Of Trails and Snails | Ch. 21: We Could Be Heroes (Patreon)

Jack collapsed on his back and let the sun’s warmth sink inside his leathers. Nearby, Mia twisted her sopping wet hair until a stream of water puddled in the dirt at her foot. Skye had unsheathed her greatsword, mopping it clean with a rag from her pack, murmuring creative strings of curses under her breath. And Niamh, her blue dress speckled with fish blood and her bo staff tucked under her arm, peered over the three of them, watching with furrowed eyebrows and her stony stare.

“Well? Have I passed your trial?” Niamh asked.

Rolling his head to the side, Jack favored her as he caught his breath. He had never been so happy to feel dirt against his cheek. “What?”

“Your trial. Calling upon the catfish for battle. Putting yourselves in a dire situation for me to rescue,” Niamh continued. “I did not expect something so extreme, but I found your efforts worthy.”

Mia’s hands froze around her hair, and Skye’s rag hovered over her sword.

“You think we set that up?” Skye said.

“I do not see another reasonable explanation for the eels to have appeared one month early. Nor for the catfish to be in such a frenzy. Both would require provocation.” Niamh sheathed her bo staff and folded her arms over her chest. “Is denying your involvement another challenge?”

Jack closed his eyes and laughed. There were so many things he wanted to say. So many ways to debunk her. But all he could do was laugh.

“You find this funny, two-legs?” One of Niamh’s brows arched. “Did my performance not impress you?”

Jack laughed harder. Something about the sincerity in Niamh’s voice. She was so certain.

“How the fuck would we have attracted an entire school of catfish?” Skye snapped.

“A deal struck with the beavers on the connecting river would remove the dam barring the catfish,” Niamh replied. “Then baiting the eels would have led them to frenzy, catching the attention of the catfish.”

Skye stared at Niamh with almost as much incredulity as she had after she’d been caught tied up. Almost. “And you think we could have set this up all in one night?”

“I have heard two-legs are very fast.”

“Not that fast,” Jack said, pushing himself up to sit.

“Niamh, we didn’t attract them,” Mia said, gripping the tips of her hair until the last droplets tore away. “Is Pomacea still safe?”

The laughter died in Jack’s throat. Mia had a point.

“Pomacea is unharmed,” Niamh replied.

Mia. The sensation of Jack’s hand just missing hers as she fell burned into his fingertips. The shock of fear on her face burned into his mind. He jumped to his feet, brushing the dirt away from his face, then rushed to Mia’s side. His pants squeaked, but he didn’t care. He grabbed her and pulled her tight to his chest.

“Jack—” Mia squeaked.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t catch you,” Jack murmured into her hair.

“I-it’s okay! Really!” Mia cried against his vest. “Niamh was there. And if she wasn’t, I knew you and Skye would have saved me.”

“You’re damn right,” Skye murmured.

Jack’s memory told a different story, but anyone would have been scared as hell in her position. And, no matter what, he and Skye would have figured something out. Even if it meant they all went together. He kissed the top of Mia’s head and released her.

“You are strange for a two-legs,” Niamh noted.

“I get that a lot.” It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it, and it wouldn’t be the last. He cleared his throat. “So the tracks breaking didn’t harm the city? It wasn’t suddenly flooded?”

“No. They are prepared for such attacks. The tracks will be rebuilt, and it will take more than a school of passing catfish to harm the dome.”

“Good. That’s a relief.” Mia relaxed and focused on wringing the water from her dress.

“Didn’t you say you protected Pomecea from catfish?” Skye asked. She sheathed the greatsword and laid the rag flat over the back of her shell, letting it dry out in the sun.

“Yes, the city outside of the dome is more susceptible to predators.” Mia’s head snapped up, her concern returned in full force, but Niamh raised a hand. “The catfish you saw were small. Stragglers will be dealt with.”

An uncertain hum sang from Mia’s lips as she returned to her task.

Niamh sighed, sending a string of bubbles through her mask. “If you speak the truth, it is preferable to the thought that you would willingly bring danger to Pomacea.”

“It is the truth, Niamh. We didn’t plan it,” Jack said just as Skye opened her mouth. He could feel the heated string of curses hovering above her tongue. “How often does something like that happen? An unexpected swarm of fish around Pomacea?”

“Perhaps once a cycle. Dams break, weather heats and cools unexpectedly. But the fish avoid the tracks when there is no food inside to tempt them,” Niamh explained.

Jack didn’t care to look at himself as tempting fish food, but there were worse things to be.

