"Winemaker!" he heard behind him.
Turning, he saw a face that he did not expect. It was the man from the tavern from his first time in the city. The man whose small dragon Sviska had accidentally killed.
"I do not wish any trouble," Sviska said, wary of him.
"And I do not wish any on you, my friend. I was to tell you that the others have gone to the Priory and await you there."
Sviska shook the man's hand. "Thank you. I will head there immediately. And how am I your friend?"
The man shook his hand back. "The name is Garoa. If you will, once this mess is somewhat more stable around here, come back to the tavern and have a drink with me. I'm buying. You are doing a service to Elinathrond beyond what others can."
Sviska raised his eyebrows and nodded. "Sure," he said, surprised of the man's generosity.
Across the town Sviska went, weaving through the collapsed buildings and burning structures. He did not know the demon had caused such destruction as it fled. He wondered if it would return.
The people were busy both cleaning up and helping those who were injured. Others were mourning. Their loved ones lined the streets, covered by large cloths. They were dead.
The Priory had become a refuge. Sviska found Brethor at the doors of the Priory with children, many of whom were now orphans.
"Take them to my Estate," he commanded one of the Brotherhood of Wura. He looked up and saw Sviska as he made his way through the main gate.
"I see you were successful," he said, taking the staff from him.
"Brethor, the curse has infected the grove. I was attacked by Espera, and had it not been for Meredaas, I would not be here to deliver this to you."
"Such things are as they are, I am afraid. But let’s reverse what I can reverse."
Sviska followed him into the temple. The Priory of Kel was in mourning of their fallen master.
Encased in silver sheets, his body lay upon the altar of the temple. Below him, many of the severely injured lay, as well as members of both temples of the city, unconscious.
Brethor raised the staff. The light from it shone brightly, and the wounds that had stricken the afflicted were healed. As the light faded, those on the ground stood and smiled, looking at themselves. The staff had healed them.
"Old friend," Brethor said, placing his hand on the body of Nelkor. He removed the sheets with his other hand. The staff had healed his burns, leaving his white skin apparently untouched. What remained of his robes clung to his body, and the Priors surrounded as Brethor began a last rite for the fallen master.
"Doves upon the lily tree,
Watching over silently,
He loved the flowers, herbs, rain,
And cared for all, blessing the same.
Sleep, Master of Healer’s hand,
Long you've waited for this end,
Elven harps grace your life,
Forever you shall dwell in light."
He took the staff and placed it over the body of Nelkor. The body became alight in white fire and then was gone. The stillness of the temple was made even more apparent by the torches that ceased to flicker. They all had their heads bowed. Sviska looked around as the Priors knelt.
"Turmin, please hold the staff," Brethor said, handing the staff to him.
From behind the altar, he brought the broken staff. Sviska reached into his pocket and gave him the pearl. Taking both staves, Brethor placed them side by side with the pearl and pressed the objects together with both of his hands. There was a blinding flash, and the staves merged. The staff was now pure white. The old staff was visible, merged as a black branch within the white. Atop the staff was the pearl. He took the staff and held it above his head.
"Now you shall stay!"
He brought the staff back down, and the end drove into the earth of the temple. The staff began to glow from the pearl and then dimmed to where little light came from it.
"Until a new master is made, I decree by the powers of Kel and Wura that this staff of the master of the Priory of Kel shall rest. May its power flow to the Priors and bid you out upon the city to heal others in memory of your master."
The Priors took turns passing the staff and kissing the ground before it as they departed the temple.
Brethor looked to Sviska. "We must check on our friend."
They made their way out of the temple and to the gardens around the side of the temple. Berie was there. She stood motionless, staring into the sky.
"Are you well, my dear friend?" Brethor asked her.
"I am fine. The dreariness upon me has faded," she said. Turning to Sviska, she embraced him. "Thank you for your part in all of this. I feel without you, I may not have survived."
Brethor bowed his head. "Dark times grip us now. The passing of Master Nelkor, I fear, will prove to make things even worse before they heal. I have not the heart to choose a new master, so for now it shall remain as a leaderless order."
The dark sky stirred further agony in Sviska's already troubled mind. The rolling clouds and icy wind were of no comfort to him. His head ached, and he brushed his hair before blinking multiple times.
"The constant darkness has ways to wear you down," said Berie. "Come back to the Estate with me. I have some tea that helps me. Perhaps you will have some with me?"
Sviska glanced to Brethor, who shrugged. "There is nothing more for you to do here. I will remain to help where I can, but do not stay for me. Things here are no better when you suffer from the lack of light. Take time to rest. There has been much trouble today."
He and Berie left, walking back to the Estate. He struggled to find words. Berie did not.
"This place is cold, much unlike where my people are from. I remember the times before the curse and when we lived among the woods. The time of darkness that grips this place is disheartening to all but the Northern peoples."
"I am not used to it at all, nor the cold," Sviska said back. "You were alive before the curse?"
