The River King 1

The River King 1 Taylor Hebert I stormed out of the school. Or, I tried. It was early February and most of the city was half-buried in ice a

The River King 1

Taylor Hebert

I stormed out of the school. Or, I tried. It was early February and most of the city was half-buried in ice and slush. I slipped on the ice and almost tripped down the stairs before catching myself against the metal railing. The ice-cold metal burned against my skin and I heard a titter of laughter behind me. I couldn’t even run away right.

Bitter tears streamed down my face. New Hampshire winters sucked. The wind bit like a thousand needles, reminding me that I hadn’t even bothered to clean myself up. The juice Madison poured down my hair would freeze into icy slush by the time I got home but that was better than going back to class. None of the teachers gave a damn about attendance anyway.

Nothing changed. I’d hoped, prayed, that things would get better after the locker. I’d been a delusional fool.

The three bitches quieted down for a month or so. They told everyone I’d had a psychotic breakdown, that I was at an asylum, that I’d been to rehab, that I’d been a Merchant whore before even the druggies got sick of me and kicked me out. It didn’t matter whether what they said made any sense so long as it hurt. 

That was fine. That was bliss. I could handle the mean words. Emma had used all the material she had months ago. And for a while, that was all they did. Even the useless teachers kept an eye out for a while.

Then, February came and they picked up right where they left off. Emma had cronies from the football team take up the entire hallway so I couldn’t pass, so she could throw mom’s death in my face again. Sophia kicked me in the shin every chance she got. Madison, the petty bitch, tossed pencil shavings and half-chewed gum into my hair.

I tasted the salty tang of my own snot and hastily wiped it on my sleeve. Gross, but who cared? My sweater was beyond salvation anyway.

Thankfully, I didn’t live too far from school. If I had, I might have been in real trouble, or had to have called dad. Would he have cared then?

I sobbed out a broken laugh. It wasn’t like he could change anything. He yelled at the school administrators. He threatened to sue. But who was he kidding? He didn’t even have the energy to repair our front step. Emma’s dad showed up, talked about how his darling girl could do no wrong, and that was that.

I was the liar. I had no proof. I just wanted attention. I was jealous of my old friend because I didn’t get a high school glow-up. I wasn’t “adjusting well” ever since mom passed.

I took a shuddering breath to try to calm myself. Nothing changed. I was still pathetic, bullied Taylor Hebert.

Then, as I turned into an empty street, something caught my eye. It was a figure, hunched over in the cold. He was huge, taller than me and three times my width. He wore a well-fitted suit that hid most of his hulking frame. On his head was a tophat. It probably would have been normal-sized on me, but looked comically small on someone so large.

He turned around and I gasped in surprise. I took an unconscious step back. He had a mouth that split his face, slick, fish-like skin, and a pair of long, fleshy whiskers with a brass ring on the base of the left one.

He wasn’t human.

I immediately felt bad for thinking that. He was a “monstrous cape,” one of those Case-53s that sometimes showed up. They had no memories, no homes or lives, no one to turn to. The PRT took them in, or they fell into the gangs. I was looking at a man even more unfortunate than me.

“H-Hello,” I stammered, the cold forgotten for the moment.

“Why, hello there, little one,” he said. He had a smooth, baritone voice that reminded me of a character from an old western. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I am, would you?”

“B-Brockton Bay,” I replied. I looked around surreptitiously but the street remained empty. The PRT liked to say monstrous capes were not innately dangerous, but standing in front of him was intimidating.

“A fine name for a city. And what might the name of this kind young lady be?”

“K-Kind?”

“Why, of course? Who else would help poor ol’ Tahm Kench?” he said with a wide, toothy smile that brought out a much shyer one in me.

I felt my cheeks flush in spite of myself. How was it that the first person to say something kind to me in months was a Case-53 who probably didn’t even remember how to tie his own shoes?

“Thank you… Tahm.”

“I only speak the truth. Now, why are you sad, Taylor?”

“That’s… It’s nothing…”

“Is it? We all have our cravings. Everything matters to somebody.”

“Maybe.”

