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

  Garoa stepped forward, “You are wrong, Kel. I will defeat the priest. I have the power of the Rusis, that of the earth, fires, ice, and the lightning of the storms at my command. I have read and explored the Galhedriss Arcana and you have blessed me with the staff of your touch. There is not a power left to stop me.”

  “Magic is but one piece of a greater arsenal and that of the elements and that of war are needed, but you cannot defeat the Priest by the power you hold alone. If that power was all you needed, your people would never have fallen. But the Rusis are no more.”

  “I do not need you to tell me of my people. I need to know how I might defeat the Itsu Priest.”

  “The Priest is a puppet of the gods, empowered beyond your realm. I have heard a Priest may be destroyed but there is only one that knows how. That is not a way known to us gods.”

  Garoa approached Kel, “I am not a god and I will do it. I faced him before and if it was not for Kealin—”

  “Kealin is beyond you, Rusis. He has power developed over time and has come to the gods’ aid before.”

  “Kealin betrayed us!”

  “You know little but I will give you what you seek this hour.”

  Kel turned and lifted his hand to the air. A horn called across the ashy rock plains and from the pits of the earth erupted two fireballs that flew into the sky in a circle above them. He lowered his hand, the fireballs extinguished, and with sparks crackling in the sky emerged two creatures. As the smokes cleared from their bodies, they dropped from the skies and landed a few paces away from Garoa. His dragons had come.

  Each stood double the size they were before. Blackened scales with inscriptions of the runic writing of the gods.

  Garoa went to each of them and they lowered their heads. He turned to Kel, “You have cared for them, and you have done this?”

  “The dragons did this for you, Garoa. You had long taken care of their kind in the shelter of Elinathrond. I merely provided a place of rest. From Brethor’s care, they followed you for a time, but after my release, they made their way to my realm and I allowed them a place to grow and develop. They will support your fight.”

  An altar appeared between Garoa and Kel. As Garoa approached it, the surface turned to that of clouds and then cleared to show green fields and fires.

  “The battle for Finar has begun,” Kel said, “I feel the war cries of the faithful. I will not leave them alone.”

  The image on the altar was now on the fields where the forces of Lokam were. He saw Asnea standing near those of Taria. The Staff of Kel hovered into his view.

  “Go and die in a warrior’s way.”

  Garoa grasped the staff and closed his eyes. The power of the war god surged through his body and he felt sharp winds upon his face. He opened his eyes and he was atop one of his dragons with clouds surrounding him.

  “To Finar,” he said to the dragons.

  As the large stone creatures made it to the vines, more of the smaller dog-like ones began to break through. The lines of Taria stabbed and slapped as the beasts jumped into their shields, their mouths drooling and snapping with harshly-edged teeth.

  As the battle lines and the vines began to falter, Lord Utros charged forward. A series of horn blasts and his line of men followed, the host of Falacar wheeled to the south and then broke into a charge along the southern flank of Taria. Lord Utros rode into the beasts, slashing and stabbing at them.

  It was then a roar broke the sky above them. Asnea and Brethor looked upwards and from the smoky clouds came two winged dragons. Following where the vines had been, the first let loose a liquid fire, scorching the ground and sending plumes of deep black smoke into the air. The other dragon took to the farther western path, turning the stone beings into molten rock that could no longer walk and making short work of many of the other beasts. The dragon that had attacked where the line of vines was came back up right near Brethor and Asnea, who felt the rush of wind from its wings.

  Garoa looked down at them, before the dragon turned, landing behind those of Taria.

  The men of Taria turned gasping, not sure at first whether to expect attack or not.

  “Come, Asnea,” Garoa said, “Your bow will do well from this height.”

  It was then to the far east a bank of fog rolling from the seas and the land covered the entire eastern region of the siege. The sky darkened. From the clouds came black forms, landing as smoke among the forces of Lokam. The Dark Ones of the Itsu had come.

