by Dante King
I brought my hands together. With a deep breath, I opened up the channels of fire. The elemental power coalesced between my palms, becoming a ball of flames that burned with a bright, searing heat. Before I could summon the required energy to hurl it, a fishman’s expression became distant, and a wet haze started flowing from his skin. It became a Smothering Mist, but instead of billowing around him, this one focused in front of him. I sent an Untamed Torch toward him, and it hit the cloud. Both fire and water disappeared, vanishing in a cloud of steam.
The fishman charged at me and swung his hook. I dodged around it as I drew the Sundered Heart Sword. His next blow came whistling past me, and I parried it before twisting my wrist and catching the hook on my sword. We wrestled for dominance, straining as we pressed against each other’s blades, so close that I could feel his cold breath on my skin. Caught in a deadlock, I twisted my sword around, aiming to disarm him and give me a decisive advantage, but he turned along with me, freed his hook, and swung in with a low attack that forced me back along the riverbank.
The fishman advanced in flowing, circular steps that carried him around me, like the current in a whirlpool. I anticipated his next movement and slashed, but he twisted clear, and I hit empty air. Then, his blade whipped toward my right shoulder, and I flung myself beneath the blow. I rolled across the ground into the shallows of the pool, where I came to my feet, sword raised again.
The fishman laughed, a gurgling sound like a drain being cleared. Then, he strode into the water after me. While waist-deep in the pool, his blows came harder and faster but remained in the flowing style. The water seemed to cling to his slick flesh, and I figured it was somehow making him stronger. I attempted to move the direction of our duel back toward dry land, but he maintained his rapid succession of mighty swings. I dodged his hook by an inch and whispered a sigh of relief that he hadn’t gutted me with it.
I raised my empty hand, palm outward, and called on the power of Stinging Palm. Thorns shot through the air to hit the fishman in the face, and blood sprayed from a series of ragged gashes in his cheek. The injury only seemed to impassion him further, though, and he came at me with twice the fervor.
Despite my attempts to leave the water, our struggle took us deeper into the pool. Our blades crashed and flashed against each other, droplets of water flying with each attack and counterattack. The sun gleamed down on us while, on the bank, my friends struggled against opponents of their own.
Fencing wasn’t working, so I changed my approach. As the fishman pulled his weapon back to prepare another attack, I slammed into him shoulder first. He staggered before falling, and I went with him, the two of us tumbling into the water.
I let go of my sword and reached for a knife on my belt with one hand while I grabbed the fishman by the throat with the other hand. Going into the water had thrown him off his rhythm, but it had also given him a home-ground advantage. Using his webbed hands and feet, he turned the two of us around so that I ended up on the bottom. We hit the mud at the base of the pool, with the fishman straddling me, one hand pressed against my face, the other gripping the wrist of my knife-hand.
Perhaps the memory of the elemental plane had made me overconfident, or perhaps I had just not thought the whole thing through, but now, I hit the real problem with fighting in the water. While the fishman could breathe through his gills, I was running out of breath. He squeezed my wrist and twisted, causing a spasm that shook the knife out of my hand. I was unarmed and pinned to the river bed while a roaring grew in my ears, and my lungs burned from lack of air.
If I couldn’t beat him with arms and hands, then I would have to do it with my whole body. I slammed my feet against the ground and arched my back, throwing him off me. Free once more, I rose to my feet and found myself standing waist-deep in the pool, with the fishman pulling himself upright in front of me.
I summoned a Plank Pillar beneath the water, hoping it would propel me back to dry land, but it only bubbled to the surface like a floating raft.
“You ain’t going anywhere, softskin,” he snarled as he plunged beneath the water.
I was out of weapons, and I knew fire would be ineffective, but I had other tricks up my sleeve. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, focusing on more recently learned and challenging channels—ash.
As I opened my eyes, the fishman dived out of the water like a dolphin. I gestured, and the Vigor flowed from me to form a cloud of ash that caught him in mid-air. He dropped to the water like an anvil, and I ducked beneath the surface. The clear water had become muddied by our struggle, but I could just make out my knife and sword laying in the silt. The knife was closer, so I snatched it up and emerged once more.
