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

  He could hear the ocean, the waves below him casting salt into the air. The legionnaires began to jog directly at him. The light of the rising sun cast off their armor in a glimmer of light.

  Sishan hummed in his hand. He spun the blade, thinking of the water below. The legionnaires halted and Sviska smiled. He was new to magic, but he knew that his blade could help him command it. On either side of the walkway, tentacles of water flared up, snapping and twisting.

  He pointed his blade and the sea made short the lives of the men before him, slapping them from the walkway and dragging them to their deaths in the depths below.

  He ran toward the atrium where fighting continued. A legionnaire saw him and charged him.

  He locked blades with his attacker and grabbed him by his armor. Side stepping, Sviska tossed him into an approaching trio of men. Jumping within them as they fell in confusion, he drove his blade into each of them before they could stand back up.

  Behind him, Berie loosed an arrow that caught another appearing legionnaire by surprise. It was then Slats appeared, his ax caught in the shield of one them who was pushing him against a far wall.

  As Berie's arrow once again finding its mark, it gave him a moment to catch his breath and as the man fell dead, Slats pried his ax from the shield and grunted. Out of breath, he looked to Sviska and his eyes widened.

  "Holy! Sviska! It is you! I cannot believe my eyes!"

  Garoa, Tvila, and Knasgriff, having killed those within the great hall, began down the walkway in a sprint. Slats, Berie, and Sviska turned to the doorway where Kealin began to form a pile of corpses.

  Covered in the entrails and dismembered parts of his victims, Kealin did not stop. As the remaining defenders came into the room, he shouted. His blades swung in defiance as more poured in, either from not knowing that the half-elf awaited them, or by fear of death by their own masters. In any case, they faced Kealin’s duel red blades. The cracks of their helmets and the spray of their blood added to the spectacle of unbelievable action that was Kealin.

  Where the remaining defenders were now was unknown to the chieftains and Saints. The remaining few that fought did so with a zeal that Kealin himself might have had difficulty matching. If it was zeal or a blood lust, none could guess.

  In a hard push, a shield line smashed into Kealin, forcing him back. As the doorway opened more men emerged, and Garoa shot forth a molten stream toward the opening, forcing back the assault as men tried to avoid the burning magic.

  It worked well. However, all his casting had left him weak. On top of the events at Elinathrond, he’d had no food; he grew weary. Sviska worked to fight toward Kealin.

  Another horn sounded. The tone was much different and higher pitched than any that were heard previously in the morning air. The songs of the horn calls reverberated through the entire region. Many horns followed its sounding, and then finally the deep horn of the Legions began to blow in short repeated blasts.

  The legionnaires shouted to one another, "Retreat, we must retreat!"

  In a rush of feet, the Legions fell back away from the door. Those that tried to run who were still within Srun were cut down by the defenders, who took advantage of their distraction.

  The host of the Island Nation emerged from the shattered gateway and looked out as the Legions retreated in a disorganized mass. There was a thick cloud of dust southeast of Srun that actively circled back around further south.

  "Is this some magic?" Knasgriff asked, his mouth agape in wonder.

  "No, I do not think so," Tvila said. "I see horsemen."

  A hawk cried above them, and Berie took notice. It landed at her feet with a rolled parchment on his leg. She knelt down, and stroked the bird’s head. She recognized it. Opening the message, she saw a simple inscription:

  Survivors of Srun, we come to your aid. We are here.

  From the eastern plain over the rocky recesses and amongst the fleeing Legions came horsemen firing curved bows from their saddles.

  They circled around the retreating Legions, cutting them down before riding closer and firing arrows at the backs of the ones out of sword range. They would then form again, killing more in the panic.

  A band of riders broke off from the other horses and proceeded toward the weary defenders. Berie drew an arrow and those who remained assured their arms were in hand, as they crowded back around the door. Within the group were both men wearing armor of the Legion design and others that they did not recognize.

