Chapter 7: The Witch in the Caves

Chapter 7: The Witch in the Caves

A dank mist clung to the water as the Ranger navigated the perilous approach to Blackwater Shoal. Jagged rocks jutted above the waves like black fangs, and treacherous currents tugged at the hull. By midday, they found a narrow channel and slipped into the shallow bay at the shoal’s heart. No beach welcomed them, only a ring of barnacled rocks and the dark mouths of sea-carved caves along the limestone cliffs.

Edward stood at the bow, the astrolabe in his hand under Hornigold’s watch. The  astrolabe glowed erratically now, as if agitated. The crew murmured that the device didn’t like this place. Edward believed them; the very air felt charged with old, unfriendly magic.

Hornigold anchored in the lee of a crag. Only a small party went ashore: Hornigold, Edward, Jack, Remy, and Israel Hands. The rest willingly remained on alert aboard, cannons primed in case trouble emerged.

They rowed a skiff through eerily still waters. Dead fish floated belly-up here and there, and the rocks bore strange symbols painted in red. Jack pointed one out as they passed, a crude spiral flanked by staring eyes. “Warding signs,” she whispered. “Some island folk use them to keep evil at bay.”

“Or to invite it,” scoffed Israel Hands, not comforted.

They found a slippery foothold on a ledge near one of the larger cave openings. The rock under Edward’s boots was slimy with algae. A cold draft sighed from within, carrying the scent of rot and something medicinal, like burnt sweet wood and crushed herbs.

Hornigold held up a lantern, its flame shivering in the damp air. “Stay close. No one wanders off,” he ordered. His voice echoed softly as they entered the cavern.

The passage twisted and descended. Thin stalactites hung like witches’ teeth from the ceiling. With each step, Edward’s heart pounded harder. He had faced men, monsters, and sirens, but walking knowingly into a witch’s lair was a new found terror. He silently mouthed a prayer to any listening power that they would leave alive.

The tunnel opened into a broader chamber. Faint luminescence glowed from patches of moss on the walls, painting everything in sickly green light. At the chamber’s center stood a shallow pool of brackish water. Above it, the rock ceiling yawned open to the sky, a ragged shaft letting in a column of grey daylight.

They weren’t alone. A hunched figure stood on the far side of the pool, hooded in tattered sealskin. At the sound of their approach, the figure lifted its head.

“Welcome, travelers,” croaked a woman’s voice, surprisingly resonant. She threw back her hood, revealing a face etched with wrinkles like dried kelp and eyes clouded milky-white. The sea-witch was blind, or so it seemed.

Hornigold stepped forward boldly, though Edward saw how he kept a tight grip on his cutlass. “We seek answers, Witch of Blackwater Shoal.”

A wet chuckle echoed from her throat. “Aye, I know what you seek, Benjamin Hornigold. The astrolabe you carry has sung to me of your coming.” She raised a bony hand and, impossibly, the Devil’s astrolabe tucked in Hornigold’s belt unlatched itself and flew across the pool into her grasp.

Hornigold stiffened, anger flashing, but Remy put a cautioning hand on his shoulder. The witch ran her fingers over the astrolabe lovingly. “At long last, you return to me,” she cooed to the object. Her blank eyes shifted toward the group. “You have done well to recover this. Few have the wit and grit.”

Edward felt a prickle at the nape of his neck. The witch’s gaze, though unseeing, seemed to linger on each of them in turn. When those pale eyes swept over Edward, he thought he heard a whisper in his mind, a distant echo of his own voice, screaming. He swallowed hard.

Hornigold forced calm into his tone. “We need to find the Crown of Tides. The astrolabe leads the way, but to what end we know not. Ashcombe dealt with you. Tell us what we must do.”

The witch smiled, revealing surprisingly intact teeth, sharp and grey. “Straight to business, as ever, privateer.” She spat the last word ironically, as if amused by Hornigold’s past pretensions of legality.

She waded a step into the pool’s shallows. The water barely rippled around her bare, withered feet. “The Crown of Tides… a bauble forged by ancient hands, resting now in the City of the Deep,” she intoned. “Your astrolabe can guide you there, but the way is barred by the guardian of that city. The Leviathan.”

