“I am not sure if that is a flaw,” Rowan argued. “I don’t even think I have a compatible biology with frogalinas.”

  Talo shook his head in disappointment. “The mucus of frogalinas, the nuances in the bulging of their eyes, the way our tongues intertwine underneath the mud of a riverbank or swamp. Oh poor Rowan. I feel naught but pity for you that you cannot experience such poetry in motion.”

  “I’ll survive.”

  “Yes, but that is not the same as truly living. If not frogalina’s then what females capture your attention, young Rowan?” Talo asked while staring at him with his bulging, aquamarine eyes.

  “Not gonna have this discussion.”

  “Water brothers have no topics they cannot broach! No current is too swift, no ocean too wide. Lay it on me, water brother.”

  Rowan hesitated as Taolo stared at him. Even Catafisha peered over the ledge of the rowboat.

  “Well,” he began, blushing, “Elves are so slender, petite and perfect. The grace with which they move and their pointed ears…”

  Taolo shook his head, “Curves! The curves of a frogalina. It’s all about the curves of their stomach, the mucus that acts as a lubricant and adherent at the same time and the way that we can hop about as—”

  “Stop!” Rowan shouted, “There are some oceans too wide to cross. Some currents of information that are upon your own path, unnecessary to share.”

  “Not true,” Taolo responded. “Not amongst water brothers. In fact there was this one time whe—”

  His story was thankfully interrupted as they came to the end of the lake where the river—Rowan was unsure of its name—flowed further into the Never Ending Forest. They had already gone further than he had ever gone from his village before. He peered over his shoulder, but as overwhelming grief threatened to swallow him, he focused on the task at hand.

  After all, there was a large alligator swimming towards them, larger than his rowboat. Its head breached the surface, the reptilian slit of its yellow eyes staring at them with the menacing focus of a predator on the hunt.

  Taolo scoffed, “This gator has never heard of Taolo the Great, but I will leave this one to you, Rowan. After all, one only grows through struggle.”

  Then Taolo hopped off the boat and landed perfectly on Catafisha who quickly swam away from them, leaving Rowan alone to face the alligator larger than his rowboat, its maw open, revealing sharp teeth the size of his fingers.

  “Water brothers this,” Rowan muttered, “Water brothers that. Yet—”

  “I hear you!” Taolo called, “This is part of our brotherhood, a droplet has a long journey to become a pool and your potential reserves are only a drop. You are dear to water! Have no fear.”

  With those heartening words Taolo left him be, his long tongue shooting towards buzzing insects with an alacrity and length that defied imagination as Catafisha cut through the water.

  Rowan faced towards the alligator and considered what he could do. He had only a limited supply of water and a large alligator headed his way.

  Fight the alligator upon the water.

  But won’t I sink?

  We are woven together. You are not bound by the same rules as others upon the water. Walk and fight. You will know what to do.

  Ok…

  The images that flashed through his mind with the words showed hurricanes, torrential downpours, concentrated streams of water that could cut through steel and more images. The way that water flows around obstacles, the inevitability of currents, Rowan saw countless images and he knew that these were a part of him.

  As the water had said, they were woven together.

  So, as the water had told him, he left the confines of his boat, only his left hand functioning and walked upon the water. His feet did not sink, but he knew that if he wished he could sink into the water and move unimpeded as well.

  Moreover, there was no drain upon his potential reserves. He knew that he could do this anytime. He didn’t even need the rowboat, although it worked well with the currents of the water.

  So, feeling the intuition of the water he walked towards the alligator. His movements flowed as if he were just another current within the water and even though the alligator lived its life in the water, it was separate.

  Rowan was not.

  The alligator closed the distance between them and snapped towards him, but Rowan saw the water displacement and moved in accordance with the currents—flowing around the attack—underneath the alligator. Then Rowan formed a fist and utilized a portion of his potential reserves to form a current that surpassed any naturally occurring phenomena and he pivoted his body to generate torque as his fist flew towards the jaw of the alligator with a speed surpassing white-water rapids.

