Wanderlust - Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Six years earlier
It was a perfect day for sailing. Warm and sunny with just the right amount of wind. The port was, as always, a busy place. Cargo was being loaded and unloaded, little fishing boats were heading out for the morning, and passengers were climbing up gangways. Moored a little way out, a huge warship gently swayed in the waves and watched over the comings and goings.
Tanden loved every part of it. He stood on one of the larger piers, watching sailors prepare a beautiful barquentine with three masts. His beautiful barquentine, one he'd commissioned from the finest shipbuilders in Crele. He'd helped with her design, picking out rich dark wood for her keel and masts. Her sails were dyed light blue. The spanker, the largest sail on the third mast, even had the black helm symbol to represent West Draulin. In case flying his home city's flag wasn't enough of an indication of where they were from.
There were two flags already fluttering at the top of the mainmast. West Draulin's, blue and white with the black helm, was on top. Zianna's yellow, white and blue flag flew just underneath it. Most cities would put the kingdom's flag higher, but West Draulin had a longstanding tradition of putting theirs first. After all, they did control the largest navy in the kingdom.
Tanden's favourite part of the ship was the figurehead. He'd designed it himself. It was a beautiful woman, representing the Crelan's mythical Ocean Queen. That much was common, most ships had women or mermaids as their figureheads, even if they didn't understand the origin. But Tanden's was a little more complicated. His Ocean Queen was wearing a necklace with two pendants, carved with the symbols of the Native Ziannan gods Roe and Tolle. It was an old Ziannan tradition to carve the symbols, a stylized fish and a circle with waves, into the hull of ships for good luck. Most people didn't remember it, but Tanden had done quite a bit of research. The last thing that made his Ocean Queen different was what she was holding. Instead of the common sword or trident or shell, she was holding a map that had been carefully carved to be as accurate as possible.
Tanden's brothers arrived with surprisingly little fanfare. Suddenly they were standing on either side of him, staring at his ship. Tandrael stood on his right. As always, Tanden's eldest brother, Lord West Draulin, looked impeccable. His clothing was clean and crisp, his long blue cloak fluttered majestically in the wind. Tandrael's beard was trimmed neatly, his hair was cut short. He wore an elaborate, decorative sword on his belt.
By comparison, Tandar looked a little rough around the edges. He was taller and broader than either of his brothers. For once he wasn't wearing his armour, and instead was dressed casually in a dark tunic and pants. The sword hanging from his belt was anything but decorative. He was a knight, part of King Zianna's personal guard. It was pure luck that he had been visiting West Draulin the same time Tanden was starting his voyage.
At nineteen, Tanden was quite a bit younger than his brothers, who were thirty-two and twenty-nine respectively. He didn't mind the age difference. Their parents had always had big plans for his older brothers. Tanden had managed to slip through the cracks. He'd gone to the Order, just as every young lord who wasn't inheriting a city did, but then he'd been free to do whatever he wanted. And what he wanted was a ship.
It was something to rival his brothers, at least in some small way. A ship for Tandrael's city and a crew for Tandar's soldiers. A different title – Captain, instead of Lord or Sir. Tanden wanted to be different. To have something entirely his own for the first time in his life.
Tandar broke the silence, his voice gruff. "What's it called?"
"She's called the WDN Wanderlust," Tanden replied. "Don't pretend you don't know ships are women. I know you've been living in Zianna for years now but you're from a port city."
"I never liked ships," Tandar grumbled, eyeing the Wanderlust warily, as if he expected the ship to reach onto the pier and grab him.
Tandrael cleared his throat. "Are you sure you want to do this? Maybe you should spend some time with Roland before heading out on your own to Goddess knows where."
"Goddess knows where?" Tanden repeated. "I told you, I'm just going to be running supplies between Zianna and the islands until I get the hang of things, and then I'll go to Navire and Deorun. I've hired an excellent crew, and I don't need Roland to watch over me like I'm a five-year-old who's never been to sea."
Tandrael sighed. "I didn't mean to imply – "
"I've spent more of my life on a ship than both of you combined. I know how to handle her."
"You could at least bring your guard along," Tandrael said, but there was a resigned tone to his voice. They'd had this argument many times.
"I've already helped them find new posts, getting them back now would be a hassle. Besides, they're soldiers, not sailors."
