Heretical Fishing

Book 2: Chapter 4: Burdens

Book 2: Chapter 4: Burdens

I leaned down, eyebrows knitted as I stared at Leroy.

I clicked my fingers softly before his face.

"You with us, mate?"

Leroy startled and his eyes cleared.

"O-oh. Sorry. My mind went elsewhere for a moment."

It's not surprising that there's some lingering damage from his time in the capital, I thought.

"No need to apologize. The fish is ready, and seeing as though you caught it, I thought you should have the first bite."

He returned to his senses swiftly, giving me a broad grin as he accepted the fish.

"Thank you."

Leroy cut through the crumbed fish with the side of a fork. It crunched, and as he separated a chunk of the flaky flesh, steam billowed from it. He tentatively lifted it to his mouth, blew once, then bit down.

As his expression melted from anticipation to pure bliss, I darted a look at Maria. She was already looking my way, and we shared a knowing grin.

"Mmmmm," Leroy said, moving his head side-to-side in a little dance.

"Yep," Maria said. "Looks like he's definitely a heretic."

I nodded seriously.

"Now that we have proof, we'll have to let the kingdom know."

"It's not my fault, officers," Leroy said, covering his mouth. "It's too delicious—I was left absent choice."

Maria raised an eyebrow at me.

"I guess we'll have to try it then. Just to make sure he's telling the truth, you know?"

I nodded again, a smile coloring my features.

"That would only be prudent—well said, officer Maria."

I used my fork to break apart the fish, and as steam rushed up to assault me, I breathed deep.

I still had a tray of herbs and spices I hadn't used yet, so I'd added three previously untested flavors to the crumbs before frying the fish. Their faint aromas wafted up, and I closed my eyes, focusing more on the scents. There was a hint of smokiness, something like rosemary but slightly more floral, and another that smelled of caramelized onion. I raised an eyebrow at the latter, but it wasn't unpleasant, just surprising.

I placed the fish in my mouth, and before I could even start chewing, the flavors exploded. As I bit down, the fish's juices and the golden crumbing fused with and calmed the herbs and spices fighting for dominance.

Maria let out a noise of delight, but I barely heard it; I was busy analyzing the tastes.

"Needs more of the caramelized onion and less of the floral rosemary..." I mused aloud after swallowing.

"Sorry, what?" Maria asked, her eyes half-lidded.

"Just taking notes." I pulled out my collar and peered down. "Did you get that, Cinnamon? Don't let me forget."

Her head popped out as she blinked sleep from her eyes, then she gave me a serious nod.

"Cinnamon!"

At Maria's voice, the little bunny flew from my chest with a deft kick. She sailed at Maria, who caught her and let out a lilting giggle.

She scratched behind Cinnamon's ear, and the bunny's back leg kicked incessantly as she leaned into the touch.

"So this is Cinnamon?" Leroy asked. "You're the only one I haven't met yet—it's a pleasure."

Cinnamon raised her ears and turned to take in the cultivator. She spun her body, braced herself against Maria's thigh, and started wiggling her fluffy little tooshie.

Knowing what would come next, I turned to look at Leroy, and was delighted when his eyes went wide at the bunny-turned-torpedo that sailed his way. He leaned back in shock and she crashed into his chest, causing him to topple onto his back on the sand.

He let out an oof, then chuckled as he reached up to pet her.

"I bet you get along with Corporal Claws, don't you?" he asked, and I couldn't help but laugh.

In the week I'd taken a forced break, Cinnamon's personality had flourished, and I could scarcely remember the terrified, injured rabbit we'd found out in the forest.

"Cinnamon and Claws have become fast friends over the last week—I'm not sure if it's Claws' influence rubbing off on her, or if their similarities are why they bonded, but the result remains the same: she's a little trickster."

Cinnamon turned to look at me with one eye, and the corner of her mouth curled into a cheeky little smirk.

***

Joel, the head priest of the Cult of Carcinization's Tropica branch, sat in solemn silence.

He had shuttered each window and door of the cult's headquarters. The air was still, and as he took a breath, the scent of something unpleasant washed over him.

Rather than recoil from the disgusting smell, he leaned into it, focusing all his attention on the odors flooding the room.

Jess, his lead disciple, made a retching sound.

Joel peered out through a slitted eye.

"I know it's unpleasant, but this is all part of our worship."

"I know," she replied, her voice muffled as she covered her mouth with an arm. "How did you even catch these?"

Joel glanced at the three fish sitting on a tray in the center of the room.

"I caught them last night on a fishing rod."

Jess's eyes and above were the only part of her face visible, and her forehead scrunched in thought.

"That's... I suppose it's fine given that we're a church, but still..."

Joel nodded.

"I know—it still feels antithetical to our beliefs, but the doctrine is clear—once a crab deity is identified, all other rules go out the window. The most important thing is nourishing the emerging ascendant."

"How did you even know how to make a fishing rod? Were there instructions in the doctrine?"

"Uh... yes."

In truth, he'd asked Fischer, but he didn't feel the need to divulge that information.

