He looked around hastily and began stacking the wood back up. "Oh, my sir, forgive me! I know this is not a time for playing games! I will get back to work. We need this wood for the winery.” He began gathering an armful of it.
"It isn't a problem, Slats. I see you are channeling the essence of your ancestors," he replied, smiling.
"Well, given the atmosphere of the city of late, I must be ready. My father would not wish for me to become a plump man without the arms of a warrior." The dwarf began limping toward the Estate.
Sviska gathered some more wood and followed. He looked at the dwarf's walk and noticed he was not putting pressure on his right ankle.
"What happened to your ankle?" he asked with a tone of sarcasm.
"Oh, that," he said, trying to walk normally but faltering again. "Twisted my leg! Seems my axe spinning needs some work!"
They made it into the winery and soon had a roaring fire that chased the cold air of the underground winery away.
Slats had already organized the shipment, and a fear overtook Sviska. The Order surely had sent another object. However, this time there were no bottles of wine. A large covering from the pressing mechanism and a large trough for the wine to run down were already near the other assembled winery components.
"I tried to get as much together as I could, but it seems since my legs will not grow anymore, you will have to finish construction!"
"I will do so!" he said. "Start getting the ingredients sorted and bring the bag of frost berries near. We can get them placed into the press."
As Slats took to his work as diligent as ever, Sviska attached the trough for the juice flow and searched for the items from the Order. The shipment was not nearly as big as before, so whatever they had sent would be most likely on the actual equipment.
Slats removed the press cover and began pouring in frost berries when Sviska noticed that there was a loose piece of wood attached under the trough. It was set up just so the trough would not be flush with the rest of the equipment. He pulled at the wood and it came free.
Slats looked over. "Now don't tell me you went on and broke it!"
Sviska had just flipped over the wood and noticed wrapped linen and an object beneath. He quickly flipped it back over and held up the piece.
"Sometimes happens when they’re carving the wood," he explained, hoping his excuse was enough to satisfy the dwarf.
It seemed to work, but he hated to lie to his assistant. He had not had many friends in his life, and most were before his time with the Order. Nevertheless, his false identity could not fail and his true self be discovered. Especially with the atmosphere of fear that was gripping the city.
He slid the wood into his pocket to look at later. As of now, they needed to assure last-minute checks on the winery equipment and begin the process.
The final plugs were installed on the trough that would eventually see its purpose to empty the wine into barrels. Sviska walked to the pressing tub and looked in. There was a slight green glow to the berries, and he now understood the strange-colored smoke that had come from the old winemaking equipment that they had burned.
He brought down the lid and then set the counterweight to begin down. He grabbed the handle and began to push down. His arms shook, and sweat began to form on his brow when the machine began to go down on its own. He stood back, looking at the press mashing the berries, the counterweight coming back up and then pushing down again on its own. He wondered of this. The crackling of the icy berries was unnerving to him at first. He had thought something was wrong, but the dwarf seemed okay with it.
"How is this possible?" he asked Slats.
"Now, now, winemaker, you didn't think there would be some magical properties that would come from using magical ingredients? One thing that makes this process much simpler is the fact that the machine becomes enchanted with first use. We only need to place the barrels when it is time and store the elixir!"
Sviska smiled, staring at the machine in awe. He was happy knowing that he and Slats were not bound to stomp the berries with their feet as he had done as a child.
The machine creaked along. The smell of the berries filled their noses, and Sviska took a seat at the table. Slats began to join him but then did not.
"After all this work, a snack is in order. I will return. You get the wine!"
Slats headed out of the winery, and Sviska's hand went to his pocket. Peering down the hallway, he watched Slats as he ascended the stairs, and then pulled out the piece of wood.
He tapped the wood against his hand, and the wrapped package fell out. He untwisted the twine and opened it. Another vial, this one black and thick. There was a piece of parchment also. He looked to assure Slats was not yet returning and then set down the vial and opened the letter.
The time has come for you to know your purpose in Elinathrond. The blade shall not be used this time. Only combine these vials and rub a drop upon each barrel of wine. Your final task is simply to serve the wine afterward. These blasphemous peoples will at last be done with and you will have peace and your freedom from further tasks at the moment the last one is dead. Your deeds are being watched, and we have but a single warning—do not betray the Order.
Chapter 16 Demon Rising
Sviska's hands shook, and a nervous sweat was on his brow.
He had never had fear like the one he did now. Meredaas knew his purpose, but the Order seemed to have knowledge of his inner thoughts and gave a blatant warning.
He could hear Slats approaching, a slight song and the sound of his feet slapping down the stairs. He grabbed the vial and ran to the hiding spot. Removing the stone, he placed the second vial next to the first. He pulled a bottle of wine and stood just as Slats entered the room.
Slats stared at him. "Are you okay?" he asked, his head cocked to the side and his lips pursed.
Sviska attempted to breathe slower through his nose and walked over to the table. "I am fine. Why do you ask?"
"You seem like you saw a ghost! Your eyes when they saw me were huge, and you are breathing fast! I do not believe I have ever seen you look so weary!"
Sviska sat down and began opening the wine. "I am still feeling ill from before in the cisterns."
