Evan woke up feeling like the ground right at the start of a marathon. Every muscle stamped on by at least 3 people.
A cruel contrast to the gentle tapping of Hunyak's fingers on his arm.
"Wake up, Aso. You still have training today."
He tried to lift an arm, and his body immediately protested. 'Have they not discovered warm-ups yet? If this is supposed to be my life now, imma need to do exercises early in the morning.'
"My muscles won't move."
Binalig laughed from somewhere outside the hut. "He's really just a boy trapped in a man's body."
"You don't have time to rest," Hunyak said firmly. "Go wash up and head to the clearing before the Datu makes an example out of you." Her voice turned gentle. "Don't worry you only need to endure this today. I'll make you a balm later."
She handed him a gourd of water. He took it, splashed some on his face, and trudged toward the shit cliff to take care of business.
When he returned to the clearing, the others were already gathering. Children lined up in uneven rows, their chatter blending with the rustle of palm leaves. The air hummed with anticipation.
Then the Datu stepped forward.
The man's tattoos glistened faintly under the newborn sun. Serpents and waves winding across once-taut arms now beginning to sag. Everyone seemed wary and respectful of him, but Evan wondered how much of that was genuine. How much was just people putting him on a pedestal, too afraid to see the man beneath.
'Yeah, glad I never got tattoos' Evan thought. 'They're great when you're young, but when the skin folds... it really enhances the irony and brings out the nostalgia.'
The Datu's voice rolled through the clearing, deep and steady.
"The spirits are generous today," he said, his words carried easily on the morning breeze. "The sea is calm, and the winds favor us. Today, we teach you the ways of the water."
A wave of whispers spread through the children.
"The sea?"
"My uncle said there'd be crocodiles!"
"Are we going fishing?"
Evan hissed through his teeth. Just imagining the ocean again made his stomach twist.
'The ocean again? I barely made it out last time.'
The Datu motioned for everyone to follow. Down by the river, the big boat from the feast rested, its hull gleaming like wet obsidian. Behind it floated a smaller boat, roughly a quarter the size of the big boat.
He approached the head of the larger vessel. "Warriors. Board." he commanded. They moved in an orderly fashion, each one jumping into the boat and moving into their assigned positions.
Then his gaze shifted toward Evan and the children. "You will row the small boat. Strength is nothing alone. Cooperate. Move as one. That is where real power lies."
Evan eyed the little craft with suspicion. 'Hope that thing can carry me. It's one thing to capsize on a river, another to flip into the open sea.'
As the children clambered aboard, the Datu's voice carried over the water. "Hold your oar like this. When I give the signal, dip it, then push. Steady strokes. Do not tire yourselves." He pauses looking at them sternly. "Speed comes from rhythm, not brute force."
Evan was about to settle at the stern when the Datu called out,
"Aso! You will sit in the middle. Your weight at the back will tip the boat. Sit at the center. Two oars for you. Your big body can handle that, yes?"
Suppressing a sigh, Evan stepped carefully into the boat and took his seat amid the muffled giggles from the larger vessel. The wooden frame creaked beneath him.
He studied their formation. Two kids side by side in neat rows, with him awkwardly positioned in the center of the boat.
'Feels like a regular canoe… only larger, made of wood, and full of kids treating this like they're olympians.'
The Datu, probably mistaking Evan's uncertainty for fear of the open water, called out reassuringly, "Don't worry, Aso! There are no sharks where we're going."
On the larger boat ahead, the warriors dipped their paddles in perfect unison. Each stroke was smooth and powerful, sending sprays of water into the air. The rhythm was so fierce that any animal with a lick of sense probably fled into hiding.
Meanwhile, Evan and the kids tried to copy the warriors' elegant rhythm. The result was chaos. Paddles flailed, smacked, and splashed like malfunctioning propellers. He couldn't help but think back to their spear throws yesterday. They weren't graceful then either, but at least that had some sense of order. Before he could even yell "stop," the boat had already started turning to the right.
"Left side! No! Stop! Right side! The other right!" he shouted, trying to stop the boat from completely spinning.
"Stop!" the Datu's deep voice thundered across the water, cutting through the panic. He gestured for the warriors to rest their paddles, then turned toward the children's spinning boat. "Raise your oars! Let the river guide you back."
