Skara Braens

Part 40

Please let me apologise for a lack of story last week. It was Ottawa ComicCon weekend, and a failure to deliver stock meant my morning was taken up with collecting the stuff I needed to sell, rather than on this, as I had originally planned.  I do hope you can forgive me!

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Blinking, you look at your companions. They stare back at you.

"I am buried underground, but tower over the land," you murmur, hoping that repeating the riddle would help you. You turn to the wall. "What is both buried and stands over land?"

A broch? They wouldn't weather at all if there was no such thing as wind or rain, heat or cold. Time itself would not be able to change its face one whit.  One would have towered over the land in its day, though, it would not have been buried.  Still, you can think of no more suitable answer

"Um," you say, hearing your voice squeak with nerves. "A broch?"

Silence follows your words, then a soft, sad sigh.

"There is freedom in death," the disembodied voice says, sounding gentle and soothing. "The Master will claim you no more."

"Oh shi—"

Artair does not get to finish his sentence. In an instant, small arrows shoot from the walls and ceiling, piercing everyone. You are dead instantly.

So, uh, no. Sufficed to say, "broch" was not the answer. It was close... but think older.  Older by far.  Like, thousands of years older than an Iron Age tower.

I have some hints for you, if you want to try again. Ready?

- You are SO on the right path with thinking the thing is stone.

- The two names is actually important, though you don't have to use both. One or the other will do.

- One of you has already identified this thing—by both names even—in one of the comments on one of the previous parts of this story.

- That person commented with BOTH names whilst voting on part 36.

Below is last week's section again, complete with the riddle. I made up the riddle, and I'm not that clever.  I did not think it would be all that difficult.  Sorry!

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"Let's go north first. If that proves fruitless we can head back down."

"Aye," Artair says, pushing the soft earth back against Mor Stein and covering the shallow engraving. "Burroughston Broch it is."

"Let's go, then," David says, his voice made gravelly by unease.

"How far?" Drest asks Artair.

"An hour, cross country," the broad man says.

"Again?"

"Aye. It seems an hour on foot between settlements was fairly regular in these parts."

Drest shrugs and before long, everyone has slid their packs one and you are once again trudging across fields.

"What exactly is a broch?" you ask.

"It's an early castle," David answers, sparing Artair the explanation. "Basically a tall stone tower surrounded by walls and sometimes a ditch and moat."

"Aye," Artair confirms. "They date back to the Iron Age... some three or four thousand years ago. Chances are, though, that they were built on already important locations, be they large settlements, trading nexuses, or religiously significant places. They correspond with an increase in hostilities in the regions. Or so it's said. It makes sense. Brochs are designed for defence."