Chapter One - The Wandering Wonder

31 Aug

There once was a fish that had a dream.

He believed, you see, in the world beyond the water’s edge. He believed so strongly that he would often surface and stare out at it, gasping, wondering what it was like beyond the treeline. He believed so desperately that, despite the obvious limitations, he began to strategize his escape.

It may strike you as strange but it was not until that moment – when the fish first realized he was different – that he became aware of himself as an individual being, separate from the others. He gave himself two names at that time, one for others to call him and a secret name he could call himself. His public name was Erviell.

So it was that Erviell the fish searched the length, breadth and depth of lakes and rivers.

So it was that the fish gained strength, swimming with and against currents.

So it was that he searched, observing the landstrider races and even the skyfish, and began attempting to copy their habits, behaviour and lifestyle.

And so it was that the fish learned focus, memory and wisdom, and thus bettered his brethren, for they have none of these.

The dream began to burn inside of Erviell, and he began sharing his hopes with those around him. They laughed delightedly at the joke, and laughed mockingly when they realised he wasn’t joking.

“What is there for you but to swim in the lake? You are not a frog!” they sneered.

Frogs. Of course. The fish chided himself for not remembering, and flashed away.

The frogs themselves applauded Erviell’s dreams and tried to help him. He would fly at the shore and leap out as far as he could. Once he had landed, he wriggled in thrusting hunches to force himself further, gasping, suffocating. Each time, the frogs rolled him back to the water just before he passed out. This continued for a few days, but the frogs tired of the game and Erviell remained determined.

“We haven’t seen the likes of you since Bahndekring,” they puffed, blowing bubbles at him.

“Yes, go to him!” the others chimed, relieved. “If anyone will understand, it’s him!”

All the clean-waters had heard of Bahndekring. A thing more frog than anything else, yet also many other things that a self-respecting frog had no right to be. He had gone away once and come back… different.

Upon his return, Bahndekring had tried for a short time to rejoin his family, yet now he shunned other frogs, preferring to live alone in hard-to-access crevasses and crags at the bottom of the lake.

He had found a stone of blackest pitch, which had spoken to him in exchange for half his skin. No, he had killed a tadpole, worn its tail like a second skin, and when the stone spoke then the tail attached to Bahndekring, becoming deformed in the process, and this was just the start. None knew what had really happened to him, and no two accounts agreed. All knew him as Bahndekring, and feared him for being other.

Erviell felt a wariness of his own in approaching the famous frog yet could not immediately understand why. It slowly occurred to him as he glided toward Bahndekring’s dwelling that this was the only other being in the lake that had a name.

The sunken depressions in the rocks were not bustling with water creatures. The crevice acting as entryway to Bahndekring’s hold was devoid of all other living presence. Erviell was tethered to his apprehension, both led and driven by it. He was therefore suitably shocked when he actually saw Bahndekring for the first time.

First, Erviell noticed the feathers.

Like the skyfish. But on the frog. Actually growing from his back, along with thin, waterlily-like protrusions.

The frog also had a tail, long and strong like the tadpoles, but coated in short fur until the end, which sprouted long hair. Something like a twice-bent pink spike protruded from his back, blunt at the end and fleshy rather than hard.

The bulging frog let himself be gawked at, impassively beholding his guest through great gold orbs.

After a short while, he growled, “I suppose I should welcome you. But I won’t. What will it take to send you on your way?”

Erviell swam in a tight, anxious circle. “You’re not… I mean, you’re – are you?”

“Frog, not toad,” Bahndekring sighed.

“No, I mean- You are… Bahndekring. Aren’t you?”

“Why haven’t you left yet?” Bahndekring snapped, swooshing his tail.

“Oh! Yes, your sirness. I came looking for you to-”

“You came here on purpose?” the frog interrupted incredulously.

“Well, I had to find you,” the fish burbled. He jutted his chin out proudly. At least, he tried to jut whatever approximates to a chin for a fish. The overall effect was probably that he looked like he might be having a fit. “I am Erviell.”

“Well now,” drawled the frog. His eyes flared to life and focused on Erviell, who found it much more unsettling than Bahndekring’s indifference.

“Aren’t you a little wonder, then?” Bahndekring breathed. “Are there more? Named ones?” This last was asked suddenly, sharply.

“I don’t know,” Erviell said. “I think it’s just us.”

“I see. And what can Bahndekring do for Erviell?”

“I want to go away and come back different. Like you did.”

“Ha!” the frog erupted, bellowing out a great coughing laugh that went on and on. “Ahh, but that is not how I did things. I became different and then went away, every time becoming more different until I became what I am. And this is what you want, also, unless I miss my guess: to be different from what you are.”