Herk goes fishing

Herk Kingsly was just a lad in a worn jacket, with the cuffs frayed and blue canvas pants, a fishing pole on his shoulder, and a merry tune whistling through his lips. Chores had been done, the majority of the men were out on the sea, (which was never far from sight in this remote settlement) and a plan to meet a friend. Fishing was not just a sport here, it was the livelihood of most of the populace in one fashion or another. The name “Kingsly” was a reminder of the way the place had been founded accidently; a ship bearing some minor royalty had been struck by one of the vicious northern storms and had come aground on the reefs protecting the harbor, the men, women and children had waded, clamored and swam ashore, not knowing where they were, or even if they would live through the night, or the next. They had, and over the years had managed to first survive, and then to thrive after a fashion. The village of Kingsly had resulted, and men and women, being what they are, had married, intermarried, and sent for mates when necessary. Fish from the sea were full of meat and fish oil, and traders found the place as well, to sell or trade what was lacking, or just wanted. It wasn’t as rich a place as some, nor as poor as others, and a little profit was better than none. So the place lasted. It was huddled between the mountains and the sea, a few rich valleys and some clean rivers, the houses not more than large huts except in the very center and along the coast where they became real multi story houses, 3 and sometimes 4 stories high. The lighthouse was one, every harbor had to have one, and they were no exception.

The main peculiarity about the location was that in the valleys leading from the mountains to the sea, were other “people”, some larger than most. Giants they were called, although they didn’t see themselves as such. Food and drink and a certain kind of herb were the “secret” to their size. A large race indeed and often blamed for things they did not actually do. One of their sons was friends with Herk, having had fished him out of a swollen stream two summers ago, and having been helped in turn to land a large shark from a quiet place on the seashore where there was a handy rock to perch on, and just fish. From such simple things a friendship had formed. Each was aware of the others unique place in society, one a fisherman son, one destined to be a metal worker, if that was where his talents lay. Giants lived in their youth in the hills, thus “Hill Giant”, when they reached the age or ability to do serious work, they moved to the mining settlement, and became Metal Giants, and from there, if mining was in the blood, as it surely was for some, to the inner mountains themselves, and became Frost or Stone Giants. Yet in all this, they were just a branch of the Human family tree. Larger and more quarrelsome than some to be sure, but human as any others at base. He remembered well the first time he’d been to Frud s home, a large, (by his standards) log dwelling, tucked back in the foothills of the Stonebeard Mountain Range. It had been a very successful fishing expedition, and lunch had been mentioned. For some reason the cheese was really good when it came from Frud; they must understand how it was made. The palisade was logs as well, and the grounds were alive with sheep, goats, and cattle. And a large puma sized cat sleeping on the roof. The dogs were huge as well! From that humble meeting, and a subsequent quiet meeting of his mother, uncle and aunt in the woods, because Frud s people just would not fit in the village, things had gone quietly for years.

Secrets were few and scarce in little villages like that, everyone knew everyone else and their business. But it wasn’t bandied about, though a quiet word to the right ear could bring extra large muscle to move a stubborn boulder, and messages could be left in a certain hollow tree, for someone of smaller stature to help with things that needed smaller hands than Giant Sized. Mostly though they went their own ways, such as they were; though the local “wizard” had begun to teach Herk some things about the world at large. No one knew just where Lazlo had come from, he had just been in one of the gypsy caravans and had stayed. Adept at what was called “magic”, and older than most, he’d made a quiet life, healing and auguring for people large and small. That he knew far more than the average citizen was obvious to any and all. It was considered lucky to have one such in the village.

The air was fragrant with woodsy smells, not the smell of the sea, which was as familiar to the villagers as smoke or fish, and most could tell what the weather would be the coming week just from the smell of the sea and from the way the winds blew. The forest now, that was different; the way the branches blew in the wind, the grass and flowers in the clearings, animal tracks all over the paths. Now where was Frud? He should have been “Fred” or even “Red” – with that wild mane of red hair, but “Frud” it was, and Herk didn’t mind a bit. It made him different from his family, the rest being brown and black haired, except for –

Janet came out of the clearing, on the other side of the river, a dirty blonde, with the gangling gait of a girl just coming into young womanhood, looking like a big version of some of his cousins; though he would never say such a thing out loud. Some folks had peculiar ideas. Giants were just like normal folks, except for the size thing, and few other items. They had their own pride as well.

“Hullo Herk, seen Frud?”

“No Janet, I’m lookin’ for him too; we go fishing when we can.”

“Maw sen’ me ta fin him, he’s late, been gone mor’n a week naow.”

It took some translating for the message, she tended to use the rustic accents of the deep woods, and looked like a rustic as well. Her could-be pretty hair was tied in a tail, with some kind of leather thong, and the “dress” she had on was as shapeless and baggy as any work dress his mother had ever had. But, for all that, her face was certainly washed, and there was an air of – somehow gentleness about her that utterly belied the size of her person, as if a dainty lady had been somehow poured into this outsized vessel. What was he thinking? She had a beau somewhere, with huge muscles, and a short temper, and a wood club with rocks in it. Anyway, with his own sister, and female cousins, he knew how to speak to women more or less.

That Frud had been missing long enough for his mother, a very large and genial matron was worried enough to offend his pride to send someone looking for him was alarming. Together they looked at their respective sides of the river for sign. What was found wasn’t good. Frud had left his prize fishing pole leaning on a tree! He would never have done that, not willingly. There was an air of something wrong about the scene.

What he found made his blood run cold. It was a Devil Bird track. Devil Birds were the most feared thing to run afoul of, for they were ridden by Grab Slavers. The venom from the Birds, and that as well from the Grabbers would put most living creatures into a trance, for the D Birds it was an easy way to garner food, for their masters, more slaves for their mines, their forges, and also – when life was all but spent, for meat as well. All living beings had a mutual hatred of them, and would band together to help eliminate the threat. Even wars had ceased in the threat of them, and for good reason; where they had been not even trees existed for many years. Even Goblins hated them, and that was telling.

It was just a clear track, one footprint, but that was all that was needed; he sat down and made as accurate a copy as he could, with his limited skill, but every adult, or near adult, and many older children knew what to look for, and what not to. This was a typical footprint, three toed in front, with one in back, the claws shown as well, and the tree nearby was looking sick as well. They poisoned everything they came near. But a giant now, that would be a prize worth having, a huge slave, and much meat at the end of the year, should he live that long. It was time to track them as far as he could.

Explaining all this to Janet took some time, the mere mention of Devil Birds made her frightened beyond speech captive females had worse fates than males in that “society” – they were bred against their will for more slaves and meat. Suicide was a common result of capture. But he had to think of what to do to rescue his friend. Besides, a bunch of giant slaves would be a horrible thing to foist upon the world. It was only right, Frud had saved his life, now he had a chance to return the favor.