarded by an endless blue horizon that stretched out to every conceivable corner of reality. To all intents and purposes, an inescapable prison free from walls and blockade. For without walls, how can one truly escape? Salt should rightly have been thick in the air, smothering his senses and tainting the surroundings so that nothing escaped its wrath. But there was no salt. There was no mortal breeze from out beyond the horizon to play against his skin, yet the water eased in and out of flow. The world was completely still, practically a painting given perfect depth, yet it also lived with an eerily approximation of the real world. Like an expert thespian. It was a real place… but also not. Even if Discord hadn’t wrought this horrid curse back upon him, Barbossa doubted he the world would have felt any different against is skin. Speaking of the world, Barbossa pondered the surf as it wet the dry sands before retreating back into a vast, limitless collection of water. Waves pushed at the shore, despite none being visible at the farthest point he could see and a lack of wind to push it. The horizon was steady. Not quite the sea he was used to. Not quite a sea at all, in fact. But a soothing sight nonetheless. Closing his eyes, Barbossa took in a long, deep breath. He savoured the air as it entered his lungs and held it there. Air, despite the empty wind. Tasteless. Another anomaly. He wasn't in Equestria anymore. Of that much, he was completely certain. Even without his prior knowledge, there would be no mistaking it. This place even looked different, felt different. Sights were calmer, less taxing on his eyes. After a week of the pony world, he had almost forgotten that which he knew was not so blindingly bright and colourful. “Thank God,” he sighed. Thank God! Thank him and every other blasted deity that poked and prodded at the mortal world. He’d swear to the lot of them right then and there, if he could. He would say many a blasted thing to their miserable faces. Still… Thank the lot of them. Barbossa let his long breath go and his mind reeled back into the moment. Barely a dozen seconds or so had passed by, but that was more than he should have allowed himself. There were more important tasks at hand. He straitened his shoulders, allowing his trusted pet to accommodate himself. Jack the monkey seemed to neither care about nor mind their current predicament. The lack of anything natural did not concern him. So long as the furry menace had a place to sit. "Right. You two,” Barbossa finally ordered. “Tia Dalma. Take us to her.” Pintel and Ragetti did as they were told. With the little time they had to spare and the urge of Barbossa at their backs, they were smart to do so. If they had even half as much sense as their captain, they would want the entire ordeal sorted away as quickly as possible and to leave the pony lands as far behind them as they possibly could. Maybe they could all remember it as nothing more than a brief fever dream. A drunken memory within a grander tale. With Pinkie Pie hopping merrily along mere steps behind them, the hope was a far-fetched one. Hopeful, but unlikely. “This place looks weird,” she casually said, as one might have noted an ugly dress. “What’s wrong with the sky?” It was a barely-blue, more of a grey. Wisps of equally grey cloud held their place, not moving for as long as Barbossa concentrated them. Then again, he was currently walking. It did not seem worth thinking about. “There’s a surf, but no wind,” he answered. His boots fell heavy into the sand as the footing beneath took a steep incline. A dune lay before him. It was not insurmountable, at any rate. “Clouds, but barely a sky. Water and nary a sea. Only the dead dwell here, Pinkie Pie.” “So… this really is an afterlife? A real one?” “That’s my hope. Elseways, we’ve taken a very wrong turn somewhere along the way.” “You were tied up in Twilight’s library. That’s a pretty big detour from the land of the dead.” Ponyville was indeed a very wrong turn. On several levels. At this stage, Barbossa didn’t wish to suppose how else this journey for Jack could go wrong. Maybe Pinkie would be joining him forever, stranded on this side of the portal and unable to return to her home. Or perhaps the King of England and Princess Celestia might abscond, ruling over the world with hugs and kisses. The English flag would be rewritten pink with wee hearts. It made more sense than half the rubbish he had been forced into. ☠ Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick. Tock. There were no clocks within his reach, pocket or otherwise, yet William Turner felt the weight of each second that passed all the same. To pass the time, he anxiously flexed the already tight skin of his knuckles, watching the flesh grow taught and thin, right until he could see the white of his bones beneath. Then he let all the pressure go and began it all over again. It had begun as a relief, of sorts: a way to vent the uneasy pressure inside his chest. A few hours at most they had spent inside the Locker, certainly. But it was never meant to be a place where you relaxed. It was not a place where you were meant to be. To be in this place meant you no longer were. It was reserved solely for those in need of punishment, a dreary Hell for those who displeased Davy Jones. But, eventually, Will had made some sort of sick little game of it. How tight could he make his knuckles go before… well, he wasn’t quite sure what would happen afterwards. He hadn’t really thought the rules of the game through that well, or how he would actually enforce them. At most, he was pretending that he could turn his skin invisible. He wished there was something more he could say for his actions. There was not. Will Turner was sat in Davy Jones’ Locker, amongst the least active crew he had ever been a part of, pretending he could turn his skin invisible. … He swiftly realised that those were the ramblings of a mad man and he wondered if the Locker was truly as eerily calm as it first appeared. Were the others thinking these thoughts? Was he going mad? He didn't know one could go mad in only a few hours. Perhaps in this place, time did not matter. Unsure of what to really feel through his boredom, Will raised his head to look down the remainder of the ghostly coastline. While the dry air seemed all calm at first, it was not long before he noticed activity in the distance. A dune was shifting its sand. And from the top appeared Pintel and Ragetti. They scurried up and over like hot-footed rats as Barbossa hauled himself up behind them. …Barbossa? Barbossa... “Barbossa!” Will was yelling before he realised he actually had something worth yelling about. “It’s Barbossa!” He got to his feet and pointed directly to his prize. The old captain walked with a distinct purpose, monkey on shoulder and each