The WindFlyer

Chapter 24

Captain Astoria's PoV

I head up to my bedroom to throw some clothes together. I don't know how long I will be at sea nor do I know how long it will be until I can properly wash my clothes. I have to resist the urge to bring every piece of clothing I own. The door opens softly as Amma walks in. She throws herself on my bed with an over dramatic sigh.

"Do you have to go?" She whines, propping her head up with one of my pillows.

"You know I do," I reply, folding a shirt and placing it in the pile. "You could come with me, if you wanted to, you know."

Amma crinkles her nose slightly at the suggestion. "I hate sailing," she says while sticking her tongue out like a child who has tastes something they hate. "Besides, who would watch over your house with me gone?" I laugh at her and shake my head.

"More like who will drink my alcohol and spend my money while I'm gone," I say, teasing her. Amma laughs a little, but I can tell it's forced.

"Will this city ever be enough, Astoria? Can you ever find love here, could you ever settle down and raise a family?" She muses, her eyes fluttering shut. A brush of air hisses out between my lips as I place my hands on my hips. The same treatment every time I leave. The same questions.

"Amma," I say in a chiding tone, "I love this city with every fiber of my being. It can be enough, it is enough, but the sea holds my heart. I'm happiest rolling with the waves with salty wind in my hair. And a family? I'm barely twenty two! I have years ahead of me to do all that. Maybe someday I'll hang up the captain's coat, but I still want adventure."

She groans and rolls over, "I know," she says, rubbing her face, "just, come back, ok?" Her tone turns worried as she bites her lip and stares at the ceiling. I sit down on the edge of the bed beside her and give her a loving smile. Picking up her hand, I kiss the back of it. Her worry warms my heart.

"I always do," I whisper before standing back up and stuffing the clothes in the bag. Grabbing the bag and slinging it over my shoulder I take one last look around the room. With a soft smile, I turn and go. I walk down the hall and stairs to the front closet. The door opens on smooth hinges and I reach in. My fingers brush over several coats, but none feeling as good as the one now in my hands. I pull the blue captain's coat from its hanger and throw it over my shoulders. Relishing the feeling as it slides down my arms. A shiver raced up my spine in delight. I then grab my three point, black hat rimmed with red and slowly lower it onto my head. A crown of my own making. "Oh, I've missed you," I purr softly.

"I hope you mean me or this would be terribly awkward," Draen coughs behind me. I whirl around, slightly embarrassed. Draen has a bag similar to my own resting on his shoulder.

"Oh no, I meant my coat," I say smirking slightly. The prince laughs and shakes his head at me.

"You would," He pauses now. "I hope you don't mind I took the liberty to--"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "Of course, I would hope that you aren't content to sit in your own filth," I breeze. He narrows his eyes at me and I am forced to clamp down on a smile threatening to break open on my face. I turn away and motion for him to follow as I exit my house. The door shuts softly and I look back up at the second story, I see Amma standing in the window. She raises her hand in farewell. I mimic the gesture. The curtain falls back into place and Amma is cut off from my view. She never did like to see me go and she never came to see us off. She says it's because the salt does terrible things to her hair, but I think it's because she doesn't want anyone to see her crying.

I take up a quick pace through the city. It is rather quiet today, not a surprise. The city always seems quieter when we leave, as if the people here hate to see us go. I hum a little tune to myself, one I can't place where it came from. The smell of fresh baked bread tantalizes my senses as we come to a small street stand. I toss the baker a coin and grab a loaf of bread. I break it over my knee and hand half to Draen as we walk on. The bread is still warm in my hands.

There is almost a spring in my steps as I walk, my heart skipping a beat when the first signs of the dock come into view. There is a small group of people standing there, watching as Draen and I walk down the slight slope. The crew nods to me as I approach and I give them a curt one of my own. Confusion crosses a few faces upon seeing the prince trailing behind me, but no one questions me. No one ever questions me.

"To the ship!" I yell at them. A carnal sort of cheer is ripped from the crew. The families of the crew that have come to see them off give them one last parting hug, tears in some of their eyes. Andreas kisses his wife passionately before leading the way up the gangplank. I watch his wife turn away with a stray tear running out of her eyes. I give her a kind smile as the rest of the crew walks up to the ship. It's like a wave of energy have crashed over them.

The thing about people who live on land is that they don't understand what it is to miss the sea. To feel like every step taken on land is somehow missing something. The absence of rocking below your feet, the lack of billowing wind, the silence of the land where no creaking of wood or snapping of sails happens. They can experience it, but they don't really understand it. They don't really hear the song of the sea.

But the pirates, my crew, they know. Sure, we can be happy on land. We can be satisfied in the city and with the people we love. But we can never stay for long before she calls us. Before she haunts us and beckons. Our hearts beating in time with the waves against the shore. So we can be happy and we can be satisfied, but we can't be content.

I march up the gangplank after my crew is all aboard, tradition always having me be the last one up. The shouts start, calling for knots and ropes and beginning to raise anchor. The moment my boots hit the mahogany deck I am in motion, barking orders, directing actions, being a captain. It's like slipping into a worn pair of shoes.

My boots echo softly, I walk up the stairs to the helm of the ship. Sam scurries up the mast to his lookout position, I face the wheel. The three main sails snap open, my hands wrap around the pegs. The WindFlyer pulls away from the dock and the city, a smile tugs at my lips -- my hat casts a shadow over my face so that the only thing visible is that faint smile I now wear.

I take a compass out of my pocket and adjust our corse accordingly to head for Roltem. It should take near ten days, maybe eight if we keep on the most direct path. Do I want to go to Roltem? No. If I never had to go there again it would still be too soon. But personal hatred aside, it is the slave capital of the archipelago. I want to ruin that empire. I want to save as many people as I can. I want to get them out. I can do the most good starting there, even if it takes every ounce of restraint I have to keep from storming the castle and killing my father. To keep from toppling the blood throne and burning it all to ashes. My grip tightens on the wheel.

The prince leans against the railing in silence, simply watching. I wonder if he has ever been content on land. I wonder if he notices the absences like I do. I wonder if he understands.

I glance over my shoulder periodically, watching as Oneiro gets smaller and smaller, becoming just a dot on the horizon, until it disappears from view completely. Until the island no longer exists, just like it does not exist to Stramtor, just like it will never exist to them. I'll never sell them out. I'll protect them to my dying breath, because if I don't help the forgotten...

Who will?