Day One

"I need someone on that flying jib before the wind rips it apart. Braun! Lash yourself to the nest; copper bottom. The last sailor I had that took stupid risks is swimming in the drink, so unless you fancy yourself a mermaid, I suggest some double-time. Pip, check for Judas. We don't need to be tabling anything if we can help it. Get Roath to help you. Civies, this is no time to be topside unless you plan to be dhobying your clothes in this downpour. Just don't come crying to me when you got a fever and you're hurling the dandyfunk all over the place. And for El's sake, can someone tell me for all that is good and holy why this bleeding elf has decided to take a nap on the middle of the main while we're three sheets to the wind?"

Thepa turned to watch the captain look over Wilran with a stern gaze. Completions at sea had hardened the male elf, from the sun-bleached hair that whipped around in the wind to the cracking leather in his tightly laced boots. A white shirt, soaked in the pouring rain, clung to the rolling pectorals that graced the broadside of his chest, while three long braids fixed his beard against the billowing winds that rolled through the air.

He was not an elf to be trifled with. Thepa had heard the other sailors refer to him in private as the Anchor, but it wasn't until now she understood why. He was as unmovable as a rock in the cycling tempest and as menacing as a soldier who had just scored a great victory in battle. Being armed to the teeth and towering over Wilran only a few feet away, Thepa worried for her friend.

Truthfully, Thepa was surprised to see him there. Since they had boarded the boat earlier in the day, the captain hadn't left the poop deck, his hands glued to the helm as if he alone could wrestle the ship against the raging sea.

Around them, sailors ran about the ship securing the rigging. Shouts and cries were made to one another, largely lost in the roar of the sea that thrashed them about. Thepa knew she would eventually have to intervene on Wilran's behalf, but a strong desire in her chest pushed back. More than anything, she wanted to keep her eyes fixed to the male satyr and his wolf. While neither one of them were doing anything pertinent, a yearning to watch held her captive.

More and more Thepa found herself staring at the two of them as if they might reveal the secrets of the universe. It was quite an experience for the young Matriarch. On the one hand, their playfulness and love for each put a smile on face and a laughter in her heart. On the other hand, it gave her a chance to feel the sensational experience and growing desire that strongly settled in the center of her chest that was too confusing to put into words. The closest way Thepa could articulating it to herself was recalling the feeling she got spending time with Rory.

Still, I have responsibilities.

With a final look back, she slowly approached the belligerent captain. She pushed the thoughts of Fokin from her mind and approached the Anchor in what she hoped was an equally menacing manner. He might have had a ship to save, but she wasn't going to let him abuse her people.

"She's trying to help, Captain. If you know what's good for you, you will stop bothering her and let her continue to chant. You and I both know this kind of storm can capsize this ship. We need to take precautions. You do your job and let her do hers."

Once the storm struck, Thepa had watched Wilran take a meditative position as the sailors scurried about their duties. The signs around them all pointed to trouble ahead, and as Thepa went about looking for a way to help, she watched the energy rolling around Wilran's body and her eyes roll to the back of her head.

It was a look Thepa had seen once before—a long time ago, on a hot summer day in Wildehaven.

It was the stickiness of that day that stuck with Thepa. She had just had a long day in tracker training and she felt like a jump in the ocean might be the thing she needed to cool off her overheated body. In the months following her move to the halfling city, she had started to appreciate other Saintians in her life and she wanted to share the dip with two of her favorite people in the world.

Unfortunately, Claudia was out. Thepa couldn't recall where she was, but she knew it had something to do with a mission involving a set of orphans that were destined for their new home in Wildehaven's orphanage. It was a noble cause, like most of what Claudia did, so she diddn't begrudge her of it. Still, there was Rory.

She found Rory sitting beneath their favorite tree in the courtyard between the Robin and Venya dorms. As Thepa approached, she saw that Rory wasn't alone. A halfling in silver robes stood beside her, red spectacles perched precariously on the bridge of her nose as she scribbled furiously in a notebook. At first, Thepa paid little attention to the halfling, her focus entirely on Rory. But as she drew closer, her heart skipped a beat.

Rory's eyes had rolled back into her head, her eyelids fluttering, and soft, unintelligible words escaped her lips. Panic welled in Thepa's chest. Without thinking, she rushed forward, brushing past the halfling and knocking her over as she attempted to shake her friend out of her stupor.

"Rory? Rory! What's wrong? Answer me please?" she cried, her voice trembling with fear.

