Heretical Fishing

Book 3: Chapter 69: Vengeance

As Deklan’s consciousness stirred, a comforting weight settled over his body. To anyone else, it would be harder than forged steel. But as it flowed around him, it bent, conforming to his shape. He squeezed his hand, marveling at the strength it possessed. When had he become so powerful? He extended his senses, and the moment he discovered Dom beside him, also lost in his own musings, knowledge came rushing back in.

Teddy!

Though Deklan’s vision refused to focus and his limbs tingled, he shot to his feet, looking for his pal. Their breakthrough had come, but what if it hadn’t been enough? Teddy could have been injured, or worse, by the enemy cultivator’s attack. Deklan could feel his and Dom’s chi still wrapping their friend’s body, but it told him nothing of Teddy’s internal state.

“Teddy!” Dom yelled, panic tinging his voice as he shot upright. “Are you okay?”

Deklan stumbled forward, heading for the blur of brown in his view that had to be the bear. Ice crunched beneath his feet, and he fell to his knees before Teddy. Reaching out a hand, Deklan prepared for the worst. His hands moved through the protective barrier. He intended to search Teddy for any sign of a wound, but the moment he touched fur, a jolt ran through. Faster than the blink of an eye, something far below had stolen some of Deklan’s chi, deemed it inadequate, and spat it back out.

All at once, Deklan’s senses returned. The essence coursing through his and his brother’s body snapped into place, making them both take a sharp breath. As they exhaled, they gazed down at Teddy, relief flooding them.

“Is...” Deklan licked his lips. “Is he asleep?”

Teddy snored in response, his impressive jowls flapping as he released a deep sigh. He lay atop of a mound of shattered cart, chunks of ice, and bits of fish. Despite the destruction of their hard work, Deklan smiled. Teddy was perfectly fine.

“Woah...” Dom said, peering down at the cultivator.

The man lay under one of Teddy’s giant paws, his mouth ajar and eyes rolled into the back of his head. There was a large bump just below his hairline, which was, evidently, the bit of his body he’d tried to hit Teddy with.

“Yeah,” Deklan agreed. “Looks like our chi is just as strong as it feels.”

With the knowledge that Teddy was safe, Deklan surveyed what remained of the fish they’d harvested. Seeing the damage really hammered home how strong their shield-like chi was; the cultivator’s attack had held almost-unfathomable power, and unlike Teddy, the cart hadn’t stood a chance. Most of the fish were completely obliterated, even the scales and bones turned to paste.

It filled Deklan with a smoldering rage, one he’d not felt since discovering the king’s lies.

To him, taking a life, even one of a non-sapient animal, was no small thing. Each fish caught was something to be cherished and thanked, for they were a source of sustenance for Deklan and those he held dear. This entire cartload of fish, which had been bound for the congregation, were now destroyed. Their lives had been taken, and for what? Just to be smashed by some bird-brained prick?

His lip twitched and he averted his eyes, the sight only making his blood boil. One corner of the cart seemed to have mostly survived, and Deklan walked over to it, kicking a loose plank of wood aside. The object below it made his eyes fly wide. The lower half of a fish poked up, its head buried in chunks of ice and wooden splinters. He held his breath as he brushed away the debris, hoping beyond hope that it had somehow survived the impact. He grabbed it by the tail and lifted it gingerly. He must have instinctively wanted to protect it, because his chi rushed out, creating a shielding barrier around it. Deklan slowly turned it, praying that it was whole. As he twisted it this way and that, he couldn’t find a spot of damage. He released his breath, a small smile coming to his face.

“Deklan!” Dom called, grabbing Deklan’s attention and holding something up like a trophy—another fish, some scales missing but the flesh intact. Dom’s was also covered in a protective shield, impervious to outside damage.

A strained groan came from behind Teddy. Holding his head with both hands, the enemy cultivator sat up, straining to move aside the giant bear paw holding him down.

Deklan and Dom shared a glance, a pair of devious grins coming to their faces.

