Joshua Stavick

Tag: gay mermaid stories

  • Of Depth and Deception (Chapter 1)

    Of Depth and Deception (Chapter 1)

    The full book is available on Amazon here.

    Chapter 1
    Skehl

    Skehl fixed his eyes on those two distant glows, fleeing into the ocean’s black night. His heart fluttered. At last, this sham of a “hunt” was nearing its end. 

    Mustering all he had left, he grunted through his hours-deep exhaustion, ignored the throbbing ache of his muscles, and beat his tail with a ravenous fervor, eager to close the distance. He had somewhere else he soon needed to be, and he would not accept being late on account of clan deserters with inconvenient timing. 

    “We aren’t going to harm you,” he shouted as he neared.

    The deserters only pressed on, their tails whipping up plumes of bubbles as they went. They were slowing, though—the smaller one especially.

    A bright flash from behind, and a crackling warmth enveloped Skehl, pricking his scales and skin like urchin needles. He didn’t flinch or fear despite the ocean itself quivering around him. It was a familiar sensation: his sister’s power. 

    The deserters must have felt it too, for they halted; the gills on their necks fanning for breaths as they turned to face those they believed to be their executioners.

    Skehl approached, his gills and chest heaving, his webbed-hands held out at his sides. 

    “We don’t want to harm you,” he said. “I promise.” 

    The deserters floated hand-in-hand, both eyeing him with furrowed brows and understandable skepticism. 

    He was used to that. 

    Briefly, he explained their intention—his and his sister’s—as all four of them floated together in the bubble of light cast from their collective glows. How they wanted not to punish, but to save.

    “All we need is for you to let my sister Shock you both around the wrists,” he said, numb to how insane the proposal sounded after having offered it to countless other deserters in recent months. “Then you’ll be free to go. No questions will be raised and no one else will come looking for you. You have my word.”

    “Why?” the older deserter asked as she maneuvered the younger one behind her. They were siblings, clearly.

    “It’s complicated,” Skehl said. “Please, just trust when I say it’s the only way we can let you go.”

    “W–will it hurt?” the young boy asked, poking his head around his sister’s side.

    “Yes,” Skehl said, almost in a whisper. “Yes, it will.”

    He peered into the boy’s moonful eyes—glistening and violet and young. Too young to lead a life like this, fleeing his home. 

    And such bravery… 

    “We’ll do it together, though. All of us.” Skehl offered a wan smile as he held out his hands. One to the boy, sunrise-red. The other to the older sister, her own scales and skin a warm summer-kelp green, dressed in a tattered shawl of red seaweed. “I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

    The older sister flared her nostrils and huffed. She put on a tough front—bony shoulders wide, her expression cold and fearless. But she didn’t struggle against him. Didn’t resist. Not with Skehl’s sister there, her brilliant magenta glow the brightest of them all, pressing over them with the might and command of a beautifully deadly sun.

    There was no fighting a Trenchguard such as her. The older sister understood that.

    She took Skehl’s hand and squeezed in a manner almost threatening—if not for how much she trembled. 

    He held tight to her and the boy both amidst the ocean’s cold, ceaseless swaying.

    “Just a quick Shock on the wrist,” he said. “Then it’ll all be over.”

    “So you say,” the older sister said, a bitterness in her tone.

    Skehl didn’t respond, just nodded to his sister. “We’re ready, Thressel.”

    Her tentacles came. Only three of the many that hung from the underside of the wide, pink jellyfish-like dome atop her head. Long and sinuous, each tentacle coiled around a bare, scale-flecked wrist; the siblings winced as the tiny barbs bit into their skin. But not Skehl. Experience had a way of dulling the pain, the thick callous and scars already marring his wrist. This was far from their first cheated assignment.

    White static crackled against skin. Blindingly bright. Burning.

    Skehl’s heart ached as the siblings screamed. He held in his own—just grin and bear it. This pain was the price of their freedom. And Skehl was happy to pay it with them, for it made all this easier, made his conscience lighter. 

    It helped him and Thressel, too. The Shock. Doing so provided enough truth to their story—enough sureness to their voices and calmness to their heart rates—that should they later be questioned by a Truthseer regarding the assignment, they could just skirt the edges of their lie. This was a trick they had learned from Thressel’s Tethien partner, being that Truthseeing was a skill unique to his kind.

