Shard of the Sun

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

Broderick threw some herbs into the pot over the fire and stirred it with a small spoon. The night air was warm and the light of the moon reflected off the clear waters of the Paddleford Lake. His home was built on the edge of it. The lake was in the center of the woods at the base of a large mountain. There weren’t many people that lived near the lake. The house had been in Broderick’s family for as long as anyone could remember and was passed down through the generations.

Broderick’s parents had died of disease several years earlier. He was almost twenty-three, with short blonde hair and large, bright green eyes. He was a few inches short of six feet, with broad shoulders and strong, corded muscles. He earned a living cutting down trees and selling the wood.

He leaned in close to the pot and smelled the soup. It made his mouth water. He hadn’t eaten since noon and he was starving. He grabbed a cloth and pulled the pot off the fire. He quickly poured its contents into a wooden bowl before he burned his hand. A loud explosion that sounded like thunder startled him. A flash of light in the sky caught his attention and Broderick watched as it streaked across the heavens. His eyes widened in shock as he realized the streaking light was coming in his direction.

Before he could make up his mind as to what direction he should run, the light came roaring over his house and splashed into the lake. A wave of heat washed over him and he cringed back. The water sizzled and bubbled where the object had hit. A strange light shone from the water, which made Broderick curious. “Might be a fallen star,” he said excitedly to himself. He could sell it for a high price in the market. His parents had found one when he was a boy and made a small fortune.

The more he thought about it, the more excited he got. He quickly stripped down to his loincloth and waded out into the water. The lake was roughly twenty feet at its deepest spot. When Broderick reached the point where he had to stand on the tip of his toes, he breathed in deep and dove down into the water. With the moon shining unhindered, Broderick could easily see through the clear water.

He spotted where the light was shining and went up for air. After another deep breath, he swam down to the lake floor and began to swim closer. As he neared what he assumed was a meteorite, the water became noticeably warmer. The light was beginning to dim, so he swam faster. He didn’t want to lose sight of it.

Broderick reached the spot and could feel the pressure in his lungs building. He needed to breathe, but he didn’t want to risk losing the rock. He grabbed at the fading light and a searing pain shot through his flesh. He tried to cry out but got a mouthful of water instead. He clutched the stone tightly and began to choke. He panicked and pushed off the floor of the lake to try to reach the surface. The burning in his lungs intensified as he sucked in more water.

The thought occurred to him that he was probably going to die. In the middle of the lake out in the wilderness where no one would even know he was gone. No one to mourn his passing.

As he broke the surface of the water, he began sputtering water out and trying to gasp in air. He could no longer feel the stone in his hand; the flesh was numb. Somehow, he managed to navigate to the shore. He crawled on his hands and knees to the cooking fire before he lost consciousness.

—

Broderick awoke to the sound of birds chirping. He was lying face down and his head felt like it was going to explode. He grunted as he pushed himself up off the ground and stood on shaky legs. It was morning. The woods were alive with the sounds of animals and a light breeze had the trees swaying. His fire had died sometime during the night. His bowl was where he left it, the soup long since cold.

He looked around dazedly. Then he remembered. The shooting star, his swim and subsequent almost drowning incident. Where was that rock, anyway? He saw it next to the ring of rocks that surrounded his cooking fire. He retrieved it and held it up in the air. It wasn’t a rock. At least, not one he’d ever seen before. It was clear like a crystal, flat, and smooth. It was small and easily fit in the palm of his hand.

That’s when he noticed his hand. The skin was completely gone. The muscle lay bare and unprotected. Here and there it looked like the bone was showing. Surprisingly he felt no pain. He could move his fingers and even grabbed a stick to see if it hurt to use the hand. Nothing. It was as if the skin wasn’t even missing.

After starting another fire and warming his soup, he ate and went about his normal morning routine. He had almost filled his wagon with enough wood to sell at the market the day before. He had one more tree to cut and then he could travel to Myrwood to sell the lumber. He grabbed his ax and went to work, cutting along the measured lines he had made yesterday. His hand still did not bother him. As the day went by, he didn’t even bother to check his hand. Noon came and went by the time he finished his task. He was walking toward the lake to wash up when he saw something fall from a nearby tree.

