Chapter 6

Wil slouched on his seat, relaxing in a small dory, floating gently on a crystal-clear lake. Sheltered by tall, umbrella pine trees, common in southern Illyria, the lake was calm, like a mirror. The blue sun of Secundus shone directly overhead, pleasantly warm on his face.

He enjoyed spending time here, on his mother’s property. When she had married his father, she had given up her ownership on most of her lands, with the exception of this estate, and the lake it overlooked.

He had been coming here since he was a boy, playing in the surrounding vineyards, riding horses across the green fields.

Sighing in contentment, he leaned against the side of his little vessel, putting his feet on the seat opposite. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this relaxed, this calm.

There was…something, on the edge of his memory, some problem that had been worrying him. Whatever it was, it mustn’t have been important. A concern for another day.

Idly wondering if he had remembered to bring something to drink, he didn’t even bother opening his eyes to search. It didn’t seem worth the effort. In a little while he could get up, but for now, he wanted to rest.

Just as he was sinking deeper into this feeling of calm serenity, the boat started to rock around him.

Bolting upright, he looked around in a panic as the calm lake was replaced by an endless ocean, his little vessel being tossed and turned by the dwarfing waves. The blue sky and gentle wind had been transformed into black clouds, angry and violent.

Scared and confused, he gripped the side of the dory with a death grip, looking everywhere around him for help. But he was alone, helplessly isolated and surrounded by the ocean’s fury.

He could only watch as a wave, bigger than all the others, quickly approached from in front of him. Hundreds of feet into the air it rose, his little boat a speck on its surface.

With a crash, it washed over him, shattering his small vessel and pushing him below the ocean.

He was drowning! He couldn’t find the surface, everything was black, and it closed in around him. He was back in the lake at his mother’s estate. His sister had pushed him off the wharf, into the water. He couldn’t swim and he struggled to stay afloat as she laughed, delighted to watch him drown.

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Wil screamed as he woke up, jolting from the dream. Covered in a cold sweat, he was tangled in soaked sheets, not knowing where he was. Terrified, he took short, panting breaths, eyes darting around the room to determine where he was.

It took him ages to calm down enough to take in his surroundings. He was in his room, on the Drake. He hadn’t decorated, and all his belongings were in his bag, but he recognized some of the features of the room.

A scuff on the floor from where he had dropped his sword, a small imperfection on the window glass, some defect from its creation.

He had trouble remembering what happened, why he felt terrible. His body ached, his mana was sluggish and unresponsive.

His memory of the past few days was a blur. He remembered Aachen, the horrors he saw there. He recalled leaving Elbing on the Drake. That was…a few weeks ago?

He had spent days on this ship, messing around with Garman and Bell, training with Mara, studying with Martin. But then…something happened, another crisis in a long line of emergencies.

He stared out the window, unfocused. The blue sun was floating above, the blue water shimmering in the light. Things looked calm outside, the ocean was peaceful.

He thought of his dream, looking for a hint of what he was missing. A boat, nearly drowning in the water, black skies above…a storm!

“God’s Blood and Bones! The storm!” Wil yelled, jumping to his feet, only to collapse onto the floor. His legs were like jelly, and he was as weak as a newborn kitten.

He remembered now! The storm, the wards, throwing his mana into protecting the Drake, fighting against the ocean’s fury. Pieces were missing, his recent memories were images, flashing through his mind. Still frames of the past, with the details in between simply…gone.

It didn’t matter, the important bits were there, he could fill in the particulars later.

“Gods, at least we didn’t explode. Garman must be pleased.” Wil chuckled, as he slowly climbed to his feet, using his bed as leverage. He shambled towards his wardrobe, pleased to see that someone was thoughtful enough to hang his clothing and armor, although it stunk of sea water.

Pulling on a small shred of mana, forcing it to respond, he cast his cleaning cantrip over the items, leaving them clean and dry. It was disconcerting how much effort it took, but not surprising after the ordeal he had just been through.

It took him nearly a half hour to dress, forgoing his armor, Ursine cloak and sword, tucking them into his bag of holding. Wearing a simple white shirt and black pants, he slung the bag over his shoulder, the strap running across his chest.

He pulled his leather boots onto his feet, which were now uncomfortably tight over his toes where the leather had soaked and dried. He left his room, one hand on the wall to support himself.

The hallway outside his room was empty, but the rooms around him were occupied. Most of the doors were closed, but several were open, with members of the crew tidying up their quarters after the storm or chatting in small groups.

Seeing Wil, they met him with nods and smiles, or called out short greetings, showing gratitude for his actions as he walked past, reaching the stairs to the main deck.

