Born Of The Sea

On the morning of the 5th day they found it. The temple was a monstrous structure of black stone, half devoured by the jungle.

Its walls were covered with strange carvings, a language they could not read but the images were clear enough.

They depicted a powerful goddess, a figure with wide hips and heavy breasts, who ruled the land. Every image of her was accompanied by a young virile god of the hunt and the vine.

Who was this goddess and the young man by her side?

The story unfolded in the stone panels as they made their way further into the compound. First, the goddess and the god stood together.

Then, they were confronted by a terrifying figure: a great, 12 headed beast with multiple arms, a brutal god with a symbol that looked like the wheel of time carved in his chest. He always seemed to wield clouds and the stars in his depictions.

Perhaps he was the god of the sky for whomever built this temple.

In one of the panels it depicts the goddess giving birth to the younger god, while the beast hurled a lightning bolt at them.

As they approached what seemed like a stone, the antechamber the carving depicted the mother and the son, now an adult god fighting side-by-side against him.

The final panels showed them standing triumphant over the defeated beast, and then, in the most shocking images, they were shown as lovers, their bodies entwined, ruling the cosmos as king and queen.

Isabella and Elias stood in the central chamber, their torchlight flickering over the explicit stone carvings.

They couldn't read the words, but the story was unmistakable. It was a myth of a mother and son who defied the world, who found love in each other's arms and forged a new order from their forbidden union.

They looked at the carvings, and then they looked at each other, the scandalous feelings that had been growing between them now staring back from the ancient stone. The jungle, the danger, and the treasure all faded away in their memory leaving only the two of them, and a story that felt terrifyingly similar to their own.

Beneath the crumbling altar in the center of the room illuminated by the sunlight peaking through cracks in the walls and ceilings, they found a trap door. It led to what looked like an inner-priestly sanctum.

It lay empty save for burned incense and torches and votive offerings to a sculpture of the two incestuous lovers holding a massive ruby hanging from an ornate golden chain.

The jewel pulsed with a faint, inner light. As Elias lifted it from its stone pedestal, the jungle erupted with the sound of war cries.

Was it the hostile tribe that they had been careful to avoid all the way here? They had been discovered. They fled the temple, the heavy ruby in Elias's pack, with an angry tribe in hot pursuit.

Their escape was desperate, a mad dash back the way they'd come. They ran through thorns and mud, the sounds of drums and shouts chasing them through the silver-lit jungle.

They were lost, exhausted, and on the verge of collapse when they smelled the scent of cooked fish. They stumbled into a nearly abandoned village where a single small shack was shown with a light burning in the window.

Desperate to get inside, they crawled through the cloth curtain covering the entrance. Inside was a warm, sweet smelling home decorated with weavings and bobbles, colorful  earthenware jugs, there was a small hearth in the center of the hut and a pot of some stew cooking on the fire. In the far side of it was an altar to the goddess and her son, and stood in front of the holy place was a small middle-aged man and an old woman.

They wore colorful cloth red and teal with intricate stitching all throughout the fabric. They both had tattooed a large red strip through the center of their faces covering their eyebrows to their mouths. The old woman had elaborate jade earrings and the man had obsidian earrings. Elias put his hand on the hilt of his cutlass, though Isabella put her hand on his to stop him from drawing. The woman and man said in almost perfect English together like one voice "Eat, you must be hungry". Perhaps the Mother and son should have been more cautious but strangely they trusted the two. As they ate, the old woman, who introduced herself as T'Lala, watched them. She seemed to know something about them, or at least that's what her eyes seemed to say.

"You stole from the Temple of the Mother," she said, Isabella was shocked, she'd said it matter of fact, not as an accusation and more as a statement. She looked at Elias directly and said, "The ruby you carry is sacred to her."

Isabella and Elias exchanged surprised looks. "Who do you mean Her?," Elias asked, knowing the answer but afraid to say it.

The man in a low voice tinged with the accent of his native language said  "The great mother goddess of the earth barer of the king of the Maze stock," he said her name but Isabella and Elias couldn't pronounce them so in their minds they were called Mother Goddess and Husband of His Mother the God of Maze. "The carvings in the temple... the story of the goddess and her son," Isabella began, her voice hesitant. "It's... unsettling."

