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

  The gods worked with the original races and a way to seal a realm was discovered. The Dwemhar would open a portal to the realm of sands, the resting place of Ur, and then close it back, barring the Itsu from the world. The gods of the north rallied with the races of magic and they threw down the Itsu gods sealing them away using the Void of Ages. Though locked away, their power was still felt upon the world. A holy man from the south had used powerful magics to ascend into the realm of the Itsu, but in doing so, his mortal body was no more. The Itsu blessed him with the fogs of the realm of their fallen brother Varua and sent him out to open a path into the world for their return. So became the Itsu Priest who is written about elsewhere. In time, such items as the Galhedriss Arcana and other objects of power played their part in the workings of evil and good alike.

  The poet’s desire for harmony has forever been jaded. It is said if the poet awakes again than the world will crumble as the poet will be angry and destroy the parchment of the great work that is the creation. May the song of life forever continue.

  This is a more detailed look at the races mentioned in the Saints of Wura books.

  Men

  Created by a flash of consciousness in a partial wakening by the great poet, men were below those of the Master races, though not slaves by any means they were meant to enrich the understanding of elves and Dwemhar of the meaning of spirits and mortality. When one of the race of men would die, the spirit would be guided to the Great Poet unless the person had been particularly evil. Such men could remain to haunt the world and even worse, could be reanimated by followers of Necromancy.

  Elves

  Of the first created by the songs of the poet, the elves hold Etha as their highest god and the Elder trees the most sacred plant. They have eternal life as long as no mortal blow comes to their body or in the case of the curse of magic, they become sickened. The Varmark woodlands of the west were their largest kingdoms with Narisond in the East held holy as the traditional birthplace of the elves. In the later years, Narisond became the last stronghold of the elves.

  Rusis

  The masters of elemental magics. The Rusis were unique because they did not require any form of a channeling device such as a wand, staff, or other magical device. Though using one could augment their abilities. It was rare for a Rusis to use such an object, unless in high office or public status.

  The Rusis had one principle city and became sworn enemies to the Dwemhar. Their differences in sciences and magic belief in general led to a massive war and one that ultimately the Rusis lost although the dwemhar cities were decimated. In time, most Rusis were enslaved and eventually killed by the Curse of the Itsu that claimed so many others of magical blood.

  The Rusis had the ability to turn invisible or “Shadowmeld”, though it was a less common trait to see. When hiding from the Order of the Grand Protectorate, it became very useful.

  Notable Rusis: Rungar of the city Rinagres. A renown warrior with enchanted gauntlets give to him by the last King of the city. Rungar made his way to the great refuge of Elinathrond and collapsed. Though he died, his gauntlets went eventually to Garoa, the last living Rusis.

  Dwarves

  Originally from the far north, the dwarves burrowed almost every mountain in the known lands at some point in the ages. The most prominent fortresses were Harrodarr in the far east and to the west along the western borders of Taria a massive sanctuary called Traflar.

  Their patron god was Throka and there were many worshiping places dedicated to him within the bowels of the earth. Dwarves believed that Throka took three stones and burned them with dragon fire until the dwarves rose from the ashes of the fractured rocks. Though not the truth as deemed by the Great Poet, this was the belief held by every dwarf without question. It is said that when a dwarf was born, a diamond was placed in an altar to Throka at Traflar. If true, the value of such a find is unimaginable. Many have searched for such a treasure but none have happened upon it.

  The dwarven culture had many highs but warfare and smithing were the highest. Hammersong were the most elite of their warrior class with the Master Smithy of Harrodarr at the highest level of metal working to be seen in all the lands. It is said that even the Dwemhar consulted with the dwarves as more of their lands came under attack by the Rusis and in so, some devices of dwarven design are actually Dwemhar technology as the two worked together. Due to the dwarves helping the Dwemhar and the eventual collapse of the Dwemhar race, the elves carried a deep resentment in an already tense relationship.

  In the final glory of the dwarven race, they worked with the elves against the evil tide of men and managed to seal away magic from the Itsu in a last stand that took the life of many Hammersong, along with the elven hero Truesong, and even the god Etha.

  Slatnichor became the heir to the ax of Disi and led battles to the east of Lokam and a final charge into the gates of Finar. In true dwarven fashion, Slatnichor became as stalwart as the furnace of circumstance he was placed in. The dwarven spirit lives on with him.

  Dwemhar

  A lost race that once inhabited lands beneath the Glacial Seas and down to the southern deserts. They were the closest to the gods and reached a level of technology not seen again since their downfall. Though many were killed in wars against the Rusis and the Elves, most hid their cities and structures before they were taken by the enemy. There are many secrets still waiting to be discovered. The dwemhar themselves reached a stage of personal enlightenment that they ascended from the realm of the normal world and now dwell in a realm beyond the normal ones of most.

