Anthology: The Magic of Krynn

His line went taut. The bow of the boat tipped down as the creature at the other end dove deep with the hook in its mouth.

He didn't really think he had caught the Blood Sea Monster, did he?

Expertly, the old fisherman gave the diving fish some slack and let him run. Then, as the fish let up, the old man tugged back, reeling him in. When the fish tried to pull away, the old man patiently repeated the process. Yet I could tell that Six-Finger was straining. Whatever was at the end of the line was something powerful, something that wouldn't give up without a terrible fight.

But Six-Finger stayed with the creature until it finally broke the surface again, splashing just off the stem of the boat.

"It's big!" I cried despite myself, seeing the shadow that it cast in the moonlight.

The old man simply scowled. He knew what he had-and it wasn't what he wanted. Still, he reeled the fish in. I helped get it out of the water by using the old man's net.

When I dumped it on the bottom of the little boat, I could see what the old man had caught: a rare-and very feisty-Bela Fish. I had heard of them but had never seen one before because fishermen always throw them overboard. You see, the Beta Fish tastes terrible, and there is no market for it. It's also bad luck to kill a Bela Fish because it's one of the rare fish that can communicate with land creatures.

And the Bela Fish wasn't shy about communicating with us…

"The hook hurts!" it cried. "Take it out of my mouth!"

I immediately got down on my knees and carefully removed the hook.

"Thank you," said the fish. "Now, if you would be so good as to get me back in the water?"

I didn't hesitate. I started putting my hands underneath the body of the Bela Fish, but the old man slapped my wrists. "Leave him be," said Six-Finger. "I think we'll keep him. He'll make good bait."

Upon hearing the old man's words, the Bela Fish started flopping all over the bottom of the boat, desperately trying to wriggle over the side. But it was no use. "Please," begged the fish, "let me go!"

I was stunned. I couldn't believe that the old man could be so cruel. How could a man share his food so generously in one moment and then torture an innocent creature in the next?

"Let the Bela Fish go," I demanded. "If he doesn't get back in the water soon, he will die."

"Then he'll die," replied Six-Finger steadfastly. "But I'll give this fish one chance to save his life. And one chance only."

"What is it?" cried the Bela Fish. "I'll do anything."

"Tell me where I can find the Blood Sea Monster," demanded the old man.

The Bela Fish looked at me and then at the old man. "You don't want to know that," it said.

"I do, indeed," insisted Six-Finger. "If you want to live, you will tell me. And you'll tell me right now."

"If YOU want to live, you'll head right back to shore," retorted the fish.

My eyes opened wide at the meaning of the fish's words. "You mean there is such a beast, then?" I cried.

"There is, yes, oh, without question-yes," said the Bela Fish. "And I can tell you that we swim away as fast as we can when we hear that it's near."

"Why?"

The Bela Fish blinked. "You mean you don't know?"

"No."

The fish tried to laugh, but it was quickly losing its strength. Instead, in a weak voice, it said, "There is a reason why no one has ever seen the Blood Sea Monster and lived. It moves through the water like a dark shadow. And the water in its wake is cold, empty… dead."

"I don't understand," I said, confused.

"You'll understand all too well if you continue your foolish quest," it replied. "I beg of you, don't-"

"Enough!" exploded the old man, cutting off the Bela Fish. He picked up the fish in his two hands and demanded, "Where is the beast? It's that, or I'll eat you myself, bad taste and all!"

"I was just trying to save you," it gasped. "But if you want to know so badly, I'll tell you."

"Speak up, then, and don't delay," said the old man harshly, leaning close to hear the Bela Fish's words.

"The beast you seek is close by, near the center of the Blood Sea, where a ship was sucked into the whirlpool's maelstrom. You see, it's the monster's ever-swinging tail that causes the whirlpool, and it's the steam that rises from its body that causes the raging storm that never leaves the center of the sea."

I shuddered, remembering the body and the wooden plaque with the name. THE PERECHON.

The old man grunted with satisfaction. The Bela Fish's words had not frightened Six-Finger Fiske the way they had frightened me. Finally, after all these years, his revenge was at hand.

In fulfillment of his bargain, the old man threw the Bela Fish overboard. Then Six-Finger feverishly took the oars in hand and began rowing toward the deadly center of the Blood Sea. But even as Six-Finger rowed, the Bela Fish swam up close beside the boat and warned, "You're making a mistake. Turn away! Don't go!"

When the old man ignored the fish, the creature turned toward me and cried, "You were kind to me. I want to help you. Listen to what I say, and jump overboard. Save yourself!"

The sea elves are cousins of my people, but that didn't mean that I could swim like a fish. We were miles from shore and the thought of jumping into the middle of the Blood Sea seemed akin to taking my own life. Despite my fear, I chose to stay with the old man.

But I would have stayed anyway. There was something about the old man's fierce determination that hit a nerve inside of me. He was so sure of himself, so unafraid, that it inspired my confidence. I had been impressed by the old man's sureness in the boat-how he caught the Bela Fish and reeled him in so expertly. But, most of all, I thought how wonderful it would be to witness this great feat if the old man really did catch the monster fish. Six-Finger Fiske would be famous, yes, but so would I! I'd be part of the greatest adventure of our time; I'd be the most famous elf in the entire world if I helped catch the Blood Sea Monster.

The old man pulled on the oars for a long time, his breath growing ragged.

"Let me row for a while," I offered. "You'll need your strength if the monster strikes your line."

"That's true," agreed Six-Finger. "I'm glad you came along."

His approval put a smile on my face. I dipped the oars into the water and rowed as hard as I could.

It wasn't long before the moon and stars were obscured by swirling clouds. We were entering the edge of the storm that hovered over the center of the sea. The winds blew raw and cold. And the water itself began to grow rough beneath the boat. We were getting close to the whirlpool… close to the monster.

"Pull in your oars," ordered the old man. "I'll cast my line from here."

I was tired from the rowing and was glad to stop. I rubbed my aching arms as I watched the old man cast his line into the dark scarlet sea.

My eyes were fixed on the line dangling out of the boat, figuring that we'd immediately get a strike. But soon my eyes became as tired as my arms and I slumped down into the boat, snuggling into the netting to keep warm. Out of the wind, I felt better, safer. With my excitement ebbing, exhaustion finally crept up on me and I drifted off to sleep.

I don't know how long I dozed, but when I opened my eyes, I heard the old man cough and grumble. I felt sorry for him, sitting up in the cold, damp night, fighting to keep his dream alive of catching this one great fish before he died. It seemed like a dream that would go unfulfilled, for the night was passing and he hadn't had a single bite on his line.

Not a single bite.

My breath caught in my throat. In all that time, it was impossible that the old man hadn't had a single nibble, unless the waters here were DEAD. And if that was true…

A terrible fear gripped me, and I wanted to tell the old man to pull up his line. But I didn't get the chance. In that very moment, he shouted, "I've got a strike!"