  A figure riding a tan and red horse, as well as another rider of the Legion, left the others at the base of the Ocean Path. They dismounted, putting away their weapons.

  Those of the Island Nation did not. As they approached, the man of the Legion took off his helmet.

  “I am Legatus Arsus of the Second Legion, once loyal to the Grand Protectorate but no more. We come to aid you in your struggle.”

  Knasgriff stepped forward and said, “You have routed many men and for that we thank you. But how is this possible?”

  Arsus motioned to the man next to him and said, “This man comes from the east and seeks those of magic.”

  "It is well to see an elf after these many years," the man said. His dark skin appeared almost reddish in hue.

  Berie looked behind her at Sviska and raised her eyebrows.

  "Do I not speak the common tongue well?" the man with Legatus Arsus asked, "It has been some time since we had dealings in the west, but we feel it is unchanged for the most."

  Sporting long, black, braided hair, the man wore a leather hat, with feathers that came off the back of his shoulders. He had a light-colored vest, to which he had two knives affixed. His boots were of fur, and each had a spike that came off the heel.

  Sviska stepped forward. He had seen this type of person before. When he at first arrived in Elinathrond, he had seen others in similar dress. The man had cheekbones that were high and a bare forehead, other than a red paint streaked across his brow.

  "I look for the Saints of Wura. I was sent to assist them. My people are below and taking care of the evil doers. Though our numbers are not great, we use tactics I believe they have not seen in some time."

  "Who are you?" Sviska asked.

  "I was sent, and with me comes a token that I am to show before explaining my identity. I must be sure you are those for whom I search."

  The man reached into his vest and pulled out a card. He turned the card, and the defenders noted that it was white, blank, and held not the least bit of anything important to any of them. Any except Sviska.

  Sviska stared at the man and reached into his own coat and pulled forth the white card the Gypsy Mother had given him.

  "Sviska," the man said, "I am called Bloodhawk, and I come with the blessing of the Gypsies. We have come to assist you in your tasks."

  The Legions were now in full retreat. Other than the few horsemen who had come with Bloodhawk, the others had taken up the fields where the fort had been and pillaged what was abandoned there. The siege of Srun was over.

  There was little more than a quick greeting said between Bloodhawk and the others as he lent a hand pulling bodies from Srun, which took the greater part of the early morning.

  Those horsemen that helped them were given more thanks than to be numbered by the Island Nation, and even more so as Bloodhawk worked quickly to help the many injured defenders. As many that there were that were helped, many more were dead.

  Slats found Euso knocked unconscious, but he came to with a few swift slaps to the face. Otherwise, he was uninjured.

  Ruir was in worse shape, with multiple lacerations and stabs wound, but he, too, was well, having Euso tend to him.

  Kealin, Slats, and Knasgriff worked to prepare a meal from their supplies, while still others stood around in shock of what had transpired.

  Bloodhawk had sent for his own healers and expected them soon.

  Arsus stepped away from Srun for a moment with Sviska and Berie.

  “You kept your word,” she said to him.


  “We were preparing to march,” began Arsus, “but it was then Sediya noted the horsemen coming from the east. I rode with my own horseman to meet them, and they wished to be led to Srun, seeking those of magic still within the land. My legionnaires come still, and we will offer aid as we can.”

  Many had fallen in the hours before. Among the dead, the messenger for Maerin, Dargi, as well as the old man, Chieftain Colui of New Srun. With them were most of those who arrived before the battle, as well as many who had come with Kealin.

  Tvila sat alone above the body of Colui, which was laid next to Dargi. Garoa went to her, but in his own mind he was troubled, the many events of the last few days still on his mind.

  The healers sent for by Bloodhawk arrived, and though their methods made Euso wander of their practice. Wounds that were not too deep healed very quickly, and those deeper ones were soothed and the injured saw their suffering lessened.

  Bloodhawk went to Sviska.

