"My healer is attending to your mother. If she can be saved, it will be done."
"Thank you, my Chieftain," the man said, tearful and red in his face. The woman said nothing. "We wish only now that our children could be returned," the man added.
Knasgriff bowed his head and then took the hand of the woman, and said, "My dear, we will do what we can to find what has happened to them."
The woman jerked her hand away before sinking her head into her husband's chest.
"It isn't right. We gave fish as asked. We even offered more, but they were not interested. We even offered money!"
"I have nothing to offer other than to say you are not alone in your plight. Men, women, and other children have been taken."
"What need do the Legion have with extra people? What need could they have for a child?" Sviska asked. “They are fighting men recruited from the people. They use not slaves, at least, as I understand it.”
"Well, when you figure that out, you will know more than all the island nations. However, we are not alone in this issue, for rumor has spread that they have taken people across even the central and southern lands. This is no wartime draft, no rounding up of women as a new Legion takes over a region. I have attempted to send spies directly after the kidnappers, but none of my men or women have returned. Something else works in the shadows."
Sviska felt a tightness in his stomach as he thought of the Dark Ones. Kasis alone could kill most others with ease, as could he, and perhaps he would be in the killing business, too, if still in service to the Order.
The door behind them opened, and a man walked in. Taller than Sviska and Garoa, the man held a large sack with both hands and dropped it onto the floor beside the fire. Pulling off his gloves and coat, he stretched before loosening straps on a leather shirt he wore. Pulling his head through the side of it, the shirt fell to the floor with a thud. His hair was long and blond, with a twisted rope of shells that hung down his back in a braid. On either side of his boots were scabbards. Twisted shell handles were set to two daggers extending nearly to his knees.
"Kealin," Knasgriff said. "What news from the northern isle?"
Chapter 3 Kealin
"News as gud as cun be,” Kealin answered. “We have lit the old forge and began to mine the ores. We have been thoroughly searched out by the Grand Protectorate Navy and no luck have dey hads to sees us beyund a fishin' boat or two taking what dey believe to be fish back to the Island."
Kealin turned and looked at the others. His eyes scanned them. "Whose dis here?"
"Travelers, not friends to the Legions or Grand Protectorate."
"Aye, youse say you do not like the Legions. From what cave have you lived? I have met none 'cept ourselves whom have issue with the Legions."
"From a dark cave. Far west. In the mountains," Garoa said.
"Must be from Tar Sol or Tal Aval?” Kealin wondered. “Some of that region have secrets, but I say they have had worse times of late. Seems a great loss of life has happened there, or so the seas have whispered to me."
"We mean no harm to you people here and we thank you for helping us," Sviska said. He looked at Kealin with a particular eye, seeing that his voice had changed. Was this the Kealin that Brethor spoke of at Elinathrond?
"Ah! Yes! Some food for you all, except the short one. He is with Euso."
Knasgriff clapped his hands twice, and a female servant with brown hair emerged.
"Some extra porridge, Chieftain?"
"Yes, Dani, and some for our guests, as well."
Dani disappeared and then returned with four bowls. Dani glanced at Kealin, who smiled a large grin. "I will have none. You see, being friend of the fish, I tend to eat only crab."
"I know, Kealin. The bowl is for the Chieftain," she replied.
"Oh well, dank you for getting it for him den!"
Knasgriff smiled and asked, "Still one with the ocean?"
"As always, you know dat! The sea is life and I have desire to stay of this world,” Kealin said. “I have word from the eastern islands. The shipwrights have constructed a great deal of our special fishing boats. With the forge up and running and a little blade-craft from myself, I think we will be on our way for a special fishing trip."
Knasgriff nodded in reply and then looked over to Sviska and Berie, who had just sat down at the table, joining a confident Garoa, who was drinking the bowl of broth and picking at the fish with his hands. He then tapped Kealin on the shoulder, "Let us talk in private, and bring your items with you. I wish to see the production."
