Darko Cernovsek
Soul Of Vengeance
Preface: This short story references events that happened in one of my RPs.
. If you're interested in more backstory, feel free to check it out.
THE CARIBBEAN, 221 NAUTICAL MILES SOUTHWEST OF PORT ROYAL, JAMAICA
11.08.2024, LATE EVENING
Aboard the Restless Spirit, a converted fishing trawler-turned treasure hunting boat, ostensibly flying under the flag of Jamaican archeological society, under command of one Aidan Lowell Roberts, a self-proclaimed heir to the infamous pirate captain Bartholomew Roberts. Almost four hundred years ago, as far the stories his grandparents told him went, his ancestor went up against an obscure female pirate captain, by the name of Avelyne Connard. They had a winner-takes-all contest on the unnamed island the Spirit was currently searching around, and apparently killed each other, before either of them could claim the 500 kilos of Spanish Gold, that Connard had hoped to bury here, after stealing it from under his ancestor's nose.
Lots of rumors and legends about her survived the centuries, including some unsubstantiated accounts of vampirism and other fanciful tales. Aidan dismissed all of that as superstitious nonsense, his mind set on claiming the hoard that his ancestor failed to retrieve, all those centuries ago. Many have tried to convince him it was merely a legend. Some have claimed that the gold had been found and plundered, long ago. Yet others cautioned him that he would be unable to keep any of it, as it technically still belonged to the Spanish government. But he had his ways. Channels. Contacts. Laundering that much in gold bullion would be tricky, but not impossible.
This was their second day of searching.
"Keep on that seabed scan! You know what we're looking for... a ship's carcass should't be that hard to find." - the man growled behind his neatly trimmed moustache, eyes transfixed on a thermal-enhanced imager, where the contours of the seabed below slowly passed under the trawler moving at low speed.
"It's been half a milennia, Aidie... I wouldn't be surprised if the whole thing rotted away, you know." - a female voice, belonging to his long-time squeeze, Kathryn, tried to soothe him.
"The divers have already looked through every nook and cranny closer to coast, and found zilch. Now I know you've got your mind set on this, but maybe--" - she continued, before he cut her off.
"Then we're not looking hard enough! My ol' Dad spent his twilight years makin' maps of the bottom around this island. He's been here himself twice, and found a few buckles and a musket dating from that era. But he didn't have the kind of tech we've got on the Spirit, to do a thorough search!"
"Maybe it's been buried by the sediment." - one of the crew suggested suddenly, "Storms around this island have always been fierce, and could've upended the bedrock several times over, across the centuries. If a ship was ever sunk around here, it could be buried."
That man was a qualified geologist, and knew what he was talking about. Pointing a finger at him, Aidan nodded fiercely.
"Exactly. EXACTLY! Frank, you're worth every cent I spend on your commission, and then some!" - with a grin.
The man grinned back.
"Yeah well, keep that in mind when it comes to doling out the shares. Anyway, the question is, if it's been buried, where do we start digging? And how do we even know it's still aboard ship? If this Connard had half a brain in her head, she'd have unloaded it somewhere on the island, not kept it aboard. Easier to hide, in that jungle out there." - he pointed to the lush, verdant island in the near distance, across the glassy moonlit sea. The place looked virtually unchanged, from those times. And thanks to the discovery of several endangered animal species on it, it was declared off-limits to any kind of permanent habitation.
"Honey... you're not planning on going ashore? Y-you know it's not allowed... we could all be fined, or even end up in jail, if the coast guard finds us on the island." - Kathryn warned him, seeing the glint in the man's eyes.
"It's a risk we'll have to take! Trust me... we'll find it, load it up and be gone, before anyone stumbles across us. After all as far as Jamaican authorities are concerned, we're here conducting an archeological survey of the bottom around the island. We filed all the travel plans, and got all the permits needed! Don't worry, they've got no reason to snoop on us." - Aidan assured her.
***
EARLY MORNING THE NEXT DAY... LANDFALL
A small expedition was assembled on the beach. Aidan, Kathryn, Frank, and two others. Each dressed for the occassion, with hiking clothes, portable insect repellants, and handheld satellite phones, once it was confirmed that cell signals were completely unavailable out here. Even on the ship, during their approach, the Wifi was spotty, but here - there was nothing.
"Great... so much for keeping this up on TikTok... I hate wilderness!" - the woman grumbled, rolling her eyes, shutting off and pocketing her iPhone in disgust.
"Not only can I end up in jail for this; I'm totally cut off from civilization." - she glared at Aidan, mock-angrily. He couldn't help but chuckle, giving her ass a light spank.
"I'd be more worried about the spiders, sweetheart. If you know what's good for you, you'll keep those shoes on at all times." - he wisecracked. For which he got an irritated punch to the shoulder from her.
"Fuck you! If I find one, I'll put it in your sleeping bag at night, Aidie!" - she hissed, as he held up his hands.
"But you've gotta admit, this place is beautiful. Right?! The kind of spot I'm thinking for our honeymoon, if we ever get there!" - he suggested, hugging her from behind.
