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

  "Welcome to Sky Temple, birthplace of the winds of the world and most important to all of us, home to a deity of the old! The air is the most freshest here. I dare say it smells sweet."

  They began to walk, following Kealin. As they drew closer to the large, domed building, they passed two pillars with miniature cyclones spinning atop them. Coming to a hedge of flowers made of blue ice that circled around near other pillars, the cyclones seemed to dance like creatures upon the temple.

  At the pinnacle of the temple, one cyclone grew taller than the rest as it spun around. A harmonious hum of chimes above each pillar rang as the winds rushed around.

  "I happened upon this place in der time of der enlightenment of my mind," Kealin told them. “Now watch that cyclone there. As it spins, the winds of the north, south, east, or west are born and are sent unto the world.”

  The gusts atop the temple wrapped downward into the clouds, and the chimes upon the temple stilled.

  They came to a stairwell and, ascending ten steps, they passed under two archways before coming to a white door. Kealin paused.

  “Saints, you stand now upon hallowed ground. The blood of my family indeed stained these steps. They were like you in some ways. We served the gods’ will and gave offering of life for them. I cannot say it was wasted.”

  With a gentle push, he opened the door, and they entered into a hall of pillars surrounding a single pool in the center of the room.

  The walls were bare, but smooth in appearance. Kealin led them forward to the pool. Looking up through a skylight, they saw the white stars of the night, which shined down into a pool. An icy mist hovered in the center of the water.

  Kealin bowed, took a shell from his hair, and kissed it before tossing it into the water. There was slight swirl, similar to the maelstrom from before, and a small glowing orb emerged. In a twisting of blue and white, an image of a face appeared, curved and pointy. For each direction the wind blew was a single spike and an eye. However, it was a ghastly sight and not like the forms of Kel or Wura from the fall of Elinathrond. The form held to its place above the waters and bounced as the eyes went to each that were present in its sanctuary.

  "Who makes this journey to the place of the winds?" it asked, the voice echoing through the temple.

  "Kealin, dat whom you blessed before. I bring with me those of the world that speak of magic and the city of Elinathrond."

  "Then you bring me those saints of my brother. It seems at last their time has come to set right the world and restore a balance."

  "We were told our path would be made known to us after following the sea god's instructions. We have made it here following Kealin, and we desperately seek your wisdom," Sviska said. "We have brought the Galhedriss Arcana."

  He pulled out the book out and set it on the border of the pool.

  "Long has that been lost to the world. It is well it should return to your realm. I am Dimn, Keeper of the Winds. Although not of form like my kind, I cannot be destroyed, for my sacrifice was made long ago. I live on, for I am the breath of the wind and of the winds I forever exist."

  "So are you alive?" Slats asked. "I mean, you are here, but you are not of form like the others from what you said."

  "Saints, you are wise. I am a life form, but not alive as I was. The other ones called gods murdered me, those that are unlike those you know as Kel and Wura. The gods of the south known as the Itsu."

  Berie bowed before the pool and asked, "How may we return magic to this world, as it is said we must do?"

  "Berie, of the Elves, welcome. To ask such a thing makes me wonder if, Elf, you know what happened to begin with."

  "We have heard the story,” Garoa bluntly stated. "Magic was bad. Curse made. People of magic died and others hid, magic became no more."

  "If only, Rusis, that was the truth. Then it would be a task to simply return it from the realm in which it is, but magic is not gone. It is sleeping within your very world. It is why some items of magic enchantment will work, but others will not. Why some still can use magic, and why The Order has begun to fear as they have.

  “Without magic in the world, my brother Kel became harder to hold and eventually began to rise up. It is why they sent you, Sviska, but they, too, sent a far a more direct attack against Brethor, even with a world used to a false peace watching, as their pawns of war marched through the land. Magic was sealed away, but The Order has used power channeled from the Itsu as of late, and it is of them we fear."

  "I know of the Itsu,” Sviska said. "Their time was well before now. The reasons for the wars and the trickery behind Kel's capture."

  "It is also who gave The Order their power," Berie said, shaking her head. "I know of the horrors they brought upon my and Slats's people."

  "The Itsu seek a way to return to the world. It was I who sacrificed my physical body to seal those of malice away. I have thought that they may be seeking a path back. With magic returning, we will have but a chance against them. However, if they are released, I lack faith that the remainder of the gods of the north can stop them."

  Garoa lifted his hand and conjured a small spark. "Then let us bring magic back. It is simple enough. You are a god; I am sure you can do it."

  Sviska gave Garoa a sharp glance, and Garoa looked back toward him.

  "If I could do such a thing by command, I would. Even my brother Wura would act only upon the world in a circumstance of critical need and there is much risk in doing so.” The god’s many eyes closed and opened, “Dwarf, elf: did either of you witness the alliance of the two races?"

  "I was a young boy then, still tied to mother in most happenings, you might say," Slats said. "I knew of it, but did not witness it in full form."

  "I remember my father talking of it,” Berie replied, "but I was not there. I, like Slats, was young. I saw only a small transpiring of events, as did Slats, but that was near the end."

