Chapter 29 – The Sea Voyage II
Day 6
Morning rose with the sun climbing high into the sky. Shawn stirred awake to the cry of seagulls circling above the ship as it rode the waves with a steady rhythm. He pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and looked around to find Jarken at the helm and Makara perched at the bow like a watchful hawk.
Shawn made his way toward Makara and said, “I thought you two would be sleeping off all that booze… but you’re already up and sailing like nothing happened.”
Makara smirked, raising a small flask. “Well, Shawn, at sea the day starts early—and you looked so peaceful we decided to let you have your beauty sleep,” he said before taking a swig. He wiped his mouth and added, “Rum may dance in your head, but sake always sings.”
Shawn arched an eyebrow, folded his arms, and gazed ahead as the ship carved through the hard-rolling waves.
As they were sailing then from out of nowhere, without warning, a rush of wind came barreling down from the heavens. The sky darkened as thick, menacing clouds rolled in, blotting out the sun. Rain began to fall in heavy sheets, and the once-calm sea turned violent. Thunder rumbled, and lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the dark water in brief, blinding flashes and the rain hammered down in torrents. The waves grew taller, crashing against the boat with increasing ferocity.
Jarken’s face turned serious as he gripped the helm tightly. “Hold on, lads!” he barked over the roar of the storm. “This is no ordinary squall!” Shawn and Makara clung to the sides of the ship as it bucked beneath them.
The old captain’s years of experience kicked in as he navigated the boat through the worsening storm. He steered with a steady hand, using every ounce of his strength and knowledge to keep them afloat. He zigzagged through the towering waves, steering the boat away from the worst of the swells, but the ocean seemed to fight back with every turn.
The boat pitched violently, and Jarken could see the ropes holding the sails on both sides of the mast starting to fray and loosen. “Secure those ropes!” he shouted to Shawn and Makara, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. “If they come loose, we’ll be done for!”
Makara, though clearly inebriated, moved with surprising agility, his drunken sway somehow matching the rhythm of the rocking deck. He darted across the boat, tying knots on the port side and securing lines with the speed of a seasoned deckhand.
Shawn, meanwhile, struggled to keep his footing on the slippery deck, the storm testing his every step. He grabbed hold of a rope on the starboard side, trying to secure it to the mast when a massive wave crashed over the rail, nearly knocking him off his feet. Gritting his teeth, he managed to hold on, pulling the rope tight and securing it as best he could.
Suddenly, a blinding flash of lightning struck the helm, breaking it in half. The force of the blast sent Jarken flying back across the deck, where he landed hard, his head hitting the wood with a sickening thud. He lay motionless, unconscious, as the storm continued to rage around them.
“Jarken!” Shawn shouted, but the old captain didn’t respond. He turned to Makara, who was already moving. Using the motion of the boat to his advantage, Makara leapt toward the broken helm, grabbing hold of the remaining half and fighting to steer the boat through the storm.
Then, another bolt of lightning struck, this time hitting the mast. The force of the strike was less direct, but it still sent a shudder through the entire boat. The ropes on the port side snapped, causing the sail to whip violently in the wind, and before they knew it, the boat had been dragged into the swirling pull of a big deep whirlpool forming off their starboard side.
“We’re caught in a whirlpool!” Makara yelled, his voice sharp with urgency. He struggled to turn the boat away from the massive vortex, but its centre was churning with a menacing pull. Despite his efforts, the boat was dragged in towards the centre.
“Makara, we need to get out of here!” Shawn shouted, gripping the side of the boat as the rope he had tied on the port side tore loose. The sail swung free, catching the rough wind towards the starboard side and pulling the boat dangerously fast closer to the whirlpool’s heart.
“I’m trying—but the wind is pushing the sail of the boat towards the centre of the swirl!” Makara shouted back, his face set in a grimace as he fought with the shattered helm.
Shawn and Makara locked eyes for a brief moment. They both knew they had to act fast.
“I’ve got an idea,” Shawn shouted over the roar of the storm, ” hold the boat’s helm toward port side!”
Makara nodded, his grip tightening on the helm. Shawn took a deep breath, pushing himself using the side of the ship and made a leap, landing in front of the helm. He extended his hand, summoning his power. A blue smoke emerged, snaking out from his arm and coiling into his palm as he conjured a rope. He spun it once, then hurled it, aiming for the port side yard holding the sail.
The roaring waves made the boat unstable, and it was difficult for him to find footing in the rain and use his power efficiently, but he dug his heels into the deck. The whipping wind clawed at him, and the yardarm swung violently, but Shawn was determined. Finally, the rope caught.
Shawn planted his feet firmly and pulled with all his might, using his strength to drag the sail back into position. The strain was immense, and the wind fought him every inch of the way. As the boat rocked violently against the rough waves, his concentration wavered between the rope and his balance. The rope he had summoned with his power began to lose its physical form into wisps of smoke curling from it as it began to fade. But then a voice from Makara cut through the chaos, snapping his focus back—and the rope solidified once more, strong and steady in his grasp.
