Heretical Fishing

Book 2: Chapter 87: Full-blown Assault

Augustus Reginald Gormona, ruler of every tree, stone, and building below him, gazed out over his kingdom. He stood atop a balcony in the highest spire of the castle, leaning on an ornate metal railing and letting the winter air wash away his troubles.

“It’s a beautiful night, Augustus,” Deklan said, leaning against the rail beside him, his metal armor clinking.

“Isn’t it? There are few things that calm my nerves so.”

Though he usually found solace in the heat of a bath, the scene before him was almost as relaxing. Even the peasants’ quarter was picturesque of an evening, the dirty streets made appealing by the warm firelight cast down by myriad lanterns. Augustus took a deep breath, focusing on the cold air tickling his nose. With each passing day over the last few months, his troubles only grew worse. It had reached a point where he no longer looked at the relics, their data too much for him to handle. He would be warned if another spirit beast ascended, of course—that it hadn’t occurred in days was a blessing of the highest order.

After ignoring the constant stream of advancements over the last couple of days, he’d questioned just how much of a threat these spirit beasts really posed. They were advancing fast, sure, but levels were mostly in trade skills: baking, tailoring, blacksmithing, woodworking, and fishing, of all things. They were hardly advancements worth losing sleep over.

I am safe, he reminded himself.

The city’s guards defended the castle, Aisa and her sisters watched the streets, and dozens of cultivators were defending the city’s wealth, ready to strike should someone be foolish enough to try to steal it.

“I need to thank you, Deklan,” Augustus said, feeling at peace.

“Oh? Why’s that, king?”

“My bad.” Deklan gave him a wide grin. “Hard to break old habits. Why’s that, Augustus?”

“Because you were right. Constantly being told of the advancements was a blight on my consciousness. A black cloud that only served to hamper my judgment. The days since I stopped checking that dread screen have been a breath of fresh air.”

“You’re welcome, Augustus.” Deklan nodded at him, then looked out at the horizon. “You’re a good man, but even the best of us need a reminder sometimes.”

This strange guard—a man that seemed to be immune to the weight of kings, queens and crowns—would have frustrated Augustus to no end mere months ago. Now, though, Augustus found himself feeling an inordinate amount of gratitude for the atypical guardsman. He was common born, the lowest of the low, and yet he seemed to possess such gravitas, such wisdom.

“You know, Deklan, in another life I’d have loved to wed you to my daughter. I’m ashamed to admit that your lowborn status prevents such a pairing, but—”

Deklan blew air from his lips. “No offense, kin—er—Augustus, but your daughter is a terror.”

Augustus slowly turned, raising an eyebrow. “Excuse me, Deklan? We are close, yes, but please mind your ton—”

“Hey...” Deklan interrupted. “What’s that?”

“Deklan,” Augustus chastised, his voice firm. “I like you, and I’d hate to have you chained. I request, nay, demand that you appolo—”

“No, really,” Deklan repeated, squinting into the night. “What in Neptune's veiny member is that?”

His face scrunching at the curse, Augustus felt his gratitude for this guard diminish. “Deklan, I think you should return to the artifact—”

“Augustus!” Deklan’s eyes turned to the king, finally showing the proper level of respect for his betters.

What the king saw in the peasant’s eyes was enough to bring his fury to a standstill. The usually lackadaisical man was serious, his eyes narrowed and mouth forming a line.

“This conversation isn’t over, Deklan, but what are you...” Augustus blinked, coming face to face with a field of white. “B...b...b...” His tongue became leaden, his mouth unable to form the words.

“Birds.” Deklan finished. “That’s a lot of birds, though.”

A swarm of seagulls, thick enough to block out the stars, flew over the capital's walls. High above them, a larger shape beat wide wings. It unleashed a honk that physically struck the king, making his royal robes flutter.

“A flock... an entire... flock...” His words was sluggish, like an entire pastry obstructed them.

“Oh!” Deklan snapped his fingers in understanding. “That’s An Entire Flock of birds! Like from the artifact, right?”

“Sound the alarm!” King Augsutus Reginald Gormona yelled, whirling on the spot.

Panicked as he was, his feet got tangled beneath him. He tumbled headfirst into a stone wall, knocking himself unconscious.

***

Corporal Claws, pusher carts and fastest in all the land, tore through the streets like her chompers tore through fish.

She and Snips had been running reconnaissance in the capital over the weeks gone, and though she had felt terrible keeping it a secret from her master, she regretted nothing. Because of the knowledge they had gained, Operation Sticky Fingers was going to succeed. Speaking of the devil, she felt her master’s power climb. Like the weight of a blanket, his familiar chi washed over her, filling her with a sense of ease.

Claws shook her head, dispelling the comfort; she had a mission to focus on. The cobbled stones were a blur beneath her lightning-wreathed limbs as she ran ever deeper into the capital, searching for... there!

