Giants Don't Fly
A short story about slaying giants
A thick tree in the middle of Theislea Oak was an ant compared to the bulbous monstrosity slouching in front of Mikah. Tuesdays suck he said under his breath.
Mikah wasn’t used to the daily Giant bashing that his mint certification badge had granted him. Two years of boring text, mind-route training, and weapons handling all amounted to this: wishing it was the weekend so that he could make pasta, destroy Talon in chess, and sleep in after a hefty dose of apple ale. No matter what gig, a job is a job is a job.
Might as well clock out early, Mikah thought.
The Giant of North Windlam let out a growl that smelled like grape jelly and old fish. Mikah left his position at the base of the mountain before his eyebrows got seared off. A handprint shadowed the ground and came crashing down on a ridged tip. The rocks trembled as the Giant yelped. One of the first rules Mikah learned in the Axom Center was that “quickness is key when defending yourself from a tree”. By tree, of course, Instructor Tambo meant a Giant – enchanted trees were the training dummies of choice.
Mikah stabbed a lumpy big toe and used the inner kneecap to bounce from leg to leg. He held position, clinched the handle of his grater, and waited for Big Head’s arm to rotate. Mikah leapt up and grabbed the curly fringe of the Giant’s wrist. By the time Mikah got to the Giant’s shoulder, another slow-moving swipe missed him terribly. Mikah was very unimpressed. Last week’s schedule was much more fun.
An uneasy walk over to the back of Big Head’s neck later and Mikah was at the kill switch. The point of contact was called the Krek-Blow, also known as the most fragile area of a giant’s body that when struck, causes said Giant to pass out for six to eight hours. Tambo compared the Krek to the fleshy part on the back of your ankle, except on your brain. The Giant would be severely hurt but could recover with time.
Any sort of killing was forbidden in the countryside, so much to the point that public sword use was restricted for those not of policing or hunting status.
Mikah raised his blade to the heavens, amazed at how easygoing this Giant had been. Big Head was by far the mellowest target he ever had. The Giant let out a deep breath as the grater plunged. Mikah used a straight back and extended arms, just as he learned at the Center. At the very last moment before unconsciousness, the Giant made a startling move. It quickly turned its head, exposing its neck to the striking blade. Before Mikah could stop, the grater was already completely enveloped in the Giant’s flesh, far left of the Krek. A second later, Mikah was falling with the Giant, using the Giant’s back as a shield to the rocky ground below.
After the massive collision, Mikah stood up and slid off the hard breathing body. The boy was in shock. He had to register the kill immediately according to protocol and stay with the body until Axom showed up. He walked over to the Giant’s head and watched the peaceful beast rest its eyes.
A slight whisper came from its mouth, which to Mikah, was like a howling gust of wind.
“Thhankkk… youuuu…” it said. Mikah, puzzled as the day he was born, dropped his journal. Whatever the Giant had been tasked with, whether it was raiding, brush clearing, or simple human gathering, Mikah imagined that maybe the Giant had had enough.
Mikah picked up the journal and pulled out the quill in his pocket. He began to write.
A job is a job is a job.
Illustration Snippets
Here's a few process shots when I was coming up with the Illustration.
I had a lot of fun doing this post! Let me know if you would like to see more like this.
Thanks for your time,
Nico