“Come on, Shawn!” Makara shouted, his eyes darting between the boy and the approaching whirlpool as he wrestled with the broken helm.
Shawn felt his muscles burn as his energy waned, but he refused to give up. With a desperate pull, he managed to haul the sail to the port side, forcing the ship to angle away. The vessel spun, circling along the outer rim of the whirlpool, but the swirl of the current’s pull only grew stronger, making it difficult for the boat to escape through the port side and dragging the ship back toward the centre.
Despite their efforts, the ship continued to be drawn toward the centre of the whirlpool, the powerful current pulling them closer with every passing second. Waves crashed over the deck, spraying cold, salty water over everyone. The boat groaned and creaked under the strain, its aged wooden frame barely holding together.
Makara knew their only hope was to use the whirlpool’s momentum to slingshot the boat out the other side. He grabbed Shawn’s shoulder, who was in front of him, clutching the portside yard, and shouted over the roar of the storm, “Do you trust me?”
Shawn, clutching the rope with all his might as the ship bucked and heaved, turned to Makara. His eyes went wide as he saw the fierce determination blazing in Makara’s gaze. He knew Makara had a plan to escape this disastrous trap. With a heavy breath, struggling against the wind, Shawn nodded and shouted back, “Yes!”
Makara’s face hardened with resolve. “Then loosen the rope—but be ready to pull it hard towards the port side when I give the command! And conjure a rope and catch the other end of the yard, too!”
With a grunt, Shawn released the rope slightly, allowing the ship to turn toward the starboard side, steering them closer to the whirlpool’s centre. Meanwhile, he conjured another rope and caught the starboard side of the yard. The wind was howling fiercely in that direction, making the catch easier this time. With the ropes in place, Shawn was now in control of the yard, his powers creating a taut line against the chaotic forces of the storm. He finally understood what Makara was planning, keeping the sail from dragging the ship overboard with sheer force.
The ship picked up speed as it hurtled deeper into the swirling vortex. The whirlpool spun around them, a chaotic dance of water and wind. Makara jammed his sword into the helm, locking it in place to keep their course steady against the violent current. His eyes narrowed, watching the winds, feeling the subtle shift in the air. He began to chant, a low, rhythmic call, “Wait… wait… wait…“—his voice barely audible over the howling storm.
The tension built as the boat spun faster, pulled deeper into the whirlpool’s deadly spiral. As the hull tilted and spun in the swirl circle, Makara felt it—a shift in the wind’s direction. His eyes flashed with sudden clarity. He waited a heartbeat longer, then shouted with all his might, “Now, Shawn! Now!”
With all his strength, Shawn yanked the ropes toward the port side, swinging the yard and sails to catch the wind and turn their bow away from the vortex’s heart. The boat groaned in protest, the mast creaking under the strain. The combination of their speed and the sudden shift in the wind sent the boat veering sharply toward the whirlpool’s outer edge on the port side. They felt a jolt as the vessel surged forward, propelled by the powerful forces at play.
The boat lurched violently, skirting along the edge of the whirlpool, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed they might actually break free, but the sea wasn’t done with them yet. A massive wave, rising like a towering wall of water at the whirlpool’s edge, loomed above them, casting a shadow over the boat.
“Brace yourselves!” Makara roared, gripping the helm with both hands, his knuckles white with strain.
The wave crashed down, slamming into the boat with a force that sent it tipping dangerously. Water poured over the sides, flooding the deck, and for a moment, everything seemed lost, but just as it seemed the sea would swallow them whole, the boat burst through the crest with newfound momentum.
Panting and drenched to the bone, Shawn and Makara glanced around, trying to catch their breath. Shawn released his conjured ropes, letting them dissipate into the air as he collapsed onto the deck, gasping. They had done it—the whirlpool was behind them, and the storm was starting to break. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the dark clouds, casting a golden hue over the sea.
“We made it,” Shawn yelled, though his voice was trembling with disbelief and relief. He and Makara exchanged a look of astonished joy. Makara grinned broadly, his usual stern demeanour softening. “Of course we did it,” he replied with a chuckle, though his voice was rough from shouting over the storm.
A wave splashed over Jarken, who groaned and stirred where he lay, slowly coming to. He blinked up at Shawn and Makara, who stood soaked and breathless before him. “Looks like… You two had some fun,” he muttered, coughing up a bit of seawater and wiping his eyes.
Shawn and Makara exchanged a weary but amused glance, their chests still heaving. Makara said, “You have no idea!”
Jarken, who had been unconscious for most of their ordeal, had no clue what they had just survived. He managed a weak smile, his face pale and drawn. He turned his gaze toward the horizon and spoke in a raspy voice, “Looks like we’ve reached your destination, lads.”
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