To Evan's surprise, the current slowly corrected their drift. The boat steadied, then drifted gently until they caught up again with the Datu's vessel.
The Datu regarded them with calm authority. "This is why coordination is vital," he said. "To move forward, everyone must push together. To turn, only the rowers on the opposite side must stroke in unison."
He pointed at the smallest child sitting near the bow. "You! You'll lead the rhythm. Call it out. 'Go! Left! Right!'"
He paused, letting his gaze sweep over the children, his tone softening. "Do it slow. The river is gentle, forgiving. Use this time to get used to it. The ocean won't be as kind."
Evan adjusted his grip on the oars, lifting them clear of the water. He waited for the signal from the boy at the bow.
"G- Go". The kid stuttered.
The kids behind the front kid heard it clearly enough. Their paddles dipped into the water with small, even splashes, and Evan followed their rhythm. The boy at the front took his time between calls. Long enough that Evan occasionally rested the oars against the boat's edge before lifting them again for the next command.
After a while, the boy seemed to find his confidence, his voice growing steadier each time. He must have looked back and seen that everyone was actually following his lead.
Their pace was slow, the Datu's big boat sometimes drifting far ahead, but they managed to keep it in sight. The river gradually widened, the current growing smoother as the banks opened up.
When they finally reached the mouth of the river, the Datu's boat was waiting, gliding on the current.
"Stop!" the boy called.
The boats came together, their ripples spreading gently outward. The Datu turned to face them, his expression calm and approving.
"You did well. The river has given you good practice. Beyond this mouth waits the sea. The babaylan assured me that the waves will be gentle. But make no mistake, the sea's waves are no match for the gentle river currents you just experienced. Keep your wits about you. Push your muscles as far as you can. The sea is not kind to spinning boats."
The boats continued moving, carried by the current. The mouth of the river widened until it opened into the ocean. The calm current they had followed from inland met the open sea, and the shift was immediate. The color of the water changed from a clear, greenish hue to a darker blue.
'That deep blue never seemed threatening when I was just another passenger, watching from a sturdy boat with actual adults handling the work. But in this rinky dink boat, all I can think of is the depths.' He took a deep breath and chastised himself. 'Focus Evan!'
The surface grew uneven. Small ripples turned into rolling waves, and the boat began to lift and drop with each motion. The oars cut through the water unevenly now. The kids get caught off guard when their oars hit nothing but air.
It was harder going, but the boy in front kept his pace steady. When the current started to push them too far to the left, he stopped paddling and shouted. "Right side, stop!!!" The kids surprisingly obeyed quickly, keeping the boat on course.
Up ahead, the datu's vessel turned sharply to the left. The larger boat moved smoothly despite the choppy water, its paddlers working in unison. Within moments, it disappeared behind a wall of cliffs near the coastline.
The waves hit harder as they approached the same area. The wind picked up, blowing from the sea toward the cliffs. The salt spray reached their faces. His muscles burned as they fought the waves, but he didn't dare slow down.
When they finally passed the rock formation, the sea grew calmer again. A crescent-shaped bay came into view. The cliffs curved around it on both sides, forming a natural barrier that broke most of the waves. The rock faces were tall, steep, and covered in patches of vegetation clinging to cracks and ledges.
At the center of the bay, a narrow strip of coast appeared. A small beach of pale white sand and pebbles. The water there was shallow and lighter in color, with scattered driftwood and seaweed near the shore.
His arms breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes gazed in wonder.
'Wow that beach will get as many white people tourists as Boracay. Maybe more with these gorgeous rock formations.'
The datu's boat was already inside, but instead of heading for the beach, they seem to be angling towards the right side of the bay.
Looking past the Datu's boat and into their target, Evan squinted. A dark slit broke the smooth cliffside. A narrow opening barely a meter tall, half-hidden by hanging roots and moss.
'Wow, we are going into a sea cave'
His tired muscles fully ignored by now, replaced by the prospect of an exciting underwater adventure. He remembers those videos of amazing stalactites, clear blue water untouched for millenia, all illuminated by the sun's rays bounced around by unseen mirrors.
Then reality seeped into his fantasies. 'Wait. We don't have diving gear. And saltwater plus my eyeballs equals torture.'
The Datu's boat slowed, stopping a little away from the entrance. Warriors began moving briskly, their quiet focus cutting through the rhythmic slap of waves against the hull.