"We're just worried, little brother. Can you blame us?" Tandar asked. "When you were born, father and mother made it abundantly clear to us that we were meant to protect you. And when they died, it was up to Rael to make sure you followed through at the Order."
"As my brother and my lord, I know," Tanden sighed. "I know. And I did follow through." He waved his right hand to remind his brothers of the gold and black ring he wore on his thumb. "But now I'm free. Father and mother never had plans for me." He glanced at his brothers in turn. "You got the city, and you rescue damsels."
Tandar cocked an eyebrow. "You think I rescue damsels?"
"Wouldn't you? If you came across one that needed rescuing?"
"Of course, but – "
"Regardless," Tandrael spoke over them and they both fell silent. "Tanden, you did excellent work at the Order. I've read all of your reports. The ease in which you pick up languages is astounding. Are you sure you wouldn't be happy working as an ambassador?"
"Just because I can speak Navirian and Deoran, doesn't mean I want to be stuck in stuffy meeting rooms," Tanden pointed out.
"I still think you just want to sleep your way through the navy," Tandar said, feigning seriousness.
Tanden shot his brother a look. "I don't sleep with everyone I come across and you know it."
"Don't let him rile you up, Tanden," Tandrael said, ever the peacekeeper between the brothers. "I know we can't convince you to stay in West Draulin." With a patient smile, he gestured at the Wanderlust. "It's a little late to change your mind now. All I ask is that you be careful and you send word often. Or better yet, check in. Tandrin adores you and I want Tandrix to actually get to know his insane uncle."
"The boy's barely a month old."
"Exactly. Which is why you'll need to visit often."
Tanden sighed and smiled. "All right, Rael. I planned to visit often anyway. As long as Tandar's in Zianna when I stop by."
Tandar gave him a friendly shove, but misjudged his strength and almost knocked Tanden over. Tandar barely moved when Tanden tried to shove him in retaliation. In response, Tandar draped his arm over his little brother's shoulders and pulled him in close for a hug.
"Be careful. Keep a sword within reach at all times, understand?"
"I've taken quite well to the cutlass," Tanden mumbled into his brother's shoulder. The hug was so tight he could hardly breathe.
Tandar held him at arm's length. "Cutlasses are not real swords."
Tanden shrugged. "I'll keep a broadsword in my quarters, then."
Before Tandar could reply, Tandrael tugged Tanden into a much gentler hug. "If you don't check in I will send Roland after you."
"I'll check in," Tanden promised.
"Good." Tandrael released him. "We've got gifts for you." He raised his hand.
From somewhere down the pier, Roland appeared. Roland was Tandrael's closest friend, and, although Tanden would never admit it, one of his idols. A Crelan who had actually grown up on Crele Island, Roland was the epitome of the culture Tanden found so fascinating. He spoke with a distinct Middle Crelan accent, he wore the typical long nautical jacket, and he had dark tattoos swirling down both of his arms.
Roland was carrying a crate, and behind him came one of his sailors carrying a cage. He set down his box and reached into the cage to pull out a small cat. It was entirely black, with one yellow eye and one blue eye. Tanden gently took it from Roland's hands. It squirmed in his grasp for a moment, then settled as he adjusted his grip.
"Every good ship needs a cat," Roland explained. "Good luck, aye? This little lady's my cat's daughter, actually."
"What's her name?" Tanden asked.
"Hasn't got one yet, mate. Whatever you'd like."
Tanden looked down at the little cat. "I'll call her Journey."
Roland nodded. "Aye, that's a good name. Pass her off to Rael for a moment." He was the only person outside of their family who called Tandrael by his shortened name. Not even Tandrael's knights used it. Tanden handed Journey to his brother and watched as Roland pulled a long dark blue jacket from the crate. "This here's your very own Crelan nautical jacket."
Tanden immediately loved it. He took it from Roland and pulled it on, marvelling at how well it fit and how real it made being a captain feel. "This is perfect."
"It was Tandar's idea," Tandrael said. "See, he's not as disappointed in your life choices as he pretends to be."
"I know, I can see right through him," Tanden said, flashing Tandar a grin. "Thank you. It really is perfect."
"And then there's this, " Roland pulled out a bottle of wine. Very expensive wine, Tanden could tell, definitely from the family's collection.
