Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content)

by J. T. Williams

  "Well, Turmin, it is best not to hold you up here any longer. You will be in good hands with the captain of the guard, Captain Runa here."

  Ustavis motioned to the man who had led Sviska in. Captain Runa nodded, his scraggly blondish hair covered again by his tunic as he pointed toward the door opposite from where they had come in.

  "Come with me, sir. I will take you to the lord's Estate."

  The chair he was sitting in was comfortable compared to the wagon. He was just beginning to feel his hands again when he stood and followed the captain. Runa opened the door and held it for him as he stepped onto a snowy stairwell and made his way down to the road. They were on the other side of the gate now.

  For the first time since his journey north had begun, he inhaled deeply the air around him. The freshness of the cold night mountain breeze renewed him with a strange vigor and calmness. There was a peace he could feel deep in his stomach.

  Runa picked up a torch from a basket near the door and lit it on a hanging lamp near the gateway. He began to lead Sviska through the city. Sviska followed just behind him, twisting between buildings and stalls. He noticed a smell reminiscent of herbs, but also strange scents unlike anything he had smelled before. There was no one out at this hour, but he felt as if he were still being watched. Almost as if unseen eyes peered between foliage that lined the roadway.

  He kicked a bush for his own amusement and found nothing but more snow and a rock that now caused his toe to throb in pain.

  "Turmin," said the captain, "it is advised that you be wary of disturbing the bushes within the city. They do not like it."

  "The bushes?" Sviska asked, now somewhat limping from the hidden rock.

  "Yes. Now let us head this way."

  He motioned to the left, and they took a narrow path through the buildings to a large opening, the size of which four to five horses could stand head to rear comfortably. Above them, torch basins burned brightly beside large trees that rose high above the roofs of the buildings.

  "This is Tareh Way. It is the southernmost road of the city and cuts up to the East Square from the Mirenor road, which is the most traveled but furthest trekking road. I believe you would like the fastest way to a warm bed, am I correct?"

  "Yes, a warm bed will be nice."

  "Very well."

  The road opened up ahead. Through the passageway between the buildings and across a wide stone expanse, they came to a circular stone archway that was hedged with flowery bushes and sweet herbs. A rotunda of strange carts adorned with stars and moons looped around in a massive circle. Incense was burning from a bottle on the roof of one of the carts, and the sounds of chimes from the breeze broke the otherwise silence of the night.

  "That is the East Square there. The rock circle is just outside the gates of the Estate. We are almost there, just up the next stairwell."

  Past the rock circle, they came to metal gates opened by just a light push by the captain. Sviska could see a field of white lining the perimeter. The snow, a faint glow in the cloudy night, was broken up by raised hedges running up to a polished stairwell of five steps.

  Opposing stone walls, almost the height of the city's, gleamed in the moonlight, breaking through the cloud cover, making up the front side of the Estate. Intermittent windows running along the length of the walls, narrow in width and tall, were crowned in downward-pointing angular triangles. Along the edges of the structure, what looked like vines, but of stone, adorned the otherwise straight-cut stonework and contrasted well to the sharp angles. A spire of silver sat barely visible in the night sky, jutting as they ascended the stairs.

  As they approached, he noticed two figures stood by the door, veiled in white. They stood the height of two men, it seemed, their arms and legs elongated. If he had not known better, he would have thought they were men, but he realized they were statues. In their left hands, each held large staves in closed grips. He looked toward their faces but found nothing but blackness, shrouded by the veils of stone over their heads.

  The captain pushed open the doors. "I will take you only to here, the main foyer. The head servant will direct you to your quarters."

  Sviska followed Runa into the doorway. A large room greeted him, with a center statue of a winged figure looking upward. He looked up, noticing an arched glass roof splashed from the glowing moon with beams that illuminated the stone floor.

  He turned to thank Runa but found that he had already made his way back out. The large wooden doors shut with a clank that echoed through the empty halls.

