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

  "Do not worry," said Brethor. "I have deemed it to be yours, and it will protect you in times of need. You will find that even if you drop this blade, it will return to you. It also holds within it the powers of the waters of the world, an enchantment that will allow you, with practice, the ability to use water, ice, and fogs to your will."

  “Magic?”

  “In a way, yes.”

  Sviska took the dagger into his hands. As Brethor began to walk, Sviska looked over at the empty altar.

  "What was there?" he asked, pointing.

  "The bow of the elf Truesong. A man of legend in the times before the curse. With it, a quiver of the elven people with enchanted arrows capable of old magic. It is right for it to be with the last elf and not gathering dust here."

  The furnace burned brightly suddenly and then dimmed down. Sviska fastened the dagger to his belt and covered himself back with the coat. "These weapons, although effective to man and beast, I fear are no match for what I witnessed today at the Priory."

  Brethor looked at him. "What else happened this day?"

  "After my attack at the Temple of Wura, I visited the Priory. A girl was brought in, collapsed, and then four people were killed as an invisible force was drawn out of her. Nelkor said to inform you. If I can offer my opinion, he seemed afraid."

  "Demons have never been here," he said, looking down. "I will look further into this, but for now, we must go. I did not realize I would be so troubled while taking you to our destination. I had hoped for a time of slight relaxation."

  Sviska followed him as he hastily went into another room. At the far end stood four white teeth, half the size of a man, in a circle. A black archway went over it, and two stone steps led to a platform in the teeth.

  "My people gave this to the city, but it was entrusted to be used only by me," Brethor said, leading Sviska onto the platform.

  “Your people?”

  “I am of the race known as the Dwemhar, winemaker. But of that, it is unimportant to discuss. This device can move you over great distances, to wherever your mind can see. I deem it simply the Doorway. However, whoever uses it must have memory of the place they wish to travel to."

  Brethor took hold of his arm. "This shouldn't hurt."

  Sviska felt his body suddenly turn lighter. They were now floating in the arch, and a golden flash blinded him. He felt himself go cold, and then he was on the ground. He could not see yet. His hand reached out, touching only grass. Brethor grabbed his hand and pulled him up. He could not see.

  "Brethor, I am blind!" he yelled.

  "Ha! No, you are not. It is just dark! Welcome to where I spend my days."

  Suddenly music was playing and, after a short set of notes, tiny orbs lit up and began flying around them.

  "Welcome to the grove of magic, Turmin."

  Sviska looked around. Large trees with glowing moss loomed above him. Tiny orbs, not much bigger than his hand, floated about him. He noticed there were figures in the light with tiny wings.

  "Hello, my friends," Brethor said.

  "Fairies?" Sviska asked.

  "Yes, they tend to the trees and assure they grow well. This place is a source of magic, hidden from the outside world. There are a few in the city, but this is their home. They darken upon activation of the portal. They light up only when I let them know it's me with my flute."

  He held out his hand with the tiny green flute in the center. "This was the flute of the Fairy Keeper, a gnome who watched over them long ago. At his passing, he gave it to me. This place and the waters surrounding it is an extension of the city. It is also a safe haven for some who could not be in the city due to their physical form."

  As they walked through the woods, Sviska looked up, perplexed. There were thousands of the fluttering lights within the boughs of the trees. The fairies twisted and fluttered between branches, zooming in front of him as he and Brethor walked down a wide path between the trees.

  The woods went on for a good distance, and after some time, he began to smell the familiar smell of the sea. As they emerged from the woods, the moon sat just above the water, bigger and fuller than he had ever seen.

  Above them, the greenish ribboning lights in the sky were bright and large.

  "The lights of Wura," said Brethor. "Some say that his palace was among the stars in the night sky and that when the lights would dance over the lands, he was about making tricks of the mind, as was his duty, and of course, pleasure." He laughed and then looked up, his eyes widening.

