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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.
Such a clever Tideress, feigning ignorance of my coming.
He loomed over the Trenchguards, the steady swish of his long, 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 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, not-so-furtive glance across Rader’s body, then back down into the trench’s vanishing blackness. He was quick, yes. Both daring and demure in equal measure. But Rader was quicker, glimpsing precisely what he had most longed for throughout his long journey: a comely face, blushing.
The Emperion grinned, his gaze flitting over the boy once more, drinking in all his most alluring features: toned arms, broad shoulders, and that slender, sun-sparkling tail.
A clever Tideress, indeed.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Favored,” the Trenchguards said as one. Then, the older of the two, laden with seemingly 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 might 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 again 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 trailing 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 a sharp-pointed plateau, that Rader spotted the Skaltressian Palace. From a distance, it looked like a spiraled amethyst shell protruding from the rock and viscera-red algae, encased within walls of pure diamond. Rays from the rising red and gold suns speared through the water, casting rainbow glints from the walls’ 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 enveloped 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 golden 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. Or whoever was willing to.
He pondered this for a moment, here in these Skaltressian waters, the reality he had never really considered before. Had never needed to.
Movement drew his attention as they neared the palace. He was happy to let it.
The trench rippled with life. Skaltressian Reeflords and Reefesses rustled about, all adorned in their cascading profusions of colorful tentacle-garments: cloaks, body-wraps, flowing gowns, each lightly weighted and glinting with diamonds, emeralds, or sapphires. Pearls circled their necks and dripped from their ears, while armlets of gold and silver gleamed in the sun.
Their attendants trailed in tow, at a distance. Most appeared pallid and lifeless in the eyes, as phantoms are. In place of cloaks and pearls, they wore woven tatters of kelp and seaweed, strings of shells. It was a starker difference than any of the other clans Rader’s assignments have taken him to. Yet he was not here to comment or pass judgement, only 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 the 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 Tideress.
Had anyone else attempted to orchestrate such a scheme, he likely would have reported it to his superiors or come intent to reprimand rather than listen. Though, in the end, it was her why that intrigued him. This “disastrous current” she mentioned.
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 traveled without the accompaniment of 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.
“W—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, 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. It wasn’t very effective.
“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 glorious, dying tempest. Proud and dignified, despite the crack and pop of her every stiff movement. Yet those inky-white eyes still held that same indelible 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 is practically 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, started after her, then stopped again as he entered the palace waters.
“You will join me,” he said over his shoulder to the blue boy. His tone brooked no argument from the Trenchguards, nor refusal from the boy. “I suspect this will be quite the education for you.”
He winked.
The bulge in the boy’s throat bobbed, but he followed.
Rader knew the boy’s kind: a low-ranking Shocker—young, yes, though undoubtedly already trained to kill. And most certainly never permitted 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.
Joshua Stavick 