5Augh! I'm sorry this has taken so long. College just started up again and it's been hectic trying to figure out a schedule. This is also the section that I've given the least thought to, and seven books have passed since I wrote the original, so I kind of want to update it to the current storyline and the issues therein. Don't worry, I'll try my best not to list more characters than are necessary, since I know not everyone has read this series. The fact that I'm making so many changes is probably the reason it might take me a little longer to update than usual. Please bear with me.
Disclaimer Jerry Bruckheimer, J. K. Rowking, Tetsuya Nomura, and now Erin Hunter have all had their shots at me for 'sniffing' out their franchises. -sniffsniff- -sniffsniff- Oh no...
Chapter One: Let the Music Feed Your Soul
In order to travel between Realms, there must necessarily be a sort of bridge that links said Realms together. While a person from one world is in another, that link remains until they return. With the World Order already so fragile, this link would only hasten its unraveling. It needed some time to partially right itself as it naturally did before other worlds could be traversed. Nearly a month passed. Amy slumped down in Tia Dalma's shack with a sigh of relief. "Man I missed this place," she said, looking appreciatively at the jars and trinkets and junk decorating the walls, ceiling, and breathing space.
During her time away, Amy had continued to learn about her magic and how it worked via thought from her teacher. She was still incredibly tentative about doing some things—such as turning one of those clams into a rabbit (which very nearly ended badly...)—but at least the simple things were coming to her with more ease.
"Focus, child." Amy was attempting to make a fistful of sand into a glass of water. She pressed her lips together and hummed. In her mind, music was playing. In moments, she had achieved her goal. She sensed a sudden alertness from her teacher. "And now into a book." The mental soundtrack switched tunes, and she hummed again. The glass had become a great tome. Tia Dalma was quiet.
"Did I do something wrong?"
"What did you do?"
"I did as you asked, didn't I?" The girl furrowed her brow in confusion.
"Wit' yo voice."
"I dunno. Hummed a little."
"And de music in ya mind?"
"What about it?"
"Do you always do it?"
"I...I guess so. I never really thought about it."
"What was the first t'ing you made wid magic?"
"I brought a song out from inside my head."
Again Teacher was silent. Amy couldn't conceive what the big deal was, and she felt like she was about to drown in her bewilderment. But she was not to receive an answer. Tia Dalma ended their session there.
The next time they spoke was upon the girl's return to their world after a month away. Teacher strode right up to her and announced, "I know ya element." Amy blinked, perplexed. Her element? Oh yeah, that's right. Magicians each had an element that governed their powers.
"Is it meat-vision? I really hope it's meat-vision," the teen queried, stomach growling.
"Chil'," Tia said more softly, a fond smile spreading across her face—and for some reason this change of tone got the girl's attention. "Your element is music."
Pause. "...Heh?" She didn't understand. Neither did James, for that matter—his jaw jutted out in annoyance at his own confusion as he looked from one to the other.
"You are able to do t'ings as you imagine 'dem. You mus' have a song for every spell, or it will not work; but dere is little limitation to de songs you can create, an' likewise little limitation to de spells you can perform."
"How do I know what songs go with what spells?"
"Ya already know, chil'; ya been doin it from de start. It is in your nature to liken an action or an object wid a song. Complicated actions take complicated music. Simple is simple. A lion require lion music. A river require river."
James' brows came together apprehensively. "All she needs to make magic is a song? If magic could be summoned by song, why is it not more common? Why can Sparrow or I whistle for a wind and receive none?"
Teacher looked at him directly, gaze boring into him as if searching for something lying beneath the surface. He was back in his naval brocade—dirty, beginning to tatter, but a familiar comfort nonetheless. He had changed into it as soon as he heard they would not be traveling the Realms for a while. He looked a pirate again, actually, except cleaner and with a better-trimmed beard. "Ah, but sometime you get one, don't it? Why do you whistle for de wind and not sing? Why not tap ya foot? Why not sniff de salt air, fan the sails, break a ruler, scratch ya knuckles?"
"Why because sailors have always whistled for the wind."
"And why is that? It is more dan superstition. Luck is not always luck. Coincidence not always coincidence." James only ground his teeth, unable to completely wrap his head around the concepts - Amy wasn't doing much better. "Maybe one day you will understand," Tia Dalma added sympathetically.
"Has it been long enough for us to go and find another part of Jack?" the girl asked in the hopes of moving back to subjects that made sense. She was beginning to get antsy.
"Have you had any more dreams lately?" her nephew asked.
