Heretical Fishing

Book 2: Chapter 63: Expansion

Book 2: Chapter 63: Expansion

Barry watched over Ellis’s shoulder as the door opened, revealing the room beyond.

Various tubs lined the space. There was an odd contraption on the wall, but as Ellis walked over and pulled it down, Barry understood what it was—a drying rack. On the side of the room, a series of faucets sprouted from the wall. Ellis picked up a tub and turned one of the taps on. A clear, viscous liquid poured out.

“Remarkable...” Ellis reached for the pencil in his pocket, but when he didn’t find it, he started patting down his pants. “Where did I put my…?”

“Here,” Barry said, throwing the pencil to him.

Ellis caught it, nodded in thanks, and began writing.

Barry spun, looking into the tailoring room. Ruby and Steven were poring over it, the former cataloging a gigantic cupboard filled with different materials, the latter inspecting a loom that took up a full third of the space. Others were milling in the hallway and looking between the rooms, so Barry made his way toward the other doors. Helen was leaning against the wall next to the new smithy. He put an arm round her waist and peered inside.

Both Fergus and Duncan were completely silent as they stood in the center of their new workshop. Their heads drifted around, taking in everything they saw. Barry had never seen so many tools, and he doubted a larger collection existed anywhere in the kingdom. He couldn’t even fathom what half of them were used for. The wall of tools, though impressive, was nothing compared to the forges. They were both set into the far wall, and as Barry watched, Fergus walked up to them. He leaned his head inside, peering around the vacuous space.

“... where on Kallis are the bellows?”

In response, Duncan reached out and flicked one of two switches. A soft hum slowly grew, and Fergus reached an arm in, his eyebrows forming a line.

Duncan, his eyes going wide and a grin growing, flicked the other switch. He skidded to a stop in front of the forge on the right, actually jumping into it and reaching an arm into the chimney at the rear.

“It sucks air up!” he yelled, leaning out to look at Fergus.

His master moved as a blur, appearing before the forge and reefing Duncan out of it.

“Get out of there, you blasted fool! Are you trying to get yourself incinerated?!”

At the reprimanding, Duncan merely grinned. Barry mirrored it as he turned, heading for the woodworking room.

When he crossed through into the opposite door, he found himself corrected. There was a larger collection in the kingdom than the blacksmithing tools behind him. As with the smithing tools, he had no clue what some of the odd-shaped chisels could be used for. There was what looked like a machine in the back of the room, which was currently being inspected by both woodworkers.

Brad reached up and grabbed what looked kind of like the metal bit you’d put in a hand drill, but was the shape of an arrowhead. He put it in a hole atop the machine, then leaned back as he pressed a button. The metal bit spun in a blur as a high-pitched whir rang out through the room. The two brothers immediately turned to each other, eyes wide. Greg grabbed Brad by the shoulders. His brother grabbed him back. They hopped in a circle, laughing wordlessly.

Barry eyed the rest of the bits on the wall behind the machine. There were hundreds of them, all with different shapes and lengths. As their childlike giggling subsided, he eased forward, Helen at his side and holding his hand.

“What are they for...?”

Both turned. Their eyes were feverish.

“Everything, Barry,” Brad said, his gaze growing even more fierce. “Everything.”

***

As George sat for their afternoon meditation, something dragged his awareness in an odd direction.

He’d first believed that such distractions were a failure of meditation, but both his family’s tome and his hours of practice revealed the truth. He was human, after all. Thoughts came as they willed, as sure as the sun rose and fell. The skill of meditation wasn’t so much about the ability to banish thought entirely—it was about refocus. One’s capability to recognise the thought, acknowledge it, and let it go. The thought that dragged him toward his wedding ring, though, was... different.

He felt the iridescent stone set in a silver band as his attention seemed to get pulled into it. He felt the spherical stone from within, as if it was his own body. The silver setting holding him in place was both fragile and strong. A soft metal that combined with the iridescent stone to become something greater than the sum of their parts. The rings that he and his wife wore were a remnant of the past, one of the few relics remaining of his family’s inheritance. The more he considered it, the more sure he became—his wedding band wasn’t just a physical promise of his commitment to Geraldine. But... what was it, exactly?

With his awareness inside the stone, the pulse of energy that came from the southwest rocked him. He inhaled a shuddering breath as he was thrown from the ring and returned to his body. The hand wearing his ring was dragged back behind him, heading toward the pulse of power for a fraction of a second. He blinked, his vision taking a moment to focus after having his eyes closed for so long. Despite the cool air, a sweat broke from his skin as he looked down at his hand, wondering if he had imagined it.

“George...”

