Be still and know.
As the boat drifted steadily across the lake, inching ahead with the rhythmic echo of the breeze, a light fog settled around them. Mount Hallow’s peak faded and the sky turned the colour of the silver mist over the water.
The compass. Gen remembered, and dug through his canvas bag. As he used it to orient and find their bearings, Gen hopped onto the shallow platform where the mast was to adjust the sail. A straight path toward the East.
Jovin was at the bow, leaning on the ledge, staring into the nothingness of the fog. He looked so lonely. He was less alone than he was before, yes; but it didn’t make his life any less lonely. Family, freedom, future...were the things at stake in this quest. But he struggled to see how his life fit into any of that. His beginnings were different, his path was different, and at the end of it all, he wondered if his life would be any different. Would there be a place for him? Or would he remain a wandering vagrant hiding out in places no man dared settle?
He saw his life in the reflection of what was ahead. The irony was found in the lack of penetrating light, for what loomed over the water was a murky cloud. Yet pieces of his past jumped out at him from the depths of the haze like stravaiging phantoms on benighted paths. It was muddled and mysterious, dark and hidden, foggy and forgotten.
Then came the first of the rains, pelting light on the onset before descending like an onslaught amidst clashes of thunder. The fog had already reduced much visibility; now the rain was making it near impossible to see even a few feet from where they were standing. The droplets that hit them were cold and soaked through the layers of their clothing, sending chills under their skin. The boat began to rock, teetering on the waves that climbed higher with each swell.
Gen hurried to lower the sail to prevent the mischievous squalls from trawling them completely off course. Jovin scuttled between the upper and lower decks, transferring their supplies into the safety of the dry space underneath.
But when the storm threatened to escalate, sending wild, towering waves into the boat, the boys decided it was time to throw down the anchor. Pushing against the torrents from the sky and struggling to keep his balance, Gen made it to the right side of the boat and began unravelling the rope to free the anchor. Then with great effort he lifted it till it almost reached his shoulder and cast it overboard.
Water was beginning to pool on the upper deck, and as the waves thrust the boat from side to side, the boys, too, were flung across the slippery floor and splashed in the face by the sliding puddle. The brutal motion of the boat made their stomachs churn and nausea rise in their throats.
“Let’s head below,” Gen choked out, competing with the roll of thunder, the roaring of the wind, and the crashing of the waves all at once. He thought he saw Jovin nod from the far end of the boat, but he couldn’t be sure; the rain had blurred his vision like some kind of crinkled glass curtain. But when he saw a mass of dark brown crawling towards the hatch, he began to make his way too.
The hatch creaked open and the boys flopped down the ladder like fishes. Gen quickly shut it before more water could get in. The lower deck was stuffy and soggy, and there was barely enough headroom for them to stand upright. Water from above slipped through the cracks in the floorboards in a few places and dripped into the darkened space, but the sounds were washed out by the torrential downpour outside and they could only know by feeling.
Gen fumbled around till his hands fell on the oil lamp that Oreill had given them. Fiddling with it, he managed to turn it on. Jovin was slumped over on their bags in the far corner and he looked unusually drained and...weak. There was a sickly pallor to his face that was noticeable even in the dimly lit space.
He was feverish, shivering; his usual stony expression now given way to a piteous vulnerability. It reminded Gen that even the strongest of men had moments of weakness. Surveying the cabin, Gen found a few canvas sheets tucked away behind an assortment of boating supplies - old sails. He unfolded one and placed it over Jovin, who had drifted into a fitful slumber. His eyelids trembled restlessly, and he twitched uncomfortably in between the crashing of thunder and the thundering of the waves.
This scene brought to mind a familiar moment in Gen’s life. A blinding flash streaked across the purple sky. A sharp crash followed, like the striking of giant cymbals, shaking up the sky and resounding throughout the village. Gen was jolted awake, and as he sat up, crying out for Ma, the damp cloth fell from his forehead into his lap. Pa was the first one through the door; Ma was behind him, lulling little Leia to sleep in her arms. “Sleep, you are safe, we’re here,” Pa sat down next to him and tucked him in. And there Pa stayed till morning, till the thunderstorm abated.
