by J M Hamm
I looked up at Catayla and then back down towards Tiller.
“Anyone else have a better plan?”
“How long can you hold out for?” asked Tiller.
“Maybe a minute,” I said. “Probably less.”
“And Catayla,” Tiller said. “How much time is left on those bombs?”
“Fifty-six… fifty-five seconds and counting. Do it now, Finn!” she yelled.
We were immediately surrounded by a darkness that was all-encompassing. I had closed the top of the boat, leaving us entombed and unable to react to the danger beyond the thin walls I had created. Without the added strain of forming weapons or holding together the dome, reforming boat had seemed effortless.
The effort grew, however, as thick limbs began to pound, falling in a steady rhythm. I grunted as I fell to my knees, beads of sweat running into my eyes.
The constant barrage of strikes vibrated the craft with deafening, thunder-like cracks. It was like being swung inside a bell, my bones shook, and I felt a sharp, piercing pain as my other eardrum burst. The attack persisted for several seconds, before seeming to relent.
The reprieve lasted no more than a second, and soon I could feel us being lifted out of the water. Stress fractures began forming, as something heavy and powerful began to squeeze my quickly fading construct.
I copied my previous trick, creating long, needle-thin spikes around the hull. The tentacles pulled away, but they didn’t drop us immediately. My stomach fell as I felt myself moving upwards.
A rising feeling of vertigo and nausea filled me as we hung weightless for a moment of fleeting stillness, before plunging downward. As we struck the water, the shell I had created around the boat nearly split in two, but I roared in defiance as I struggled to hold the energy together. The stars had become visible through a latticework of widening cracks. Water was beginning to rise over my feet.
I released the form of the boat, concentrating on the much simpler form of a flat plane — like a small raft woven of dark and corrupting energy. The empty sky hung above me and dark waters swam beneath, nothing but air and shadow between myself and death. I finally freed the silver chain, and it spun around my fragile raft, striking out like a whip at a descending tentacle.
“I’m spent,” I moaned. “Hold them off as long as you can.”
“How much longer?” asked Bridgette. “Can we hold off long enough for the bombs to work?”
“Thirty more seconds,” Catayla said.
She seemed calm, almost emotionless. I normally would have envied her, but I was too exhausted to feel anything. My fear had long since evaporated into a quiet acceptance.
“Might as well be a lifetime,” said Worthy. “I don’t think we can last another second.”
“Just fire at anything that moves,” Bridgette yelled. “We have to make it through this. I’m not going out as fish food.”
I lay panting while they fought. They battled for what seemed like hours but was actually seconds. They shot and hacked, driving back anything that reached our raft. It seemed a valiant last stand, but I knew how those usually ended.
The silver chain spun around us like razor wire, but it was quickly entangled as it wrapped around a group of three tentacles. There seemed to be an unending number, each limb quickly being replaced faster than they could be cut down.
“Ten more seconds,” Catayla yelled out.
The three tentacles entangled with the silver chain tore open like a hand extending its fingers upwards. Silver links rained down on the water, even as I lost the strength to hold my staff. The curved scythe blade faded, as the weapon slipped into the water.
“Five seconds!” Catayla warned.
I counted down, feeling as if I was ticking off the final moments of my life. As I reached zero, a shadow fell over me. I could feel the air move as something large descended, seeming to grow heavier and faster the closer it came.
“Now,” yelled Catayla. “Abandon ship!”
I was once more tossed into the air. I lost consciousness after I felt something wrap around my ankle. I saw bubbles fall towards the light as I was pulled into the darkness. I was cold and my chest burned and then … nothing.
Chapter Twenty-eight: Dreamscape
I hung weightlessly in a void of black that was divided by thin streams of interconnected light. The silver light spread over the darkness like thread spread over a loom, spinning as they separated into finer and finer strands. Ultimately, each ended in bright points like stars swimming in a galaxy submerged in moonlit water.
Specks of glowing dust clung to me like grainy smoke, leaving luminous trails that followed me in tight orbits. I stuck my arm through one of these glittering streams, it felt cold and silky as the particles ran through my outstretched fingers.
Far beneath me, half hidden in light and fog, was an island swimming through the nothingness. Snaking rivers weaved through emerald forests before tumbling over rocky cliffs — boundless waterfalls dispersing into mist as they flowed into the void. At the center of this island sat a marble palace adorned with gold and topped by ivory towers domed in brass and silver.
It was beautiful, and something about it struck me as familiar. I had seen it before, been here before. Perhaps in a dream …
A scene from a fantasy long since forgotten, buried somewhere in my subconscious. It pulled at me. I felt that I had almost remembered, but it slipped from my mind and I was left feeling confused, as stared at the strange scene in front of me.
Six granite pillars created a circle around me. They curved inward to join at the top, creating a circular roof with a wide, oval opening in its center. Carvings of leaves and vines adorned the pillars, wrapping around them until blooming into intricate stone flowers that wreathed the open dome.
Opposite me, sat a chair atop a long red rug that was supported by nothing but the void. The throne was made of dark, cherry-colored wood with an arched back. It was padded with a quilted cushion made of deep crimson leather. Sitting in that chair was a man shrouded in shadows. Only his eyes were visible, a deep blue almost glowing with reflected light.