  High in the sky, along a pillar of rolling black clouds, came the Itsu Priest. In his hands, the Galhedriss Arcana hovered in front of him wrapped in white fire.

  Garoa’s other dragon floated above them, its wings pounding the air.

  “My friend, take my daughter, keep her as she wishes but also safe.”

  Garoa lifted his staff and his dragon bowed down, spreading its wings. Asnea jumped to the other dragon. Her legs trembled as she grabbed onto its neck, its rough scales rubbing against her. In a furious flapping, the other dragon and Garoa took to the sky in pursuit of the Itsu Priest. They went quickly, and in the darkening sky it became difficult to see him but then a stream of fire from his dragon made his location known to her.

  Garoa held the Staff of Kel in his hands, a white fire leaping from its end and towards the Itsu Priest who responded with a shield of blackness summoned before him. The cloud bank he was upon turned to that of a tornadic fire and he rose high above Finar. In a repeated barrage, Garoa attempted to strike the Itsu Priest but his spells did not break through.

  Asnea attempted to follow towards her father, but the dragon would not comply. Garoa had ordered it not to follow him before their arrival. As it flew over the lines of the Island Nation, it breathed a volley of fireballs that struck into the Cursed Legions, before swooping up and making another pass. Asnea gained confidence in her riding with ever pass and began to attempt to fire her bow.

  The legionnaires abandoned the battering ram falling into orb formations, further backing into spheres of magic as the forces of the Itsu Priest pressed forward. The Island Nation lines were splintered and cut off from one another, even as Ruir shouted to rally them.

  Men of Ukka surrounded the Chieftain and he charged forward, the line of Cursed Legions meeting them as he and his men tore at their shields, smacking their bodies with ax and hammer. A spear then struck Ruir in the side and in a rage, he grabbed the man who had done it, searing his hands as he punched the man, sending cinders all over the ground. Slats watched as Ruir fell upon the field of battle and the enemy swarmed over him.

  The dwarf gripped his ax and a fire surged in his veins as he swung his weapon. As the ground became so filled with blood that his footing slipped and his nose burned from the stench, he struggled to a small area of high ground and fought beside some of the Island Nation and a few legionnaires. He looked to the two people next to him. It was Helgi and Tegon, the husband and wife who had lost their children to the Grand Protectorate, the ones that Kealin had saved.

  Fog rolled over the battlefield in a plume. A black form appeared before Slats and seemed to smile as he raised a silver blade. Slats ran forward, his ax striking at the man but the Dark One dodged, sending a blast of frost towards the dwarf that froze part of his ax. The dwarvish runes became alighted as if fresh from the furnace and the ice melted.

  He ran forward again and locked his ax with the being. It hissed and pushed back at him. There was another flash of turning to blackness to their right and two red blades appeared along the form of the Dark One. In a quick slice downward, the being became nothing and the dwarf stared at Kealin the half-elf who nodded slowly.

  “De time has now come for the end. The battle lines call us all to act.”

  “Kealin?” asked Slats.

  The half-elf rushed into a mass of Cursed Legions. Though these beings had no fear of him in their now-changed form, his blades cut with no difference and many fell within moments in a crackling of fire, bone, and armor.

  The host of the
Island Nation, including Knasgriff, rallied upon seeing the hero of their people was there.

  Kealin pointed to the gates, partially shattered, “The gate of Finar needs to open! Let those of the Islands show dem our fury.”

  Helgi and Tegon ran up to Kealin.

  He bowed and smiled at them, “We will find your children, we will pry them from dis place and you will return to your happy home by de sea.”

  A cheer erupted as the half-elf’s blades cut more of the Cursed Legion down leading the charge on the gateway. Two priors joined them. As the firetrap that had destroyed so many before lashed out at the approaching Island Nation force, the priors shielded the attackers, diverting the flames back to the walls. The stone around the gateway burned.

  Slats raised his ax and began a charge towards the gates of Finar. The nearby warriors rallied, swarming behind him and Kealin. They reached the gates but the battering ram was splintered and useless to them.

