Heretical Fishing

Book 2: Chapter 46: Admiring the Scenery

With the warm glow of magical fire lighting the smooth stones of the underground church, I weighed Barry with my eyes. The air between us seemed to thicken with tension, and before it could grow any more palpable, I sighed.

“I know this is me poking my head where I’ve specifically requested to be left out of, but I have to draw the line at slavery, mate.”

Barry rubbed his temples, looking better but still worse for wear.

“Forgive the bluntness, Fischer—I’m too hungover for anything else. It’s a temporary measure, and one that was—is—completely necessary. He’s not being abused, forced to do anything, or deprived of necessities.” Barry ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head. “By the gods, Fischer, have you seen his cell?” He emphasized how inaccurate the last word was with air quotes. “He sleeps in a bed the same as yours, eats better food than most villagers in Tropica, and we’ve been feeding him sugarcane juice like he’s parched ground desperate for rain!”

By the end of Barry’s rant, he was yelling, flinging his hands wide. All at once, he deflated, his shoulders slumping once more.

“Sorry. I’m under a lot of stress here.”

I glanced at Maria—she gave me a conflicted and strained smile that reflected my own feelings. I threw my head back and looked at the roof, imagining a creator high above.

“I really am inside a terribly written Xianxia. Whoever wrote this storyline sucks.”

“What...?” Barry asked.

“Slavery. I tried to ignore the collared cultivators, but now you’ve got a bloody royal collared up in a dungeon. What am I supposed to do? Pretend it’s not happening, or go about ending it to virtue signal to the reader that I’m a good bloke? It’s low hanging fruit, mate—may as well have me stop someone from kicking a cat.”

Barry only grew more confused. He leaned in close, narrowing his eyes.

“Who has been kicking cats?”

I sighed.

“No one has—I’m just complaining out loud.” I looked back at the open doorway behind us, from which the collared prince was berating everyone and anything in an attempt to get some brekkie. “So, what’s the plan with him? You said it’s only temporary—what does that mean?”

“You’re sure you want to know...?” Barry asked.

“No, mate—not even a little, but I do want reassurance that my existence doesn’t mean that people get enslaved.”

“Do you trust me, Fischer?”

I slumped backward, leaning against the wall.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, this is just...” I gestured back at the cell. “It’s a lot.”

Barry nodded.

“It is, and I’m sorry you had to find out. What are you even doing down here, anyway?” He grimaced as we locked eyes. “I told you there were things in here that you wouldn’t want to see...”

“We were worried for your safety,” Maria said, gesturing at the lemonade. “We brought this, and thought if we just kept our eyes forward we wouldn’t see anything we shouldn’t.”

“But that a certain something yelled at us for breakfast,” I said, smiling despite everything. “He is a bit of a prick, isn’t he?”

Laughter bubbled up from Barry. It flew free, and he joined me at the wall, leaning beside me.

“You have no idea, Fischer. He was—is—a right prick. If you knew what he’d tried to do...” Barry shook his head. “I’ll spare you the details, but suffice to say, a little imprisonment might honestly be too good for him. It was the kindest option we had at hand, though I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a sense of satisfaction when I clapped that metal collar around his neck.”

“Wow—he must have been a prick,” Maria said, smirking at him. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you angry.”

“Agreed,” I said. “The anger of a gentle man is nothing to scoff at.”

A silence stretched between the three of us as our own thoughts consumed us. After a short while, I stood from the wall, stretching.

“All right—I’ve decided.” I turned to Barry. “You’re planning on making him awaken so he can’t go running back home and tell his royal family of our existence, right?”

“Correct—as usual. We’re also hoping we can win him over to our side, but even if he should try to escape...” He shrugged. “I really don’t think he has much chance of outrunning Claws—do you?”

As I Imagined the vicious glee she’d have etched on her face if she were given a target to pursue, I shook my head, grinning.

“No—I don’t think he’d have any luck escaping that little deviant.” I spun to face Barry. “I do trust you. As long as your goal is to free him eventually and you keep treating him well, I won’t interfere. If you’re not opposed, I might even give you a hand.”

“A hand...?”

“Yeah, mate.” I shot him a wink. “If your sugarcane juice hasn’t been working, maybe I can rustle something up that pushes him over the line.”

***

Ellis, head archivist of the royal library, was having a terrible day.

Someone was in his precious domain—a group of someones, judging by the chaos they brought with them. Already, liquids had been spilled on tables, food crumbs had been strewn across the carpets, and now, someone had taken his golden candelabra—complete with ten lit candles—into the stacks of ancient books.

With fury powering each step, Ellis ran after the firelight retreating further into the library. Each time he rounded a bookshelf, his antagonist would be just out of sight. They were always one corner away, and it infuriated him to no end. To think they were moving with such speed while holding an open flame...