At that name, Edward heard Israel Hands mutter a curse. A sense of inevitability settled on Edward’s shoulders. They had all felt something stirring below in their nightmares, now given a name.

Hornigold’s face was set. “How do we get past this Leviathan?”

The witch’s lips stretched in a slow grin. “You don’t, foolish man. Not by strength alone. Many a ship has fed the Leviathan’s endless hunger. It cannot be slain, only placated, or outwitted… or possibly bound.”

She turned her head toward Jack suddenly. “Unless one among you carries a token of the old sea.”

Jack stiffened. “I, I don’t understand.”

The witch inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring as if scenting something on the air. “Blood and brine… a child of two worlds. Curious.” A knowing smirk tugged at her mouth. “No matter. Another time perhaps.”

Edward’s hand twitched near his dagger. Did the witch sense Jack’s secret? Jack’s eyes were wide, but she held her tongue.

Hornigold grew impatient. “So we must placate this Leviathan? How?”

The witch caressed the astrolabe, and its glow gleamed brighter. “A sacrifice.” Her blind eyes rolled toward Edward now, pinning onto him without sight. “The Deep will demand a life. One soul given for passage.”

A cold dread washed over Edward. The Price of the Deep, Cross had warned them. Someone would have to die. His mind raced: would Hornigold do such a thing? Sacrifice a crewmate like a pawn?

Remy growled, “There must be another way.”

The witch only cackled softly. “The sea is generous and cruel in turn. If you seek its greatest prize, you pay its greatest price. This is the law older than empires.” Her voice reverberated strangely, as if others spoke with her in unison.

Hornigold squared his shoulders. “And if we accept this price… you will show us the path to the crown?”

The witch nodded. “I shall unlock the astrolabe fully. It will lead you through the veil into the City of the Deep when the time comes.” She trailed a claw-like fingertip in the pool. “But heed me: when the Leviathan rises, choose your tribute swiftly… or it will take what it pleases.”

A long silence fell, broken only by the drip of water from the stalactites. Hornigold’s crew exchanged uneasy looks. Sacrifice one of their own? None dared to voice the question, but it hung heavy.

Hornigold finally spoke, voice tight. “Do it.”

The sea-witch’s grin returned, warped and hungry. She beckoned Edward forward. “You, boy. You hold the astrolabe in your heart as much as your hand. Step to the water.”

Edward found himself stepping to the pool’s edge, heart hammering. He glanced at Hornigold, who gave a curt nod. Jack looked anxious, and Israel Hands scowled as if ready to snatch Edward back. But Edward took one more step, his dark tan boots splashing into the frigid water.

The witch reached out and quickly snatched Edward’s wrist with surprising strength yanking him close. Her touch was icy and made his skin crawl. Her breath of stale wine. “A drop of blood freely given,” she whispered, “to bind the bargain.”

From within her ragged sleeve she produced a small barnacle-encrusted knife. Before Edward could react, she pricked his palm. He winced as blood welled up crimson. The witch guided his hand over the astrolabe; three drops of blood pattered onto its face and sizzled there.

The astrolabe pulsed and crackled, then stilled, glyphs shifted in one direction. The witch released Edward and he stumbled back, cradling his bleeding hand.

“And so it is,” the witch hissed. She set the Devil’s astrolabe afloat upon the pool’s surface. Miraculously, it did not sink, but instead drifted toward Edward. He caught it reflexively, water dripping from its sides. It shone strangely bright now.

Hornigold let out a breath. “The way is set with him now?”

“Yes,” crooned the witch. “Follow the astrolabe. When the moon is swallowed by shadow, on the night of the coming new moon, the path to the City of the Deep will open, and be warned! The Leviathan shall willingly wake.”

Remy grimaced. “That’s barely a week hence.”

The witch tilted her head, listening to something beyond their hearing. “Time ebbs and flows. The crown stirs. You must be ready.” Her blind gaze then fixed somewhere above their heads. “Beware, sailors… treachery and sorrow await on your journey. The lines of fate tangle like weeds. One of you walks with a foot in two worlds; one of you will turn from friend to fiend; one of you will drown in regret.”