    The white static dimmed, then died; Thressel drew back her tentacles.

    Skehl let go of the deserters’ hands and kicked off with his tail to allow them their space. Already, a surge of cool soothing was working its way through his arm and down to his wrist—lifelight flowing through his veins to begin the slow healing process. 

    The older sister held her brother and inspected his burned wrist, whispering sweet calm in the boy’s ear. Her tenderness reminded Skehl of his oldest sister: Binah. The ease and comfort she had been so adept at providing…

    Before Thressel had killed her.

    No—that’s not fair. He glanced at his sister, noted the distant stare in her eyes. More and more, she was like that. Right there beside him. Yet a thousand leagues away. Binah had killed herself when she Shattered her mind. Thressel had just put her out of her misery… 

    When I was too weak to.

    “Are we done?” the older sister asked.

    Skehl nodded.

    The boy flitted his gaze between his sister and Skehl as he held his trembling arm to his chest. “Where will we go?” 

    “I…,” the older sister paused, glancing all around, “We’ll figure it out. But anywhere is better than the trench.”

    Skehl disagreed, though he knew better than to say so. He didn’t want to frighten the boy any more than he already was.

    “I could look into a few options for you,” he offered. “Perhaps See which directions would be best to avoid.”

    At this, Thressel shook her head as if awakening from a daze. 

    “No!” she said, sharp and berating. “They made their choice. If they want to be digested in the belly of a shark or a sword-nosed shredder, let them. But I won’t have you wasting your lifelight on their behalf. Sparing them is enough.”

    Even the older sister recoiled from his offer, her eyes fixed on the white-ink swirl of blindness in his left eye—one of Seeing’s most perilous and common consequences. Only the boy appeared intrigued, his tail swishing under him, those bright, moonful eyes of his glinting with enthusiasm.

    And for Skehl, that was enough.

    “It won’t be a waste; I apprentice with the Tide’s Eyes,” he said, shooting Thressel a subtle but clear don’t-you-dare-contradict-me glare as his lie slipped out. He said it hoping to put the older sister at ease, but also to remind Thressel of her earlier promise. That this assignment would be quick, which it absolutely had not been. “Besides, what good is freedom if you die before you get to live it?”

    Thressel, to his great relief, kept her mouth shut and let him live in his lie.

    Though hopefully it won’t be a lie after today—if I can get back to the palace in time…

    The older sister looked around once more, desperation plain in the stress-crinkles framing her eyes.

    “Fine,” she said, pointedly avoiding Skehl’s gaze.

    He didn’t take it personally. Most Skaltressians were cautious around Seers. Stigma and superstitions had long bred fear and misunderstanding about what Seeing was, how it worked. Skehl had even met a few who were convinced that blindness was infectious. It wasn’t.

    They were just ignorant.

    He flared his gills for a long breath and calmed his mind. 

    Then, after a moment of deep focus and quiet…

    He Saw.

    It was a tricky process. One he had much experience with, though little understanding. All that he knew was due to Binah’s teachings during their short time together. Even now, seven years after her passing, he held every memory of her near his heart. Grateful to have had at least one sister who believed in him.

    Eyes still closed, Skehl focused on the deserters. Their safest paths. Immediately he dismissed any potential futures that would lead them west into the deeper waters beyond the imperial border. All knew well the stories of the prowling behemoths and entrapping whirlpools that lurked there. Yet even the shallower waters to the east held their own multitude of potential miseries: hazy visions of feral shivers of sharks, spontaneous swarmings of zapping jellyfish, various Reefguard and Trenchguard patrols. Not to mention the eight other clans, most of which would sooner spear them down than harbor them as refugees and risk the ire of the Skaltressian Tidal Family. 

    Death was everywhere. Inescapable.

    But none of this is certain, Skehl reminded himself. At least not yet…

    He heard muffled words, then. Unclear, but for the concern that soddened them.

    And as he began to pull back into himself—into the present—he fought to resist that familiar, nagging curiosity that always beckoned him deeper into the infinite depths of Time’s potential futures. That’s what made Seeing so dangerous; its allure was unlike any other. Taunting. Teasing. Almost entrancing.

    When he returned fully to the present, he opened his eyes and—

    “Skehl!” Thressel cried, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she shook him. “Are you alright?”

