Low upon the western peaks across the river, the sun cast lengthy shadows along the canyon and shrouded the three companions in ever-deepening darkness. Above, lurking overhead, the tower of Kanton was monstrous and appeared to simply hang on the edge of the cliff’s face. Cut and bruised, Lorik and Aaron continued to clamber after the dwarf who, now far ahead of them, seemed to regain his strength with every step.
Far below, the river swirled and churned through the massive, narrow ravine, its thunderous voice echoed against the stone cliffs as it rumbled through the canyon. Across the chasm, the sister tower loomed in the lengthening shadows. Though once a mighty stronghold, its ramparts and battlements lay fractured and fallen, leaving nothing but a hollow, stone cylinder. The tower of Kanton, being more intact, stood with the ancient splendor of its craftsmen, with only the upper level in ruins.
Each grueling step brought Aaron and his companions closer to the ledge where the ancient fortress waited. Fighting through exhaustion, Aaron finally reached the base of the tower. The ancient fortification stood tall, and if the upper level were still intact, it would have been a sight to behold. Its wide base was made of massive blocks carved from the surrounding cliffs. Scattered on the ground, like debris from a windstorm, lay the shattered remains of the upper level. Large fractured stones that once served to protect the upper ballista now were cast aside, covered with moss. The rotted timber of a catapult’s throwing arm rested nearby, useless. Several marks on the arm indicated that the wood had been burned long ago, perhaps when the tower had fallen.
As the companions circled the tower they discovered an overgrown trail leading east into the heart of the Kanton Mountains. The path was carved out of the stone and climbed into the steep, rocky crags. Beyond that, the Kanton Mountains, with their snow-capped peaks that glowed in hues of red and purple as the sun faded in the west, looked like jagged teeth piercing into the twilight sky.
“We best take our shelter in the tower, the day is spent and we would be safer inside,” said Braden. His eyes gleamed with excitement as he walked toward the entrance to the tower. Aaron and Lorik followed, wary, but in desperate need of rest.
The interior was a jumbled mass of burned and broken wood and stone. To their left, a railed stair was built on the inner wall, circling its way to the top of the structure. Dust and cobwebs intensified the gloom of their surroundings. In the center of the room lay massive wooden beams, broken and burned along with piles of planks and old, rotted furniture. A massive hole had been smashed through the center, puncturing every floor as if someone had dropped a boulder from above. Aaron could see all the way to the sky.
The sun finally passed beyond the peaks of the western mountains and left the tower in darkness. Above them, through the ruined upper levels, stars dotted the evening sky. A breeze began to blow, eerily voicing its disapproval as it howled through the old structure. Echoing from the canyon below, the raging river thundered on.
“Try and find some means of light,” ordered Aaron. Lorik and Braden began to rummage through the heaps and piles that were cast all about the main floor while Aaron carefully navigated the stairs around the interior wall. Slowly he inched up to the next level. He gripped the cast iron rail for support and found it so rusted that it occasionally crumbled in his hand. He pressed tight against the outer wall and climbed about twenty stairs to the second level.
On the platform, Aaron strained his eyes to see the shapes and forms of the ruins. In the distance—what he first thought was a trick of his eyes—a pale, white light glowed. Anxious that they were not alone in the tower, he slowly and carefully began to navigate the outer edge of the landing. With every step, the boards creaked and groaned under his weight. He crept along, careful to find his way with his hands, tripping over a barrel that rested against the wall. The pale light grew brighter as he drew near, illuminating the faint outline of a smaller figure, sprawled out upon the floor. The captain sat motionless, wishing he held his sword.
Aaron breathed a sigh as he finally realized that the figure was a dwarf now long dead. Clutched in the fallen warrior’s bony hand, a small, round stone radiated a ghostly white light. The dwarf’s body lay near the edge of the hole in the center of the floor, with a massive wooden beam across its back. He feared the ancient supports might collapse, but he wanted to retrieve the illumine-stone. On his hands and knees, he crawled the remaining distance to the old dwarf.