  "They are my most favorite thing to see, and the absolute most wonderful place to see them is here at the grove. The lights enhance the magic of the woods and help grow one of the substances you need for your wine."

  Brethor began into the surf, just past where the waves were gently breaking at his knees. Beneath the surface of the water, standing stalks swaying with the current of the sea with crystalline-like tips grew.

  “Redstalk,” Brethor told him.

  Sviska followed him in. He began to reach down when Brethor swatted his hand.

  "We cannot touch them yet."

  There was flat rock above the waters. Brethor climbed onto it and motioned for Sviska to follow.

  Brethor shouted out, "Masters of the seas, hear my call. I seek an audience with the great Espera!"

  There was a swirling in the waters before them. The waves pulled away from the shores, forming a circle of white foam rising into the air. A massive rock emerged from the sea, and the waters flooded the shore, the sea foaming and blowing upon Sviska and Brethor.

  From the waters emerged human-like people with golden hair, scales, and tails where their feet should have been.

  The creatures jumped, twisting within the surf and floating around Brethor and Sviska. One of them brushed its hand across Sviska's face. He felt drunk, in awe at its face of beauty. They had the form of a woman, but something was different about their faces. As he stared into it, it began to change. He began to feel like he was falling asleep when Brethor slapped his shoulder.

  "Don't do that," he said sharply.

  The mermaid jumped back and dove back into the surf. "Many a man has been caught in their gaze. They will not kill me, but you are a stranger. They and their kind of similar, the Sirens, have long protected this shore from unwanted guests. It is their nature."

  From the rock that had emerged, a crack formed, and it began to open with a spilling of pearls into the water. It appeared to be made of pink shells. It was a sheen surface that shined in the darkness, and the glint of the moonlight was on it. The palace of the mer-people had appeared.

  Atop a stone seat formed from shells and living crabs, a woman sat, clothed in only a raiment sheer silk. In her hair was an assortment of shells, and she wore multiple rings of stones on her fingers.

  Brethor bowed, Sviska following in turn.

  "I am Espera, goddess of those of the sea. Brethor, you bring a guest to my shore. Tell me of him."

  "Great goddess, the curse that has stricken our kind is no stranger to you. My wine has run out, and he is the new winemaker of the Estate. I bid a portion of your red sea stalk for the spell to be strong."

  The sea goddess stood from her seat and began down the steps that led from it. She had no fin as the others, but white and pure feet, untouched by scars or wrinkles. Supported by other mer-people, she walked along the surface of the water, at last resting on her stomach just in front of Brethor.

  "Of course you may have as much as you want, but I do not trust this one with you."

  She waved her hand over Sviska’s head and held it just over his brow.

  "Something is not right about him, but I now see you have trusted him with our dagger, long kept locked away from even us."

  She stared down at him, and he further hid the scabbard beneath his tunic.

  "There is something not quite right about me, too, but it doesn't bother you," said Brethor.

  Sviska looked at Brethor, who looked at him and then, with a raised eyebrow, looke
d at her.

  "Very well, we shall test his resolve. Besides, to a stranger, I am easy to look upon, but he is not."

  She clapped her hands, and another swirl of water began casting waves up the surface to the first stone palace. A large archway of reef appeared, and a white boat with a single mast beneath it.

  "If you have brought him here, you will know what he faces."

  "You can't send him there. What if he does not return? We—"

  She raised her hand to Brethor’s mouth. "If he does not return, we will know he is a liar and unworthy to be blessed with the gifts of the sea."

  Brethor backed down. He turned to Sviska. "You go to the god of the oceans, Meredaas. His ship will take you to him." He pointed across the water to the white ship docked in the rocks.

  Sviska began to step back, but then felt the press of Brethor's hand against him.

  "Do not fear. You will find him to be rather . . . endearing."

  He took a step into the deeper water, and a path of raised shells appeared, leading to the boat. He made his way down the path, careful not to slip off the rocks and fall into the surf as his feet searched for stable footing.