"Where they came from doesn't matter," he continued. "We need to meditate on and suffuse this fish with our will before offering it to our deity."

"Right. Sorry..." Jess removed her arm, scrunching her nose as the fish's smell hit her once more. "Let's resume."

Joel flared his nostrils and closed his eyes as he breathed in the unpleasant aroma, willing himself to become one with the fish.

***

With the sun having set, two cowled individuals walked through the empty streets of Tropica with a smelly payload.

Joel held one side of the tray, Jess the other, and each time the wind changed direction, one of them dry heaved.

"How is the smell getting worse?" Jess demanded, trying to bury her face against her shoulder.

"That is the scent of our devotion—remember it well."

"Our devotion smells like Poseidon's swarthy sack."

Joel made to chastise her heresy, but a breeze kicked up and wafted the fish's scent toward him, and he held his breath lest he desecrate the offering with his lunch.

"Yeah, it smells pretty bad," he forced out, facing his head away.

One horrible-smelling breath at a time, they made their way between the buildings of Tropica and down toward the coast.

As they passed a house on the southern side of town, a northerly wind hit them. It swept the smell of decaying fish away, and they both breathed a sigh of relief.

Joel led Jess down to the water's edge, and they set the tray down.

"What do we do now?" Jess asked.

"Now, we offer one to the ocean, and we hope the deity hears our call."

Joel grabbed one of the fish and lobbed it into the shallows. Small waves crashed and lapped at the shore, dragging the fish—and hopefully its scent—out to sea. He placed another fish on the beach, creating a trail back to the offering-laden tray.

He lowered himself to the sand and shuffled his feet as he took the stance of a crab.

"Let us meditate, Jess."

She nodded and squatted down.

***

The moon rose higher in the sky, and a breeze sent a shiver down Joel's spine.

He opened his eyes, intent on gaging the passage of time by the moon's passage, but something in the waves caught his attention.

Two mighty claws were raised high, opening and closing with incessant regularity, as if accepting and demanding more of their worship.

Joel nudged Jess's thigh, and when she raised a questioning eyebrow at him, he nodded toward the claws.

Her annoyed glare turned awe-filled when she saw it, and as one, they threw themselves to the sand in prostration.

***

Rocky had been out patrolling the bay for his beloved mistress when a delicious scent wafted his way.

She had instructed him not to bother with the nighttime guard duty following his ascension, as his time was—in her opinion—better spent gaining power. He disagreed with this. If anything were to happen to his spiky matriarch, the world would grow dull and empty. Better to ensure no harm became her, even if it meant he missed out on some sleep.

When the scent hit him, he immediately followed it. Not because he was hungry, of course—it was because he had to make sure some devious actor wasn't setting a trap for his beloved. On the off-chance he found a tasty treat, he'd have to indulge and ensure it wasn't poisoned. Such were the burdens of Rocky, yet he welcomed them.

He followed the delicious aroma all the way back to Tropica, and when he spied the two cultists sitting on the beach, he paused but a moment. He had been explicitly forbidden from contacting the two following their introduction to Sergeant Snips, but given they may be trying to offer her poisoned fish, he was left absent choice.

Rocky couldn't detect any poison, but it was better to be safe than sorry—it definitely had nothing to do with the fish's pungent allure.

With both his claws held high in a violent warning above the waves, he began eating the possibly poisoned fish that had been thrown into the ocean.

***

Joel chanced a glance from his prone position, and when he saw the claws still held high in welcoming approval, he slammed his forehead back down.

"Remain prostrate, Jess. This may be another test of our devotion."

"You remain prostrate! I saw you peeking just now!"

"How did you know I was stealing a glance unless you were also peeking?"

***

Having eaten the fish beneath the waves—and detecting no poison—Rocky moved to test the rest of the delicious-smelling food.

He scuttled up the beach with silent steps, watching the humans for any unexpected movement. With his claws still held high in a promise of impending violence, he noticed they were talking to each other in hushed tones, so he hissed a warning for them to cease their planning, then indulged in the aromatic meal—to test for poison, of course.

***

The deity hissed a greeting, and Joel slowly lifted his head.

The crab still had its claws held high; she opened and closed them, praising their continued worship as she began eating their offering.

A cloud that had been obscuring the moon moved aside, and a soft-white light illuminated the scene. As it did so, Joel's eyes went wide. The crab's spikes were gone, its eyepatch was nowhere to be seen, and if Joel's memory didn't deceive him, it had shrunk in size.

Realization drove an icicle into his spine, and he froze as his vision tunneled in on the deity before him.

***

Rocky delighted in the terror and awe in the humans' eyes.

They were the correct emotions to show, and he puffed himself up as he continued eating, devouring every bite of the offering to ensure there was nary a drop of poison present.

He turned to leave, but a devious thought crossed his mind, and he slowly turned back toward them. Their gazes were still locked on his magnificent form as he grabbed the tray and slowly approached them.

Swifter than either of the humans could see, he lifted the metal tray high, then slammed it down on the male's head.