  “Dwarf-forged weapons can break this gate, Slatnichor, take it down!” Kealin shouted.

  Slats grinned. He swung his ax and, with each strike, that gate began to fracture and crumble more.

  Arsus surveyed the field. Though the western flank was holding with the strong forces of Taria to the east, his forces were in disarray. The thickening fog had begun to roll up the hills. A few paces away, the Drean’s weapon fired bolts of lightning beyond the battle line into the ever-encroaching Cursed Legions of the Itsu Priest.

  The other men around the camp were already mounting when Arsus began to don his helmet.

  “It is time to ride into the field. We must rally our men.”

  Nrath hobbled with his cane, leading Arsus’ horse. Arsus took the reins from him.

  “Are you prepared, my good centurion?”

  “Yes, I am. It is time for a good fight, Master. I will get my steed.”

  It was then a gust took the hilltop, followed by a blast of black smoke that shot around the tent. A trio of Dark Ones had come. Arsus drew his blade as Nrath was struck down, a blade passing through the back of his neck.

  Arsus went forward, blocking and parrying a blade before two of his men, already on their mounts, rode forward. Both were taken down by different Dark Ones, their horses mortally crippled before collapsing.

  The once-Legatus of the Second Legion took the head of one and then kicked in the knee of another before thrusting his blade downward into his chest.

  The third one sent a blast of fire his way, catching his cape alight. He threw it to the ground as the Dark One charged him, kneeing him in the jaw as he jumped upon him.

  “You are the commander!” it hissed to him. “This day is folly for any that do not follow the Itsu.”

  Arsus’ blade was out of reach. He reached for his dagger but was forced to grab the blade and hilt of his attacker before it cut into his throat.

  “To the general!” voices began to shout out.

  Others had noticed the struggle upon the hill and were coming to Arsus’ aid.

  He felt the cold blade against his neck as his fingers ran red with blood. He looked at the Dark One. Its face was bony with eyes alight in white fire. His strength was waning when an arrow pierced his attacker from behind. The point passed through its hood and landed just to the right of Arsus’ head. The entity fell lifeless as blood poured from the hood. Arsus pushed it off him as his men reached him, pulling him to his feet.

  Asnea passed nearby. She held her bow up and nodded before the dragon turned back towards the eastern line.

  Lord Utros rode up with a company of his men.

  “The western flank is won. We are reforming and marching east to reinforce the lines and the city gateway.”

  He spurred his horse and rode away.

  Arsus looked at his men. “We must go. To the Legions! We must join them in glory!”

  Brethor had rallied the Wolves of Taria near the center field when the sky to the west began to darken to a reddish black. The polar lights stretched in a deep red ribbon above them.

  From the peaks of the mountains came the triangular eyes of the war-god and over the peaks to the field of battle he stepped in his massive form. His clawed hands pointed to the east and the sun began to trek towards the horizon. The sky darkened further and with a pointing finger he then closed his fists and gusts came upon them. Brethor pointed to where Slats and Kealin now fought.

  Rincew growled, “We must get into the city, the end nears.”

  “Let us go then, friend,” Brethor said to him. Runka howled and Brethor laughed, “Yes, you will go to! May we feast on the bodies of the enemy!”

  Brethor ran in lead of the Wolves of Taria, having changed to his more powerful form. His hair was long and he grew in stature. In his hurried sprint, passing the forces of Lokam marching towards the eastern line, he saw other banners of Lokam converge against the continued attack of the forces of Finar. He came around the wall and spotted Slats smashing the gate.

  Above them, Garoa at last landed a spell on the Itsu Priest. The Galhedriss Arcana fell, appearing as a lone fiery comet spiraling towards the ground within the city. It was then, with a last smite from his ax, the gateway to Finar was opened and Kealin with Brethor, the Wolves of Taria, and Slats, charged into the awaiting forces inside Finar.

