Heretical Fishing

Book 2: Chapter 55: Cannonball

As a bejeweled hand sailed toward my head—extremely slowly, might I add—I marveled at the rings adorning it. Four bands of precious metal and one of—was that iron?—adorned his fingers and thumb. Each of the gold and silver rings held a single pearl, the sun reflecting from their smooth faces. Set in the band of iron on his ring finger, three of the biggest pearls I’d ever seen stared at me as they crawled through space toward my noggin. If he was going to give me a good smacking, the least he could do was hurry it up.

I suppose I have to let him hit me, I thought, settling my weight atop Borks’s head so he didn’t accidentally pull the prick’s leg off or something.

The hand kept coming, its incandescent stones reflecting sunlight. In my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have anticipated the hand that saved me. A plump fist—though much less plump than I’d previously seen it—caught Lord Osnan’s, bringing the blow up short. I raised my eyebrows at George, and he raised his back, as shocked as I was that he’d intervened. His face returned to a mask of calm. He turned toward the man whose wrist he still held.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Osnan reefed his hand back and tugged at his vest, staring hatred at George as a wind kicked up and blew cold air from the ocean.

“I could ask you the same, Kraken,” he spat, emphasizing the last word. “Why did you stop me from dishing out punishment to a peasant?”

George cleared his throat.

“Fischer is a vital part of this community, and more important than you know.”

He stressed the latter part of his sentence, and I jerked my head back, completely disregarding the man who had just tried to assault me.

Before the Lord of Tropica Village could respond, Osnan spat.

“Important?” He made a scoffing noise. “He needs to learn his place.”

“Tom—” George started to say.

“That’s Tom Osnan Jr. to you, Kraken! Don’t think for a moment that being part of a disgraced house makes us equals!”

He stared at me from down his nose, and I could almost see the desire to strike me go through his mind. Then he looked down at Borks, who was growling low in his throat. The man’s leg twitched, no doubt wanting to kick my dog, prick as he was. For a moment, I wished he would try, but then I realized losing a leg was probably a bit too harsh a punishment. Instead of striking out, Osnan’s lip twitched in disgust. He turned and strode back toward Tropica. I pouted at his back, then looked around, shrugging at the villagers that were staring at me, wide-eyed.

“Thanks for that, mate,” I said to George. “Not sure what would have become of that whole situation had he struck me.”

“O-of course, Fischer. It was the least I could do.”

“Nonsense, mate.” I rested a hand on his shoulder; his muscles were taut. “You could have done nothing, but you stepped in for me. I appreciate it.”

“You’re, uh, welcome.” He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief, absorbing the sweat beading his brow.

I smiled at him—it can’t have been easy for someone with social anxiety to intervene.

“You did really well with the crowd there, by the way.” I patted his shoulder, then removed my hand. “You’ve been improving in leaps and bounds, and I’m super proud of you.”

He blinked at me, his face going white, the poor bloke.

“Th-thank you, Fischer.”

“No worries. I’ll see ya later, mate.” I turned and left before I could make him uncomfortable and undo all of his progress. “Keep up the good work!” I called over my shoulder, waving goodbye as I returned to Maria and Leroy. Er—Larry, I mean.

“What was all that about?” Maria asked, resting a palm atop my arm. “I only caught the end of it, but it seemed tense...”

I shrugged, leaning in so we wouldn’t be overheard.

“I meant to go over and try to get some information about the crops his family grows, but he was such a prick that I couldn’t help but dish some disrespect back his way. His response was to hit me.”

“Hit you?” Leroy asked, his face incredulous. “What did you do?”

“I did nothing, mate. George stopped him.”

“He what?” Maria shouted, then lowered her voice again, leaning in. “Sorry—I just didn’t expect you to say that.”

“Right? Our boy George was cool, calm, and collected.”

I looked over my shoulder, watching him disappear into the crowd as they made their way back to the village.

***

As George walked back through the streets of Tropica, worry assailed him. Rather than beat it back, he followed the teaching of his family’s manual, allowing the thoughts to come and go.

“Are you okay, dear?” Geraldine asked, resting a hand on his upper back.

He let out a slow breath. “You know, I think I am...”

“Are you ready to talk about it?”

He considered for a moment, then nodded.

Geraldine moved her hand in circles, rubbing his back and knowing he’d speak when he was ready. They reached their steps, and the sky seemed to darken as he began.

“Did you hear any of my interaction with Fischer?”

“No—I only saw it.” As they walked inside, she turned her brilliant eyes on him and shut the door, banishing the cool breeze that had begun blowing outside. “I’m proud of you for stopping Tom’s hand, George. You saved him from himself. Striking a crown auditor is a capital offense, whether you’re from a powerful family or not.”