“Hello, Gus.”
The voice was deep and inviting. Its familiarity was comforting and immediately put me at ease. I recognized it instantly, but that was impossible …
“Dad?” I asked. “How are you here? Where am I?”
I stood unspeaking for a moment, taking a step forward. My confusion quickly slipped away as he leaned forward, revealing his face in the pale light. The lines and shape were familiar, but they were not his. He smirked, contorting his face in an expression my father had never made.
“Oh, Gus, haven’t we had this dance before?”
He quietly stood and crossed half the distance between us with a single step, his face morphing and becoming longer and more youthful. The face was not unlike my own.
“I know this place …” I said. "I know you, Fisher."
“Call me what you will,” the creature spoke, “Here, names have power. Call upon the right ones ... or the wrong, and you shall see wonders beyond your ken. Odin hung upon these stars for seven days, what names did he learn? What might you still call?"
The Fisher's form changed once more, he grew taller and a long, grey beard appeared on his chin. His back bent, as if something heavy pressed done on him, and he clung to a black spear as if it were a walking stick. His right eye withdrew into a ruined socket.
"This place is made of thought and whim," The Fisher continued, his voice growing deep and gruff. "Reality, but for the solidifying power of your thought. Consciousness refined in madness. A brittle chrysalis for what may come. It is your mind, or a portion of it. Oh, but should I call it ours?”
The creature’s laugh was thin and wheezing, ending in a fit of coughs. Its eyes never left my own.
“And yet,” it said. “This place is more. So much it sings to be. To become. A Dreamscape, a place connected to the multitude. Layers of light and dark, each speck a weary eye closed in quiet wonder. Th
e dreamers stir and when they wake what better place to be? For only dreamers see that which dreams can be.”
I stood there for a moment as the creature collapsed back into its chair, seemingly exhausted. As it leaned back, it beckoned with one hand.
“Please, sit,” it said.
A duplicate of the chair the creature sat in appeared next to me, but I pushed it aside as I glared down at the reclining creature.
“Why have you brought me here?”
“Brought? No. I’ve sheltered you. You swim through darkness, bait caught and tangled on the line. You must cast free, take back the sky else…”
“Else what…” I said, growing impatient at its long pauses.
“Else you don’t,” it said with an exaggerated shrug. “And drown, bait lost to bigger fish. And I, swallowed back not to die, but lost in thought and forgotten to memory.”
I sat watching. The Fisher had a strange way of speaking, but it was clear its words were a cryptic warning. What had I been doing before? My memory was hazy.
“What does all this mean?” I asked. “I’m tired of puzzles and vague prophecy.”
“Prophecy?” it said with a gentle laugh. “Is it prophecy to call the snared hare caught? No, but let me show you…”
The creature stood, casting its chair into the void where it disintegrated into silver dust that joined the swirling lights. As the creature stood it grew to enormous heights and spread its arms wide.
“This is just theatrics,” I yelled. “Show me what you want me to see or send me back.”
“Your friends are cast in dark waters beset by dangers,” the creature said, its voice echoing like thunder. “And you must aid yourself if you wish to free them from this peril. Hel seeks them, already drawing them into her embrace.”
Between its massive, outstretched hands, a rounded plane of silver light began to form. The disk quickly grew darker, glowing lines swirling on its surface, until an image formed.
I peered into the images and I saw myself. I was being pulled through water, everything moving as if time had slowed.
The image was dark, but the filtered moonlight was enough to barely make out the dense cord of flesh that was wrapped around my ankle and its way up my calf and thigh. My boot was missing, leaving only the thin jumpsuit as a barrier between my skin and the dark tumorous flesh of the tentacle that bound me.
My face could not be seen, instead, I wore a mask of eyes hiding in grey folded flesh and twisting limbs. It pulsed with a study rhythm, like bellows fanning a fire.
“What is this,” I said. “What have you done to me?”
The giant form of the Fisher stood over me, crossing its arms as I shouted uselessly. It regarded me coldly, its eyes narrowing as if unsure of what they were seeing.
“The bait is taken,” the creature finally answered. “But the catch has leaped the net. If you wish to break free you must become more than bait. Stop resisting what you are. They thought the mantle gone, but it is merely hidden. Answer the darkness that calls out to you. Embrace the madness in your soul.”
“How —”
“We are one, the Finn and the Fisher. Never lonely, for we are always by Ourself. What is such a mind if not mad? Do not call it a weakness. Embrace the strength it gives us! We … You. And I.”
“I’ve already let you out,” I screamed. “I won’t give you control of my mind as well.”
“That ... creature, is not me. A remnant, scattered and plucked from the greater whole. It serves you, but at a price. Three words were to be spoken, we have bargained.”
“You can’t take control of me that easily,” I said. “I’ll say your words, but I never promised you action.”
“Listen. Speak then, know that you cannot lie to yourself. Not here in depths of your own soul. Speak, and know the truth.”