Over the past couple of weeks, Amy had been having very strange dreams—strange in that they were reoccurring, and strange in that they actually didn't make sense to her, yet were surprisingly vivid. The last time she'd had such a vivid dream, Johnny Depp had been a werewolf and she'd had to train him like a dog. She had also had to give him a Mowhawk. ...And...her dreamboy had been there. But in these dreams there was no detailed plot with subplots as her dreams were wont to go; no dreamboy; no Johnny Depp (oh wah...) She had lain in a forest, trees stretching tall all around her, branches blocking the nearly black night sky but for one large gap through which moonlight and starlight had shone on her, and she had felt warmed as though by the sun. She hadn't moved at all; merely lain on her back, gazing up at the moon and stars.
At least, that's the way the dreams had been when they first started coming. Soon, whispered voices had begun to call out to her. But they had spoken in a tongue she did not recognize, and she had been unable to understand what they said. As the dreams continued to come, night after night or close to it, she began to vaguely feel and acknowledge that she was still asleep. It was after this that she had told James and Tia Dalma. It was just too strange to ignore. "I had another one last night," she replied quietly, gazing off into space, and she proceeded to describe it in short, stuttering statements as she groped for the right words. This one had been different. She had lain on her back, listening to the distant whisperings, when a voice much nearer had 'Psst'-ed at her. She had felt an ear twitch in the direction of the sound, and had rolled onto her stomach to look around for its source. Unperturbed, she observed that she was a cat. But she did not have much time to ponder over this, for another cat stepped through the leaves of the undergrowth and bushes. Her tortoiseshell pelt glowed with starlight, but her amber eyes reassured the lass that she was no threat. Amy recognized her almost immediately. The thought I know you blared in her mind.
"Follow me," the starry she-cat instructed, turning and racing up the path through the trees, barely giving the sorceress time to jump to her feet—paws—and follow. They flashed through the forest, jumping over rocks and roots and branches, ducking through bushes and brambles, swerving to avoid tree trunks. At last, the trees thinned and they came upon the shore of a lake. The Milky Way reflected radiantly off the rippling surface of the black water. "Silverpelt watches over you just as it does our descendants," the mysterious feline told her. "This way." And they were off again, sprinting along the shore. They crossed a stream after a short while, and the shore gave way to hills and moorland. Amy vaguely recognized the change of scenery, but was more interested in the way it felt to move like a cat. She subtly acknowledged that she should be feeling tired right now, but only energy, excitement, and anticipation coursed through her muscles. Her curiosity at all the new smells and sounds, her slight disorientation at being a cat,... having a tail,... everything was so new and foreign. She pricked her ears when the lapping of water against the shore grew louder, and looked to see that the moors had ended, and the two cats had once again climbed down to the lakeside.
Amy widened her eyes, looking ahead into the dark. They were headed into the marshy territory. There was what appeared to be a finger of land stretching into the water. She narrowed her eyes, looking more closely. An island. "I know this place," she meowed in awe.
Her guide slowed to a walk and faced her. "You have traveled among us in dreams. You have followed our warriors along their paths in your own mind. We have sensed your presence. And it is for this quality that we have chosen to ask your help."
"Me?" Amy had startled.
"Do not worry. We know what you really are and it makes no difference."
"A Twolegs."
"Yes."
"But I am not the only one who has done so," Amy protested. Millions had read those books.
"Perhaps. But you are the only one who has come here."
The girl felt her ears sag. "I'm not so sure I can help, mate. I'm on a mission of my own already."
"This I know. And I may be able to help your journey along. Would you be willing to help our kind if we helped you?"
Ames thought a moment before asking smoothly, "Would you withhold that journey-helping information if I do not?"
The tortoiseshell was silent for long moments. Then, finally, "No. I am not that kind of cat."
The dreaming girl considered her for what seemed like an incredibly long time. "I'll...see what I can do to help," she said at last, voice low.
"But why?"the she-cat gaped at her surprisedly.
"Well...because you were going to give me this information regardless. The least I could do would be to try, right?"
The starlight in the she-cat's pelt glimmered a little more brightly, and a gentle purr escaped her throat. "All of StarClan thanks you, young one. Now come." She led the way at an effortless trot toward the island. A huge fallen tree served as a natural bridge from land to island. They danced across its slick surface almost as if they were floating. Continuing on toward the island's center, they finally came to a stop in the middle of a great clearing. A large, powdery blue butterfly—decorated with thin black striping—was fluttering about. Unperturbed by the would-be predators, it landed on the lass's nose, wings opening and closing a few times. "Self confidence is a fragile thing," the spirit told her. "It is time for you to wake, young one," she continued, licking the top of Amy's head as the butterfly flew off again. Already, everything seemed to dim, and the girl could feel herself trying to wake up.
"Thank you, Spottedleaf," she managed to meow, before her body began to feel more human than cat.
"As danger lurks behind every tree, an enemy shall become an ally, and the hawk will lead the way to safety," Spottedleaf meowed. These were the last words Amy heard before the dream faded into the reality of the waking world.
