Killian hated dreaming. Dreams were unrealistic fantasies that would be, upon waking, a disappointment compared to the dismal reality he found himself in the best case scenario. At the worst, they were nightmares that left him in a cold sweat. Fortunately for Killian, it was rare that he ever had to bear them. On the occasions which he did happen to dream, it was rarer that they would be recalled upon his waking. This was also to his personal favor. However, unfamiliar surroundings bred a sort of mental restlessness that compelled his imagination to run wild.
As his time to leave Flotsam had grown short, Killian had been having stranger and more vivid dreams, the likes of which he would rather avoid. Despite this, he could not hold out much longer as the untold hours passed in the darkness. There was a silent tension that had taken hold of the Orcs and had bade him not to speak another word. He had been so shocked at the realization of what he had seen above deck - about what he had learned of Sharroc - that he had almost been careless enough to address it directly to the Orc himself. One look at the murderous glare he had given Ghuzul at her mention of his family had told Killian now was not the time.
Since then, Killian had fought off sleep until he could bear it no longer, and his eyes closed against his will.
Golden waves caressed the sides of the SilverSail as the vessel smoothly cut through the shimmering water. Killian's eyes drank up all that they could catch. Rapidly, he swiveled his head from side to side, standing on the very tips of his toes to see if he could spy even a speck of land on the distant horizon. Never before had he not been able to see solid land. In fact, never before had he been out to sea.
Killian strained his arms against the rail, attempting to pull himself even a hair higher, but a burly arm restrained him by the waist just as he gave a final heave.
"We've crossed leagues from the Gildstream Isle by now, Killy. We're out in the center of the Dractorian Sea - nothing to be seen even from the top of the main mast."
"Even if I stood on my tip-toes?" Killian wondered with awe.
"Even if I stood on my tip-toes."
There was a warm laugh, and Killian tilted his head backwards to catch his brother's smile.
"Can you lift me, Al?" He pleaded.
Aldred rolled his eyes as he hoisted Killian onto his shoulder with a concentrated huff. Killian steadied himself against his brother's shaggy head, never taking his eyes off the endless ocean.
"I won't be able to do this much longer," Aldred warned reproachfully, "You've almost reached your twelfth roat, and nearly a man."
"Nearly able to Captain my own ship?" Killian asked, swinging his legs back and forth.
Aldred raised his free hand to stroke his beard. "Well, you'd have to apprentice first, like I did under father."
"Will you take me as your apprentice, some day?"
Aldred was taken aback at the question. Killian's legs had stopped swinging as he turned his head at last to his brother. Aldred nearly chuckled, but changed his mind after seeing the hopefulness in the child's eyes.
"I suppose there's nothing for it - I'll see what can be done. For now at least, allow me the journey to get the lay of my own ship."
Just then, a pair of footsteps approached with the accompanying call of "Captain Silversail!" that caused the pair to turn towards the visitors. Leading the duo was a bright-eyed young sailor in a uniform so spotless it appeared new even to the inexperienced. He waved and smiled earnestly, long strands of tied black hair swinging at each step. Though Killian did not immediately recognize him, he did recognize the middle-aged man that followed closely behind. Aldred quickly set down his brother as he moved to embrace the first man.
"Rob! I'd been wondering when I would be seeing you again. Have you been aboard since the Wharf?"
The man known as Rob stepped back, nodding his assent.
"Aye. Captain Goldwind was kind enough to give me the grand tour - mighty fine vessel you've got here, Captain."
Aldred thanked the young man, before addressing his attention to the salt-bearded man to the rear. He formally extended a hand in greeting, which the sailor expectantly took.
"Captain Goldwind, a good morning to you. I did not see you at first mess."
"You know I prefer to meal in my own quarters, away from all the squawking." He released his hand with a curt abruptness. "You can ease with the formalities at least for the journey, can't you? I've got this rabble calling 'Captain! Captain!' at every corner. It's your ship and your Cresting Day, so I'll have only one Captain aboard this vessel, at least from my damned son!"
Gresham Goldwind spoke harshly, but the two men had long learned to tell when what he said was in jest. He had had nearly three decades long been a Captain, and time aboard a ship had a way of hardening people. His posture was rigid; his short cropped hair and peppered stubble that he sawed at himself bi-weekly were a testament to his fixed ways. Whether his mood was sweet or sour could only be ascertained by a slight up or downturn in his lip.
"I'm sure I can manage that, father." Aldred said with a wide, toothy grin.
"Good!" Gresham barked, "I did this duty for you this once, my boy, but a Captain should always be present to acquaint their First Mate with the ship."
Aldred turned and looked questioningly at Rob, to which he only shrugged in response.
"I figured with a crew of unfamiliar hands, you'd be in need of someone you could trust. You worked with him aboard my ship when you apprenticed for me and know each other well enough. Robert ain't salt-brained or addled by drink, at least not yet anyhow. It is your decision, Captain."
However, Aldred was already nodding his head in contemplation. He turned to Robert.
"Think you'll have an easier go under me than my old man, is it?" Aldred jested.
Again, Robert shrugged, smile remaining plastered on his face all the same.
"Knowing you I half expect to be worked twice as hard, but I can't go by just 'Robert' all my days. I'd like to earn a Cresting Day of my own under your leadership, Captain. If you'll have me."
Aldred placed a firm hand on the shoulder of the young man.
"I graciously accept your offer, my friend."
Gresham grunted his approval. "Where've you been off too anyhow? A new Captain should be getting acquainted with his crew."