He walked over and saw a baby bird lying dead on the ground. “Poor little thing,” he muttered to himself. He knelt down and picked up the lifeless creature with his disfigured hand and dug a small hole with his other. He was about to place the dead bird into the hole when he felt it move. He watched in amazement as the baby bird stood up in his hand. “You weren’t dead after all,” he said. “Just a little stunned. Let’s get you back in your nest.” He looked up into the tree to see how high the nest was. Unfortunately, it was just out of his reach.

He gently placed the bird in a leather pouch on his waist and climbed the tree. He reached the branch with the nest and placed the bird back in it. “No more suicide attempts,” he told the bird. Then he climbed back down. He went inside his house to get a towel and some fresh clothes. He would need to be at least somewhat presentable if he was going to do business in Myrwood. As he was going through his clothes trying to decide what to wear, he noticed a large shadow pass by his window. He glanced out the window but didn’t see anything.

He was about to go back digging through his clothes when he saw another shadow pass by. And another. And another. He walked over to the window and his eyes widened in terror. An oversized hand smashed through the window and tried to grab him.

Broderick barely leaped back in time to avoid being crushed. The hand disappeared and then he saw several large forms that resembled men standing outside his home. “Giants!” he breathed in amazement. His parents had often told him tales of giants who lived on the mountain. As a child, the tales were exciting. As he grew older, he doubted the truth of them and eventually stopped humoring his parents.

Yet here were a few of them. They were each carrying what appeared to be a club, though to Broderick they seemed more like small trees. One of them brought his club forward into the wall and it crashed in on itself. Broderick cursed and ran out of his house, narrowly avoiding a club that came bashing down through the ceiling. He grabbed his ax off the porch as he leaped down the stairs. Those creatures were tearing up his house for reasons he couldn’t begin to fathom.

Broderick turned to look back and saw the giants were coming straight for him. They were slow, lumbering creatures, but with their elongated legs, they traveled long distances. He guessed they were all at least twelve feet in height except one. He was slightly taller than the others and wore a cape made from the fur of the mountain lions that inhabited the region. Broderick had no idea what to do. He certainly couldn’t outrun them. He would tire long before he reached any civilized lands that could defend against them. He looked to the wagon. His horses were attached and ready for travel. He wouldn’t be able to free them before the giants killed him.

The taller one said something that Broderick didn’t understand. His voice was like the rumbling of boulders that occasionally tumbled down the mountain. They all ceased walking and just stared at him. If he were going to run, now was the time. He turned and fled. He got several yards before he risked glancing back at them. They were all still standing still. Just as he was turning his gaze back around, he saw that one of the giants started after him.

“Crap!” he growled. He ran faster, pumping his legs furiously. A loud screeching noise filled the air. It sounded like a bird, but he didn’t have to time wonder at the sound. His mind raced with places he could try to hide. They all seemed stupid. The giant was quickly closing on him. His lungs and muscles were already starting to burn. He was breathing too heavily to keep his pace much longer. He heard a crash behind him and looked just in time to see the giant swinging its club in a wide arc. Broderick was lucky enough to avoid the bone-crushing blow. The giant tried to stomp down on him, but he changed direction and sprinted toward the lake.

Without thinking he leaped straight into the water. The water felt cool on his flesh. He dived under and swam as fast as his legs could kick. He felt the water surge around him as the giant followed him into the lake. Broderick came up for air and heard a ruckus where the other giants were but didn’t bother to look. The giant that followed him raised its club to pound him.

Broderick sucked in his breath and dove under the water. The force of the giant’s blow was lessened by the water, but when it struck him it still hurt like hell. It reminded him of the time a tree fell the wrong way and slammed into him. Had he been struck outside the water, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be dead. By some grace, he was still alive. The air had been knocked from him and he struggled to get above the water. He broke the surface expecting to see the club bearing down on him. Instead, he saw the giant swatting at something around its face with its free hand.