The Drake was in shambles. Only one of the masts remained intact, the shattered remnants of the other Garman destroyed had already been cleared away, while the third mast was a charred stub, ending a dozen feet high from the deck.

The sails had burned sometime after they had left Quentin’s cabin, and the crew were still working on removing what was left. Wil watched for a moment as the crew worked to remove it, detaching the broken wooden mast from where it was secured.

Wil didn’t know much about sailing, only the bits and pieces he picked up in his discussions with the captain, but he knew that a ship the size of the Drake needed more than one mast to function.

They were nearly dead in the water unless they could find replacements, and he doubted they would be easy to find anywhere close by.

Pushing that problem aside for someone else to deal with, he walked towards the rear of the Drake, where Annabelle’s cabin was located.

The double doors had been removed, the hinges and latch were probably damaged by Garman’s gentle nudge. Walking into the room, it was nearly unrecognizable from the destruction.

The bookshelves were little more than kindling, most of the pieces having washed away with the retreating water. The books, hundreds of expensive volumes, on a wide variety of topics, were mostly destroyed. The paper waterlogged and the ink ruined.

A vast fortune, gone in a moment. Books were costly items, and Wil knew Annabelle had a fondness for literature. Everything here had come from her personal library, and she had spoken of adding to it when they arrived at Lund.

The boss herself was kneeling on the floor of the cabin, laying out ledgers and sopping wet documents to dry, while she had made a large pile of ruined paperwork near her. She was alone, not noticing his arrival yet.

“There are cheaper ways of drying your floor, Annabelle. You don’t need to use your books.” Wil quipped, kneeling beside her. With a wave of his hand, he used a cantrip to dry the papers in front of him. He couldn’t restore any damage, but he could do this much.

“Thank you for the suggestion, Wil. I couldn’t find a rag, so I thought this would be the best alternative.” She replied, not looking up from her papers. Now that they were dry, she quickly stacked them into a neat pile, carrying them to her desk.

“Where are the others?” he asked, not bothering to get up and sat down on the floor to rest. The short trip up the stairs had taken the good out of him.

“Resting, as you should be. The wards drained them dry. I didn’t expect any of you to be up until tomorrow.” She replied, grabbing another stack of papers to sort through.

“Wimps.” Wil scoffed, smiling at the jest. Annabelle didn’t crack a smile at the joke, a stern look on her face.

“That isn’t funny, Wil.” She said, still ignoring him.

“What’s wrong? Is it the ship, because I’m sure the crew can repair any damage. Any problems, I’m sure we can think of a solution.” Wil tried to comfort her.

“The problem is you, Wil!” She shouted, slamming a ledger down on her desk. Looking down at him, he could see she was truly angry at him.

“Me? Are you blaming me for the damage to the Drake? I told you, Quentin, that I didn’t know how the wards would react. I asked you for another option, before I did it!” Wil yelled back at her, his face flushing with anger. How dare she blame this on him, he saved them, gods damn it!

“I don’t care about the damage! You almost died Wil! Again! And I had to watch…while you…gods” She trailed off, tears in her eyes as she sat heavily onto her chair.

“I…I’m sorry, Annabelle. I couldn’t think of another way. But I’m fine, truly!” Wil said, rushing to her side and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“You were screaming, Wil. I’ve never heard anything that…terrible. It was like…gods…I don’t know what it was like. Even Garman was upset, and I didn’t think anything could get to that man. You were in agony!” She whispered, looking over at him.

“I…don’t remember that…I’m sorry. I can’t recall much since the storm started. Just bits and pieces.” Wil confessed, wracking his mind to think of what happened.

“I think it’s best that you don’t. It just went on, until you simply…collapsed.” She said, a distant look in her eyes.

“The others, did they step in afterwards? Are they alright?” Wil asked. Seeing Annabelle nod, he relaxed.

“I’m sorry that I put you, put everyone, through that. But it had to be me. I had to make sure the process started in the right way.” Wil said.

“I know, it’s just…it’s always you, Wil. Every time something bad happens to us, you’re in the middle of it. I’m sorry, it was hard for me to see.”

“It’s alright. We’re all fine. And the ship is fine, right? The Drake is fine, right?” Wil questioned, panicking slightly as she didn’t respond right away.

“We’re fine, so is the crew. But the Drake? Edvard said we’re dead in the water until repairs are complete. But we need to find land, somewhere we can make a new set of masts.” Quentin said, standing up from the desk.

“Easy! No problem at all! We just need to find land, in the middle of the Azure Sea. Then, we make a new pair of masts, and sail to Lund! Without any wards for protection…in an ocean known for its frequent storms…with another couple of months left in the voyage…” Wil whispered, muttering to himself as Quentin led him for the cabin, looking for the captain.

“No trouble at all.”