Winds of Fate [Books IV - VI]

Chapter 167: Uncharted Waters (Part One)

The Flying Dutchman
The In-Between
Present Day (?)

Freed from the Sea-Devil's clutches, the Dutchman sails in-between the World of the Living and the World of the Dead. Her mission: to break the chains that bind her with so many others. Captain Van Der Decken, refusing to take command in light of his atrocities, remain by the side of the new captain instead, Heer Fritzl, whom Eleanore learns is the boyish name of Frederik Willems. For the first few moments of freedom, they take her around the ship, console and sort the crew, and then reminisce of simpler times, where Van Der Decken shares everything he knows about this Ancient One...

"Best not speak of him," Van Der Decken grumbles as they emerge on deck, to a somber evening skirting the World of the Living. "Nor think of him so. These forces... they work with our power, the same one given by the All-High, the very heart of the Universe... But ah, I am getting ahead of myself. What I do know, is that the absence of his heart was a punishment, Eleanore."

At this point, they sit down by the bridge on barrels set around a humble table. "Punishment?" She echoes, and Fritzl raises his brows as well. "You mean... He wants to atone for something?"

"Eh," Van Der Decken says with a sigh, "if you ask me, truthfully, this is not atonement."

The dead captain gestures sadly to the deck full of tormented souls. Eleanore resists the sigh, but it is true. Even Mama, quietly sitting on a step to watch the dismal waves should have been resting under the earth, not here.

"I think I have an idea, Kapi—Hendrik..." Fritzl nods. "'Tis vengeance."

Vengeance. "Then... it means he did not like the punishment," Eleanore taps her nails on the rotting wood, her gaze now on Marques and Fernandez talking together by the bow... with the English sailors from her father's doomed ship. Her chest tightens. "He is angry for his judgment... but why? What happened?" She turns to Van Der Decken. "A curse's end is in its cause. It must be tied to his heart."

And the others... Her throat clamps shut with the unbidden tears. Anton. Hold on. Oh... Eleanore grips the sleeve of her gown tightly, but still, her own heart pleads. Take care of them all, of Torkin.

Take care of yourself, darling. She resists a sigh. He must not be eating or sleeping well now... he must have been dealing with nightmares. When she had her magic before, she had tried to soothe him, and of course, she rightly annoyed him about eating properly and taking naps. And the ship... Tortuga. Eleanore can't even begin to imagine what they have been left to face.

And what her dearest must now carry, all alone, as Captain.

"Ja... ja." Van Der Decken clasps his hands together and pulls her from her dismal thoughts, "All of it. The three days, three nights on land. The ten years at sea. The love of a woman..."

"Love." Eleanore frowns, her mind working too fast for her mouth. "He will free you if you found a woman who'd love you, right?"

"Ah—!" Van Der Decken shakes his head. "Doomed me! I have my passing fancies, indeed, but I never loved. How am I seeing this now?! That scoundrel knew I could never ever break from my curse by setting that condition. It was a farce of a choice because I have none!"

"You mean here, Hendrik..." Fritzl rubs his chin. "A woman will break the curse? Those ten years... A woman." He and Van Der Decken share a look, but before Van Der Decken could shrug and say he doesn't know—

"A woman must be the cause."

They both look at her.

That sounds odd. "Jones" and a woman? But he's no man. He came before the gods, before us. Eleanore winces. "It's the only explanation. And he used your heart for so long, Hendrik—"