  "We came as soon as we could. When the Gypsy Mother read the cards of imminent attack on the Saints of Wura near the sea, we gathered our brothers and sisters among the tribes of my people and rode for the mountains. We have long-awaited your coming in the east, and it was in many moons since before Elinathrond our people had last looked upon this land."

  "Thank you for coming with haste, though there is much I do not understand."

  Knasgriff signaled for them to come. Food had been prepared, and it would be a good time to discuss and ask questions among the many present.

  Although Bloodhawk followed, he did not eat, but stood as the others did. Kealin paced the outside of rim of the room, also not eating. Arsus sat with some of his men at the side, doing his best to avoid hateful glances by warriors of the Island Nation.

  After what hunger they had was satisfied, there was talk of the happenings of Garoa and Sviska, as well as the reunion with Brethor and what was witnessed at Elinathrond.

  Slats and Berie told of meeting Arsus of the Second Legion, as well as of Harrodarr and Narisond, and of the mountain people in Swunock and the demon of Ustavis.

  When at last they shared their stories and explained the events leading up to the attack on Srun to Sviska and Garoa, Bloodhawk joined the conversation.

  "From listening it seems that much has transpired, but I fear that my story is pale in comparison. My people, The Falacar Tribes, awaited the return of magic so that we could once again be within this part of the world."

  "What do you mean, return to this part?" Knasgriff asked him.

  "We were sealed away."

  Berie pointed and said, "We heard of this, in the mountain village. Arsus spoke of the 'Passage of Solitude'"

  "That is what it is called in this land? Well, it is a place of sacred protection for our realm. There are others of magic, but it was due to deeds of long ago that we won the blessing of protection then. Even with magic sealed in the western lands, in our area it was free to use, but we could not leave. It was as like our realm was beyond that of your own."

  "There was a priestess," Slats said. "She told us that she was bound to protect that past by way of old magic until magic was restored."

  "The wretched Sediya! Beware that one! She is crafty and is not a friend to the Falacar."

  Arsus stood, “Do not speak of her as such, horseman.”

  Bloodhawk rose his hand, “I do not mean to draw quarrel, but Sediya is older than most of us in this room and of questionable alliance.”

  "She showed us no ill will while we were there,” Berie stated.

  "She would not. The spirits forbid her, and that must be how we stayed protected. Of her I will not speak now, but know we cannot trust her."

  "You are not part of 'we' at this time," Tvila said. "The Island Nation knows not from whence you came."

  "We are of the eastern region."

  "What I mean is the priestess that they dealt with is no less a stranger than you."

  Slats tapped his finger. "But he did rout two Legions and save us, and Arsus’s men have done much, and they plan to continue to do much for us."

  "More like one Legion!" a voice boomed from the walkway. Ruir felt somewhat better, but remained laying down. "We killed half of 'em before any of these horse-lovers came! We are the true warriors,I say!"

  Bloodhawk nodded and said, "I wish only peace with you people, and I will not speak further of the priestess, but I have my opinions. What now must we do, Saints of the god Wura?"

  “The Second Legion is your ally, if you will have us,” Arsus said. “We must see the glory of our realms returned. My men will fight against the growing evils in the land.”

  "We must release magic in the rest of the world. There is a place to the far west," Sviska said, "but we might be better to partake in a fishing trip to soften expected resistance."

  Kealin laughed and then said, "A fishing trip, indeed, and I hear of slave ships. Dey cannot be left occupied by your peoples. I will keep well on my promise to Legatus Varac."

  Tvila and Knasgriff both nodded.

  "I do not understand this 'fishing trip'," Bloodhawk said.

  "I feel that our trust is enough to say this given your knowledge thus far; it is an attack on Lokam," Knasgriff explained. "We have prepared and been hindered by recent events, but now with magic we will assault their fortress."

  Garoa nodded, "We must not wait. My daughter is there."

  Tvila looked toward him and then looked down, obviously surprised by his words.

  "As well as the Staff of Kel," Sviska added. “We must hope that magic to the west extends to Lokam, or we will not have the advantage we hope. Kel is there.”