He looked like something between a toad and a bloated catfish but he had such a warm personality. I couldn’t help but compare him to Emma; they were exact opposites.

He placed a large hand on my shoulder. It was fleshy with thick claws like no animal I knew of. He steered me towards an abandoned playground nearby. It always had a few kids playing in it in the summer but school was still in session now and no one wanted to brave the snow besides.

“Come, sit with me awhile, Taylor,” he urged with a wide, warm smile that seemed to banish the cold. “Tell ol’ Two Coats what troubles you. I can’t say I can help, but I can offer some ol’ folksy wisdom.”

“Two Coats?”

“Why, I needed twice the fabric so I’m called Two Coats,” he said with an affable chuckle. “What seems to be the matter?”

“I… I’m not having a good time at school…” I told him. He was a Case-53 anyway. It wasn’t like he had anyone to tell. Emma would rather die than associate with someone like him. 

I told him about how a best friend betrayed me, how they broke my mother’s flute and destroyed my homework. I wasn’t even sure why I kept talking. I couldn't help it. Now that I’d opened my mouth, words spilled out like a river.

Tahm listened patiently. He had a comforting presence, big and sturdy as if nothing could move him. Maybe I really was this pathetically starved for affection, but this was… nice.

“Do you feel better now, Taylor?” He asked. 

I sniffled, sicking up a bit of snot that threatened to run down my face. “Y-Yeah. Thanks for listening, Tahm.”

“Aw, shucks. We all need a sympathetic ear once in a blue moon. If you ever want to unload your troubles, ol’ Tahm Kench is always happy to listen.”

X

I met him several times after that. He was often around that slushy, abandoned playground when no one else was around. Did he go unnoticed somehow? Or did people just not want to talk to a monstrous cape?

I supposed it didn’t matter. I was just grateful to have a friend. Always, when I had a bad day, he'd sit with me and let me vent. He'd walk me home, always parting ways around my neighborhood so I didn’t feel unsafe. He was considerate like that.

It took me longer than it should have to realize that he must have been waiting for me. We were a pair of lonely people who saw ourselves in each other. Maybe, just like me, he just wanted a friend who wouldn’t freak out at his appearance.

“I could eat them for you,” Tahm offered with a sly smirk that showed off his pearly whites. They were big and sharp, like miniature traffic cones.

I laughed. It was a long-running joke between us. Tahm often said things like that. The way he laughed at himself, the way he could poke fun at the parts of himself that were most different, made me think that one day, I might be able to do the same. 

Oh, I didn’t doubt that he could do some real damage if he bit someone, but he’d never hurt anyone. Tahm was harmless. He was a self-proclaimed “genteel catfish” and violence “wasn’t befitting of a gentleman such as myself.” He reminded me of a gruff uncle who talked big but was kind to people, to broken, pathetic teenagers like me.

He was never bitter about being a Case-53, never held a grudge against people who were more fortunate than him. He said life was like a river, and that the river would provide him his meals one way or another. He was a better person than I was.

If anything, the trio were more in danger of sudden death by bees. I giggled and lightly punched his meaty shoulder. “That's a terrible thing to say.”

“Now, I can't pretend I have your moral fiber, Taylor, but it seems to me that such a punishment would be just desserts for what they’ve done.”

“Still no. What if you get in trouble with the heroes?”

“Then I suppose I will have to rely on you to vouch for my good character,” he said in that country drawl that made me think nothing was ever worth hurrying over. 

“Yeah, as if the heroes would listen to me.”

“Whyever not? You have powers of your own, don't you?”

I tensed. What had given it away? “What are you talking about?”

“Come now, Taylor. We've known one another long enough. I possess certain gifts,” he said with an easy smile.

“Y-You do?”

“You didn't think my genteel good looks and dulcet voice were all I had going for me, did you?”

“Well… What gave it away?”

“I can see the desires of others, young lady. I can strike bargains with them,” he replied with an ambivalent shrug. “I can even give people powers.”

“You can-You’re a thinker-trump?”

“Is that what it's called?”

“Why haven't you gone to the PRT? They'd love someone like you,” I said.

They would. Everyone was always saying how the Protectorate could use every advantage it could get. If Tahm could really give people powers, then… then he was more valuable to them than me.