He spun to Geraldine, adrenaline spiking at the panic in her voice. She stared down at her own hand, her lip quivering.

“What... what was that?”

He swallowed.

“You felt it too?”

She nodded

“I was...” She pressed her lips into a line to stop them shaking. “I was inside my ring? I don’t know if that’s the right term, but it felt almost like…”

“Like it was your own body,” George finished, reaching a reassuring hand out to rest on her leg. “It’s okay, Geraldine. It was the same for me.”

She chewed her leaner-by-the-day cheek, still staring down.

“What does it mean?”

A tidal wave of thoughts washed forth, crashing down into George. Did it have something to do with the blast from earlier? What did it mean that it physically pulled their wedding bands? If the iridescent pearls set in his and Geraldine’s rings were more than just a promise to each other, what were they? All at once, he realized there was no point in addressing the thoughts right now, especially when his wife needed him. He stretched his back before getting to his feet.

He extended a hand toward Geraldine. “Should we go make some dinner and talk about it, my love?”

She took a deep breath through her nose, held it, then exhaled through her mouth. Her eyes cleared, and with a much calmer demeanor, she grasped his hand and let him pull her up.

“That sounds lovely, dear.”

***

Joel, the leader of the Cult of Carcinization, smiled out at the ocean. Today was a monumental day, one that would no doubt go down in the cult’s history books.

“If not those of the very heavens...” he dared to dream aloud, eyes fixed on the small waves cresting the horizon.

“What was that?” Jess asked, leaning in to better hear him.

“Er... it’s nothing, Jess. I was just saying I was excited.”

With her face lit by the purple hue of sunset, she beamed a smile at him.

“I am too. They shouldn’t be much longer...”

A comfortable silence bloomed between them, but the longer they sat, the more Joel’s thoughts worried him. What if they weren’t ready? What if the deity didn’t accept them? What if—

A weight settled on his shoulder, and he turned to see Jess’s hand resting there. She gave a soft squeeze.

“It’s going to be okay, Joel. They’ll understand why you didn’t tell them right away.”

Firming his jaw, he nodded, trying to at least appear sure of himself.

“Not interrupting, are we?” a voice called.

Joel started, then quickly got to his feet.

“Not at all. Thanks for coming, everyone.”

Doug, Jonah, and Red, the other acolytes of his church, gave him mixed looks. Doug, the one who had spoken out, was looking rather unimpressed. Jonah waved, only making eye contact for a moment before averting his gaze once more. Red, the tallest of them by far, stretched his arms out wide with a grin.

“Thanks for inviting us! I’ve been missing the group meditations of late.”

That simple comment cut right to the heart of the issue, and Joel gave a wincing smile. He and Jess, in their courting of the ascendant being that Fischer had called Sergeant Snips, had been distancing themselves from the three acolytes.

“I’m sorry about that, Red. As I said before, it was vital that we meditate in seclusion for the last month.”

“Right,” Doug drawled, rolling his eyes. “You did say that, didn’t you?”

“Doug...” Jonah said, his voice soft. “Don’t be like that. We’re here now, aren’t we?”

“Exactly!” Red clapped them both on the shoulder. “Have a little faith in our head priest, yeah?” He walked forward without a care in the world, carving a path through the sand for the other two to follow. “So - what meditation should we do? And what’s up with the fish?”

Happy for the change of subject, intentional or not, Joel rushed to explain the tray of fish he and Jess had gathered.

“The offering before us is what we wanted to show you - what we’ve been working so diligently on. Please, sit by it, if you will.”

Doug’s jaw, which had been clenched in an obvious show of annoyance, opened.

“You’ve pushed us away for the last month to... catch fish?”

“Hmm…” Red rubbed his chin, then shrugged. “I don’t really get it, but that’s alright. Sit down with me, Doug. I’m sure we’ll get an explanation.”

The man sighed but did so, settling in the soft sand beside his friend. Jonah rushed to sit on Red’s other side, and Jess joined them, nodding at Joel. He rushed into motion, not wanting to let the awkward silence linger longer than necessary. He collected a handful of fish, making a trail down to the water. When he had one last fish in his hands, he placed it between his palms and raised it to his face. He bent his head down, whispering a prayer into the offering. When his will was suffusing the fish, he carefully placed it into the shallows. He backed away, his head bowed. He sat down beside Doug, forming a semicircle around the fish-covered tray.

“Meditate, and if we are lucky, it will show itself.”

“Show itself?” Doug asked, curiosity overcoming his argumentative demeanor.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” Jess said, shooting a wink at Doug when he turned an annoyed glance her way.

