Advent Letters: Year Eight, Letter Three

Last week, we left your dad and uncles in a precarious situation. They were floating on a small platform in the middle of an abyss, while a swarm of bird monsters gathered for a final attack on them.

As Brian and his brothers stood firmly on their circles, however, Brian noticed something. The platform was moving faster. It also seemed to be balancing the boys’ different weights on its own.

The swarm of Stymphalian birds was not so large that it looked like a dark cloud. It rolled toward the Mellema brothers in a raucous cacophony of squawking and cawing.

Jer fired arrow after arrow at the swarm as quickly as he could. For a moment, it looked like he was losing his angle on the front of the swarm. But then the platform rotated on its own so that Jer still had a clean shot. When the swarm got close enough for Brian to swing his hammer at them, the platform dropped and rose to accommodate each hammer swing. And when the remnants of the swarm made it through to Matt’s sword and shield, the platform constantly spun so that Matt’s blade was always slicing a bird, and his shield was always protecting himself or his brothers.

Feet rooted in their circles, the brothers and the platform all fell into harmony. The swarm stopped being overwhelming, and started being manageable. Before long, the birds’ attacks were getting less frequent. With his best battle cry, Matt sliced a final bird.

”Is that it?” Matt asked, panting. “Have we won?”

A dim white sun peeked from beyond the mist, revealing the other side of the canyon. Jer shielded his eyes and scanned for more birds.

They were all gone.

Brian raised his arms in the air. If he wasn’t making a point to keep both feet planted in his circle, he would have danced. The brothers started picking out a landing spot on the far side of the canyon. 

That’s when a pulse of cold air wafted up from below. 

After the pulse came a low rumble. Like a great mound of earth rolling to life. Brian peered crept to the end of his thin tether. Gulping, he peered into the murky deep below.

Another pulse of air, followed by a beat like a giant drum. Then another, and another. The clouds below congealed into a dark something below the surface. Something of monstrous size.

A shriek radiated from the depths. The brothers covered their ears at the piercing volume of it. Then, in a tidal wave of cloud and air, the creature emerged from the mist.

The pounding of its great wings sent the boys’ platform spinning in the turbulence. Brian had to regain his balance before he got a good look at the creature.

His brain couldn’t process what he saw. He wondered if his eyes were playing tricks on him.

It’s a little known fact among scholars of Faerie that the Stymphalian birds as we know them are not the fully-grown version of the species. The birds continue to grow throughout their long lifespans. Because of their warlike and aggressive nature, however, the vast majority never grow to full maturity. The very few that do, however, reach breathtaking size.

Throughout the Near East and Central Asia, these ancient Stymphalian birds were given a name: Roc.

How large was the Roc? It could swoop and snatch an elephant the same way a hawk could snatch a mouse. Your grandparents’ entire home could comfortably ride on its back. And as this Roc ascended through the air, its wings blocked out the pale sun.

Necks craned toward the sky, the brothers gaped at the monster.

“What should we do now?” Matt asked. His face was pale.

”Maybe nothing. We’re so much smaller, maybe it’ll just ignore us.” Jer said.

”Maybe,” Matt said. He looked at his sword, still dripping with the blood of the Stymphalian birds.

Jer’s optimism didn’t last. High above, the Roc stopped its ascent. Like a battleship in the air, it turned back to the canyon.

Right toward the Mellema brothers. 

The Roc folded its great wings against its body and pointed its beak, the size of a skyscraper’s spire, directly at the boys’ platform. Jer fired arrows at it. But they bounced off the Roc with no effect. Matt positioned his shield in the path of the Roc’s beak. He hoped that, somehow, he could slash his sword at the moment of impact. But that would be little more than a paper cut for the Roc.

Brian, meanwhile, stared at his war hammer. He had already grown it as large as he dared. The warhammer’s head was the size of a Volkswagen, and its handle the length of a basketball pole. This was already throwing off the balance of the platform. But would it be enough to hurt this monster?

As Brian wondered, the Roc continued its dive.

”Hold on!” Matt shouted.

The Roc fell through the air like a meteor. The whole sky became nothing but the dark feathers of the bird.

Just as Brian was bracing for impact, the platform itself leapt swiftly into the air. It avoided the Roc’s beak. The tree-sized tail feathers, however, still clipped the platform, sending it careening to the side. The brothers barely kept their balance in the whirling tumble.

By the time the brothers finally staggered to their feet, the Roc was looping around for another charge.

”We can’t survive another one of those,” Matt said.

”And just think if our platform can’t dodge in time,” Jer added. “We’ll be knocked into oblivion.”

Matt and Jer hung their heads. Their weapons hung at their sides.

Brian, meanwhile, had finally made up his mind. He raised his chin and spoke. “I’ll hit it with my hammer on the next charge.”

”Won’t do any good,” Matt said. “It’ll barely even feel it.”

”I’ll grow my hammer until it’s big enough to hurt it,” Brian said. “It’s the only way.”

”But we’ll all fly off the platform when you swing it,” Matt protested.

”Our tethers will hold us,” Brian said. “At least, I think they will.”

Matt held up the thin strand of tether in disbelief. Jer held up his chin.

”Brian’s right. It’s the only way.”

Matt gave another look at the tether before turning toward the Roc.

”Okay. Grow the hammer as big as you can get it. Jer and I will just..”

”Stand fast,” Jer said.

Both brothers planted their feet and brandished their weapons.

Brian, meanwhile, started something he’d wanted to try ever since he’d gotten his warhammer. He would grow it as large as he could. He could feel the enchantment pulse through his body into the war hammer. By the time the Roc reached its apex, the warhammer’s head was the size of an RV. By the time the Roc began its dive, it was the size of an office building. As the Roc careened at full speed toward the brother’s platform, the warhammer’s head was the size of a city block. 

The platform tried adjusting to the extra weight, but Matt and Jer still had to cling to their tethers to keep their footing. In the moments before impact, the platform started spinning to give Brian extra momentum.

Brian gave his loudest battle cry as he held the spinning hammer, now the size of a mountain, by the handle. The Roc gave its own piercing shriek as it focused its razor beak at the platform. With every effort of his scrawny muscles, Brian swung the hammer.

The collision of Roc and hammer created a pulse of energy. Brian became vaguely aware of a rushing roar in his ears. He caught sight of the Roc’s battered body falling limp into the mist. Brian realized that his own body had been thrown from the platform and was sailing through the air. 

The tethers held. 

Despite the force of the collision and the velocity of the Mellemas, all three tethers held firm. They stretched to bring the boys to a gradual stop, and then reeled them back to the anchor. Soon, all three brothers were back safely on the platform. They allowed themselves a moment to dance and hug and jump up and down. Then they each returned to their circles and stood fast.