step firm on the sand as his stride continued. Very much unlike the other two, the bumbling beggars they were. To Will’s surprise, these three missing men were not the most immediate figure that his eyes focused on. After they rose from beyond the dune, something else followed on behind. It was a horse. A small, pink horse. With frizzy hair. And… giant eyes. Bobbing up just behind the captain, it held itself upright for mere seconds before it then slid the rest of the way down the dune, tumbling into the sand and laughing all the while. … Did the others see the horse? They could surely see the pink horse. A weary glance to the men and women around him seemed to suggest as much, as ill prepared for any arrival as all seemed. Or maybe Barbossa simply was that much of a surprise? He hoped to God they saw the horse. “Do you see the horse?” Will eventually asked. Mumbled affirmatives and, as Will recognised, several variations on the Chinese word for ‘yes’ suggested that Will was not quite insane. Not yet. A whispered, “她太可愛了...” from a solitary pirate was entirely lost on Will. “Good. That’s good,” he agreed. With himself. With whatever the Chinese man had said. With whatever mattered at all. The sheer fact that he wasn't mad was also a cause for concern, mind you, but they were beyond that dubious point of no return. It wouldn’t do to dwell. It wasn’t long before Will found his restless feet running towards Barbossa. And his new horse. Now, this man had tried to kill him in the past. Will had also tried to kill him, once or twice. He had even succeeded, in a roundabout way. There was something to be said for a man that went missing on a voyage to Davy Jones’ Locker, however. Something… almost commendable, if you should manage to find your way back. A camaraderie that couldn’t be ignored, as silly as it might sound to an outsider. The action was rendered all the more ridiculous when the good captain promptly ignored Will and made his merry way through the crowd and out towards Tia Dalma instead. Pintel and Ragetti followed on behind. All three of them were utterly unperturbed by the little pink horse. ☠ Dirty hands from within the crowd reached down for their pistols. Some for their swords. A scant few to check for a heat at their heads. Barbossa’s voice fired off first, regardless. “Shoot the pink pony and I'll gut yer brain out through yer nostrils.” He took pause. “With a fork.” All but one pirate put their hands down. Unsurprisingly, it was one of the Chinese pirates. To his credit, he looked to be the sort of man that would aim his pistol at a beached jellyfish if he felt so inclined that it still had the possibility of stinging him. Barbossa simply pulled out his own gun and shot once in the man’s direction. A distinct plume of sand exploded directly to his right. “Let me rephrase;” he began. His vice growing deeper, more concerned with the inaction. “Shoot Pinkie Pie and our agreement will be void. And I don't mean I'll be droppin’ yer favour: I mean we’ll all be damned here for all eternity whether I shoot a new orifice through your skull or not!” The man gave pause, but his countrymen were quick to pull his pistol away and slap the back of his head. It was clear to be seen that not all the Chinese pirates were idiots. Most of the idiots had died several weeks ago. “That was a little mean,” Pinkie voiced. “My world, Pinkie. My rules.” “But… I mean, technically, this isn’t your world-” Barbossa threw Pinkie a sharp look, the sort of look that implied something “a little mean’ would occur if she didn’t let him do his duty. Just to make sure that she got the message, he hissed “Now is not the time, Pinkie Pie.” Pinkie sucked her lips into her mouth before loudly popping them, avoiding all the eye-contact she could. “Right. Business.” His focus returning, Barbossa instead turned to his goal. “Tia Dalma!” he called, flowing into an elegant bow. Jack scrambled from his perch and slinked away into the sand, his attention caught by crabs that were not crabs. “Your presence warms the cobbles of me blackened heart. But I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for pleasantries today.” If she was surprised by his reappearance, his manner or his words then she gave no clear indication. She looked at him with a neutral expression, displaying neither a sadness or a joy to see him. “A pleasant surprise to see you, too. Tell me,” she added, her accent as thick as ever. Of course, it wouldn’t have changed; he’d barely been gone a few hours from her perspective. If that. “Did you enjoy your journey, Barbossa?” Barbossa felt his jaw clench, despite himself. Her tone was level, yet there was something in there that unsettled his nerves. Perhaps it was her slight smile or the knowing in her voice that maybe, just maybe, she had planned his whole ordeal from the start. She would not be smiling at the situation for long, if that was the case. He rose to his full height and almost went to reset his hat, driven by impulse and times gone by. But he still had no hat. Sadly. “Am I te take that ye know somethin’ about my little journey that I do not?” “Fate has its hand in many matters, not all of which can be seen at any one time.” A smile, a crawled onto her lips. “But… I do admit I had my suspicions on the whereabouts of you, our good captain.” “And before we went over the edge of the world?” Barbossa asked, an edge to his own tone. Tia Dalma smiled once more, irking that heat that was already gathering in the back of his head. Something else occurred before his anger could take hold. Something pink. “You’re a girl!” Pinkie was right up to Tia Dalma, one hood already forced into her hand. There was shaking and smiling and a long ramble of words that, Barbossa only assumed, could be pleasantries spoken at such a pace that only Pinkie could ever hope to achieve it. “-and you’re so tall and pretty and brown! Hector said humans didn’t come in different colours. That sounded so boring and, as he will surely tell you, I do not do boring. No honey, I do not! It would be such a shame if you only came in one colour and not other colours like blue and purple and yellow and orange and white and all the other colours that my best friends are.” Her mind seemed to reel back to the current, important objective. “You’re, uh, the Tea… Dalai Llama, right? Hector told us we were-” Pinkie’s eyes just so happened to fall on another woman. All intended speech ground to halt and her jaw about disjointed in smile. There was a squee and running and another round of hugs. “You’re a girl too!” With Pinkie Pie distracted with, of all things, Elizabeth Swann, Barbossa chose his moment. He doubted he would get much chance to talk if Pinkie so much as turned around in his direction. “That’s Pinkie Pie,” he explained. Pinkie required explanation. “She’s a magic