As it spoke the words, I found my mouth repeating them. Three words … three syllables repeated over and over. The sounds were not dangerous, it was the idea that they represented. The idea I knew was true. We spoke together, with one voice.
Only the void and Ourself were there to hear me.
***
My eyes opened but my mind was incapable of comprehending. I had not been prepared to see in all directions at the same time and the sensory overload caused me to cry out as I slammed closed my eyes. Dozens of them.
I reached out and touched my face.
The skin was thick, almost rubbery. Long limbs protruded in random directions, and as I touched one, I realized how incredibly sensitive it was. I could feel the slightest change in texture, it was enough that I could visualize my fingerprints just from running my hand over the cool flesh.
I could feel even vibrations in the water, and despite my eyes being closed I began to “see” a massive form retreating into the distance. This sight gave little detail, just a hazy outline of a misshapen sphere that was churning the waters it swam through. I could feel the water as it was drawn into the creature and then expelled in a steady beat.
It looked like a massive beating heart.
Thick tentacles protruded from the mass of flesh, each pulsing and contracting in time with the heartbeat of the creature. One of the narrower arteries reached up through the water and ended as it wrapped around my leg.
As I reached out towards the tentacle, the flesh of the Fisher instinctively reached out as well — cold, grey flesh twining around the black tentacle that bound me. I worked to pull the flesh free, to unwind it from myself — instead it just grew tighter. It dug into my leg, and I screamed out, but my voice was muffled by grey flesh that wrapped around my throat and head.
I reached out for my staff and chain, but they were gone. Lost somewhere far below.
Instead, I reached down with my open hands, this time gripping the slimy flesh further up. The Fisher joined me, using its many limbs to pull with me. I conjured a bit of eldritch energy to create a long cable covered in jagged spikes, much like the teeth of a chainsaw. I wrapped the cable around the tentacle and pulled, twisted and sawing into flesh.
The teeth gradually bit deeper. Blood like misty black ink spilled into the water. Finally, I felt the cable loosen in my grip as if finally cut through the final strands of flesh. A skull jarring screech shook my head, loud enough that I could feel it like a shockwave passing through the water.
The Fisher, still tightly wrapped around my head, protected me from the worst of it but I could still feel my teeth and skull rattle.
The noise should have deafened me, but instead, it added detail to my new sonar-like sight. Everything became crisp, like static slowly fading into a black and white image.
I could see several more tentacles shooting through the water fast enough to leave foam and bubbles trailing in their wake. I couldn’t maneuver fast enough to outrun or dodge them. The only thing I could do was fight. Just once, I wanted a problem where violence wasn’t the answer.
I reached out for the eldritch energy that flowed around me, but it was much thinner than it had been on the surface. Too thin to create a dome or capsule around myself as I had on the surface.
Instead, I created several harpoons and sent them in the direction of the tentacles. My hope was that if I impaled them it might buy me some time. As soon as the first volley was finished, I created another before kicking towards the surface.
The Fisher reacted to my need, and it used the tentacles that now grew from my head to help propel me through the water. I shuddered at the thought of what I must look like, but I couldn’t argue with the effectiveness.
How deep am I? I thought.
I raced upward through the darkness, chasing after fading moonlight and a few rising bubbles. It seemed like minutes before the water finally began to lighten and I saw the moon shimmering above me.
I felt cold air hit my “face.” It was refreshing to feel fresh air upon my flesh, even if it wasn’t technically mine. This level of fusion with the Fisher was … unsettling.
The night air brought with it a thousand new
scents too intense to process. Each was both familiar and unplaceable at the same time. The rolling waves, seen from many eyes, seemed to flow together in a kaleidoscope of shifting shapes. I lost track of my own position, forcing my eyes — all of them — to shut.
I reached out with my new senses, hoping to find some trace of my companions — the eldritch boat I had created would not have survived for long and I had left them stranded halfway across the river. I wasn’t sure how long they could hold out if more of those fish had come, let alone against more of those tentacles.
Before I could move, however, a dark presence spoke to me from the back of my mind. It was not words, but a pulling of my focus. It was like an instinct, a desire and a reflex that couldn’t be ignored. I could sense injured prey, and a powerful urge to tear into its flesh overwhelmed me.
I should leave, there was nothing keeping me here. Nothing pursued me, and my friends needed my help.
I fought the rage, trying to rationalize it away but it could not be ignored. I found myself speaking those same three words, the words whispered in a dream. I gave in to the instincts of my darker half, repeating three words as I sank into the darkness.
“We are one.”
Chapter Twenty-nine: Descent
My primal instincts took over, restoring a clarity to my thinking that I hadn’t realized had been missing. It was as if by letting that part of my mind control my actions, I was also reducing the burden placed on my more rational side, leaving my thoughts free to wander.
I no longer needed to resist my growing anger and frustration. Reflex controlled my physical actions now, and yet I was not a slavering beast left unable to think. It was disconcerting as if watching myself in a dream.
I wasn’t sure if I was in control, or the Fisher. The constant feed of the creature’s senses had begun to bleed into my own. We were separate entities, and yet we were also two parts of something more — it was yet to be seen what that something would become.