"I mean, yeah, sure... I'm just..." - Kathryn paused there, biting her lip, her eyes fixed on the jungle-covered mountain slope, looming in the distance past the shoreline, "...nervous. Not even sure about what. Something awful happened here."
"Sure, a pirate dust-up happened here, between two real nasty customers. Don't imagine it was pretty!" - Frank butted in, "...but it happened a long time ago! Unless we're now scared of ghosts!" - he laughed.
She glared daggers at him, but said nothing, just stirring slightly, turning her attention back to the jungle.
"Alright, let's move out!" - Aidan called for the team to get moving.
The first few hundred meters inward, were pretty straightforward. The foliage had not yet escalated to require machetes to cut through, and the ground was solid and easy to traverse. They made good time, and were soon coming up on the first slopes of the mountain.
"Hey boss? Check this out..." - one of the two men called out, standing above what looked like a rotten bundle of some kind, tucked between two jutting rocks, near a large tree.
"What do you have?" - Aidan approached, peering over the man's shoulder.
It seemed to be a half-rotten, mouldy spool of rope, covered in moss and fungus. The type of non-synthetic weave and the level of decay, told the men immediately that it wasn't any kind of modern rope. As Aidan tentatively touched it with his booted foot, it disintegrated, falling apart as mould-covered strands.
"Yep... that's period-correct all right. Probably been rotting here for the past four centuries." - the man nodded to himself.
"HEY FRANK! Looks like your guess that they came ashore, is right on the money!" - he shouted in the vague direction of the others.
Minutes later, now beginning to delve into the jungle proper, they found torn pieces of someone's shirt, complete with lapels, half-buried in mud, next to a pile of moss-covered bones, and a rusted dagger. Even to a cursory look, a couple of the bones looked mangled and broken, and the skull was caved in on the left side. Kathryn retched, turning her head away.
"Oh my God! Was he... b-beaten to death?!" - she exclaimed, stumbling away in shock.
"Heavy blunt-force trauma... open breakages... someone or something did a real number on him, boss." - one of the men confirmed.
"You don't think that was done with a sword, though? Maybe a few really hard slashes or something?" - Aidan asked dubiously.
"Not likely. I'd say a club or mace or some shit. Or just a big rock. And given the number of impacts and breakages... whoever did this didn't stop beating until this guy was tenderized meat." - the man whistled, a touch nervously.
"Let's get out of here! Please... Aidie." - Kathryn's tone was openly pleading, as she pressed against him.
He looked at her, gently lifting her chin.
"Try to relax, sweetheart. Whatever happened here was a LONG time ago! Alright? Bunch of pirate scum killed each other, left their gold around here somewhere, and now we're just gonna get it ourselves! All we gotta do, is find it, and once we're out of here, we'll be set for life! Besides, what kind of a Roberts would I be, to run scurrying away because of spooky piles of bones?"
"I don't CARE! What if the place is cursed?! What if we end up like thi--" - she started getting hysterical, but he shook her more forcefully, holding her teary gaze.
"LISTEN. There. Is. No. Such. Thing. As curses. Alright? Or spooks, or wraiths, or ghosts, or whatever else you think is around here! There's nothing here but remains of a long-forgotten battle, some wildlife, and half a tonne of Spanish gold bullion, that I plan to get my hands on. And once we get it, we won't have to worry about a goddamn thing for the rest of our lives, and we'll be richer then God himself!" - firmly.
Even as he said it, though, the wind rustling through the jungle seemed to take on a more... ominous... undertone, and a shadow seemed to pass over the jungle canopy. Frank and one of the men looked up, startled - but there was nothing there.
As the group continued, Frank approached to walk beside him.
"All the same, I suggest we unpack our guns. Just in case." - he whispered, quietly. Aidan nodded, taking off his rucksack as he walked, and pulling out two items. A sheathed machete, and a pump-action shotgun, which he slung over his shoulder.
***
SIX HOURS LATER - EARLY EVENING - DEEP JUNGLE
Despite the sun being high up on the sky, the foliage was so thick and dense, that for all intents and purposes, they were travelling through twilight. The air was becoming increasingly heady and full of moisture, impairing the already laboured breathing of the people unaccustomed to long treks through the tropical jungle. They were following the suggested GPS route, that supposedly intersected the center of the island.
Slick sweat pouring down his neck, Aidan finally called a halt.
"About time... I feel like my feet are made of lead weights..." - Kathryn muttered, finding a spot under a tree, to collapse heavily off her feet. She leaned back, splattering some water across her face, then swallowing a pair of vitamin pills. Her voice betrayed only resignation, in place of her earlier unease and hysterics. She was just too tired to care.
"This is as far as we'll go for today." - Aidan assured her, then motioned the others to break out the camping gear.
Soon enough, a kettle of mint tea was boiling over an electric cooker, and a tempting scent of prime ribs and mashed potatoes was beginning to tickle the palate. Unlike their long-lost precursors, who once subsisted here on animals they could catch, the expedition was not lacking in trappings of the modern world.