  "Here, sir," a voice said. "Welcome to the Estate of our lord. He will not be here to greet you but wishes an audience first thing tomorrow morning."

  Holding a large candlestick with wrinkled hands, the speaker emerged from the darkness. His raiment was green, and he was shorter than Sviska. His body was thin, and he wore no adornments of any kind. He appeared frail but did not quiver or seem uneasy. A good thing given his position as a servant.

  "I take it your journey was good. Am I correct, winemaker?"

  "Um, yes," he stuttered. "Cold, but good."

  "I am the manor steward here, and my name is Cusis." He began to assist Sviska in removing his coat. "I am also the head servant. I have already assigned you an assistant and will introduce you tomorrow—that is, if he does not find you first."

  Sviska enjoyed getting out of this heavy coat and noticed the manor was quite warm.

  "I am Turmin."

  "Turmin, well, you have been sought for a long while. I could not believe that the lord sent for you so quickly, but it is well he did, and even better that you came so quickly. We will be happy to have our wines flowing again."

  Cusis grasped his candlestick again and began walking down a corridor to their right.

  "How long have you been a winemaker?" he asked.

  Sviska walked just behind him and stumbled for an answer to the question. He had not thought about this prior to now. He quickly thought up a satisfactory half-truth.

  "The past five years I spent at a winery in the southern regions. Before that, my father was a grower of rare grapes, and we supplied the local winery with products when I was a boy."

  "Well, well. You will find the process simpler here. The wine-making equipment was destroyed in the same fire that killed our winemaker. A horrible accident. I do understand you will be receiving shipments from your land to rebuild it?"

  "Yes," he answered. "It should be here within the next few days."

  Sviska looked at Cusis. He hoped that his answers were sufficient and believable. Cusis stared forward and then glanced over at Sviska.

  "How do you like this cold?" he asked, the awkwardness of the situation obvious in his tone.

  "Like before, cold. I am used to a much warmer air."

  "Well, you will find the Estate is much warmer than the outside or anywhere else upon the mountain. Your room is in the east corridor, along with other rooms that are otherwise unused."

  They came to a stairwell going down from the main hallway. He expected it to be cooler than the main corridor, but it was not. Opening the door, Cusis stepped to the side, making way for Sviska to enter.

  The room was a moderate size. A small desk sat in the corner, with an empty bookshelf next to it. A simple bed with the covers overturned was directly across from a fireplace that looked as if it was recently swept out and stocked with dry wood.

  "Make yourself at home," Cusis said.

  He poured oil from a small can onto the wood he had stacked in the fireplace. He lit the fire and stood back from it as orange and red flames licked the charred chimney.

  "The supply of wood here will keep you until morning. I will awake you when it is time, if you wish. The days are getting shorter, and soon will come the great time of darkness in these parts. It can be confusing to a southerner such as yourself."

  Sviska nodded in understanding. "Thank you for your hospitality."

  "No, sir. It is a welcome well deserved. I will see you in the morning.”


  Cusis left, shutting the door behind him.

  Though he found little else of interest in the room, a drawer under the bed revealed a set of dry sleeping clothes and a robe. Changing into them, he laid down and was comfortable for the first time in many days.

  He breathed a sigh of slight relief. For his masters to send him here, it had worked well in his favor thus far, and it seemed that at the time, the guise was working and to his advantage. Tomorrow would come the meeting with the lord and further pushing of his guise, but to what end, he did not know. He closed his eyes and struggled to refrain thoughts of such things anymore for the night.

  * * * * * *

  The morning came quickly. Cusis opened the door and brought folded clothing to Sviska, who awoke, startled. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, looking around.

  "The sun has been up for a bit, and the lord wishes your presence in the dining hall. He is interested in meeting you."

  Sviska picked up his clothes and began to change. At some time as he slept, his normal tunic and things he had worn during the journey had been cleaned. He was surprised that he had not awoke with someone coming into the room.

