The Wanderlust burned beautifully.

She was a beautiful ship, and so everything she did, she did beautifully.

Flames spread across her deck and her masts. Rigging caught quickly, and her rolled sails bloomed red, yellow and orange. The two flags on her repaired flagpole fluttered amidst the floating, burning bits of ash, until the pieces landed on them and they flickered with flames.

The Wanderlust's mizzenmast, the one on the quarter deck, cracked first. The mast fell backwards, pulled down by the weight of the boom, dragging down ropes and sails and tearing through the captain's quarters.

The mainmast fell a moment later, with a terrible wrenching crack. It came down sideways, crushing the bulwark and deck, and crashing through the hull. The Wanderlust listed to the side as water rushed into her lower decks. Then she was sinking and on fire, opposite disasters that seemed like they should have cancelled each other out. But they didn't.

And the Wanderlust sank beautifully.

She cracked in the middle, along the wound caused by the mainmast, and both sides sank together. She slipped beneath the water elegantly. It must have been low tide, because even as the stern vanished below the waves, the bow didn't quite disappear as it settled on the seabed below. The foremast stood strong above the water, still burning. The bowsprit pointed towards the moon defiantly and beneath it, the figurehead gazed up at the night sky.

For the first time in his life, Tanden's mind felt empty. There were no thoughts fluttering around, no plans trying to form. He watched his ship go down with glassy eyes. Unfeeling, as if she was someone else's ship. As if Soren hadn't been aboa—

The crew wasn't taking it nearly as quietly. Tanden could hear them, in a distant, hazy sort of way. He heard Jale yelling, Roan singing a sort of mournful shanty, other shouts and arguing. But why? None of it would help.

Arguing couldn't bring back the Wanderlust. Arguing couldn't bring back—

Tanden only noticed that the ship was moving because what was left of the Wanderlust was getting further away. Further and further, until he couldn't see her anymore. The sun came up, and the cloudless sky was bright and blue. Good sailing winds billowed in the Exhun's sails. It was an offensively beautiful day.

Which wasn't fair. If the gods were real, how could they let such a perfect day follow such a tragic night? How could they let the world continue as if S—

Tanden dragged his thoughts back under some semblance of control. He looked around, noticing for the first time that some of his crew were gone. Either belowdecks, or maybe moved to one of the two other pirate ships. Toliver stood at the helm, jacket fluttering in the wind. Tanden wanted to hate him, but he couldn't let that kind of emotion in. If he did, rage wouldn't be the only emotion breaking through.

He protected himself by shunning all feelings. It was time to be calculating, a cold leader. He looked up at the sky. The sun's position meant they were travelling east, away from Alvara. If they were crossing the Alvan Bay, Tanden wasn't sure what their destination could be. A pirate stronghold, maybe? A new country, off the edges of the map, unrecorded? He tampered down the flicker of intrigue. One feeling would lead to more, and he couldn't afford that. He didn't want to explore new lands without—

Tanden forced himself to look across the deck. Jerios and Jale were still there, tied up with a handful of the crew. Jerios' leg had been wrapped. Roan and Ivern were nowhere to be seen.

Tanden looked around. No one seemed to be paying them any attention. Cautiously, he spoke up in Tallenese.

"Where is everyone else?"

Jale's gaze darted across the deck before she mostly mouthed a reply. "Taken to the other ships. Ivern and Roan went with Elorie."

"You're sure Ara wasn't killed?"

"I saw him run into the jungle. He wasn't killed." Jale bit her lip, pausing, then, "I'm sorry."

Tanden shook his head frantically. He couldn't force the thoughts away if she insisted on talking about what had happened. He abruptly moved on. "Where are we going?"

"I don't know."

Tanden huffed impatiently. He needed information if he was going to try to plan something. He needed to plan something if he didn't want to lost himself in feelings. He tried to shift in his bonds to see around the mast, towards the front of the ship. Maybe a clue lay in what was in front of them.

There was something. A patch of green on the horizon. An island, with a pointed mountain in the middle. Tanden couldn't get a clear look, but that was certainly their destination. It might have been a small detail, and not a very helpful one, but it gave him something to focus on. As the island grew bigger, Tanden focused all of his attention on it. He tried to understand its location by looking at the position of the sun, although stars would have been far more helpful. He wondered if they were heading for a stronghold, and if so, if there would be a change to escape. He thought about his crew, spread between three pirate ships, and Ara, abandoned and hiding in the jungle. He imagined new plans just as quickly as he dismissed them. Sneaking and hiding and subterfuge weren't his strong suits, and he longed for some way to talk his way out of the current situation.

Or to fight. Given the opportunity, he would have driven a sword through Toliver's chest. Fed his body to the sharks, like he had once threatened.

Toliver calling for the anchor to be dropped pulled Tanden from his increasingly dark thoughts. The pirates scurried to raise the sails, the anchor was dropped, and the Exhun came to a stop.

Toliver left the helm and moved to stand in front of Tanden. "And how are you feeling, Captain Tanden?"

Tanden refused to let Toliver make him think about—

He refused to let Toliver see him break.

He lifted his chin, fixing Toliver with a bored look. "For my first time being captured, I expected something a little more creative. What's this?" The ship had rotated around her anchor chain, putting the island square in Tanden's view. They were very close to it. "Are you going to drop me off at some prison? Try to sell me off to some slavers?"

