For the Waterlogged

Written by World Smithy

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I'm not old enough to drink like the grown ups, but mister Oradim said it's ok if I do it today. He told me that seven years ago after he hauled me out of the sea, clutching onto a shattered board. Was hardly more than eight at the time, just a scared and lost child. I still don't drink like they do, but, for today? I pour one out, and raise another high just for you, as you march through that Great Beneath. May you find that long-lost and ever-verdant Peace. Put in a good word for me, will you?

— A short, tear-stained entry in Piper's diary

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The winters in Aurora were cruel, bitter, and terribly cold, doubly so for Infernals like me and my older brother, Sylros. The people there are the same as the icy winds of the Zurivela Tundra, the only difference being that they went out of their way to threaten and hurt us. Sylros had enough when I came home with knife wounds on my arms and tears and blood frozen to my purple cheeks. I remember he took me into his arms and cried with me that morning in the earthen cellar where the parents kept us, away from prying eyes. We decided then and there that anywhere was better than home.

Within a week, my arms had scabbed over beneath their thin bandages and I had turned eight years old. Sylros, at the risk of his own life, had stolen small amounts of food from the village's stockpile every day since I came back injured. He kept it all near what we planned to steal at the next dawn: The Templar. It was Aurora's only functioning icebreaker, and our ticket out of there in the dead of winter. We wouldn't be the only ones embarking on this endevor, thankfully, as some twenty other kids wanted a chance at a better life.

The fishmonger's apprentice, an elvish boy named Tannis, was chosen by the wider group as the captain since he was the only one that had ever actually been on the ship. And so, we all stole away from our parents in the early morning, Dawn barely peeking her head above the horizon to greet us. Sylros had already knocked out The Templar's true captain, an old and haggard dwarf whose name I forgot, with a wooden mallet and we all ran up the gangplank. Tannis knew that the ship was coal powered, or something, so he ran down below to start the ship's aged and salt-encrusted boiler.

I can't remember much else from that morning, as the rest of it was kind of a blur. Angry screams and shouts called out after The Templar, a handful begging their precious children to come back. Some parents that followed the commotion kneeled in the waist high snow and wept, resigned to never see us again. One man tried to jump into the icy waters after us, but a lanky elf was able to pull him back from the brink. I didn't feel bad for them, not a single one—not even my own. They were all just as evil as Grandma Frostchain, the malicious and wicked witch that held our little Aurora in her clutches for as long as anyone could remember.

But it was all over, we got out, far away from there. No one, nothing could ever hurt us like that anymore—or so we thought in the beginning, anyway. The first week at sea was fine, I think. I was really hungry most of the time, but Tannis said it was gonna be okay and that we had enough food to last until we found a dark sea called the Kall-ee-dare and proper land. Sylros told me to play with the handful of other younger kids to pass the time, since I had forgotten to pack my meager art supplies when we left. All I could manage to do was to stare at the broken ice around the ship though. I wish I could have drawn that ice—it was so pretty under all of the flickering lantern lights.

Sometime during the second week, The Templar had sailed closer to the coastline again, as we could see the rocky shores of the tundra. Seals, walruses, and these weird black vines dotted the landscape. It was kinda scary when the vines would grab a wandering animal and it would scream for a minute before it went silent again. I tried not to be on deck when we were close enough to see them. The worst part about the second week though was when a strange and sourceless humming sound started to echo all around the ship.

I felt really weird when the humming started, like I wanted to go look at the water over the side of the boat. It was black and murky, and there were a bunch of bubbles coming up all around us. I guess we finally got into that Kall-ee-dare Sea that Tannis spoke of. It felt like something, someone, was calling to me, beckoning me to jump into the water below. I never did, 'cause I was too scared to. An albino, human boy did, though. I think his name was... Ulrenn? Only his carved necklace made of old driftwood remained on the surface.