Knasgriff disappeared with Kealin into another room. The door shut and the Saints of Wura found themselves opposite the grieving husband and wife, with a nerving silence in the air.
Sviska looked at the man and woman for a moment and then said, "I am sorry for your loss."
"If I could, I would've died to protect them,” the husband began. “When they came, we locked the door. But the hinges fell onto the ground useless and the door burst into flames as it fell. When they came in, I was stricken and could not move. Something was unnatural about the hooded man that was with them."
"Hooded man?" Sviska asked.
"I do not know if it is something that can be believed, but the man reached out to me and it was like I was frozen and unable to move. When my wife ran at them, a legionnaire tripped her, laughing. When they went for our boy, her mother slapped the hooded man. He drew a curved blade and stabbed her. She fell to the ground still gurgling on her own blood as he turned his attention back to our children. They took both of them and were gone. I have not seen power like that in all my life. I thought there was no magic left, no evil left."
Garoa and Berie both looked to the man before Berie spoke first, "Magic is not the root of the evil you dealt with. But is an unfortunate occurrence that accompanied it.”
"How can you say such a thing?" the woman asked her suddenly. She stood before slamming her fist to the table and said, "I know of the evil of magic in the old days. The only good fortune that has come from the Protectorate has been its annihilation!"
The woman was increasingly tearful and her husband stood with her, leading her outside. He turned to the others and then shook his head before following his wife, shutting the door behind them.
Knasgriff came back into the room, followed by Kealin, and asked, "Where did they go?"
"It seems we offended your guests, and we are sorry," Garoa said.
Kealin went to the main door of the hall and looked out before lowering down a large wooden beam, thus locking the door. He then turned and reached along both of his boots, drawing two large red daggers, each the length of his forearms. He flipped them in his hands.
Sviska felt for his dagger, and Garoa suddenly wished he had one. Berie was still, seeing the reflection of the man who was unknown as friend or foe in the reflection of Sviska's eyes.
Knasgriff took a seat at the table and said, "Now it is time to know what part you play in this. I have thus far been truthful and I believe you may know more than you should just being here and witnessing what you have. I have taken a chance and I hope one I will not regret. Now, you will tell me what I ask, agreed?"
"Is the armed guard necessary?" Garoa asked, pointing toward Kealin.
Knasgriff laughed and said, "Kealin is no armed guard. He was once one of the most highly decorated fighters in the entire Island Nation. As far as the Grand Protectorate knows, he is dead. His blades have sliced more necks than their shell blades could stand. That blood has stained them red. But he is peaceful, at least now."
"Dat peace is temporary," he mumbled lowly from the doorway, "and my blades are red from blood,” he paused and grinned, “Flesh and tissue stained dem up good."
"Be that as it is, you happened upon us at an unsure time within our nation. If you are spies, I shall have you killed. Now tell me what you are hiding. Kealin is no simple man and has gifts of foresight; there is more to your stories."
Sviska looked to Berie, who had closed her eyes
. Garoa looked nervous between them, trying to reckon what was to play out in the next few moments.
"We come on the will of the god Wura,” Sviska said. “We hold an item of power that the Grand Protectorate, or specifically, The Order, seeks.”
"There are no gods anymore. Especially none of magic that remain to face them, those of the Grand Protectorate, or The Order, as very few other than the two of us that hold you in this room know them."
Berie's weapon had thus far went unnoticed by Knasgriff, and she had unbound her coat in a series of sporadic elvish fast jerks. She could throw her coat and draw her bow in less than a second. Sviska's dagger was tight in his hand, its blade already partially showing from underneath the table, and his hands pulsated as his body prepared.
Knasgriff looked to Kealin and then back to them before saying, "If you know of The Order, than you’re either a friend in disguise or an enemy in the light. In times past, their Keepers have graced the shores.” He paused. “I am hopeful that we all can consider each other the first of the two assessments. But still, what are you doing here?"