"And that's pretty much the way of it," Amy finished her tale.
"So were you right after all?" James enquired.
Earlier the previous week, the lass had explained that she thought the dreams reminded her of happenings in a book series she had read. "Yes. For sure. Spottedleaf spoke of StarClan, and both play significant roles in the series."
"And what about her departing words? 'The hawk knows the way to safety?'"
"Oh. The hawk. That's me."
"How do you know?"
"I took a quiz online. The name given to me was Hawkear."
"Hawkear," James repeated, gazing hard at the books piled in front of them. "What an absurd name," he murmured half to himself.
"Absurd to you, yes. But after you've read the books, you'll think otherwise." He blinked. The pile of books was, on the table, taller than she was. Did she really expect him to read two dozen books?
"Amy..."
"At least read the first book. See how you like it."
"This is another one of your obsessions, isn't it."
"Maaaybeee..." she gave him her best innocent look. "Then again, just the act of going would prolly spoil both series for you."
"We'll see. Now, what was that butterfly about?"
"Well... Spottedleaf said that self confidence was a fragile thing, and—."
"Dis is Jack Sparra's self confidence. A butterfly is a fragile t'ing. An' so 't must be ano'der manifestation," Tia Dalma cut in.
"Great! All we need to do is go capture it. It was on the Gathering island when Spottedleaf showed me."
"It's not as simple as that, dear," James countered. "Have you forgotten already that you promised this 'StarClan' that you would help with that 'prophecy'?"
"Yeah, I know. But it should be relatively easy, given my experience for working out the book prophecies long before the characters can. See? I've already got a part of it figured out."
James and Tia shared a long, contemplating look, silently debating. "Enough time have pass. You will go an' fulfill dis promise, an' return wid Jack," the mystic said at last. Norrington's gaze never left her, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.
"Great," Ames rubbed her hands together. "But, ah... one question. It's different to go into a book than it is into a video game, isn't it? I mean, we wouldn't literally go into the books, would we?"
"No, chil'. You are correct. Dese books are portal to 'nother Realm. De imagery, de feeling of the world they create—that is where you going."
"Wonderful. We just need to prepare." She opened up the latest book to a few pages adorned with maps. With a wave of her hand and tunes in her head, copies of both maps appeared in her grasp, which she pressed into James' hands. "Study up. These are two different maps of the same place, which is where we're going. One is from the cats' point of view, and the other is from people's. Keep them safe. You may need them."
"Will do, darling," he rumbled amicably. "However, might I suggest a wax coating? It will protect against damage from moisture."
"Oh, that's a good idea!" She tapped her temple. "You know so much." He disagreed - is was common sense - but said nothing, holding them out for her to tap a finger against. It was an odd sensation in the palm of his hand as the wax formed down the parchment. Once that was done, she took them from him and set them against the table. She pointed a finger at the middle of a foresty area. "This is where my dream started. We came down through here, along the lakeside... across this creek, and then into WindClan territory." Her finger traced over the moorlands. "Then through this part of RiverClan territory," she went over the marsh, "and then over the fallen-tree bridge to the island, which is where I saw the butterfly."
"Territory? WindClan? RiverClan? Amy, I'm afraid I haven't the slightest idea as to what you are talking about."
"Read the books. They'll explain everything a lot better than I can."
"Ya don' have time," Tia replied from the next room, startling them both. She leaned around the doorframe to look at them. "If self-confidence isa fragile, den ya don' have a moment to lose. Him could easily be hurt." She disappeared from sight, going back to whatever it was she was doing.
"Then I'll have to explain as best I can so we can get outta here."
"There's no time," James murmured. "I'm sure I'll adjust, so long as it isn't anything like that Kingdom of Hearts."
"Oh no," she shook her head. "Nothing as drastic as that."
"Good then. Let us leave as soon as possible."
"Right." She rolled up the maps and handed them to him; he fished a ribbon out of his pocket and tied them up. "Keep those in-hand instead of in-pocket, in case your wardrobe changes again."
"That is a good idea," he praised her. She grinned up at him, almost shying from his favor, a hand seeking his. "Imagine with me, James: A lush, deciduous woodland, just coming out of a long winter. The underbrush is gone with the frost, but it is beginning to grow back with the promise of spring. The trees stretch high above your head, and the sun filters down through the empty branches. But they will not be just branches for long. The buds of leaves are appearing. The young shoots on the ground will soon bloom into ferns and other undergrowth. It is pleasantly cool for the end of February. The birds are singing. The forest is coming back to life. Can you see it?"
"Yes," he sighed, quite enjoying the image.
She let out a breath with a nod, and concentrated. In a puff of mist, they were gone.
And so another saga begins! Hope you enjoyed, and leave a review!