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The Gates of Creation by Philip Jose Farmer. Chapter 12, 13, 14

There were many fish of various sizes, shapes, and colors swim­ming close to shore. Even as he watched, he saw a long slender pale tentacle shoot out from under the edge and seize a large fish. The fish struggled but was drawn quickly back under the edge. Wolff got down on all fours and leaned out over the edge to see what kind of creature it was that had caught the prey. The rim on which he stood extended out quite far. In fact, he could not see the base of the land. Instead, he saw a mass of writhing tentacles, many of which gripped fish. And farther back were tentacles that hung deep into the abyss. Presently, one coiled upon itself and brought up a gigantic fish from the deeps.

He withdrew his head hastily, since one of the nearby tentacles was snaking out and up in his general direction. He said, “I won­dered how such a monster could get enough to eat. It must feed mainly on the sea life. And I’ll bet that this animal on which we stand is a vast floater. Like the islands of the waterworld, this thing is free, unattached to any base.”

“That’s nice to know,” Luvah said. “But how does that help us?”

“We need more to eat,” Wolff replied. “Theotormon, you’re the swimmer among us. Would you jump in and swim around a bit? Stay close to shore and be ready to shoot back in. Come out fast, like a seal.”

Theotormon said, “Why should I? You saw how those tentacles grabbed those fish.”

“I think they’re grabbing blindly. Maybe they can detect vibrations in the water, I don’t know. But you’re fast enough to evade them. And the tentacles immediately under this edge are small.”

Theotormon shook his head. “No, I won’t risk my life for you.”

“You’ll starve if you don’t,” Wolff said. “We can’t keep on cutting out chunks of skin. It gets too violent.”

He pointed at a fish that was just skimming by below the surface. It was fat and sluggish with a head shaped like a sphinx. “Wouldn’t you like to sink your teeth in that?”

Theotormon drooled, and his belly thundered, but he would not go after it.

“Give me your knife, then,” Wolff said. He removed the weapon from its scabbard before Theotormon, standing on one leg, could lift the other to clutch the hilt with his toes. He turned and ran and dived out as far as he could. The fish wheeled away from him and scooted away. It was slow but not so slow that he could catch it. Nor had he thought he could. He was interested in finding out if a tentacle, feel­ing the vibrations of the splash and his strokes, would come probing for him.

One did. It undulated down from the fleshy base to which it was attached and then out towards him. He swam back towards the shore, dipping his head below the water to watch it. When he saw it suddenly gain speed as it neared him, he reached out one hand and grabbed its tip. Until then, he had not been certain that the tentacle was not poisonous, like a jellyfish’s. However, the fish that had been seized had fought vigorously with no indication of being envenomed.

The tentacle doubled up on itself, looped, and went around him. He released the tip, turned, and grabbed the tentacle about twelve inches back from its tip. He began to saw at the skin with the knife, which went through fairly easy. The tentacle abandoned its efforts to wrap itself around him and began to pull back. He kept hold with one hand and continued to cut. The water became darker as he was carried back under the edge. Then, the knife was through, and he was swimming back up with the severed part in his teeth.

He heaved the tentacle up on shore and was beginning to pull him­self out when he felt something enfold his right foot. He looked down at a mouth on the end of another tentacle. The mouth was toothless but strong enough to keep its grip on his foot. He clung with his arms on the edge and gasped, “Help me!”

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