Above them in the rafters, Berie had caught sight of a movement in the shadows. Someone was there. It moved with haste, and the others had not yet seen its careful approach.
The figure sighted by Berie was sensed by Kealin. His eyes traced upwards. Twice now the shadowy figure had slipped and a dusty trail fell behind the chieftain.
"We are not your enemy," Sviska said.
The figure above them drew a blade and began to leap. In rapid movement, Berie spun to her side, drew her bow, pulled an arrow to cheek.
Kealin leapt from his spot to Berie's seat, and Garoa pushed himself up to block the red blades spinning in Kealin's hand. He expected they were coming for either Sviska or him.
However, Berie and Kealin had seen in the darkness the knife of the figure that loomed above in the rafters. A second after the elf's bowstring twang, Kealin was in the rafters slashing into the fiend above Knasgriff.
The man fell backwards. As Sviska drew his dagger, the man struck the floor of the great hall with blood pouring from slash marks on his chest and an arrow just near the upper left region of his ribs.
Knasgriff jumped up, taking look at each of them and breathing heavy. A few glances between him and Garoa, and they both ran to where Sviska and now Kealin held the man to the ground.
Gasping and smiling the man pointed toward Knasgriff.
"You are foolish old man! You will not live to fight the Legions or The Order."
"Sviska," Garoa said, "Is he of your …?"
"No," Sviska snapped.
This man was no Keeper, or Dark One as they were called now. He did not recognize the marks on his face. A red trident cruelly etched under his left cheek, shrouded with blood running from the man's face.
"I know his marks," Kealin said. "I’ve seen them before on distant shores. Dey are new to the Islands and maybe I can see more in him."
He stared into the man’s eyes. The injured man began to cough from his injuries.
"Conform, dat is what they wish of us. Probably wanted to try to stop our fishing trip, but his mind has faded and too soon I think. Dat is all I can see."
The man gasped and after a last episode of coughing blood, his eyes shut. Around the room cautious stares were abound.
Berie lowered her bow as Knasgriff pointed at her and stated, "You are not of the blood of men."
Kealin looked up, his daggers still in hand, and said, "Elf, by the looks of her."
"I understood full-blooded elves were destroyed,” Knasgriff said, “but the ears, the marks on her face. It is like something from the histories."
Kealin walked toward her, his one dagger pointed at her, and said, "All full elf are gone. I know of only one elf, and he be half."
Sviska stood and watched as Kealin walked around Berie.
"An elf in the Island Nation, a man with no weapons, and another man holding Sishan, the dagger of the great Meredaas," he said, "It is true then: a sanctuary was made for those of magic."
Sviska stood his dagger in his hand and asked, "Kealin, you are half elf?"
"Very quick you are, Sishan wielder. I am not blessed, as some might say, with the life of a full blood."
"I sensed it in him when he arrived," Berie said.
Kealin slid both of his daggers back into his boots, "I have no quarrel with you here."
"As you can imagine," Knasgriff began, "his secret is known by very few, but it seems you all have your own secrets."
"How did you escape memory sickness?" Sviska questioned Kealin.
"You mean the curse, do you?"
"Yes."
"I went north, further north than most. There is a place there where I was safe. As it weakened, I was able to leave sooner, not to mention my being half-elf helps."
"What curse?" Knasgriff asked.
"It was The Order's device to turn all against magic,” Sviska said.
"My spies had uncovered The Order well before this day, but of memory sickness, I thought it was just a natural ailment. The Order however, is not something to just let run around free as they do."
"Fishing trip," muttered Kealin, unlocking the hall door.
Soon after, Slats and Euso walked in. Slats held a smoking pipe and as they came in view of the body, Euso went to go toward it.
"No bother," the Chieftain said to Euso, and then she shouted, "Guards!"
Berie covered her head and bow as the guards came in.
"Search the city and the supports around the top and mid-level. Seems we had an assassin try to open up my neck."