talkin’ horse. She likes parties.” There was a stunned silence in the moments after. Barbossa was pleased for the result, more so than he would have been if the Chinese had caused a fuss or an idiot had fired openly. If England could eat horse and China could eats dogs, he didn’t hold much light to Pinkie’s chances. Then again, she looked a little too… sickly for his taste. He reminded her of thick icing and bloated cake. “And she has defeated Gods on the odd occasion. Or so I’m told. She hails from a magical land. A lot of miraculous things are goin’ in the pony lands. Rivers made from rainbows and magical tattoos that appear when you sing,” he looked to Tia Dalma. His face fell. “Where I’ve been stranded for the last week.” His face fell further. “That’s seems a long time,” she quickly teased. Her spreading smile from before returning in full force. “You haven’t been gone all that long.” He was going to kill her. “Time is different there; moves faster.” Somehow. Speaking of time, they were very much wasting it. Barbossa cast a brief glance over everyone present, eyeing each man (and the few women) for their potential uses. Many weren’t worth the energy it took to shift his neck, mind, but he had little to work with as it was. Not to mention his other goals. Revenge or not, he wanted a clean sweep once he was finished. No more issues, no more ‘detours’. Which, of course, was all well and likely if his plan continued ahead as it did. If all went as planned… “Me and Lizzie are friends now.” Pinkie was back, it seemed. A brief glance towards Elizabeth implied that the poor woman had no idea what was going on. Her eyes followed Pinkie like one would follow a flying pig. Which was absolutely perfect. Now he’d be the sane one. That said, he snapped his fingers towards Pinkie and pointed to the ground next to his feet. She promptly jumped over and sat down. “Time fer games is over, Pinkie.” She giggled in response. “You sound like Twilight.” Amazing. Of all the things that were wrong with him… But it was well beyond time to move on. His point had been proven; he was sane. “And to prove that I’m not mad, I brought a horse back with me! Look at her, all pink and...” Was there much else to say about her that he hadn’t already? Pink. Parties. Cake? “But I’m afraid I have rather more pressing matters to talk of.” “Aye,” Pintel agreed. “There’s a hell of a lot of stuff going on back there. There’s an army of barbossas. Copied men by the hundreds.” Ragetti was in there just as quick. “And cows floating in the sky!” “Flying pirate ships!” “Unicorns!” “A snake-goat-lizard god! What clicks his fingers and summons gold from the sky! Almost every single person within earshot eased necks, ever so slightly, to stare back the way Barbossa had come from. Tia Dalma was the only one not so inclined. She instead kneeled forward, looking into Pinkie’s eyes. She weaved a hand through Pinkie’s mane, easing her thumb behind the mare’s ears and whispering in the way that Tia Dalma did. Spare for the feel and sight, Pinkie Pie might as well have been a little stone crab for all the difference with which the witch treated them both. Not that Pinkie seemed to care. The miraculous invention of hands scratching at her ear was seemingly enough to placate her excitement. Barbossa cleared his throat. “I’m rather afraid something dear was stolen durin’ me brief imprisonment. A false eye, as it happens.” Tia Dalma was very suddenly inclined, glaring into him. Her hand came quickly away from Pinkie, clenching and writhing as if burned. Much like in days gone by, during the long voyage through the ice and cold, Barbossa saw something horrible and broken inside the woman’s eyes. Something broiling and visceral and hot like Hell’s fire. It was in these moments that he remembered, truly remembered, that she was no mere witch with simple spells and tricks. She was God. Vengeful and trapped. “Explain yourself.” Barbossa was quick to find his wit, as far down his trousers as Tia Dalma had just sent it. “A God, of sorts. The very same that that Pintel spoke of; a beastly and twisted mess by the name of Discord. Head of a goat and body of a snake.” “Arm of a lion,” Pintel interjected. “Lizard leg. “Bat wings.” As irritating as they could be, they offered good commentary. Barbossa motioned in their direction. “All true. Every word of-” A beastly slap to the face was all he got for his trouble. It stung more than it rightly should have. Still, Barbossa kept his balance. Barely. Resisting the urge to swing back, for the trouble it was likely to get him in, he held his ground and got back to his full height. He ran his fingers across his cheek once more before deciding that, no, it wasn’t going to help ease the sting. “I’ll choose te ignore that.” “You have doomed me. And the rest!” “It’s entirely out of me hands! Why else would I come here with the intention of going back?” “Your claims might hold some truth, if you were not known for your drive.” She was not a stupid God. “Be that as it may, we have no time to stand about here dawdling and sharing pleasantries. Time moves faster in the pony world, meaning the longer we stand here, the less chance we have of ever seeing your precious artefact ever again.” “And you want help?” she asked. “From your friends?” Friends. She did not need to use that word. Yet, she did. His suspicions only grew. “We are in dire need of some magic. The likes of which only you can provide. I have a band of merry mares on the other side of the portal, ready and waiting te bring Discord down. If only you could provide the final push.” Whether his words had any real effect, Barbossa could not tell in that moment. Tia Dalma continued to stare, unwavering in her vile hatred. Her eyes went from Barbossa, to Pintel to Ragetti. He could see her thinking, going over each detail he had given freely. Of course, it was the details not given that would be coursing through her mind. Whether she believed him or not, she would need to assist him. Having her trust would leave him with a higher chance of staying alive, however. “My friends are in a lot of trouble,” Pinkie blurted out. This garnered Tia Dalma’s full attention. “Discord is breaking everything and we need a lot of help.” Pinkie’s eyes grew wide and wet. “Please? A lot of ponies are going to get hurt if we don’t do something.” “D’aaaw,” came from somewhere within the crowd of pirates. It was followed swiftly by whacks and swearing as the others told him to be quiet. Even one of the Chinese pirates hissed a quick, “吁!" Still, Tia Dalma did not speak. In the quiet, instead, came young William. He moved very much around Pinkie, yet forced his way into the conversation all the same. “Are you telling me that we ventured through the coldest waters on the Earth, sailed past the end of all ends and fell off the