"Ah, I was off exploring the ship with Killian - getting him used to his sea legs, since it's his first time at sea." Aldred stepped aside to reveal the boy shadowed behind him, as if just remembering he was there. Robert looked him over as one might a curious bird - no doubt comparing the family resemblance between the three. Gresham studied his youngest son as well, although his gaze felt to Killian more akin to how one would leer at an insect. Killian shuffled his feet at the combined scrutiny.
"The boy's nearly a man grown, and a deckhand aboard the Silversail at least for the time being," Gresham absentmindedly scratched at his cheek, "I'd been on a trader for a half-cade already when I was his age."
"It was her wish, father." Aldred softly reminded him.
Gresham gave another dismissive grunt. "Aye it was her wish, and if your mother hadn't left, the boy would still be taking milk out of her teat. He can work his way around a ship without suckling yours."
Killian did not speak, nor did he remove his eyes from the decking. Gresham turned towards Aldred.
"I'd like a moment of your time in private, Captain. There are some matters of utmost importance in regards to the shipment we are transporting to the Tooth that require your attention."
Without sparing time to hear a reply, Gresham strode off in the opposite direction, beckoning to be followed. Aldred sighed, looking between Killian and Robert.
"Look after him for a time, will you?" He pleaded to Robert, who quickly agreed. Aldred affectionately tousled Killian's hair before turning to follow in their father's wake.
Robert got down on one knee to address the boy, who had not yet acknowledged him.
"Name's Robert, but feel free to call me Rob. I'm a good friend of your brothers - we all worked closely together under your father. It is nice to meet you."
Robert extended a hand, which young Killian sheepishly took.
"You know Brandy too?" He asked after a moment.
"Aye, when he was still aboard the Goldwind. Bit of a prickly fellow, but the two of us got on well enough. What was it the pair of you were looking at, before our interruption?"
Killian lost all bashfulness seemingly in an instant.
"Aldred was trying to lift me up to see if I could see any islands! He says we're headed far from the Gildstream Isle towards the Tooth - like father said…"
He paused for a moment in contemplation.
"...a strange name for a town, don't you think?"
Robert smiled down at him, shaking his head. "It isn't a town, it's an archipelago."
"What's an archy-play-go?" Killian asked.
"Archipelago," Robert corrected, "An island chain. There are five in the Dracticos Isles, do you know which one you're from?"
Killian screwed up his face in concentration, before the answer dawned on him. "It's…the Crown!" He shouted, feeling giddy at Robert's confirmation.
"The Gildstream Isle is the smallest of the islands that make up the Crown, but it's adjacent to the most important of our lands - Capital Isle, and the city of Caportos. There's also the Maw, the Beak, the Horn, and the Tooth. Quite a journey for your first, we're heading to the farthest one."
"What about the Eye?" Killian asked. "Momma told me about the archyplaygos, she said they're the bones of a big dragon that could fly round the whole world with just two flaps of its wings!"
Robert chuckled to himself, patting the child on the back. "I'd not have thought you raised in the Isles if your mother hadn't told you that fable. My ma told me there'd been two dragons that had fought to the death."
Killian nodded his head emphatically. "But she told me all about the Eye."
Robert hummed to himself in thought. "I suppose she's right to think it part of the Isles. The Eye is what some folk who dispute the territory call the lands of Skjarandell. Though why anybody'd want 'em is beyond me - not a speck of arable land or suitable coast about the place, that's why there's not a reasonable soul to live there."
But Killian was already shaking his head as passionately as he had been nodding it just moments before. "Momma told me that's where the giants live."
Robert smiled knowingly. "Ah, another tale I was told as a lad. Though our isles might have been far, it seems you and I shared a lot of stories."
"Where is it you're from, Mr. Rob?"
"I'm from a small trading harbor in the Maw, Tandor Wharf. I only boarded the SilverSail yestermorn when she refilled provisions at her port."
Killian shivered absentmindedly at a sudden chill in the air. "And what town are we heading to in the Tooth?" He asked his new companion.
"That'd be Waveskeld," Robert answered as the sky paled from blue to grey, "large fishing town. Captain Silversail broke into their salt trade, so he's in quite a hurry to make it there before any other traders catch wind of the dealings."
Killian turned back into the direction of the sea, grasping the railing with both of his little hands. The agitated choppiness of the sea did not phase him. He had seen it all before, but went through the motions all the same.
"I should really like to see it!" He said excitedly.
"But you never will."
Killian's grip tightened. He refused to turn his head.
"None of us will." Robert continued.
"Why?" Killian croaked. His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, barely to be heard above the howling gales.
"He should have sailed north around the Tooth. North. Instead he took us South, through the land of the Lurlaiths, through the Bite. That's where the Tooth sinks its fang. Aptly named islands, I'd say. The Bite, with its rocky shoals, rips and tears through wooden hulls as if flesh and bone. Where the Bite sinks its tooth, the Bite sinks its ships. Why would the Silversail be any different?"
"It wasn't Al's fault!" Killian screwed his eyes shut, clapping his hands over his ears as hard as he could, but it made no difference.
"No, not entirely. It was his fault. The journey is dangerous on a good day, but the storm, the dying light, the silver-tongued shadows beneath the brine. It was him-"
"STOP!" Killian screamed. This was his least favorite part.
"-that made us carry on. On and on and on. After Aldred was long gone, long after he'd even lost his own mind. Still, he would always make you-"
"STOP IT!" Killian screamed, as the memory of the sailor wrenched him by the shoulders and forced their faces within inches of each other.
"-KEEP PLAYING!"
Killian's eyes were opened by an unseen will. Filling his vision was the ghastly, deformed face of young Robert. His features were aged, contorted with madness seen in bulging, bloodshot eyes and gnashing teeth that mingled rain and saliva and blood into a thick foamy bile. Killian let out one last scream as the wraith pushed him over the gunwale.