David Revilla [Revilla - The River Styx

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The River Styx

David Revilla

Acknowledgements

More than twenty years ago, I started writing stories on loose-leaf paper with a pencil. Publishing my first work electronically would seem like something out of a science-fiction novel to the younger me. All I can say is that its been a long time cominglonger still considering that I hope to have a print copy of my novel published someday.

I want to thank Barry Curry for coming up with a great book cover. Thank you, Barry, for putting up with all my minor changes and for being prompt in your responses. Also, a shout out to Steven Montano for directing me to you in the first place.

I also want to thank K.N. Lee for being supportive and answering any seemingly obvious questions I had on Facebook. Believe it or not, Kendra, you were a big help and I hope to discuss story ideas with you over coffee one day.

Also, to all my underground writer friends, you know who you are. We shared stories, plots, character developments, and criticisms like we were lifelong friends. The time I spent writing with you guys has been one of the best experiences of my life. I encourage you to keep writing and never give up on your endeavors.

Dad, youve shown me the key to success is through a good education and a lot of hard work. Guess what? They both paid out.

And Mom, what else can I say but thank you for believing in me and always supporting my dreams. All I am today, I am because of you.

2014 David Revilla

All rights reserved.

Cover by Barry Curry

This is a work of fiction. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author.

The River Styx

One

The storm had taken everything from her.

Hope was alive, but at what cost? She was floating aimlessly on a tranquil sea, her battered body shaking on the wreckage of what had once been part of a ship. She was cold, shivering. Huddled as she was, Hope resembled a soggy ball with shoulder-length chestnut-brown hair. She hugged her knees to her chest, trying to keep warm. Hypothermia was beginning to set in and Hope had lost feeling beneath her shins. Shed lost her shoes during the storm and had not been able to move her feet since.

She would die here, she knew. It wouldnt be long now. She just wondered why is it she had survived when no one else did. Why live just to die later? She would have preferred to die with those she cared about rather than alone. Out here she had no one to comfort her. There was no one to offer kind words or rub her trembling shoulders to keep her warm.

The wreckage she was on was long enough for her to lay out flat on her back, which is how Hope had woken up. She could not remember much about the events that preceded her awakening, only that it was full of thunder, wind, and a terrible noise. Hope remembered the water consuming her. She recalled how the darkness stole every sensible thought from her mind, leaving a terrified husk of a girl in her death throes. When she came to, her body ached all over and she was still alive. Not that it mattered much now.

It was remarkably quiet. The sea was lifeless. The blue-black water was still and silent, a distant gray ceiling blotting out anything resembling a celestial body. The dawn, if it could be called that, was barely warm enough to sooth her freezing body. How long shed been drifting she could not say. Minutes? Hours? Days? It didnt matter. All that mattered was what to do with the time allotted. For Hope, who was shaking so hard it proved difficult to think, she could only count the heartbeats until she finally succumbed to the end.

A voice carried on the wind. At first she thought it a trick until she recalled there had been no wind not a moment before. Sound is carried by air, so when another voice followed the first, and then a third, Hope lifted her gaze from her knocking knees and peered pass by the wet strands of hair to seea ship?

While still far away, the fourteen-year old girl could make out an elongated construct with a single row of oars protruding from its side. The oars propelled the ship across the surface of the water, moving at a steady but determined pace. The ship was long, well over forty feet in length if her eyes could still discern size from this distance. A single mast shot up from the middle like a great tree, its main sail down as there was no wind to carry it. Along the deck, Hope spotted several moving dotspeople most likelytwo of which seemed to be arguing by their tones. A third joined in and soon the disagreement became a full-on confrontation.

Hope could hear threats and obscenities being hurled between them and one of the figures seemed to attack the other. Her ears couldnt make out the details, but by the sound of it one of the voices was female by the more melodic tone. Somebody screamed, and thats when Hope raised her head up high. She hadn't been hallucinating. It was a ship! Her rescue! She had to get their attention.

Hopes voice was nearly gone. The only thing she managed, with some effort, to get out was a gurgled cough. The exertion to speak caused a coughing fit that pushed the final remnants of water out of her lungs. Hope fell to her side, knocking the side of her head against the surface of the wreckage. It wasnt a strong collision, but in her weakened state it felt like a sledgehammer had just connected with her temple. Hope was on the verge of blacking out and only the sounds of conflicting voices reminded her of why she was trying to remain awake.

It would be so cruel if the ship passed her by without seeing her. Like dangling water in the reach of a thirsty man only to pull it away at the last second, it was a temptation Hope could not ignore. She tried to speak again, drips of water falling from her clenched teeth as her jaw tried to remember how to talk. She did manage a less than convincing gasp before she began to cough again.

Meanwhile, the ship, or galley as it was, continued passing her by.

H-Helpme she mouthed though no sound came out. If shed the strength, Hope would have tried to swim, but judging from the ships speed and the length of distance between them, it would have been long gone by the time she reached its wake. She couldnt swim. She couldnt call out. She couldnt even laugh at the absurdity of her situation. In all the tales shed heard about the sea, none could come close to her irony. She survived a sinking ship only to watch her one chance at rescue sail her by.

There was another scream, of whom she could not tellnor care for at this pointwhen there came such a bellow from the ship that Hope felt it even from her distance. The dueling voices fell silent and the oars on the vessel came to a complete stop; their ends rose to a resting position just a few feet above the water. Someone started complaining, a whiny voice that carried a pampered tenor, when a second bellow overpowered it completely.

Hope focused her eyes. Through her haze, like looking through glass on a rainy day, she could make out someone really tall and really big standing up. It seemed to rise out of the vessel, a giant of a man whose muscles glinted even from afar. He was a hairless man with mud-brown skin, and when he growled the others held their tongue. All but one. This one, the woman it seemed, pointed something shiny at the giant who stood undaunted by her threatening gesture. She momentarily turned back to the man she had been arguing with, pointing the object his way before turning back on the giant, her tone no less adamant about making her point.

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