Rhys of Earth - excerpt
Chapter 19: night at sea
Rhys took hold of the metal safety railing positioned at the primary mast’s base. “Are you hurt?” he shouted over the storm’s fury.
Lyruc shook his head. “Thanks – ”
Without warning Themis rolled forward violently and then bucked upward stripping Rhys’ fingers from the safety railing and tossing him down the length of the deck. Kallen’s shrill screech followed him.
Thinking quickly Rhys turned on his stomach and groped for anything – wood, metal, rope, cord. Momentarily his fingers caught something hard, but his momentum snapped his grip. He slammed into the outer railing on the far end of the deck and flew into the sea’s watery embrace.
For several long moments, Rhys tossed and tumbled in the black abyss. He rolled and flipped under the waves before his face finally breached the surface. He took a gulp of air and attempted to steady himself, but another wave pounded him back underwater. He scrambled for air once more only to be beaten back down.
Twirling and rolling Rhys remained just under the water’s surface. Head-over-heels he somersaulted through the violent tumult of water wildly fighting to reach the surface.
No matter how he and Pathos attempted to read the wave patterns and coordinate his movements, the force of the storm’s fury managed to find him and pummel him back into the sea’s black depths. He straddled the line between life and death.
The sea was merciless. Not only did it strip him of air but of his clothes. His shirt was ripped from his body and his pants torn from his hips. He was a defenseless human against one of man’s greatest nemeses.
Time ceased to have meaning. Exhaustion plagued him and his body ached. His lungs were tight from swallowing so much water. He wanted to quit. Every time he went under, he told himself to stop fighting – he just wanted the tortuous struggle to end – but something kept pushing him. It wasn’t Pathos, for the AI was rendered useless in the physically stressful situation. No matter the data downloaded on oceanic survival, Pathos could do nothing to control the waves around him. His will to survive was his alone. The AI which had functioned as a support system his entire existence could not offer any support against the sea and its elements.
Again and again he resigned himself to his fate and accepted his death. But it never came. He kept fighting and struggling, clawing his way back to the surface. Instinct took hold of his mind and body and soon became the only thing driving him, powering him through the waves.
His mind shut down. No thoughts passed between him and Pathos. He could feel nothing, see nothing, hear nothing. All life-support energy was directed to his limbs and lungs. The sea had him in its claws, but instinct had a vice grip-like grasp on his life.
Several times he thought he saw a beam of light searching the waters but lightning flashed overhead and he was reminded once more that he was alone in the watery grave.
Minutes passed; hours passed.
How long had he been in the water? How long could he keep going? Eventually the skies lightened and the waves began to come over Rhys in patterns that Pathos could read. Allowing the AI full control of his body, Rhys rose and fell with the waves, breathing at the trough and swimming at the crest. His body fell into a meditative and automatic rhythm; his mind shut off and he focused on survival, whatever that meant.
When he next looked at the skies, the storm clouds had moved to the horizon and the heavens were a faint blue. It was dawn. Though the waves were still enormous and required his full attention, he couldn’t help but feel some happiness knowing that, at least for now, he had defeated night. Rhys fell back into his automatic swimming and breathing pattern. He needed to keep going. He could make it back to Firekli if he needed to, right?
Something touched his back and suddenly hands began dragging him from the water. He couldn’t still his arms and legs. He had to keep swimming.
“Rhys, Rhys!”
Rhys snapped from his trance and, realizing that he was no longer weightless, heaved for air. He could finally take a full breath! Dizzy, exhausted, and weak, he fell backward into the dinghy. Immediately blankets wrapped around him and Kallen held him to the boat. He could see others in the dinghy with them, but he couldn’t make out who they were. He was safe. He could breathe, he could stop moving. Immediately Pathos knocked him unconscious.
Lyruc shook his head. “Thanks – ”
Without warning Themis rolled forward violently and then bucked upward stripping Rhys’ fingers from the safety railing and tossing him down the length of the deck. Kallen’s shrill screech followed him.
Thinking quickly Rhys turned on his stomach and groped for anything – wood, metal, rope, cord. Momentarily his fingers caught something hard, but his momentum snapped his grip. He slammed into the outer railing on the far end of the deck and flew into the sea’s watery embrace.
For several long moments, Rhys tossed and tumbled in the black abyss. He rolled and flipped under the waves before his face finally breached the surface. He took a gulp of air and attempted to steady himself, but another wave pounded him back underwater. He scrambled for air once more only to be beaten back down.
Twirling and rolling Rhys remained just under the water’s surface. Head-over-heels he somersaulted through the violent tumult of water wildly fighting to reach the surface.
No matter how he and Pathos attempted to read the wave patterns and coordinate his movements, the force of the storm’s fury managed to find him and pummel him back into the sea’s black depths. He straddled the line between life and death.
The sea was merciless. Not only did it strip him of air but of his clothes. His shirt was ripped from his body and his pants torn from his hips. He was a defenseless human against one of man’s greatest nemeses.
Time ceased to have meaning. Exhaustion plagued him and his body ached. His lungs were tight from swallowing so much water. He wanted to quit. Every time he went under, he told himself to stop fighting – he just wanted the tortuous struggle to end – but something kept pushing him. It wasn’t Pathos, for the AI was rendered useless in the physically stressful situation. No matter the data downloaded on oceanic survival, Pathos could do nothing to control the waves around him. His will to survive was his alone. The AI which had functioned as a support system his entire existence could not offer any support against the sea and its elements.
Again and again he resigned himself to his fate and accepted his death. But it never came. He kept fighting and struggling, clawing his way back to the surface. Instinct took hold of his mind and body and soon became the only thing driving him, powering him through the waves.
His mind shut down. No thoughts passed between him and Pathos. He could feel nothing, see nothing, hear nothing. All life-support energy was directed to his limbs and lungs. The sea had him in its claws, but instinct had a vice grip-like grasp on his life.
Several times he thought he saw a beam of light searching the waters but lightning flashed overhead and he was reminded once more that he was alone in the watery grave.
Minutes passed; hours passed.
How long had he been in the water? How long could he keep going? Eventually the skies lightened and the waves began to come over Rhys in patterns that Pathos could read. Allowing the AI full control of his body, Rhys rose and fell with the waves, breathing at the trough and swimming at the crest. His body fell into a meditative and automatic rhythm; his mind shut off and he focused on survival, whatever that meant.
When he next looked at the skies, the storm clouds had moved to the horizon and the heavens were a faint blue. It was dawn. Though the waves were still enormous and required his full attention, he couldn’t help but feel some happiness knowing that, at least for now, he had defeated night. Rhys fell back into his automatic swimming and breathing pattern. He needed to keep going. He could make it back to Firekli if he needed to, right?
Something touched his back and suddenly hands began dragging him from the water. He couldn’t still his arms and legs. He had to keep swimming.
“Rhys, Rhys!”
Rhys snapped from his trance and, realizing that he was no longer weightless, heaved for air. He could finally take a full breath! Dizzy, exhausted, and weak, he fell backward into the dinghy. Immediately blankets wrapped around him and Kallen held him to the boat. He could see others in the dinghy with them, but he couldn’t make out who they were. He was safe. He could breathe, he could stop moving. Immediately Pathos knocked him unconscious.