T'Lala smiled, a wrinkled, knowing expression. "It was your destiny to find it," she said, her voice resonating with an ancient power. "No outsider has ever been able to find the treasure of the goddess. Only a mother and son are worthy to possess it, to become the high priestess and high priest of the goddess and her consort. Their love will make them great, and it will sustain the world."

Isabella stared at her, disbelief warring with a dawning horror. "You're saying we should worship a goddess who fucks her own son? That's crazy! How could a mother and... her own son... like that?" Said Isabella struggling to complete her thoughts.

T'Lala and Gesh just looked at them, their expressions calm and knowing. "You may deny your love for him in the light of day," T'Lala said softly, her gaze fixed on Isabella. "But the goddess and her god know the truth in your hearts, eventually, so will you."

The man and woman let them sleep in the village until the morning. That night, a chill settled over the jungle, and Isabella and Elias lay in the same small shack, huddled close to a crackling fire for warmth.

They fell into an exhausted sleep, and in their dreams, they were on the high seas aboard The Sea Serpent. A great storm, a monster of wind and waves, rose up to devour them. But they fought it together, their movements perfectly in sync, shared will a shield against the fury.

As the last wave crashed over the bow, the sea calmed and they stood together, breathless and triumphant. The stars a canopy of stars above them making various mythological beasts and gods in their arrangements.  He turned her to face him, and in the dream, there was no taboo, no doubt. He kissed her, and she kissed him back, a passionate, desperate joining of their lips.

Their breaths combined and their tongues tasted each other's mouths.

They made love there, on the prow of the ship. He lifted her in his strong arms, lying her on the gun-deck.

She couldn't help but give into this man, product of her husband's love for her, her flesh and blood wrapped his enormous hands around her tits, pulling her blouse away freeing them to the chill salt air.

His eyes bored into them. They had been the most important fixture in his life for years. They'd fed him and comforted him when he cried and as a teenager they'd been the objects of his boyish longing. He parted his lips and brought them down slowly toward her soft pinkish-brown nipples.

Taking the first one in his mouth he tasted the salt from her sweat and his tongue traveled over every wrinkle, every bump before he opened his mouth wide and nearly swallowed half of her tit. He let that one go and it fell heavily to her side, he whispers to her as he looks up,

"Mummy, I've always dreamed of tasting you like this, the memory of your smile and your voice and your tits kept me alive in prison". She stared down at him, her eyes locking with his, "They're not tits, your whores in those brothels have tits, I'm your mother."

He smiled up at her and asked "what's the difference mummy?" She pinched his ear like she used to when he misbehaved "These fed you when you cried, these I grew large and soft special for you my son" she said, wild lust in her voice he dived down to the next one and she opened her legs for him.

His hand traveled down her thigh towards her womanhood, the place she pushed him out kicking and screaming all of those years ago.

He tilted his head back just as his red tongue flickered her areola slowly and said "I'll just call them mine then" Isabella cooed like a bird as his hot wet mouth engulfed her breasts. Just as he positioned himself between her thighs it seemed as though every star in the sky was watching with anticipation but they both woke with a start, the first light of dawn filtering through the shack's walls.

They were tangled together, his hands cupping the heavy weight of her breasts, her legs wrapped around his waist. Their faces were so close they could taste each other's breath. They froze, shame came flooding in and the reality of their situation clashed with the vivid memory of the dream.

They pulled away from each other as if struck, a jolt of pure electricity passing between them.

"Did you...?" Elias began, his voice hoarse.

"I dreamed," Isabella said, her heart hammering against her ribs. "About a storm. A strange nightmare."

He nodded, his eyes wide. "The same. Just a nightmare." They didn't speak of the love, the passion, the consummation that had felt more real than the waking world.

They ate in silence with T'Lala and Gesh, their thanks mumbled and their eyes averted. As soon as the sun was fully up, they mumbled their goodbyes and fled the village, heading back to the jolly boat and the ship, the weight of the ruby in Elias's pack nothing compared to the weight of the shared dream that had driven a wedge between them.