    He tried to answer, but his mind whirled and pounded, his thoughts all clotting together like a spring algae-bloom.

    His sister’s soft blue eyes were piercing, stricken red.

    “I’m fine,” he finally managed to say before rubbing his eyes and turning to the deserters. “Swim northeast. There might” — or might not — “be a pod of Twanderian researchers out there. They’re likely to offer help.”

    “You’re certain that’s our best chance?” the older sister asked, holding her brother close. 

    Skehl told them what Binah used to say: “The future is not known for its certainty. But, yes. That’s your best chance.”

    The older sister nodded and said, “Thank you. I never expected such… strange kindness from Trenchguards.”

    “She’s the Trenchguard.” Skehl tossed a thumb at his sister. “I’m just her brother.”

    And with that, the siblings kicked off, their glows soon swallowed by the depths and darkness.

    “You’re sure you’re alright?” Thressel asked, a distance returning to her voice as it adopted a soft monotone.

    At least she cares enough to ask…

    “Yeah. Just a headache, is all.”

    Thressel held his gaze for a moment, then turned to look out across the endless ocean after the deserters. There was that longing in her eyes again. As if some part of her wanted to leave with them. Start a new life of her own. She was strong, yes. But hers was not a killer’s nature. Never was. Perhaps that was why she had taken to her new Trenchguard position with such a heavy heart. She had gone from a Protector, responsible for finding and jailing thieves and petty criminals, to a Retriever, tasked with hunting down and killing clan enemies and deserters. It was arguably a simpler position—better paying, too. But it demanded something darker from her. Made her colder. Even after they had found a way for her to avoid killing, to cheat.

    Skehl swam up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. He wanted to say something, comfort her. Remind her that this was their home. Here—these waters, the trench—was where they belonged. Where he needed them to stay. Even if just for a few more years…

    But he held his tongue. Said none of that. 

    Words were hard sometimes.

    Instead, he gave her a squeeze and nodded back towards the trench. That somewhere else he needed to be was an entrance exam for the Tide’s Eyes—the trench’s most illustrious order of Master Seers. Should he pass, it would change both their lives for the better. He would learn to hone and control his Seeing ability, and Thressel could finally retire from the Trenchguard. Maybe even rediscover some of that innocence and peace it had stolen from her. 

    But I’ll never pass if I don’t make it there in time…

    “We should start back,” he said, kicking off.

    Thressel didn’t answer, didn’t follow.

    Skehl hated to pressure her; clearly, she was dealing with troubles of her own. But he had waited years for this opportunity. Had supported her in nearly every way a brother could regarding her wants and dreams. It was her turn this time. Just this once. 

    Because the Eyes don’t offer second chances…

    He was about to encourage her again until Thressel finally kicked off after him, saying, “Sure. There’s always more…”

    Skehl winced at the lifelessness of her voice, the drooping of her shoulders.

    When she caught up with him, he smiled, nudged her in the side, and said, “Yeah. We’ve still got some bodies to find.” 

    He hoped his jovial tone and playful words might brighten her mood or lift her spirit. 

    They didn’t. 

    So, they swam on. Together. 

    And in silence.

    Read Chapter 2 here!

  • Of Depth and Deception (Chapter 3)

    Of Depth and Deception (Chapter 3)

    The full book is available on Amazon here.

    Chapter 3
    Rader

    After two long weeks riding various westerly currents through uninspiring stretches of open ocean, Rader arrived at last before the Aghata Trench — not to the usual glamor and pomp that greeted him, but to the quiet puzzlement of two mere Skaltressian Trenchguards, utterly dumbstruck by his arrival.

    What a clever Tide, pretending not to have known of my coming.

    He loomed over the Trenchguards, the steady swish of his obsidian-black tail keeping him balanced and poised amidst the ocean’s gentle morning sway. Disbelief kept them frozen before him, their mouths agape.

    “Hm,” was all he said, affecting an uninterested tone.

    They remembered their places, then, practically throwing themselves into deep bows.

    Rader looked past them with practiced disdain, his gold-flecked blue eyes flaring with a fierce glow, like small white suns. He knew his role. He played it masterfully.