“And no one bothered to warn us that they were coming?” Skye had wrestled her corset off, twisting the water from it before laying it flat near the rag on her shell.

“There are lookouts in the city and alarms to cease operations for such events.” Niamh searched Jack’s face, arms still crossed firmly over her chest. “No alarm sounded. Hence my assumption of the test.”

“Well, you passed with flying colors,” Jack replied.

Niamh canted her head. “Are you referring to the blue hue my skin and shell take on? I have been told that it does appear as if I am flying—”

“No. Forget it.” Jack waved a dismissive hand. “We need to get back to Pomacea before the turtle leaves.”

“That should not be a problem. A moment.” Niamh inched to the edge of the lake, then dove downward. Neon blues zigzagged beneath the surface until they vanished in the water’s depths.

Jack checked that his cutlass and grappling hook were still intact. By some miracle, so was his pack. Thank whatever goddess was listening. Even with Niamh’s explosive swimming speed, sending her diving for his lost Shells didn’t seem like the best use of their time.

With Niamh gone, things were suddenly way too quiet. Mia had withdrawn a hairbrush from her pack, smoothing the tangles of auburn spun together in the chaos. When Jack looked at Skye, though, her gaze was miles beyond the lake, mouth set in a steely line.

“You okay, Skye?” Jack asked.

Skye grunted a wordless reply.

“Skye?” Mia asked, collecting her hair over her other shoulder to smooth the other side.

“Just… How could she possibly think for one second that we fucking planned this?” Skye snapped. “Can you even imagine the kind of ridiculous setup we’d need to pull off a stunt like that?”

“She has an…interesting way of looking at things.” Jack shrugged. “Still, she saved our lives.”

“She saved our lives because she thought it was a test. What about when it’s not a test anymore?” Skye checked the straps on her pack and her greatsword, tugging at the leather with angry yanks. “What if saving us means putting herself in danger?”

“I think she still would. She’s trying to be a hero, remember?” Mia offered.

Another frustrated grunt. “What if she can’t be?”

Ah. There it is. Jack had known Skye long enough to see through her anger. It wasn’t Niamh that Skye was mad at. It was herself. She was just as upset as Jack that she’d missed Mia’s hand, that there was nothing she could do while they were being swarmed except slicing the bubble and holding on so they didn’t die.

Mia saw through it, too. She inched her way to Skye’s side, took one of Skye’s busy hands away from their furious task, and entwined their fingers together. “Hey. We’re all safe.”

Skye stared at the ground, wearing a look that said she still wanted to argue. Then her expression softened, and she puffed out her cheeks. “You know, I didn’t hear a single fishy song out of any of those bastards.”

Mia giggled. “Maybe next time.”

A splash of water sounded behind Jack, dampening his already soaking pants, as Niamh shot from the surface and deftly landed on the ground. The blue on her skin and shell settled into her darker palette as she addressed the rest of the Party, bo staff at the ready.

“I recognize where we are.” Niamh’s words became bubbles in her mask. “We will return tomorrow if we make good time.”

“That’s on land, right? Not swimming?” Mia asked.

“Correct. I could return in three hours on my own.” Niamh whipped her bo staff in a blurred spiral before plunging it back into its holster in an impressive show of dexterity. Skye snorted.

“That gives us a day of leeway. That’s good,” Jack said. “What about the dam breaking? Do you need to warn someone?”

“They will have come to a similar conclusion.” Niamh scooted closer to Jack, dark eyes piercing his. “Do you wish for me to leave, two-legs? Is ‘passing with flying’ colors an insult?”

“Uayeb help you, Niamh,” Skye groaned beside Mia’s giggle.

“If the goddess is willing—” Niamh began.

“I want you to stay, Niamh,” Jack interrupted quickly. “It’s not an insult, it’s a compliment. I just don’t want to hold you back if you need to rush back to Pomacea.”

Niamh’s intense stare lingered for longer than necessary, as if she were ready to break out the spotlight and start an interrogation. He held her gaze, trying his best not to smile. That would just lead to more questions.

At last, Niamh said, “Pomacea will be fine without me.” Leaning back, she glanced at Skye and Mia and narrowed her gaze. “Do we all travel hand in hand?”

“Are you fucking kidding me—?” Skye snarled.

Niamh’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and she tucked an errant strand of her bun back into place. “That was a joke.”

Mia’s laughter filled the air while Skye turned three new shades of red.

Niamh’s real test had begun.