By Luca Nobleman
“Come one, come all.” Erizan waved to the bustling crowds passing before his small circus tent. “Dr. Erizan Aziz’s world of mystery awaits those who dare tread the waters of the lost deep!”
He’d tailored this pitch for the ocean people of Leaslin. They were born in water, lived on water, died in water, and responded only to the language of the sea. As ancient as the temples of Fora, their flotilla stretched farther than any land-bound metropolis.
Until his boat arrived, just one day earlier, Erizan hadn’t believed the stories of the floating city. Then his boots stepped onto its wooden sea-charmed planks.
When he’d asked the harbormaster what kept this place afloat, the man had smiled. “Leviathan bubbles from the great deep.”
Dragon burps? I doubt it.
Another coin clinked, joining the others in his hat, and a woman ducked into the glowing tent.
Erizan watched the twin suns set on the horizon, leaving Ignis, the gas giant, alone in the sky—its massive orange-and-red stripes reflecting across the ocean.
How silly these Leaslinites could be. Many believed Ignis orbited their world, Nero. But anyone who understood planetary physics would know Nero was just another of the many moons of Ignis.
Honestly, the Leaslinites’ backward ways made them easier to fool.
The benches were packed, and Erizan slipped behind the curtain to begin. Whispers of excitement filled the air. He loved gullible crowds.
He tapped on a small water tank. The pink coral within shifted, and a white-and-red-striped tentacle pressed against the glass.
“It’s showtime.” He grinned.
Erizan turned to check the shellbacks, but stopped as the tentacle pounded. He sighed. Ink, the balloon-shaped heptapod within, hadn’t forgotten.
“Fine, here it is.” He pulled a blue crystal from his pocket and pressed it to the glass.
Ink burst from her nook, circling the stone. The crystal glowed brighter with her movement.
“All right,” he muttered. “You gonna work now?”
Her seven tentacles slowed. She blinked, then nodded her bulbous head… body… whatever it was.
“Good.” He pocketed the crystal and stepped out.
The show went perfectly. The audience gasped at dancing shellbacks, then roared as the trained mini-leviathan wove through fiery rings. While Erizan dazzled them with disappearing and levitation acts, Ink slithered beneath the benches, rifling through pockets and bags.
She was efficient. Every few shows, she’d secure something valuable enough to fund another month of comfort. In return, Erizan would leave the crystal with her for the night. He never liked leaving it long—it was all he had left of his mother—but the arrangement worked.
As the crowd dispersed, singing his praises, Erizan found Ink on the back floor, sorting their spoils into neat piles: electronics, jewelry, and even a hologram generator.
“Well done.” He grinned.
He could read the skepticism in her eyes.
“Hey, we gotta make a living somehow.” What does she know? She’s just a—
“Be a good one.” His mother’s words echoed through his psyche.
He grimaced, then sighed. His mother wasn’t here now.
Crouching, he stroked her beak. “Skin’s getting dull, Inky. You should get back in the tank.”
She chirped, then lifted a tentacle expectantly.
“All right.” He handed her the crystal.
She paused, eyes half-lidded with contentment, then climbed into her tank.
***
Erizan relaxed with a glass of wine. His thoughts wandered to home. What would it be like to return to Orlin wealthy? A mansion carved into the mountainside. Silk. Servants.
Just as he took another sip, a scream cut the air, followed by a splash. He jumped, wine sloshing down his blue and gold suede jacket.
“Colossus’ rot,” he cursed.
Leaning over the railing, he glimpsed frothy seawater. “Evening swimmer.” He shook his head. “These people.”
“Help! I can’t swim!” A female voice echoed from below.
A Leaslinite who can’t swim?
He peered down. A young woman with very light skin flailed in the water. She wasn’t Leaslin. She was either from Ruo or Rak, and she was sinking.
Erizan glanced around—no one else.
“Help!” she cried, reaching toward him.
His heart pounded. No one would know if he walked away. Why take the risk? The ocean wasn’t safe.
But something stirred inside him.
Be a good one.
“I am good,” he muttered. “I’m a respectable artist.”
Or was he?
The splashing stopped. The woman’s head disappeared beneath the surface.
Be a good one.
He sighed. “Fine.” Tossing aside his glass, he cursed and dove in.
The warm water was calmer beneath the surface. Erizan could see the underside of the flotilla now—an immense forest of submerged growth supporting it.
Oil palms. Genius.
He searched beneath.
There—twenty feet down. The woman sank, her blue dress fading into darkness.
His lungs tightened as he dove deeper. Shadows moved in the depths. Leviathans?
He kicked harder, reaching her, grabbing her waist. Then he understood.
Neither of them would make it back.
His lungs burned. His vision blurred.
Be a good one.
But I’m going to die!
The woman’s eyes flickered. She was still alive. He kicked and pulled, but they weren’t moving fast enough.
Blackness consumed his vision.
This is it—stupid heroics.
Suddenly, something struck his back.
What the—
Then… tentacles. White and red striped.
Ink!
Without warning, the creature shoved his mother’s glowing blue crystal down his throat. He swallowed reflexively. Then Ink squeezed him tighter, piercing into his lung with her beak.
The pain was like a thousand stings from a sea ray.
He reached to rip her off, but a calm voice entered his mind. Take a breath.
Ink?
Just breathe.
With hesitation, he inhaled.
Water poured in, but instead of drowning, his mind cleared.
How?
We are one now. Her squeaky voice echoed telepathically.
Erizan smiled. You saved me.
Yep. Now save her.
He kicked, then surged upward with impossible strength, the woman in his arms.
For the first time in his life, he wasn’t taking. He was giving.
He… was a good one.
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I really liked that. Lots of action going on. Great read
Good for Erizan! I love the detail of the city and its people, as well as their personalities. Great job!