12 – To Kill a Giant

It’s been five days since we left Niu, and at the dawn of the sixth, I’ve decided to finally begin working on my bird-killer project.

Kornos had offered up some suggestions. A big fuck-off cannon. A big fuck-off sword.

I wanted to object, but considering the target, they weren’t awful ideas.

“What if we just set it on fire?” he suggested.

I nodded sagely. ‘Burn it to death’ was always a valid strategy. If your problems couldn’t be solved by burning something to the ground, then you weren’t trying hard enough.

“But how are we supposed to do that? It’s suicide to get close to that thing, not to mention the wind would put out any fires,” I contemplated out loud. Kornos shrugged and said he’d let me handle it, before he ran off to go explore some more, launching himself from the edge of the boat straight towards a distant island.

As an aside, the crabs no longer repopulated our beach. They had gotten the message to stay away once they saw the crushed remains of crabs mounted on wooden poles.

My thoughts returned to the problem at hand. If close-range weaponry was out, then that only left long-range weapons, and traps. The latter had potential, as we had observed the Crimson King occasionally landing to catch prey. The issue with that was the fact that we would have to arrive, clear out, and lay traps within its territory without being spotted. A daunting task, considering its apparent keen sight and preternatural speed.

So, that option was out, for the moment. That left ranged weaponry. While thaumaturgy could allow for ranged weaponry all on its own, a delivery method drastically increased efficiency and efficacy. The less work the thaum had to put in to reach the target, the more work it could do once it arrived.

No guns – we lacked metalworking tools and equipment. Those things required a level of precision we simply could not reach in this environment. Bows and crossbows. The latter would be tougher to create, but more accurate. The former lacked power but made up in reload speed. We needed to finish the fight as soon as possible, so crossbows it was. Plus, if I could infuse an arrow with a particularly nasty combination of thaums, ending the fight with a single shot wasn’t impossible.

In short, I needed to craft a powerful, accurate bow and at least one arrow with devastating effects.

While I wasn’t bowyer, thaumaturgy allowed alterations to objects and materials to make them suitable for whatever purpose was needed. Don’t have a proper string for a bow? Infuse a length of twine and suddenly it had the elasticity of a proper bowstring. Which was what I did, in this case. For the bow itself, I had Kornos whittle a suitable branch we had cut down from a tree into a proper shape, then infused it.

In less than an hour, we had a functionally adequate bow. Unfortunately, this meant I had to augment the strength and precision of the archer in some other way. It would take a toll, both physical and in terms of resources, to use, but it was what it was. As a bonus, we could sell those pieces of equipment later, or use them for ourselves once we got proper firearms.

Actually, they probably wouldn’t sell guns to teenagers. I’d have to make sure to profit enough from this expedition so I could bribe a few officials.

Anyways! The equipment. Enhancements worked best when they were near wherever it was they were enhancing. Boots for feet, armband for arm strength, earring for hearing. For the eyes, I had a spare pair of glasses in my kit. Dad had once said the girls liked a man in glasses, so I carried them around, even if I didn’t end up wearing them.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

The lenses I infused with farsights, a blend of seek, connection, weapon, and alignment. It was a shockingly viable piece of thaumaturgy. I honestly had expected it to explode halfway through fusing the individual parts.

It granted an – admittedly mild – intuitive sense of where your projectiles would land. It didn’t grant perfect aim, but it took in a number of factors such as personal experience and knowledge to intuit flight paths. The more familiar you were with the weapon and the environment, the more accurate the intuition. The drawback was that it strained the mind to use. After only a few test shots, my I felt like I had just finished staying up all night to study. My brain was fried and felt sluggish.

As for the strength enhancements for drawing the bow, I went with something similar to the boots, but with more fine control. Measured brawn. Controlled strength. Those went on a pair bracers fashioned out of canvas and tree bark. Not the most elegant of materials, but it would have to do. Just as the boots, these would leave the user strained and fatigued.

Note to self: Thaumaturgy exercise equipment? Possible side business.

The final piece were the arrows and their infusions. Like the bow, I had Kornos carve a dozen of them. They were crude but serviceable. The arrowheads were made from the bones of skychasers.

As for the infusion, I immediately ruled out simply enhancing the penetrating power. Instead, I would use them as a delivery mechanism for debilitating and deadly effects. Poison, explosives, fire, etc.

Like mom said, “Son, if you have to fight, don’t give them the chance to fight back. Hit them once, and hit them hard enough that they don’t get back up.”

She was a gentle soul, but had very little tolerance for antagonism. Pity the man who accosts my mother. The neighborhood boys tried to bully me. Once. They learned just as quick as the crabs did.

Eventually, I settled on a combination of thaums that made my skin crawl just thinking about what it could do.

Blazing poison, a flame that spread through the blood, burning the body from within. I was absolutely certain that if I was found out in public with a thaum like this, I would get thrown in prison in a heartbeat. A potent weapon, but it took time to take effect, time that we would be using to flee for our lives, most likely.

I ended up infusing four arrowheads with it. Kornos was warned extensively not to touch them, even accidentally. The rest of the arrows were infused with thaums of durability.

It was decided that Kornos would be the archer. His strength and coordination were far above mine, which was fine by me. We each had our own strengths and weaknesses. He spent the last hour of the day practicing his archery on the beach, first getting used to the bow, then using the glasses in tandem.

Sleep was difficult for me to come by. I was filled with a nervous energy, and perhaps a hint of anticipation.

***

“So, are we really just going to shoot at it then run away?” Kornos asked in disbelief. Yesterday I had told him I had a plan of action and that I would fill him in later, which was less than a minute ago.

“You’re forgetting the part where we lure it in,” I said as we walked through a quaint island forest. Quaint, if you didn’t find the absence of sounds of life disturbing on a primal level.

Kornos rolled his eyes. “Right.” He sighed. “Whatever, let’s just get this over with.”

We came to a stop and stared up at the island that marked the beginning of the Crimson King’s apparent territory. There was nothing special about it, aside from the fact that it was floating and whatnot. We had only seen the bird fly out this far twice, and it hadn’t even slowed down as it passed, but we still decided to mark it as part of its lands.

This was it. Once we landed on that rock, we would be one mistake away from death. Hesitation would lead to an early grave, as would poor judgement.

I leapt first, Kornos trailing only a moment after. Adjustments made mid-flight, and I landed on my feet, letting the boots redistribute the kinetic force of the impact away from my legs and back towards the ground a fraction of a second later. The result was a heavy, satisfying double-thud that shook the topsoil. My legs had the faintest of strain, so I took a moment to shake them out and massage them.

Kornos had his bow out, reinforced arrow in hand, quiver at his side. My knife was drawn, ready for anything.

Ever so faint, in the distance, was the cry of a bird, the sound distorted by its intense speeds as it flew closer and farther away.