"What do you think of all those... effgys... we came across, earlier? Some kind of ritualism? To mount a corpse up like that and keep it propped, takes some serious effort." - Frank asked quietly, munching on a rib. He kept his voice down enough that Kathryn couldn't overhear - she was freaked out enough as it was.
"Maybe. Or maybe it was terror tactics... I'm pretty sure most of those were pirates. I saw some rusted blades and flintlocks. I'd say they had a huge battle right here in the jungle, probably hunting each other down over quite a period of time. What I don't get is... how are they still as well preserved as they are. I mean sure, they're rotted away, but after four centuries, I'd expect bones to be all that's left. But many of them are still... ehh..." - Aiden paused.
"Juicy?" - Frank put in, in a whisper.
"Yeah. Almost... half-mummified. Which makes zero sense, in this heat and humidity." - Aidan muttered. The two men continued eating in silence. Despite their steadfast protestations to the contrary... they couldn't help but begin to share Kathryn's view, that this place was somehow - cursed.
As the meal went on, everyone felt sleep inexorably pushing itself onto their tired minds. Was it just the jungle itself, and the grueling heat and dampness? Or was something... else... compelling them into the world of dreams?
Of nightmares?
***
The world was on fire.
At least, that was what it looked like, to the terrified faces of the five people in the expedition, as they snapped awake, to see walls of flame all around them, and hear the screams of many mixing with the howls of pain, and clashes of weapons all around. Smoke was billowing through the night skies, as the battle unfolded all around them, yet mercifully not touching them.
"Aidan! AIDAN! What's happening?!" - Kathryn screamed, stumbling through the smoke and ashes, as the spectres of long-dead pirates and slaves killed each other all around her.
"Kat?! KAT?! Where are you?!" - he yelled back, stumbling blindly towards the source of her voice. They found each other, hugging tightly.
"Must be a vision of some kind... of what happened! It can't hurt us... let's find the others!" - the man tried to sound as reassuring as possible.
"AARGHHH!" - a hulking pirate spectre rose from the ashes in front of them, advancing on the two with twin cutlasses raised above his head. Aidan reached for his pump-action, putting a shell right down the centre of mass of the shape, to no effect.
Suddenly, another shape bullrushed the first, and the two rolled away into the burning underbrush, slashing and stabbing at each other. A ragged, foul voice echoed through the inferno...
~~"Kill 'em all! ALL OF 'EM! And find that bloody undead wench! She'll be tellin' me where the gold is, 'afore I gut her!!"~~
At this voice, Aidan froze. It could only have been - his ancestor himself. At his side, he could feel Kathryn quaking in terror.
"Was that... w-was that... him? Your... y-y..." - she stuttered, eyes wide like dinner plates looking up at him. For the first time, she could see her lover's face turn - pale - in fear.
He nodded, a quick, curt gesture, trying to control his sudden shiver.
"It's him. Black Bart... Y-you know, my ol' Dad always tried to describe to me - what he sounded like... but... he aint't ever got close!" - Aidan stuttered.
"And did he say 'undead', or did I just imagine that?!" - Frank's terrified voice suddenly came from behind them, as the three other members found the two, now huddling in a tight circle in the middle of the bloody firestorm.
"No way. No fuckin' way! All those stories about Connard were just stupid tales. I-I d-don't believe that." - Aidan shook his head, sounding more like he wanted to reassure himself of that, then actually believing it.
"So how do we get out of this shit?!" - one of the men screamed, fear very audible in his tone, aiming his weapon all around, in a random pattern, at shapes and spectres appearing and disappearing around them. A few more shots were fired, but none seemed to have any effect on the illusory battle happening around them. It happened a long time ago, and they were just re-living it. Observers, in the middle of a pandemonium. Or just losing their minds.
Nobody had a good answer. But all of a sudden, the entire macabre tableau around them seemed to... slow down and pause... in time.
***
Through the smoke and fire, a female figure seemed to approach. She was tall and statuesque, but they couldn't see her face. Only a pair of red eyes, on a shadowy form of her face. She seemed as ethereal as all of the other shapes and spectres around them, yet... not a part of it all. Like a projection of someone else's mind, inserting itself into their collective dream. Perhaps - controlling it.
"There is no gold to be found here, little thieves." - the female spectre spoke, once she stopped, a dozen paces away from the group. Flames and smoke were playing across her shadowy form, yet no features could be made out, aside from those red eyes. Her voice was as distorted in shadow as her appearance, like nails across a pane of broken glass.
"WHO ARE YOU?!" - Aidan yelled angrily.
The figure laughed. A darkly musical laughter, that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
"I've been known by many names, across time. One of them, was Avelyne Connard. Lifetimes ago, a trove of gold was indeed buried on this island. My property, kept away from your ancestor's unworthy hands."
"YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT MY ANCESTOR! HE WAS THE GREATEST PIRATE WHO EVER LIVED! AND WHAT ARE YOU? SOME SPOOK IN THE NIGHT?!" - Aidan roared angrily back, snapping up his shotgun and letting off a shot at the figure.
That musical laughter returned, with a trace of mocking undertone in it now. Clearly, his fear was easily picked up on.
When the figure spoke again, her tone was serious and intent, though.
"I am the one who tasted last, of his blood, before his end came. I am the one who took everything from him, including his life. All because he didn't know when to back off, and tried to destroy me. He let his pride override his better judgement. Don't make his mistake, Aidan. I tell you once agan, there is no gold there. I have had it buried there, only for a short while, until I could move it safely, and make use of it. There is nothing to be found on that island, but the bleached bones of the damned, the unfortunate, and the unforgiven. And perhaps, madness, for you and those that followed you on your foolish quest. Heed my advice, and leave the past, in the past. It isn't worth your lives. It wasn't even worth ours, back in the day. Not as many as were lost, on both sides."
"Are you... a-a-a... a vam---" - Kathryn managed to find her voice, but was interrupted by Aidan.
"AND I'M SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE WHAT SOME SPOOK SAYS?! YOU'RE NOT EVEN REAL! AND YOU'RE A LYING BITCH! BLACK BART DIED IN HIS SLEEP, MANY YEARS LATER! NOBODY DRANK HIS BLOOD!" - he roared in defiance.
The laughter again.
"Believe what you wish. Makes no difference to me. However, it may make a difference to those with you, and how far along into your obsession are they willing to play into. I've said what I came to say. There is no gold there. Not one bar. All of it was taken, centuries ago. Taken and used for my purposes. You can stay there and keep digging, finding naught but trinkets and bones, or you can let it go. Plus, keep in mind, I now know where you are. It's a simple matter for me to make a few phonecalls, and alert the Jamaican authorities to your... unauthorised... presence on the island. They do take their wilderness-preserve protection zones very seriously."
"If you really are who you say, we can now expose you! Whatever the hell you're supposed to be, the whole world will know you're not human! Everyone will know the true story of Avelyne Connard!" - Frank retorted angrily, but uneasily as well. His timbre wasn't nearly as bellicose.
The figure chuckled.
"Feel free. Let's just say I won't lose sleep over it. And there is a very good reason I'm not letting you see my face. Lunatics raving about pirate queens, vampires, werewolves and spooks are all too common out there, especially given recent events in Europe, and the Coalition war. Who knows, you may end up sharing the same padded cell as some of them. Consider what I've said. And make the right choice while you can. You wanted adventure? You've got one. You've even got an explanation, which is more then I've ever given anyone else. You've got an insight into what really happened there. It was a disaster, for all involved, and it cost me more then you will ever know. But there is no trove of gold to be had. Accept it."
"And Aidan... I can also show you, what happened to Bart. What I did to him. I can make you see through my eyes of memory. With your mind the way it is now, it'll break you. I don't want to do that, I've got no quarrel with you. But I do need you to let it go."
With that, the shadowy female figure seemed to dissipate through the smoke and flames, before she vanished.
***
BACK ON THE SPIRIT, FIVE HOURS LATER... STEAMING AT FLANK SPEED AWAY FROM THE ISLAND
"Is he still sedated?" - Frank asked, putting a gentle hand on Kathryn's shoulder.
She hadn't moved, or looked up, sitting by the side of her lover's bed and clutching his strangely - cold hand tightly. The expression on her face was empty, yet haunted. Finally, she spoke softly, lifting her head partially, exposing a whale of a black left eye:
"I've never seen him like that. Ever! When we even brought up leaving - h-he... I could tell from his eyes he was ready to kill us all. He - he never... HIT me before!" - a sob racked her.
Frank was silent for a long moment, his own expression hard. He himself had known his friend for years, and what he saw there in the jungle from him, after they woke up from that... whatever it was... rattled him. Homicidal rage, and obsessive fury. The two men had to physically hold him down, while he injected him with the tranquiliser. A dosage high enough to send a horse to sleep.
"Do you think it was real? What we saw in the dream? What - she - said?" - Kathryn asked quietly.
"I don't know. And I think... I think it's better we never find out." - Frank admitted heavily.
"Was she really a vampi--" - Kathryn persisted, but he cut her off, with a nervous shake of his head.
"No. Don't... don't go there. What matters now is that we figure out how to help Aidan. I just hope he's going to let go of this place, eventually. And that whatever she - showed him - in the end, didn't really break him."
"But she said she COULD! Not that she WOULD! She had no reason to! We were going to leave, goddamn it!" - the woman exploded at that.
Frank shrugged.
"Depends on how much you can trust... someone... something... like that."
"Do you trust her?" - he added.
"No... I guess not." - Kathryn admitted, wiping off her tears. In her expression now, was something deadly.
"But if she twisted my Aidan's mind like that... I don't care how. Or where. Or when. I'll make her pay for that. Real or not." - she promised softly, before lowering her head to her man's shoulder once more.