  "It was the elves and dwarves that sealed away magic, protecting its use and its full absorption by the Itsu. With elvish crystal and a staff of dwarvish design they completed a deed that not even the us gods expected. It is the Dwarven Hand, the staff, and the elvish crystal that you will need. With those, you may release magic in the world.

  “Next, there were two other crystals, differing from the smaller elvish crystal. These were larger and meant to encase magic itself. One was in the West and the other in the East. The one in the west was set in the mountains upon a granite altar. Of the eastern one, its location I do not know. It was the second to be sealed, the act itself veiled in protective magic, and so, not even I can speak of it.

  “Find the dwarven hand and you will have the key to unlock the prison in which magic has been held. You will need to unseal magic in the east and west to return all magic to the world. However, if only one is opened, you will have power within the realms north and south, but as to how far west or east, depending on the crystal's resting place, I cannot say."

  "This Dwarven Hand, is it locked in a dwarven hold somewhere, do you know where it is?" Slats asked.

  "And what of the crystal?" Berie asked.

  "That I cannot say, for even I do not know. It was no creation of the gods and, thus, I can only say that the sealing of the east was last. It is there I would believe them to be, but it is up to you two, Berie and Slats, to find where your people hid away the objects."

  Sviska placed his hands on the book, "Do I leave this with you?"

  "Sviska — or Resua, as you are more known among my kind — you must keep it. It will be needed to stop the Itsu in the final times, but of that book not even the gods have read, for it is forbidden to learn of arcane lore. You are the saints of my brother and of all tasks. You work to bring back a life force to this dying world. It is in you four that we trust to renew what we gods failed to maintain."

  Sviska picked up the book and tucked it into his coat. A wind from the east blew into the room, and the god before them closed his many eyes.

  "It is time for you to leave soon; there
is work to be done in the Island Nation of needed haste. My final two biddings: Kealin, your blessing will be of use to these four, and I bid you use it as well as the blades at your ankles — both shall be needed. My second bidding is beware of magic. With such things come further power and malevolent forces in the world. Old dungeons will release their captors and true desolation will be known in the lands with their return."

  "What are they?" Slats asked.

  But no other answer came and their time in the realm was done. A sharp twisting wind lifted them from their feet. In a flash of gray, their bodies twisted and their eyes became shrouded as they left the realm of Dimn. Feeling as if they had just awoken, they were back in the water, south of the Glacial Seas. The narwhal's horn was over the side of the boat, and coming too, also, Kealin patted her on the snout. She sunk back into the water and began pulling the boat south.

  Sviska looked up. Kersa was in the distance and smoke rose from the village walls, trailing into a dark plume over the sea.

  Chapter 7 Greeting Party

  The tug of the narwhal was sudden. The ship lurched forward. Kealin leapt from his seat near the aft and ran along the side of the boat to the front, rocking with the jolts of the ship on approach to the village walls.

  His hands slid down to his daggers. By the surges in Kealin’s arms, Sviska noticed that the half-elf’s pulse had quickened. Kealin scanned the wall; the guards he had paid were no longer there.

  Before the narwhal slowed, Kealin leapt from the ship and grabbed hold of the outer earthen wall.

  They found the gate leading into the harbor down and sealed. Kealin had disappeared over the top of the wall now. Moments later, the gate rose and the narwhal vanished under water after giving the boat the momentum to move forward.

  Sviska was ready, his dagger in hand he jumped to the docks ahead of the others. He ran to the ramp to the second level and sprinted up the planks into a thick smoke. He peered around, spotting no one else.

  The second level was in shambles. Carts were in disarray, windows broken, and drag marks were in the dirt. Smoldering rubble burned, and where one house was untouched, another burned just next to it. Tables were toppled and broken belongings strewn out of doorways. Something had happened.

  He began up the plank ramps to the third level. Creeping slower now, he could hear raised voices ahead.

  Below him, the others followed. Berie had an arrow set to her bow, and Slats ran in strides to catch up with Sviska.

  Just as Sviska made it to the top of the ramp, Kealin fell in front of him, just catching himself on a knee. His daggers were dripping blood.

  "Legionnaires. Seems the new Legatus is worse than the last. They have Knasgriff and the other guards in the hall. The townspeople are being bound as we speak.”

  "Bound?"

  "Dey wish to outsmart us, I think. But I am in their minds. Seems they are looking for you, dear Saints. But that is not why dey have bound these."

  "How do you know?"

  Kealin laughed and said, "I told you, I am in der mind. Were you not listening to what the deity said? I have a gift. I told you." His curved teeth grew as he smiled.

  The others arrived behind them, sliding against the edge of rocks.

  "What is going on?" Berie asked.

  "The Legions."

  "We can take them," Slats said, his fingers flexing around the body of his ax.

  "No."

  "Perhaps the dwarf is right," Kealin said. "I believe the other of the Legions are not here yet. Der is not so many.”

  The sound of a drum pounding hard at a steady and strong pace resonated around the village of Kersa. Over the sound of the rhythmic beating, a voice shouted above them: "Village of Kersa, as an example to the rest of the Island Nations, you have been found guilty of hiding those that are enemies of the Grand Protectorate. It is by the power of the Grand Protectorate I come to you now in this form. Bow before the Legionnaires in your presence, and submit to their blades the first of every line in your family. We will kill all family elders as punishment. Per the doctrine submitted to your chieftain, you shall also give us all able-bodied males and children as payment this day. The Grand Protectorate is faithful and will use these that we take to assure your further safety.

