BA3 - Chapter 5

It was the morning of our departure for Kokyu, and I couldn’t shake the cold fear that settled in my mind. This was it. The threshold of no return. Once we were on the open seas, there was no turning back.

I packed my backpack, careful to wrap my family portrait in two layers of clothes like that could protect it from the scrupulous search the Kokyu customs agents would perform. I took a deep breath and zipped up my pack.

“Ready?” I asked of the others.

Lee and Jiho were practically bouncing out of their skin with excitement, but not Cho or Shin-soo. They nodded with quiet reserve and I could only assume they felt the same pressure as I did.

We made our way to the dining hall with our packs, and loaded up plates full of food. We would be on rowing duty for the first two hours of the trip, and needed an ample supply of energy to feed the immense munje costs.

Hana, Yuri, Cho, Shin-soo and I ate in complete silence. It was when the meal was almost done that I sat back and reviewed our surroundings. The other third years were giddy, and our lack of excitement was giving nearby tables reason to be worried.

“I’m ready for this adventure,” I said in Japanese. We’d been instructed to speak the Kokyu dialect at all times, to help ease our transition into the culture. It had done wonders for my horrible accent, so said Mae.

Hana smiled. “Me too.”

Shin-soo squinted at me and asked in a hushed voice, “You know we might die, right?”

I sighed. “Yes, but I’m hopeful we won’t.”

“We won’t,” Yuri said smugly.

“How do you know?” Cho asked, interested.

Yuri pulled a small, silver coin from her pocket. It wasn’t a guli, or any of the coins in circulation in Kokyu. “Rub it,” she said, holding it out over the table.

“Oh no, Yuri. Did you fall for that quack fortuneteller’s lies?” Hana asked with pity in her eyes.

Yuri shook her head. “It’s seriously a lucky coin! I got picked for second rowing shift, the easiest shift. I also got fresh pork belly this morning.”

“That doesn’t mean the coin is lucky,” Cho said, looking downtrodden.

“Whatever,” Shin-soo said, then rubbed the coin. “I need as much luck as I can get.”

Cho reached out and rubbed the coin next. “Yeah, totally.”

Hana groaned, but gave the luck emblem a scrub, then everyone looked to me. I rolled my eyes and gave the coin a swish swish with my index finger and thumb. Yuri looked content and put the coin away.

Min-hwan cleared his throat, booming over the hall full of students. “The time has come to bid farewell to the third-year exchange students.”

My heart thrummed with nerves, and I looked around at the smiling faces.

“Have a safe trip!” everyone chimed together.

I found Eun-bi’s face in the crowd. She was already looking at me, but there wasn’t hate in her eyes. When Min-hwan took his seat, I stood and crossed the hall to where Eun-bi sat. Her new friends quieted when I knelt next to her.

“I’m going now,” I said to my little sister with the heart of ice.

“Have a safe trip.” Eun-bi replied mechanically without looking at me.

Her friends urged her to say more through gritted teeth, but she sat as placid as a stone statue. How could I let her know how much I loved her, and our family? How could I tell her how scared I was, and how much I wished she would look at me?

“I hope your year is prosperous,” I whispered with a deep bow.

Eun-bi didn’t respond. The pity-filled sidelong glances of her friends let me know it was time to leave. I returned to my seat, grabbed my bag, and followed the other third-year exchange students from the dining hall.

Mae prowled at the edges of my consciousness as I walked down the steps of the main pagoda. She was anxious, hopeful, and sad. It hurt her to see Eun-bi so cold, too. There was nothing we could do about it now.

There were twelve rickshaws waiting outside the gates to ferry the twenty students and four escort instructors down to the seaport. Several inter-city ports existed to get people from one end of Busa-nan to the other, but there were only two ports with boats large enough to travel across the sea to visit neighboring kingdoms.

Hana held my hand as we bounced along, but said nothing. My heart was raw as I watched the kingdom streets go by. Would this be the last time I ever saw them?

Unlike the fishermen’s docks—five narrow strips of wood planks stretching out thirty meters into the bay—the international ports were massive. At least sixty boats with capacities ranging from ten passengers up to two hundred waited down the thirty thick, long planks.

Boats with tall masts, machina motors, and elaborate designs filled up the bustling space. We disembarked at the edge of the port where the excitement was palpable. Students from all kinds of academies throughout the kingdom were lined up to board their boats for the exchange program.