Frank sighed, not sure what to say, before making his way out of the cabin.
THE END
THE CARIBBEAN, 221 NAUTICAL MILES SOUTHWEST OF PORT ROYAL, JAMAICA
11.08.2024, LATE EVENING
Aboard the Restless Spirit, a converted fishing trawler-turned treasure hunting boat, ostensibly flying under the flag of Jamaican archeological society, under command of one Aidan Lowell Roberts, a self-proclaimed heir to the infamous pirate captain Bartholomew Roberts. Almost four hundred years ago, as far the stories his grandparents told him went, his ancestor went up against an obscure female pirate captain, by the name of Avelyne Connard. They had a winner-takes-all contest on the unnamed island the Spirit was currently searching around, and apparently killed each other, before either of them could claim the 500 kilos of Spanish Gold, that Connard had hoped to bury here, after stealing it from under his ancestor's nose.
Lots of rumors and legends about her survived the centuries, including some unsubstantiated accounts of vampirism and other fanciful tales. Aidan dismissed all of that as superstitious nonsense, his mind set on claiming the hoard that his ancestor failed to retrieve, all those centuries ago. Many have tried to convince him it was merely a legend. Some have claimed that the gold had been found and plundered, long ago. Yet others cautioned him that he would be unable to keep any of it, as it technically still belonged to the Spanish government. But he had his ways. Channels. Contacts. Laundering that much in gold bullion would be tricky, but not impossible.
This was their second day of searching.
"Keep on that seabed scan! You know what we're looking for... a ship's carcass should't be that hard to find." - the man growled behind his neatly trimmed moustache, eyes transfixed on a thermal-enhanced imager, where the contours of the seabed below slowly passed under the trawler moving at low speed.
"It's been half a milennia, Aidie... I wouldn't be surprised if the whole thing rotted away, you know." - a female voice, belonging to his long-time squeeze, Kathryn, tried to soothe him.
"The divers have already looked through every nook and cranny closer to coast, and found zilch. Now I know you've got your mind set on this, but maybe--" - she continued, before he cut her off.
"Then we're not looking hard enough! My ol' Dad spent his twilight years makin' maps of the bottom around this island. He's been here himself twice, and found a few buckles and a musket dating from that era. But he didn't have the kind of tech we've got on the Spirit, to do a thorough search!"
"Maybe it's been buried by the sediment." - one of the crew suggested suddenly, "Storms around this island have always been fierce, and could've upended the bedrock several times over, across the centuries. If a ship was ever sunk around here, it could be buried."
That man was a qualified geologist, and knew what he was talking about. Pointing a finger at him, Aidan nodded fiercely.
"Exactly. EXACTLY! Frank, you're worth every cent I spend on your commission, and then some!" - with a grin.
The man grinned back.
"Yeah well, keep that in mind when it comes to doling out the shares. Anyway, the question is, if it's been buried, where do we start digging? And how do we even know it's still aboard ship? If this Connard had half a brain in her head, she'd have unloaded it somewhere on the island, not kept it aboard. Easier to hide, in that jungle out there." - he pointed to the lush, verdant island in the near distance, across the glassy moonlit sea. The place looked virtually unchanged, from those times. And thanks to the discovery of several endangered animal species on it, it was declared off-limits to any kind of permanent habitation.
"Honey... you're not planning on going ashore? Y-you know it's not allowed... we could all be fined, or even end up in jail, if the coast guard finds us on the island." - Kathryn warned him, seeing the glint in the man's eyes.
"It's a risk we'll have to take! Trust me... we'll find it, load it up and be gone, before anyone stumbles across us. After all as far as Jamaican authorities are concerned, we're here conducting an archeological survey of the bottom around the island. We filed all the travel plans, and got all the permits needed! Don't worry, they've got no reason to snoop on us." - Aidan assured her.
***
EARLY MORNING THE NEXT DAY... LANDFALL
A small expedition was assembled on the beach. Aidan, Kathryn, Frank, and two others. Each dressed for the occassion, with hiking clothes, portable insect repellants, and handheld satellite phones, once it was confirmed that cell signals were completely unavailable out here. Even on the ship, during their approach, the Wifi was spotty, but here - there was nothing.
"Great... so much for keeping this up on TikTok... I hate wilderness!" - the woman grumbled, rolling her eyes, shutting off and pocketing her iPhone in disgust.
"Not only can I end up in jail for this; I'm totally cut off from civilization." - she glared at Aidan, mock-angrily. He couldn't help but chuckle, giving her ass a light spank.
"I'd be more worried about the spiders, sweetheart. If you know what's good for you, you'll keep those shoes on at all times." - he wisecracked. For which he got an irritated punch to the shoulder from her.
"Fuck you! If I find one, I'll put it in your sleeping bag at night, Aidie!" - she hissed, as he held up his hands.
"But you've gotta admit, this place is beautiful. Right?! The kind of spot I'm thinking for our honeymoon, if we ever get there!" - he suggested, hugging her from behind.
