Of the three enchantments that Lirillin had cast on me, Navigation was the one I was least familiar with. The Listen enchantment let me hear the world around me, while the Automation enchantment on the oars let them move without anyone having to actually row the oars. The Navigation enchantment was the piece of the equation that let the boat get from point A to point B, but unlike the other two enchantments it wasn’t something that interacted with me.
I didn’t know how intentional that was. Lirillin had summoned me to be the motive spirit for the boat, whatever that meant. It could mean that I was merely the power supply for the other enchantments he had added, or I could be more fundamental, the entity that embodied the boat and that everything else was added to. If the latter was true, then the Navigation enchantment would simply be waiting there, part of me to use whenever I wanted to. If I was already exceeding my original intentions by tapping into the rowing and hearing enchantments, then it should be possible to push my limits that little bit further to gain access to the last enchantment on the boat.
That didn’t mean it would be easy in either case. Moving and hearing were things I was familiar with, inputs and outputs that could easily slot into my understanding of the world. Navigation was stranger, especially considering whatever oddity was affecting my voyage to and from town.
I didn’t consider myself an expert navigator, but living and working in Chicago and its many one-way streets meant I had a decent education on the logistics of getting around efficiently. But that talent had never come into play, had never even twigged as Navigation had apparently worked its magic, even when doing something as simple as rowing straight up the coast.
I was tempted to say that I was only ever travelling in a straight line, that I hadn’t felt like I was navigating because I hadn’t been, but that theory didn’t quite fit. Besides the unresolved question of how I never had to turn around to get home, I needed to keep in mind the fact that Lirillin would not have added the Navigation enchantment to me if it wasn’t necessary. If he only planned on using me as a prototype to carry him to and from town, and if that could be done by having the oars simply row steadily, then Lirillin should have been happy to leave the Navigation enchantment off, especially when the total sum of enchantments he had cast was over my initial ability to permanently sustain.
Instead, the Navigation enchantment had been cast first, was the most solidly emplaced and foundational of the three enchantments, which spoke to its significance. If the Listening enchantment broke then Lirillin couldn’t leave whatever port I was in or headed to, but would get there safely. If the Automation enchantment broke, Lirillin would be stranded either in the open ocean, forced to row his way back to land by hand, or would again be stuck in port. I didn't know what the consequences of the Navigation enchantment breaking were, but the implication was that the outcome was the worst of the three, or at least as equally unpleasant as being stranded on the ocean. Moreover, it suggested that while Lirillin had shown the ability to pull the oars himself even if he lacked the desire to do so, manually compensating for the Navigation enchantment was beyond him. That could be a sign that his personal navigation skills were lacking, but considering his academic and magical prowess a better hypothesis was that there was something unusual happening with the geography that needed a specialized solution. A solution that was extremely complex, based in a field of magic I knew nothing about, and yet was currently my only hope of learning more about the navigation problem so I would have a chance of surviving on my own.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Still, even if Navigation was a black box, I could still poke around to see what I could do with it. I might not be able to speak out loud, but I don’t think I needed to. Navigation was a part of me, and I should be able to tell it what I wanted directly.
‘Take me to Shellpin Bay’ I thought, focusing my intentions as clearly as I could. Almost as soon as I thought of the destination my oars began to move, digging into the water as they tried to orient my hull to start heading towards Shellpin Bay, only to immediately run afoul of my tie-line.
‘Stop!’ I frantically commanded, not wanting to break anything until the right moment. Just as quickly as they had begun to move the oars came to a halt, returning to their resting positions while the taut rope slowly pulled me back towards the dock I was tied to.
Pleased that I could indeed use the Navigation enchantment when I wanted, I tried for a second command. ‘Take me to Lirillin’s Lighthouse.’
Nothing happened.
In this case, having the enchantment fail to activate was more helpful than it mindlessly taking me wherever I wanted. Further testing showed that I couldn’t get it to activate to navigate me to any spot that I could see, but that I could request generic directions such as ‘out to sea’, or ‘down the coast’. I always cancelled those commands as soon as I felt myself begin to move, but I slowly gained familiarity with this strange ability.
My inability to activate it to get to a location that I could see made it pretty clear that it wasn’t actually doing any navigating as I would understand it. The enchantment wasn’t concerned with physical navigation, but instead provided whatever mystical or metaphysical force was needed to overcome whatever curse or strange property made normal travelling impossible. This meant that I could freely override the oars while they were trying to row me somewhere, without breaking whatever effect Navigation had on the boat. It might be possible to row the wrong way and not end up at the destination that Navigation was taking me towards, but it meant I wouldn’t be locked into my destination. I could stop, maneuver, and head elsewhere whenever I wanted.
With this, it felt like I had all the pieces necessary to make my escape. Next time Lirillin took me into town, I would have my opportunity. I would have my freedom.