Rescue
Northern Ocean - September 1508
One might think that being lost at sea in any ocean would feel the same. But there’s a world of difference between the frigid waters of the Arctic and the strange calm of the Northern Ocean. The latter was warmer—not warm by any means (just above 45 degrees Fahrenheit)—but noticeably less harsh.
Neik Klass wasn’t sure if his senses were numbing or if the water truly had warmed. The chest beneath him still bobbed in the swells, but the ocean had become oddly still. Gentle ripples replaced the towering waves. The sun hovered low on the horizon, refusing to set—a sign that he must be close to the North Pole.
Odd, Neik thought. No ice. No bergs. Just this eerie calm.
Then something disturbed the mirror surface.
A dark shape approached from the direction of the sun. Neik shaded his eyes, but the glare kept him from making out its form. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a boat. That much he could tell. He felt a ripple of unease. Nothing at sea, aside from boats, had ever offered him help.
The shape drew closer—fifty yards… then thirty… and finally, it breached the surface with a tremendous surge of water.
It was a whale. A truly massive one.
Neik blinked in awe. His shipmates had told stories about whales—some harmless, others aggressive. Smaller whales, especially those with teeth, would sometimes steal a catch—or worse, a man. But this creature was far larger than any he’d imagined, with smooth dark skin and barnacle-dotted flanks. It didn’t look aggressive, but it was coming straight for him.
“It might not be interested in eating me,” he murmured, “but it could still knock me off…”
Suddenly, with barely a splash, the whale surfaced just feet away. The sea chest rocked violently. Neik gasped as he found himself face to eye with the great beast. The creature’s eye alone was larger than his head—calm, ancient, intelligent.
Then came a low rumble. It vibrated through the water like a deep cello note. Was the whale… talking?
A high-pitched voice rang out from behind him. “Joorome wants to know if you’re out here on purpose or if you’re trying to get to land.”
Neik whirled. “Who said that? Am I hearing things?”
“It’s me, Amella. I’m right here,” the voice chimed again, now from a slightly different angle. “And as far as you going daft—I couldn’t say.”
Shifting his weight carefully on the wet chest, Neik finally spotted the speaker.
She was small. Tiny, really. A winged figure hovered just above the waterline, fluttering as if weightless.
“Who… what are you?” he asked, astonished.
The tiny figure tittered. “I’m a water fairy, silly! My name is Amella. And that,” she said proudly, gesturing toward the whale, “is my friend Joorome. He’s the one asking about your situation.”
Neik rubbed his eyes. Amella appeared to be about six inches tall, with delicate, butterfly-like wings and bright eyes. She wore what looked like a dress made of seaweed and glowed faintly, like moonlight on mist.
“Er… pleased to meet you, Miss Amella. I… yes, I’m adrift. My ship was destroyed in a storm. I think… I think I’m the only one left.”
Joorome rumbled again and sent a spray of mist from his blowhole.
“Joorome says he hasn’t heard of any ships sinking nearby lately,” said Amella, “but he’d be happy to take you to land, if you’d like.”
Neik blinked at the fairy, then turned back to the enormous eye watching him. “He’d… help me? I mean—thank you—but wouldn’t that be dangerous?”
The whale emitted a series of bubbling grunts. Amella giggled. “Oh, you’ve made him laugh! He says if he wanted you drowned, he wouldn’t be here talking. And anyway, it’s too far to swim, and there are no boats around. Plus, he says the water is too cold for your kind.”
Neik took a deep breath. “Then… yes. Please. If he’s willing.”
With that, Joorome slipped beneath the waves. Neik clung to the chest as the water around him surged—then rose. In moments, the chest lifted from the water’s surface, now resting steadily atop the broad, rubbery back of the whale.
“Whoa…” Neik murmured.
“Now you can sit up,” Amella advised as she flitted down and perched beside him. “Don’t worry. You won’t tip. Joorome’s back is more stable than any rowboat.”
They began to move—smoothly, quickly—cutting through the sea like a ship under sail.
“Where are we going?” asked Neik. “Norway? Iceland?”
He peered toward the horizon, hoping for a familiar coastline. But it felt like they were headed north, not south.
“Joorome says the land is called Evela by the folk who live there,” said Amella.
“Evela?” he echoed. “Is that… where you come from?”
The fairy giggled, brushing hair from her face with a dewdrop-sized hand. “Not really, silly! I’m not really here. This is just what you can see of me.” She passed her hand over her tiny body “I usually have a presence on or around Evela, although I don’t often talk with people. You’re lucky we found you. Most fairies never come this far out, and only a very few would be willing to help.”
“I’m grateful you did,” said Neik sincerely. “Thank you, Miss Amella. My name is Neik Klass.”
Amella dimpled. “Nice to meet you, Neik Klass. I’d offer you something to eat, but I only carry dewdrop cakes, and I doubt those would fill you up.” She glanced toward the horizon. “Don’t worry. You’ll get something warm once we reach Evela. Joorome is sure of it.”
Neik followed her gaze. A low shadow had appeared ahead, spreading wide beneath a veil of mist. It grew quickly—dark trees, jagged rocks, and a long stony shoreline. Forested hills rose beyond.
Soon, they were just a few hundred feet from land.
Without warning, Joorome slowed, then stopped. A gentle rocking returned as the whale sank beneath them once more, leaving the chest bobbing freely.
“This is as far as Joorome can take you,” said Amella. “He can’t go into shallow water. But don’t worry—the current will guide you in. You won’t need to swim much.”
She zipped into the air, turning toward her companion. Joorome had surfaced again, watching quietly from a safe distance.
“Good luck, Neik Klass!” she called. And with a final glimmer of wings and laughter, she vanished.
Neik gripped the edge of the chest as the waves nudged him toward the rocky shore—toward the beginning of something strange and new.