I’d avoided going to the PRT because my power was weak. I didn’t want to join the Wards, only to find that it was just an extension of the teenage drama and bullying I’d faced in school. I thought that if I could prove myself as a hero first, then they’d have to respect me more.

If I had a power like Tahm’s, would I have joined them right away? Trumps were some of the best out there. Eidolon was a trump.

“Would they?” he asked rhetorically. He shook his head with a sad smile. “I know that many would consider my appearance… unfortunate…”

“I don't think that. You’re–”

“And that is mighty kind of you, Taylor. But I know that most people would rather run from me than call me a hero.”

“The heroes wouldn't judge you for that,” I said. But in the back of my mind, I wondered. The running joke was that the PR in PRT actually stood for “public relations.” Maybe my friend had the same insecurities about the heroes that I had.

“Perhaps, but what about the public? I’ve learned that the average layperson is not well-informed on such matters.”

“They’re going to jump to conclusions.”

“Right you are. Don’t look sad, Taylor. I have a friend who can look past my appearance. What more could a man ask for?”

“So you’re not joining the heroes?”

He scoffed, something between a croak and a laugh. “I am no circus creature to be gawked at by those who happen to be more fortunate.”

I understood. How could I not? He refused to go to the PRT for the same reasons I hadn't either. If anything, I felt relieved to hear it. I couldn’t blame him if he did, but it’d mean I’d see my only friend less.

I immediately felt selfish for thinking that way. I didn't know where he lived exactly, but it couldn't have been comfortable. He gave up a secure life for his freedom and pride. I could only hope to have half of my friend's resilience.

“I guess I don't want to join them much either,” I admitted. I'd wanted to, once upon a time, but hearing him voice my own concerns made that desire sputter and die. Besides, it’d mean leaving my best friend and that wasn’t acceptable. “Tahm?”

“Yes, Taylor?”

“What kinds of powers can you give? And what are the costs? Have you tried it with anyone?”

He smiled a wide, toothy smile. “Why, I can grant all sorts of powers. Strength. Knowledge. Good fortune. Even a gift of water.”

“Water?”

“Don’t you know, Taylor? All of life is a river, and I’m its king.”

“You say that a lot. I still don’t know what you mean.”

He smiled and held out a hand. A puddle formed beneath his feet. “Care to join me?”

I hesitated for a moment. He was my best friend, but I’d only known him briefly. I knew it was risky to trust strange capes, but… but I wanted to trust someone again. Anyone.

I took his hand. He lifted me up and I saw his mouth yawn open.

X

“You ate me!” I yelled indignantly.

“I do apologize for the uncomfortable means of travel,” he said sheepishly. His big, pearly whites gleamed in the evening light. We were out in the Boat Graveyard somewhere, on a boat several dozen yards into the sea.

“You ate me!” I repeated, mostly in shock. I did my best to wipe the slobber out of my hair.

“And I must say, you do taste mighty fine, Taylor.”

“What? No! I don’t want to hear that!”

“Well, how did you think you’d travel?”

“I thought you’d carry me.”

“I did.”

“In your mouth.”

“I have a very big mouth.”

I glared at him, eyes narrowed. His whiskers twitched in that way I knew meant he was laughing at me. “You’re enjoying yourself.”

“I can tell no lies, I enjoy our time together,” he said shamelessly.

“Ugh… Please don’t ever do that again.”

“As you wish.”

“So… That was your water power?”

“It was,” he agreed.

I sat down on the wind-blasted hull. The paint had long since chipped off and the cabin had been looted. It was probably a fishing boat before someone rammed it near shore.

Today was Friday. Dad worked late and he’d barely nodded when I told him I’d be out with a friend. I’d asked Tahm to hang out with me because I didn’t want to go home to an empty house. I had a feeling he felt the same way, wherever he lived.

“Lucky,” I said, kicking the hull with my heel. “Your power’s amazing.”

“And what is your power, might I ask?” he said in that comforting, country drawl. How did a Case-53 pick up accents anyway?