  “We will not do it. You cannot simply take us away from our families. You cannot slaughter us as animals.”

  There was a sudden scampering of feet. The same voice that had shouted before now bellowed and screamed.

  "Those that do not submit as requested shall be dealt with as so," the voice announced.

  Sviska and Kealin peeked around the corner to see legionnaires holding a man by his arms. A third legionnaire drew his sword and held it above his head.

  “Do it,” a voice said.

  The legionnaire slashed into the victim’s neck and his corpse fell to the ground, twitching and spurting blood over the ground.

  Sviska looked to the people. Everyone was on his or her knees, their hands bound behind them, and many were crying.

  Above them near the Great Hall, Knasgriff, as well as his guards, stood helpless. A large group of the legionnaires stood around them, staring down.

  Sviska counted twenty legionnaires around the chieftain. Another ten were along the back line of the imprisoned villagers, as well as fifteen more near the front.

  A man holding a silver box stood near the front. From within the box, the image of a hooded man was visible, shining as a light above the box. It was unlike anything Sviska had seen before.

  "You cannot do this to us! You must do as the law has always been!" another voice said.

  It was a woman, near the rear of a line. She was tearful and bowed to the ground crying.

  "Just please bring me by baby back! Please!"

  Sviska recognized her as the woman from when they first arrived in the city. They bound her husband in front of her, smacking his face into the ground.

  "Please!" he shouted, "Please, you must bring her back! Bring back our children!"

  "Foolish man!" the hooded image shouted. "Bring him to me."

  The legionaries took hold of his bindings and dragged him away from his wife. She jumped to her feet, lunging at the soldiers, but fell to the ground.

  "No! Please don't do this!"

  Kealin drew his daggers. He emerged on the third level spinning his blades as he walked.

  "Now, now, let us not get anything messy!" he shouted.

  "Kealin!" The Legatus shouted, "I heard you were dead."

  "It has been thought in error many times before. Der has been need for my absence, which relates to the price on my head. I am surprised you would pay so much, and I feel quite honored."

  The others of the Legion did not draw weapons to attack nor step out to challenge him. Their pulses had quickened and what stalwart heart they had sunk away at the sight of the red blades. Since their times as recruits in the Legions to this day, whether one year or thirty years a veteran, the horror of the legend of Kealin had haunted them.

  As Kealin circled around to the husband and wife, the two men holding her dropped her arms. He knelt down to her.

  "I will fix dem up, since your anger is of pure reason. Your family will not suffer without payment. Dey names is Aoscu and Lurta? Those are your children?"

  The woman nodded as Kealin smiled, his crooked teeth flashing toward the commander.

  "I need de ones called Aoscu and Lurta. In turn for them I will allow your men to leave this place."

  The legionnaires who stood near the box and the conjured image looked to each other. There was discussion before the image in the box grew to the height of many men.

  "You! Defiler of the Grand Protectorate! I will not have you spewing threats! Silence him!"

  With hands quivering and blades pulled slowly from their sides, six men from the front group of fifteen began a careful advance toward Kealin.

  He bowed his head, his smile turned flat.

  He lunged forward, his right blade slapping the open ne
ck of the closest legionnaire as his left dagger sliced into the ribs of another. He spun into a third, both daggers held above his head as he made several strikes to the top of the man's chest, his armor now nothing more than a case to contain his bleeding corpse.

  Sviska noticed a properness to his killing. As those that were now dead collapsed, he saw Kealin’s satisfaction in the cracking ribs and easily sliced tissue. It appeared a warmness, long cold, returned to him.

  The remaining three began to fall back, their blades lowered and their eyes wide. Kealin looked at them, jeered, and leapt at twice the distance. They stammered backwards. The forth stumbled and fell, and Kealin leapt upon him, crushing his neck. A twist and his neck cracked under his boot. The last two turned and ran behind the eight others, who huddled around the silver box.

  "Unless you have another me that is on your side in that box, der is no hope for you."

  The image in the box grew even taller, and blackness poured forth like a rolling fog. A grey finger, outstretched from dark robes, pointed at Kealin.

  "Do not fear him! He is of death!"

  The man holding the box set it down. Spurred to act and young in years, he drew his sword and a small knife, running at Kealin.

  The half-elf waited until the last moment, then stepped to the side and dropped to his knees, his left dagger turned in the direction of the Legionnaire. He kept his eyes set on the others. His blade pierced his attacker, who coughed and slumped down to the ground, gasping.

  Kealin pushed the man off his arm and swiped his blade across the dying man’s neck. He stood and began to walk toward the box.

  "Leaders lead from beside you; der is no leader in a funny box."

  Those that surrounded it backed away. Kealin lifted the box and then shut it. "Quiet."

  The legionnaires that were still near him backed away.

  "What say you, Legatus Varac?" he asked, his blades held outward toward the Great Hall of Kersa.