Winds of Fate [Books IV - VI]

Chapter 162: First Victory

The Flying Dutchman
Between the Realms

Knelt on the floorboards, Hendrik Van Der Decken hangs his head, unable to look at the relic beating and beating away in Caterina Rivera's hands. No one dares take it, however, and the crewmembers even part to let her pass.

"Mija? Perdon..." Caterina tentatively steps closer to the captain. She wearily glances at the sea around them, too quiet for comfort. "Mija. Van Der Decken. Let us separate you two now."

Hendrik folds and looks up at her, blinking as he tries to hear her words. "Oh. Oh, of course." He stretches out a hand toward the blackened heart, closer and closer, his form strengthens, and the grime of the ship pools at his feet, weaving his bones, his flesh—those white strings melding to become fat and skin. The one man who never truly died that night on the ship, the magic brings the life the curse stole back.

And Van Der Decken takes his first step anew on the deck.

When the last wisp of his soul leaves, Eleanore shivers as the rider took a form of his own. She lists backward, and Mama shoves the heart in the captain's hand, embracing her and saving her head from the fall. "Elena, are you alright?"

~*~

Van Der Decken has his black heart in his trembling hands. He stares at it, unable to face the men who had suffered nigh a century of its blight. How cruel. Now, it all just feels useless. Here is his heart, but he could not find a way to begin. It is far better to die; far more cowardly as well, but then, he'll not be able to hurt them even more by his foolishness.

No one dares talk. He glances behind. The girl has sat up. So that was her mother. And the mother is already dead. There is no resemblance between them, except for the black hair and dark eyes. Eleanore is trying to take a breath, and cannot truly look at the crew. Still, Van Der Decken weakly smiles. She had no real magic, only allies, and even then, they are few. One would wonder how she could win.

But if a young girl has hope...

This is the least I could do.

"Reiger."

He still does not look at them. The ship groans as the sea gently carries them away.

Hendrik closes his eyes. "I am not worthy... to become your captain once more, that I know." He presses his lips tight. "That... that night... and the other one—"

~*~

Mama narrows her eyes and embraces Eleanore closer to her chest. Her heart has calmed down, but the world still tilts every now and then. Other one? She tries to peer at the crew, at Fritzl.

Fritzl has clenched his bony hands into fists beside him.

"I..." Hendrik continues, voice trembling. "The moment, the Devil tossed my heart away." He carefully glances aside. "When he found another captain to deceive..."

I miss you, Anton. Eleanore lowers her eyes, only thankful that Mama doesn't catch on to that.

"I... I sought this... salvation... the Devil is against. The one he has thwarted, destroyed, before she could even take a step on a ship."

She and Mama look at each other. The Dutchman's crew wearily glance at themselves as well, and Fritzl keeps silent, although he glances at her.