***

I felt an immense sense of schadenfreude as Deklan and Dom smacked the absolute piss out of the cultivator. Their fish-clubs swung down like unholy mallets, one connecting to the chest and the other to the head. Loathe as I was to admit it, the evil prick had flown rather gracefully when he’d attacked Teddy earlier. Now, he careened through the air like a bug caught in a storm, his limbs splayed as he sailed back over the mountain whence he’d come.

The bloke had tried to take out my favorite bear, which alone made him deserving of the strike. But his crimes didn’t end there. He was also the one that had wronged Roger so long ago, only increasing my sense of pleasure at his fish-based punishment. When I saw his trajectory, I couldn’t help but laugh. He’d be in for a world of hurt when he eventually landed. Maria watched closely, her core buzzing in delight at the dispensation of justice.

Dom’s eyes were tracking the man’s passage, but he tore them away, focusing on Teddy. He passed his fish to Deklan, then bent and tried to lift the bear. Just as when Deklan had touched Teddy, the network below stole a bit of Dom’s chi before spitting it back out violently.

“Frack me!” Dom said, leaping backwards.

Deklan grimaced. “Yeah. Seems like we can’t move him.”

Dom looked to the east, then shifted his gaze to his twin. “Go help them.”

“You’re sure?”

Dom nodded back, taking a step closer to Teddy. “I’ll keep him safe. You protect the others.”

That was all that needed to be said. Dual wielding a pair of fish as tall as he was and running with a speed only possible because of his breakthrough, Deklan raced toward the mountaintop. His face was tight, an anger still burning deep within him at what had become of our fish-filled cart.

I completely understood how he felt. We’d made my mobile esky together, and seeing it destroyed felt like a personal attack. The fish going to waste was even more egregious. If not for my need to remain still as I channeled chi into the ground, I’d have rushed there and enacted a similar punishment. Thankfully, the process of filling the network below seemed to be coming to an end. It still demanded something else, some requirement that I couldn’t yet identify, but I could worry about that when the time came. Hopefully it wouldn’t take much longer.

Trust! the echoes reminded me, repeating themselves.

Reminded that I was stuck in place, I sent my awareness toward the battle, fighting off the desire to go assist my friends. The defenders were holding their own, but that didn’t stop my guilt from bubbling up.

Because of my absence and the temporary incapacitation of my animal pals, the defenders were stretched thin. We had the numbers advantage, but the king’s forces made up for it with the power of their corrupted chi. It took at least four of our regular cultivators to take on just one of the former prisoners or handlers. Trent was holding back the king by himself, the father-son duo clashing in midair above the battlefield like fire-spewing Super Saiyans. Roger had paired off against Tom Osnan Sr., whose power seemed to have increased tenfold. He grew massive vines from the ground that were laced with sickly essence. They lashed out at Roger with unending persistence, only to get cut down by Roger’s blades.

Groups of spare defenders were moving around the battle in search of opportunity to strike, but the attackers and their corrupted chi seemed to be unnaturally perceptive, even for cultivators. Each time a group found what seemed like the perfect position, their target would dash away before they could even attempt to flank them.

A familiar scent that I couldn’t quite place rose from just beside the battle. I investigated, and when I didn’t sense anything, I gave it a quick visual scan before returning my attention to the—what the?

I did a double take.

Two men were crouched in the shrubs there, feeding what looked like herbs into a fire. Suddenly, I recognized the smell. It was the scent that had lingered in the clearing I’d cleansed earlier today. The moment I’d sensed the chi of the alchemist Solomon, I was almost certain that he was the one who’d been behind the poisonous patch. Now, I was sure that it was him. But what were he and Francis, the ‘high alchemist’ or whatever, doing?

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They started talking, and I listened intently.

***

“You’re sure this will help, Solomon?” Francis asked.

“Positive. It would be impossible for you to tell, but...” He trailed off as reached into his pocket. Finding what he was looking for, he fed it into the flames. “But the king and his forces seem to be able to sense the cultivators here. If we can dull their senses, even just a little...”

Francis grabbed his sleeve, and when Solomon looked his way, Francis’s gaze was fervent. “We can use it as cover to leave.” Francis’s eyes widened, and he dipped his head. “If it pleases you, I mean. Sir.”

