The Dead God Series Collection

Chapter 3-2

‘No wonder you’ve never made it out of your village, if that’s how you’ve been brought up to think.’ Gwilym regarded the young man walking next to him. ‘People aren’t logical, and most things in life aren’t clear-cut. There could be any number of reasons why they didn’t continue to build the road, but then think laterally: why did they bother to extend the road beyond the confines of the village in the first place, if they knew there was nothing to the north?’

‘Errm.’

‘See!’ Gwilym jumped in before Torben could gather his thoughts. ‘No logic behind it, is there? Which makes me think that there’s something of interest and potential profit for anyone savvy enough to go and sniff around.’

Torben thought hard, trying to come up with a response, but he couldn’t deny the logic of the dwarf. He took in the scenery they were passing through. By now, the two of them were deep into the woods and the path was becoming rougher and more unkempt by the foot.

The bright summer’s day felt murky as a thick cover of foliage reduced light to a more gloomy, emerald hue. The only noises that cut through the dense silence were the sounds of Gwilym and Torben’s boots crunching along the dirt path, the occasional caws and trills of birds flitting between trees, and the rustling of four-legged creatures in the brush.

Torben didn’t like woods. Having spent the majority of his life in open fields, so being deep in woodland was intensely claustrophobic. As he walked along, Torben’s eyes constantly darted left and right, scanning the undergrowth. Gwilym, on the other hand, didn’t seem phased by the change in scenery. He was whistling under his breadth and there was a definite spring to his step. Being back in the wilds had obviously improved his mood.

‘Is there anything, dangerous, in these woods, do you think?’ Torben was trying to make his voice sound calm, but there was a distinctive quaver in his tone.

‘There are a lot of things in the wilder places of the world that could harm you … wolves, bears … hell, I’ve had wild boars come at me in the past … especially if you get in-between them and their bairns.’ He smiled dryly. ‘Though you never know when locals might band together and jump a passing traveller for the sake of a few coins. One time I passed through a village that had never heard of my folk, let alone seen a dwarf—aye, even more backward than your lot. I arrived in the evening, after everyone in the local tavern had had several ales, so they welcomed me graciously. I had as much food as I could eat and as much drink as I could sup. Never had to spend a single penny. I woke up the next morning, expecting the situation to be the same, and was ready for a spot of breakfast. To my surprise, I was met by an angry mob who tied me up and threw me in the Well.’

He chuckled to himself. ‘I found out later the people in that village—Hamden, Horden, Harden?—had a folktale about a little man that lived in the Well, and the tale ran that if he emerged and walked around the village at night, he should be showered with gifts, well fed, and treated like a king. However, if the little man appeared during the daytime, he needed to be thrown back into the Well, or else the village would be struck with bad luck for the rest of the year. I’ve no idea how the tale came to life or if they had ever seen a dwarf before, but that damn fairy story nearly cost me my life. Two days I was stuck down that wellspring before I was able to climb up and escape! The b****y villagers placed a guard up top to make sure I wouldn’t get out and eat their children, or whatever it was that the little man was supposed to do.’

little manittle manHe shook his head and shrugged. ‘At one point, I thought the situation was going to turn south when we were leaving your homestead but, thankfully, they weren’t quite as backwards as these other folk. Not that that’s saying very much … but, then again, the villagers you come across are normally the least of your worries. There are a number of other creatures and folks that can spell trouble. A lot of cruel, heartless folk lurk by the roadside and roam the wilds. Sadly, there are decidedly more of them wandering about than there used to be.’ Gwilym looked at Torben, who’d turned decidedly pale. ‘I’m sure there’s nothing like that in these woods though. It seems very quiet, in a good way that is, peaceful and tranquil—aye that’s the word, tranquil!’

tranquilAlthough Gwilym had brought Torben out of his comfort zone purposefully, with the aim of trying to win himself another trinket, the young man was starting to grow on him and, despite the fact that he was still very wet behind the ears, he couldn’t help but respect him for following through with the wager. Most of the time when he challenged small-minded country-folk to brave the wilds, they didn’t turn up the next morning, or surrendered their money to the dwarf without a fight when he came to collect payment. They were more concerned with getting rid of the stranger than questioning the validity of the wager. If they did meet with the dwarf, they rarely lasted more than an hour before becoming overly nervous and scurrying home—with a little encouragement from Gwilym himself.

Torben looked uneasy, but Gwilym didn’t think that he would bolt anytime soon; the lad was made of sterner stuff than the majority of village-folk he’d met. If nothing else, the lad would make this a slightly more challenging fleece than he’d previously tried to pull.