"Makes sense!" said Slats. "Have a snack. The venison is fresh and the bread is somewhat fresh! Between this and the wine, you shall feel better! I demand it!"
They both had their meal in almost complete silence. Sviska still felt sick. His eyes glanced over at the hiding spot that contained the vials and then to Slats, who happily drank his wine as a stream ran down his mouth into his beard.
The Order was seeking to taint the only substance protecting the people from the curse, slowly taking each person in turn until all of Elinathrond was a ghost town. He guessed they were not patient enough to just let the curse run its course as it was without the wine. Why did they seek the destruction of these peoples so quickly now? He had witnessed no evil from those like the dwarf sitting in front of him now. The arrival of Captain Runa and other members of the Brotherhood of Wura interrupted such thoughts.
"Turmin," he said, walking into the winery. It seemed he was to say something else when he turned to see the wine production. He walked to the press and touched the wood.
"Wonderful! The wine has begun production!"
Slats stood. "Master Runa, we have just sat down for some food and drink in celebration. How 'bout you join us?" He offered the seat he had been sitting in, but then stumbled from the wine and sat back down.
"Thank you for your hospitality, dear dwarf, but I have need of the winemaker himself. A contingent of the Priors with Master Nelkor and Brethor is headed to the home of Ustavis. I sent my men to assist, but Brethor told me to come get you. We will meet them at the Temple of Wura."
Sviska stood and headed out with the captain. As they walked down the corridor, neither looked in any direction but forward. The captain seemed to be perspiring, wiping his hands on his tunic.
"He is a powerful mage," sa
id Sviska. "He may not come easily."
"We will hope he can be coerced into remaining calm. However, such things may be foolish to hope for, I fear."
They exited the Estate, heading past the gypsies, who stopped their chanting and looked at the passing guards. A happening like this had not transpired in the city before.
Through the main section of the market they went. The people of the city, though still going about their normal tasks, observed them with nervous eyes. Children who were playing were brought inside, and the tiny gnomes working the shrubbery of the roads hid as their leaves were brushed in the hasty walk of the group.
A cold gale and snowfall began. As they made one of the last turns, they could see the Temple of Wura. Further down the road, the sanguine robes of the Priors surrounded the white robes of the Brotherhood of Wura. Their staves were alight and pointed toward a hunched figure in a gray robe.
Master Nelkor and Brethor, who had been following behind them, passed to the front of them as they came before the temple. The Brotherhood of Wura ordered people away from the temple and surrounding streets until only those needed remained.
"He would not speak to us," said a Wura guard. He kicked the hooded figure, and he fell. Ustavis was shivering and did not get up.
"What is wrong with him?" asked Sviska, noticing his eyes were blackened and peering out from the partially covered face.
"A trance," said Brethor. "He saw us and immediately fell into it. We cannot question someone who will not respond."
The Brotherhood of Wura guard kicked him again. "Speak, damn you!" he yelled. "This man had hidden his own private stock of wine! My daughter is locked in the asylum because she could not get a single drop when she needed it!"
The guard kicked him again more forcefully. Ustavis rolled in the dirt and came to rest facedown.
Master Nelkor raised his hand. "This is not a task of brute force. I will draw this evil to us."
He lowered his staff over Ustavis. The crystal at its end began to glow, and a white trail of dust enveloped the hunched form. Nelkor closed his eyes, raised his other hand, and from the sky, a bluish glow surrounded him. He then placed his hand forward, and Ustavis wailed and screamed, his body shaking.
The Brotherhood of Wura that was there turned away, the horror of the man violently convulsing overtaking them in fear. The Priors were steady. They hummed an ominous tone as Brethor stepped away from Master Nelkor, joining Sviska a few paces away.
"Winemaker, you see now the staff of Kel and the power the head of the Priory has."
The ground beneath them began to quake. The snow was melting, turning to slush, and then water pooled around them. They could see the dirt underneath beginning to crack, and with a loud shattering sound, a crevice appeared.
Those who were present jumped back, except for Ustavis and Nelkor. A battle of magic was ensuing and showed no signs of stopping.
There began to be a great form emerging from the crevice, and in a blinding flash, the ground around the two mages shattered and a black mass erupted forth.
Stones and people went flying in all directions. Master Nelkor and Ustavis were alight in a black fire and flung, tossed from the mass, thrown to the side as trash.
The black shroud formed a face. A skull that came to five points looked at Brethor and Sviska, but then recoiled to a barrage of white orbs from the staves of the Priors.
It wrapped itself in shadows and, like a massive leaping flame, went upward, bouncing off the buildings and over them, disappearing from view. People within the city shrieked, and from the site of eruption, they could see the entity ascending into the sky.
A further barrage of white orbs and random spells sent from those of the city assailed it but were at this point of no use. It was gone.
The snow falling was black like ash, and it began to form clumps on the ground. The bodies of the two mages steamed, lifeless.
"No!" Brethor shouted.
He ran to Master Nelkor. His staff was still gripped tightly in his blackened, leathery hands. The wood was split and the crystal shattered. The other members of the Priory looked at their staves. Their magic was failing.
