The Dead God Series Collection

Chapter 4-1

Torben didn’t think, he just ran. Within seconds of leaving the top of the watch platform, he’d forced open the tower door and had smashed his way through the undergrowth that covered the path. He crossed the clearing in the blink of an eye and began to thunder down the hillside, back towards Bywater.

Had he taken a few moments to consider what he was doing, it might have occurred to him that blindly charging into the village, unarmed and unprepared for a fight, was not the brightest of ideas. Indeed, he might even have stopped to consider his reasons for wanting to protect the village in the first place. As he’d often said, all he could dream of was escaping that backward, introverted community and never returning. What had the villagers ever done for him that warranted him to risk his life for them?

As he ran, however, the only thought that went round his head was that, in reality, Bywater and Master Amos’ farm was all he knew, and that without them, he’d have nothing.

Torben’s brain only fully kicked into gear when he reached the bottom of the dale. He was back on the main path that ran out of Bywater, and the houses of the village were clearly visible where they lay just over a mile from the edge of the woods. Scrubby vegetable plots were all that lay between Torben and the village, and they offered a scant amount of cover; instinctively, he knew that he had to tread more carefully from now on.

He was also exhausted and now that he had stopped running, that exhaustion hit him like a lead weight. Torben had no idea how long he’d been running. The journey, which had taken them the whole morning, had passed in a blur, and Torben’s sense of time had completely abandoned him. His breath became more and more strained as the adrenaline in his body dissipated.

It was clear that the fire in the village wasn’t the product of some horrific accident. From the border of the woods, he heard screams echoing across the fields, and now and again he also heard piercing, guttural howls. He’d never heard anything like it before, and it chilled him to the bone.

The wind had also changed direction and the thick smoke was blowing towards Torben, across the fields from the village. Heavy ash and soot, carried by the wind, made him cough as he struggled to breathe evenly after the descent from the dale, and his eyes began to water in reaction to the pungent smoke.

Now that he was back in the valley, no longer running blindly, Torben didn’t know what to do. His small hunting knife was almost certainly no match for whoever, or whatever, was running rampant through the village. Then again, did he even want, or need, to go to the village? He’d easily be able to skirt the houses, flit across the fields and return to Amos’ farm without setting foot in the village. If he did that, he’d be able to return with minimal risk. It would be slower, but much safer.

Still, he needed a plan … he needed—his train of thought was broken as Gwilym burst from out of the undergrowth, not expecting Torben to be standing stationary, and ran straight into him. Before Torben knew what was happening, he was pinned to the ground. He tried to speak, but Gwilym’s head had made perfect contact with the small of Torben’s back and had knocked the wind out of him. There was a moment of silence as he tried to recover, broken only by Gwilym’s ragged post-run breathing and Torben’s wheezing.

‘You … stupid … pillock,’ Gwilym managed to say. ‘You could have been killed, running off like that without a second thought as to what might be down here. You seem to forget that you’re a farm-boy, not some lance-waving knight charging off to battle!’ He rolled off Torben’s prone form and managed to stagger to his feet doubled over by the young man.

With the weight of the dwarf lifted, Torben gasped for air and sat up.

Unlike Torben, Gwilym was less used to prolonged bouts of physical activity, and his face was bright red and his dark hair slick, dripping with sweat. It trickled from his hairline to the tip of the squat nose in an unbroken stream. ‘What the hell were you going do once you got to the village, eh? Challenge whoever’s there to a fist fight?’

‘I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I was trying to work out a plan when you barged into me!’

Gwilym opened his mouth to retort, but a shrill scream pierced the air. Torben and Gwilym’s heads snapped round, trying to pinpoint the location of the woman who’d screamed and, more pressingly, her assailant.

The field in front remained empty, and there was no sign of anyone advancing. Nevertheless, the two crouched down, painfully aware of how exposed they were on the road.

‘We need to get to cover.’

‘What are you planning to do?’ Gwilym was still scanning the field, intently inspecting each clump of sad-looking vegetables, as if expecting to see an aggressor lurking within.

‘I need to get back to the farm.’ Torben was likewise surveying the field, trying to work out the best way to stay concealed. ‘We might be able to get there before anything happens.’

‘Are you sure that it’s worth …’ Gwilym stopped mid-sentence. ‘Are you sure that’s what you want to do?’

‘Aye, positive.’

‘In that case, lead on.’

Torben looked at Gwilym. The dwarf was tightening straps on his pack and making sure that it wouldn’t unexpectedly throw him off balance. His face was set in a grim expression, his brows so deeply furrowed that the bushy eyebrows almost connected with his beard.

