Heretical Fishing

Book 3: Chapter 12: Memories

After Roger and I set the barbecue down, I took a step back, smiling at the sight.

We’d carried it all the way back to my home, and now that it sat on my back deck, an immutable sense of joy washed over me.

I finally had a barbecue. I would have been content with just a thick slab of cast iron that I could place over a fire, but the System had given me so, so much more. I heard voices coming from the river, and I spun, seeing a procession of humans and creatures carrying firewood.

“I still do not see why you had to hit me so hard, Cinnamon,” Ellis said, using one hand to rub his backside. “That would have killed a regular human.”

“Well, good thing you’re a cultivator then, huh?” Barry replied, shooting me a quick smirk. “It was your own fault for ignoring Corporal Claws’s orders, anyway.”

Claws nodded fervently from atop Borks’s back, chirping and giving Cinnamon a thumbs up, who was cradled in Maria’s arms at the rear of the group.

Ellis sighed. “I will not apologize for getting excited about an advancement. Every second the data is not recorded is a chance for the memory to fade.”

While Barry reminded Ellis for the umpteenth time that we have almost perfect recall as cultivators, I turned to Roger. He was staring down at the barbecue, a slight smile on his face as his eyes roamed over its black frame.

“Roger,” I said.

“Thank you, mate.”

Clearly not expecting my gratitude, he paused a moment before sniffing. “You’re welcome.”

We both stared at the barbecue as everyone placed firewood down beside it, providing us with the necessary fuel to cook something amazing.

“You know, Roger, you don’t need to eat any seafood if you don’t want to.” I kept my face as still as possible. “I’d be happy to test out our little creation without you if you’d rather go report your breakthrough to Ellis somewhere else.”

I thought I might break if I locked eyes with the disgruntled farmer, so I glanced at Maria instead. Though she was trying to give me a disapproving glare, her eyes danced with humor.

“That would be ideal,” Ellis replied. “The fewer distractions, the better. We—”

“All right,” Roger boomed, whirling on me. “Cut the shit, Fischer. You want me to admit it out loud?”

A silence stretched over everyone, and I couldn’t hide my wry smile any longer. “Pretty much, yeah.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Have it your way. We both know I like the gods-damned seafood, okay? I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction, but your constant comments are even more annoying.”

“Thank you, mate. That admission was everything I needed and more.” I spun toward the others. “I’ll get the barbie started. Do we have any volunteers to catch us some fish?”

“On it!” Maria yelled, grabbing a rod and sprinting off with Cinnamon still in arm. Borks trailed after her, Claws giving me a sharp-toothed grin from his back as they all disappeared from sight.

Ellis began peppering Roger with questions about the breakthrough he’d experienced. I retrieved my hatchet from nearby and started splitting a log, hacking off different sized bits of kindling that I placed in the barbecue’s tray. When I’d made a nice little teepee shape, I released a content sigh, staring at my work.

“So,” Barry said, kneeling down beside me. “How did your conversation go? I tagged along to have that chat you promised me, but if Roger already convinced you...”

“Oh, we just spoke about the usual.” I waved a hand. “Roger told me I was a bit of a nerd for not taking responsibility.”

Roger snorted, having overheard us. “And Fischer was all, I’m a moron and would rather waste time relaxing instead of taking responsibility for my actions.”

“Oh,” Barry said, deflating. “There’s no point in me trying to convince you to take control of the church, then?”

“Nope! Still more than happy to step in if anyone is put in danger, though.”

I pressed down on the metal button on the front of the barbecue. Just as I’d suspected, it caused sparks to fly out. They caught on the wood shavings I’d placed in the bottom of the tray, and within the space of a few breaths, the flames spread to the smaller bits of kindling. The sounds of crackling wood and Ellis’s scrawling pencil blanketed me in a sense of ease.

Barry chewed his cheek beside me, his eyes distant as they stared into the building fire. “I’d hoped that you being willing to go confront Tom Osnan Jr. meant you’d enjoyed taking part in Operation Sticky Fingers...”

“Don’t get me wrong, mate. I did enjoy it—especially being able to release so much chi. That damned stuff wants to be used. It was like finally scratching an itch that had been bothering me for way too long.”

“So why don’t you want to take a more active role? It would give you much more of a chance to use it. Plus, we don’t know when the next threat will pop up. We could really use you as the visible head of the church, especially as a show of strength for the cultivators you rescued.”

“I already tried, Barry,” Roger replied for me, turning from Ellis. “He doesn’t care. Save your breath.”