“I control bugs. You know, insects and stuff. I’m pretty sure I can control crabs too, but that’s still useless. I’ve been sowing a costume for myself out of spider silk, but… but I’m not sure if I can be a hero.”

“Whyever not? That power sounds mighty fine to ol’ Tahm.”

“It does?”

“It does. Why, a gentleman’s gotta eat,” he said, rubbing his belly.

I gaped at him in shock. I guess I’d never wondered where he got his food. Tahm did look like a big toad, but… “So you… eat… bugs…?”

“There is plenty and I hurt no one.”

“I guess… Why didn’t you say anything? I could have helped you find other food.” My allowance wouldn’t have paid for more than a snack, but even a protein bar was better than nothing.

“Well, young lady, my condition demands that I seek a more… exciting prey.”

It took a minute for me to get what he was saying. I winced in sympathy. “You mean live ones.”

“Yes. Why, I am a unique sort of epicure.”

I shook my head. It was disgusting, but I refused to let it show. His reluctance to go to the PRT made even more sense now.

More than anything, Tahm was my friend. He deserved to not go hungry because he had to catch bugs. Maybe, in that light, my power was perfect to help him.

“I’ll feed you,” I blurted out. 

“You? Feed me? Aren’t you the kindest soul?” Tahm said with a smile.

“My power may as well be good for something. If live bugs is what you eat, then fine. I can bring them to you by the tons.”

“No, no, that won’t do, Taylor. I am a gentleman. It isn’t right to accept charity.”

“It’s not charity, Tahm! I’m just… You’re my friend…”

“And it is even less appropriate to impose upon friends, Taylor,” he said firmly. “Well, then. How about this? Let us strike a bargain, you and I. You give me your body weight in insects once per week, and I will grant you some small part of my power for the same duration.”

“What? You don’t need to do that,” I said. But I was tempted. Tahm’s power? That was hydrokinesis, right? Or teleportation via water?

I could be a real hero then. I could use my bugs to scout the city. Already, I was learning to interpret the sounds they heard into intelligible words. I could be everywhere, report on everything. And I could be safe, always a step away from danger.

“Oh, but I do, Taylor,” Tahm said with a belly-shaking laugh. “A good turn deserves another. The power I give you will be minor, I’m afraid that’s just how a bargain works, but how about it? It’d make me feel ever more at ease to know my dear friend was protected.”

I flushed at that. He cared, in a way no one had in years. Even if I didn’t get the teleportation power, it’d be nice to have anything in my back pocket. “O-Okay, let’s do it. But will it be enough? Just once per week?”

“I need not eat often. Patience is a virtue that I possess aplenty.”

“W-Well, okay. If you think that’s best.”

He reached out a hand. “Very well, let us shake on it, budding hero to ol’ Yawn-Belly.”

I took his hand with a smile. “You’ve got a deal, Tahm.”

Author’s Note

This was a commission. I think it’ll be in the same vein as Let There Be War, a short what-if story of a LoL character getting dumped into Worm. This time, it’s Tahm Kench, because the commissioner decided Earth-Bet isn’t enough of a shithole.

They didn’t say anything about Taylor, but I realized I’d never really touched her despite writing so much in the fandom. Besides, “Being Taylor is suffering.” It’s time I live up to the series motto. Who better to go for than the queen of justifying bad decisions?

For those who don’t know who Tahm Kench is, he’s a catfish demon from Runeterra who’s been around since the dawn of civilization. As you can see, he’s a proper gentleman who makes bargains with people.

Anything else would be spoilers.

Since we’re on the subject, have a catfish fact: The largest freshwater fish ever found is the Mekong giant catfish, native to the Mekong river basin in Vietnam. The Mekong River is the longest river in Southeast Asia and flows from China through Myanmar, Laos, Cambodia, Thailand, and Vietnam.

The largest specimen ever found was nine feet long and 646 pounds. For reference, a male lion weighs, on average, about 420 pounds. Think about that.

Bonus Fact: Though catfish are considered good eating in the USA (especially the South), they’re not popular among Koreans. They’re culturally associated with murky, dirty water and so perceived as low quality. Which isn’t to say we don’t eat them, simply that they’re usually not a first pick.