Treasure

Second Voyage

"Captain?"

He looked up from his chart table as the ship's boy opened the door.

"Looks like a storm on the horizon, sir," the boy said. The captain jumped from his chair, the tiredness in his face replaced with a manic glee.

"Where?" he demanded. "How long?" The boy pointed.

"Starboard," he said. "Moving fast."

"Starboard," the captain said, as if the word tasted delightful. "Hand me that, will you?" he asked, pointing at a satchel hanging by the door.

"They weren't kidding," the boy said, handing it over. "You really are storm-mad. I heard the legend once, about a magic treasure at the end of the world, and you have to ride a storm to get there. But that's just a story." The captain grinned.

"Stories, young man, are exactly what I'm after." He shoved past the boy just as rain began to slap the deck.

"Captain!" the first mate called. "Orders?"

"You know the order!" the captain shouted up. "Into the storm!"

They rode the storm for three days and three nights. On the third night, the clouds parted to reveal the brightest full moon any of them could remember. The sea sparkled around them in all directions but one, where a rocky beach in the near distance climbed into a mountain's peak. The captain looked up and grinned at strange stars, and it seemed to him that the moon winked in answer.

"Now what?" the first mate asked. The captain grinned and stepped up to the rail.

"Now," he said, taking off his hat and fixing it on the first mate's brow, "it's your decision." Without another word, he dove off the side of the ship and swam in a straight line for the distant beach. Several of the sailors lunged half-overboard with shouts of "Captain!" But for all their noise, the captain kept swimming. As the shouts subsided, one dry, coughing chuckle cut through the night.

"Crazy bastard," the old man said, with more than a hint of fond admiration in his voice. "I never thought we'd actually find it again."

"Find what?" the first mate asked, at the same time the ship's boy cried "it's real?" The old man nodded toward the shore. In the distance, the last light of the moon shone on the edge of a huge stone door opening and closing.

"Should we wait for him?" the first mate asked.

"Up to you." The man shrugged. "You're the captain. But it'll be a long wait." The moon sank below the horizon. The new captain looked toward the door again, but it was gone, along with the whole island. "He's sailing under different stars now."

They slept, then, and set off at first light toward home. Every man but two faced forward. The old man stood at the stern rail, saying his goodbyes, and hoping the captain would forgive him for dragging him away all those years ago. And the ship's boy, whose eyes were full of foreign stars, rubbed his itchy shoulder blades against a crate and stared into his memory, wondering.

Alone in a pool of light, the captain called. "Hello?"

"Crestin," Meliran said, just as beautiful now as he had been all those years ago. "You're of our feather after all."

Crestin stumbled forward as his back split open, wings exploding from shoulders that had itched for years. Meliran caught him, held him until the change was complete. Crestin coughed.

"I thought you were kidding," he said, but his voice was mostly laughter. Meliran grinned.

"Welcome home."