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Oathbound: Dreaming Ryl by Rei Vegan, 2012

Chapter 1: A Ship Below the Stars • • •

Ryl laid still in the cargo netting off the side of the ship. Warm air drifted over him as he stared into the deep azure of the nearly black sky. Familiar stars punctuated the void.

Ryl never slept well while the ship was between ports. Irrational thoughts of shipwrecking would allow only brief moments of unconsciousness on some trips. This being one of those trips, he knew he had to be on deck in the morning and another sleepless night would do him and his duties little good. Here he laid; swaying gently back and forth in the cargo netting.

While the rhythmic motion was welcoming, the fact that the netting was a few feet over the portside rail was a little unnerving. The rigging above the deck blocked his view of the stars he so loved to stare at when his mind was clouded. This was the only spot on the ship with an unobstructed view. There they were; exactly where he had left them before The Celerity left port.

It wasn't until Ryl had been asleep for more than twenty minutes, awoken by a jostle that he realized that he had managed to actually fall asleep followed by the much more frightening prospect of falling off the netting. He quickly and frantically caught his breath and looked over to see Ol' Zoot grinning untoothily at him.

"Zoot! Ire and blood; I thought I was going to die!"

Zoot cackled hoarsely at the boy's indignance, "Well lil'master Ryl, if y'sleep in tha webs y'be think'n less and dying more!"

The hacking laughter of the ship's nightwatch eventually died to a dull wheezing while Ryl gathered his wits again.

"Wat'r y'doing in the swings lil'master?" Zoot asked the boy, quickly and hushedly shifting his tone from humor to intense curiosity.

Ryl had never grown accustomed to Ol' Zoot's nuanced social pacing. He laid back into the netting, attempting to recapture the essence of what ever it was that let him fall asleep. After a deep breath and sigh, Ryl was about to answer before he was interrupted.

"Mind's chatter'n again isn't't?" Zoot mumbled, leaning over the railing a bit, "Lil'master's thoughts flutter'n bout his head, hm?"

Ryl shifted uncomfortably in the netting, trying to concentrate on the stars as they began to fade behind an approaching mist.

"Seems'a tale, but Ol' Zoot was young too once," Zoot's hand grasped the netting again, his voice dropping to a dry whisper "Ol' Zoot's young thoughts flutter'd n'kept'm awake then too lil'master."

The awkward silence was punctuated by a cold wind that seemed to sweep up from beneath Ryl. He found himself relieved of worries of shipwreck and more on the intention of a grizzled nightwatchman's uncomfortable pause.

"As does all of our thoughts at such an age, Mister Zoot." Came a stern yet calm voice.

Zoot let the netting go, snapping upright and pounding his fist to his far shoulder obediently, "Good morn'n Master Tris! Clear skies Master Tris!"

"Very good Mister Zoot," said the voice; the very sound of it seeming to drain away Ryl's worries, "Why don't you go check the skies starboard then."

Ol' Zoot popped on a heel and scuttled off to the far side of the ship, making space on the rail for the ship's Overseer to lean on.

"Overseer, I'm sorry, it's morning, I should be on deck." Ryl stammered as he fumbled in the netting.

"Easy Rylet," cooed the overseer, reaching out with a steadying hand on the deckboy's shoulder.

Ryl looked up to her face. Tris was smiling down at him concernedly in the sort of way he imagined a parent might. Ryl couldn't help but smile back a little, feeling a little sheepish being found in the Celerity's cargo netting.

"It's a plunge I'd rather you not take today." She finished, easing him back down into the netting, "Besides, it's only barely morning. Your duties won't officially start for at least another hour."

Ryl cleared his throat and his expression, trying to reassert a more mature demeanor suiting of a deckboy aboard a Magistrate's glider.

Of all the crew aboard, Overseer Tris was the only one who really knew Ryl. It was almost a year ago Rylet was caught stealing food from storage. He was a "dock rat." Hence his name. When Ol' Zoot brought him above deck to be dealt with as the Magistrate demands all dock rats be dealt with, Tris spared his life. They had recently promoted their old deckboy and were in need of a fresh one. While the position was typically reserved for more deserving, educated youths, Tris swore on her office that this waif was worthy of the position. Ryl was a bit old for the position, but not old or experienced enough to be anything but a deckboy. He was also old enough to know that if he made any single simple mistake, it would be Overseer Tris that paid for it.

The Overseer was strict at first, though not as strict as she could have been. Ryl learned that life aboard The Celerity left little time for more than eating and sleeping. The number of crew barely met the requirement to keep the ship afloat. The Magistrate's shipments had to arrive on time, every time; Overseer Tris would have no less, despite the pay being a pittance of services rendered.

Ryl was expected to do the jobs that everyone else was too busy with real work to do; cleaning and hauling being the majority of that work. Ryl was spry to begin with, not starving and motivated to fulfill his oathbound duties to the best of his abilities quickly honed his body into peak performance. The crew were expected to be skilled combatants, as the courses The Celerity set were often through Rigger territories, Ryl set himself to the task of training with Tris with the same fervor as any of his other tasks. However, The Celerity was a fast ship and hadn't seen open combat during Ryl's term to date.

"Night terrors of shipwreck again?"

Ryl looked away, having being made to feel childish again, "I can't dream if I can't sleep."

"You also can't work if you can't sleep."

