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Balduran lay on his back on a large piece of floating debris. The bobbing motion felt soothing as he looked up at a partly cloudy sky. He could not tell if it was nearly dawn, or dusk. He turned his head, and thought he saw a glimmer of light in the distance.
‘Balduran,’ a voice whispered in his mind.
He focused again. Large pieces of broken wood and several crates floated around him. He drifted out of consciousness.
***
“Please tell me you didn’t use your entire inheritance from your father on this floating wreckage?” The tall, elegant elf woman asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, yes. But come on, seriously Mom, what do you think?” Balduran asked.
“Sweetheart, I think you got swindled,” she said, tucking her long white-blonde hair behind her pointed ears.
It was a crisp spring morning and they were standing in Grey Harbor’s shipyards. Several other ships were tied up along the docks in various states of repair. He heard a flock of gulls pass by, calling for food. He turned back to his mother.
“Mom, this is a great ship. I’m going to travel everywhere with her!” Balduran said, throwing his arm around her, squeezing her tight. “The ship has good bones.”
“Yes, because that will all be left of you when you take her out. This is a coffin.”
Balduran gave her a pointed look, then stepped aboard the large ship. He heard his mother following him, then grunt as she put her foot through a deck board. Balduran quickly helped her up. She growled at him, rolling her silver eyes. She dusted off her loose cotton pants and walked over to one of the masts, where she began to tighten loose halyards. Then she checked the rigging. She glanced back at Balduran, shaking her head.
“Where are the sails?”
“I have to get those made,” he said, looking up at the three masts.
“Sweetheart, you are probably going to have to replace the mizzen mast, if not the main one too,” she said. “And did you notice, you have no helm.”
“Everyone’s a critic,” he said. “Follow me, let me show you the quarters.”
Balduran and his mother watched a couple of rats scurry across the deck and up one of the thicker lines. He glanced back at his mother, whose arms were crossed.
“I’ll just get a couple of cats,” Balduran said. Before she could respond, he shuffled down below the deck.
***
Balduran opened his eyes again, realizing the light he saw was the sun peeking over the mountains from the nearby shoreline. The clouds above him, however, were very ominous. He rolled over and coughed. He collapsed against the wood.
‘Balduran,’ the voice said in his mind again. He thought he saw someone sitting next to him. He drifted out of consciousness again.
***
Balduran heard the sound of lightning hitting the deck. Then screams, as the mizzen mast fell on a few sailors, pinning them.
“Captain! We can’t take much more!” His first mate called out, through the icy rain. Another lightning flash lit up the sky.
“Everyone, get your after waterskins on!” He called out. He wrapped a line around the helm, securing it to a nearby cleat to hold it in place. With his hands free, he quickly tightened his waterskin to his chest and prayed.
Then another lighting bolt hit the bow of the ship. More shouting. The icy rain was relentless. It felt like needles piercing his skin. He pulled his long white-blonde hair back into a top knot and covered his head with his hood. It didn’t matter, nothing was dry anymore.
The line on the helm broke free and he grabbed the wheel before the ship could come about on its own. Holding the ship steady, he saw more of his crew run across the deck, attempting to lift the fallen mast from their pinned crewmates.
“ROGUE WAVE!!” Someone yelled. Balduran turned and saw the largest wave of his life. It was like a mountain of water coming straight for them.
***
Balduran opened his eyes again, coughing himself awake. He looked around and sat up. He realized he was floating on what was left of the stern of his ship. He glided his hand over the name chiseled into the wood and painted a bright amethyst, The Wandering Eye. He rubbed his eyes and looked over his shoulder to the mountains, noticing the shoreline was on the horizon. He could not judge how far he was. He hung his head.
“Red sky at night, sailor’s delight,” a man’s voice said next to him.
Balduran turned his head and saw a young elf sitting next to him. His white-blonde hair was long and pulled into a low tail. His skin was tanned, and a scar crossed his nose. He looked familiar.
“I know your voice,” he said.
“Finish the old sailor’s saying,” the elf demanded.
“Red sky morning, sailor’s take warning ,” he sighed, voice scratchy as he moved to find a better sitting position.
“Look at the sky. It’s bloody red,” he said and pointed out toward the hazy red sky.
The elf’s bright silver eyes shone with disappointment. He was handsome, maybe he was a siren? Balduran smiled at him.
The elf slapped him.
“Ow!” He said as he rubbed his cheek.
“Stop thinking about me and focus! Access your situation,” the elf said.
“Okay, you don’t have to get violent,” Balduran grumbled, rubbing his cheek. Definitely not a siren, he thought.
The elf raised his eyebrow and waited. Balduran sighed. “I was on my ship. There was an electrical storm. It was rough. Then there was a wave. It must have broken apart the ship.”
“Good. No brain damage, you remember what happened,” he scolded him, then snapped his fingers. “Go on sailor, what do you need?”
“Water,” he looked around and saw a jug floating nearby. He moved his leg and reached for the jug. He accidentally kicked it, making it float further from his grasp.
“Hey, kiddo,” he said, pointing at the waterskin strapped to his chest.