  Slats smacked and ripped with the head of his ax as Brethor ran forward, taking two more of the Cursed Legions in his hands before breaking their skulls in a sparking crush on the ground. He had used his strength many times before but not upon a battlefield such as this.

  Kealin spun and slashed, sending a spray of fire and ash leaping from his daggers as the many of the Island Nation and the Legions of Lokam fought the warriors of the Itsu.

  Kealin grabbed Brethor for a moment as the enemy broke before them.

  “Dis is the end, you know dis. We at last will be done with our enemy.”

  Brethor nodded, “I hope we both fight well in these moments. It has been too long since we were on the field of battle together. It is an honor to fight with you, Kealin.”

  “I am prepared for the final moments.”

  With those words, Kealin vanished again into smoke.

  Brethor spotted the Galhedriss Arcana falling from the sky and into the center of the city. He signaled for Runka before stopping Slats short of another charge into a crippled enemy faltering before him.

  “The battle will be fought but for greater deeds we are needed now. Take mount upon the wolf and let us move with haste!”

  Runka sniffed Slats and the dwarf, though unsure of where they were to go, climbed on his back. They began to run towards the center of the city, taking no heed of any of the other men of the Itsu and moving with speed to where none could stop them.

  Asnea had seen the book fall also, along with the breaching of Finar. Her dragon now flew over the city. From atop the walls of Finar, green lights began to erupt onto the sky and her dragon was bound in a web of magic. She began to fall; spiraling in the sky towards the city below, her father looked towards her as he flew above. Stretching his staff out, he slowed her fall.

  Below them, he spotted the angular temple set within its own walls separate from Finar. The Galhedriss Arcana had landed within the temple grounds. Garoa pushed his daughter towards the temple grounds and then turned to the Itsu Priest who was above him with a large blade. Their duel continued.

  Chapter 18 The Spoken Word

  They had been riding well into the night now. The mountains were closer but it seemed the ax was not as bright as it was before. Berie slowed their pace to a trot and turned her horse to the south. It began to glow bright again.

  “She is not at Swunock.”

  They were near The Highland Road. They rode south until it turned in the direction of Finar. The ax glowed brighter, illuminating them as they traveled but there did not appear to be anyone to see them. But that didn’t matter because they did not have a choice.

  For some time, they rode and crossed into greener fields, leaving the dryer tundra of
the north. They left the road and entered a stretch of plains crossing the Tirdal river’s southern path. The stars above them glimmered and then began to fade as their Falacar steeds thundered across the ground, rushing them south.

  It was nearing morning and the horses slowed, sniffing the ground. They had came to a rocky region near a stretch of mountains by the southern sea.

  “I cannot believe we have come so far so quickly,” said Berie, “These shores follow the Gulf of Alrina, to the far east of Finar. These mountains are the edge of the Red Mountains.”

  The horses shook their heads and blew air from their nostrils. Berie lifted the ax and pointed it towards the sea. The light which before was strong had darkened.

  “Did we go too far?” Sviska questioned, looking back behind them.

  She moved to ax to her right, turning her horse with it. Making a full circle she lowered it.

  “Maybe the spell has run out,” she said, “We were on the right path and the sea is just beyond those cliffs. We cannot go much further south before we are in the water.”

  “We need to pray they did not take flight out to sea.”

  They kicked the horses and began towards the cliffs. Beside the sea, the mountains rose; a small beach ran between the sheer cliff side and the surf and, cresting the top of the hill, they began down the other side, spotting the dark water before them. The horses seemed unsteady, jerking back and forth. Sviska attempted to calm his by rubbing its mane.

  “For Falacar horses unafraid of battle, it is strange they do not like this path.” Sviska said.

  “Then let us leave them and walk, I could use some time on the ground.”

  Dismounting, they passed through a grove of palm trees and low-lying bushes, pushing into a clearing. They heard crying over the sounds of the nearby waves and the wind blowing along the beach. The sands danced as the winds broke upon the cliffs. Again, they heard a soft weeping.