  His fist landed and the alligator spun through the water from his torque, thrown away from him. It attempted to orient itself, but Rowan formed a pressurised sphere of water, like one might find at the bottom of the ocean and sent it through the less pressurised water of the river to cover the head of the alligator.

  The alligator bellowed, but the pressure crushed its lungs that were not meant for such depths. It then began to float listlessly, twitching and snapping towards Rowan, but he crossed the short distance separating him and the beast. He then placed his hands on both sides of its snapping jaws, the slightest displacement of water allowing him to adjust to make sure that the alligator could not bite his hands.

  Then, like he had with the punch, he utilized localized currents but these went in opposite directions and tore with all the force that he could muster. The jaws of the alligator were ripped apart. Before the strength of the disparate currents could also damage his arms as they tore through the water with a speed surpassing what he had anticipated, they suddenly halted.

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  Careful. Currents are dangerous, utilizing opposing currents of such potency can lead to you damaging your own body.

  Thank you for helping me.

  You are a confluence of me. We are interwoven. For this reason, you will always have my aid unless you stray too far from the path of water.

  As the water advised him and he gave his thanks, a heightened euphoria or dimmed ecstasy coursed through his body. He felt stronger, faster, his mind was more clear and the potential reserves that allowed him to utilize water outside of their natural bond increased.

  Rowan had never felt this before. The fish that he had killed only ever produced a slight tingling as he absorbed their active potential, like the supercharged air of a storm. At least that’s how old man Moro described the electricity in the air that he could feel during a storm.

  This, well this was completely different.

  You are finally gathering active potential. Tread carefully for the currents of active potential often pull individuals towards destinations they never foresaw.

  Yes, water.

  His motion had nearly ripped the jaws of the alligator and they only hung on through a few remaining tendons and small patches of still-connected flesh. Blood diffused through the water forming a crimson cloud that surrounded Rowan.

  Unlike when he was in the village, this did not affect him. This was like fishing or when his dad would bleed a beast he had hunted. It was nothing that disturbed the surface of his mind other than faint ripples of amazement filling him.

  I did that. That was me. My hands and my bond with the water. I…

  He had just been a simple villager, only able to catch fish because Talaria had ensured the lake was safe. Yet now he could face a massive alligator on his own. Not just that, but he had done so effortlessly. He felt he could have faced several at the same time.

  As if his thoughts were prophecy, serpents with scales that glimmered in the diffused light of the water came weaving through the water towards him. They were twice the size of the alligator but unlike the alligators, they did not instantly attack him. Instead they bowed their serpentine heads as the rest of their massive body remained still.

  One of them who was covered in an alternating pattern of copper and gold scales spoke, “We have witnessed your authority of water as you fought the alligator. We come to greet one whom the water has acknowledged. We invit—”

  That was when Taolo cut through the water on Catafisha. “Sketchy serpents! Stay away from them, Rowan. These bastards love to eat little frogs. Back before I was Taolo the Great these Serpolian would chase me endlessly. They feared my potential!”

  The snake looked at Taolo and although Rowan could not read the reptilian gaze, he heard a combination of fear, tension and annoyance when the snake said, “Taolo. We greet the pirate king.”

  Rowan glanced at him and he settled into a smug stance.

  “Yup. That’s me. Scourge of the seven lakes. Lover of frogalinas and reaper of those who attempt to traverse the water which is not their domain. Well…” Taolo paused and looked a bit chagrined. “Six lakes. Talaria was scary and I guess you can have one lake, water-brother.”

  Rowan felt shocked, “You’re a pirate?”

  “Indeed,” the serpolian affirmed, “He leads a fleet upon his catfish. He is well known in the local rivers and lakes, a harbinger of misfortune for many.”

  Then again, Rowan shouldn’t have felt shocked. Taolo had come at him with swords a-swinging, leaping at him off Catafisha without another thought until he had demonstrated his capabilities with water.

  The serpolion then continued, “We seek no conflict Taolo. We are simply greeting a sorcerer of water’s origin. Our shamans have confirmed this to be true.”