Solomon should have been elated at the deference from the High Alchemist Francis. It was a symbol of his ascension, his status as the Alchemist. But all Solomon felt was worry for the safety of the people here. They were cultivators, people that were reputed to be vile. According to the Church of the Alchemist’s doctrine, only the medicinal herbs that their deity consumed would stop their heart from becoming that of a rabid dog.

Yet the people here, some who had been chained in the capital, seemed anything but. Hades’ scraggly beard, there was a literal hellhound with them, and even he seemed nice. It went against everything Solomon thought was the truth. And there was another reason that Solomon wanted to help them.

“The man that leads this place, the one named Fischer that the king is after... he saved me, Francis.”

“A chance encounter! One that we should thank the heavens for! But not one that you should lose your life over!”

“It’s more than that. Fischer’s chi...” Solomon gestured for Francis to follow him, who did so after only a little hesitation.

They moved through the bushes, taking care not to be spotted by any of the attacking force. After going around ten meters, Solomon started building another fire. Moments later, the kindling was aflame, and they fed herbs into it.

“His chi is pure, Francis,” Solomon continued, not knowing any other way to describe it. “He is pure. From that alone, I was inclined to trust him, but seeing how his followers act...” Solomon shook his head. “There’s no doubt in my mind. He’s a good person, and there’s no reason we can’t coexist. For that to happen, though, they need to win.”

Francis’s disappointment with that answer was clear on his face, but he said nothing.

An odd whistling sound cut through the din of battle, and Solomon chanced a look, expecting to see another of the meteors that were apparently a result of a spirit beast. Instead of a spherical shape zooming through the air, he spied the silhouette of a man. It arced directly to the center of the battle. When they noticed it, almost everyone froze, scanning for a possible attack. Upon spotting the man sailing thir way, the moment dragged on, the witnesses likely as confused as Solomon by the events.

All but one man, anyway.

“Lucian!” the soldier with the sharp chi—was it Roger?—bellowed, drawing back his sword. Moving so fast to Solomon’s senses that it looked like he teleported, Roger appeared in the air right before one of Francis’s ‘birds’. He lashed out with the flat of his blade. It connected with a horrifying crack, sounding more like a splitting mountain than metal on flesh. Lucian, still somehow in one piece, slammed into Tom Osnan Sr. The men tumbled end over end, landing in a tangle of limbs.

“Er… I’m sorry?” Solomon whispered to Francis, not knowing what else to say.

“Don’t be. That one is too far gone.”

Solomon shook his head. He didn’t have the power to join this fight. The best way for him to help was to blind the enemies’ senses. He reached into his pocket, searching for the last herb this fire needed.

***

High above the battle, Trent crossed his arms before him, absorbing a blow.

“Useless!” his father screamed, sickly chi shooting from his fist.

Trent had to shield his body with flame. Even so, his father’s heat was almost too much, the king’s essence seeking to burn him away. They gazed at each other, both men’s eyes filled with hatred.

Augustus Reginald Gormona shook his head. “You are my greatest mistake.”

“Good,” Trent replied, sending flames roaring from his arms.

His father flew backwards, coming to rest in midair with fire streaming from his bare feet, his shoes having long been incinerated. “You could have been the next ruler. Instead, you’ll just be a lesson for generations to come. A reminder of what happens when you betray your family.”

Trent snorted, amusement warring with his fury. “I betrayed my family? You fed me poison!”

“Don’t be dramatic. It had to be done, just as it was done to me.”

A conversation replayed in Trent’s mind, a memory that he recalled with unerring accuracy. They were within the throne room, the late-afternoon light streaming in through the stained-glass windows above. Trent was only a child, barely old enough to form a coherent sentence.

“This new recipe is stronger, my king,” Solomon said, opening his bag. “I recommend a half dose.”

The king tugged at his beard in thought. He didn’t have to consider long. “Give him the full dose. I still harbored fantasies of overthrowing my father when I was a boy—I never did, of course, but I won’t risk having my own son plot against me.”

