Waterborne (Wanderlust 3)

Chapter Thirty-Four

In hindsight, it was probably lucky to be unconscious through the storm, Soren thought when he eventually woke up and understood what had happened.

"The worst storm we've ever been through," Ivern said, as he helped Soren walk out of the small cabin that made up the ship's captain's quarters. Walking hurt. The wound was serious but, as long as it stayed clean, not life threatening. Even better, it was the worst injury anyone in the crew had received. Everyone else made it through the skirmish with cuts and bruises.

Soren struggled to hide his wincing as he let Ivern help him climb up the stairs towards the helm. The Alvarian ship didn't have the same kind of large quarterdeck he was used to, and so it was only a few steps. Although they felt like a much bigger obstacle.

Ivern was still talking. "The wind... I've never seen anything like it. We were almost slammed against the rocks more than once, but this pirate is quite the sturdy thing."

"Aye, makes some sense, too." Roan was standing at the helm, holding it with his left hand. A new sling bound his right arm against his chest. "These Alvarian lasses've got t' withstand a tropical storm, aye?"

"Aye," Soren agreed. He hissed an exhale as he momentarily lost his balance, shuffling his feet in a way that tugged at the wound. "It's fine... No, just..." Waving away their concerns, he tried to focus. "You got a handle on the sails, then?"

Roan shrugged his good shoulder. "Eventually." He gave the helm a hearty pat. "She cuts through the waves and wind nicely."

Soren grabbed the bulwark for support and looked over the ship. She wasn't as long or wide as the Wanderlust. Her two masts held their unique triangular sails, which billowed in the wind. Their crew was doing a good job. Even Ara was helping, Soren caught sight of him near the bow, working with Kurias.

Soren pressed his left hand against his side, even though it did nothing to dull the aching pain. "I'm sorry I wasn't awake to help."

"Don't be," Ivern said. "Taking that hit probably saved my life."

"N' Ivern handled first mate duties just fine," Roan added. "Now, you gonna address the crew, Cap'n?"

Soren, already holding himself fairly still, froze. His right hand squeezed the bulwark so hard it hurt. "Roan."

"Only 'till we've got him back, mate."

Ivern added, more gently, "We need a Captain."

Soren exhaled slowly. They were right, of course, but that didn't make hearing the title any less strange. It didn't help that he almost considered it Tanden's name. As if he was the only one. As if there could be no other Captains in the world.

He nodded abruptly. "Gather the men. I'm not jumping up on the bulwark to talk to them."

Ivern gave Soren a very gentle clap on the shoulder as he walked past. He climbed down the stairs and started calling to the men. Soren watched, eyed the short staircase, and decided it wasn't something he wanted to tackle again so soon. Struggling to hide another wince, he turned to face the ship. He removed his hand from his side and grabbed the bulwark. He didn't want to look hurt, even if all the men knew he was.

The men gathered on the deck in front of him. Eleven men. Twelve, if he included himself. It wasn't a large crew, but it would have to do. Soren spared a moment to cast a quick glance over each of them, taking in their wounds and bruises.

He was used to shouting orders to these men. But he wasn't used to making speeches or being inspirational. Tanden's absence felt huge and obvious.

Soren started to take a deep breath to prepare, but cut it off as soon as he felt the spike of pain in his side. He squeezed the bulwark with both hands to stop himself from clutching at himself.