Broderick painfully wiped the water from his eyes and was about to swim away when he spotted several birds swooping in to claw at the giant’s face. The giant roared angrily in pain and kept trying to slap the pesky creatures away. Broderick glanced in the direction of the other giants and found them in the same situation. Birds of all species and sizes were swooping down and attacking the humanoid creatures. The giant in the water managed to hit a few out of the air, but more took their place. The sky seemed to come alive as at least a hundred birds took flight from the trees and joined in the battle.

Broderick noticed that where the giant was standing the water only came up to its ankles. In his panicked state, he had almost forgotten that he still had his ax. It seemed like a suicidal idea, but he decided to use the distraction of the birds to launch his own attack on the giant. He swam back toward the giant, easing slowly closer to make sure he didn’t get stepped on. The thought of birds coming to his rescue seemed odd to him, but he didn’t question his luck.

Broderick hefted his ax up and drew it back as he would chop at a tree. He was about to swing it when he noticed multiple puss-filled sores on the giant’s left ankle. Apparently, the creature must have stepped in some toxic plants. He smirked as he struck a powerful blow to the giant’s infected flesh. The ax cleaved right through the flesh, spilling puss and blood into the water. The giant’s roar was louder up close. Birds swarmed around its face, scratching and pecking.

Broderick struck the giant’s ankle again. Flesh and tendons separated from one another and the giant’s leg crumpled under its weight. The giant fell backward into the lake, water splashing everywhere and waves rolling across the surface. Broderick tried to get out of the lake, but the waves slammed into him, pushing him off his feet. They also pushed him onto the shore. He scrambled to his feet and turned to see the giant thrashing around in the water. The creature fell into the deeper area of the lake and couldn’t seem to drag itself out of the water. The birds didn’t help either. They kept diving in at its face.

He looked back toward the other giants. They were gone, leaving an obvious path of destruction in their flight from the birds. He made his way back to his house. With danger gone, his mind was free to wonder what had happened. He considered the tales of his parents and wondered how they knew about the giants. Had they seen them before? If so, how had they survived? Without the miraculous help of the birds, he would be dead right now.

As he approached his damaged house, he noticed the baby bird sitting at the edge of its nest. It appeared to be staring at him. There was something in the bird’s eyes that unnerved him. Something … intelligent, knowing. Did that bird call the others?

“Of course, it didn’t,” he said aloud. “It’s just a bird.” He didn’t bother changing clothes but did bring them with him. He found his wagon some ways down the path. The giants had obviously spooked the horses and they fled. The weight of the wagon and the wood, however, kept them from going very far. He climbed onto the bench and took the leather reins in both hands, looping them under his pinkie finger and up through his fist before draping them over the thumbs of both hands. He gently flicked them and said, “Go.”

The horses seemed to calm at his command and obeyed immediately, pulling the heavy wagon down the worn path. The horses were a gift from his cousin a year ago. His cousin had termed them ‘Brabants’. Massive beasts, they stood a little over fifteen hands high. Their heads were relatively small when compared to their necks, which were thick and muscular. Their shoulders, quarters, and upper body were heftily built and spoke volumes about their strength.

Their legs were small but thick and only slightly feathered towards the bottom. If it weren’t for the huge demand of lumber, he would never be able to afford them. They each ate over forty pounds of combined grain and hay and drank up to eighteen gallons of water a day. He was thankful to live near a lake. Thinking about the horses brought his cousin to mind. Broderick missed him. His cousin was a wealthy landowner and farmed honeysuckle.

Broderick looked back to ensure the giants had not returned. He didn’t see or hear anything out of the ordinary. If the giant in the water didn’t get itself out of the lake, it would be long dead by the time he got back from Myrwood. His cousin was in for quite a story, indeed. He leaned his back against the wagon and made himself comfortable. He reached into his leather pouch and pulled the rock out. In a few hours, he would reach the city of Myrwood. In a few hours, he would be as rich as his cousin.