"I mean, yeah, sure... I'm just..." - Kathryn paused there, biting her lip, her eyes fixed on the jungle-covered mountain slope, looming in the distance past the shoreline, "...nervous. Not even sure about what. Something awful happened here."
"Sure, a pirate dust-up happened here, between two real nasty customers. Don't imagine it was pretty!" - Frank butted in, "...but it happened a long time ago! Unless we're now scared of ghosts!" - he laughed.
She glared daggers at him, but said nothing, just stirring slightly, turning her attention back to the jungle.
"Alright, let's move out!" - Aidan called for the team to get moving.
The first few hundred meters inward, were pretty straightforward. The foliage had not yet escalated to require machetes to cut through, and the ground was solid and easy to traverse. They made good time, and were soon coming up on the first slopes of the mountain.
"Hey boss? Check this out..." - one of the two men called out, standing above what looked like a rotten bundle of some kind, tucked between two jutting rocks, near a large tree.
"What do you have?" - Aidan approached, peering over the man's shoulder.
It seemed to be a half-rotten, mouldy spool of rope, covered in moss and fungus. The type of non-synthetic weave and the level of decay, told the men immediately that it wasn't any kind of modern rope. As Aidan tentatively touched it with his booted foot, it disintegrated, falling apart as mould-covered strands.
"Yep... that's period-correct all right. Probably been rotting here for the past four centuries." - the man nodded to himself.
"HEY FRANK! Looks like your guess that they came ashore, is right on the money!" - he shouted in the vague direction of the others.
Minutes later, now beginning to delve into the jungle proper, they found torn pieces of someone's shirt, complete with lapels, half-buried in mud, next to a pile of moss-covered bones, and a rusted dagger. Even to a cursory look, a couple of the bones looked mangled and broken, and the skull was caved in on the left side. Kathryn retched, turning her head away.
"Oh my God! Was he... b-beaten to death?!" - she exclaimed, stumbling away in shock.
"Heavy blunt-force trauma... open breakages... someone or something did a real number on him, boss." - one of the men confirmed.
"You don't think that was done with a sword, though? Maybe a few really hard slashes or something?" - Aidan asked dubiously.
"Not likely. I'd say a club or mace or some shit. Or just a big rock. And given the number of impacts and breakages... whoever did this didn't stop beating until this guy was tenderized meat." - the man whistled, a touch nervously.
"Let's get out of here! Please... Aidie." - Kathryn's tone was openly pleading, as she pressed against him.
He looked at her, gently lifting her chin.
"Try to relax, sweetheart. Whatever happened here was a LONG time ago! Alright? Bunch of pirate scum killed each other, left their gold around here somewhere, and now we're just gonna get it ourselves! All we gotta do, is find it, and once we're out of here, we'll be set for life! Besides, what kind of a Roberts would I be, to run scurrying away because of spooky piles of bones?"
"I don't CARE! What if the place is cursed?! What if we end up like thi--" - she started getting hysterical, but he shook her more forcefully, holding her teary gaze.
"LISTEN. There. Is. No. Such. Thing. As curses. Alright? Or spooks, or wraiths, or ghosts, or whatever else you think is around here! There's nothing here but remains of a long-forgotten battle, some wildlife, and half a tonne of Spanish gold bullion, that I plan to get my hands on. And once we get it, we won't have to worry about a goddamn thing for the rest of our lives, and we'll be richer then God himself!" - firmly.
Even as he said it, though, the wind rustling through the jungle seemed to take on a more... ominous... undertone, and a shadow seemed to pass over the jungle canopy. Frank and one of the men looked up, startled - but there was nothing there.
As the group continued, Frank approached to walk beside him.
"All the same, I suggest we unpack our guns. Just in case." - he whispered, quietly. Aidan nodded, taking off his rucksack as he walked, and pulling out two items. A sheathed machete, and a pump-action shotgun, which he slung over his shoulder.
***
SIX HOURS LATER - EARLY EVENING - DEEP JUNGLE
Despite the sun being high up on the sky, the foliage was so thick and dense, that for all intents and purposes, they were travelling through twilight. The air was becoming increasingly heady and full of moisture, impairing the already laboured breathing of the people unaccustomed to long treks through the tropical jungle. They were following the suggested GPS route, that supposedly intersected the center of the island.
Slick sweat pouring down his neck, Aidan finally called a halt.
"About time... I feel like my feet are made of lead weights..." - Kathryn muttered, finding a spot under a tree, to collapse heavily off her feet. She leaned back, splattering some water across her face, then swallowing a pair of vitamin pills. Her voice betrayed only resignation, in place of her earlier unease and hysterics. She was just too tired to care.
"This is as far as we'll go for today." - Aidan assured her, then motioned the others to break out the camping gear.
Soon enough, a kettle of mint tea was boiling over an electric cooker, and a tempting scent of prime ribs and mashed potatoes was beginning to tickle the palate. Unlike their long-lost precursors, who once subsisted here on animals they could catch, the expedition was not lacking in trappings of the modern world.