edge and plummeted down to Davy Jones’ Locker only for you to lose something in yet another impossible realm that you said we specifically could not afford to lose?” Pintel and Ragetti nodded casually, both muttering, “That’s about it, yeah.” “And then he set free Discord, because we totally dealt with him a few months ago, except it won’t have been a few months ago for you, more like a few days ago but yeah, Hector accidentally set Discord free and he’s a super bad guy that can turn the universe into jelly, create life from the jelly and make it attack you before he clicks his fingers and starts everything from scratch but makes sure you’re alive to see it all happen again.” “I know I said it before,” Pintel piped up again, “But I’d really like te mention again that there’s an army made out of Barbossa laying siege to an entire city of all th’ pretty little horses.” “It’s quite terrifying, in all honesty,” Ragetti finished. “You’re all mad,” Will decided. “I get that a lot,” Pinkie replied. “But my doctor says I’m safe for society.” Taking in a new deep breath, one that was considerably less calm than the last, Barbossa snapped his fingers frantically in the air. Attention was hooked and faces with varying degrees of displeasure were sent his way. “Time. Time! We don’t have time for this!” God only knew how much time they had wasted already. Something occurred to Barbossa. “Pinkie, how long have we been here? Te the second.” “Six minutes and fourteen seconds,” she replied, casually, without missing so much as a beat. “Fifteen.” She tilted her head to one side. “Sixteen.” Then the other. “Seventeen.” Well. How about that? Insane or not, that was a very useful skill. Barbossa found himself genuinely impressed. But that was by the by. He turned was again to face Tia Dalma. “Regardless of the situation, the piece of eight is gone. An entire world is in danger of being destroyed and there is a monster I want castrated as the cause of both. The only solution I see left is to seal him away the same way you were, all those years ago. To strip him if his godlike powers and leave him empty…” “I can’t do that by meself,” he hollowly finished. “We need magic. We need powerful magic and I’m afraid you are the only option open. You know full well I wouldn’t risk askin’ otherwise.” That was very much true. Given that he only breathed thanks to the magic locked under Tia Dalma’s skin, there was nothing that he did not owe the woman. For all he thought himself to be a pirate, it was nought compared to the power that Tia Dalma had over him. If she so wished, he would crumble to dust at her command. The click of her fingers. Dust. Dead. Yet, she looked over him. Or rather, she looked through him. Towards something that only she could see. Whether it was the glint in his eye or the deepest secrets of his mind he was none the wiser. But he stood there and waited, watching. There was so much at stake. If his foolhardy plan failed him now- “Just as my freedom drives me, there be somethin’ that drives you,” Tia Dalma began. Her lips twisted to reveal bottom teeth, almost in the shape of a smile. “What is that?” The trouble was, Barbossa could not decipher it to be honest or not. “The noble cause,” Hector replied with a smile of his own. “The noble cause of dredging your pride up from the bottom of the ocean?” He rested a hand on chest, wounded. “From me? No! No, o’ course not. To save the innocent and defeat the beastly dragon. Like all heroes.” “You see yourself as the hero of this story, Captain Barbossa?” “I see meself as the hero of all stories.” “Then you will have no problems leading the charge.” With that, Tia Dalma simply began to walk. Her steps were precise, slow and comfortably within the same prints left by Barbossa as he himself had wandered down the shore towards her. It took that moment to register in Barbossa’s head what was going on. “So, we have an accord?” “My motivation relies on the retrieval of your lost toy. And you desire an end to this story.” It seems, in all the talk of dragons and stories that William Turner had finally had his fill. His voice boomed through the silent bay. “We’re all going to end up as stories if we stay here any longer. We have waited for Jack. We have waited for you and even that time has felt far too long. We cannot stay here.” “Aye, ye can!” Barbossa roared back, now a dragon all his own. “I did not spend a whole week being tortured by little horses and dragons and unicorns te come back to you miserable cretins losing yer legs over waiting on a sandy beach!” “You’re mad!” “O’ course I’m mad. I am livid, William Turner. I brought ye a talkin' horse! What more do ye want?” He motioned to Pinkie. Pinkie meekly waved. To that, Will was astoundingly silent. So he should be, presented with a talking bloody horse. “We came te this damned place for Jack. You are waiting in this damned place for Jack and I am going to kill a dragon horse.” “You’re going to kill a dragon,” Will asked, visibly astounded that the conversation was even happening at all. “All by your lonesome?” “Of course not! I have unicorns. And a witch.” Will, to his credit, took in a deep breath. He closed his eyes, rubbing the palms of his hands into the sockets and let out that same breath. He dared to look up the sky, seemingly finding solace in the vast emptiness that it presented. “There is no other choice in this matter?” “None.” “Then we shall venture with you.” That… had not been quite part of Barbossa’s plan. The thought had crossed his mind; why not fetch more for the battle ahead than just Tia Dalma? He had a veritable army of expendables to hand. He had little to no obligation with the Chinese men, after all. And those amongst his own crew that were valuable could put up the fight when required. They had done so on countless occasions. Convincing them to fight Discord was another matter entirely. It had broken bonds to get them into Davy Jones’ Locker. His boots were treading the thinnest of ice. Or so he had thought. “If we are to be stranded then we are better keeping to task. If- if time moves faster in this other place, then we are wasting no more time than simply sitting here.” Half the men could wait for Jack. The other half could venture with him, adding to the numbers against Discord. “That,” Will continued, “and I don’t trust you to succeed on your own.” Bastard. Tia Dalma kept walking, yet she spoke loudly. “Then you have a choice; stay here and have the chance to be free or venture and risk your chance to be lost. There are no certainties in the place where Barbossa has wandered. Which do you desire?” Barbossa looked around to see the words of Tia Dalma having a far greater impact than his own. Whereas before there might have been the possibility of an army raising at his word, her dictation was all the more damning. Yet, three