“There’s the Silver Dragonfly,” Cho said wistfully as he pointed toward the students in silvery robes accented with hints of purple and blue.

Cho’s sister, Zari, had elected to become an escort for her exchange program when she’d learned Cho would be going to Kokyu. They had hoped to be able to spend time together there, since Zari was under such strict observation in Busa-nan.

“You’ll see her soon,” I smiled and patted my friend on the back.

“Students, gather up!” Sung-ki boomed with an infusion of ry and my class gathered around him. “We will be aboard the Swift Sola, pier seventeen, position ten. If you are not there in thirty minutes, we will depart without you.”

I looked to my friends—and Shin-soo—and confirmed there was no reason to mess around wasting time. We followed the instructors to pier 17 down to the Swift Sola and boarded the agile looking ship.

It was primarily constructed of wood, with solid metal pressed along the underside. Razorfins would dice up anything not shielded by metal stronger than their infamously named razor fin. The boat had a mast and sails for catching wind, but the primary method of making speed would be our own “rowing”—moving the water around the boat to propel it forward.

There was a small space below decks where we could store our gear, and a few places for sitting, but it was obvious this ship was not meant for multiple days of straight travel. There were no cots, and no space to sleep for that matter. The ship was intended to make port every day it was out, or at least make landfall and set up camp on the shore. I knew our trip would take us to Heiko, the island between Busa-nan and Kokyu. It was a no man’s land, wrought with pirates and degenerates.

But it was also necessary. The leader of Heiko—no more than a greedy thug—controlled the canal that would allow boats through to the other side and into Kokyu territory. Without going through Heiko, the trip would take an addition five days of sailing around tall mountains and treacherous waters full of dangers even greater than a ravenous pod of razorfins. There was nowhere to pull ashore against the rocky cliffs, and rowing non-stop would certainly be our death.

Cho was leaned against the railing on the top deck, his light hair ruffling in the breeze. His eyes were set on the horizon, and no emotion played on his face. I approached my friend, knowing full-well he was thinking about something horrifying.

“What is it?” I asked.

Cho was quiet at more Bastion students boarded, then went below deck. “I saw Zari’s ship on the way here. She’s one of the escorts for the Silver Dragonfly’s exchange students.”

“You’re worried for her?”

He nodded.

“We’ll watch out for her.”

Cho chuckled, then turned to me with a genuine smile. “She’s at the top of her class. I don’t think she needs looking after…” he trailed off and the smile faded. “I’m worried about if we fail. What will happen to all of them?” Cho asked as he gestured to docks.

Bright-eyed students from all over the kingdom boarded boats off to fun and exciting exchange schools, some of them in Kokyu. If we were discovered, it might not just implicate all the Bastions, but all the students from Busa-nan. Who knew what the king of Kokyu would do?

“I’ve thought about it too, and there’s no point in keeping those ideas in your head. The more you fixate on failure, the higher its probability.”

Cho quirked an eyebrow and asked sarcastically, “Positive thinking?”

“The mind is a powerful place,” I said, tapping my temple. I placed my other hand over my heart, feeling Mae’s disc burned into my chest.

He nodded. “You’re right. Let’s not dwell on things.”

A loud boom like a trumpet blare filled the sky over the docks and all fell silent. “Attention student exchange programs. The Kokyu convoy will be departing in five minutes. If you are a Kokyu exchange, get to your boat now. The Sianam convoy will be departing in one hour. That is all.”

As more and more students flooded the deck, we shifted our conversation to mirror our peers in excitement. The loud blare sounded again to signal the convoy’s departure, and our captain stood.

He was tall and slender, with lean muscles. He ran at optimum energy efficiency. Just enough food for his body and munje needs. With a clearing of his throat, he addressed us.

“We’ll have orderly rowing to Heiko! My crew will serve as section leaders for all rowing shifts. They will help you keep pace, navigate obstacles, and stay alert. Follow your section leader’s orders at all times, and we might just get to Heiko in one piece.” He paused, smirking. “I know you Bastions are supposed to be the best, but the sea is more treacherous than any thing you’ve ever experienced. It will not be easy if we don’t all work together. Clear?”

“Clear, captain!” students and crew alike chimed together with a salute.

It was the closest thing I’d ever experienced to the Busa-nan military. We knew the sea’s dangers well—it had been part of our summer curriculum. I was hoping I’d never have to see a giant, three-headed silk eel.