  The boat was large enough for at least fifteen men. Its hull was made of finely crafted wood and shells, and as he stepped aboard, a silver glow surrounded the boat. Through the opaque seal around the top of the boat, he made out Brethor, who waved a single wave.

  The boat lurched forward and from the archway. As he thought to go left, the boat lurched, rocking and shifting over the surf in the direction his mind thought.

  He thought again, this time to go right. It followed. He was able to control the boat with thought alone.

  It was then he was no longer in control. A force unseen, something else took the rudder. It straightened its path, going a fair distance from the shore, and then stopped.

  The chop of the waves striking the hull and the cold night wind brushing past his ears was all he could hear. Suddenly, he felt the boat drop, as if off a cliff, plunging beneath the water. He fell down but then looked up as the waters did not breech the opaque shield around the boat. The boat fell and fell until finally it slowed and gracefully came to rest on the bottom of the sea, kicking up a plume of sand.

  He could not believe where he was. What magic was powerful enough to keep the waters of the ocean at bay and allow him to see the floor of the sea? Around him, fish swam, some small and colorful, others larger than cows, taking little mind of him or the boat. Looking across the ocean floor, he saw a small fishing boat, its occupants long gone and the power of the sea rotting away the wood. It had now become a home to a school of fish that swam in and out of the once mighty hull. Red etchings of dragons were still visible in the shifting sands.

  There was a hum in the air as the water reverberated from around the ship. The rocks that before he thought were just sitting in front of the boat, rose, and the water became cloudy again. As it cleared, he saw a massive fish, its eyes as emeralds, its face adorned in a gold mask complete with a silver crown.

  "What business do you have with the god of the seas?" it asked, the rumblings of its voice shaking the sphere that held back the waters.

  He tried to speak but found the words difficult.

  "Do you not speak, man?"

  He managed to get out the first words, and the rest came out with little work. "I am but a mere winemaker. I seek ingredients to make the wine to save the people of the lord's city."

  "Liar," the sea god said. "You do not just seek mere herbs."

  Sviska wondered of what to say. He was trying to get the redstalk from the surf, and Espera had sent him down here for what reason? He was fearful yet in awe of the beast before him.

  "What is your name, surface dweller?"

  "Turmin."

  A rush of bubbles blew from the fish’s mouth. It slapped its tail, and Sviska felt a shock through the bottom of the boat.

  "Again you lie! Tell me your name!"

  He looked around. Even if he could escape the ship, he was no fish. The being before him knew more than it said, but had it wished him dead, he knew it would have already been so.

  "I am Sviska," he told it, whispering.

  "Sviska, of the Order of men. I have heard the mutterings of your arrival even down in my deep abyss. The sea lobsters do not like you."

  He looked over the bow of the ship and noticed a gathering of large red lobsters, their claws snapping as they tumbled over each other, growing in numbers with every passing second.

  "You have deceived the lord of the Estate and the guardian of our kind and in turn betrayed me. Perhaps I shall let them eat you."

  "I am bound by creed to uphold the tasks of the Order."

  "Nothing bounds you! Are you your own person or merely a forsaken pawn, an ugly shell, kept by some begging hermit crab, wishing only to hide from the truth of the seas? There is power unlike anything the world has seen in many ages awakening now. I will not have some rubbish of a man further staining the resounding changing of the world.”

  The rumble of its voice rippled the shield once again. Sviska cowered down, dropping facedown to the deck.

  "I cannot be deceived. I am Meredaas of the sea. My power keeps the waters of the grove and feeds the enchanted trees. I am father of all mer-creatures, be it the mermaids, Sirens, or even those of lands beyond this one. You will hear my command. The time has come for you to do more than listen to the ramblings of an Order of men. You will embrace your heritage and of whom you are. Your life has not been unwatched by the people of this land, and your reason and cause within the city is known by more than just me, the sea god. There is a feeling within you of late that I bid you follow. Your own destruction shall befall you if you do not. I have been of your world, and when I was there, I found it beyond disgusting. It is well I had my dagger, and now seeing you with it disgusts me at the gills. But I feel there is a hope to be had with you."