Unfolding another sail, he wrapped it around himself and settled against the hull. He sat in solemn wonder yet again about the 19 years that Jovin lived on his own.
On the other side of the thin wooden wall, Tempest raged on through another one of her paroxysms. The boat creaked and the hollowed sounds of splintering haunted Gen with every passing minute. Was it the wind? Was it the rain? Or was the boat falling apart at its seams?
Reposing in a tiny boat in the middle of a giant lake of chaos seemed as demanding (and absurd) as cowering in the safety of a haven. The attacks came from both the sky and the water and it seemed the sinking of the boat was imminent, whether it was to be split in two by the lightning bolts or overturned by the waves.
It went on and on, and a day had probably passed, who knows, for the changes in dark and light were lost to the storm clouds and lightning. They took turns throwing up in the dark, on the damp floor, when the queasiness was too much to bear. Until the back of their mouths turned bitter with bile, their stomachs empty, and a dull ache settled upon their bellies like an interminable wrestle of tension and weariness. Gen couldn’t sleep a wink.
At a crack of thunder and a forceful wave that almost sent them flying across the cabin, Jovin awoke, looking disoriented and worried. The smallness of the space was encroaching upon his composure, and the fragility of the boat upon his resolve. Being penned up within the wooden shell of a boat with no means of escaping this madness was indeed distressing.
“Sleep,” Gen said gently, languidly. Searching for more words of comfort he found none, tongue tied and throat in a squeeze. He couldn’t promise Jovin safety, nor did he have the courage to say that everything will be alright because he was there. He wasn’t sure like Pa was. Who was he but another human being at the mercy of fate?
“I can’t, not with the storm raging outside,” Jovin sounded afraid for once, his voice feeble and almost drowned out by the fear that overcame him. In his drowsiness and indisposition, he’d lost the strength to sound measured.
“We’ve come this far, and it wasn’t by chance that we escaped all those harms unscathed. Remember what happened with the wolves? And on the mountain range? I believe the heavens will not forsake us now.”
Jovin was unconvinced, his sudden vulnerability a hotbed for crippling doubt. Perhaps those doubts existed long before, but now they ran amok, unrestrained and uncontrolled.
“Have you thought..what if...at the end of it all, it’s nothing but a rumour, and Tirips isn’t some-”
“Then we’d have tried our best, and nothing more could be asked of us,” Gen said, then softly “And I couldn’t ask any more of myself.”
The expression that came across Jovin’s face was pained as he backed away further into the corner and tucked his legs to his chest. There he rocked back and forth with each billow.
“Sleep,” Gen repeated emptily, ironically - for it was the one thing he could not do, “I doubt the storm’s going to be over anytime soon.”
He laid his head back against the hull - wrong move, the tremors did nothing to soothe his growing headache. He resorted to leaning forward, hanging his head between his knees.
Their ears were beginning to get used to the jarring sounds of wind, wave and thunder, and the hollow echo of creaking wood. While they used to get all jumpy at every streak and crash, the sounds now seemed to blend into a not-so-distant background. But it was enough distance, just enough that they could bear. It was still loud, deafening, filling every space in their eardrums, but they’d learned, without choice, to synthesise the grating pieces.
You are safe, I am here. An audible voice spoke out of the blue, and though a tremendous roll of thunder sounded right that very moment, it was clearer than ever, rising above and beyond the cacophony. Just six words - the six words Gen found himself unable to articulate. The authority and gentleness of the voice spoke volumes and it put them right at ease, as if a comforting hand had been placed on their shoulder, drawing them into a tight embrace against the strong heartbeat of certainty.
Even as it was foreign, there was that familiarity. Gen and Jovin looked at each other, and found no fear in the other’s eyes.
There was no need for the words to be repeated; it was a command, a promise, sent out like a mighty sword that would not return empty. No, the blade was made to taste victory - victory and nothing less. An inexplicable sense of calm descended on them, along with a presence that was besides them. And suddenly the boat stopped shaking. Or rather, suddenly their world stopped shaking, like they’d been placed on a firm foundation, a solid rock that remained immovable amidst the wild currents and raging winds.