The fishman jumped above the pool’s surface and scrambled to wash the ash from his lungs. The ash around his head was starting to fade as particles trailed down his slimy skin and stained the water a dark gray. Before it could break down any further, I lunged forward, grabbed hold of him, and plunged the dagger into his side. He thrashed, and blood flowed out across my hand as I drove the blade deeper. With one final spasm, his life gave out, and his body went limp.
I dropped the dead weight in the shallows and dived back into the water to grab the Sundered Heart Sword. As my hand closed around its grip, I felt a sense of warm familiarity, as though it was welcoming a long lost friend.
“You’ve returned for me,” Nydarth said.
“You’re too beautiful to leave behind,” I answered as I rushed back to the battle.
“You really know how to woo a lady, don’t you?”
I strode out of the pool and saw Kegohr and Vesma each engaged with a fishman. Kegohr’s mace swung in brutal arcs while Vesma’s spear darted in and out of the space between her and her opponent. A Flame Shield blazed on her forearm, but it was fading away, quenched by the Smothering Mist billowing from the fishman. Unlike the lampreys, these fishmen had a more powerful form of the technique, so fire wasn’t capable of dispersing it. As Vesma’s shield faded to embers, she called up a one-handed Untamed Torch and flung it at her opponent, but it burst harmlessly against his shoulder, only causing a fresh cloud of steam.
At least Vesma’s weapon gave her as much reach as her enemy, who was fighting with a trident. Kegohr’s opponent was the leader with his long barbed spear, and the fishman was using that reach to keep Kegohr at arm’s length. Kegohr’s two-handed mace, combined with his long arms, gave him more range than many warriors, but not as much as his opponent’s trident. Kegohr tried to close the gap, but the fishman wheeled away with the same flowing movements my opponent had used.
I rushed to Kegohr and joined him in combat. Blood oozed from a series of wounds down his side, none of them deep enough to be fatal on its own, but, put together, a painful mess that would eventually slow him down.
“You killed yours?” he asked me as he blocked our opponent’s trident.
I slipped my sword into the fishman’s open guard, but he batted it away a second before it would have killed him.
“I thought you’d be done with yours by now,” I answered Kegohr as the fishman flowed forward and thrust his weapon. I pivoted, and the bronze prongs flashed past my ribs.
“Is that a challenge, Effin?” Flames flared across the half-ogre’s skin as he fed more Vigor into Spirit of the Wildfire. He flung his head back and roared, a noise that echoed off the cliff and shook the treetops.
When Kegohr opened his eyes, fire flashed there, too. He rushed past me and stomped toward his opponent like a living embodiment of the inferno, all flames and rage. I followed along behind, looking for a moment when I might possibly help in the presence of such strength.
The fishman quaked at the sight and backed away with his spear raised. Kegohr spun around with his mace outstretched, and he almost looked like a shot put thrower. His opponent jumped over the weapon, and Kegohr’s mace struck a tree instead of his enemy. The tree exploded in a shower of splinters, but Kegohr didn’t slow down. He continued spinning toward the fishman, and
I backpedalled so that I wouldn’t get caught in his warpath.
Vesma was still locked in battle with her opponent, and Kegohr was inching closer to them by the second. As much as I wanted to leave Kegohr his kill, he could harm my girlfriend.
I dipped into the power inside me and called on wood. A stream of energy rushed through my body and down my legs, then arced through the ground. As it reached the fishman, it emerged as a Plank Pillar directly beneath his feet. The force of the rising pillar flung him into the air and sent him flying toward Kegohr.
“Batter up!” I shouted.
Kegohr was already on the ball. His mace hit the flying fishman with all the force of a massive two-handed swing. There was a crunch and a spray of blood as the half-ogre hit a home run. The fishman flew into a tree and struck it with a loud thunk.
While Kegohr caught his breath, I rushed to Vesma’s aid.
“So, you helped Kegohr first?” she said through gritted teeth.