“Can you really blame me?” I held my hands out, bathing in the warmth radiating from the fire. “My life in Tropica is kind of amazing as is.”

“Okay. I won’t harp on about it, but I hope you reconsider.” Barry stood and stretched. “I meant what I said about threats. You never know...”

“If there’s a threat, just let me know.” I gave him a reassuring smile. “Point me at it, and I’ll be there.”

“Fischer!” came Maria’s voice from far away. A moment later, she skidded around the corner with a giant shore fish in hand. “We caught lunch!”

“Good job!” I held my hand over the barbecue, feeling the heat coming from it. “Barbie’s almost ready to go!” I stood up, clapping Barry on the shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, mate. Really—I do. I doubt we’ll be encountering a threat any time soon, though…”

***

Within the capital city of Gormona, a broken man sat atop a meaningless throne.

Sunlight shone in from above, painting his throne room in the beautiful colors of myriad stained-glass windows. Usually, the opulence of his surroundings made August Reginald Gormona feel on top of the world. Made him feel like the king he was.

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Today, all they did was illuminate his failure.

Their defeat—his defeat—had been spectacular in its thoroughness. All but a handful of their cultivators had been taken. Their grove, the very source of Gormona’s entrenched power, had been destroyed. Their artifacts, which were the treasure of uncountable kingdoms, had been stolen. Despite his and Tom Osnan’s lifetime of cultivation, they’d not stood a chance. Tom’s shame was much more, though. The foolish lord had tried to claim the man he’d met was the true leader of the enemy forces.

Augustus Reginald Gormona knew the truth, though.

It was Lizard Wizard. It had always been Lizard Wizard. Ever since the king had been shot from his own castle like a pebble thrown by a child, he’d not been able to stop replaying the encounter. Even upon waking within a crater atop a mountain, his first thought had been of the spirit beasts as they watched his departure. As he trudged back to the capital, naked as the day he was born, he recalled the strike he’d landed on Lizard Wizard’s side.

The blow should have cracked ribs and torn ligaments. It should have ended the reptile’s life there and then. Instead, the energy had been reflected somehow, striking Augustus hard enough to turn him into a cannonball. The reality of the spirit beasts’ abilities defied even the secret records he had. He’d removed Boat Goat’s head, yet the fiend had continued attacking, completely unfazed. The king’s scorching flames had washed over both Boat Goat and Hurtle the Turtle, but instead of burning to dust like they should have, they transformed into crabs, their carapaces somehow impervious to his deadly attack.

The door to his throne room swung open and two sets of steps entered.

“Is it true, dad?” someone asked, the voice only barely registering.

When Augustus glanced up, he found his wife, Penelope, and his daughter, Tryphena. The former downtrodden, the latter ready to explode.

“Is it true?” Tryphena demanded again, her eyes fierce. “You were defeated?”

“Yes,” he replied, his voice weak. “It’s true.”

She swore, slamming her fist into an open palm. Flames spewed out from her strike, dashing against the stones of the castle before sputtering out. “I wasn’t here.” She dropped to a knee. “Forgive me, father. I had no way of getting back in time.”

“Rise, daughter. It is not your fault. The blame rests atop my head.”

“Forgive my impudence, but I don’t believe that.” She raised her head, somehow appearing defiant from her lowered position. “In fact, I know that’s wrong.”

Before Augustus could ask what she meant, his wife spoke up.

“I took Tryphena to see Aisa and the rest of the handlers before coming here.”

“You what?” he yelled, getting to his feet and unleashing waves of chi from his core that demanded to be unleashed. “They are to be ignored until their execution!”

“Father, please. Let me explain.”

Tryphena strode forward, and just before she entered the range of his flames, Augustus slammed his channels closed.

He slumped down into his chair, his fury smothered by the weight of reality. “I have failed my kingdom. Even my daughter goes against my orders.”

“With good reason,” she replied, kneeling before the throne. “We took an auditor with us to speak with Aisa.”

“To what end?” He shook his head, Gormona’s crown feeling as heavy as a mountain. “What could that accomplish?”

Tryphena shared a look with her mother before turning back toward him. “Did you talk to Aisa at all...?”

“Enough to understand that all the handlers were defeated by Fat Rat Pack and The Beetle Boys.”

“Well... we asked her pointed questions. What we learned was terrifying.”

Someone cleared their throat, and when Augustus glanced up, his chi threatened to release itself once more. “What is she doing here?”