distinct figures teetered on the verge of decision above all the others; William, Elizabeth and Gibbs. “I haven’t the time te explain everything. Time is against us in the most literal sense it can be. Ye either stay here and wait fer Jack or come and battle a beast the likes that human kind has nary imagined te battle before.” That seemed to make quick work of Gibbs. “I think I’ll stay,” he said, nodding at his own wise decision. “I came here for Jack, so it’d be a waste to leave now. I mean, someone should surely wait for him, shouldn’t they?” Barbossa feigned a smile but nodded. Coming or not, it solved an issue; one more down. William and Elizabeth were the more pressing of matters, however. Despite his long week of servitude under Twilight the purple pony, these two were still ploughing through their lover’s quarrel. If there was anything the situation could do without for now, it would be that. Will stepped forward for a moment, leaning more towards Pinkie than anyone else. “Were you exaggerating? About those monsters?” “Oh, no! Not at all. Discord sucks super hard. Before my friends and I defeated Discord the last time, he brainwashed all my friends into twisted husks of their former selves. The world was thrust in a cacophony of chaotic madness the likes your brains can scarcely imagine for even a moment because, if you do, you will fall so deep into madness that you may never leave that dark place. Ever. Again. We were nothing more than twisted puppets caught in the strings that Discord controls, dancing to his twisted tune. Myths are told of him turning the sun inside-out, reversing the flow of light so that only darkness fell upon the-” Barbossa decided enough was probably enough. “We need a particular brand of magic for the issue at hand. Or hoof. But able bodies do not go amiss.” Despite all words spoken, Will seems focused on Elizabeth. She stood somewhat silent in the group, listening but numb enough to simply be fine with that. Will’s face softened at the sight and Barbossa supposed that the man still had all his focus on one issue in particular. “Then… I shall also stay.” Will brought his focus back to Barbossa. “Someone must meet with Jack.” So they must. Though… perhaps those that were to make the trip did not have to do so immediately. There was the time difference itself to think about. More variables that could spectacularly wrong. … Or right, if one twisted them the correct way. “How long has our time run down now, Pinkie?” “Eleven minutes, I think?” She thought? “I kinda stopped counting. Numbers get a little repetitive after you hit ten minutes.” Right. Of course they did. Clearly, Barbossa’s displeasure showed. Pinkie’s ears wilted. “So… home-time?” A strange turn of phrase, but… maybe not. Something else came to mind. Something that might prove valuable in the long run. Or detrimental, depending on how things played out. He would only know in hindsight. “No,” he finally answered. “Not fer you, Pinkie.” For the first time since arriving in the Locker, her senses seemed to hit on something more akin to rational thought. Her eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?” “It means I have another task for you. An important task. It shan’t take ye long.” He felt himself smile. “Only two minutes.” ☠ Pushing through the portal and landing back in Equestria once more, Barbossa and his pet monkey were met with a sight that all but left him breathless. A dreadful sight that, in a moment of weakness, he might admit to fearing outright more than death itself. A rather underwhelming group of dishevelled ponies. Unicorns, especially. So bad his life had become that unicorns had become an underwhelming sight. That is not to say there were only unicorns; Fluttershy, Applejack and Rainbow Dash were at the forefront of the crowd, with Rarity at their side. They stood ahead at his entrance, expectant as the alien ponies moved back. The reactions varied between, but the chieftain among them was something akin to fear. Fear of his self or of whatever unknown danger his entrance posed, he could not say. Either way it was going to be a problem. On top of all that, one particular mare seemed to have a problem with him. A white mare, not unlike Rarity, but with more a boyish look about her. A blindingly blue mane, riddled with streaks of another blue all the way through it. And ridiculous looking spectacles. Deep purple that would surely make it harder for the wearer to see at all. “You stole my speaker,” she stated. Barbossa was quick to give a dry, tired retort. “I have nary an idea of who ye are. Nor what a speaker is. Elseways, I am not the guilty party in this venture and we haven’t the time te argue over the matter of who is and why.” “There’s plenty of you outside.” “Aye, and yer still here. That means we have the same goal.” The mare’s brow furrowed in frustration. “I’m here to help.” “Me too.” Barbossa stared her down for as long as she did the same to him. Others around the room seemed inclined to let the mare take the lead in whatever coup was planned. That is, before a saner pony stood between them. “It’s cool, he’s chill. Mostly.” Rainbow should never be the safe option in any given situation. But the times, they were harsh. Barbossa could only yield. There were others in the room who required more attention. As ready as they had seemed for a return venture, Pintel and Ragetti yielded under the gaze of the little horses staring up at them. Not so much were they filled with fear, as they were dread anxiety. A discomfort that came with crashing a party in which someone of your ilk was not invited. To say they did not belong was an understatement, even amongst the humans stood in the hall. Tia Dalma stood at Barbossa’s side, nary a care over the situation in which she found herself. The ponies were before her in all their garish colours and magical finery, yet she looked upon them as she would any natural phenomena. Men, the sea. The craggy crabs she plucked from the Locker’s dusty sand. The ponies were expected, Barbossa gathered that much. However much she knew, they were not surprising to Tia Dalma. Or Calypso, as he reminded himself. There was little point in calling her anything else. Not now. Rarity was quick to focus on this, as were Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash and Applejack. After the promise of victory, what else would you focus on but the offered exit? “Where have you been? We’ve been here for, like, four hours,” Rainbow eventually voiced. Not quite irritated, but something in there was not pleased. Barbossa could not ignore the mare as she peered around him looking for something. Or somepony. He would need to explain that to them later. “Time got away from us, I must admit. But we’re here now.” Whether there had been an explanation prior to his arrival