Tempest continued to convulse in her throes. But within the boat all was still. Their hearts were still. Their raging fears and doubts were stilled and laid to rest. The chaos subdued, not from the outside, but from within.
So they slept, deep, easy, and restful.
They awoke some time later to the gentle rocking of the boat, waltzing with soft currents. The roaring elements had ceased and they could hear the water lapping lazily against the hull like the caress of stolen kisses.
Light was coming through the gaps in the floorboards of the deck above. This time the wooden vessel creaked heartily as sun strokes washed it dry. The musty dampness of the cabin had faded, leaving behind the delicate, lingering scent of aged teak.
When Gen opened the hatch and emerged from the stuffy cabin, he certainly was not expecting the burst of sunlight. Partially shielding his eyes with his forearm, he surveyed their surroundings. The sky was brilliantly azure and the fog had disappeared completely. All was serene.
He clambered up the wooden ladder and as he stood on the deck under the radiant sky, his eyes widened in disbelief.
“The shore…,” he ran to the opposite end of the boat. Sure enough, there in the distance was the mighty Malaban mountain range, with the sun high above its peaks. The shore from whence they came could not be seen. Then he ran to the side of the boat with the anchor and tugged on the rope. It was heavy - the anchor was still in place.
‘How did we…” he trailed off, just as Jovin emerged from the hatch, “...we had barely left the western shore when the storm hit us. And all the while we were anchored,” he said, breathless, dumbfounded.
“By being anchored we moved ahead on the right path,” Jovin remarked. The wayfarer had a knack for summing things up concisely, perfectly, and with a fascinating nonchalance.
Still, it was time to haul up the anchor and hoist the sail to allow the wind to carry them the remaining distance.
“You good?” Gen asked, panting with each heave of the rope. He wasn’t being specific but it was apparent he was referring to Jovin’s earlier frailty. Knowing better than to corner his friend further with a scrutinising look having asked a question so personal, he fixed his gaze on the rope emerging from the water and chafing the ledge.
Jovin made a sound between a ‘hmm’ and ‘mmm’, as if he was clearing his throat, before busying himself with collecting and coiling up the loose, wet rope.
Sensing Jovin’s reluctance to let on any further, unsurprisingly, Gen let it go. Jovin being back to his aloof self probably meant that he was ‘good’. But Gen wondered if it was any good to begin with. Jovin had spoken remotely about emotion - grief and fear surrounding his parents’ tragedy, yet he remained ever elusive showing any (in his presence). The wayfarer’s earlier display of vulnerability was an oversight, and it was clear he was scrambling to mend the fracture, undo his reckless mistake.
It wasn’t that Jovin didn’t trust Gen to let him in. There was a force beyond him, inside of him, in unfathomable depths that whispered emphatically, enigmatically. A voice torn in two - seeking to break free yet threatening to hold back. A chamber of mystery lost to his early days; a creature entombed in the dark unknown even to himself, glinting eyes and nothing more. He couldn’t trust himself to not cross the invisible line of propriety and universal expectation should the concealed being be unleashed.
The glowing embers of the unknown cast on him flaming red dread and fear. So he determined to keep all stirrings isolated and locked away for as long as he could.
Seeing Gen lean over the ledge to pull up the rusty shank, Jovin went to his aid. After the anchor was safely stowed and the sail raised, the boat began to move forward on the now placid waters of Tempest.
Together with Jovin, Gen walked up to the bow, and they looked upon the eastern shore of Tempest and further, the grandeur of Mount Hallow, whose peak reached into the clouds.
Author's note: wOw it has been almost 3 months 🙃 I actually had the bout of this chapter finished and just sitting there. I just couldn't get the ending parts about Jovin right and I was so frustrated at my writer's block; I even commented to myself on my draft: "Pls rewrite for goodness sake" haha. Can't say I'm 100% satisfied but I can bear it a whole lot more than the original. Thanks for staying with me and tolerating my inconsistent (non-existent) schedule :')
So based on this map you know where we arriving at next 👀
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