On the southwest coast of the island of Sofjorland, the cool morning air blew along the rocky shore. With a gentle touch, it bent the grass just back from the pebble beach at the water’s edge, bringing with it the scent of wet rock and the tang of salt water. The breeze passed through the branches of the pines gathered just beyond the grass, producing soft rustling sounds, punctuated by the occasional forlorn cry of a seabird. Over the peaceful scene, the sun, well on its way above the eastern horizon, began sharing its warmth with the new day.
It was approaching midsummer, the longest day of the year. The small waves slowly rolled in, lapping at the shore. The surface of the water was calm and almost glass-like, with its slight rippling as airflow, current and tidal forces competed to direct the water. Sitting on a log that they had dragged down onto the pebble beach at the shore’s edge, two young brothers held fishing poles. With their lines cast in the water, the two boys kept watchful eyes over the pieces of white painted bark they were using for floats.
Orn Avdlak was an average-sized boy for his age. At fourteen, he hadn’t yet filled out his slim, sprouting frame. With piercing, inquisitive grey eyes, he had a youthful face framed by raven black hair that reached his shoulders. Both boys wore garb typical of Halder villagers- tunics, dark blue pants, buckskin vests and deerskin boots stitched to hardened leather soles. However, whereas Orn’s tunic was sky blue, his older brother, Erik’s, was burgundy.
Erik was almost a year older at fifteen, with long, sandy blonde hair braided at the temples in imitation of their father. He had deep blue eyes in a face that wore a perpetual grin. Unlike his younger brother, he had a rather muscular frame from time spent helping in his father’s iron forge.
“What do you think we’ll catch?” asked Orn. The boys had sat out there fishing from sunup.
“Probably perch. I mean, those things are always active, and they eat anything that moves or smells.” His expression looked strained as he leaned over to the left. He struggled to stifle his laughter while he scooped air in his brother’s direction. “Speaking of smells.”
“URGH! Dammit Erik, I don’t want to breathe your air, let alone air, from your arse!”
Orn dropped his fishing pole and tackled Erik off the log. The boys wrestled on the ground. Orn, in his annoyance, was maintaining the upper hand, while Erik, who was significantly stronger, was struggling because he was laughing so hard. In his anger, the younger boy took a dig at his brother. “If Selti ever gets a sniff of your pants, she’ll want to marry someone else.”
Erik’s annoyance showed in his face as he fought his arm free and dug his fingers into Orn’s armpit. The younger boy’s face turned from anger to surprise, and then uncontrollable laughter as his brother had turned the tide by tickling him.
“All right, all right! Dammit. That’s no fair. Dirty arse and dirty tricks!” Orn said with a sullen tone, a sour expression on his face.
“All right, truce. But no more comments about Selti. It’s off limits.” He then raised himself to his knees and helped his brother up.
“Well, stop being dirty. I’m telling you, she won’t put up with it.”
“Shut up.”
Orn was still trying to maintain his annoyed expression, but it was clear he was on the verge of laughing. As they stood to collect themselves, Erik turned to his brother with a serious expression. “We better grab our poles before they get pulled in the water.”
Orn snorted and looked at Erik with a sly grin, a grin Erik returned as he realised his brother’s train of thought. His grin then turned sarcastic, as his brow furrowed. “Ha, ha, ha. You know what I meant. Father will brain us both if we lose them. Come on,” Erik said.
They dusted each other off, picked up their fishing poles, and sat back down. Erik wedged the back of his fishing pole between the ground and the log. He then reached into a satchel beside him, producing a hunk of brown rye bread from within. He gripped his fishing pole in the crook of his elbow, and using both hands, tore the bread, giving half to his brother. Then he gripped the pole with his free hand once more.
The brothers went back to watching their floats, looking for that telltale dunking movement of the bark that would show a likely bite, while taking bites of their own from their bread. After both boys had finished eating, Orn turned his face slightly toward his brother. “It’s been hours, Erik. How much longer should we wait? I don’t think there’s any fish around here.”
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Under normal circumstances, the fish would have shown some signs of interest in their baited hooks by now. “We’ll stay a little while longer and see what happens. I don’t want to go back empty-handed.”
Orn let out a small sigh, shrugged slightly and said, “Sure, a little longer.”
“Sure, a little longer,” Orn said, as he let out a small sigh and shrugged, turning his attention back to his float.
As he stared into the water, Orn saw below the surface a glowing silhouette. It appeared vaguely human shaped and seemed to hover a few feet below the surface. He nudged Erik, who looked at him. “Hm? What?”