"Warriors, ready the boat," the Datu commanded.
Evan and the kids stopped paddling. Letting their momentum carry them to the Datu's boat.
His eyes devoured every inch of the experience. Watching as the men worked with fluid precision. Two of them untied the mast and gently lifted it free. There was no sail, probably left behind at the village since this trip relied on paddles, not wind. The way they handled the mast, guiding it into the water, made it clear this was a very rehearsed maneuver.
'Didn't know masts can be taken down like that. Like unplugging a USB stick after you're done with work.'
"It seems we are late," the Datu said, his voice getting more audible as their small boat approached his. "The cave has already begun to close."
The Datu gave a low whistle, and the mast floated toward the cave entrance, steady as if tugged by invisible hands. The warriors slipped silently into the water, paddling beside the drifting log like guardians escorting a sacred relic.
The smaller boat drew closer. The air near the cliffs felt cooler, the light dimmer.
"Bring your oars into the boat," the Datu called over the sound of splashing. "And crouch down if you don't want to swim. Yet."
Evan quickly yanked his oars inside, nearly whacking the kid next to him in the face. He muttered a quick sorry and they all ducked low. They then felt their boat guided by hands, presumably from the warriors in the water, guiding them into the cave just like the mast.
Evan crouched lower. The air grew cooler, the sound of waves replaced by the echoing drip of unseen water. The stone ceiling dipped so low he could see ripples of reflected light dancing along it.
He felt a breath of air on his back and turned.
The cave wasn't like the videos he watched before. Those were tight spaces illuminated by blue or green lights reflected off gems in the cave.
This one wasn't just big, it was colossal. The ceiling rose so high it vanished into pitch-black darkness, an endless vault where shadows shifted and fluttered. He squinted, and for a moment, thought he saw movement up there. Tiny streaks, hundreds of them. Bats maybe, weaving lazy circles like living smoke.
But what stunned him more wasn't the darkness above. It was the light below.
Despite the cave's mouth being so narrow, the interior shimmered. Light spilled through five distinct points around the cavern. Cracks in the ceiling, holes in the cliff face, perhaps even hidden air vents that connected to the world outside. Each opening scattered sunlight differently: one beam sliced straight down like a column from heaven ready to give anyone who stood beneath it a quest. Another refracted across wet stone giving a section of the water inside the cave a blue-green tint.
Evan turned slowly, absorbing it all. The air is cooler but softer than the outside. Each cool breeze reminded him of that 22 celsius air conditioner that he took for granted.
Then he saw their destination.
At the far end of the cave stood a massive stone formation jutting straight from the water. It rose like a tower, with a slope spiraling around it. Made by man or nature, he couldn't judge.
Behind them, the warriors let go of the small boat. They were already swimming back toward the entrance, their strokes smooth and unhurried. He guessed they were heading out to guide the Datu's larger vessel through the narrow opening.
"Bring out your oars," the kid at the bow called out, his voice echoing off the stone.
They obeyed, dipping their paddles into the calm, shadow-painted water. Ripples shimmered outward as they glided toward the base of the rock tower.
Up close, the formation revealed its strange shape. The lower slopes disappeared beneath the water, hidden under dark water that the refracted lights of the cave struggled to illuminate. In the dim light, Evan could make out a few ridges beneath the surface, ghostly shapes that hinted at more terraces spiraling downward into the depths.
'Who made this and why here? This feels more at home in a European fairy tale than in ancient Philippines'. The brick-work synonymous with European towers wasn't there but the big structure definitely evokes some gallantry.
Their boat knocked gently against the base of the tower with a hollow thud. The sound echoed faintly through the cave. The children scrambled to steady themselves, then began clambering out one by one, leaving their paddles resting inside the boat. The stones beneath their feet were slick and cool, worn smooth by centuries of tides.
Evan looked around for a place to tie the boat, but the slope offered no rope, no hooks, no footholds. Only the curved surface of the stone, angled just right to give their feet some purchase, descending straight into the sea.
As he hesitated, a warrior strode past. The man had retrieved a basket that had been floating nearby and now balanced it easily on his shoulder. He caught Evan's uncertain look and gestured toward the water.
"Leave it there," he said.
Evan frowned. "Here? In the water?"
The warrior gave him a knowing smile. "Don't worry," he said, amusement flickering in his tone. "Sharks won't take it."