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The journey back to the ship was a silent, agonizing affair. The jolly boat sliced through the water, but the easy camaraderie they'd shared on the way out was gone, replaced by a thick, suffocating tension.

The dream hung over them like a shroud. Isabella kept her eyes fixed on the horizon, the memory of her son's hands on her breasts, his body moving against hers in the dream, making her flush and red.

Elias stared at his hands, the phantom feeling of his mother's legs wrapped around him, the taste of her mouth on his lips, a tormenting echo of a pleasure he'd come so close to feeling, and yet had run away from. They both didn't speak, the rhythmic splash of the oars was the only sound between them.

The jolly-boat rounded the headland and revealed the port and a cold dread seized Isabella's heart.

The Sea Serpent was still at anchor, but the British flag, the bold and brutal Union Jack, flew from her main-mast.

A third ship, a massive ship-of-the-line with two rows of menacing cannon ports, moored beside her like a shark guarding a fresh kill. It was HMS Leviathan. She was the flagship of Admiral Thorne, a merciless pirate hunter who had been on their trail for over a year.

"Row hard," Isabella growled. Last night's turmoil burned away and forgotten by the icy fire and will of The Scarlet Harpy she would never lose her ship to the British bastards!

They slipped into the port under the cover of the fishing boats, their small craft unnoticed. The docks were swarming with British Royal Marines, red coats and muskets at the ready.

Isabella and Elias melted into the shadows of an alleyway. "They've taken the ship," Elias whispered, his brow furrowed, his eyes grim.

"And the crew," Isabella added, her eyes scanning the port, her hand ready on her musket. She saw a group of her men, shackled and being herded towards the fort overlooking the harbor. "They're not going to be ransomed. Thorne doesn't ransom. He hangs pirates."

They watched as their crew, their family, was locked away. despair was a luxury she couldn't afford. "We need information," Isabella said, her mind already working, sliding easily back into her role as a captain and a warrior. "And we need allies."

They moved through the back alleys,  moving at speed to "The Siren's Call," a tavern known for its disdain of the British Navy.

Smoke filled the air inside the place. Isabella kept her head down, her tri-corner hat pulled low, hoping to keep a low profile but Barley the Bartender recognized her and slid two mugs of rum towards them without a word.

"Admiral Thorne's got your crew, Cap'n," said Barley, his voice low. "He's plannin a public hangin the crack of the suns ass over that ocean. A message to every island in the sea."

Isabella's blood ran cold. "Any idea of how many men he has under his command? How many did he pick up at the fort?"

"Two hunerd marines," Barley grunted. "The Leviathan has another five hunerd. The fort's cannons are manned and aimed at the harbor." Barley leaned back and frowned, "I 'spect he thinks you'll mount a rescue attempt."

Elias slammed his fist on the table, making the mugs jump. "We can't just let them hang!"

"No," Isabella agreed, her mind racing. A frontal assault was suicide. They needed a diversion. They needed chaos. She looked at her son, at the fierce, desperate love in his eyes, and a reckless, audacious plan began to form. It was a plan born of desperation, a plan that required a bond deeper than captain and first mate, a trust that defied all reason.

"Barley Corn," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I need you to gather every disgruntled soul, every mean son of a bitch every tough s nails pirate with a grudge against the Crown you can find. Tell them Isabella Vance is paying in gold for one night of work. We're going to start a fire."

As the old bartender slipped away to spread the word, Isabella turned to Elias, the space between them charged with a new, dangerous purpose. The dream was still fresh in her mind. The tension, the forbidden feelings all coalesced into this single, desperate moment. "This will be the fight of our lives my little Gingerbread Boy," she said, her hand covering his on the table.

Hearing her call him, his heart aches. He cursed the consequences and tested his hand on her face.

His touch was tender, she squeezed his hand and let her hand drift up to his chest roving over his body, she whispered to him, You're not my little boy any more Ginger Bread, you left me and came back a man," her eyes searched his for a clue on what to do next.

Her touch had ceased to be maternal; it became a caress. He smiled at her. She continued, "Sometimes I look at you and I miss my little boy... but right now, right now I need a man," her voice cracked and trailed off at that last word.

He leaned in slowly grabbing her arm and pulling her close enough to smell her breath.