“Right,” he said, checking the cork. It was still tightly sealed. He popped it open and took a long pull.
“Next? Where were you when the wave hit?” the elf asked.
Balduran closed his eyes. He could see the navigation map in his head. “We were south of Waterdeep, heading back home.”
“How do you feel?”
“Aside from getting slapped?” he said, incredulously.
“Injuries? Are you bleeding?” the elf asked, sighing.
Balduran checked his body and saw that, aside from feeling dehydrated, he was fine. He looked back at the elf, who was sitting with his arms folded.
“Wait, am I dead?” Balduran asked.
The elf splashed cold water on him.
“Stop it!” He said, wiping his face.
“Come on, think! How far is the shore?”
“If you know, why don’t you tell me?” Balduran folded his arms like a petulant child.
The elf mirrored his look and said, “Kiddo, I can wait all day. I’m not the one floating on the wreckage of my own ship.”
Balduran sighed and rolled his eyes, then looked back at the shoreline. It was a lot closer than he first accessed. He could swim for it, but maybe using his legs to kick his raft would be better. He slipped into the water and began kicking. The elf crossed his legs and smiled at him.
“Happy now?” Balduran asked.
“Maybe, but don’t wear yourself out. Pace yourself,” the elf said.
“I really don’t need advice from someone in my head,” he grumbled.
“Fine, I’m just trying to save your life,” the elf said and looked back at the shore.
“Your approach reminds me of my father,” he said, continuing to kick, they moved closer to the shore. But after a while, he grew tired. He finally had to stop and the elf helped him up onto the broken stern. He took another pull from his waterskin. He was much closer to the shoreline.
Balduran glanced at the elf. He was wearing black leather pants, a jerkin, and a fur lined cloak. His clothing looked worn and well used.
“Why were you out in that storm?” The elf asked.
“We got a tip on some treasure,” he finally said.
“Where?”
“I’m not going to tell you?” He snapped back, making a face.
The elf glared at him.
Balduran sighed, realizing he was not really there and answered, “a place called Moonrise.”
“And then what? Come home victorious?”
“That was the idea,” he mumbled and looked back at the shoreline.
“Heads up. The next set of waves are going to be big, I would hold on,” the elf said.
The waves were big and he got pounded a bit, eventually tumbling off his makeshift raft. He swam back to it and the elf helped him up again. The waves finally pushed them closer to shore, and his makeshift raft rode them to the beach.
Balduran stumbled out of the water and collapsed on the sand in a heap. He was tired. The elf stood over him with his hands on his hips.
“You don’t have time to rest. You have to make a fire and shelter,” he said.
Balduran knew the elf was right. He sighed, grabbing the offered hand as he got back to his feet. He looked around at the beach and started to survey what he could use.
They spent most of the dreary day putting together his little camp, with a makeshift tent that was part sail and part plank from his ship’s deck. He tore strips of sail to make a blanket and bedroll for himself, then built a bonfire. He was lucky a few more crates of goods washed up on shore and he found a couple of bottles of mead, a sack of citrus and apples.
By the time they were done he was thoroughly exhausted, but pleased at what they accomplished. He sat down in front of the fire and pulled off his tunic, feeling the warmth on his chest. He looked out at the sunset, the colors were orange, pink, and amethyst. The prospect of a clear night made him smile. Then he thought of his crew and sadness fell upon him. He felt the touch of the elf’s hand on his back.
“I’m sorry about your crew,” the elf said, quietly.
He turned to the elf, who gave him a familiar half smile. Balduran had been so young when he died at sea, he had nearly forgotten what he looked like.
“Dad?” He asked with a sad smile. He immediately fell against his father’s shoulder and wept. His father wrapped him in his arms. He cried for his crew, his ship, and all his plans.
“Don’t let this setback break your spirit, my son,” his father whispered. “You are a survivor.”
Balduran finally took a deep breath and broke their embrace.
“Get some sleep, I’ll take the first watch,” his father said.
He realized his father was right again, he was very tired. His father sat beside him. Balduran turned his head toward him. He had so many questions but mostly just wanted to spend as much time as he could with his father. But his eyes were so heavy and he drifted off to sleep.
***
Balduran and his mother stood on the dock, looking at the ship.
“Ok, see your vision. I think your father would be proud of what you are doing,” she said. “I saved a little gold, you can start with that.”
“Mom, I don’t want you to do that, but thank you. I’m going to make that up in no time. I know this ship is my ticket to greatness,” he said.
“Is that so?” She asked, with a grin.
“I’m gonna bring back more gold than anyone has ever seen. Make this sleepy village a real city. And I’m going to build you a huge mansion and you will never have to braid lines or sew sails again,” he stated. His mother chucked.
Then he jumped up on a nearby crate, spreading his arms out and declared, “people are going to know the name Balduran! I’m gonna be a legend!”
***
The following morning he woke, feeling sunlight streaming through his makeshift tent. The bonfire was still crackling. He looked around, but his father was gone. He left the tent, there was no sign of him.
“Thanks Dad,” he said, looking out to sea.