Beneath
The small dinghy rocked lightly in the dark, pale waters off of their destination. The sky overhead was grey, lightened from the sun, yet blocking it off behind its silent shroud. It reflected down on to the usual bright blue waters, creating a dark, heavy surface, as though it were night out. The waves were settled, as the crew had their eyes locked on the island up ahead. It was a small, yet heavily forested island, like a large hill of trees and plants punching out of the seas. Anything that might be hidden within it's jungles was secluded, the shadows working with the overpowering plant life. They neared the beach slowly, the dinghy not even running aground until just before the sand, meaning a steep drop off in to the waters below.
Delmaria jumped down from his seat before the bow of the small ship, and slashed his boots in the water as he took a few steps. The crew ferried out behind him, keeping a cautious eye on Leanne, who had been completely without sound since when they pulled just out of Tortuga Harbor shortly before. The ground rose up slightly to be dotted with tremendous boulders, that eventually accumulated to create a small hill of rocks, behind it the light beginnings of the jungle rising.
Delmaria was the first to go forward, slowly maneuvering around the large rocks until he stepped up on to the first flat layer of rock. When he hit the wall, he dug in with his hands, and carefully ascended up, careful not to slip by putting pressure on his wet boots. As he climbed, he could hear the crew wearily following him, trying to find their own way to get up and over. Delmaria reached the top first, looking down as the pile of rocks declined to meet the forest. He wondered exactly why the rocks were formatted like that. Were they trying to keep people out, or keep something locked within?
As Darkskull descended down, he peered along the dirt path that cut in to the trees. He could make out something not too far in the distance; gray, maybe burnt wood, waiting and standing there. He could only catch a glimpse, but he was confident what he saw was what he saw. He stopped as his feet hit the ground, waiting for the rest of the crew to get to him. As he waited, he ran his fingers up and down the handle of the blade sitting at his side. The powerful tingling sensation, to urge to wield it, flowed through his arm, causing a shiver in his spine that rocked his body. The almost felt it in his grasp, cutting down the enemies before him; the blood, the tears - the suffering.
"Captain," called from behind him. He turned to Firesteel, the first of the crew waiting before him. "Are you ok? You seem.. off?"
"I'm fine, mate." the pirate reassured, nodding his head. He turned back to face the trail, and trudged to it. "C'mon lads, pick it up!"
He felt the change in atmosphere as he moved in between the greenery. Gigantic leaves, tree roots, and vines all stuck out as him, brushing his way past, as in the distance, he saw his vision becoming clearer and clear. He noticed something strange about this island as he continued - it was perfectly silent. There was no chirping of birds, or creaking of bugs. It felt like an aura of passiveness as around him, like that feeling after attending a funeral.
He stepped out of the jungle, and in to a little space, his sight now before him. It was not an area of charred trees, or a presence of divineness - it was a ghost town. A large, grassy opening in the shape of a circle was populated by a few large, grey wooded buildings, burnt and half-destroyed. Large, gaping holes sat in their sides and roofs, as debris laid skewn all across the ground. There were only five buildings, each of them drab and lifeless. The town looked and had the feel of more of an abandoned internment camp than an old town for mystics and gypsies, or was that just the voodoo in the air? Either way, it was creepy.
The crew spanned out easily, going in different directions to investigate. Delmaria crept along, taking in the surroundings a patch of dirt was in the center of everything. Large crates and barrels in front and at the sides of the buildings around him. The most eerie feature was the fact that the entire island seemed to rise up around this place, and then drop off in steep hills, the tree tops covering the edges of the place. It made the place feel very secretive, intimidating, and scary.
As Delmaria past by the smallest of the buildings directly to his right, a medium-sized, run down shack, with a tile roof still mainly intact, he began to hear what sounded like a muffled whimper. It stopped him, like he was judging against what he had sensed. But as he sharpened his ears to listen in closely, he could hear it better and better; a few sobs, almost like they were being pushed down in to silence. Delmaria made his way to the steps leading on to the uncovered porch; try to stop them from creaking as he went up. He readied himself as he stepped before the door, and with his left hand, slowly pushed it open.
He peered in to a dark, muddled room, papers, chairs, and tables thrown in every direction. It was long, like a small boarding house for field workers, with a deep, murky scent, having it been sitting out in the moist, warm air of the Caribbean, undisturbed for so long. He turned his attention to the source of the noise, off in the corner closest to him. Nestled behind a table, curled in a ball, was a boy.
He was a handsome child, roughly twelve, maybe thirteen years of age. His blond hair fell in front of his face quietly, his face dirtied by a few bloody, uncared cuts, and muck. He wore cut, outfit shorts and a t-shirt, which quaked as he shivered. The boy looked up at him, his face becoming exasperated and fearful. After a moment of tension, Delmaria asked quietly, "James O'Malley?"
The boy was unsure at first. He scurried back a little, until he slowly nodded his head, yes. Delmaria's body was overrun with calm and happiness, knowing that somebody he had never met was safe. He saw in those eyes the face of innocence and childhood - it reminded him of himself.
Delmaria gripped the door frame and turned around, to look in to the clearing. He yelled, "LEANNE, OVER HERE!" beckoning her over as her head popped up. As the rest of the crew rushed towards him, he went in, towards the boy, and knelt before him. "It'll be okay, lad."