Silence fell again upon the pair as they continued up the path. By now, the sun was well on its way towards its midday zenith, and the temperature had started to rise under the smothering canopy of leaves. The path had begun to climb steeply up the valley and the laboured breathing of the travellers grew louder.

The path continued its ascent for another forty minutes, until the sharp pitch of the incline suddenly relaxed, allowing Gwilym and Torben respite. The two stopped and leaned heavily against a tree that had rooted itself across the path, and caught their breaths.

‘We must be reaching the top of the dale. Look, the path up ahead is levelling out.’ Torben peered through the gloom, trying to glean more to report about the way forwards. ‘It’s running out by the looks of it.’

The woods were impinging more and more onto the path, and looked completely overgrown in places. The track, for the most part, was now just a bald strip of dirt.

‘Keep your eyes peeled, Torben. If there’s going to be anything of interest around, it’ll be up here.’ Gwilym set off again and Torben followed directly behind.

It was hard work determining where the path was leading; in some places, the track disappeared altogether, and they had to rely on the spotting of bald patches of dirt further up the hillside. When the path finally did level out, it brought them to a circular clearing in the woods. Around the edges of the clearing, a couple of tall and sturdy oak trees had taken up residence, their long gnarled branches invading the clearing, almost as if they were straining to keep the light from the ground. All the trees looked very old and it seemed to Torben that they were probably the oldest things that he’d ever set eyes on. He could easily imagine them glowering down from the hillside on the first settlers as they arrived in Burndale all those years ago.

‘Here we are, end of the line. You know, after what you said last night, I was hoping that there’d be a pot of gold here, or a feast laid out and waiting for a curious traveler.’ Torben was feeling very smug. He’d told the dwarf that it wasn’t worth following the track and now he was a sack of gold richer for Gwilym’s naive optimism.

To Torben’s disappointment, however, Gwilym wasn’t listening, but had instead set off across the clearing and was poking around the far bushes.

‘What you doing? I said there’s nothing up here. You might as well pay up now and be done with this little adventure. There’s nothing but trees here, common garden trees, no treasure, no riches, no gold, just boring trees!’ Torben waited for a second, hoping that the dwarf would respond, but he continued investigating the bushes.

Torben was becoming exasperated; he’d enjoyed a nice stroll with Gwilym, but now victory had presented itself and he wanted to be off backdown the hill with his coin. He wanted to enjoy a good hearty meal before he was obliged to traipse back to Amos’ farm and work. He was about to launch into another observation of the tree-dominated hillside when Gwilym let out a small cheer and dived into the brush.

Torben ran across the clearing, fearing that the dwarf was giving him the slip, and abandoning him without paying him his due. When he reached the point where Gwilym had disappeared, the dwarf emerged from the undergrowth, grinning from ear to ear.

‘Nothing up here, he says. How wrong you were, my lad!’ Gwilym beckoned Torben to follow and left the clearing again.

To Torben’s surprise, the track continued on the other side of the clearing and led into the woods, where it stopped at the base of a dilapidated stone tower that rose towards the canopy of the trees. The tower was covered in thick moss and spiralling ivy, effectively allowing it to blend in with the surrounding growth, and it looked as if it had abandoned for quite some time. At the base of the tower was a large wooden door with a simple latch. Gwilym was tugging at it.

‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ Torben exclaimed, staring at the tower, his mouth hanging open.

‘Now do you appreciate what I was talking about? Consider this as an education in the wonders of the world, Torben! I like to think that today I have opened your eyes.’ Gwilym grunted as he pulled the door latch. ‘b****y thing is rusted shut. Give me a hand with this, will you?’

Torben, now as enthusiastic to explore as Gwilym, helped him with the door. Gwilym’s efforts had only opened the door a couple of inches, but with Torben pushing as well, they managed to make a gap wide enough to enter.

The door hinges squealed as it opened and flecks of rust flew off, testament to the amount of time that they’d been unused. Gwilym squeezed through the gap first and Torben followed, barely managing to fit his broad frame through the threshold.

The interior of the tower was dim. The walls were studded with small windows along its whole length, so it was just about light enough to see without the aid of a torch. The only thing immediately visible to Gwilym and Torben was a spiral staircase. They looked at one another and then began to climb.

‘I don’t suppose you know of any reason why someone would have built a watchtower up here?’ The dwarf’s voice bounced and echoed in the small interior.

‘No idea. No one in the village knows that it’s here. Or at least no one in living memory knew of it.’

‘Hmm, interesting. Do you have any folktales about invaders or wars in your village?’