  "I took the liberty of cleaning your bag for you. It seemed the cold and ice had ruined the remaining food you had. I will get it for you and have it delivered to your room. The Valera herbs were good too, and those I will be sure to return to you also.”

  “Thank you. I didn’t expect that to be done.”

  “You are welcome, Turmin.”

  Sviska pulled on his boots and followed Cusis from the room. Shutting his door, he turned back toward the main entryway where Cusis walked. They headed down the eastern corridor, and within a few paces, they came to an open double doorway. The room was dark except for dim candles on the walls and a large fire along the right side wall in the center of the room. Across the room, there was a set of windows, but very little light came through, though there was a faint blue glow outside.

  The table could have seated forty men, but instead it was set for just two at the very end that was closest to the window. Cusis went to each corner of the room with a candlestick, lighting torches. The light began to illuminate the surroundings. Cusis forcefully cleared his throat, and Sviska looked his way.

  "I will summon the lord so that he may meet you."

  The servant departed, and Sviska was alone once again. He made his way over to the fire. For the tales of such hard people of unfriendliness and secretiveness, he had seen little of the sort.

  Adorned with curved lines and jewels of blue and green, similar to the great gateway of the city, the fireplace was massive. Two winged dragon statues stood guard at either end of the mantel. Blackened by soot and made more menacing, they acted as guardians of the flaming woods between them. Above the mantel, a large painting of green clouds, as he had seen in the painting in the tavern, was meticulously hung, centered with the fire.

  "You must be my winemaker," a voice boomed behind him.

  Sviska turned and found a man towering above him. His black hair was tied back and well kept. His face was clear but pale. A product, perhaps, of his northern abode. He stepped forward, his hand emerging from a dark red coat.

  "I am Brethor Srvivnann, lord of Elinathrond. My people and I welcome you to our city."

  The handshake was short but firm, and Brethor went immediately to the table and sat down. Sviska followed, and soon Cusis brought food and drink. Nothing was spoken between them as Sviska and Brethor ate. After their breakfast of fruits and roasted venison, Cusis brought them each a serving of tea.

  Brethor leaned back in his seat, bringing his foot to rest on his other leg as he sipped from his cup.

  "Cusis tells me you've been a winemaker for over five years and had a lifetime in the production of rare grapes?"

  "Indeed correct, Lord."

  Brethor laughed. "You can call me Brethor. I am lord of the city, but within my walls, you can refer to me without the title. You will find the people here are imaginative and more lenient with our thinking. Especially when comparing us to the south and the Grand Protectorate. I encourage my people to be happy."

  Sviska took a sip of tea and set his mug down. He looked at Brethor, attempting to word a sentence that was appropriate.

  The Grand Protectorate was the public image of the Order, a figure piece in a grand scheme of united, or more so conquered, regions of the land.

  "The Grand Protectorate wishes order."

  Brethor's face was unmoving in expression. He looked down to his drink, sipping it again.

  "That is true, indeed. Ironic, too, but not of a particular care to us here. We are not of them."

  "It seems the rest of the world feels you are not so caring, even of those around your own mountain," Sviska continued. "The rumors of the Northern peoples are that they’re all monstrous and unfriendly."

  Sviska wondered if he was being too heavy-handed with his words. It was obvious Elinathrond was an enemy of the Order. He did not wish to anger the lord so soon.

  Moments went by and then Brethor nodded, cracking a slight smile.

  "Well, my people and I do enjoy our privacy. We do not wish to be bothered and will not bother others. But, I had needed a winemaker, and thus our interaction for a time increased with the outsiders. You are here now, and things should return to normal. They need to."

  "It seems strange to me that wine would be produced so high in the mountains. Ale would seem more appropriate."

  "Perhaps. But here we have made wine for many ages. It would not be appropriate to change that now."

  The lord stood, and Sviska followed quickly, expecting to follow traditions of the south when a king or high official in town stood.