"Yes, my people do not die of old age. Indeed, we live until we choose to become one with the earth and return our life force to the woods, or we die in battle or recently, the curse. Most of whom I knew were stricken by the curse. My father and I fled here many years ago."
Passing the gypsies, she waved at them, and one of children ran up to her.
"Berie! I made you a flower necklace!" The little girl held up a string with a single flower petal dangling from it. She was smiling and blushing, tucking her hands to her cheeks with a growing smile as Berie took the gift, putting it on.
"Thank you!" she said.
The little girl giggled and went back to the carts. Berie smiled and then looked at the necklace.
"They are so small," she said, looking back toward the gypsies.
Sviska looked back also and then to her. "The children?"
"No, the flowers!" she joked, pushing his shoulder. "Yes, the children! Children became so rare for my people. When we came here, the kids were my favorite part. Especially those of the gypsies. They love to hear my stories of the woods. This reminds me, I understand they brought the orphans to the Estate. I want to check on them. Will you join me?"
He obliged without protest.
As they made it into the Estate, they turned right. Just past Sviska's quarters were another few rooms.
"If I have to assume, I believe I know where the children are," she told him.
She opened the last of the long series of doors, and Sviska took a step back as many smiling faces greeted them.
"Berie, Berie! Do you have a story for us?"
The orphaned children were now under the care of Cusis, who came up behind Sviska and, with a slight nudge, pushed Sviska into the room.
At the far end of the room, a roaring fire was burning. The children, numbering nine, were alone now. At some point before, Berie’s fairies came to the room, and the essence of their magic calmed the broken hearts of the boys and girls who were there.
"Now, now, children! I have very little prepared.
But you will find the stew delightful, I am sure."
Berie assisted Cusis in handing out the soup, and Sviska watched as the children took their bowls and sat down on the floors.
A fairy buzzed over near Berie, who took the being on her finger. She smiled at it, “Thank you for watching over the kids."
The fairy bounced up and down on her hand before zooming back by the children.
Cusis took his tray and tucked it under his arm. "I have Slats moving beds from the abandoned rooms. We plan to keep the children here for now. It will be Lord Brethor's choice on what happens after that."
"It seems you have what you need, then?" asked Berie.
"Of course, we are good here."
A girl walked up to Berie and tugged her boot. "Lady Berie, can we have a story tomorrow?"
Another child also spoke. "Can you come see us after your hunt?"
"Of course I will!" She tapped the child's back. "We will leave you to them," Berie said to Cusis.
As they stepped out of the room, she looked to Sviska. "I am glad they are well and in good hands with Cusis."
"Does he have experience with children?"
"Yes, back when Brethor's family was alive, he tended to their children. It will make him happy to do so again, even though the circumstances are as they are."
Back down the corridor, they walked, entering the dining room before going through the kitchen and then into a back passage. Sviska wondered where she was taking him. They were now in a large indoor garden with three massive trees surrounded by an overlook filled with books and other strange trinkets.
"When my father and I came here, we came with just our weapons on our backs, but over time, we have gathered as much of our peoples’ heritage as possible." She pointed around the room. "I would much rather have the elves it belonged to. It is a sweet but sad memory."
Sviska stopped and touched one of the trees and looked up, as it reached high into a windowed and vaulted ceiling. He looked to Berie, who appeared to have a growing sadness upon her face. He wanted to distract her from those thoughts.
"It was nice that you found such a large room so that trees could grow. This has to be the highest ceiling I have ever seen," Sviska said, continuing on to where Berie was tending to a small fire.
"The roof is enchanted. As long as I tend to the trees myself, they will grow and so will the roof. These trees were from my homeland, although they were just seedlings at the time."
Sviska looked around further. Many books, stones, and metal trinkets that he had no guess as to what they were sat on a wooden table. Near a window and pointed upward sat a metal object that stood on three legs.
"Is this a weapon?" he asked, looking at it and gently tapping it with his hand.
"No, no. A tool for looking closer at the moon. My father loved studying the sky. He mapped many stars and recorded them here.” She reached for a nearby book and handed it to him. Opening it up, he flipped a few pages and noticed many diagrams of the stars and directional recordings.
"It was his most precious book," she added. "I always keep it near." She took the book back, sitting it on the table.
The elf placed a kettle of water on a small hearth next to a fireplace along the wall. Within moments, the water was beginning to steam. She took out two sacks from a covered jar, adding a few pinches of each of the contents into the water before removing it from the fire and covering it with a lid.
“This place is cold and, of late to myself, filled with dreariness. I was happy to see another who felt a stranger here.”
She smiled at him, but he was unsure of how to take what she said.
"This herbal tea will most definitely help with your headache. If you've felt lately that you couldn't keep your thoughts straight, and if you have had difficulty sleeping, this will also help that. The long nights normally require more than just one dose of tea!"
She poured them each a cup, and they sat down at the base of one of the trees.
"I have never shared a glass of this tea with anyone else," she said, smiling again.