All around them, the injured emerged. Lesser practitioners of magic were around, casting spells of ice from wands and throwing potion vials at the burning buildings.
The Priors began trying to heal those they could. A black fire suddenly took the body of Ustavis. Those near him jumped away. When the flames went out, nothing but a burned spot remained.
"What is this?" one of them asked, throwing the staff on the ground in frustration.
"The staff of the mage has been destroyed," said Brethor so quietly, that had Sviska not been directly beside him, he would have never heard it.
Already more injured were coming to them, but the Priors were powerless to help. Others simply tried to bandage themselves and wandered around, stunned at the events before them.
"Turmin," said Brethor. "You must retrieve the staff." His eyes shifted about those who were around them. "Remember the staff?"
"Yes, but how—?"
"You know the way. I must stay here. My presence is needed. Go!"
"How can I open the door?"
He passed him the flute. "Just move your hand over it. The rest will be obvious. Now go!"
Sviska took the flute and tucked it away. He ran quickly back toward the Estate. Behind him, he heard Brethor command some to go to Ustavis' house to check if any wine remained. Maybe there remained a few sips for someone.
As he reached the Estate, he turned to look at the destruction the demon had left in its wake. Elinathrond was smoldering. He headed in and down the corridor to the door leading to the secret stairwell and Brethor’s room. He pulled down the statue he remembered opened the passage. As he entered the stairwell, the door ahead lit up and opened. He passed quickly outside and down the path leading to the stone door. He brushed his hands over the door and it became alight. The door opened. He ran to the toothed portal, the Doorway, and stepped in.
Envision the grove.
The portal whirled to life, and he was gone, surrounded by darkness. He emerged on the other side. The flute in his hand, he played a quick made-up melody, and the fairies came to life, lighting his way.
He ran to the shore and went to where they had left the staff. It wasn't there.
He looked to the waters and called out, "Masters of the seas! Hear my call!"
The waters churned, and the stony palace of the mer-people emerged. Once again, the waters were filled with mer-people, and Espera looked down from her throne.
"Winemaker, what do you seek from the sea?" she asked, holding the staff he had come for in her hand.
"I seek the staff in your right hand. There has been a great evil in the city. We need it to heal the injured."
The goddess raised her head higher and then looked at the staff. "There is no place of real importance but here. You should remain here with us."
It was then the waters erupted and many of the mer-people were around him. He stepped back away from the surf.
"I must hurry, please, the staff!" he begged her, reaching out his hand.
The goddess smiled. "We of the Siren's song seek you, man, to join us. I may fall ill to the curse of ages, but I will have you as I desire."
Further the mer-people crept, the Sirens now beaching themselves and hissing. Their faces of beauty melted away, and monsters of the surf they became.
He drew Sishan.
"Will you kill the people of that dagger after you have had it for such a short time?" She raised her left hand and ripped the dagger from his grip. Flying toward her, it landed in her hand.
Sviska backed up further.
"What is this?" he yelled. The closer the mer-people came—he was now backing up to the opposite shore—the more were emerging from the waters like hungry crabs, their jaws snapping.
From the rocky throne, the goddess laughed. Holding the staff and dagger, she licked the blade and set it on her thro
ne. Sviska was beginning to back up to the woods when a geyser of water erupted far behind the rocky palace.
The light of the moon reflected off the gold crown of Meredaas as his form appeared in the waters beyond the palace. His head just above the water, he made a sound that tore into Sviska. He fell and curled up into a ball, struggling to protect his ears.
The mer-people all fell to the sand, dragged back into the surf. Even the sea goddess fell from her throne, convulsing. The sound stopped. Sviska saw a flash of white. Sishan flew through the air, returning to his belt.
The staff rose from the rocky palace and floated toward him, resting just beside his hand on the ground. In a shuttering and splashing of water, the rocky palace sunk back into the water, and the mer-people with it. Meredaas sank back below the water, and Sviska reached over, picking up the staff. As he did, he felt a twinge in his fingertips. The staff hummed and then quieted. The waters along the shoreline receded and then rocked forward. Meredaas reemerged, his giant head resting on the beach.
"Sviska, my people have been stricken by the curse, but I remain well. Take the staff to heal the people and take this." He opened his mouth and a single large pearl fell onto the shore. "It will allow the staff of the mage to transfer its power to this new staff. Lord Brethor will need it. There may not be many staves created from the grove from now on. Even here, we are losing our magical powers."
Sviska said nothing. He bowed before the great god of the seas as he descended back into the ocean. Sviska took the pearl and, with the staff in hand, sprinted back through the woods to the portal.
Chapter 17 Of Remembrance and Tea
Sviska made it back to the Estate, emerging on the other side of the portal, holding both objects, and on his feet this time. He began back to the Temple of Wura.
As he left the Estate, he noticed the fires of the city were all but extinguished. Gray smoke, barely visible in the dark sky, floated upward in tall towers.
He ran now as fast as his feet would carry him. Making it at last to the Temple of Wura, he noticed there was a large rope sectioning off where the crevice was. Many of the injured were receiving bandaging by Wura guards while others were directed to the Priory.
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 15