His face contorted into a hate-filled snarl, and he lifted his knees, tried to catch his foe, but it was as if he ran through mud. His steps, no matter how much he tried to pick up the pace, moved at the same speed.

It only filled him with more fury.

He leaned forward, tried to break through the invisible barriers slowing him, and rushed headlong into his adversary.

“Ellis...” they said, taunting him.

They held him by his robe, and he tried to see their face, but the golden candelabra was held before them, obscuring their features with its candles’ orange glow. He tried to break free as the attacker shook him, threatening to spill the hot wax across his beloved books.

***

“Ellis... yoo-hoooo,” I said, grabbing him gently by the collar. I shook him slightly, raising an eyebrow at how toned his body had become. “Damn, Ellis—you’re feeling jacked, my ma—”

“Unhand my fiery shaft, fiend!” he bellowed into my face, spittle flying as he bolted upright. He breathed heavily, blinking at me as his eyes cleared.

I looked up, turning to Theo and the rest of the fishing club that I’d already woken. As one, we burst into laughter.

“What in Morpheus’s blessed realm were you dreaming of, Ellis?” Danny got out through fleeting giggles that sounded hilarious from the burly man.

Keith had collapsed, leaning against Theo for support

“Remind me to never touch Ellis in his sleep!” He flinched and raised a hand to his head. “Gods, my own voice is like a sledgehammer to my brain.”

Ellis blinked, squinted, then braced his forehead with both hands.

“Please... stop being so loud.”

Everyone laughed again, but they cut off in groans, each of their noggins pounding from last night’s drink.

“Here,” I said. “I brought you guys a remedy.”

Maria and I started handing out the hangover cure, and each person drank deep. We’d already visited the bed chambers across the hall, providing lemonade to the rest of the church members within.

“Wonderful,” Ellis said, whatever gods forsaken dream he’d been having already long forgotten. “Would you tell me the recipe?”

He removed his notepad and pencil, fighting through the pain, and I smiled at him.

“That’s easy, mate. It’s lemon and sugar.”

“Lemon...” he repeated, then his eyes went wide. “Lemon! It is Lemon? Where did you get so much?”

Theo squinted at him.

“A little quieter, Ellis, if you would.”

I smiled at them.

“When you’re feeling up to it, I have something to show you. You might need to see it to believe.”

***

“Remarkable...”

I was delighted at the unveiled awe held in Ellis’s eyes as we entered the clearing.

I wasn’t sure if it was the hangover of the sight—perhaps both—but even in the short time I’d known him, it was rare that something shocked Ellis enough for him to stop taking notes. As if the same thought occurred to him, he lowered his pencil and began scribbling. Everyone split up to explore the clearing, and Maria and I wandered over to the blue-barked tree in the center, sitting in the grass and leaning against its trunk.

Claws curled up in Maria’s lap, and I reached over to rub her fur. I lay my other palm back against the tree.

“You girls did so well.”

***

As the ancient spirit watched the humans and creatures perusing her domain, an unknown emotion seemed to bubble up from the earth beneath her. When the cultivator ‘Fischer’ set a hand to her trunk and praised her work, the trickle turned to a torrent. Though it was a new sensation, it wasn’t bad—quite the opposite.

She could feel the emotions of the cultivators crossing the forest floor above her network of roots—only hints, but more than enough to understand their intent. Their eyes were wide, reflecting the afternoon sun as it filtered down through her canopy. The tones they spoke in were soft yet rushed, like the winds that hissed through her leaves before a storm. Their movements reminded her of the small prey animals that dashed from cover to cover during the daylight hours. Their steps, however, weren’t hastened by fear—it was because of excitement, perhaps even awe.

As she focused on them further, she realized that they—each and every one of them—possessed chi. They were cultivators, yet they flitted around her clearing as if they were aspects of nature. The most powerful of all was a man that could, in all likelihood, tear her from the ground roots and all. He leaned against her trunk, holding the hand of a woman and lovingly patting an otter as if it was his own child. These sources of power, beings that her instincts told her should be fighting over the chi-laden fruits hanging from her lemon-tree branches, were simply admiring the scenery and each other’s company. It made something deep within her blossom, and the feeling of contentment unfurled and solidified.

A soft breeze blew across her canopies. It sent shivers of pleasure down her branches, through each trunk, and into her network of roots.

It didn’t stop there.

When the sensations of each tree met beneath the soil, they bounced into each other, combined, and flourished into something... new. It traveled for her core, slowly making its way further toward that nexus of power. Any other time, she may have assumed it was an attack, something negative to be shielded from. She might have even held it at bay, stopping whatever it was in its tracks. With contentment suffusing her being, however, she simply rested and let it come.

If the ancient being had all of her memories, she would have recognized the event for what it was. Instead, she was entirely caught off guard when every leaf, branch, splinter, and root shone with a blinding white light.