Chapter 11
Navigating Deep Waters
Henrik was grating on my nerves. He’d taken to piling his books and bag onto my typical bench seat every day, and only moved his stuff after I arrived. Even now, one of his books dug into my hip, it was wedged so closely between us.
We’d been served a gourmet breakfast today, three times as much food as normal, and told to eat as much as we could handle. Today's lesson had been run of the mill, nothing to warrant the feast.
“Being able to tell direction, to orient yourself and determine which way the wind tends toward, is critical for any Voyager.” Instructor Garcien had slicked her silver-touched dark hair back into a pragmatic bun today. It suited her.
My new habit was to bring a few sheets of peeled bark with me to take notes on.
It was something I hadn't thought of during my first lessons, and I had wished for when I'd seen the detailed drawings of the different cloud shapes.
Luckily, Sarina had taken better notes than I, and shared hers with me.
“Directional awareness is more than cardinal. You need to be able to tell ordinal directions, uphill from downhill, which direction the sun faces, but critically: safe from unsafe. Being somewhere cold like the peaks of Mount Kael and traveling away from the sun is certain death.”
“The only thing dying right now is my will to live,” grouched Henrik, and I tried not to let my lips quirk. It was impressive he was still showing up for lessons each day, but then again, the alternative for us was very unappealing.
“Your scores on our last written exam speak to a lack of intelligence, not will to live, Mr. Ravenscroft.” Instructor Garcien had turned her attention to Henrik when he interrupted, as she did to any disruptive students.
I smothered a laugh, it was entertaining watching her discipline the rowdier students like Henrik.
“But you know what they say, water seeks its own level.”
Henrik scowled, but didn’t respond.
At this point, it was nearly a daily occurrence for him to punctuate lessons with some witty jab, and Instructor Garcien to fire back some scathing retort.
It didn't feel malicious, Instructor Garcien went out of her way to help each of us learn, especially Henrik, despite his compulsive misbehavior.
Sometimes he had good comebacks too, and it was engaging to watch them go at it.
By my count though, she had him beat eight to three.
“Following a river downhill only to discover stagnant undrinkable water will not help you.” Instructor Garcien picked up her lecturing cadence again without pause.
My mind wandered to how many mountains and water-filled lakes there were on the outer islands.
We had several natural lakes and rivers on Mesmoria, but they were finite and precious resources closely monitored by the Ascendancy.
Of course, we always had snow at the top of Mount Kael in the case of an emergency, but it wasn't easy to reach. Or transport.
“There are multiple means you can use to tell ordinal directions, such as knowing that miasma waves move parallel to cardinal directions.
Sand will also form dunes based on the prevailing wind, which blows westward on Mesmoria.
Specific vegetation only grows facing one way, like moss, and tracking shadow's movement over time will help you determine direction.
The Tide of the sun never changes, as all good things don't. Some vegetation you can look for includes specific types of ferns and flowers, like—”
I scribbled pictures of the plants she held up, mind wandering. My stomach grumbled in irritation from the hefty breakfast.
She handed out slimstalk twigs. “I will demonstrate how to tell directions over the course of the next 10 minutes, then we will be taking a field trip to see how much you each retained.”
I perked up. We hadn't been able to leave the outpost since arriving, and it had been nearly four weeks now. The outdoor meals and lessons were the highlights of each day, but it wasn't nearly enough time outside for me.
The desire to revisit my cliff overlook and watch the miasma was desperate at this point, but even getting outside far enough to see some trees would be refreshing.
Instructor Garcien held true to her word. She marked two points on the end of the shadow and then drew a line between them, explaining how it related to the sun's directional movement and how we could use it to orient ourselves. My stick was crooked, but I was still able to identify true north.
“This won't be a play date,” Instructor Garcien looked directly at Henrik as she said it.
“Anyone who meanders off and doesn't return with the group will be locked out of the outpost after we return. Since we are halfway to our midterm, today will be the first of several practical lessons to ensure everyone is ready.”
I was admittedly nervous about the midterm.
There was a lot of material being covered in the lessons and the training sessions were gruelingly intense.
I had thought that having enough existing strength to qualify would carry me through the physical training required to become a Voyager, but I had grossly overestimated my level of fitness.
Almost every day at this point, I went back to the barracks nursing sore muscles and mild bruises.
“Today, we’ll cover navigational and endurance training.”
It didn't click what exactly that meant until I spotted Zevrial lounging against one of the walls, a wheelbarrow full of sacks beside him.
And wasn't that a bucket of cold water on my excitement from earlier.
Instructor Garcien lined us up, single file. We filed out of the outpost as she led us toward a nearby bamboo forest.
Trying my best not to think about Zevrial strolling behind us made me think about him strolling behind us.
The forest was vibrant under the summer sun, with thick trunks stretching up to the sky and opulent leaves extending out in all directions.
As we ventured inside, all noise perceptibly dimmed.
A palpable hush, almost magic in nature, blanketed us.
It was oddly cooler inside the woods than it had been outside them.
It brought me more ease than I thought possible, being near trees again. Memories of running through forests with Nessa drifted through my mind.
Before long, we reached an empty grove with a small stream running through it.
“Alright, this lesson will be one-on-one, so Veridiana,” Instructor Garcien stepped up beside the she-wolf who happened to be at the front of the line.
“Stay with me. Everyone else, you're with Instructor Tyrell until you’re called. You’ll train while you wait for your turn at the individual lesson. ”
I swallowed the caramelized lump in my throat.
There hadn't been any other questionably indecent incidents for several weeks now with Zevrial.
Unless you counted the constant training we had been doing with weighted apparatus.
We still had not been taught how to tie knots for ourselves.
Which meant he tied mine off in the same manner he had the first time, every time.
He managed to make the process feel intimate even when it was a wristband.
I wanted to avoid any more bursts of temporary insanity. This felt distressingly like another opportunity for him to try to complete his self-imposed challenge.
The thought shouldn’t have made me feel more excited than anxious.
Nevertheless, we followed him further up the forested path as he pushed the wheelbarrow. I tried not to inspect his backside as we walked. I failed.
The looser tunic he wore today didn't reveal much of the body that lay beneath it, but the laced breeches he had on were a different story.
They had been pulled tight, and way too much of the considerably attractive shape of his backside was outlined in them.
He made moving the heavy wheelbarrow look effortless, which also wasn't helping my treasonous hormones.
When we had gone far enough that we could no longer see or hear Instructor Garcien, he stopped us, pulling the top sack out.
“Today's training will be considerably more difficult than the past few weeks.”
Internally I held back a groan. Every joint was sore from the weighted gauntlets, anklets, belts, and other equipment he had used for the past few weeks to strengthen us.
“These,” he unceremoniously dumped a sack on the ground, a flight of dragonflies spraying out as he did. It looked like a lumpy shirt. “Are weighted vests. You’ll each be wearing one.”
I thanked the Devourer that the vests were laced in the front like his top, not something that had to be tied on with knots. Nifty though, the one-size fits all design they'd come up with, even if we were going to look like potato sacks.
Which, now that I’d noticed it, pulling my gaze away from the gap between the laces at the top of Zevrial’s tunic was a fight.
He caught my wandering eyes, but showed no reaction other than a furtive glance my way.
“Each of you will be rucking while attempting to wrestle with another one of your teammates.
The strength required to grapple with another person is the same kind you'll need if you're ever caught in a heavy storm.
You'll need to be able to hold on, not just against your own body weight, but against brutal winds.
They'll pull with significant force. The sails of an Arc weigh a fuck ton.”
Guess our unit of measurement today is obscenity.