The two guards saluted and turned, closing the doors as they left the hall.
"Where were they?" Garoa asked. "Not too good not to hear the struggle in here."
"When the door is sealed the hall is quieted. Not a thing can be heard from the outside while the doors are shut. It’s an old enchantment that has remained even since the fall of magic. Call it a gift of dwarvish ingenuity. There are many of those type gifts in the Island Nation."
Knasgriff went behind his throne and lifted up a small tapped keg. Reaching under the table, he set out wooden cups and twisted the knob on the keg.
"Have some if you like," he said, and motioned to the others. He took a sip. "It goes without saying that nothing said here today will leave your mouths outside of the present company. Euso is the only other that knows of Kealin. He saved Euso when the occupying Legion torched his shop. He works underground now and hides when the Legion is present."
"A nice place he has in the caves of the city," Slats said.
"Dear man, I had nearly forgotten you. You are different then, too? A dwarf?"
"That. . . would. . . be. . . true," he stuttered. "Um, how do . . . "
"You missed a bit of conversation," Sviska explained.
"The question now is, what we can do for you and what you must do from here? But of that we will take up at a later time, after you all have rested. I can provide that for you here."
He led them from the main hall to a side room, in which servants quickly brought multiple furs and thick blankets, many more, in fact, than they needed — the large fireplace did well to heat the entire structure.
“We were directed here, Knasgriff,” Sviska continued. “We were told our path would become clear here.”
Knasgriff touched his shoulder, smiled, and said, “You are all welcome to stay until that path becomes obvious to you.”
Knasgriff then left them and Sviska’s mind turned to well-needed sleep. It was early evening when Sviska awoke ahead of the others, who had joined him in rest.
He rubbed his eyes, and sitting up he gathered his things and walked outside, where a meal was being prepared in a large kettle. The servant from before took no notice of him as he mused about the room, taking note of the large antlers adorning the wall above the mantelpiece of the fireplace.
From a corner of the room, a voice caught his attention: "So, journeyer from afar, how do you li
ke such a hall as this?"
Kealin puffed a rolled cigar and stared at him from the shadows.
"It is well; I am from the south, so the cold is a bit different for me."
The half-elf stood and led him with an open hand to the doors.
"Join me outside?"
He followed him out, noticing the setting sun to his right over the vast sea, the sun casting shadows from the hills of the island. The mill was now spinning, and flour was being sacked and taken down the stairwell to the lower levels. The air, cool and salty, blew over them both as they followed a path that led up to an upper level along the edge of the Great Hall.
"Chieftain just got the mill back to working. The Legion thought it would be amusing to remove the cogs that turned it 'round. Despicable lot they are."Sviska, I speak with you because I sense you are different than the others."
"Different as in how do you mean?"
"You are of man, and not raised in the ways of magic."
"That you are right."
"I feel you may find more than you seek along your path. I may not be an elf of age as your Berie, but old I am and having traveled as I have, I have seen a many things dat you would find interesting."
"As in what, given you have known me less than a day?"
Kealin smiled, closing his eyes and revealing teeth curved and sharpened like an animal’s. His hand ran up the back of his neck along markings of fish swimming. Fidgeting with his hair, he pulled a shell from his braid and offered it to Sviska.
"Acceptance means you will take the path of gods again, and I bid you do it soon."
Sviska stared at the man's hand, which held the twisted pink shell, and said, "I cannot promise such a thing. The path I took has been lost."
Kealin opened his eyes and raised his hand, then said, "But that is not the only path, and you may transverse this realm again to find the other one. The fish have told me of your plight, your hidden treasure, and your next steps. I am to lead you north into the Glacial Seas and then to the Mouth of the North Winds. There is one there who must converse with you and your companions."
"Who?"
"Dat der is no answer, sir. I only know the path until then. Afterward, the sea willing, we will return to the Island Nations. Take your shell," he demanded.
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 29