Aisa marched into the throne room, averting her eyes. When she got halfway to him, she kowtowed.

“I brought her to explain the situation firsthand,” Tryphena said. “We’ve already had all the information verified by an auditor.”

“You go too far, daughter.” Augustus’s lip twitched, his patience growing thin. “For you to talk to her is one thing, but to allow her into my presence after such a grievous failure...”

“It wasn’t your fault!” Aisa yelled, still pressing her head to the floor.

Augustus exploded forward, flames burning through the back of his robe. He bent, grabbing her by the hair and lifting her face. “What did you say, girl?”

Aisa clenched her jaw, her eyes staring into his. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He cocked his fist back, gathering chi there that burned white hot. With each bit he let out, his core demanded he release more. He should eliminate this wretch. Punch her with every ounce of power he possessed, ending her existence on the spot.

Tryphena lay a hand on his shoulder. “Just let her explain, father. If you still want to strike her down afterward, you can.”

“Fine,” he replied, dismissing his power with no small amount of effort as he stared down into Aisa’s defiant gaze once more. “You have ten seconds.”

She swallowed. “The enemy was stronger than we ever could have imagined. There was nothing we could have done—nothing anyone could have done. Fat Rat Pack and The Beetle Boys... they had leaders...” She trailed off, her eyes going distant. When they abruptly shot back toward Augustus, they were resolute. “Either of those leaders could have taken on the entire capital’s forces at once.”

The king snorted. “Impossible. You’re mistaken.”

“Yet each of the handlers said the same thing,” Tryphena said. “And the auditor confirmed their statements.”

“You really suspect that a single beast—one that can’t have been ascended for longer than a few weeks—could have taken on the rest of Gormona’s forces? Could have taken on me?” He let out a bitter chuckle. “You’re even more useless than I suspected.”

“They’re correct, Augustus,” came yet another voice from the entrance to his throne room.

“Really, Tom?” the king asked, making his displeasure clear in his voice as he gave his oldest friend, Tom Osnan, a flat glare. “I’m surprised you’d show your face here after your failure at the grove.”

Tom was a proud man. His indignation raged on his face unhidden. “If I recall correctly, you failed too, Augustus.”

The king stood, gathering flames around both fists, preparing to attack the man who knew him best. His core vibrated, demanding that he answer the insult with violence.

“That’s enough, Augustus!” his wife yelled.

It was enough to bring the king up short, and he turned toward her, arching an eyebrow.

“How many people need to tell you until you believe them? Tom wasn’t lying!” As with the rest of them, she stared at him with unwavering resolve. “Fischer, the one who was at the grove, was the man that learned the Chi Manipulation skill not long ago. We both know how many years it took me to learn. He’s no simple cultivator.”

“His power, Augustus...” Tom said. “It was like nothing we’ve ever seen. Even compared to the old monsters, his chi was endless.”

“Yes, yes. It was both unaspected, yet supremely powerful. You’ve already said so, and I’ve already told you that’s impossible.”

“The auditor vouched for his words too, father,” Tryphena said.

“That’s...” Augustus licked his lips, a thorn of uncertainty pricking his awareness. “He did?”

“Yes!” His wife replied. “That’s what we’ve been telling you!”

He took them all in, seeing conviction etched on each of their faces. They were all so sure, but it wasn’t possible. None of it made any sense...

But then he recalled his fight with Lizard Wizard once more.

Even that defied belief. Unlike the information everyone else provided, he’d seen it with his own eyes. Felt it with his own body. Boat Goat, sans head, slamming him with his own tables. Lizard Wizard’s immunity to attacks despite not using elemental chi. Bog Dog’s portals, used too often for such a powerful ability. Hurtle the Turtle and the headless goat, who had both transformed into fireproof crabs when he unleashed an inferno. Glare Bear’s unnerving eye contact and the way the creature moved—what kind of self-respecting bear would slither around on the ground like a centipede?

If it were all true, though...

“Ares’s girthy spear...” Augustus stumbled, his flame chi retreating back into his abdomen. “If you’re correct...”

“We are,” Tryphena said, helping hold him upright. “But we have an answer.”

“An answer...?” Laughter bubbled up from within. “What, to swear fealty? What answer could there possibly be?”

Tryphena looked at her mother, who nodded back reassuringly.

“We’ve thought this over, father. Weighed the cost, risk, and benefit. There is only one way out of this…”

His daughter looked into his eyes for a long moment, the air growing thick with tension.

Eventually, she spoke a single word.

“Theogonia.”