    The younger of the two Trenchguards— a boy with long, pleated tentacles that glowed a rich blue—stole a curious glance across Rader’s body, then back down to the trench’s vanishing blackness. He was quick, yes. Both daring and demure in equal measure. But Rader was quicker, spotting precisely what he had most longed for throughout his long journey: a comely face, blushing.

    The Emperion grinned, flitting his eyes once more over the boy, drinking in all his most alluring features: toned arms, broad shoulders, and that long, slender tail.

    A clever Tide, indeed. For how I do so adore blue…

    “Good morning,” he said.

    “Favored,” the Trenchguards said as one. Then, the older of the two, laden with hundreds of tentacles in all varying shades of red, continued, stammering, “I–it is a tremendous honor that we may be at your service, Favored. Please, whatever you need, your will is our purpose.”

    She had raised her head to speak. Rader met her eyes and she averted her gaze once more. Silent and waiting.

    He let them wait, turning his attention instead to the trench itself.

    Like a black vein without end, it stretched in both directions, so wide he could barely glimpse the opposite side. Yet it was the red that most held his attention. Those long, spindly tendrils rooted to the trench’s walls and spilling past its craggy lips like the exposed, bloody innards of a festering beast. He knew it was only a rare algae that fed on the sounds that would otherwise grow deafening at greater depths. Still, he couldn’t shake his discomfiting awe.

    I’ve never known life to look so much like a dying thing.

    He returned his attention to the cowering Skaltressians, his gaze settling once more on the blue boy.

    “You,” Rader said, and the young Trenchguard lifted his head. “Escort me to the palace.”

    Wide eyes and a twitch of the mouth. “M–me?”

    Rader flared the white glow of his eyes. Less menacing, more agitated. 

    And all for show.

    Yet the blue boy must have seen only menace. He shot a terrified glance at his partner.

    She elbowed him in the ribs. “Never keep a Favored waiting.”

    “Isn’t that nice,” Rader said, a calculated edge of annoyance to his tone. “At least one of you was taught proper protocol.”

    To be Emperion was to be unquestionable command. And Rader couldn’t change what he was. Or what was expected of him.

    “I, uh — ”

    “The palace,” Rader repeated. “Now.”

    “Of course.” The blue boy spun, his tentacles splaying like a whirlpool as he did. He started north, along the trench’s eastern cliff, a flurry of bubbles left in his wake.

    Amused, Rader watched him for a moment — admiring the view.

    Then he kicked his tail and left, sparing not even a parting glance for the red Trenchguard.

    He caught up to the blue boy with effortless ease, pressed in close, and followed.

    The journey was quick. They swam along the trench until it split into two diverging branches. It was there, carved into the underside of the sharp-pointed plateau, where Rader spotted the Skaltressian Palace. From their distance, it appeared like a spiraled-bruise, nestled amidst the viscera-red algae growing along the wall, and encased within walls of pure diamond. Rays from the rising red and gold suns speared through the water, casting rainbow glints from the diamond’s polished edges.

    Impenetrable diamond at the front; solid rock at the back. An excellent defensive position.

    Despite swimming so near the suns-warmed surface, a subtle chill had begun to envelop Rader, as if the trench itself was siphoning off his warmth. He dug through his travel satchel and pulled out the cloak he had purchased in Parel—the Emperion capitol—before departing on this technically “unauthorized” clan visit. Not that anyone would dare question an Emperion.

    The cloak emitted a soft glow and a pleasing warmth as he slid into it. Which made sense.

    It was woven from Skaltressian tentacles, all plucked and shredded—made thread thin. Lifelight flowed through every strand. Warmth and time, taken from thralls, and repurposed as comfort and luxury for whoever could pay the price. Whoever was willing to.

    He considered this for a moment, the reality he had never really considered. Had never needed to.   

    Movement drew his attention, then, as they neared the palace; he was happy to let it.

    The trench rippled with life, here. Skaltressian Reeflords and Reefesses rustled about, all decorated in their cascading profusions of colorful tentacles, their bodies aglitter with Clawfer-forged jewels: necklaces and earrings of pearls, armlets of gold or silver.

    Their attendants trailed in tow, at a distance. Most were pallid and lifeless in the eyes, as phantoms are. In place of the pearls, the gold and silver of their masters, they wore strings of shells around their necks, kelp-twine bracelets around their wrists.