  "The war god?" Bloodhawk wondered, confused. "He has not fallen?"

  "I can explain further, Bloodhawk. We shall talk later," Slats said.

  "Can we count on your tribes?" Sviska asked. "Will your people join us?"

  "I will confer further knowledge to my people, but I can say we will fight. I was told of the horrors of the curses of this land, The Order, and other such by the Gypsy Mother. I have much disdain for such workings."

  Knasgriff stood and said, “Then it is from here, good men and women, that we further our plans to not only restore magic," — he looked to the Saints of Wura — "but also to end the tyranny of the Grand Protectorate and bring back a balance to the world through magic and blood, as necessary."

  The others nodded and Bloodhawk bowed. He said, "I will speak with my people and return in time to speak with Slats of the histories that I do not know."

  "I will wait for you," Slats said.

  Bloodhawk departed and there was a quiet laugh from one of the pillars. They turned to see Kealin leaning against a column, his jagged teeth gleaming as he looked at them and one of his daggers swinging in his hand.

  "Magic is good, but much more blood is gonna be necessary for dis, I think."

  His laughed grew, but then silenced as he placed his dagger back to his sheath. "Yes, more bleeding is needed."

  The Half-Elf departed, and the remainder of the group at the table looked at one another.

  "What more can we ask now?" Knasgriff wondered. "We have now former allies of the Grand Protectorate itself, possibly the tribes of horsemen, and preparations from Kealin and our own people."

  "We can ask for sleep," Slats whispered, laying his head on the table. "Just sleep.”

  With that, he closed his eyes and snoring filled the Hall of Srun.

  Reckoning in The Void

  Saints of Wura Book Three

  ©2016 J.T. Williams

  Chapter 1 Promises Kept

  A cold, solemn sea breeze blew across the deck of the vessel tinged with the smell of smoke and blood. Looking out from the rails, his fingers gripped his sword as the cranking of the anchor prepared the ship for sailing. They had spent much time idle and the news of the events at Srun had reached him on bloody parchment. In spite of the news, the slave ships of the Grand Protectorate would still make their way towards the protected shores n
ear Lokam. He would deliver news of the failure in person. The lands to the east and the Island Nation were vile and undisciplined but somehow they had succeeded against his mighty Legions of the Grand Protectorate.

  He would retire to his room. He did not care for the sea and furthermore longed for his own bed. It was his hope that what few remained of his men would be blessed as was the First Legion. But now, he wondered of his own men. What fate did they meet in the bloodshed upon the eastern shores?

  The captain’s quarters were unsettling to a Legatus so out of place. He did not care for the sea and even less so now that the ship was underway. He felt sick but it was a mix of the rocking ship and his own nerves.

  Soon, I will be free of my burden.

  The day faded into the deep blackness of night. He looked out the windows of his quarters. There was no moon and it had begun to snow again. He desired deeply to be rid of the wasteland of the north. He lay down for a moment, placing his hands under his head but, tossing back and forth, he could find no rest. He went back outside.

  Patchy clouds blotted out the starry sky and the sounds of the water breaking before the bow of the ship rushing them south comforted him. There were few others on the deck. A small number of legionnaires, some deckhands managing the ship, as well as a lone centurion walking between all of them.

  Fog rolled over them with the deafening squeal of a whale in the distance. Something hit the ship with repeated clanks and the centurion drew his sword. The Legatus felt for his own and noticed two more ships coming alongside them. The fog had veiled them until this moment.

  “To arms, now. Wake from rest, you fools, and to arms!”

  The Legatus jumped, seeing grappling hooks along the side of the ship.

  The centurion spun his sword in the air, “Defend this ground! Do not let them get a foothold on the ship!” He then looked to the Legatus, “Would you take command of us, Legatus?”

  An arrow whizzed past the Legatus’ face, striking the door of his cabin. He said nothing to the centurion.

  “Defend this ground, men!” the centurion shouted, “If you ever wish to see your families again.”