He gave a quick smile and sipped the tea. The taste was sweet and relaxing; calmness came over him. He felt at ease for the first time in many days. The stern elf he had first met had melted, and he was enjoying the warm conversation.
As they sat there, the moon passed over the skylights and the three trees began to glow. Sviska remembered these types of trees from walking with Brethor to the asylum a few nights before. But they were not as healthy as the ones here. Something about having an elf tend to them must have made them grow much better than simply being left alone.
Sviska noticed a series of lights over the skylights. Through a small opening in the room, the fairies of the garden flew in one by one, circling the trees.
"Ah! My friends!" Berie said, reaching out her hand.
One of the fairies broke from the others as they circled and flew around Berie's face before landing on her hand.
"And this is Trean, one of my closest friends," she said, holding the fairy close to her face. The fairy nudged her cheek in a way as if she was kissing her and then went down to her cup, sipping at the tea. The crystalline body enamored a warm blue, and following the quick drink, the fairy joined the others in the trees.
"When the moon passes the trees of my ancestors, the dust they emit attract the fairies," she explained. "When Brethor allowed me to the Foundry and the grove, I honestly had to beg, but he finally let some of my friends join me. In turn, we brought color to the rose garden he enjoys, and have tended to it since."
"You have been to the Foundry, also?" questioned Sviska, noticing her bow resting against the trunk of one of the trees.
“Yes, I am the last of my kind, and I am the watcher of the woods in the south. I was
given the bow of my people so I may do my part in preserving those of magic. I add meat to the Estate's kitchen also, but my true love is being in the woods and near the ocean. Although the one, I cannot have."
"Could you not go to the grove? The ocean there is—"
"Even in the times since the curse when most magical beings forestalled their differences and made peace, the masters of the seas and the master of the woods have never been on friendly terms. At best, I can describe it as an amicable dislike."
Sviska shook his head and finished his tea. Before he could even set the cup down, she poured him more.
He laughed. "Thanks."
She nodded her head and winked. "I knew you would like this tea."
For many more hours, they talked, shared meaningless stories, and joked. Sviska had never felt calm and at peace as he did now. There was very little he had to think up to say. The peace he felt with Berie was embracing.
After many cups of tea, they both bid each other farewell, an exchange that took longer that finishing their cups of tea. He soon headed back into the main part of the Estate. He thought of Berie. It seemed to him that she was genuinely happy to have spent time with him. From the smile still in his mind, that was what he believed and, deep down, hoped.
Feeling much better after the elven tea, he went to the winery to assure all was well. Adding more berries to the press, he rolled a barrel in place at the far end and opened the trough. The sparkling blue-hued liquid ran down the wooden aqueduct, filling the first barrel with the new batch of wine. It filled only halfway. He left it in place and covered it before heading back out.
Outside, the city seemed to be getting back to normal, at least as much as could be expected after the earlier day's events. The sky was now darker, and Sviska knew it was getting late.
He headed to the tavern. Doing so with some reluctant regard for his own safety, he soon could smell the grilling meat and the large fire at the entrance.
A bulky man, who he guessed was not a normal man at all considering his disfigured face and large ears, was cooking the meat. He scoffed at Sviska as he watched him enter, staring at him with big orange eyes.
Sviska proceeded in, noticing those sitting at the
tables immediately standing.
He continued toward the bar and noticed a man drinking a beer. Turning slowly, the man lowered his mug and glared at him. It was Garoa.
He gave a wry smile. "All right, boys, get 'em!"
Chapter 18 Flagons and Dragons
Sviska's first instinct was to reach for his blade, but before he could, hands gripped him under his arms and lifted him to the bar.
Garoa jumped beside him and picked up a pitcher of ale.
"For the winemaker! And for our salvation!"
There was a cheer through the tavern and a sudden series of stern pats on his back that caused him to gasp for air. If it was not enough already, a flow of warm ale struck him in the face, and he struggled to both breathe and drink as the suds fell around him.
Sviska raised his hand and gave a thumbs-up, and the entire bar cheered. From a corner of the tavern, music began from a band of gnomes.
"Do you like the drink and the stink on the brink,
Of lovely ale and ladies?
Do you want to eat but afraid to seek,
A deal of food from Shady's?
He's just an ogre! A very stinky ogre!
But his meat is cooked so well.
So take some meat, a tasty treat,
And from the ale feel well!"
The lead gnome shouted out, "Hey, Shady!"
The creature cooking meat, who Sviska knew now as an ogre, turned and stomped the ground.
"What!" he yelled, his voice raspy like a man with a winter cough.
"Get some meat to the winemaker! With all the ale, we don't want to see vomit! The last time someone vomited, we couldn't get our drummer out of it! Took three large spoons to free him!"
There was a roar of laughter, and the ogre stumbled over, a chunk of meat on a large poker. He pulled a plate from his waist and set it down in front of Sviska, following it with the greasy brown lump.
"Shady hopes you like!" he said, no smile and rubbing his nose as he walked away.
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 16