The halfling, now sprawled on the ground, began shouting in protest, but Thepa ignored her. Her sole focus was Rory. Fortunately, her panic had been unnecessary. At Thepa's touch, Rory blinked, her eyes focusing and recovered quickly.

"Heya Thepa," Rory exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her in a warm hug. "You're earlier than I thought. We were just working a new bit of magic."

Thepa, still shaken, glanced sheepishly at the disgruntled halfling, who was adjusting her skewed spectacles.

"Magic?" Thepa asked awkwardly.

"Joint project with the Ministry of Wizardry," Rory explained with a wisp of a smile. "We have to learn a chant spell; they have to observe how the divine gets their magic."

"Oh," Thepa said, shrinking back in embarrassment. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."

Rory placed a hand on her arm, her voice soft but sincere. "Thepa, you are never a bother to me. Never forget that. In fact, I was just telling Einkidi"—she gestured to the halfling—"how you're the most important Saintian in the world to me. Einkidi; Thepa. Thepa; Einkidi. I have a feeling you two are going to like each other very much."

Thepa knew that, much like Rory's chant on the warm humid day, Wilran was using a long form of magic that required intense concentration and a powerful surge of energy. Unlike Wilran's usual magic, the chant lacked the somatic movements normally necessary to cast a spell, but required a much longer casting time. To stop now would mean to start all over and with the storm nearing its peak, that wasn't an option. Regardless, none of that seemed to concern the Anchor who continued to argue with her.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

"Your mate still picked a fine time to go all lubberly. Maybe she can bleed the monkey while she's at it. Need me to fetch some for you?"

A quizzical look appeared over Thepa's face. The jargon confused her. It wasn't uncommon for sailors to use different terms, but that didn't mean she understood them. At best, she thought the Anchor was being sarcastic.

"Captain," she replied, keeping her tone calm, "I agree that my companion could have chosen a better place to cast her spell, but there is no sense in arguing about it now. Feel free to dress down after we've weathered the storm."

Her words didn't seem to appease him, but Thepa held her ground, arms crossed, staring him down. She thought she was winning the battle until the Anchor, without a word, drew one of his daggers.

"What are you doing?" she asked, alarmed, her hand instinctively going to her own blade.

Ignoring her, the Anchor sliced a thick length of rope from the rigging. In a swift motion, he pushed Wilran against the mast and tied her securely, making quick work of the knot.

"There," he said, stepping back to admire his handiwork. "If she's going to save my crew, the least I can do is keep her safe while she does it. Sister, if you're staying topside, I suggest you either help keep her steady or assist your beau over there."

"He's not—" Thepa began, but her words were cut off by the frantic shouts of sailors pointing toward the starboard side. Her heart sank as she saw a massive wave, towering at least fifty feet, racing toward them.

"Helm to starboard," bellowed the Anchor. Thepa wasn't sure what the Anchor was about to do, but was sure it wouldn't be enough.

As the ship slowly started to turn in that direction, the Anchor grabbed Thepa by the waist. With a quick motion, he pulled her down to Wilran's level, holding on to the both of them while the waves crashed into the side of the ship. Dumbfounded by the action, Thepa realized she hadn't even sheathed her dagger until she felt the thing slice his arm.

Thepa tried to apologize but got a mouth full of the sea's salty saturation. If there was any part of her that had remained dry in the pouring rain, the ocean had now soaked every bit of her in the watery crash. She sputtered and spit as she tried to get the awful taste out of her mouth, but the Anchor's firm grip was making it difficult.

"You're not making this easy, Sister," he quipped, his voice tight with strain.

A large crack of thunder pierced the sky as if to keep Thepa from further sticking her hoof in her mouth. Next to her Wilran's power accelerated. Thepa could feel the warmth the spell was giving off despite the fact the sea had dosed her in cold water; she prayed, hoping the sudden burst of magic would be the final rotation.

At last, the energy hit its peak. With a strength Thepa didn't know Wilran had, Wilran forced the Anchor and herself off her and threw her hands into the darkened sky while waves of blue light pulsed from her fingertips.

As soon as its light reached the clouds, its rays disintegrated the haze and spread out like ripples along the water. In its wake, the waves calmed and a peaceful light revealed a half-moon gracefully hanging in the distance. The rain softened to a drizzle, then stopped altogether as the magic spread across the horizon.

"That's quite the trick, ma'am," the Anchor remarked as he untied the rope from around Wilran.

Thepa stood, her waterlogged clothes clinging to her, futilely trying to smooth them out. There was little she could do about her drenched state, but she had survived.

