Fell Beasts and Fair

by C. J. Brightley

Anna followed me to that magic place on the shore of the Mississippi. The melting ice was open, and a ripple of waves lapped at slush.

  I felt a sealed plastic bag from my pocket. I must have pocketed it at the Science Fair. It contained a few sprigs of mint. “She probably gets her dislike of this plant from her father. I’ll cram it down his throat.”

  Anna blinked. “Give that to me.”

  I did.

  “If you have it,” she said, “Gracie won’t come to you. I’ll hold it. She wouldn’t come to me, anyway.”

  “This is what you’ve always done, isn’t it?” I asked her as we walked down to the shore. “You kept me from saying anything by driving me away.”

  She didn’t answer.

  As the sun peeked over the treetops of the Wisconsin shore, the river became unnaturally calm.

  “Walter,” she said. There was fear in her voice. “What do we do? What if he won’t come out?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. Then, shouted, “Gracie!”

  A minute passed, with nothing to show for my hollering. The river sat eerily calm, and the man; Anna’s lover; didn’t emerge.

  “This is the place?” I asked.

  Anna nodded.

  “All right, then.”

  I shed off my coat; threw my hat and gloves to the ground. My boots I kept until the mirror water lapped at my toes. Then, I slipped out of those, too.

  Maybe if Gracie had been an easy kid, I wouldn’t have done it. If every day hadn’t been an exhausting struggle for sanity, maybe I’d have let her live with her father. As the water numbed my toes, I realized that this was the first time I had fought for her, but I had always fought for her.

  I was her father.

  The cold of just-melted river is not the cold of ice. It did not bite like ice—it penetrated. The frigid grip sank so deep, so fast that I stumbled as muscles seized.

  But I kept going.

  “I’m coming for her,” I shouted to the river. “I’m her father, and I’m taking my daughter back.”

  The slope was steep. My legs sank deep into the muck. Breath burst from my lungs as my middle went under. I stopped. Pulled in another breath. Went under.

  Time did not pass in such cold.

  A fish passed in front of me, silver and quick. A Northern. Its emerald eyes flashed. It swam around me, nipped at my face.

  Green rays streaked through the ice, giving everything a dull glow. Mud sucked at my feet as I struggled forward. My arms—sluggish and slow—propelled me forward.

  Then, he appeared out of the murky depths.

  His seaweed hair drifted around his sleek body. His eyes were piercing green, sharp, even through the blur of murky waters. The man was muscled. Strong. He was fast. Much faster than me.

  I could not speak to him, but he knew what I wanted.

  The fish swam between us, then the man and I wrestled. Our arms locked. He was strong and lean, but I had weight.

  Not that weight would do me much good underwater.

  I ceded his strength, sank low and twisted to gut-wrench him. He slipped loose, avoiding an elbow lock. We separated.

  He looked at me, his green eyes dancing across me, sizing me up. My lungs tore at my chest. I needed a home run move.

  I would get my daughter back or I would die trying.

  We closed again. His hands shot through the water almost faster than I could see, but I grabbed a wrist. He snapped with sharp teeth, but I was too quick. We parted.

  Again, we locked together. My fingers, stiff from cold, barely held as he squirmed and fought, but I had him. I twisted his arm and locked his elbow.

  Our eyes met. The green in his eyes flashed anger. Frustration. Hatred. Fear.

  Then, he stopped. He looked away.

  I let go, and the man under the water swam away, defeated.

  My vision darkened, and the cold took me. Air bubbled from my lungs.

  Slender arms wrapped around my body and clutched me tight. The last thing I remember was Anna coming to meet us in the water. They pulled me out.

  Gracie and I still fish the Mississippi. Whenever we do, the man under the water greets us. He never tries to take Gracie. He knows who her true father is.

  So do we.

  About the Author

  Anthony Eichenlaub’s short fiction has appeared in Kzine, Asymmetry Fiction, and Kobold Quarterly. He has two novels in the Metal and Men series, and he spends his time in Rochester, Minnesota, teaching writing classes and gardening. His website is anthonyeichenlaub.com.

  Afterword

  Thank you for reading! We hope noblebright fantasy has captured your imagination as it has ours.

  You can find more noblebright fantasy at Spring Song Press and at noblebright.org.

  ~ C. J. Brightley, Spring Song Press

  * * *

  P.S. - Please subscribe to the Spring Song Press newsletter!