Tanden accepted the bottle. "We couldn't use cheap wine and save this to drink?"
"It's an important tradition, mate. We'll use the best available," Roland said. "Get your sailors."
Tanden grinned. "Aye, Captain Roland." As he climbed up the gangway, he could hear Roland chuckling. He hopped onto the deck and almost instantly had most of his sailors' attention. He had hired good men, after all.
"Lads!" he shouted to get the attention of the rest of them. "It's time to get our lady properly blessed. Gather round!" He hopped up onto the bulwark, the railing that ran around the deck, and looped his left arm through the shrouds. His brothers, Roland, and the sailors all gathered in front of him on the deck.
"Lads, esteemed guests – " Tanden nodded at his brothers. "Here we are, on the first day of our adventure. Aye, our Lady Wanderlust has already sailed across the ocean on her way to me, but this here's her new home berth and this will be her first time sailing away from it." He paused to yank the cork from the wine bottle. "We ask the Goddess' blessing on our journey and every journey to follow! We ask the Old God of the Sea – " he paused to allow his Crelan crewmembers a chance to cheer. They weren't used to Teltans acknowledging their beliefs. " - for safe waters. We ask Roe for swift currents and we ask Tolle to calm her husband's temper." There were no Natives on board, but he liked the idea of asking the Native gods for their blessing, anyway. It couldn't hurt. "And finally, we ask the Sailor King and the Ocean Queen to guide our hands, to ensure we never slip, to keep our navigation steady and true. To the Wanderlust! And so the adventure begins!" Tanden leaned back to pour the wine into the ocean while the crew cheered.
Across the port, a small schooner was getting ready to set sail with a cargo of crops for the city of Triben. An older man stood on the deck with a list, checking to ensure they had everything they were meant to be transporting.
A young Crelan was standing on the dock, watching the process and trying to work up the courage to walk up the gangway. He held two notes in his hand. One of them was still folded and sealed, the other was open, and he stared down at it. Checking for the umpteenth time to ensure he'd found the right ship. The ship's name was painted in white letters, the Hiraeth. There was no mistaking it. He took a deep breath, crumpled up the note, and climbed up the gangway.
The older man noticed him after a moment. "Who're you?"
"Soren." The young Crelan said, stepping forward and offering his hand.
The older man shook it. "What can I do for you, lad?"
"I think you knew my father," Soren explained. "Govert?"
"Aye, Govert and I worked together once, must've been nearly twenty years ago now! How is he?"
Soren swallowed away a pang of sadness. "He's dead. He got sick, and... he wrote me this note, to give to you." He held out the unopened note.
The older man unfolded it and read it quickly. "Ah, he wanted me to give you a job. I can do that, lad. How old are you?"
"Fourteen, sir. Almost fifteen." Soren squared his shoulders and tried to look strong. He wasn't a small boy, never had been, but he wanted the man to think he could be useful. If he didn't get the job, he would have to find somewhere else to work. That wouldn't necessarily be hard, but working on a merchant ship was better than joining one of the fishing boats.
"Fourteen's plenty old enough to work on a ship," the older man said. "We've just got to talk to my son. I'm trainin' him to take over as captain. Where is he... Tolly!" he walked across the deck and Soren trailed behind him. "Toliver!"
"'m right here, pa." A man in his early twenties appeared on the deck, having just hopped down from the rigging. "What d'you want, then?"
His father smacked the back of his head. "You ain't the captain yet, Tolly. You'll respect me."
Toliver flinched. "Aye, sorry," he mumbled.
"Better. This lad is joinin' the crew. Soren. He's the son of an old friend of mine. Show him around. Get him on record. Once the cargo's all loaded we'll be headin' out."
"Aye, Captain."
"Good lad." The man pat his son on the shoulder and walked back over to the cargo.
Soren watched him go, instantly missing his presence. He had been friendly enough, but Toliver was eyeing Soren in a way that made him uncomfortable. He understood instantly that even though Toliver wasn't the captain, he wasn't someone to annoy, either. Soren stood still and accepted the inspection, all the while trying not to stare back.