The nightmare creature had two heads that—apart from biting and rending victims in two—vomited a string of silk. Then, they had needle like appendages to weave that silk into nets. They would use the nets to loop up their favorite fish, mostly, but every once in a while they’d snag a boat, capsize it, and get the tasty flesh of human.

Some said that once the three-headed silk eel tasted human, it became crazed, craving the flavor. Those eel were bold. They would swim right up to boats and toss the net over them, dragging them to the depths. Convoys were essential for that reason.

“Listen up!” The woman at the front of my row shouted. She was short, and similarly muscular as the captain. Her hair was cut short on the sides, and her skin was tanned with the heat of the sun. “You’re going to plant your feet, left in front and slightly askew, right in back, parallel with the rear of the ship.”

We had covered this pose and practiced rowing in our physical therapy classes, so this wasn’t new to us. I moved into position as I’d done at least a hundred times, then began the cyclical breathing for en munje. Long, deep breaths that would be most efficient for endurance munje creation.

“Now, place both hands in front of you, and reach forward.” She mirrored the movement for us, then pulled her upper body back. Her hands flowed down past her legs in a wide circle. She leaned back and lifted her arms up to her shoulder, and then over, back to the leaned forward with arms out position.

She turned away from us. “Watch carefully now.”

Her hands glowed blue and she looked to the other section leaders. They shared a nod, and then counted down, “Three, two, one, pull!”

She began the leaning, arm-swooping movement, releasing en munje into the water as she did. They all pulled back together, and the boat eased away from the docks. They pulled again, and I joined in the movement.

My leg wanted to bounce. We’d practiced rowing a hundred times, but it had always been in the yard, or the bay, but not out to the dark waters of the sea. I exhaled hard as I dragged my arms back with my upper body. The blood in my arms pooled down in my hands as I tugged at the en munje in the water around us.

It tingled for a moment, but when I raised my arms up and around, the blood easily rushed back to my heart.

“Pull!” the leaders said in time, and a drum was beat behind us.

“The open water shimmers bright,” my section leader sang the words to the beat.

“Afar from Busa-nan’s great light,” another leader boomed next and a song emerged to the flow of the water.

“We know not where we’re sailing to,

But find great company in you,

Oh goddess of the wind and sea,

You guide us with your hand, steady,

We may not know the way back home,

And need not home without your moan,

Oh goddess wraith queen of the deep,

You cannot have our souls to keep,

So bless us with your winds so fair,

And lead us not your storm to bear."

The convoy pulled away from the docks, and within minutes, Busa-nan was shrinking into the distance behind us. My heart hammered as I kept the steady pace of the rowing. We had trained our upper bodies hard for this, but somehow, it hadn’t been enough.

After an hour, we traded out with the second shift. We drank water infused with en boosters and electrolytes to get our strength back up. We would have to row again after the third shift, and would need to be fully recovered by then.

The convoy moved together like a navy fleet escorting cargo. The ships most at risk were at the center, and the outside ring was interspersed with battle cruisers loaded to the teeth with projectile weaponry.

I moved to the upper deck to enjoy the view for the last few minutes of my break. Hana’s dark hair swept in a soft circle as the sea breeze blew through it. Her skin glistened with the spray of the salt, and her face glowed with serenity.

I wanted to capture her like this and remember it forever. I felt Mae take a mental imprint—a picture. I smiled. ‘Thank you.’

“You’re welcome,” she said with a happy sigh.

She opened her eyes, and her face shifted from joy to dread. She turned, looking to the captain at the helm of the ship. “What is that?” Hana asked, pointing into the water.

I ran to the edge of the railing to get a better look. Something long, dark, and tube-like emerged from under the boat to our right. It didn’t slither, or have three heads, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous.

The dark object came closer to the surface as it pushed forward, directly for our starboard bow. It was metallic, man-made without a doubt. My mind raced with the images of a submarine when I infiltrated the Wong dojang last year. It was a close match to this silhouette on a collision course.

“It’s surfacing!” I yelled.

The captain’s voice boomed over the songs of rowing. “Brace for impact!”

P.S. FROM J.D.

I had NO idea that shanties were going to blow up this year... I feel like we might be in a video game and the devs were like "Patch 12021 includes COVID-19 vaccine and all humans wanting more sea shanties." So weird. OKAY, I'm out.