This tale is for Sue Vincent’s Thursday #writephoto prompt.
For long years it had been a round tower, a holy place pointing to the heavens, where the ritual of prayer followed the mounting stairs, where chieftains of the lake conferred with their god. For years the chief wound his way in the path of his holy men, hoping to bind the strength of their god with his own. And for years, the god was with him. He held his place, his sons grew strong and healthy, his flocks and herds increased, and he followed the relics and the chanted spells round the tower to gaze down in satisfaction on his tribal lands.
Then, one black day, the invaders came in their narrow ships. The cowardly warriors clad from top to toe in iron, who used the long bow, the coward’s weapon rather than risk their skins in true combat. They…
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