The wood issued mournful groans—eerie exclamations to the fragile strength of the floorboards. He reached the booted foot of the body and a loud, frightening snap resounded in echoes up the tower. He held his breath and waited for any other sound of breaking wood. When none other came, Aaron exhaled in relief and continued toward the skeletal remains. He clambered to the broken timber that lay across the ancient dwarf’s back, a beam which formerly supported the upper levels. He imagined the chaos that must have transpired as the building began to collapse.
The light emanating through the old dwarf’s fingers provided Aaron a view of the remains. Traces of the beard were still readily apparent, as well as his heavy brow above the vacuous eye sockets. No flesh remained, only a thin layer of tissue covered the skeletal frame. The ancient warrior wore a heavy tunic over dull and pitted armor. A braid of gold thread still reflected the pale light, interwoven in the dwarf’s beard. The fallen dwarf’s arms were stretched out before him, an ancient axe in one hand and the illumine stone in the other. Aaron wanted to retrieve them both.
As the captain moved closer, the floor creaked again. He knelt down, desperately hoping that the aged timbers would support him just a little longer. He reached for the dwarf’s arm and carefully pried apart the fingers which gripped the glowing stone. It was small, no more than the size of an egg, but the stone was heavy. Its pale glow was beautiful as it shimmered in his hand. Holding it up, he could see, dimly, the entire circumference of the platform he sat upon, the massive breach in the center, and the stairs that wound their way up to the next level.
The battle-axe was a different matter altogether. It was in the hand opposite to him, and he needed to step across the fallen body to try and recover it. It also sat much closer to the edge of the breach with the blade just peering over the hole. He wanted the weapon, however, and believed that they would need it if they were to survive the mountain path ahead. Stepping over the body, the old floor gave a loud snap, and falling debris clattered on the floor below.
“Hey!” Braden shouted. “What are you doing up there?”
Aaron had momentarily forgotten that his two companions were just below him. “I’ve found something!” the captain replied. “I’ve recovered a glowing stone and am trying to retrieve a weapon.”
“Great!” Braden said. “Just watch where you drop the next piece of timber. That last one almost struck my head.”
Aaron couldn’t make out what Lorik said next, but it brought a laugh from Braden. Carefully he inched his way closer to the edge. On his knees, with the light in his left hand, he reached toward the axe with his right. He touched the handle with the tips of his fingers, slowly manipulating it until he was able to grip the ancient weapon. Just then, the sound of a loud crack echoed off the walls of the room. In a rush of motion the floor gave way and Aaron fell into the darkness beneath, landing sprawled out on a heap of rubble. Lorik and Braden jumped out of the way just in time as the second level, the dead dwarf, and the captain all came crashing down.
Aaron moaned as he lay in the pile of debris. He still held the stone and the ancient weapon and smiled through the dust that settled upon him like snow. Braden was first to reach him and began moving the splintered wood that had fallen with Aaron. The support beam that had pinned the ancient warrior had tumbled off the pile and left the ancient dwarf exposed.
Braden’s eyes fell upon the skeletal remains. On its brow, a circlet of gold reflected the light of the illumine stone. He reached for the small band, holding it in his hand like a prized possession. Carefully he brushed off the dust that collected, and rubbed it with his tunic until it shined.
Aaron sat up, rubbing the pain from his shoulder, and watched Braden as the dwarf carefully attended the old circlet of gold. He could easily see that Braden was deeply moved or troubled by the discovery. “What is it?” he asked.
“Captain,” he said, as he looked up at Aaron. “This is the ancient insignia of the house of Brekken. This circlet is the crown of lord Brekken’s son!” Braden gasped in amazement even as he thought about it. “It was said that the sons of Brekken defended the river… that after the cataclysm of Charis, Brekken’s sons reached the ancient towers to repel a massive flotilla that advanced up the channel. The story goes that each son commanded a separate tower and died as they faced the advancement of an overwhelming enemy.” Braden paused as he looked again at the circle of gold in his hand. “I,” Braden hesitated, “I never truly believed it… until now.”