"What do you think of all those... effgys... we came across, earlier? Some kind of ritualism? To mount a corpse up like that and keep it propped, takes some serious effort." - Frank asked quietly, munching on a rib. He kept his voice down enough that Kathryn couldn't overhear - she was freaked out enough as it was.
"Maybe. Or maybe it was terror tactics... I'm pretty sure most of those were pirates. I saw some rusted blades and flintlocks. I'd say they had a huge battle right here in the jungle, probably hunting each other down over quite a period of time. What I don't get is... how are they still as well preserved as they are. I mean sure, they're rotted away, but after four centuries, I'd expect bones to be all that's left. But many of them are still... ehh..." - Aiden paused.
"Juicy?" - Frank put in, in a whisper.
"Yeah. Almost... half-mummified. Which makes zero sense, in this heat and humidity." - Aidan muttered. The two men continued eating in silence. Despite their steadfast protestations to the contrary... they couldn't help but begin to share Kathryn's view, that this place was somehow - cursed.
As the meal went on, everyone felt sleep inexorably pushing itself onto their tired minds. Was it just the jungle itself, and the grueling heat and dampness? Or was something... else... compelling them into the world of dreams?
Of nightmares?
***
The world was on fire.
At least, that was what it looked like, to the terrified faces of the five people in the expedition, as they snapped awake, to see walls of flame all around them, and hear the screams of many mixing with the howls of pain, and clashes of weapons all around. Smoke was billowing through the night skies, as the battle unfolded all around them, yet mercifully not touching them.
"Aidan! AIDAN! What's happening?!" - Kathryn screamed, stumbling through the smoke and ashes, as the spectres of long-dead pirates and slaves killed each other all around her.
"Kat?! KAT?! Where are you?!" - he yelled back, stumbling blindly towards the source of her voice. They found each other, hugging tightly.
"Must be a vision of some kind... of what happened! It can't hurt us... let's find the others!" - the man tried to sound as reassuring as possible.
"AARGHHH!" - a hulking pirate spectre rose from the ashes in front of them, advancing on the two with twin cutlasses raised above his head. Aidan reached for his pump-action, putting a shell right down the centre of mass of the shape, to no effect.
Suddenly, another shape bullrushed the first, and the two rolled away into the burning underbrush, slashing and stabbing at each other. A ragged, foul voice echoed through the inferno...
~~"Kill 'em all! ALL OF 'EM! And find that bloody undead wench! She'll be tellin' me where the gold is, 'afore I gut her!!"~~
At this voice, Aidan froze. It could only have been - his ancestor himself. At his side, he could feel Kathryn quaking in terror.
"Was that... w-was that... him? Your... y-y..." - she stuttered, eyes wide like dinner plates looking up at him. For the first time, she could see her lover's face turn - pale - in fear.
He nodded, a quick, curt gesture, trying to control his sudden shiver.
"It's him. Black Bart... Y-you know, my ol' Dad always tried to describe to me - what he sounded like... but... he aint't ever got close!" - Aidan stuttered.
"And did he say 'undead', or did I just imagine that?!" - Frank's terrified voice suddenly came from behind them, as the three other members found the two, now huddling in a tight circle in the middle of the bloody firestorm.
"No way. No fuckin' way! All those stories about Connard were just stupid tales. I-I d-don't believe that." - Aidan shook his head, sounding more like he wanted to reassure himself of that, then actually believing it.
"So how do we get out of this shit?!" - one of the men screamed, fear very audible in his tone, aiming his weapon all around, in a random pattern, at shapes and spectres appearing and disappearing around them. A few more shots were fired, but none seemed to have any effect on the illusory battle happening around them. It happened a long time ago, and they were just re-living it. Observers, in the middle of a pandemonium. Or just losing their minds.
Nobody had a good answer. But all of a sudden, the entire macabre tableau around them seemed to... slow down and pause... in time.
***
Through the smoke and fire, a female figure seemed to approach. She was tall and statuesque, but they couldn't see her face. Only a pair of red eyes, on a shadowy form of her face. She seemed as ethereal as all of the other shapes and spectres around them, yet... not a part of it all. Like a projection of someone else's mind, inserting itself into their collective dream. Perhaps - controlling it.
"There is no gold to be found here, little thieves." - the female spectre spoke, once she stopped, a dozen paces away from the group. Flames and smoke were playing across her shadowy form, yet no features could be made out, aside from those red eyes. Her voice was as distorted in shadow as her appearance, like nails across a pane of broken glass.
"WHO ARE YOU?!" - Aidan yelled angrily.
The figure laughed. A darkly musical laughter, that seemed to come from everywhere at once.
"I've been known by many names, across time. One of them, was Avelyne Connard. Lifetimes ago, a trove of gold was indeed buried on this island. My property, kept away from your ancestor's unworthy hands."
"YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT ABOUT MY ANCESTOR! HE WAS THE GREATEST PIRATE WHO EVER LIVED! AND WHAT ARE YOU? SOME SPOOK IN THE NIGHT?!" - Aidan roared angrily back, snapping up his shotgun and letting off a shot at the figure.