Ryl looked up at the Overseer, the smile gone now. He missed that smile. It came out so inoften, "I was sleeping on the cargo netting," he explained.

"Where you can see the stars." The Overseer finished. She leaned on the other arm now, and looked out at the fading moon as it began to also be consumed in the gathering mists, "Some say," she began, "that it's in our dreams where we truly live."

Ryl's eyes were fixed on the Overseer's eyes. There was something about the way the moonlight gleamed in her eye: A little more clearly perhaps.

"-and that we're just dreaming this life."

A strange thing for the normally grounded Overseer to say, and then with all that seriousness she turned her gaze into his, "Or is it that we are the ones being dreamt?"

Ryl had noticed Tris had seemed to be troubled for the better part of the past week. A strange look on her face would seem to take her thoughts elsewhere. This was that strange look now piercing Ryl. For the first time Ryl could remember he thought he saw a sad uncertainty in the Overseer's eyes.

A strange sense of euphoria creeped up along the back of Ryl's skull. Like something that needed to be communicated wouldn't be. Like that moment before you wake up from a night terror, but you're still certain the danger is real.

The moonlight was snuffed out like a cold-burning candle in a room with no windows. The desperate cry of the nightwatchman cut short by a thundering explosion and a hundred shards of splintered wood and burning metal.

The Celerity lurched portside. Ropes snapped, and Ryl nearly dropped off of the netting, now only hanging on by tattered threads. The deckboy hung on as tighly as he could, still reeling, trying to grasp whether what was happening was real, or just another horrible dream. Two more deafening explosions, preempted only by a haunting whistling echo, keeled the ship the other way.

The Riggers were here. They found The Celerity. This is real. These thoughts hit Ryl all at once.

With the ship tilted nearly on its starboard, Ryl doubled his grip on the torn netting, and planted his feet on the hull of ship. He sprinted towards the bow, arcing upward as The Celerity swung downward. Letting go of the netting as the netting let go of the ship, the deckboy flew into the open air above the ship.

Two more impacts struck the ship as it keeled portside one last time. Ropes and rigging whistled past him in the blink of an eye. Half of the crew who had made it on deck were thrown overboard as The Celerity overturned.

Ryl landed on the capsized ship painfully hard. He was sure he felt something inside his leg snap, accompanied by shooting pains he had never experienced the likes of in his life and screamed. He grabbed onto anything he could to keep from sliding off of the smooth surface of the ship's hull. His fingers found purchase on ventral hatch. Fighting through the pain he managed to open the hatch and fall into the ship.

All was silent. Ryl opened his eyes and hoped for a moment that what had happened was another night terror. The pain in his right knee told him otherwise. The room was accented with an eerie teal light. It crawled from one wall before dancing to another. Even though the room was upside down, Ryl knew he had never been in this part of the ship before. He could hear footsteps overhead and voices in a strange language. Angry words. On the far side of the room, beyond the support pillars where the light seemed to be coming from, he heard wet coughing.

As he rounded the corner he saw the last person he wanted to see in what was clearly her last moments. Tris was covered in scorch marks, and riddled with shrapnel. She was bleeding. There was more blood pooling around her than Ryl imagined a person had inside them. She looked up at the deckboy and managed a weakened smile, "I knew you'd make it down here."

Ryl was frozen in place. His pain suddenly pale in comparison to the unfathomable fear he was experiencing right now. Instinctively he knew he had to do something. He leapt forward then stopped, inches away from her.

Do something. Anything! His mind screamed at him.

"No Ryl. There's nothing you can do for me." She said softly, with surprising clarity.

Ryl wanted to say something. Nothing seemed right to say. The closest thing to a mother he had ever had was about to die, and there was nothing he could say or do to stop that from happening.

With a shaky, bloody hand, the Overseer pulled Ryl into a gentle embrace. Stunned, he wrapped his arms around her sides. The wet heat of her last life-blood, soaked through into his clothing against him. He couldn't recall a time when he was held. Before anything but shock could set in, she spoke to him.

"My Deckboy. I have one last order for you."

The far door to the room splintered, as the Riggers began to break their way in.

"Behind you is our cargo."

The inner door burst from its hinges.

"It mustn't reach its destination."

Hurried, heavy footsteps echoed from down the room.

"Remember the oath I swore for you."

Ryl looked back at the rush of Riggers, nearly upon them now, then back to Tris, her smile gone. He rose, sodden with Tris's blood. He stood up straight, battling every childish urge in his body to ball up, hold the only family he ever had, to break down and give up. He put his fist to his far shoulder and answered, "Aye, Overseer."

Ryl put his back to and grabbed onto the large glowing metal and glass canister, reached over and pulled a lever next to the pillar. The lower-hold door whirred to life overhead, letting in the dim sunlight of the new day through the dissipating mists. The Riggers moved in for the kill too late as the latches holding the cargo released.

Ryl and Tris shared one last moment before the canister ejected from the hold and into the sky. The light of dawn shone clearly in her eyes as she whispered, "My Rylet" with pride.

Ryl held tightly to the heavy metal canister for his life now. What was certain death at the hands of Riggers was now only nearly certain death at the whim of nature.

The cargo reached the apex of it's ejection. The smoking remains of the Magistrate's glider-class skyship The Celerity alongside the two ravager-class Rigger ships coasted peacefully out of the way beneath Ryl and his charge.

The descent began.