Trent’s mother, at least, hesitated a little. “Perhaps we could start with a smaller dose. If that doesn’t work, we can—”

“Do not speak out of turn.” Though the king’s words were quiet, the threat in them was clear.

She averted her gaze and dipped her head in supplication.

Looking back now, Trent could see the hesitation on Solomon’s face. The alchemists knew what would happen. And neither of them said a thing. Instead, they’d poured their concoction into a cup and given it to Trent. He recalled the taste. The sickly sweet flavor mixed with underlying wrongness that only a child could willingly ingest without asking questions. The light streaming through the colored windows above gave a blood-red tint to the clear potion.

It all flashed before him in an instant, and as Trent returned to the present, he made no effort to hide his disgust with everyone involved. “I remember everything, father,” he spat. “You could have killed me with the dose you gave me. You put my own life at risk because you were scared of a child.” He leaned forward, getting closer. “All because you’re a coward.”

The king snarled, flames curling from between bared teeth. Without a word, he flew forward, cocking his arm back and suffusing it with chi. Which was exactly what Trent had been waiting for. He raised his left hand, only sending enough essence there to block the vicious blow. Hiding his right hand from sight, he prepared the rest of his power in his core, gathering it for use.

Trent was going to counter-attack. With any luck, he’d end the fight in one move.

He forced a serious expression, not wanting to give away the ruse he’d been working toward since their battle began. His father drew closer by the second, and as the king punched out with his closed fist, Trent finally smiled. The king was committed, and it was too late for him to pull back. Trent’s chi burst from his core, overjoyed to be let free. It shot down his arm and into his fist, the power swelling there almost too much for him to handle. His grin growing wider, Trent’s right hand rocketed forward, propelled by jets of flame.

He craved the surprise that would be wrought over his father’s face, his gaze boring into his father in anticipation of the moment the king recognized defeat.

But the moment never came.

His father’s face only grew elated, a hint of undeniable madness coloring his features. When he felt and saw the power swelling from his father’s closed hand, Trent immediately recognised his mistake. His father had been holding back too. And as the punch approached, leveled directly for Trent’s abdomen, it was his own defeat that he foresaw. Just as he’d laid the trap for his father, his father had laid a trap for him, one that it was too late for him to retreat from.

When his obliteration was only a fraction of a second away, an odd calm settled over Trent, caressing his body. He didn’t look away, instead choosing to witness the deathblow from his own father as it descended. Before the fist physically struck, the corrupted fire shot forward as a never-ending torrent of flames that assailed his body. He closed his eyes then, accepting his fate. A second passed, then two. By the time the flamethrower ended, he still felt no pain.

Trent cracked an eye, peering out at the world, just in time to two massive, silvery clubs slam right into his father’s head. The king shot to the ground as a blur, making a crater when he landed with a sickening thud.

“It’s just like I told you,” Deklan said, resting a giant... were those fish? on each shoulder.

“... What?” was all Trent could say, blinking at the massive creatures that Deklan had used as blunt-force weapons.

“Remember?” Deklan tilted his head, giving him a friendly smile. “I said that you should learn to rely on the people around you.” He pointed at Trent’s arm with one of his humongous fish-clubs. “I’ve got you covered, and I mean that quite literally.”

Trent lifted his hand, holding it before his face and twisting it in the light. There was a silvery sheen covering his skin, and now that he focused on it, he could tell where his sense of calm had come from earlier. It wasn’t his at all. It was an extension of Deklan’s power. Just as Roger’s chi felt like a blade ready to cut, Deklan’s was a soothing barrier, willing to shield you from danger.

A boulder deep within Trent’s mind cracked. As the surface fractured, the inside crumbled, falling away like so many grains of sand. He took a shuddering breath as emotions rushed up from nowhere, hitting him harder than Deklan had smacked his father. Tears welled in his eyes. But before the first had a chance to fall, a sense of dread pooled beneath them, swiftly rising up to become a tidal wave.

Trent glanced down.

From the crater his father had made, the nauseating chi returned, strong enough to wash away the clean essence being released by Peter and the spirit tree. At the same time, apocalyptic flames spread over the battlefield, consuming all they touched and forcing the defenders back.

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