After he went overboard, two more kids followed in his wake. I didn't really know them, but I remember their faces. Their eyes were doll-like and glassy, and their mouths were frozen in place, hanging slightly open. Nothing of theirs stayed on the surface of the sea, though, 'cause when they hit the water something big and glowing green dragged them down. I was left there, horrified and frozen in place, just staring at the only remnant of three children lost at sea. Sylros found me maybe five minutes after and ushered me down below. I didn't see the sky again 'til a storm blew through a day later, the same day I met the raven man: Old Whisper Beak.

That's the same day that I lost everyone, too. It started out as nothing more than a light drizzle, tapping away at the top deck while I dozed down below. The thunder rolled in soon after, shaking the wooden beams apart as it threatened to split the reinforced steel near the bow with it's deafening cracks. Lightning struck the main mast up above, and I heard it shatter and splinter, crashing into the deck before it broke off into the ebony sea below. Then came their screams—oh, Spark, their screams—ringing throughout the entire ship.

I joined their symphony, the orchestra that was splitting our hope, our stolen ship, apart. Water rushed in under the door to my cabin and, seconds later, so too did Sylros as it opened. His hands were bloody, and he was breathing heavy. He was soaked and he couldn't move his left arm; it looked like a massive shard of wood embedded itself into his shoulder. My senses were overwhelmed with sheer terror when he found me, and I could hardly hear him calling my name—Piper, Piper... Piper!—over the rushing winds and water.

I jumped up and out of the rocking hammock and ran through the ankle-high water towards him. My arms wrapped around his torso in a tight, desperate hug as the port window to the cabin exploded in a maelstrom of glass. The dark waters of the sea rushed in faster then, and Sylros had to haul me out of the room as if I were an anchor tied to his gut. I didn't mean to be a burden, I didn't intend to slow us down, I didn't want to die! My legs eventually found their strength, and we were able to make it to the top deck where the rain sliced through the unfamiliar hot and humid air. We saw no one there, not a soul, but we heard shouting from the stern where the lifeboat was kept. They were leaving us!

We heard the life boat splash against the umbral sea above the storm and our slapping footsteps against the soaked boards. When we reached the stern's railing, we saw them floating off behind us, leaving us—damning us—to whatever the Aspect of Fate had in store for us. Sylros put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently to ground me, to remind me that I wasn't alone. Through my tears and the railing from where I knelt, I saw what Fate had in store for the other children. A giant wave swelled up from the depths, its crest of white foam glistening in the moonlight. It crashed down on them like a shadowy monster from the abyss, swallowing them whole and dragging them beneath.

Steel all around The Templar groaned at the pressure applied to it from the storm and the gut-wrenching screech of shearing metal made our bones vibrate. The ship was being split in two under the weight of the water below deck. Waves lapped up and over the sides of the boat as if they were the fingers of some hungry beast trying to eat us. I don't really remember what happened afterwards, 'cause the ship snapped and buckled, throwing me against a wall where I hit my head pretty bad. I just remember waking up under dim morning light, clutching tightly to a broken plank amidst a lonely debris field.

I was so hungry, and my legs ached from being submerged for so long. I managed to paddle over to a few other splintered boards and climb on top of them, holding them together with my tired body. Salt burned the inside of my mouth, and my vision was bleary from lingering sea water. I layed there on those boards the whole day, grasping at the slick planks with all my might so that I didn't fall into the drink. Fish with glowing green growths on them swam beneath me, their bodies leaving a faint glowing trail behind them. I'll never forget when the blue jellyfish started to appear all around me, blinking up through the darkness like stars through the Veil. They were beautiful...

I was nodding in and out of consciousness, hardly keeping my makeshift raft together as piece by piece the planks slipped from my fingers. Tears stained my cheeks, baked into my skin from the dim sunlight poking through the overcast sky above. Right as I was ready to give up and surrender to the sea, I heard a loud, tolling bell echo somewhere behind me. There was a ship! One that wasn't sunk! I cried out, screaming against the sloshing waters in the hopes that they'd hear me—find me. They did, and they hauled me up in a big net like a drowned rat. I'll never forget the day mister Oradim and his crew saved me.