    A starker difference than most of the other clans Rader’s assignments have taken him to. 

    He was not here, though, to comment or pass judgment, but to satisfy his own curiosity. Back in Parel, he had found a scroll slipped into his sleeping-anemone—a bold breach of his private chambers. Or a foolish one. He might have been furious, had he not been so impressed.

    Rader chuckled to himself, recalling scroll’s message:

    Forgive me, Favored, my disturbing you,
    but a most disastrous current descends upon our home.
    I beseech you to come to the Aghata Trench,
    for we are in dire need of that which only you can offer.
    More, I dare not say — Eyes are watching…
    We are unworthy, yes, as we are in need.
    Please, Favored.
    Come.

    ‘Come,’ written on its own line — practically a command… Amusement tugged at the corner of his lips. Typical, gutsy Tides.

    Indeed, he had his suspicions of who had sent the scroll, but experience had taught him well that surprises were the way of life. Best to stay his assumptions, keep his eyes and ears sharp. Besides, it wasn’t so much the who that had piqued his intrigue, but the why.

    He set his eyes on the Skaltressian Palace, looming as he approached. Murmurs and gasps surrounded him, his mere presence a spectacle. Rarer than rare were Emperions beyond the immense, white marble walls of their capitol. Rarer still was the Emperion who travelled without a vast retinue stringing along after them. Like fish shit.

    Rader arrived before an archway carved from the diamond encasing the palace. A yellow Trenchguard raised her hand, signaling him to halt.

    “Welcome, Favored,” she said, “to the Skaltressian Palace. We… were not expecting you.” She bowed, and the other dozen or so Trenchguards followed suit.

    “I can see that.”

    A subtle disturbance in the water behind him. Rader glanced over his shoulder and spotted the blue boy, his hands and tail trembling. When the boy realized Rader was watching him, he hastily crossed his arms over his shell-armored chest and forced his tail steady and straight.

    Poor kid is wound up tighter than a Buroden Scenter’s braid.

    Rader offered what he hoped was a placating smile, though it seemed to have little effect.

    “How impressive,” came a weathered voice—one Rader recognized even before turning back to face the speaker. “To approach my family’s home without drawing the attention of our Eyes.”

    “Indeed, Tideress Fahvia,” he said. “I am.”

    A creation long past her expiration, cloaked in a flowing shawl of emerald tentacles, hers was the presence of a dying tempest. Proud and dignified—despite the crack and pop of her every stiff movement. Yet those inky-white eyes still held that same blazing wit and warmth Rader recalled from all their few interactions over the years.

    She bowed, or tried to. He didn’t mind, and offered a respectful nod of his own. A being such as her —lifelight dimming — was due a tender amendment in expected propriety.

    Something, though, was not quite right.

    “Someone’s missing,” he said, glancing past her.

    The Tideress nodded.

    “My apologies, Favored. My brother—”

    “Is not who I was referring to.”

    The Tideress looked long into Rader’s eyes.

    “Cora will join us when it is time.”

    What are you playing at, Tideress? That Twanderian has practically become your eyes.

    “I see,” he said. “It’s just… I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you without your shadow. Not in recent years, at least.”

    “Assistant,” the Tideress politely corrected.

    Rader shrugged.

    “Come,” she said, turning towards the palace. Then, as if catching herself, “If it pleases you, Favored. I would have the honor of showing you to your chambers.”

    Rader arched his brow. “I never said I was intending to stay.”

    The Tideress had already kicked off towards the palace. “You did not.” 

    He laughed. 

    Well, with the who out of the way, I supposed only her why remains. You’re growing lax, Tideress, in your dimming years…

    Rader started after her, then stopped right as he entered the palace waters.

    “You will join me,” he said over his shoulder to the blue boy. His tone ensured no argument from the Trenchguards, nor refusal from the boy. “This should be quite the education for you.”

    He winked.

    The bulge in the boy’s throat bobbed, yet he followed.

    Rader knew the boy’s kind: a low-ranking Shocker—young, yes, though likely already trained to kill. And undoubtedly rarely ever permitted such access to the palace without a summons. He would learn much, indeed.

    Especially once the theatrics are through…

    Thank you so much for reading the first three chapters!

    If you like what you’ve experienced so far, check out the full book on Amazon here.