Orn looked at his brother and asked, “What do you think that is?” pointing to the patch of water where he saw the strange object.
“Ah… it looks like water,” he said with a condescending smirk.
Orn’s eyes flitted back to the spot he pointed to, but what he saw had disappeared. “Huh. I swear I saw something glowing.”
“Probably just the sun reflecting.”
“I don’t know about that. It was beneath the surface.”
“Why don’t you dive in and get a closer look?”
Erik leaned in as if to grab Orn, who held up his hands defensively and said, “Hey, truce, remember!”
Erik laughed, turning his attention back to the tip of his fishing pole. Orn’s gaze swept back over the water, as he tried to remember the details of what he saw, but they eluded him. He was certain it had a human-like shape, and when he noticed it, he had an eerie feeling it was looking at him, though he couldn’t recall seeing any eyes. Just a luminescent blob that resembled a person. While he contemplated this strange occurrence, his attention drifted further out over the water.
About a hundred feet out, he saw some seabirds circling. Occasionally, one would dive into the water and return to the surface with a fish in its beak.
Near to the birds swam a pod of wyrmes, a kind of limbless sea dragon that can grow to twenty feet in length, covered in green to turquoise coloured scales with an enchanting shimmering pearl-like iridescence. Intelligent creatures, they were more of a nuisance to sailors than a danger. On whims known only to themselves they either helped or hindered a vessel’s journey over the sea.
Despite their fearsome appearance, they were herbivores, feeding on seaweed and kelp from the seabed. The group disappeared below the surface and reappeared several moments later, hundreds of feet further out to sea.
Orn glanced sideways and saw that his brother’s focus remained on the bark. Then, returning his gaze to where the sea birds were, an idea presented itself.
His eyes narrowed as he stared hard at the water. He envisioned the water beneath the sea birds moving gently but inexorably towards the shore. As his focus intensified, he felt a pressure in his mind as he concentrated on the water flow moving toward him, pulling water from further out to create a slipstream current. Seabirds that circling the school of fish suddenly leapt into flight, as they felt something amiss in the water beneath them.
Orn felt a tickle on his upper lip and touched his fingertips to it. When he looked at his fingertips, there was a small amount of blood there. He immediately wiped his nose with his hands and sniffed hard, trying to hide it from Erik.
When he looked at his hand, the blood had smeared, so he cast a quick glance at his brother. When he saw his brother still gazed at the piece of bark, he used the water in their fish pail to rinse his hand and face.
He was so focused on cleaning the blood from his face that when Erik suddenly whooped with excitement as he jerked his fishing pole upwards, Orn nearly fell off the log. This made him aware he had also hooked a fish. They wrestled, as the hooked fish fought against them to stay in the water. After several minutes, they each pulled in a decent-sized perch, landed them and placed them in the pail. The fish flopped around in the pail and splashed the water, but the boys didn’t notice, as they were busy focussing on baiting their hooks.
They cast their lines back into the water, flashing to each other broad smiles, their rod tips bending and flexing in time with their dunking bark floats. After hooking two more each in quick succession, both boys were breathing hard from the exertion of fighting the fish.
They both agreed they had caught enough, deciding to pack up for the morning. Five of the perch they had caught were of a decent size, but the last one that Erik caught was significantly larger than the others. “We should clean these before we head home, Orn. I mean, Mother will only make us do it anyhow. And if we do it here, our home won’t stink of fish,” said Erik.
“Good idea, then it will only stink of you.”
“Arsehole,” said Erik pushed Orn with his elbow, a mock scowl on his face as both boys chuckled.
“You should take the big one over to Selti and her mother.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Come on Erik, you can’t be that thick headed. It will impress her. Plus, a man is supposed to provide food for his family. That’s the impression you’ll give. A man who can feed a family.”
“All right, no need to be insulting. I could always improve your face with a fat lip. It’ll look good on you.”
“It might, but not as good as the one Father’ll give you when he sees it.”
Erik glared at his brother for several seconds, weighing the merits of risking his father’s wrath. Deciding to let it go, he shifted his focus back to the fish. “Anyway, let’s get these cleaned up.”
They scaled, gutted and cleaned the fish, rinsing them in the sea. However, the pail they had brought wasn’t big enough to contain the fish. They emptied the water out and then, using a thin four-foot-long stick, threaded the fish through the gills to carry them home. They gathered up their gear, hoisted the stick on their shoulders, and headed back to their village.