She rose from the bed, taking a moment to judge the swaying of the ship before moving towards the steps.

"I'm coming with you," Athgar announced.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "It's likely to be rough out there."

"Someone has to keep you safe," he said.

"I can look after myself," she bristled, then softened her tone. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. I welcome your presence, but I'm not sure what help you'll be up there."

She halted at the steps, looking up the ladder, a steep angle to climb, but the planks were wide, making it more sure-footed. Stepping up, she grabbed the hatch handle above, bracing herself for what was to come.

Athgar thought her absurd to go out in this weather but withheld his comments. He watched as she pushed the hatch upward and a wash of water cascaded down, drenching her. At least the water in these parts was warm.

Natalia gasped for air, her breath briefly taken from her. The ship pitched, and she held onto the ladder with a vice-like grip, waiting for it to right itself once again. Taking another breath, she then climbed up, the rain lashing down, stinging her with its force as she staggered across the deck, heading for the mainmast.

The bow drove into an immense wave, pitching the nose upward. Rising on the crest, it peaked, then suddenly dipped, throwing Natalia from her feet as the deck dropped from beneath her. She rose a foot or two, then crashed down, her limbs askew, only to be pushed across the deck as more water rushed from the port side when another wave crashed against the hull. She grabbed the railing in desperation as the water tried to carry her out into the sea.

Athgar was now halfway out of the hatch and clinging on for dear life. A giant wave loomed nearby, threatening to smash the Swift to pieces, but the ship rose as it approached, riding upward once again. He could see Natalia clutching the rail, drenched through and through and knew, in this weather, she would be incapable of casting while her hands were engaged.

As he waited for the giant wave, he felt the heave, that feeling of being lifted into the air. The Swift rode the crest for a moment and then the inevitable plunging as the tiny vessel rushed for the trough. Athgar moved out, his bare feet planted firmly on deck, gripping as best they could. He rushed for the railing, grabbing it just as another wave swept over them, the cruel sea trying to pluck them from their precarious position.

Natalia was yelling something to him, but the wind and rain carried it away. He edged closer, going hand over hand along the railing until he was beside her. She grabbed his hand, yelling above the roar of the sea.

"I have to cast," she called out, "but I need to hang on to something."