Heretical Fishing

Book 2: Chapter 34: Abduction

The sun high above cast a broad shadow as the pelican circled the sky around my patented fish-on-a-pole technology. It flew around a few more times, then swooped down, landing on the sand gracefully for such an enormous bird.

The pelican looked up at the fish, then back down at me. Its head turned to the side, its inhuman eye weighing me. I slowly lowered the pole, shuffling it backward until I could grab the fish and throw it toward the bird.

I held the fish in one hand as I reached down with the other to grab the cooked fish from the campfire’s edge, then threw the raw fish to the bird.

With a snap of its beak, the fish disappeared into the pelican’s pouch, and its neck bobbed up and down, the fish vanishing down its gullet. I licked my lips and held my breath as I grabbed the cooked fish from the fire, then held it up in offering. The pelican watched it intently, and with an underhand throw, I threw it to the bird.

It didn’t catch it.

The fish landed with a soft thud on the sand as the pelican flapped its wings and waddled to the side. It stepped in close after the sand had settled, peering down at the cooked fish. It poked the flesh with its spiked beak, but when the meat parted, it lost all interest and returned its attention to me.

“It’s fish!” I gestured down at the abandoned meal. “You like fish!”

It glanced around at everyone, and seeing no more snacks forthcoming, the pelican turned and took flight.

I let out a sigh.

Maria laid a hand on my shoulder.

“What is it you said to me once? There’s always more fish in the sea?”

“Or birds in the sky,” Danny offered, entirely unhelpfully.

“But I don’t want just any old bird—I wanna be pals with that one!” I yelled, intentionally petulant.

Maria petted me, nodding her understanding.

“You’ll just have to keep birding, dear.”

***

High above the waves, a pelican soared on unseen currents of air.

After spending the morning hunting for food, he had been on the way back to his roost when a silver gleam caught his attention—the unmistakable flash of fish scales. Naturally, the pelican had gone to investigate. He now had a belly full of fish and was on an express path to a well-deserved nap. The weird, two-legged creature was as clumsy as ever, and it had fumbled another delicious meal the pelican’s way. It had dropped something else, too, but after investigating, the pelican deemed it inedible. It had smelled good, but lacked even the smallest of reflective scales, which was just unacceptable.

As he caught sight of his nest on the cliff-side overhang he’d called home for as long as he could remember, bile rose in his gullet.

Someone had invaded his home.

He beat his wings, climbing higher into the air to get a better view. Two birds sat among his carefully curated twigs, their brown feathers an anathematic stain on the illustrious nest. They were similar to his wondrous form; both birds had long beaks with large pouches that could expand to scoop up fish. As with their feathers, though, the pouches were a dirty shade of brown.

The closer he got to the two pelicans rearranging his nest, the more incensed he became. By the time he landed beside them, rational thought had been replaced by the immutable desire to evict them and reclaim his territory. He let out a mighty grunt and clacked his bill together, asserting his dominance.

If an outside observer had been present, they would have seen an awkward and gangly battle. Overlarge bills lashed out, webbed feet scrambled for purchase, and feathers flew. After only a short exchange of ineffective blows, the white and black pelican withdrew, overwhelmed by its two adversaries.

If a bird could feel shame, the oceanic pelican certainly did. He retreated back toward the north, intent on finding a place to lick his proverbial wounds.

***

“What are you guys up to for the rest of the day?” I asked, savoring the flavor of the fish we’d just eaten.

“We’ve got some business to attend to, unfortunately,” Ellis replied, similarly lounging.

Theo let out a sigh.

“I wish we could spend the day fishing, but Ellis is right.”

“No worries,” I said, then turned to Maria. “You too?”

“Unfortunately. I got the morning off, but if I’m gone this afternoon too, dad might have an apoplectic fit.”

“The last thing I want to do is set your dad off—I feel like he’s finally coming around to me.”

She laughed.

“That’s one way of putting it, but I think each time you buy us all breakfast is two steps back.”

“Ah,” Theo said. “In-law troubles—a universal constant.”