Elias's hand trailed down her cheek to her neck and then on to her chest. His palm roving over her right breast.

It was so brazen, so confident that she'd forgotten to stop him.

He pulled her closer so that their mouths were close enough to taste each other's words as they spoke.

"I'm with you," he said, his voice steady, his gaze locked on hers. "Always."

In that moment, as her nether-lips became slick and her insides began to warm just looking into his eyes, Isabella remembered the old woman's words. Their love will make them great.

She didn't understand it or know what to call it, but she knew that the bond they shared, this forbidden, powerful connection, was the only weapon they had left.

She would wield it to save her crew, or die trying.

She stood up and walked away before she did anything she would regret.

The tavern was a hive of whispers, sideways glances and hushed conspiracies.

By midnight, Barley Corn had gathered a grim assortment of thieves, murderers and highwaymen: a dozen disgruntled buccaneers, a smuggler with a fast sloop, and a French mercenary Reneau, with love for hearing himself talk and a grudge against the British Crown.

Isabella briefed them on her plan, her voice low and sharp. It was pure chaos, a pirate's gambit against the rigid discipline of the Royal Navy.

"The Limeys expect a frontal assault," she explained, tracing a map in the spilled rum on the table.

"They'll be watching the fort, and the docks. We won't give em what they expect." She looked at the smuggler. "Your sloop will create a diversion on the far side of the harbor.

Set fire to the old fishing pier. Make it look like a full-scale raid. Draw the marines away."

Then she turned to the Frenchman.

"Your men will sneak along the waterfront and cut the anchor lines on the Leviathan. When the tide turns, she'll swing broadside, blocking her own cannons, creating panic." She looked at Elias, and the air between them crackled. "While they're chasing banshees over there, we go over the wall of the fort and get our people."

The plan could very well prove to be suicide, but it was their only chance.

Isabella went over the plan again in French and Spanish for those who couldn't speak good English, she motioned for Elias to pay the mercenaries half up front and assured them they would get the other half when they completed the plan.

It was almost the last of their gold from that raid almost 2 weeks ago but they'd find more as long as she could get her crew and her ship back.

Under the cover of darkness they moved. The fishing pier erupted in a spectacular blaze, the flames licking at the night sky. As she'd predicted, a large contingent of marines rushed towards the fire, their drums beating a frantic rhythm. Across the harbor, there was a chorus of shouts and splintering wood as the Leviathan began to drift, her crew scrambling to control the massive warship.

"Now!" Isabella whispered.

She and Elias, along with the buccaneers, scaled the seaweed-slicked wall of the fort,  dropped into the courtyard, and drew their arms. The few guards left behind were caught by surprise and quickly overwhelmed. They found the crew in a makeshift cell, a dozen of their most loyal men, including their quartermaster, a one-eyed black giant named Benjamin.

"Cap'n!" Big Ben roared, a grin splitting revealing his sharpened teeth. "We knew you wouldn't leave us to swing!"

"I've missed you my friend you haven't gone soft after this little vacation have you," Isabella jibed. He laughed and slapped his belly, "Ole Ben aint never been soft except after that 6th shot of whiskey! Har Har!" He chortled. "Good Isabella said, We're getting out of here now!"

But as they fled towards the docks, a horn pierced the night air from the fort's main gate. The diversion hadn't been big enough it seemed. A troop of marines, staying behind led by a stern-faced officer, had spotted them. "There they are! The Vance woman and her whelp! Take them alive!"

Their daring escape had quickly devolved into a desperate running battle through the narrow, cobblestone streets. They were outnumbered and hopelessly outgunned. A musket ball tore through one of the Spanish mercenaries' chest and another through the right eye of a Frenchman; he went down like a wet sack of clothes.

They were cornered in a dead-end alley, the redcoats advancing, their bayonets gleaming in the moonlight.

Isabella's heart hammered. This was it. She looked at Elias, defiance and fury still in his eyes, and a strange calm settled over her. They would die together.

But then, a new sound pierced the air. A wild, primal war cry that seemed to come from the jungle itself.

From the rooftops and alleyways, shadowy figures emerged, Barley Corn's men, and more! Local fighters who hated the British as much as they did had arrived.