  "Please, please, Turmin." He waved his hand for him to be seated. "I want to be your friend, not your master, and I am not a king."

  Sviska sat back down.

  "Since I know your equipment will not be here for a few days, I bid you go forth into the city and also attend to your wine-making room. The fire destroyed much, and we have not been able to get it all cleaned prior to your arrival. I believe Cusis has informed your assistant of your arrival. You can see him when you are ready. That is if Slats does not find you first. He has been bothering Cusis and me since he heard a new person was coming. You will find him very easy to get along with."

  "That is good. Thank you for the meal, Brethor," Sviska said.

  "You are welcome, and I hope you will join me again if you choose to. We try to be as a family in the Estate. There is much I wish to show you as you settle into your new home."

  Brethor turned and headed toward the open doors and into the east corridor, his footsteps fading with him.

  Sviska was alone again and was happy to know that the Estate would be his place for a time. The air was warm and the food good, not at all as was normal for him.

  Swallowing the rest of his tea, only now tepid, he made his way back to the foyer of the Estate. He spotted a man standing down the eastern corridor, rocking nervously and glancing around. Sviska began that way.

  As he drew closer, he noticed the man was just about to knock on the door of his quarters.

  Chapter 6 Unfortunate Murder

  "Can I help you?" he asked him.

  The man turned and then bowed. "Cusis sent me. He said I am to help you with your winemaking."

  Sviska stared him up and down. "So you're my assistant?"

  The man was short, not too much bigger than a small child, and had a nervous laugh as he attempted to answer. "Uh, yes, sir. I am your assistant, and Cusis has ordered me to help you with whatever you need. Of course, this is in addition to everything else I normally do. I do not get out of extra chores, no sir. But, my sir, I am here to help. What do you—?"

  Sviska stopped him. "For now," he said, with a relief that the man had stopped talking like a narcissistic bird, "what is your name?"

  "Very sorry, sir. Slatnichor, dwarf of the eastern mountains. Slats is what most call me, though."


  "A dwarf? As in you are not a full-sized man?"

  Slats gave a curious look to him. "No. A dwarf as in, well, a dwarf! How else can I explain my own self?"

  "I understand you are short. It is obvious to me that you are quite small."

  There was a bit of frustration on the man's face. He shook his head quickly from side to side, staring. "No matter, sir. But, so you know, I prefer to be called Slats." He smiled and nodded. "Shall I open your door?"

  "Slats, I do believe I can do that. However, if you wish to assist me further, I would like to go to the winemaking room. If I'm to do the job, I need to first know where it is."

  Slats gave another strange look, and then his eyes widened. He began to bounce up and down.

  "Um, nope, I can't! Busy work in the kitchen! I will catch you when it is dark again! I promise! You would think with so many years of this servant work I would remember such things as cooking! Cusis is going to kill me!"

  He turned, scampering down the corridor and muttering to himself as he went. "Cooking dough is burning! I should just chop wood! It is much easier than cooking!"

  Sviska laughed and turned back toward the foyer. He decided to go outside and see the city in the daytime. Brethor had stated he wished him to know the city more, and there was nothing else for him to do at the current moment.

  He pressed on the large wooden doors, opening them with a cracking sound as the joints broke free of their icy bounds. He stood in the middle void between the two sentinels.

  The statues both stared out over the city, like stalwart, silent guards. They each had a slight sheen, making them look different from the stone of the Estate. He looked at both of them and then continued. He was a stranger and an outsider here regardless of what Brethor said. If he was to hold up his guise, he must do it with a smile and a friendly gesture.

  He remembered from the night before the peculiar wagons and stone arches just before the Estate. As he walked into the circular area, he noticed that there were indeed many people now around the wagons. Each person he saw was dressed elaborately in silks of purple, blue, green, and red. It seemed that a few of them were in the middle of a musical dance, moving and swaying around a small fire that burned in the center of their circle.