I sent a smirk Maria’s way, but she gazed down at the sand, a furious blush rising to her cheeks. I wondered at the response. She had taken every previous insinuation of us being in a relationship in stride, often joking along.

Theo noticed her reaction and immediately turned a meaning-laden grin my way. I glared at him, but it only made his grin intensify.

Peter, the ever-empathetic chef, took pity on me—or perhaps her.

“What will you get up to for the rest of the day, Fischer?”

I smiled at him, pointedly not looking at Maria.

“I have a few projects going on that I’ve been neglecting, so I might take a trip to the smithy and have a little wander afterward.”

“All right,” Theo said, getting to his feet and brushing sand from his pants. “Shall we, gentlemen?”

We said our goodbyes, and as the fishing club strode away, I turned to Maria.

“Are you okay?”

Her hands were intertwined in front of her, and she nodded.

“I’m fine, just have a lot of work to do, is all. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah... see ya later.”

She chewed her lip for a moment, then darted forward and gave me a light kiss on the cheek. She barely made contact, then turned and walked away, her posture rigid.

I stared after her, wondering at the shift in demeanor.

***

As I pottered around beneath the early afternoon sun, my overactive mind was left pleasantly occupied by the sun’s warmth, the cool breeze, and the feeling of sand beneath my bare feet.

I lost myself further as I walked between rows of sugarcane. My vision was engulfed by their swaying leaves and the soft rustle they made when sliding against one another. By the time I reached the smithy, there was a pleasant smile stretched across my face.

“G’day, fellas,” I said, stepping inside

Fergus had his goggles on and was removing a bar of red-hot metal from the forge. Duncan was bending a thin piece of iron at the back of the workshop by hitting it with a hammer. At my words, both men’s head’s shot to me, and a silence sprang into being, then stretched out uncomfortably..

“You guys alright?” I asked, letting out a small laugh. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost...”

“Sorry, Fischer,” Fergus replied, lifting his metal and taking it over to the anvil. “I was in the zone and you surprised me.”

“Aye,” Duncan said. “Same.”

Fergus lifted a small hammer and started striking the still-red metal, focusing on its square angles to smooth it out.

I waited for him to finish, and after a couple minutes of the hammer falling, he placed the bar back into the forge. He smiled at me as he removed his goggles and gloves, coming over to meet me at his bench.

“What can I do for you?”

“Remember those cages we made a few weeks back? I created six of them.”

He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Aye, I remember. Is there something wrong with them? We can always patch—”

I held up both hands, cutting him off.

“Nah, mate. They’re perfect. I want more.”

“More, huh...?” He rubbed his bearded chin. “We’re running a bit low on bars, so you might need to wait for the merchant’s visit—it’s only a few days out.”

“That’s all good, my man! I don’t want to leave you without the materials for your regular jobs, but I’m happy to pay, as always.”

“Well, how many do you want to make?”

I gave him a wide grin.

“All of them.”

His eyes narrowed.

“Define what you mean by all of them...”

“Just that,” I replied, laughing. “I want to make as many as you have the metal to facilitate.”

He shook his head at me with a small smile.

“I’m not sure Marcus will stock enough mesh for all of them. I’m sure he’d be happy to make a custom order if you pay upfront, but that would mean you’d need to wait another month for their delivery.”

“That’s all good, my man! I’d love to make them as soon as possible, but there’s no rush if the materials can’t be sourced.”

He nodded as he strode back to the forge, putting his gloves and goggles back on before the bar now that it was glowing red once again.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Hmm. There was something else I wanted to make, but if you’re low on materials, it might need to wait until after the merchant’s visit.”

“Oh? What did you want to create?” he asked, striding back toward his anvil.

“A bloody big barbecue plate, mate.”

“... a what?”

“I’ll tell you all about it when you have the materials.” I grinned and waved goodbye. “See ya later, fellas!”

“Oh. Right. Bye, then...” Fergus said.