Toliver bobbed his head in a shrug. "Slavers would pay well fo' a translator."

"My brother would pay even more," Tanden said. "Maybe you should call Rico over and discuss ransoming me."

Toliver chuckled. "If I cared about money, wouldn't've burned your ship, aye?"

No. Tanden took a deep breath, pushing the image from his mind. "What exactly do you want, then?" He heard the weakness in his voice and hoped Toliver hadn't noticed.

Planting his fists on his hips, Toliver took a few steps away. "You on your knees would be a good start. Barrin' that, your sufferin' is all I want."

"Ah." Tanden managed a smile, although he wasn't sure where the strength came from. "Is that all?"

"It'd give me a great deal o' satisfaction t' see you break." Toliver's pacing had brought him close to the other crewmembers, and he gave Jerios' injured leg a heartless kick. "But—"

Jale sprung to her feet. Despite her hands being tied together, she threw a punch at Toliver, catching the taller man in the jaw. He stumbled backwards a few steps and Jale followed, punching and kicking and snarling insults in Tallenese. Toliver struggled to restrain her, and another pirate had to rush into the fray to help.

He dragged her away from Toliver, keeping her subdued with a knife at her neck.

Toliver ran a hand through his hair, but it was a poor attempt to neaten himself. A bruise was already darkening his cheek. "Bitch," he grumbled. "Reckon Tanden kept you 'round t' fight his battles, then?"

Tanden couldn't let Toliver focus on Jale. "I killed Lorca. I'm more than capable of fighting my own battles, Toliver. Give me a sword and I'll be glad to show you."

The smirk that crossed Toliver's face didn't seem promising. "All right. Let's see what you decide t' do, aye? Toss her." He said carelessly, while crossing the deck to untie Tanden's ropes.

But Tanden hardly noticed that the ropes were loosening, because the pirate hoisted Jale over his shoulder. She shouted and struggled, but he kept his grip firm and managed to make it to the bulwark. Then he threw her over. Jale disappeared with a shriek.

Toliver was in front of Tanden again. He tossed a cutlass to the deck at Tanden's feet, then drew his own sword.

"What'll it be? Your Northern bitch can swim, aye?"

Tanden suddenly wasn't sure if she could.

Toliver grinned. "Go on, then. Make a choice. You can fight me, or help her outswim the sharks."

It wasn't a choice. Tanden gave Jerios a fleeting look, a brief attempt at apology, then ran for the side of the Exhun and dove into the ocean.

***

Jale wasn't good at swimming, particularly with her hands tied together, but once Tanden calmed her down she became easier to manage. He towed her towards the island as the pirate ships lifted anchor and sailed in the opposite direction.

It was almost a relief. All he could think about was swimming. Keeping his head above the water. Getting to the island. Talking to Jale to keep her calm whenever he had enough breath to do so. They were lucky that the wind was behind them. They were lucky that there didn't seem to actually be any sharks.

Tanden swam. He had always been good at swimming. His goals circled endlessly in his mind. Swim. Head above the water. The island. Talking to Jale. Swim. Head above the water. The island.

He was exhausted when he feet finally felt sand. He walked, then crawled when the water was shallow enough. He dragged himself onto the dry sand and collapsed onto his back, the ocean water still lapping at his toes. Jale lay beside him, coughing and shivering. Maybe crying. Tanden was too exhausted to turn his head to look at her. His eyes drifted closed.

***

He knew he hadn't dozed for very long, because his clothing was still wet when he opened his eyes. Jale was gone. Tanden rolled onto his knees and pushed himself to his feet, then took the first good look at the island.

Jale's footsteps were clear on the pristine white beach. She had walked off to the left, towards what looked like a shipwreck. Tanden sighed, and started to follow her tracks. The beach was a barren border between the ocean and the thick jungle which climbed up a hill. Tanden remembered the peak he had seen from a distance, and wondered at how big the island was. Were there inhabitants?

The sun and breeze dried his clothes and hair. Tanden was tired, and thirsty, and he wanted to curl up, sleep, and forget everything that had happened. But he plodded on and finally reached the wreck.

It wasn't too large. An Alvarian version of a schooner, maybe. Tanden could hear Jale rummaging around through what was left of the bow.

"Jale?"

She immerged a moment later, a rusty sword tucked into her belt and another in her hand. "I was hoping to find some food, but this is an old wreck. We might be able to find some fruit in the jungle, or hunt, maybe. It would be easier with a bow, we can try with these." She held out the second sword.

Tanden looked at it, and couldn't bring himself to reach for it. What was the point? The last time he had really held a sword, it had been—

Tanden fell to his knees, and the feelings crashed over him. He screamed into the sand, punched it so hard his fists ached, soaked it with tears. Jale was there, her hand on his back, words he couldn't hear tumbling out of her mouth.

In a moment of clarity he pushed her away, because the only person he wanted wasn't there—would never be there—and her touch made that impossible to ignore. She left him lying on the sand alone, sobbing into his arms. Wishing he had stabbed Toliver a year ago. Wishing he had drowned before making it to the beach. Wishing he had been on the Wanderlust instead.

A captain going down with his ship.