As Leanne rushed in behind him, her face instantly became dramatic and overwhelmed with emotion. He nearly dove past Delmaria, and clinged to her son, cradling him in to her arms, and beginning to cry wildly. "Oh my God, oh my God, James, oh my baby boy!" she cried as she rocked him back and forth, her son moving with her. It was the first time in a while Delmaria had seen anything like this. He felt as though he were warming a little layer of ice away from his heart.
After a few minutes of Leanne crying over her son, Delmaria reached out his hand, stopping them. As the bundle turned towards him, Darkskull placed his hand softly on the boy's shoulder and asked, "James, how did you get here?"
The boy's voice was heavily shaken, but he petered out, "They dragged me here.. like the others... I escaped.... they've been hunting me..."
"They who? Others? And where?" Delmaria questioned him.
"Th-he things. They brought all these people in to the dungeon with me... the sewers.. oh God..." he looked like he was going to start sobbing again.
"Do you know what they did with them?"
James wiggled out of his mother's grasp easily, to face Darkskull fully. "They had us in these.. cells. Everyday they'd come and take more people "down below." Deeper, down farther. Nobody that ever went down came back up."
Delmaria nodded. "And, where, is the dungeon?"
Slowly, O'Malley got on his feet. His legs were still meaty, but a little weak. For spending weeks upon weeks in a jail, he was surely fit with plenty of meat on his bones. Delmaria wondered how this was so, as the young boy walked to the door way, then motioning Delmaria to him.
Delmaria got up and walked to James, who was pointing outward. He was pointing to the center of the patch of dirt, where there sat a small trap door. Darkskull sighed, and nodded. He tore off his coat, throwing it back to Buck behind him. "All of you, escort Leanne and her son back to the ship. I want to go down alone."
1
Delmaria jumped down in to the dank corridor as he slammed the door shut above him. He was in a long, stone chasm, a thin layer of water beneath his boots. The tunnel ran around a turn, out of his vision, a few scattered torches lighting the way. He placed his hand just far from the cutlass's handle, and began to shift through the water. His other hand was outstretched just to keep his hand off the grim-infested stone blocks that made up the cramped, curved tunnel. An overpowering rotting stench filled his nose as he passed through the still, lifeless air, as though he were walking right through the hanging clothes of the dead souls that shivered here. He could not hear, see, or feel anything, but he knew that this unknown place was but a chamber of death, an outer branch of the underworld.
As Delmaria walked along, he picked an ancient wooden torch off the wall with his empty hand, using it to light his path. He could feel the soft, wet wood sink under his grasp, like it were completely hollow inside. He brought the torch lower to the ground to see what he was stepping in, only to leap back, terrified.
Ungodly large creatures infested the sides of the small path, leeching and curling as the fire cackled near them. Thick, black millipedes, perhaps the length of a man’s arm, huge, plump maggots that sucked on the dirt on the floor, and massive earth worms were only a few among the creepers that sat little away from him. He gathered a brave breath, and continued his travel deeper, trying to resist the urge to gain his speed even a little. Causing unnecessary noise might just lead him to his demise, he thought.
Finally, after a few minutes of winding through the sewer-like surroundings, he was left staring in to a room of jail cells. Three rusted, brutally miscared iron-barred cells sat on the left side of the room, the other end leading off down a steepening, narrow path. Chains hung down from the bare right wall, where deformed skeletons swung, equipped with huge gashes and bumps on their bones, and covered in a deep layer of mold than covered every inch. The sockets of the eyes, hips, and other smaller ones looked like they were nearly filled from the putrid fungi, giving the effect that it was a line of lifeless monsters kept on the wall. But while this was quite a spectacle, Delmaria was more focused on the left side of the room, behind the bars.
Behind them were groups of human beings, but less of humans than anything else. They had been starved and beaten to a point that they looked like nothing more than ghosts with a thin layer of flesh, sagging and uncaring. It was filled with a wide array of people - men, elderly peoples, women, and even young children, the sight so disgusting that he didn't even want to look; but he couldn't help himself. One of them, a figure whose gender was undecidable, who was slunk up right before the bars of the first cell, reached up with all his might to bring his arm off the ground, and curl and finger to gesture the pirate towards him.
Concerned, Darkskull jumped down in to the hard tile floor and ran over to the thing, kneeling next to it. His voice was nearly unintelligible, mumbled by its eerie dryness, coldness, and dullness. "Arv... arne... are... here.... sah... save..." he panted. Even the slightest amount of work took all of his effort.
Delmaria was unsure how to answer. He knew he couldn't save this man now, in the state he was in, much less the rest of them. He felt so helpless and sad, but the figure could pick up on that. There was no emotion in it's face, but Delmaria could feel that it was disheartened. It's eyes closed, as it asked, "M.. mn... bu... boy... uh... uh-ok.. kaee.. Jam.. es.."
Delmaria's voice was soft and easy. "Yes, James is safe." he assured the person.
The skeleton rubbed it's head on the floor, like a nod, and Delmaria could make out, just slightly, what looked like a smile. It let out a heave of air, before the room going silent. It was the last of them to die.
Delmaria sighed, and turned his head to his right, where he could tell the fortress continued. If he had come this far, he told himself, he wanted to know what the hell had done this. He got up, and strode towards the darkness, when realized there was no floor in front of him. He stopped drastically just before the ledge, looking down in the swirling darkness below. He gathered himself, and took one final breath, jumping down confidently in to the abyss.
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And, I'll leave it off there. Rest assured, though, I'll probably so anxious to write the next part, it'll be out in the next few days.
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