After an agonizingly long moment, Toliver nodded briskly. "Right, then. Soren. Welcome aboard the Hiraeth. We ain't no West Draulin Navy ship, but we're pretty well off, I reckon. Follow me." Toliver strode away and Soren hurried to follow. As they walked, other sailors greeted Toliver with nods, or moved out of his way. He was respected. He'd make a good captain when his father retired.
Toliver led him into the captain's quarters, where he sat down behind the desk and flipped open a large ledger. Soren stood awkwardly in front of the desk and crossed his arms. "Soren," Toliver said slowly as he wrote down the name. "What's your sailing experience, mate?"
"Worked on fishing boats when I was little, did some time on a navy ship last year with my pa. Before he got sick."
Toliver glanced up. "Something contagious?"
Soren shook his head. "Something inside, wasn't contagious."
"Good. So if something happens to you, where're we sending your money and belongings? Your mother?"
"No, she's also dead. Soon after I was born."
"Any family?"
Soren shrugged. "Maybe some cousins back on Crele. Reckon you just keep my money and toss my belongings."
"Simple. I like it." Toliver made a note in the ledger. "Ever been to the Island?"
The Island. When said by a Crelan to another Crelan, it only meant Crele. No other island counted. "Aye. Last year with my pa. When I got my tattoo done."
Toliver nodded appreciatively. "The tattoo places here are shit compared to the ones on the Island. Well, like I said, welcome. Make yourself useful and you'll likely have a permanent place on the Hiraeth. My pa's retirin' after this next run, but I'll be keepin' on his crew 'long as everyone does their share."
"I'll do my share."
"Glad to hear it." Toliver left the ledger open so the ink could dry and stood up. "We'd best get back outside. Keep out of the way for this launch, we'll get you sorted out once we're out on the water."
Soren was happy to oblige. He followed Toliver onto the deck, then hung back out of the way while the ship was launched. Toliver gave the orders while his father stood nearby and watched, nodding in approval. The sailors worked efficiently to undo the mooring lines and lower the sails, and soon they were clear of the docks and piers. Once things had settled down a bit Soren climbed onto the quarter deck to stand as near to Toliver as he thought he could without seeming annoying.
There was something he instantly liked about Toliver. It might have been the way he held himself, or the command he had over the crew. He was a natural captain and Soren could admire that, but there was more to it. Toliver was the type of young Crelan who wasn't afraid to flaunt his culture. Traditional tattoos swirled down both his arms, and the open collar of his tunic showed dark lines across his chest as well. Soren's tattoo went across his shoulders and covered his entire back, but he hadn't gotten it down his arms. His father had told him that he would get more respect from the Teltans if his tattoo was easy to hide. But there was something attractive about not caring and not trying to hide it.
"Would'ya look at that!" Toliver whistled, drawing Soren from his thoughts. "That's a beautiful ship."
Soren followed his gaze. Moored off of one of the larger piers was a long ship with three masts. Soren couldn't quite figure out what it was, the rigging looked odd. The older man—his Captain, Soren reminded himself—walked across the deck to lean against the bulwark near him. After a moment Soren joined him.
"What is she?" he asked tentatively, not wanting to seem stupid, but too curious to keep quiet.
"Looks like a barque, maybe," the captain replied. "She's a beauty, that's for sure. The port's been talkin' about nothin' else ever since she arrived, fresh from Crele. One of the Tandrans bought her. She's set to sail out today, I think. Wait, listen."
Sound travelled really well over the water. Soren could hear a voice from the ship and could make out what seemed like the end of the speech.
"And so the adventure begins!"
Then the crew on the beautiful ship cheered. He and the Captain watched as a man on the other ship leaned backwards and poured what looked like wine into the water. When the man hopped down onto the deck, the captain clapped Soren on the shoulder.
"Well, lad, let's put you to work. Give me the helm, Tolly. Figure out what your newest crewmember is going to do."
Toliver stepped aside so his father could take the helm. "Aye. Come on, Soren. I'd kill to work on a ship like that," he muttered to himself, glancing back towards the beautiful ship.
Soren followed him down the stairs to the main deck. The other man's words kept repeating themselves in his head. An adventure sounded like an excellent way to move past his grief over his father's death. Anything to get away from West Draulin and the memories of caring for his dying father and not being able to do anything to stop it.
And so, Soren thought to himself firmly, the adventure begins.