"I don't suppose you'd care to join my crew?" the Anchor asked, grinning as he helped Wilran to her feet. "We don't have any lasses on board, but I'm sure we can convert one of the storage rooms to your liking. That is, if you want the job. The pay's decent and I can promise you I'm as fair as they come.".

Is he trying to win her over with a job? Thepa thought. I hope not... He must have other intentions.

Wilran gave a polite smile but shook her head. "Your offer is generous, Captain, but the Goddess wills me elsewhere. I'm sure you understand."

"Suit yourself," the Anchor said with a shrug, already turning away as if the conversation hadn't mattered. He trudged back toward the poop deck, barking orders at his crew to reset the riggings. He made no other gesture towards either one of them, but Wilran watched him leave nevertheless. It wasn't until Thepa spoke that Wilran finally took her eyes off him.

"He's brazen. Don't you think?"

Wilran turned her attention back, her expression unreadable. "No more than some," she replied, her voice even. "Self-assurance and a dash of narcissism seem to come with the role. Whether it's commanding a ship... or leading an Elite Team, it's all the same."

Thepa folded her arms, slightly stung by the remark. She cast a glance toward the captain still shouting orders. "Still," she muttered, "I prefer a softer touch. You don't have to yell to get people to follow you."

Wilran's eyes drifted past Thepa, focusing on something behind her. "True, but sometimes a little force is exactly what's needed to get results."

A loud crash behind her snapped Thepa's attention. Though the rain had stopped, Roan had hydroplaned hard into the taffrail with a crash and a whimper, causing Thepa and Fokin to abandon their positions. As she made her way among the wet main, careful to avoid the same fate as Roan, she heard Wilran call out to the Anchor.

"Permission to approach the poop, Captain?"

By the time Thepa reached Roan, Fokin was already kneeling by his side, the familiar blue glow of healing magic radiating from his outstretched hand. Thepa saw the warmth in his amber eyes, the same kindness she had observed before when he healed her leg.

"How is he?" she asked softly.

Once again, the fluttering feeling returned to her chest and for the first time, she had a word for the sensation that was building up inside of her: longing—longing for something she feared she could never have.

'Why not?' The voice inside her asked. It too was becoming a more frequent occurrence around the druid and his wolf.

"Just a scuffle," Fokin said with a smile. "Just not too fond of the sea, it seems. Can't say I blame him."

Thepa returned his smile and crouched beside them, tentatively reaching out to touch Roan's nose. The wolf, once distant, now accepted the gesture with a contented huff. It was a welcome change.

"Well, Roan," she said, gently stroking his fur, "I think we'll make landfall by dawn. You'd best rest up. We'll need that sharp nose of yours come morning."

Roan responded with a sloppy lick to Thepa's face, leaving her sputtering in surprise as a mixture of saliva and sea spray clung to her skin like a spider's web. She thought about going to wash her face, but as Fokin bent over in laughter, she stopped and laughed herself.

"It means he likes you," Fokin said between chuckles. "Hopefully, you kept your mouth closed."

"Just barely," Thepa replied, half-laughing, half-disgusted. "Next time, I'll settle for a simple thank you."

With the last of his laughter fading, Fokin leaned back against Roan, motioning for Thepa to sit beside him. She hesitated for only a moment before settling down next to him, her body pressing into the warmth of Roan's fur. Despite the salty chill of the sea air, the heat radiating from the wolf's body stirred something deeper inside her.

"You doing alright?" she asked, casting him a sidelong glance. "It's your first time this far out to sea, isn't it?"

Fokin nodded, letting out a contented sigh. "Yes. It's... a bit unsettling. But change is good. It's nice to be on an adventure with someone you trust."

Thepa felt a soft warmth bloom in her chest at his words. Without thinking, she leaned in a little closer. "Strange to trust someone you barely know," she said, her voice quieter now, almost wistful.

Fokin turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting hers. "I trust in the Goddess," he said softly, as if that answered everything. "To rely solely on my own wisdom would be an affront to her ways. But in this case, I think they happily to align."

Thepa tried to stifle her own yawn, but the warmth of Roan's fur and Fokin's gentle presence lulled her into a hazy drowsiness. She struggled to say more but ultimately found that nothing more needed to be said. The lull of the sea, combined with Fokin's soft breaths and the glow of her pendant reflecting the moon's light, brought her a sense of peace. As sleep overtook her, she dreamed of telling Rory, Claudia, and Einkidi the story of the mysterious wolf and druid who had, in the strangest of ways, utterly captured her heart.