or not, Barbossa saw fit to get introductions underway. Out of the way. Explanations could come after the important information. “Ponies and gentlemen of Equestria, I give to you the Goddess of the Broiling Sea; Calypso! A being so divine and brutal in her nature that pirates of the distant past saw fit to trap her in a mortal body, separated from the vast degree of her elemental magic and enslaved to a life of-” Calypso, in all ways that she could, dropped all pretence of friendship and camaraderie. Her features fell dark and lightning burned at the space behind her eyes. Barbossa swallowed. Hard. Then continued as best as his nerves allowed. “She is a trapped flower, unfairly imprisoned. And she will aid us in plucking Discord from his garden and locking him away instead.” Like the overgrown weed that he was. There was jubilation, the odd smile. Positivity arose from the ponies, both from those who knew Barbossa personally and those who did not. Even the electric blue maned mare from before was looking to him with something less like disgust. A bright sun was rising on the horizon of their world. They could see it, now. After so long. So could Barbossa. Darkness returned when something fierce grabbed a hold of his wrist. Calypso’s voice came quiet, like a spider beneath grass. “Surely you do not think me under your thumb, Barbossa?” “N-not at all, Calypso. Nothin’ of the sort, I assure ye.” “Then what reason do I have to assist? I shall find the talisman on my own.” “Discord has it. I would think that te deal with him would also deal with your problem in an equal manner. And to do so for th’ good of these wee ponies, here.” “Is that why you have returned? For the good of these ponies?” “I have many reason to be here, Calypso. For the good of this world, and the good of my own.” She looked out towards the ponies with a happy indifference. Letting them know she was an ally, but nothing more. “Then the ponies of this place and the pirates in the other will not be bothered by any truths I have to tell?” To his credit, Barbossa’ composure not waver. His stutter from before was swallowed and the walls reworked. “There are no further truths to tell.” “I am no fool, Barbossa.” The hand on his wrist grew tighter, something distinctly wrong spreading up his arm. Something that was not his arm, not living and breathing and fresh meat filled with life. It put the fear of death in him, letting it spread like foul damp through his veins. “If I did not feel your being here had purpose, there would be nothing left of you. You would be white dust, on the beach, clotting the space between the toes of dirty men and beggars.” Thank the Gods that organised destiny. “I am aware of our circumstances, aye.” “You did not lose the talisman. I have seen your mind at work; you are not a man who easily loses what he wants kept.” “Then what do you propose transpired?” “That you were perhaps the one to choose that it was lost.” “If that were indeed the case, to which I cannot divulge, then I am very lucky te have ye by me side at all.” There was no obvious reply, spare for the silence that followed. Her eyes bore into his, searching far beyond the mere layers of his skin. If she so wished, he had no doubt that his previous state of death could be adequately returned. If not by a simple broken neck, then certainly by the mere wave of her hand. It took only touch to deaden his hand. How little more for death outright? A mere flick of the wrist. Which, as it happens, is likely how she would also break his neck. In truth, he was not certain as to whether Calypso knew the full state of the current situation. She had an inkling at least, that was very much certain. But to what extent did she know? And for long had the information been privy to her? He knew full well that everything could have backfired. That was his life, as of late. His wrist was finally freed from her grasp. With it, complete life was restored. Fresh, thriving life. But with it a cost, of sorts. “I might instead request the piece of eights return,” Calypso stated. “So that we might leave.” “Then at least know what stands te be lost if we do.” He motions quick to the ponies, catching not only Calypso’s immediate attention but theirs as well. Chatter continues under his voice, for brief moments. “This place was peaceful when I arrived. Sickeningly so, I might add. A shared utopia where the sun, moon and stars are kept in careful check and not a life goes uncared for. Where the sun and moon themselves are mothers to children wandering the world below. Look at what has become of those children.” He waved to Fluttershy, the broken caretaker with shackle sores and a shaved head, kept in slavery whilst her captor was none the wiser. To Rainbow Dash, bloody from battle and injured by men she should never have had the misfortune to meet. A mare that would get killed trying to protect those she cared for. To all the other ponies gathered around the room, each with injuries blotting their forms, both minor and otherwise. Burns and scrapes and cuts and bruises, hoof to head and back again. Colourful creatures, once pristine and carefully cared for were thick with the grime of harsh days and nights without rest. “All of this, everything you see, is not the work of nature untamed or chance. It is the work of a vengeful creature. You held within your mighty palm the unbridled fury of the sea, toiling the men that sailed it to your say so. You gave no heed to one life over the other because that is as nature should be. It is an order you kept. Discord chews on that order and leaves the lands untamed and unpredictable for those who dwell within the scraps that remain. Life is not a fair game, but he does not keep to the rules.” “That is why I require your help; to capture a monstrous God that the Brethren Court of old thought you to be. They imprisoned you to gain a freedom they did not require. Without your magic there will never a freedom for this world ever again.” There is once again silence around Barbossa, though the dread from his previous experience was utterly gone. In its place were eager eyes staring up at him from below, each pony reborn with a new outlook in their complexion. “That was very poetic,” chimed Rarity. Barbossa was quick to wave the thought aside. Despite this, Calypso seemed to agree. That didn’t worry Barbossa so much as the kind smile sliding across her lips. For Calypso did not work with kind smiles. “Quite the hero, indeed,” she said. “If it is truly the future of this place that tugs at your heart then by all means, shake my hand. I shall agree to assist.” The smile didn’t seem so hefty a thing to worry about any more. “We have already agreed on many things.” “Call it a show of good faith,” she replied. “The piece returned, and this world saved, for my assistance, Captain