That musical laughter returned, with a trace of mocking undertone in it now. Clearly, his fear was easily picked up on.
When the figure spoke again, her tone was serious and intent, though.
"I am the one who tasted last, of his blood, before his end came. I am the one who took everything from him, including his life. All because he didn't know when to back off, and tried to destroy me. He let his pride override his better judgement. Don't make his mistake, Aidan. I tell you once agan, there is no gold there. I have had it buried there, only for a short while, until I could move it safely, and make use of it. There is nothing to be found on that island, but the bleached bones of the damned, the unfortunate, and the unforgiven. And perhaps, madness, for you and those that followed you on your foolish quest. Heed my advice, and leave the past, in the past. It isn't worth your lives. It wasn't even worth ours, back in the day. Not as many as were lost, on both sides."
"Are you... a-a-a... a vam---" - Kathryn managed to find her voice, but was interrupted by Aidan.
"AND I'M SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE WHAT SOME SPOOK SAYS?! YOU'RE NOT EVEN REAL! AND YOU'RE A LYING BITCH! BLACK BART DIED IN HIS SLEEP, MANY YEARS LATER! NOBODY DRANK HIS BLOOD!" - he roared in defiance.
The laughter again.
"Believe what you wish. Makes no difference to me. However, it may make a difference to those with you, and how far along into your obsession are they willing to play into. I've said what I came to say. There is no gold there. Not one bar. All of it was taken, centuries ago. Taken and used for my purposes. You can stay there and keep digging, finding naught but trinkets and bones, or you can let it go. Plus, keep in mind, I now know where you are. It's a simple matter for me to make a few phonecalls, and alert the Jamaican authorities to your... unauthorised... presence on the island. They do take their wilderness-preserve protection zones very seriously."
"If you really are who you say, we can now expose you! Whatever the hell you're supposed to be, the whole world will know you're not human! Everyone will know the true story of Avelyne Connard!" - Frank retorted angrily, but uneasily as well. His timbre wasn't nearly as bellicose.
The figure chuckled.
"Feel free. Let's just say I won't lose sleep over it. And there is a very good reason I'm not letting you see my face. Lunatics raving about pirate queens, vampires, werewolves and spooks are all too common out there, especially given recent events in Europe, and the Coalition war. Who knows, you may end up sharing the same padded cell as some of them. Consider what I've said. And make the right choice while you can. You wanted adventure? You've got one. You've even got an explanation, which is more then I've ever given anyone else. You've got an insight into what really happened there. It was a disaster, for all involved, and it cost me more then you will ever know. But there is no trove of gold to be had. Accept it."
"And Aidan... I can also show you, what happened to Bart. What I did to him. I can make you see through my eyes of memory. With your mind the way it is now, it'll break you. I don't want to do that, I've got no quarrel with you. But I do need you to let it go."
With that, the shadowy female figure seemed to dissipate through the smoke and flames, before she vanished.
***
BACK ON THE SPIRIT, FIVE HOURS LATER... STEAMING AT FLANK SPEED AWAY FROM THE ISLAND
"Is he still sedated?" - Frank asked, putting a gentle hand on Kathryn's shoulder.
She hadn't moved, or looked up, sitting by the side of her lover's bed and clutching his strangely - cold hand tightly. The expression on her face was empty, yet haunted. Finally, she spoke softly, lifting her head partially, exposing a whale of a black left eye:
"I've never seen him like that. Ever! When we even brought up leaving - h-he... I could tell from his eyes he was ready to kill us all. He - he never... HIT me before!" - a sob racked her.
Frank was silent for a long moment, his own expression hard. He himself had known his friend for years, and what he saw there in the jungle from him, after they woke up from that... whatever it was... rattled him. Homicidal rage, and obsessive fury. The two men had to physically hold him down, while he injected him with the tranquiliser. A dosage high enough to send a horse to sleep.
"Do you think it was real? What we saw in the dream? What - she - said?" - Kathryn asked quietly.
"I don't know. And I think... I think it's better we never find out." - Frank admitted heavily.
"Was she really a vampi--" - Kathryn persisted, but he cut her off, with a nervous shake of his head.
"No. Don't... don't go there. What matters now is that we figure out how to help Aidan. I just hope he's going to let go of this place, eventually. And that whatever she - showed him - in the end, didn't really break him."
"But she said she COULD! Not that she WOULD! She had no reason to! We were going to leave, goddamn it!" - the woman exploded at that.
Frank shrugged.
"Depends on how much you can trust... someone... something... like that."
"Do you trust her?" - he added.
"No... I guess not." - Kathryn admitted, wiping off her tears. In her expression now, was something deadly.
"But if she twisted my Aidan's mind like that... I don't care how. Or where. Or when. I'll make her pay for that. Real or not." - she promised softly, before lowering her head to her man's shoulder once more.
Frank sighed, not sure what to say, before making his way out of the cabin.
THE END
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