Alone, at last!

Gwynt liked nothing better than the feel of hundreds of miles of absolutely nowhere between him and the rest of humanity. He envied Taran somewhat, who had an entire continent to claim. But not much - Gwynt could claim the skies. No other being on the face of the earth could force the sky to embrace him. A Sorceress needed her wings, and even someone who had an advanced junction with Pandemona needed the GF's help. But Gwynt could call the wind and make it obey him. He could call it and it would carry him, pull him into the sky. There could be no greater freedom.

He took his time getting to Esthar, just enjoying the feel of power over his world - no other people to worry about. He sailed wherever he wanted, following the sun or the stars or an interesting current. It didn't matter. He used his power to create waterspouts safely away from his boat, and simply pulled out the fish he would eat. The only life he had to concern himself with was his own; he didn't really need the ship, it just made things easier. And each night, he summoned the winds and rode them higher and higher until the little boat was a mere dot against the waters. With the power flowing through his body he could see the distant shores of Balamb from this height - and the distant shores of Esthar. They were beautiful because they were distant. People were distant. Laws and strictures were things of some other place. On his own craft there was only freedom.

That was his routine for the next few days - call a light wind to the sails of his ship and sail during the day, and at night let the sails go limp and ride the winds himself until he needed to sleep. For the first time - and perhaps the last time - in his life, Gwynt was bound to no-one and nothing. He could go anywhere, do anything. He fully intended to take advantage of it.

It was tempting to just stay on that sailboat. To Gwynt the wind was a living thing he could sense and touch as well as command, and as far as he was concerned it had its own personality as well. Oh, not like the Guardian Force of Wind, Pandemona - not a personification of the wind's power, but the wind itself. Out here, on the ocean, the wind reveled in its freedom as much as he did. There was nothing to stop it, nothing to block it or funnel it - no hills, no trees, and above all no buildings. It teased whitecaps from the waves and sighed in the sails, free and content.

He couldn't keep the boat though. The Gardens owned the seas - any unidentified craft ran the risk of being mowed down by the swift-floating buildings, and Gwynt could not afford to be identifiable. And Esthar had no beaches, only high cliffs and fjords. When he tired of a fish-only diet, he let the ship crash against the rocks and rode the wind to the top of the cliff, and on to Esthar.

The wind didn't work well against any but flying foes, but it did let him avoid most fights simply by flying over them. After a few days' low flight - Esthar favored air travel and he had no desire to become an oversized pigeon in an intake vent - he landed near the outskirts of Esthar. He chose a rather seedy apartment building that was a holdover from Laguna's rule, free to all comers - run on government money that had dried up in recent years, and therefore not in the best of condition. A sixty storey building, and no elevators. Naturally, by taking a room at the very top, Gwynt assured himself of a lack of neighbors. He could stay here for a few days at least. He might get into a few fights for privacy, but he didn't particularly worry about it. Not with his own gifts being what they were.

He flung his carisak into a corner of the unfurnished apartment, and locked the door behind him. Then he checked out the window - thank goodness, the fire escape was several hundred feet away. He grinned and just let himself drop out the window, letting the wind cradle him as he fell.

Amazing how few people looked up in a city. Or anywhere at all but where they were going. Gwynt made his way to the Airstation. He'd get work there, doing whatever he could, and use it to pay for flight lessons. He would need the certification, because while the wind would carry him he did get tired having it do so. Better to let an engine do the brunt of the work of staying airborne, and save his power for other things.

Esthar City was a marvel of technology. There were floater-ways everywhere, free to all - and this meant that Gwynt could go many places without having to deal with a lot of people, because most would take the floaters if at all possible. He didn't fly - not here, in the city proper where it was all too likely he would be observed. No, he jogged instead, running lightly from intersection to intersection, following the way-signs that indicated the path to the Airstation. Most of the traffic in Esthar was automated in one way or another, so getting from place to place on foot was simply a matter of timing.

Gwynt had excellent timing. Already, Esthar was starting to feel like home.