Leading the way, Joel adjusted his body into an approximation of the perfect form. His feet scuttled to the side, bracing his weight. His lips extended, preparing to blow bubbles. Both hands came up beside his head, and he clacked them together for good measure, imagining them as a crab’s powerful claws. Before he let the meditation whisk him away, he cracked an eye to check on his acolytes. All had adopted the same posture, the only variation being Doug’s grumpy face. He ignored it, closing his eyes and letting his thoughts become that of a crab.

He lost himself, making bubbling noises that helped to ground him in the meditation. When the others were comfortable and settled, they joined in, and the sounds of their meditation sparked joy within him. After a few minutes, he heard the same noises from Doug, and it seemed that all was right in the world. He hadn’t realized it, but he had truly missed their companionship and comradery over the past weeks. To find others whose beliefs aligned with your own was a rare thing, and he was beyond lucky to have so many followers. The love and appreciation for those around him helped him settle deeper in the crab meditation than ever, and though he crouched atop the sand, in his mind’s eye, he was scuttling beneath the ocean, his hard carapace easily gliding through a strong current. One step at a time, his eight magnificent legs drew ever closer toward—

“Ah!” Jonah yelped, shattering his concentration.

Joel opened his eyes as he returned to his body, its fleshy form jarring after experiencing the perfect form for what had felt like hours.

“Jonah...” Doug growled, whirling on the meek acolyte. “I was just getting into it. I—” He cut off when he saw the look on Jonah’s face. “What is it?”

“C-c-crab!” he replied, pointing forward.

They all turned toward the tray. There, lowered to the sand and feasting on the last of the fish, was a god. The first time Joel had laid eyes on the ascendant crab, her carapace had been covered in spikes, and she wore a leather eyepatch over one eye. Every time she accepted their offerings since, she was smooth shelled, yet large and mighty.

“Lower your heads!” Joel ordered, remembering himself. He lay down and pressed his forehead into the ground, as did the others.

The only noise he heard for a long moment was the chewing sound he’d grown accustomed to over the weeks gone. Suddenly, something tugged at his very being, originating right in the center of his abdomen. His head snapped up of its own accord, too shocked to care that he was before his deity. The spirit beast held the metal tray in her claw. She stared to the southwest—the same direction that Joel had felt the tug from.

Without warning, the god became a blur of motion.

Bonk, bonk, bonk.

Booom!

The sound of the metal tray striking three heads was quickly washed away by an explosion. Joel covered his face, trying to keep the spray of sand from his eyes and mouth. The three acolytes between him and Jess all sputtered, unprepared as they were for their deity’s blessing. When the air was clear, they raised their heads, each as stunned as the next.

***

Rocky blew annoyed bubbles as he scuttled over the sands at incredible speed, heading for the source of whatever that sensation had been. His spiky mistress’s master was up to something again, and it had robbed him of a wonderful moment. The cultists had both given him more food and presented more heads for him to bonk - both of which were a cause for celebration. Rather than enjoy the moment, however, Fischer had done something again, and he’d had to rush off.

Rocky hadn’t even had time to give the other two a good whack with the thin metal tray before he sent himself flying with dual explosions from his powerful claws. His mouth parts undulated in annoyance, the pleasant aftertaste of fish replaced by fury. One of these days, he was going to give Fischer a good bonk on the head if he kept on messing with Rocky’s plans. Maybe Sergeant Snips, his beloved matriarch, would punish him as a result...

That thought brought joy back into Rocky’s awareness, and as he approached the church, he imagined himself getting flung further than ever, sailing so high that the midday sun heated his carapace while the ocean rushed past beneath him.

***

“What... what just happened?” Doug asked, his eyes staring at the spot where a tray now sat in a small crater.

“You were blessed!” Jess said, kneeling down before them. “She approved of you! Just as she did with us!”

“Sh-she?” Jonah squeaked.

“That’s right,” Joel said, smiling at them. All had gone to plan. “We, the Church of Carcinization, have a deity to worship.”

“How...?” Red asked, unusually somber.

“I’ll explain it all in good time. Why don’t we meditate on the encounter, and then we can discuss it over dinner?”

Everyone nodded except for Doug. The man stared down at his hands, then up at Joel, his lip quivering. He blinked rapidly as his eyes welled. A single tear ran down his cheek.

“I... I’m sorry, Joel. I...” he trailed off, his chest heaving with sobs. “I’m sorry for doubting you.”

Joel shuffled over and pulled him into a hug.

“You have nothing to apologize for, acolyte Doug. I’m the one that’s sorry for not telling you sooner.”

Doug nodded into his shoulder, and when the tears had subsided, Joel let go.

“Let’s meditate on it, shall we?”

There was a fire in Doug’s red-rimmed eyes. He gave a sharp nod.