Barbossa.” Against all his best judgements, he took her hand in his. That pull of death returned, yanking at every facet of his being. It spread like a virus up his arms, pouring out over him as it reached his shoulder until the burning breath of death consumed him whole. Without the power of the moon, the curse was on him once more, in full show for all to see. No… not the curse. Death was upon him, sickly and empty. The connections of his muscles were growing weak and his skin felt home to insects and parasites. Water held down his clothes, a weak took to his skin. All at once he felt breathless for air and drowning, buried beyond in sand. Caught beneath the waves. Blood roared through his ears with an empty wind, left behind when everything else has wasted away. Dead and dying in equal measure, his brain could not separate the two. Life seeped away from him. With it, the roar of wind vanished to reveal an eternal silence. “Let our pact be binding. Broken glass needs only the slightest pressure before it shatters. Discord has run something sharp through your surface.” That silence was a promise. Literal or not, a pact had been agreed upon. “Do not make me force my hand against the cracks.” “The bargain shall be kept,” Barbossa replied, not so subtly trying to pull his hand back. “To what do you swear it.” “On me honour.” “You are a pirate; there is none to speak off. Perhaps I can offer intensive?” Still holding his hand, she took a step towards him, all but forcing Barbossa to take several back himself. The twisted dance continued until he found himself at a window, only barely within the light that poured from outside. Moonlight. He waited. Nothing happened. He did not change. Calypso released his hand, letting him take in the surprise only for his form to decay in the mere moments it took for their skin to lose contact. The curse… hesitated. An animal scared by a threat made to it, perhaps. But hesitation all the same. “Cracks can be mended. This ‘Discord’ is a lazy thing. Messy. Vile. I can fix you, Barbossa. Even as I am now, I can mend your cracks.” Assuming he could not force Discord into fixing it himself. Which, in all honesty, he had yet to plan.” “Now it seems we both have leverage.” Was not the best thing to hear when dealing with a God. Not that he had all that much leverage to work with. Still… He moved out from the light. “It is ridiculous to threaten me with terms when I have the upper hand.” “I knew your story to be a lie. I knew the piece to be stored away. I assumed I would find it, if not for the stench of magic everywhere in this pretty place. You have hidden it to drive me here for whatever reasons you deem fit to claim. If it is not returned, you will not get far.” “I will neither deny or confirm to the notion that your precious eye was hidden away. There are fates at work far larger than merely the two of us so perhaps we shall agree to the terms as set and not question them further? I shall agree to your terms and prize whilst ye agree to mine.” If she had killed him then and there, there would be little surprise. If she had attacked him, in some form that he could imagine or not, it would have been on his list of expectations. For her to smile sent the blood rushing from his skin. “By all means. I am a patient woman, Barbossa. I have all the time I require.” “Good,” he said. Very much despite himself. He had all the time in the world. There was always plenty of time. It was the issue of there only being one chance that worried him. ☠ “So... you want to do a weird human ritual, suck Discord into it and put all of his magic into nine pieces of whatever-we-can-find and then burn it all in a bowl?” Rainbow asked. Not the most eloquent way to put the incantation, nor the most factual but, “Aye,” he replied. “More or less.” "And Pinkie will help?" "I sure hope so." Calypso sat on the step alongside the portal, legs elegantly crossed to provide comfort whilst everyone else present sat on the floor below. Even to Barbossa, a man who could not be called short under very many circumstances, felt infinitely small with his part as an audience comprised of ponies, a monkey and two Englishmen with nary a thought between them. He imagined this might be what a fancy school feels like. Calypso spoke up, her hand draped carefully over Jack the monkey. Unlike most outsiders, the little creature sat comfortably in her care. “You require nine items in which to route the magic you wish to contain. More importantly than any of that, you need a piece of the self; something physical to draw the magic in the first place.” “What was taken from you?” Ragetti asked. There was a moment before a response actually came. A pregnant pause that seemed wholly uncomfortable to even say, but Calypso did bring an answer. “A lock of my hair.” Her features darkened at the notion these words had any reason to exists at all. “I do not know how. But I will find them and make them pay in kind. When I am whole once again.” Then she would find it painful, Barbossa supposed. Given that Jones was the one directly responsible for her entrapment. But that was for a later day. The here and now was most important and, just like the Brethren Court of old, there was a new task. “Right, everyone!” Barbossa announced. “Empty yer pockets.” Pintel and Ragetti were quick to do so, filled with wisdom enough to know what was being implied; they needed nine items to make the spell work, after all. The less time they needed to spend gathering said items, the better. The ponies, while likely all the wiser for not being Pintel and Ragetti, paused slightly. “We don’t have pockets,” said a blue stallion. “I don’t ask where ye keep yer personal affairs. If ye want Discord gone, we need items to pour his magic into. Said items have to come from somewhere.” That said, Barbossa found his own pockets somewhat lacking in interesting items. Anything would work; playing cards, a toy from a child. Coins or baubles. Bigger items, if they wished. For their own ends and more, however, portability was currently key. But neither did you want something so ridiculously small and insignificant. To lose them posed a whole new risk. If they needed a piece of Discord, then they couldn’t afford to carry huge items around. Or risk losing anything before the ritual was complete. He pulled out his old pocket watch. Bereft of cogs and gears, sure, but it was still a pocket watch. “I have an old watch.” That was one. Looking around the room, Barbossa saw a variety of items and wares. Instruments of science, or magic he supposed. The ponies were quick to latch onto this fact. “I have some tweezers!” “Scissors!” “I don’t know what this is for!” It quickly came together. Even Rainbow got in on the action. “I have this bullet that Twilight took out of my leg?” It was a tad small. Easily lost. But