The Dead God Series Collection

Chapter 3-3

Torben thought for a moment ‘No, none. Why?’

‘Often military fortifications, or watchtowers, can be absorbed into folk memories and tales of battles and conflict, and these tales can often outlast knowledge, or existence of the structures themselves. I was thinking that if you had a tale in Bywater about two barons fighting over land, or beasts or brigands coming down from the surrounding hills, or whatever, it may explain why this tower is here.’

‘As far as I know, there were no battles or anything like that around here. Nothing exciting at all happened in Burndale. Perhaps people built this tower because they were bored.’ Torben could barely conceal the bitterness as he said this.

‘Ha,’ Gwilym snorted. ‘I could certainly believe that!’

As they ascended, Gwilym used his seax and Torben his knife to clear vegetation that had grown across the windows so there’d be more light. Beyond the windows, there were no other observable features and the interior of the tower was consumed by the curve of the spiral staircase. They climbed for what seemed like an age before they popped out onto an interior platform where the spiral staircase abruptly stopped.

The platform extended across the tower, except for the side where the spiral staircase emerged. There were windows with two-foot spaces between them, running all the way around the walls. The platform was bare, save for the remains of a very old fireplace, in which hung a rusted cooking pot suspended from a chain. On the wall furthest away from staircase was a thick wooden ladder that ascended to a trapdoor in the ceiling.

Gwilym scratched amongst the dry leaves that had collected in the tower, looking for anything that might be of interest, whilst Torben inspected the trapdoor. He tested the strength of the ladder by placing a foot on the bottom rung. It held his weight well enough, even though the wood groaned ominously as he began to climb.

Gwilym came and stood next to the ladder, looking dejected. ‘Well, there’s nothing that we can take home with us, save that useless looking pot.’ Gwilym scanned the trapdoor. ‘We should be able to get a nice view from up there.’

Torben stood to one side and let Gwilym ascend the ladder. The dwarf grunted as he fiddled with the trapdoor fastening, and then recoiled and covered his eyes with one hand as he flung open the trapdoor. Light burst into the chamber below. He climbed the remaining rungs and vanished onto the watch platform.

Torben stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the light, and then ascended the ladder himself. A breeze tousled his curly hair as he emerged into open air. He hauled himself onto the watch platform and stood next to Gwilym, who was surveying the view. Before them stretched the whole of Burndale, as far as the eye could see. The builders of the watchtower had chosen the perfect spot, taking advantage of the natural slope of the dale to allow for a full, unobstructed view of the valley, whilst allowing the tower to be virtually impossible to spot amongst the trees to anyone who was looking towards the eastern end of Burndale.

‘You know this place doesn’t look half bad from up here. I almost feel bad for what I said about it last night.’ Gwilym stared across the dale, his hands on his hips, the disappointment of not having found anything valuable temporarily gone.

The line of the river was clearly visible to the west, cutting through the western woods. A small lake that bowed next to Bywater Village glistened in the midday sun. Bywater itself squatted as a rather more ungainly sight in the landscape; the dull-roofed and dark-walled houses looked out of place in the landscape compared to the deep lush green of the surrounding woodlands, the gentle gold of the wheat fields to the north and west, and the shimmering azure of the water.

‘You know, this reminds me of the time that I travelled to the city of Makesh a couple of years back. The approach to the city from the north, where I was coming from, was through the mountains, and once you crested them you spent the rest of the journey looking down on the city until you reached the desert floor. I spent hours admiring the towers and minarets from the mountain paths. The whole place seemed so much more peaceful and beautiful when you were looking down. Having said that, this isn’t at all like being in the desert … a terrible place to travel …’

Torben let Gwilym’s voice wash over him as he launched into the full flow of his story. The dwarf was right though, Burndale, and even Bywater, looked a lot more picturesque from a distance. Perhaps being distanced from the place was allowing Torben to truly appreciate its beauty. The drudgery and exasperation of life in Burndale seemed very remote from the watchtower.

Torben’s philosophical train of thought was interrupted by a dark smudge encroaching the corner of his vision. He turned his head and focused his gaze on the western part of Bywater. At that end of the village, thick black smoke rose from the houses—it was far too thick, however, to be smoke from household fires and hearths. It was slowly spreading from house to house and creeping through the village.

By now Gwilym had spotted the smoke too and stopped his story. Like Torben, he turned to better view the scene.

‘What’s going on?’ Worry was clearly audible in Torben’s voice.

Fire had started to spring up across the rest of the village, no longer in a consistent swath as in the west of the village, but in isolated spots unconnected to the houses ablaze in the west.

‘There isn’t enough wind for the thatch to be blowing around and setting light to the other houses. Someone must be setting the fires in other parts of the village. Why would they do that?’

Gwilym was oddly quiet and Torben spun, hoping it would prompt Gwilym into answering his question.

The dwarf’s brow was heavily knitted and his expression dour. ‘I think it’s best if we stay up here for the time being. It’s not safe to go back down there. I’ve seen this happen before. Believe me, there’s nothing but trouble down there.’

‘What do you mean? Is someone attacking the village?’ Torben could barely keep still; he was growing increasingly agitated.

‘Aye, like as not. I’m sorry lad, but there’s nothing we can do. Best stay out of trouble for the time being and—Torben, no!’

Torben was climbing back down the ladder. He skipped the last few rungs and sprinted down the stairs. He needed to know what was going on; he needed to help! Bywater was all he knew and he wasn’t about to let it be burned down in front of his eyes.

Gwilym stood on the watch platform. He was torn as to what he should do. On the one hand, following Torben and going back to Bywater village went against every feeling of self-preservation he had. He was certain that the village was being laid to waste, and he didn’t want to get caught up in that. On the other hand, he didn’t want to see Torben charge back into the village and get killed. He dithered, shuffling his feet unconsciously.

‘Bugger it all!’ With that, Gwilym climbed down the ladder. As he set his feet down on the platform, he could hear the squealing hinges as Torben tore open the tower entrance. The lad was quick; he didn’t have a moment to lose. He sprinted down the stairs, calling Torben’s name. As he careened down the spiral staircase, he couldn’t help but think that he was making a big mistake.