He blew air from his nose in amusement.

“You know, Fischer said the same thing.”

“He admitted to being an auditor?” she almost yelled, her gaze growing intense.

“No, dear—not that.” George touched her cheek. It had lost much of its former plumpness with the changes they’d made to their diet, but she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “He said he was proud of me and the progress we’ve made.”

“... Truly?”

“Truly. He said to keep up the good work.”

“That’s wonderful, dear.” She slipped into his arms, pulling herself tight. George held her back, squeezing her just as hard. “Is that what has you feeling so relaxed?”

He considered the question, then shook his head.

“No. Even before we spoke, I felt... good about stepping in with Marcus. Maybe it’s just as the texts say: service is the path to enlightenment.”

She pulled back from his chest so she could look into his eyes. They sparkled brilliantly, and the adoration he saw in her gaze only made his own rise.

“I love you, Geraldine.”

She kissed him, pressing her soft lips to his before pulling away.

“I love you more, dear. Should we go meditate on the events of this morning? I know you’re feeling good, but it couldn’t hurt.”

He smiled. “I was going to suggest the same thing.”

Hand in hand, they made their way up the stairs, not needing to rely on the banisters for support.

***

As if it could sense the mood of the villagers, a storm front blew in from the sea.

Leroy—or Larry—had left us at the square, trailing after Barry and the rest of the church members that were at the meeting. I spoke to Marcus for a bit, and he even tried to give me back the silver for the extra metal, but I told him to just get it to us when he could.

Maria, Borks, and I took off, heading back toward my home. Before we got there, it was already sprinkling, and as we stood on my front porch, the thin rain became thick sheets of water.

“What a miserable day!” Maria yelled over the roar of falling rain.

I cocked my head as I looked out toward the river mouth, only barely able to see it through the wall of water.

“Do you still have a pair of swimmers here?”

“I do...” She raised a brow at me. “What are you thinking?”

“Have you ever gone running in the rain before?”

“Um, do you not recall our frantic sprint through the forest when we went camping?”

“That doesn’t count,” I laughed. “We had food, packs, and shelter to worry about, so it was hardly fun.”

“You know, you have weird ideas of fun, Fischer. You really think that’s a good idea?”

I grinned.

“One way to find out.”

***

I sprinted across the sands south of the river with loping strides, smiling at the look on Borks’s face as he dashed along beside me. His tongue lolled from the side of his mouth, only being retracted when he occasionally snapped at the rain. His long golden hair was completely soaked, and at the speed we were traveling, it lay slick against his lithe body. He made me think of a Greyhound in full stride, his back legs somehow looking like they’d overtake the front ones at any moment.

Borks skidded to a stop in the sand. Maria and I paused, both cocking our heads at him, but then he transformed. One second, he was a Golden Retriever. The next, he was a pitch-black Greyhound, the rain rolling down his short fur. Borks, now in the form of a rather awkward-looking dog, took off. Faster than any creature had a right to travel, his limbs chewed through the sand, his ears pinned back and legs a blur.

Maria’s laughter was an unstoppable force as she bent over, leaning on my shoulder for support. The rain continued bucketing down, washing away the tears of joy rolling down her cheeks.

“What... what was that?” she asked, still laughing.

“A Greyhound,” I yelled back, competing with the downpour.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” She gestured at Borks, who was now literally running rings around us. “That can’t be right.”

I smiled, watching Borks and the sand he was flinging in his wake.

“It is! They were originally bred as hunting dogs.”

“Why is he so... long?”

“Oh, they get way longer.”

I turned to Borks with a smirk, imagining a Borzoi. He skidded to a halt in the sand, staring at us as he shifted once more. This form was the same shape as a Greyhound, but taller and covered in long white fur.

“Now that,” I said, gesturing emphatically, “is a long boy.”

In a matter of seconds, Borks’s coat was soaked, and Maria folded like the buttery layers of a croissant. She let go of my shoulder, falling to her hands and knees in the sand. Borks ran forward and assaulted her with a storm of licks more incessant than the squall surrounding us. She slung an arm over his shoulders, leaning on him for support as he continued licking her chin.

“Why are your dogs from earth so...?”

“Amazing?” I suggested, grinning.

“Sure—let’s go with amazing,” she laughed, hugging Borks tight.

He locked eyes with me and, unable to help myself, I pictured another breed. Maria gasped as he shifted again. Borks’s body and legs shrunk, and in the blink of an eye, a brown Dachshund with gray speckles leaned his forepaws on Maria’s thigh. Borks let out a sharp bark, his tail wagging and ears alert.