  A truly mysterious culture with little known of their histories, some notable characters of the Saints of Wura books have ties to the dwemhar. Sviska, Brethor, and Kealin all have dwemhar blood though not all gain the powerful magic of the mind as used by Sviska and Kealin. There is much more to the dwemhar that has yet to be revealed.

  Falacar

  Accomplished horsemen of the Far East. Ruled by four chiefs at the time of the war against the Grand Protectorate, the original tribes were under the Blood-Ax. This was an Overlord position that remained within a single bloodline until someone managed to challenge and defeat the current Blood-Ax. If this happened, the remaining sons of the fallen Blood-Ax would be killed and the daughters married off to those the new Blood-Ax determined.

  The Falacar horsemen would swear to the ruling Blood-Ax with absolute loyalty. In events prior to the return of magic, the bloodline abruptly ended and through a trial of combat four men came to a draw unable to defeat one another. These became the ruling chiefs as seen in the Saints of Wura stories. In the end, each Chief took a cardinal direction and became known as the Chief of the North, South, East, and West.

  Iolas

  The harpy women of the Far east. Notorious for the killing of a northern god, their matriarch, Sediya, guarded the lands of the Falacar as a prisoner to the will of the gods.

  The Iolas had a history shrouded in shadows. They were rumored to come from a blood cult on the fringes of Falacar lands. The east was long nicknamed the ‘twilight lands’ due to the dark haze that keeps out much of the sunlight and the belief was that only a blood sacrifice would keep the plains growing the much needed grasses for grazing farm animals. In time, the Falacar would start to raid outside their own lands and it is rumored that the Iolas were once simple villagers that fought back against the tribes. At some point they were blessed by a dark magic and turned to birds to escape the raiders.

  The Iolas as a whole were destroyed on the shores of the Gulf of Alrina attempting to hide after Sediya stole the Galhedriss Arcana. There was rumored to be one Iolas that survived but of what she did, it is not yet written.

  Creatures

  Mermaids- The servants to Meredaas. Peaceful, shy, and sometimes mistaken for Sirens. Whimsical like fairies and easily scared, it you are very quiet you might catch them laying on the rocks looking up at the sky, particularly if the polar lights of Wura are shining.

  Sirens- The warrior class of
the god Meredaas. They can fight underwater, along the beaches, and even in the rivers if necessary. By the time of the war against the Grand Protectorate, many had fallen victim to the curse. Though they too returned to normal after magic was released, it is not typical of mer-kind to get overly involved in events of the world.

  Faeries: Beings of light with healing powers that are plentiful in the springs of deep woods and in flowers tended to by elven hands.

  Druid Keepers: Once plentiful in the many elven woods, they are rare by the time of the events of the Saints of Wura. With the return of magic, more of the may grow from the trees to tend to the forest. Peaceful creatures, they can be roused to fight if the trees are threatened by an outside force.

  Arrowfall

  A Saints of Wura Tale

  ©2015 J.T. Williams

  “She is dead,” my father whispered.

  I wept, my hand on her chest rubbing across her woven dress to the cruel dwarven bolts stuck into her body. I tried to lift up her bloodied hand but she was already stiff with death.

  “Dwarves? Why would they do this to us?”

  “The dwarves did not do this. We are meant to think they did. The dwarves flee for their lives just as we do.”

  I looked up over the grasslands, the bodies of elves laying out pecked by birds with the embers of campfires still smoldering around them. This elf must of died first, the others were likely tortured for a time before finally murdering them as if it was a game. Some were missing fingers and others had carvings made into their faces. The wind blew off the distant sea kicking up the ash and I wiped a tear from eye.

  “Why were they out in the open like this? They know we are hunted.”

  I felt my father’s hand on my shoulder, “They were trying to get home, our city is the last hope for many and what we do now to try to save the others, most do not know. We cannot change that.”

  To my left one of the others with us, Riseaa, stood with his bow. His attention perked up and he drew an arrow.

  “Legion horseman!”

  Three armored men thundered towards us on black horses. These were scouts, roving hunters meant to chase down small groups of elves, dwarves, and any other that stood against them. I pulled back on my bowstring as did my father and in unison fired. Three more were dead. Three more that would never look upon their loved ones again. Good, they didn’t deserve to. None of the race of men did.