  "I do not understand what you are telling me."

  "Speak to the lord of the Estate of my words and take my blessing."

  There was a sudden rush upward, and the boat was again on the surface of the water. On the deck of the ship, a single pearl lay. Sviska, still cowering on the deck, reached out and took the pearl. Rubbing it in his hand, he struggled to catch his breath. Never before had he experienced such an event.

  The boat made its way back to the outcropping. On the shore, Brethor sat. Upon seeing the boat, he stood and ran down the shell pathway to him.

  "Are you okay?" he asked, pulling Sviska out of the boat. "What did he say?"

  Sviska took a deep breath, finally feeling safe being out of the boat.

  "A lot. He was quite endearing," Sviska told him with a whim of sarcasm.

  "That he is, and an honest, kind heart! Perhaps somewhat overbearing, but a good friend. I see you received his blessing. Good," he said, taking the pearl from him.

  They made their way back to the shore where Espera waited, lying on her side. She rose to her feet and closed her eyes when she caught sight of the pearl.

  From the waters came the redstalks, and in a wisp of waves, the crabs stacked the stalks beside Sviska.

  "Go, maker of wines, and make the brew, for the sake of all."

  He bowed, and in a rush of waters, Espera and all of her kind descended back into the sea, the shore again calm before them.

  Chapter 13 Of Fae Fading

  Brethor stared upward. The lights of Wura danced above them. Like a green ocean, the ripples dancing in the ever expansive sky. Brethor took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

  "I truly love this place," he said.

  Sviska thought of what Meredaas had said to him. Of how others knew his purpose and that he should’ve asked Brethor of his words. He needed more time to think of it. His inner battle of his service to the Order and the people of Elinathrond tore at him.

  Caught up in thought, he had not noticed that Brethor had walked away and was now kneeling near a tree. He stood then, holding a staff. The
staff was a simple brown but lacked the glow of the ones that the Priory of Kel had.

  "I'm happy I was here when one was produced," he said, walking to the shore. He dipped it in the water and then reached down, pulling up a wad of seaweed.

  "You do not need the blessing of the sea god?"

  "Not for this. It is simple sea stalk. But it is one of the sources that channel magic. In this case, it will heal the injured. Other channeling materials do other things. The staff must remain in the sea a few days. It will be charged for use and ready."

  He laid it down just into the reach of the waves.

  "Must all staves be made here?"

  "They are now. These are the last stave-producing trees in the land."

  Brethor bound the red sea stalk in rope and threw the load over his shoulder. "Let us return to the Estate."

  They began to walk through the woods.

  "These trees only produce a staff every ten years. If after a few nights the staff remains untouched, the grove reabsorbs the energy and will form another staff in time. It is only just after they are born from the woods that they can be used to infuse with a substance and channel magic."

  They made their way back to the spot in the woods where they had come from. A similar structure, as was in the mountain back at the Estate, waited for them. Instead of large teeth, it was boughs of trees. A vine archway was above them. Standing on the platform, Sviska again saw the flash and then blackness before finding Brethor standing above him.

  "You need to learn to stay on your feet!" he teased, helping him to stand back up.

  As they made their way back through the old Foundry, they once again found themselves walking across the pathway to the balcony near Brethor's room. Instructed to wait outside, Sviska obeyed. Brethor returned with two wooden chairs and the pot of still-hot tea for them to share.

  "Your wine can be made as soon as the rest of the equipment is here."

  "I do not know how to make this wine. Slats told me of the difference in the magical properties of the wine and a simple potion, but how do I make wine without grapes? Plus, it is magic, which I cannot do."