A sprinkling of chi bloomed in her senses, and she turned left onto a street, veering for it. The moment she caught sight of them, her grin spread even wider. She took two white rocks from her pouch with one paw, wedging them in place between her upper lip and gums.

Weeks of scouting, months of planning, and innumerable secrets kept from her beloved master—all for this moment.

She grinned so wide that her cheeks hurt; the fun had finally arrived.

***

Following the booming honk earlier, Aisa ran through the streets.

“Stick close!” she ordered, glancing at the four cultivators assigned to her. “Which way?”

“It came from that direction!” the short-haired cultivator replied, pointing toward the eastern wall.

She had been assigned to the middle quarter that night, and though she would never leave her post, the honk rang out was an obvious declaration of war. Following the cultivator’s directions, she turned down an alleyway, sprinted through it, arrived in a square, and skidded to a stop.

An odd cart blocked the way, and before their eyes, all four of its walls fell to the ground. Something leaped atop the wooden cart, standing tall and puffing out its chest like a proud rooster. When Asia saw what it was, her eyes went wide.

A humongous rat with giant bucked teeth glared down at them like they were a fresh patch of manure. Then, movement exploded from the cart. A wall of fur, beady eyes, and twitching whiskers flowed from the cart, flooding the street. Hundreds of rats, each larger than any of the ones they’d caught in the capital over the last few days, ran in every direction.

“The... The Rat Pack!” one of the female cultivators yelled, voicing what Asia had already surmised. “Attack—”

A bolt of lightning cracked, slamming into the cultivator and sending her flying. She struck a barrel, its wooden panels exploding, and as the debris cleared, Asia’s stomach dropped. The giant rat, grinning with wicked malevolence, locked eyes with her as it stepped down from the fallen cultivator’s chest. It strode forward in what felt like slow motion, blue arcs of lightning wreathing its body.

“What are you idiot cultivators doing?” Aisa demanded, not taking her eyes off the formidable foe. “Attack! Defend the capital!”

Her order snapping them from their inaction, abilities flew from all sides. A bolt of fire, a clump of cobblestones, and a wave of green energy descended upon The Rat Pack’s leader, crashing into it.

“Good!” she yelled, whirling back to the rest of the rats. “Exterminate the rest! They can’t be as powerful as that one, and—”

Thunder struck, slamming into the stone-throwing cultivator. His lifeless body rocketed at the cart, shattering it into a million pieces. Splinters and nails rained down, obscuring her view. All she could do was stare—fear, horror, and understanding washing over her. The dust cleared, revealing their doom. The rat, crackling with energy that made the street smell of ozone, chittered at her—taunted her.

One of the rats fled the explosion and climbed over her foot, but Aisa didn’t even register it—her eyes were locked on a vision of death. The rat leader’s grin grew even wider, revealing a row of needle-sharp teeth behind the two white incisors. The rat stood up on its back legs, raising its forepaws to the sky and cackling with maniacal laughter. Movement in the sky drew Aisa’s attention, and when their shapes resolved, any ounce of hope died. A blanket of birds flew above, blocking out the night’s sky and seeming to drain the air from Aisa’s lungs.

An Entire Flock of Birds... she thought, despair turning to numb disbelief. It’s a full-blown assault...

When the rat leader caught sight of the birds above, the laughter died in its throat. The rat pointed skyward, gesturing at them wildly as she let out a shrill chirp that sounded almost like an accusation. When the rat’s eyes returned to meet Aisa’s, they were filled with fury.

“Run,” Aisa ordered the remaining two. “Flee deeper into the capita—”

The moment she issued the order to flee, the two remaining cultivators listened. She wanted to preserve the kingdom’s strength—sacrifice herself for the greater good—but the spirit beast saw right through her. In one movement, it zapped around the square, ricocheting off walls and striking both cultivators, knocking them out. It came to a stop before her, peering up at her, and despite the size difference, Aisa felt as though she was looking up at a mountain.

The rat leader gave her an exaggerated wink, once more puffing its chest out like a proud cock at the crack of dawn.

Lightning shattered the air, her hair stood on end, and her consciousness fled.

***

With the rabble taken care of, Claws chirped again, yelling her displeasure at the seagulls flying above as she shook a fist in their general direction. The scheming pelicans had outdone her by collecting way more birds than she had rats. She’d intended to have more fun with the cultivators, to draw out the fun, as was her right. The sight of so many birds, though, had made a red-hot anger well up from within her. Claws forced herself to take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as her master had instructed so many times.

More birds was a good thing, she supposed, despite it making her light shine dimmer. Kicking splinters of the shattered cart as she went, she started gathering the cultivators, cursing Bill and Pelly under her breath all the while.

***

Cinnamon let out a thankful peep as Pelly dropped her and the payload.