“He looked like he needed it more,” I answered.
“I don’t need your help!” she screamed as she thrust her spear at the final fishman.
I raised a hand and stepped backward as I watched the fight continue. I didn’t want Vesma to be hurt, but I also knew that me fighting her opponent would be a scar against her honor. This was her battle, and she seemed well-poised for victory.
The two swayed back and forth while darting around like partners in a deadly dance. Her speed and agility were more than a match for the fishman, but his unfamiliar fighting style was throwing her off. She feinted at his left shoulder and then, struck right, only to find that he had swung away and was coming at her from the right, forcing her to jump away. From the lack of visible wounds on them both, I guessed neither had landed a single hit on the other.
“Guild fuckers!” the fishman howled, and he was now clearly speaking a language I could understand. “You bastards are the scourge of the Wilds.”
He pivoted around his spear and knocked the legs out from Vesma. She fell to the ground, and the fishman raised his spear. Horror gripped my stomach, and my hand shot toward him. I released a torrent of Stinging Palm like some kind of automatic thorn-shooter. My Vigor faded to nothing as projectile after wooden projectile hammered into his body. He dropped to the ground, looking like a pincushion.
“I had him,” Vesma grimaced as she took my hand and jumped to her feet.
“Sorry,” I said with a shrug. “He definitely looked like he was about to kill you.”
My vision blurred a little as I swayed on my feet. Kegohr appeared at my side as the fire faded from his skin. He put an arm beneath me, and I felt like a toy while he supported me with his massive arm.
“You really hulked out there,” I said to him.
“Hulked out?” he asked.
I laughed a dry wheeze. “Never mind.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Kegohr said. “All this water Augmenting; this place is the pits.”
“I guess we’re all just too used to facing other fire Augmenters,” I said. “Just wait until we find the straw and paper Augmenters; they’ll be no match for us.”
“There ain’t straw Augmenters, are there?” Kegohr asked.
“I hope not.” Vesma looked down at the thorn-riddled corpse in front of her. “But then, this is my first time meeting fishmen.”
Kegohr took me to a soft patch of grass and placed me down. I concentrated for a few minutes as I centered myself and used a technique for restoring Vigor. I listened to the crashing of the waterfall and felt the heat of the sun on my skin. The sensations became like beacons connecting my consciousness to my awareness of the channels within me. Soon, I had replenished enough Vigor to move freely.
I retrieved my dagger from the floating body of the first fishman. As I walked back to shore, my friends were scouring the bandits’ corpses. Kegohr had wrapped his injuries in bandages, and Vesma seemed to have recovered from her wounded pride.
“Find anything worth keeping?” I asked.
“A few coins, but they don’t look like they’re worth much,” Vesma said. “And they’re weapons aren’t great either. I’d say these guys were desperate.”
“They must have been,” I said.
“What do you think they wanted with that woman?” Kegohr asked.
I raised an eyebrow, and realization crossed his face.
In the silence, I inspected the bronze trident. The prongs were cracked in places, so I tossed it aside. I heard a relieved whisper from Nydarth, and I couldn’t help but smile.
The fishman were even uglier now that they were dead, and I wondered what other strange humanoid creatures existed in the Seven Realms. If I achieved immortality, then I wanted to meet them all.
“Where do you think she went?” Kegohr asked as he stared over the waterfall.
“I heard those fishmen mention ‘Qihin’ and ‘Princess,’” I answered. “Xilarion said we’re meant to meet with King Beqai of the Qihin Clan. I’m thinking that woman we saved might have been his daughter.”
“What’s a princess doing in a place like this?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I can’t imagine she’d just decide to bathe here if she knew there’d be bandits around. I think they might have followed her here.”
“I thought it was only the guilds and clans who have problems.” Kegohr shook his head. “Now, the bloody Wilds are bandits.”
“Not you, though,” Vesma said with a smile. “You’re just a big half-ogre. You’d never harm anyone. Unless they have magical cores in their chest. Or they try to kill you or your friends. Then, you crush their skulls with your mace.”
