“I cannot fault you. I am glad you finally told Vidar, even if I wish you’d come to me. I’ve seen you changing. Becoming more fearful. It frightens me that a woman like you has found something so terrifying.” She turned to me, taking my hand. “Let us destroy both our fears. Together. Like always.”
I nodded, withholding the fact that part of my fear was that she would perish in our efforts. But it had been a strange day. I didn’t want to bring more strife into the situation yet.
“Alright, men!” Vidar’s voice roared over the wind, demanding everyone’s full attention. “Maddox. Butcher. Start lowering the sails.”
Gradually, the men began toying with the rigging. Finally, the massive main sail unrolled like a great, giant bird spreading its wings. The crew cheered and hollered and one by one, the rest of the sails unfolded, catching the wind. Vidar jogged up to the helm, a smile on his face, and took the wheel.
Staring straight up at the new, ghostly white sails above felt like glimpsing into a terrifying yet world-altering future. One that would end in destruction or victory. Either way, a nightmare awaited and that ship would be our mount to carry us through.
The wood creaked and moaned around us as the ship lurched forward with the wind toward the open ocean once more. Slowly, the men dispersed to do their various jobs. At the helm, Gus was talking to Vidar about something and when he left, I walked up the steps to his side, always too eager to be close to him.
“She’s moving fast,” Vidar commented. “She’ll always have that, no matter the color of her sails.”
“Strange that this ship I hated for so long is now a haven of sorts,” I said. “She needs a new name, does she not?”
“Aye. She does.”
I stared up at her sails again, watching them grab the wind like greedy hands.
“The Storm Weaver,” I said.
“The Storm Weaver. I like that.”
“You cannot stop a storm,” I said, quoting words we’d exchanged before.
“And we are the storm,” he added, the corner of his mouth curling into the devilish smirk I’d come to love so much.
“So? What’s the plan then, captain?”
“Dornwich. There’s someone there we might need.”
“James’s sister? Why would we need her?”
“She’s a blacksmith.” He patted the hilt of the bronze cutlass that always hung on his hip. “Her mentor made Lady Mary.”
“You want her to smith more bronze weapons for your crew.”
“Aye. We’ll need them. And since my last blacksmith died in that little mutiny up north, she can fill in.”
“It sounds like Dornwich is a dangerous place if they’re trying to sell sirens. And did Nazario not mention that your face is hung all over that place? You’re a wanted man, remember?”
He emptied his lungs with a groan. “I am not worried about a few posters with a handsomely accurate sketch of my face on them. We’ll be careful. And we’ll get answers, right?”
“Yes,” I nodded. “We’ll get answers.”
“Into the tempest!”
They shouted, diving through the squall
Rather than fighting against it.
~Diary Richard Williams II
It was midday before Vidar called the crew to the upper deck again. The ship was sailing with renewed speed and eagerness like a few days' rest and new sails truly did reinvigorate her. Billy took the helm in the calm winds and I suspected Vidar let him just to excite the boy. He’d been working in the kitchens with Boil since before I joined the crew. He could use the fresh air.
Everyone gathered on deck, eagerly waiting for Vidar’s next big announcement. By that point, we were too far out to sea to take anyone back to shore if they suddenly changed their mind about being a part of our journey.
“So?” someone spoke up. “Where we heading next, cap’n?”
