Book 3: Chapter 25: Revenge

Book 3: Chapter 25: Revenge

Now that Roger and Sharon had joined our heretical endeavors, the rest of the week sped by in a blur.

Each morning, I’d wake to a knock on the door, then receive a barrage of love from Maria while Roger scowled and Sharon smiled. After having breakfast on my porch, we’d all head down to the rockwall and start fishing.

With the tastes of coffee and croissant lingering on my tongue, I stepped onto the stone walkway and smiled out at the world. It was the seventh day since we’d started targeting the seasonal fish, and the weather was as wonderful as the rest of the week, the first rays of sunlight casting a warm glow over the ocean. The wind was stronger than usual, incessantly blowing from the west. A strong gust kicked up, making goosebumps rise on my skin.

Feeling the same sensation, Maria wrapped her arm around my waist and pulled me into a hug, hiding behind my back until the squall subsided.

“Why is it so windy?” she asked. “There isn’t a cloud in the sky.”

“Smells like rain,” Roger said, staring at the horizon.

“Maria,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“What the frack is he talking about?”

“Maybe it’s a farmer thing?” she suggested, our voices slowly rising.

“Well, yeah, but you’re a farmer too. Do you smell rain?”

“Hmmm.” She tapped her chin. “Nope. Perhaps it’s an old farmer thing?”

“He is pretty old, isn’t he? Practically ancien—ow!” I rubbed my lower back where a rod had struck. We’d been taunting Roger, so I’d kept him in my peripheral vision. What I hadn’t anticipated was Sharon taking a swing.

She glared at me. “Before you finish that sentence, Fischer, you should remember that I’m around the same age as my husband.”

“You are? I could have sworn you were Maria’s older sister. You don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Oooo,” Maria cooed, adopting an announcer’s voice. “Flattery. Will it be enough to win her back?”

Sharon lowered her eyebrows and pursed her lips, considering me. “A good start,” she eventually said, smirking past me as she looked at the distant horizon.

“Wonderful. I’ll endeavor not to further antagon—oof!” I cut off as something slammed into my back, sending me flying. I soared over the rocks and into the ocean, crashing down into the cold waters. Adrenaline ran through me, banishing any remnant of sleep that remained.

When I returned to the surface, Maria and Sharon were laughing so hard that they’d hunched over, bracing themselves on the stone path. Seeing the hint of a smile on Roger’s face as he pretended to inspect his fingernails, I understood the truth. Sharon hadn’t been smirking at the horizon; she’d been watching Roger line me up. Now that he’d had his breakthrough, he could manipulate his chi enough to fool me—I hadn’t felt his approach at all.

Treading water, I couldn’t help but laugh. “All right, fair play.”

When I got back to the rocks, Maria helped me up, pulling me from the freezing ocean.

“Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go get some dry clothes before I turn into a popsicle.”

“A what...?” Sharon asked.

“Don’t,” Maria said. “It’s a trap.”

I shot a wink back her way. “Maybe I can make some for you if we can work out refrigeration. They’d be a blessing come summer.”

Without another word, I returned home and got out of my now-drenched clothing. I briefly considered having a shower to get warm, but decided against it, wanting to fish as soon as possible. By the time I returned to the rockwall, their lines were already in the water. I rushed to catch up, and with a bit of eel on the end of my hook, I cast it out into the bay.

“Holy frack!” Maria yelled, bouncing on her heels. “It’s huge!”

Roger barely registered how cold it was as he stepped onto a rock below the water’s surface. He leaned down and picked the fish up by the body. It kicked its tail feebly, having already used every bit of strength it had. The thing was taller than he was and wider than his chest, with vicious teeth and a body like an arrow.

With his eyes wide, Roger’s vision was drawn into it.

Mature Bluefathom Mackerel

Rare

Found in the deep waters of the Kallis Realm, this fish is prized for both sport and the quality of its flesh. Rarely seen, some say that consuming this creature provides a temporary boost to luck.

Roger swallowed, his eyes clearing as he looked back up toward the rockwall. He hadn’t realized that everyone was watching him, not a single line remaining in the water. He took the dozens of cultivators in, still not able to completely grasp the creature he held.

“Damn, Roger,” Fischer said, shaking his head to clear his vision. “Imbued with luck? That’s something...”

Roger swallowed again, his mouth feeling dry. “Is... is it okay if I let it go?”

Fischer’s head rocked backwards. “What?”

Roger clenched his jaw, ready to tear into the man if he demanded he kill such a noble creature, but then Fischer continued.

“Of course it is, you silly goose. You caught it, you decide what to do with it. Here, let me help you.” Fischer jumped down beside Roger. “Put it back underwater. We need to get oxygen running through its gills. Here. Like this...”

With one of them on either side of it, they pushed and pulled it through the small waves, apparently allowing it to breathe. Life slowly returned to it over the following minutes, and not a single word was uttered, everyone lost in its majesty. Without warning, it started kicking, some of its strength returning.

Fischer jumped out of the water. “Looks good, mate! Let it go!”

Roger bent down, running his hand along its muscular body. “You fought well, friend.” He pushed it off, and the moment it was free of his grasp, it sailed away, disappearing from sight after only a few kicks of its mighty tail. All he could do was watch, feeling an immense amount of respect for his adversary.

Muttered conversations sprung up from the attending cultivators, all beginning to discuss what they’d just witnessed.

“So, Roger,” Fischer said. “Do they have any sayings about revenge where you’re from...?”

“Revenge...?” Roger shook his head, still unable to tear his eyes from the ocean. “I’ve never heard of any, no.”

“Really? Weird. Back on Earth, they say it’s a dish best served cold.”

“What foolishness are you even saying?” Roger asked, his gaze melding with the churning waves.

“Fischer,” Maria warned. “Don’t you dare—”

Hearing urgency in his daughter’s voice, Roger spun.

Well, he’d intended to spin.

Before he could, a foot lashed out and kicked his backside, sending him sprawling into the freezing-cold waves.