‘You don’t have to come with me if you don’t want to.’ Torben’s eyes met the dwarf’s. ‘I won’t hold anything against you if you want to turn around and head back up the dale. These aren’t your people, and you don’t owe them or me anything.’

‘I know that, but I’m not someone to abandon a man in his hour of need. It’s best to stick together in a situation like this. Besides, you know the lay of the land here better than I do. We stand a much better chance of getting through this as a pair rather than as two lone desperadoes.’ Gwilym pulled tightly on the straps one last time and crept level with Torben. He nodded at the young man and surveyed the field once again.

Although Torben didn’t know Gwilym in the slightest—they’d only been aware of one another’s existence a matter of hours—he was very glad to have the dwarf by his side, and that he wasn’t alone. ‘Right, follow me then.’

Torben, still crouched low to the ground, dashed from the cover of the trees with Gwilym close behind, rushing toward a large tree in the middle of a nearby field. As they entered the open land, Torben half expected to be struck down, but no surprise blow came. He thought that the sound of his heavy breathing, let alone the noise of his and Gwilym’s feet crunching gravelly soil would alert attackers. This field and the surrounding ones, however, were empty; there was no one to be seen.

As they neared the tree in the centre of the field, Torben became more nervous about what their next move would be. Nothing stood between the tree and the abandoned fields to the east of the village other than scrappy patches of carrots and cabbages, which would provide no cover whatsoever.

On reaching the tree, Torben pressed himself flat against the trunk, trying to maximise the amount of cover it afforded. Gwilym, instead, lay flat on the ground behind a small amount of scrub that had grown around the tree’s base, and used this as a watch point to survey the village. The tree itself lay at the top of a small hill, which afforded the duo an unobstructed view of Bywater below, but this also meant that the tree was the most obvious focal point in the landscape for anyone looking out from the village.

‘What can you see?’ Torben hadn’t dared survey the village thoroughly. He was worried about what he might observe. ‘Can you see any of the bandits still in the village?’

‘Yes, but they’re not bandits … they’re Lupines.’

‘They’re what?’ Torben stuck his head from behind the tree as far as he dared to glimpse what was happening. It was hard to distinguish much. The black smoke pouring out of building windows and doors obscured much of the action. Clearly visible, however, at the edge of the village were two tall lean figures that were humanoid in form, but definitely not human.

notThey resembled large gangly wolves, standing on two legs with front limbs serving as arms; long-fingered hands replaced forelegs or paws. They were completely unconcerned by the roaring blazes before them and stood leaning on spears, talking amongst themselves. Not far behind them lay the body of a woman. It was hard to be exact with details from their observation point, but the large pool of blood that surrounded her plainly showed that she was dead.

‘Lupines,’ Gwilym repeated quietly. ‘They’re not truly man or beast, but something a lot more dangerous. I’ve seen their handiwork before and it’s not pretty. It’s typical of their raiding tactics for part of a pack to set fire to a settlement and drive the inhabitants into the arms of their colleagues waiting at the other end. After that, they push their victims into a place they can’t escape from and … well … these two look like they’ve been left on sentry in case anyone slips the net and tries to escape. There’ll probably be sentries posted on each side of the village. We need to get a move on. If we linger here, they’ll spot us soon for sure, or pick up our scent when the wind changes direction.’

Torben shuffled back around the tree and looked in the direction that they needed to go. From where they were hiding, they needed to cross a quarter of a mile of open fields, until the vegetable patches met the densely hedged boundary of the abandoned fields that lay between Bywater and Master Amos’ farmstead. Once they reached the abandoned fields, the hedge would easily shield them from the village; the long grass, thick brush, and scattered trees would provide ample cover for them to reach the farm.

‘Which way are we going?’ Gwilym had joined Torben on his side of the tree and was looking up expectantly.

‘We need to get there.’ He pointed down the hill towards the hedge-line.

‘There? We’ll never make it there with all that open ground. They’ll spot us for sure, and believe you me, you do not want to start a footrace with Lupines!’

notTorben squinted at the sky. ‘How long do you reckon it is until nightfall?’

‘That won’t be for hours yet. We can’t stay here that long. Like as not, they’ll sweep the surrounding countryside soon, looking for anything or anyone that they’ve missed.’

‘Alright, alright. Just let me think.’ Head in hands, Torben squatted on the ground. At this point, the only way forward was to retreat back up the dale and to the tower to wait for nightfall. If they did that, then Amos and his wife would almost certainly be dead by the time they got to the farm.

A shrill howl from the village made Torben bolt upright, his hands scrabbling at his belt for his knife. He wheeled round, ready to strike, but there was no attacker bearing down. Gwilym, once more lying on the ground and peering through the brush, kicked Torben sharply and shushed him.