Her prophecy chilled Edward more than the cave’s air. Jack looked down, concealing her face. Israel Hands exchanged a nervous frown with Remy at “friend to fiend,” clearly suspecting each other or others of betrayal. Hornigold remained stone-faced.

Hornigold bowed stiffly to the witch. “We thank you. Our bargain will be kept.”

“I know it will,” the witch said with a dark smile. “The sea will see to that.”

With nothing more to ask, and no stomach to linger, they backed out of the chamber. The witch watched them with that eerie blind stare, lips moving silently in some unknown language.

As they turned down the passage, a final whisper slithered through the air, echoing off the stone: “Good luck, Blackbeard.”

Edward whipped around, mouth slightly agape. But the chamber behind was empty; the witch was gone as if she’d never been. Only the smallest ripple in the pool’s water proved she had stood there.

Blackbeard. The name sent a jolt through Edward. How could she know the mocking nickname some sailors in Bristol had flung at him for his dark gruff hair unshaven? He felt Jack’s hand on his shoulder, steadying him. He hadn’t realized he was trembling.

Outside the cave, the grey daylight felt like a baptism. The five of them sucked in lungfuls of fresh salt air. No one spoke at first as they climbed back into the skiff.

Hornigold broke the silence. “We have what we came for.” He held up the astrolabe, now returned to his grip, Edward’s drying blood flecked on its glass. It was shown surely to death, steady as the North Star.

Remy’s face was drawn. “At the cost of a curse, perhaps.”

Jack, pale but composed, spoke softly, “She named a price. We’ll have to face it when the time comes.”

Hornigold looked over the faces of his crew, a spark of grim determination lighting his eyes. “Whatever comes, Leviathan, curse, betrayal, we’ll face it together. No witch can decide our fate.”

Israel Hands managed a crooked grin, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Aye. She’s not sailing with us, mighty we are.”

They rowed back to the Ranger in silence, each lost deeply in thought. Edward flexed his pricked palm, still feeling the sting of the blade. Blackbeard… The witch’s parting word rang loudly in his ears. He wasn’t sure if he found it thrilling or terrifying. Perhaps both.

As the crew weighed anchor and the Ranger once more took to the open sea, Hornigold called the senior crew to share a tempered version of events. He announced that the astrolabe would lead them to their prize soon, and that a great beast might guard it. He didn’t mention the needed sacrifice explicitly, only that danger was certain and every man must be prepared to give all for victory. The crew responded with a resounding cheer, eager for glory and plunder, not fully grasping the shadow of doom now following in their wake.

High on the stern, Edward stood beside Jack, watching the waves churn pale green over the shoals as they departed. Neither had spoken since the cave. At last Jack said under her breath, “She knew.”

Edward nodded. “About you? I think so. About many things.”

Jack pulled her coat tighter against a chill. “Do you trust what she said?”

“I don’t know,” Edward admitted. The promise of betrayal gnawed at him. He could not imagine any of his newfound brothers turning fiend, yet the witch had been frighteningly knowledgeable.

Jack touched Edwards hand. “If anyone does try to betray us… they’ll have to get through us first.”

A small, fierce smile touched Edward’s lips. “Aye.”

They watched Blackwater Shoal recede into a dark smudge on the horizon. The day slowly brightened, but gloom clung to the crew as whispers of the sea-witch’s cave spread among them despite Hornigold’s careful words. Fear and hope and greed swirled in equal measure.

The next stage of their journey beckoned, the Leviathan’s lair and the Crown of Tides beyond it. The witch had given them a path, and perhaps sealed their unknown fates.

He closed his eyes and offered a silent vow to the restless sea: that he would see his friends through whatever storm was coming. The witch’s prophecy would not break them. If blood must be paid, he prayed it would be his own rather than someone he loved.

The wind filled the sails, and the Ranger surged onward. Behind them, unseen, the mist closed over Blackwater Shoal once more, and a distant echo of laughter chased them out to open water.