  This time it was Taolo’s turn to look shocked as his mouth opened wide, his tongue flickering through the water to catch a small fish that went by them.

  “Origin!” he exclaimed while muching on the fish, “Are you certain?”

  “Yes,” the serpolion confirmed. “We were shocked as well, for a mortal to possess such capacity, nevertheless one within the bottom rungs of the first tier. I wonder what ripples this shall send through the Warring Realm.”

  “I knew some level of authority was involved, but origin…” Taolo trailed off and then resumed his earlier bravado. “Only to be expected of my water-brother! Together we shall lead a fleet to command all the rivers of the Never Ending Forest. The forming of a pirate empire!”

  “No,” Rowan responded in a deadpan voice. “Not gonna happen. I’m not a marauder, I just want to make sure that villages aren’t destroyed anymore. I want to be able to protect peaceful communities like where I grew up so that…” He remembered Taolo’s earlier reaction to his emotions and quickly held them back. “I can make sure that innocents are not caught up in the violent momentum of another.”

  The serpolion said in a smooth, undulating voice like sediment and water cascading over one another, “That will be no easy task. For war brings with it the momentum of violence, an inevitable occurrence within our realm. You will have to become powerful indeed to attempt to hold onto such a black and white, moralistic view of the world. In that process I wonder if your intent can remain unchanged.”

  The butchered, still bodies of his siblings, neighbors and friends flashed through Rowan’s mind as he declared “I can. I will.”

  Taolo shook his head. “So you say. Yet to achieve the power necessary, you will be forced to make decisions. I protect my fleet through the fear I inspire. I have my people and I do what is necessary. You will have to strike such a balance as well, Rowan. You grew up isolated, but the reality is not so black and white. Only shades of grey are found within those who have truly experienced the world.”

  Rowan shook his head, desperation welling in him.

  Taolo and the serpolion regarded him. He could not read them like he could another man or woman yet he knew they doubted him. He did as well. For if he wanted to have the power to protect what he wanted to protect, he would have to ascend, swimming upwards through the pool of viscous crimson blood of his slain foes.

  Still, he stubbornly refused to acknowledge this verbally, holding onto a shred of hope that he could maintain his simple self, his morality and all that made him who he was: his roots as a villager in a peaceful community filled with laughter, simplicity and fishing.

  “For now,” Taolo said, breaking the momentary silence, “Let us leave these accursed serpolion. I will introduce you to my fleet. They will then come to know my water-brother, a nascent sorcerer of water’s origin.”

  Rowan considered Taolo’s words but shook his head. “That is not my path, Taolo. I’ll go with the serpolion for now. I have so much to learn.”

  Taolo sighed, “Yes, perhaps you were not meant to be a pirate, but you are my water-brother nonetheless and one day I hope you will learn the joy found in the sticky, slimy and wet embrace of a frogalina. The way that th—”

  “That’s enough,” Rowan said. “Boundaries, Taolo. We are following our own currents of fate. I do not believe that frogalina—”

  “Never say never, young Rowan. For the temptation of a frogalin—”

  “Taolo.”

  “You are young, foolish, not wise to the way of the world, but if you open your eyes and accept the true breadth of what the world can offer such as the embrace of the long, winding tongue of a frogalina the—-”

  Rowan began to swim towards the bottom of the river where he assumed the serpolion society lay, leaving behind his brief encounter with Taolo the Great, lover of frogalinas and over-sharer of private information.

  The serpolion of gold and copper that he had been speaking with followed suit. “Thank you for joining us, he who has been acknowledged as kin to water. My name is Hiorno.”

  “Nice to meet you Hiorno, I am Rowan.”

  “Yes, I heard the pirate king speak your name. A good…” Hiorno paused, “water brother—as he put it—to have. He acts the fool and plays the renegade, but many fear his prowess with the blade, command of mud and expansive fleet.”

  “Mud,” Rowan repeated.

  Yeah. That checked. Taolo seemed like a right dirty sort of bastard. Rowan used a phrase from old man Moro. He said it was an ancient turn of phrase although he never did elaborate.