Aaron and Lorik listened as Braden recounted the tale. “It was said that the sons of Brekken, against overwhelming odds, fought the advancing hoard of the usurper’s fleet. The two sons, with only a handful of dwarves, destroyed countless ships that forced their way up the canyon. When their forces were destroyed, it was said that the sons of Brekken, alone in the towers, continued to operate the ballistae until the end. That last part, I admit, is probably not true, but these ancient remains give great credibility to the rest of the story.”
When Braden finished his tale, Aaron reached for the offered hand of his sergeant and stood, rubbing his bruised shoulder. With a light in one hand and an axe in the other, he stepped down from the pile of rubble to the floor below. He handed the weapon to Braden, “I think that this will be best served in your hand.”
Braden took the weapon and held it up to examine it. “It is said, the weapons the dwarf lords possessed were adorned with great virtue… almost magical in quality.” He felt the edge of the blade and found it to be exceptionally sharp. “After all these centuries,” he said, “this weapon has maintained its edge. Our history speaks of these weapons, saying that even in the greatest conflict they would never become dull.”
Braden examined more thoroughly the body of the dwarf. He untied the belt around the dwarf’s waist, the leather still very much intact, and wrapped it around himself. It had a catch for the axe, as well as several jewels of various sizes. He placed the circlet of gold into the satchel.
Aaron wanted to investigate the upper levels of the tower. But their need for rest outweighed his curiosity. “Braden, if you’re up to it, keep the first watch tonight. Lorik and I do not possess your stamina.”
Braden was quite satisfied to take the first watch of the night and assured the captain that he would wake him in three hours. Lorik and Aaron found a small area with no debris and settled down. Braden, with the illumine stone in one hand, hoisted his weapon over his shoulder, and took up a relative position between his two companions and the single entrance to the tower.
****
“Captain, it’s time for your watch.”
Aaron was groggy and disoriented as he woke, and the time seemed far too short for his repose. But he rose and relieved Braden who handed him the illumine stone and battle-axe. Aaron took the proffered items willingly and walked around the tower to help him stay awake. Glad that Lorik and Braden would enjoy a good rest, he took up a position near the entrance to the tower, enjoying the nights cool, refreshing air.
As the night wore on, Aaron listened to his companions as they slept. They murmured and snored and mumbled unintelligible words. He walked around the circular room and came upon the body of the fallen dwarf. The white stone glowed as if he held the moon in his hand, and the gold thread woven into the dwarf’s beard reflected the light. A thought crossed his mind. Aaron bent down, removed the gold thread from the ancient beard and placed it in his pocket.
The rest of the night passed without incident and all three were glad to have taken the time to rest. Their journey through the Waste and down the Dead River had taken its toll and a good night’s sleep brought renewed hope. Aaron determined that at first light they would examine the upper levels of the ruined tower and then explore the surrounding grounds.
During the meager breakfast, they further rationed all that remained in their satchel. Aaron was impressed none of the contents within the bag suffered at all from their swim in the river. They finished their morning meal and began the process of exploring the ancient ruins.
Lorik looked at Aaron. “Sir, I don’t want to add to the weight of the upper floors. If you’ll allow, I’ll stay on the bottom level and get a good look around the grounds. You and Braden take the upper levels.”
“Certainly,” Aaron said. “Braden, you’re with me.”
Lorik went outside, and Braden followed Aaron up the stairs to the second level. With daylight streaming in from the gaping hole, they could readily see the entire floor, or what remained of it. Directly across from where the stairs emptied onto the platform, they saw a broken piece of the massive beam that had pinned the ancient dwarf. The floor in that section had utterly collapsed. To their left, the platform was still very much intact. They ventured that way, finding a desk, table, and other items normally found in a guardroom. Time and exposure to the elements took a heavy toll on everything they examined. To their right sat a barrel, overturned and all its contents long since poured out. To Aaron’s surprise, Braden began anxiously searching through the rubble.
“You seem to be looking for something,” Aaron said. “What is it?”
Braden turned to the captain, having almost forgotten that he was there. “What… oh, yes. It is required that every regiment kept a record of their activities. I don’t know if that was the practice at the time, but it would be of great significance to my people if I could recover a journal.”