Taking one last glance at her feathered daughter, Cinnamon turned her attention to the street below. The cultivators there were engaged in some sort of argument, spittle flying from the mouth of the person who had to be their handler. Cinnamon adjusted her armor. It was made of thin metal sheets that were stained black, made to resemble the very thing she had been collecting in the forest. Though she hadn’t filled the entire payload, she’d collected an impressive amount, filling it halfway to the top.

Power flooded from across the capital, its source clear—it was her master, unleashing only a fraction of his strength. It made her soul feel calm, and she took a moment to wish him a joyous night. As the ground grew closer, some of the conversation below drifted up to her fuzzy ears.

“Obey my orders, scum!” the handler ordered.

Well, that was just rude. Her master would never treat his followers so.

“We are obeying orders!” the bearded cultivator spat back. “The king ordered you to hold this square! His authority outshin—”

“Look out!” another cultivator yelled, his blue eyes wide as Cinnamon’s payload dropped toward their heads.

She waved a greeting his way, grinning beneath her armor.

They all looked up, saw the payload about to strike their heads, and dashed back instinctively. Just in time, too, because Cinnamon and her mount struck the place where they’d been standing. As she had expected, the payload had been engineered flawlessly; its sides split apart, each panel flung outward when the bottom plate hit the cobbled street. As such, the impact did not harm the thousands of beetles within. They flowed out like a black, spiky liquid, engulfing the street. Cinnamon found their writhing bodies around her feet disgusting, but it was a small price to pay for such a dramatic entrance.

The bearded man that had been fighting the handler recovered first. He stared at the bugs, then at Cinnamon, his eyes going wide.

“The... The Beetle Boys!”

Cinnamon let out her best beetle scree, confirming his assertion. She held her beetle-armored forepaws high to the sky, making the pose Claws had shown her. The humans were frozen, captivated by her grace, her ferocity. Ellis had called the bugs ‘elephant beetles’, and as they stopped flowing outward, they started taking flight. The air became alive, and with her enhanced awareness, Cinnamon watched the face of every single human surrounding her change.

It. Was. Beautiful.

Power swelled, hands extended, and abilities flew, but Cinnamon was faster. In the blink of an eye, she slammed into each cultivator, lashing out with a headbutt, a roundhouse kick—Bill was right; that one was fun—a left jab, and a body slam, knocking all four of them out cold. She came to a stop before the handler, gazing up imperiously at her foe. Annoyingly, the handler was looking toward the sky, her eyes perusing the seagulls currently blocking out the moon.

“An Entire Flock of Birds,” the handler mumbled, dropping to her knees. Her eyes drifted down to Cinnamon. “Please. Spare me...”

In response, Cinnamon patted her on the cheek. The handler licked her lips, hope dawning in her eyes.

“You’ll.. you’ll let me go?”

Cinnamon snorted. Frack no. She backhanded the woman, sending her sprawling to the ground in a lifeless pile. Cinnamon stared down at her armored paw—Bill was right about that move, too. Slapping people was fun.

She set about gathering the cultivators, making sure she didn’t step on any beetles; the spiky little creatures had served her well, and she was proud of not letting a single insect fall to the cultivators’ attacks.

***

“You look fracking ridiculous, Ellis,” Theo laughed.

“Your thoughts are of little matter,” Ellis said, adjusting his armor. “My ego is nothing before the mission.”

“Booo!” Danny drawled, giving a thumbs down. “At least fight back—I need some entertainment.”

“How much longer?” Peter asked, running a hand through his hair. “We’ve been cooped up in here for days. I’m getting desperate for some proper food.”

Barry nodded. “It can’t be too long now. We just have to wait for Borks to let us out.”

Sergeant Snips was sitting between Pistachio and Rocky off to one corner, hissing orders at the latter, who nodded with only a little annoyance. Before she could finish, the portal into Bork’s pocket dimension opened, letting fresh air flow into the space.

“Yes!” Danny yelled, jumping to his feet.

Borks poked his head in, letting out a loud bark before retracting it.

“Okay,” Barry said. “Everyone ready?”

Every face turned toward him. The fishing club—minus Keith, who was back in Tropica with Trent—were the first to nod. Next, the woodworkers, standing and stretching as they gave him their assent. The two smiths, who locked arms with each other, shook, then nodded at Barry. Finally, Fischer’s creatures. Barry knelt down so they were eye to eye-stalk. “Pistachio, Snips—you know the drill.”

They nodded, both blowing serious bubbles.

“And Rocky… please don’t blow anything up. This is a delicate mission.”

He scowled back at Barry, but Snips petted Rocky’s carapace, nodding at Barry that Rocky would behave himself.

Content, he stood back up, casting his gaze around the room. “In that case, I officially call for the commencement of Operation Sticky Fingers!”

They whooped and hollered, letting out their nervous energy before leaving the dimensional space. One after the other, they ran through the portal, entering the capital city of Gormona.