if Rainbow was anything like himself, then the idea of using it against the ones who had hurt her would be a thing most pleasant. Sure, why not? When it came down to it, nine items were laid out over a table top. Most Barbossa recognised as tools. The others were his dead pocket watch, Rainbow’s bullet, the purple spectacles the white mare had been wearing. Plenty enough and a few more besides to make the spell complete. And wouldn’t you know it? The portal room filled with scientific instruments and magical knick-knacks also had a bowl. Life was starting to look grand. Until Calypso offered reality. “You still need a piece of Discord. A tooth, his hair. Anything. The items need to know the magic they will be taking.” That was truly going to be the ultimate task. Barbossa took a new, careful look around the room. Plans needed to be planned and to do so, he needed to know what he had to work with. Twilight had told him about cutie marks; they represented the greatest talent of a pony. With that in mind, he took note of the ponies around the room; cakes, pencils and other mundane items marked their flanks. As far as he could tell, the majority were musicians, painters and common workers. Ponies of the people. Ponies of the people? Even the white mare form before, the one who seemed to have the most fire in her belly, only had a mere musical note on her behind. There were no soldiers or mighty wizards here. Wandering over to Rarity’s side, he was at least pleased the ever powerful ‘Elements of harmony’ were amongst his allies. That counted for something, he supposed. “Ye couldn’t have found a few blacksmiths or butchers?” Rarity scoffed. Or tutted; Barbossa was not sure which was a more appropriate word. “We do not have many butchers in Equestria to begin with, I’ll have you know. Between avoiding trouble and finding ponies actually willing to fight with you, this is the best we could do in the time allotted.” That was a fair reason, he supposed. “Besides,” Rainbow offered. “If all we need to do is rip out his mane or knock out a tooth then we’re all we need! Barbossa was hopeful on that being true. Given the time limit he had set Pinkie, he was almost inclined to agree. Time was growing short, however. Not to the degree that it had been during his trip to the Locker but a new time limit had been imposed. Self-imposed. He needed to keep to that limit if there was any hope of keeping the odds in their favour. So long as Pinkie kept to her task. ☠ Fifteen. Sixteen. Pinkie Pie counted the seconds by in perfect time, jumping evenly between each moment as it ticked by in her mind. Every human in Davy Jones’ Locker moved at her command, shoved into place by her hooves, arranged on the sand like fabric dolls on a child’s bedroom floor. This was going to be the best day. She could just feel it. Seventeen. Eighteen. In-between Twenty! ☠ Despite that time limit, things needed to be set in motion. They needed to plan ahead and send their forces into whatever direction they were best required. With everything explained by his word, that was coming to pass. Rainbow and Rarity were giving individual talks to each pony, brief in nature but to the point; use the skills they were best at to help the cause. ‘Vinyl Scratch’, as the other white unicorn was known, was to use her music. The painter pony was to distract Discord, or perhaps even amuse him. The gardener was to manipulate the plants. It was a part of the operation he wasn’t too well-versed in. As loathe as he was to admit, the ponies themselves were better deciding how best to use their magic. More so when it came to the Elements of Harmony, all of whom had dealt with Discord before. There were warnings spread, of not to let Discord touch your head, not to listen to anyone or anything that seemed out of place. Touching, Barbossa certainly understood. Damn that magic bastard. Even Fluttershy, as quiet as she had been, was moving around and giving advice. Telling ponies how best to ignore him or how they might get near him with their abilities. It was all coming together. The final chapter of this epic tale was underway. It was then that he caught sight of Calypso once more. She was standing, her eyes shifting ever so much towards Applejack. The farm pony was doing nothing in particular that should have stood out from the others; she was assisting, advising. Given what Barbossa had asked her to hide under her hat, he supposed the reason for her catching Calypso’s attention was not related to herself at all. When Barbossa drifted his sights back towards Calypso, she was very suddenly stood right at his side. There was also very sudden hand around his wrist. “Remember. Glass can shatter, Barbossa,” she said. Her grip popped the joints in his wrist. “Do not make me push.” “I have no reason to aggravate, Calypso. We are consenting partners in agreement.” “I can smell it. On her,” she whispered, looking to Applejack. “I am sure of it.” “Surely not. She is the Spirit of Honesty, I am told. Would be very unlike her to steal.” “Perhaps you do not know these ponies well enough.” “Believe you me, I know them well enough. If it were to be the case that honest Applejack had stolen the piece of eight, I am surer still that it will be returned upon our victory against Discord. Even more so if it was granted to her care for safe keepin’.” Calypso moved closer, her nose almost touching his. The heat of her breath flared against his old skin and, for a single moment, he could swear that it burned. “You are playing a black game, Barbossa. Do you so wish to leave the land of the living so soon after being brought back? How high do you hold your greed that it might be worth your ultimate demise should you fail?” Whether she meant by Discord’s hand, or her own, he could not say. Equally, he feared that both could play an equal part. “I won’t fail. Especially not against something the likes of Discord. I am not a man to be crossed. I will not let him get away with what he did.” Calypso looked deep into his eyes, searching. For what, he couldn’t fathom but she seemed to find it. Her lips stretched into a dark smile and she released his wrist. “I do wonder what truly compels you.” As she took her steps back, Barbossa couldn’t help but notice that several eyes were also on him. Fluttershy and Rarity the prime offenders. The latter of which are both smiling. His throat was quickly cleared, and his resolve restored. “I am compelled by giving that vile serpent what he deserves for breaking me. He may be a monster. He may even be a god. But if an insect can steal blood from a creature the likes of man, then we can do the same.” He drew out his sword from his side, pointing it straight for the door. Their goal was ahead. They would reach it. By God, they would reach it and rip out its boons. “We need only swarm.”