“Oh. My. Gods! What is that?” she yelled, scooping him up into a tight hug. “You’re so cute, Borks!”

“A Dachshund, affectionately known as a sausage dog, for obvious reasons.”

“Are you a little sausage, Borks?” She nuzzled him with her nose, her rain-slick hair falling around him. “Who’s a good sausage?”

Seeing a chance for mischief, I gave Borks a malevolent grin. He shifted again.

“W-whoa!” Maria yelped as she crashed to the ground, a Great Dane atop her chest.

Borks licked her chin, his gigantic tongue covering half of her neck. She shook with laughter and tried to stand up, but Borks dug his back legs into the sand and held her down, his massive tail swishing back and forth as he continued lapping at her chin.

“Enough, enough! I yield!” She giggled, pressing her chin to her chest.

Borks stood, tail still wagging as he shook, sending water flying.

“What do you two say to a race?” I asked, petting Borks’s overlarge head.

He shifted back to his lithe Greyhound form, letting out an affirmative bark as Maria got to her feet. Her back was covered in sand, but the still-pouring rain was already washing it away.

“Well, if you boys are fine with losing,” she replied, shrugging. “I suppose we can race. What are the rules?”

“The rules, huh?” I asked, rubbing my chin. “I reckon first to the southern mountain wins. The only rule is—” I cut off, sprinting southward as fast as I could.

“Cheater!” Maria roared from behind me.

I glanced back, seeing them both trailing me through the sheets of falling water.

“There are no rules!” I replied, laughing.

My legs thundered along, and with each passing step, I felt... free. Despite my enhanced body, I spent so much of my time in Tropica having to dampen my movement and appear normal. To run across the sands as fast as I could, my quads bulging with each stride—it was enchanting, all-encompassing. I lost myself in the race, becoming one with the sands blurring beneath me. I felt a pulse of power behind me. Confused, I shot a look backward—just in time to see Maria catapult Borks my way with an overhand throw.

He flew at me in his Chihuahua form, all four legs held forward. His eyes were wide, his teeth bared and tongue flicking. He let out a quiet growl, his face becoming clearer as he soared toward me at incredible speed. At the last possible moment, he shifted again, and the smushed face of a Bulldog took up my entire field of view, his curled tongue lolling from an open mouth.

The respiratorially challenged canine hit me like a gods’ damned cannonball.

I landed face-first into the sand, sliding along with my back hyper-extended and legs hanging over my head like a scorpion’s tail. I eventually slid to a stop, my torso falling over my head. Spitting sand, along with what remained of my pride, I got back to my feet. A blur of black fur and tanned skin flew past me. Maria was atop Borks’s back, who was now some kind of mastiff. She hugged him tight, laughing hysterically at my disheveled form.

“No... no rules!” she choked out in passing before losing herself to laughter once more.

I stretched my arms high, making sure all my bits still worked. I crouched low, taking a sprinters stance in the sand, then I took off, my eyes pinned on the faint flicker of black I caught sight of through the rain. By the time I reached them, they had already reached the treeline. Maria dismounted and hit the ground running. They both tore off through the underbrush at respectable speed.

Maria’s slight frame was made for traversing between the thick trunks—as was Borks’s myriad forms, apparently. He was constantly transforming, leaping from trunk to trunk as whatever dog better fit the occasion. When I caught up to him, he shot me a sidelong glance and changed back into his nightmare form. He summoned a portal and stepped through space.

“Cheating!”

“No rules!” Maria replied over her shoulder, throwing my words back at me.

That’s how you two wanna play it, huh?

A smirk came to my face, and I leaned forward, focused on each step as I kicked off trunks, leaped over bushes, and soared across the landscape. Bit by bit, I caught them, and as I passed Maria, I gave her a smug grin. Rather than the pout I was expecting, her eyes went wide. A hand reached out to stop me as I sailed through the air over a creek.

What is she—

My unfinished question was answered when I collided with a wall of stone. My cultivator’s body flew through it, tumbling haphazardly and legs going akimbo for the second time in so many minutes. I came to a stop, finding myself out of the rain and laying atop a bed of shattered rock. I coughed, waving dust away from my face.

“Fischer, are you okay?” Maria asked, appearing in the cave’s opening, Borks by her side.

“Yeah—I think so.” The air smelled stale, and I rolled over, intending to get to my feet, but I paused as I saw the remains of a half-shattered boulder.

The dull gray light of day reflected from something set in its face, standing out like a star in the night sky.

“No way...” Maria said, striding forward. “Is that...?”

I nodded, my jaw hanging open.

“I think it is...”