SL Huang - Up and Coming - Stories by the 2016 Campbell-Eligible Authors

A grouping like this was unusual, so dense it could hold a body half in, half out of the water. They were like her, born to live in the sea but drawn to the world above. As she lay there, the sun soaked the moisture from her pale, osmotic flesh, tightening her skin and heating her to degrees she only experienced among the star lilies while the water cooled her from below, keeping her from dehydration or sunstroke.

Adaltan’s head popped up through a small opening between the lilies. Water dripped down his bare skull, following the sharp lines of his cheeks. “What in the great wide sea are you doing up here?” He leaned forward and placed his elbows atop the lilies and widened his already large black eyes. “Trying to fry up to get out of the wedding?”

“Never.” Nilafay leaned toward his smile and stole a kiss.

Adaltan frowned and drifted away. He looked out of place above the surface. His elegant Sualwet features seemed somehow too refined for the wildness of the open sky, for a waterborne species made more sense in the darkness of the ocean. Sualwets had none of the bulk or hair of land-dwelling Erdlanders, and yet Nilafay was drawn to the surface again and again.

Nilafay leaned back, letting the back of her smooth head relax in the natural hold of the lilies. She stared up at the birds swimming through the air overhead. “It’s so peaceful up here. The quiet is what always astounds me. No pretending I can’t hear what people are saying two leagues over, no constant hum of movement. The only other place like this is the Domed City, but the streets are so crowded it hardly helps.”

“I think its eerie here. Let’s go back.”

“Oh come on. You’ve never even climbed on top.”

Adaltan narrowed his eyes at her before lifting himself out of the water and onto the lilies. It took a moment for them to redistribute and accommodate his weight. Though he swam with graceful ease, his long limbs and lithe body moved awkwardly above the lilies. “It’s so weird to feel them move under you.”

“They’ll stop as soon as you lie still.”

“You do realize you’re using a living creature as a cot.”

“If it were a problem, they’d have developed stingers to keep us off.”

“What about the Erdlanders? Don’t you worry about them seeing you?”

“We’re too far from the shore. And even if they did see me, I could dive back underwater and swim home before they could even do anything. They’re so painfully slow. It’s hard to believe we haven’t won the war yet.”

“You don’t know much about war.” Adaltan tightened his jaw and closed his eyes. When he looked back at her, his luminous black irises sparkled with moisture.

“I miss Alkatan, too.” She placed a hand on his arm.

This time he didn’t pull away. The memory of his brother, fallen in battle with the land-crawling Erdlanders, must have weakened his defenses. As much as Nilafay didn’t want to overstep, she was glad for the contact.

“If he were here, you’d be marrying him instead of me.” Adaltan’s voice carried an unexpected sadness.

“Only if they made me. If Father asked, I’d have chosen you.”

“Sometimes I’m glad he’s gone, just so I could have you.”

She squeezed his arm. “You’re glad to be marrying me; you aren’t glad your brother died. They are different things.”

“Are they?”

“If Father had told me to marry Alkatan, I would have come straight to tell you and we would have run away together. We could swim out beyond the coral reef and follow the narwhals to faraway continents not yet swallowed by the sea.”

“We could raid Erdlander ships for supplies and build a home out of a giant squid’s cave.” His smile spread as they contemplated adventure.

“You’d battle him for the territory, earning me as your bride.”

He reached for her, and it was as if the star lilies floated closer, bringing their bodies within reach. “I love you, Nilafay.”

“And I you.”

He placed a tentative hand on her hip and pulled her closer. His fingers against the tight material of her bodysuit cooled the sun-heated flesh beneath. “When we marry, you’ll be Nilatan.”

His breath fanned over her lips, and she inhaled the taste of him. Salty and dark.

“But you shall call me Nila,” she whispered.

He sucked in a breath and his full black eyes dipped to her lips.

“And I shall call you Adal.”

As his name fell from her tongue, he reached forward, pulling her tight against the length of his body, and pressed his lips against hers.

The intimate names and forbidden kiss sent shockwaves through Nilafay’s nerves. The movement of the living creatures below them seemed to dance with their unspent passion. They kissed, and Adaltan wrapped his long, lithe arms around her, bringing her flush against his chest. She’d never been kissed before, never been held so close and precious.

He pulled away, and Nilafay whined, wrapping a hand around the back of his smooth skull. “Not yet.”

“We have to go, sweet Nila.”

“I just want to stay here.” She rolled away from him onto her back and stared up at the sky. “The clouds move together like schools of fish. They dance in and out of patterns that make my mind dream of distant shores.”

Adaltan laughed. “My mother warned me you were a poet.” He took her hand and rolled into the water, dragging her beneath the surface.

Nilafay squealed as the long-reaching tentacles of the star lilies swept across her face, wrapping their silken fingers around her ears.

Underwater, Adaltan was even more beautiful, his dark eyes unusual even for a Sualwet, his long, lean body fluid as he moved through the water. He drifted away from her backwards, barely appearing to move as he flowed with the slight current.

“Time to get back to reality,” he said. “You have a party to prepare for.” His voice sang across the distance between them, carried to her ears on a channel of warm water. He winked, his pale skin appearing to shimmer in the sunlight before he darted away, back toward the Domed City.

Despite her delight over their impending marriage, she dreaded the evening’s engagement party. Her mother had arranged for other despotic families from outside the Domed City to attend. Even her distant cousin, Rustifay, who currently held the highest position in the Sualwet Parliament below the prime minister, would be there.

Her idea of a celebration differed greatly from her mother’s.

Nilafay would rather dance on the seafloor and swim with the narwhals. She’d rather go on an expedition journey for her honeymoon than be sequestered until her next egg-laying to see if any would hatch. As much as she fantasized about her time alone with Adaltan, the idea that she’d be locked away from the world until she produced a viable hatchling felt old fashioned and unfair.

The low numbers of children among the Sualwet had led the despotic class to cling even harder to the old ways. But instead of what used to be only a few weeks of confinement that should produce multiple children, she had friends who had been sequestered for months with no results. A worm of worry wriggled in her belly. What if her eggs never hatched? Would Adaltan leave her to find another wife?

The water cooled as she sank farther from the surface. Her thoughts and body weighted down with fear. Soon she had dropped to the depth of her home. She lifted the thin membrane that protected her sensitive eyes from the dryness of the surface world. The darkness of the deep came into sharp, spectacular focus. The music of the creatures that dwelled there alongside the Sualwet washed over her and called her home.

She swam along the outer homesteads, weaving through the tall seaweed. A sea slug jumped from its perch and wriggled after her for a moment before dropping back into the stalks. Eels in the distance had gathered near the entrance of the Domed City. Their bright electric sparks beckoning those who sought her home. They swam along the seeded path through the outer dwellings, a living aisle of light and welcoming.