Chapter Twenty-Four

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Ara was fairly confident that Navirian tradition was to cremate their dead, so that their spirits could join the fiery goddess of their afterlife. That sounded right to Soren, and they built a proper pyre for Starios, all the while hoping it was the right thing to do. As they dragged wood from the bonfires to make the pyre, they also looked through any remains of food or drink from the celebration, eating whatever was still edible. There wasn't too much else that was useful, but Soren found a small knife on one of the pirates' bodies, and after an unpleasant moment of thought, he took the man's boots.

Ara whispered a few words as Soren carried Starios' body to the pyre and lit it. They stood together in silence, watching the pyre burn. As eager as Soren was to keep moving, to get the Waterborne and access her damage, he needed to watch the flames grow. His hand found Ara's and squeezed, even as his eyes focused on the fire. Starios deserved a moment of respect.

But it couldn't last too long. Once the pyre had consumed the body, Soren had to move on to the next task. He stripped off his tunic before wading into the water, leaving Ara waiting on the shore. Swimming out to the Wanderlust's wreck was more emotionally draining than Soren had anticipated. Staring forward at her exposed and charred hull ached. Soren tried to focus on the Waterborne instead, but he couldn't simply not see the ship looming behind her.

He carefully hoisted himself into the Waterborne. Her port side was being pulled under the water by rope, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset the delicate balance that was keeping her afloat. Without moving, he cast a practiced eye over her. The collapsible mast had been yanked out of its socket, but that could be fixed. The rigging looked mostly intact, and her sails were still tied neatly.

Soren glanced back towards the beach. Ara was hovering near the bodies of Povic and Folti, and Soren gave him what he hoped was an encouraging wave. Ara waved back. So far, so good.

Soren moved cautiously, every footfall carefully thought out as he crossed over to the Waterborne's port side. His eyes found the ropes attaching the cutter to the ship, and to his dismay he saw that the knots were underwater. He had the pirate's small knife in his pocket, but he didn't like cutting ropes unless it was absolutely necessary.

He slipped into the water between the Waterborne and the Wanderlust's damaged bow. Diving under the water, he looped his fingers around the rope and followed it until he felt the knot. He could tie and untie knots in his sleep, so the knot itself didn't cause too much of a problem, even if the water had swollen the rope slightly.

Soren came up for air, then repeated the process with the second rope. Then the Waterborne was floating free and low in the water.

He paused before climbing into the cutter. Gentle waves were already pushing her slowly towards the shore. Soren watched her for a moment, treading water, then turned around.

He felt like he needed to say something, as he reached out to lay a hand on the Wanderlust's burned hull. All he could think of were the simple Crelan words he had said for the sailors.

"West Draulin Navy Wanderlust," he whispered. "Traveller, wanderer, home. You have earned your place with the Old God of the Sea."

When he drew his hand back, damp clumps of ash stuck to his hand. Water and fire, both so dangerous to a wooden ship. Soren slipped his hand under the water and watched the clumps rinse off, then turned and swam after the floundering Waterborne.

Upon catching up, he unhooked one of the oars and partially rowed, partially steered, the cutter to the beach. Ara helped tug her onto the sand so she wouldn't move as they worked to get her ready to sail. Together, they lifted the mast back into position. Then Soren made sure all the ropes were in order while Ara bailed out the water with a battered tankard.

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