“Bye, Fischer!” Duncan yelled from the back of the workshop, giving me an exuberant wave with one hand.

***

I shook my head as I stepped beneath the shade of the forest canopy.

“Everyone's a little off today...” I mused, thinking back on both the smiths and Maria.

I breathed a slow sigh, then inhaled the cool, earth-scented air always present between the trees.

“Ah well. Nothing to be done about it, I suppose.”

The further I strode from the sand flats, the more distant my worries grew, and before I knew it, the sound of constant buzzing came rolling out between the trees’ sturdy trunks. I smiled and picked up the pace. When I caught sight of the beehive, both my eyebrows tried to leave my face.

“Wow, you lot are some busy bees today, huh?”

I smirked at myself, watching the stream of bees leaving and returning to the tree they called home. The industrious little insects were always active, but never this much; a veritable cloud of the honey bees milled around the hive’s entrance, waiting for their turn to enter the tiny opening.

I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointment when I looked down at the hive I’d made. Not a single bee came or went from its entrance; the colony had yet to expand into it.

Carefully stepping around the back of the tree, I made my way to the unoccupied hive and, with the speed of an iceberg, lifted its lid. As I had expected, there was no sign of life within, so I replaced the lid, not wanting to get my scent anywhere on the internal components.

Just as I let go of the wooden lid, I heard a buzzing that stuck out from the symphony of noise the honey bees were making. I cocked my head to the side, just in time for something small, yellow, and black, and furious to fly directly at my head.

***

The bumblebee’s stomachs were full and his legs were absolutely covered in pollen as he made his way home.

His hive was well and truly under construction—he had even produced the first few drops of his mate-attracting royal jelly. He happily bobbed along within the stream of common honey bees, but that all changed when he caught sight of his home.

A giant stood behind it, and was actively breaking in. His royal jelly had attracted someone, all right, but it wasn’t a mate—it was a predator. The bumblebee saw red and his wingbeats increased in frequency.

He charged, willing to risk it all for his hive.

***

I leaned back from the angry bee, one hand darting up of its own accord. I caught it between my thumb and index finger, narrowing my eyes as I peered down to inspect the clearly irate insect. It was too large to be a regular bee. Its mandibles opened and closed as it turned its head every which way, trying to get a hold of my fingers. It vibrated within my grasp, still making the low buzzing sound that had alerted me to its presence.

“Angry little dude, huh?”

I thought for a moment that it might be a soldier of the regular bees, but it was too large and different to be the same species. I realized it hadn’t stung me, so I looked at its abdomen. It was trying to grip me with its legs and barbed feet, but was lacking the requisite stinger to inject me with venom.

“What even are you? A bumblebee?”

The only response was more buzzing and attempts to bite me, so I decided it was time to let go. I softly pitched it away, hoping it would continue flying in that direction now that it was released.

The bumblebee had different ideas.

It turned on a dime and flew straight for my head again, and I ducked out of the way, letting it soar above.

I spun to watch it. The bumblebee spun too, but it didn’t have curiosity in its heart; it had only fury. I ducked again, avoiding the tenacious little thing. Ensuring I didn’t hurt it, I ran away, giggling the entire time. The bumblebee trailed, emitting the same low drone as I escaped its pursuit.

***

The pelican soared down to a familiar headland, gliding on the wind to preserve its strength.

It may have possessed the brain of a bird, but it still dreamed of justice. After resting, it could attempt to win possession of its nest once more—no, it had to reclaim its nest.

It angled low over the waves, and with a few flaps of its broad wings, the pelican landed atop the headland’s raised rocks. It lowered itself and got comfortable—well, as comfortable as it could be without being in a carefully crafted nest of twigs and grasses.

Just as the pelican closed its eyes, something hard grabbed it by the neck.

The pelican tried to escape, tried to claw and bite its attacker, but it was pinned tight. It attempted to grunt and screech, to make a fuss loud enough to scare off its ambusher, but all that came out was a strained growl.

Its attacker, strong as a rock and immutable as the passage of time, dragged it away.