Kegohr laughed, and I chuckled along.
Still, I couldn’t help feeling uneasy. If the Wilds were also at odds with the guild, then a three-pronged conflict involving Resplendent Tears, the Qihin Clan, and Wilds could be broiling on the Diamond Coast.
A movement in the trees caught my attention. I thought maybe the princess hadn’t actually swam over the waterfall but had merely made it look like she had. Perhaps she was still here, after all, and had been waiting until the coast was clear. I watched for a glimpse of curved brown flesh. Instead, two familiar figures emerged.
Both looked refreshed and amused to see us. A slender elf woman with long brown hair and emerald eyes, and an old man in a worn white robe with matching scruffy hair and a tangled beard.
“Faryn and Tolin.” I stared at them, mouth agape. “What are you two doing here?”
Chapter Four
“What sort of way is that to greet your friends, hm?” Tolin shook his head. His beard waggled comically and added to his expression of mock outrage. “We come walking all this way—well, maybe riding part of it, in waggons and boats and suchlike—just to see you, and your first response isn’t even a hello or a how-do-you-do or an offer of refreshment? Young people today, I tell you. No respect for their elders.”
I gestured toward the bodies of the fishmen. “There’s sushi here if you’re really that hungry.”
“They are fishfolk,” Faryn commented. “Not something you would sit down and eat for a meal.”
“The elf knows a thing or two about meals,” Nydarth whispered in my mind. “She’s tasted of you once or twice. What I’d give to have you to myself, sweet man.”
Tolin mercifully cut off Nydarth’s commentary on how delicious I was.
“You making a habit of killing anyone you come across?” he asked me. He didn’t seem upset; instead, his tone carried a hint of pride.
“They were attacking a princess, apparently. Thought it best to step in.”
“The only princess in the province is King Beqai’s daughter. Xilarion said the king spoke very highly of her.” Faryn’s eyes widened. “What was she doing here?”
I shrugged. “Taking a bath, from the looks of it. She was completely naked when these bandits tried to get her.”
“You saved her?” The beautiful elf woman beamed at me.
“We all helped prevent the bandits from taki
ng her,” Vesma said as she squared her shoulders.
“Where is she now?” Faryn asked. “Better clothed, I hope.”
“She swam over the waterfall,” I explained. “She seemed like she intended to do it, so I figure she survived.”
“She’ll be fine,” Tolin said as he followed my gaze to the waterfall. “All these fishfolk are better off in the water than on dry land. Now, who are these other young people with you? Have they no manners?”
“They’re just shy. Tolin, this is Vesma and Kegohr. They were initiates at the Radiant Dragon Guild with me. We graduated to the rank of outer disciples together. Vesma, Kegohr, this is Tolin lo Pashat. He was the first one to train me when I got here.” I lowered my voice. “He’s a cranky old hermit with a rundown temple.”
“A cranky old hermit who is the head of your clan,” Tolin reminded me.
“That too.”
“We are honored, Lord Pashat,” Vesma said with a bow. Kegohr imitated the gesture with a little less grace and fluidity.
“I wouldn’t be too impressed,” I said. “Until he adopted me, Tolin was the only member left in the clan.”
“All the more honorable, I’d say.” Kegohr clapped a hand to his chest. “Keeping a clan alive is a bloody good deed.”
“I like your friends,” Tolin said. “You could learn a thing or two from them.”
“Months of obeying your orders and fixing up your house wasn’t enough respect?”
“Not if it didn’t stick.”
I smiled. “It’s good to see you, old man.”
“I’m sure it is,” Tolin replied.
There was a mewling sound as a black cat poked its head up out of Tolin’s bag.
“You really are honored,” I said to Vesma and Kegohr. “This is Master Softpaw, the true ruler of the Unwashed Temple.”
Master Softpaw batted at Tolin’s ear and meowed more loudly.
“Yes, yes, you can have a walk around,” Tolin said. His joints creaked as he bent over, laid the bag on the ground, and let the cat out. Softpaw turned his back on all of us, prowled over to the nearest body, and sniffed at the blood.