  We fled the only home I ever knew leaving it in a state of turmoil and war. Narisond was the place of my people and the grandest of elven cities. Its burning torches stood high on the mountaintops with fires so great they looked like giant moons in the night sky. All who gazed upon them knew that the lands beneath their glow belonged to us and our realm in the trees between the arms of the mountain rivers remained safe. But that safety had faded.

  It was now just before the twilight hour. Taking a separate path away from the main roads, I had hoped that others of my people could escape too, but we were a small group and meant to move fast. My father’s skill with potion making was needed where we went, and it was decided by the elven tribunals that we would make haste, rather than go with the others departing soon afterward. I traveled with him as well as two other elves. My father believed this was best for us but I worried of my other kin. Just like the elves found in the fields earlier in the day, my race was under constant attack.

  From the far southeast, we journeyed north into a realm of men called Taria. I loved the mountains and woods. They reminded me of home just as my father said they would. My thoughts of home wouldn’t leave my mind.

  “What is wrong, child?” he said to me at last, looking to the path ahead. His glance was stern.

  “I’m thinking of home and I am tired.”

  “So are those behind us. Their fingers pull their bowstrings unceasingly as we flee. Think of them and find strength. You must stay strong now.”

  My back tinged at the frigid droplets falling from dark clouds above. The rains had flooded the path once we turned north and passed into the foothills. The way became increasingly steep, but I deliberated over my father’s words. Our homeland guardians had been in constant battle to protect our woodlands. In the last few days even dwarves had joined our ranks. I had always heard they were the enemy of old. Lazy drunkards, without care for trees and flowers but only the growth of beards and coin purse. I am happy to have not dealt with them in person. The lives of elf kind are beyond that of the tunnel dwelling dwarves but now I am told we must work together.

  I trusted the elf kin with us. Riseaa was one of the best archers from our realm and his eyes could see wind brushing the trees, the way the arrow’s path would sway in the wind before it reached its target. I admired his skill.

  The other was Namase. He too was good with a bow, but his knife work had gained him renown in many battles in the ages before. He had been ill before this night following his journeys to the west and he was quieter than I was used to.

  Nightfall came and we began to move more cautiously. While men could not see well in the darkness, our eyes saw clear ahead. But it was to the sky we watched as we moved into the dense underbrush. We walked with swift feet, passing through a herd of grazing deer with only the sound of a faint breeze with our footsteps.

  “Down,” Namase ordered.

  I dropped. Riseaa drew back his bow, checking the branches and bluffs around us.

  My father set an arrow to string and joined Namase in a careful scan above. The boughs of the trees swayed with a great wind, and looking up, I spotted the sparkling of stars. Suddenly, against the stars, moving and swooping closer, I could see something else. Blotches in the sky, black like ash with embers as eyes. I watched as one seemed to flap down in a circle towards us.

  I hugged the ground. The presence of these creatures sapped the life from the earth, killing the grasses and shrubs that fell beneath its presence. The screams of the natural life in the grass was deafening. These things were Dread Beasts, creatures of poison and the grave.

  The roots of a nearby tree cracked as the creature landed in the upper branches. The stench of its presence upon the woods must have been the war drear that I learned of years ago. The elder elves spoke of death on the battlefield and the shattering of life forces. Death was in the air. I could barely breathe, and around me, the grasses withered and browned. Elves can hear the quiet voices of plants and I listened as they fell silent.

  My father did not release his arrow and Riseaa kept his bow up only until the creature shrieked and then flapped away, joining the others flying high above.

  We had escaped discovery, this time. The flock of creatures were ravenous, dropping down and killing many of our kind, who were unfortunate to be away from the safety of our realm. Elves like us. I had heard rumors of one that is said to be the fiercest of the beasts. Andgrast they called it, a forsaken word now among the halls of elves and dwarves alike. It had become a name to mean death, for too many of my kind had died under its claws.

  Everywhere we were searched for. By beasts and demons of the pits from the lands of the south and the nations of men alike. Though once they were our friends in trade and some even as those of like family, they would now drag us out and point us out to any who sought us. A curse had stricken us of magic. One that, to everyone else, was our own pestilence, a sickness of the mind that drives our kind to madness and death at our own hand. I had not seen it in Narisond but those who lived closer to men were not of such fate.

  There was no medicine of Elvish craft that could heal them, and my father knows well of herbs and tonics. I never saw my father cry like the time he spoke the rites of passage for my grandmother. It is not of elves to die in suffering, much less, to die at all.

  Slower we went the rest of the night and until morning, keeping along the bases of the mountains. The lands did not feel as they did at home. It has been many years since the elven gardeners have tended these woods and flowers. The elves had lost much ground in past wars and the gods of the north did little
to help us anymore, too caught up with their own issues and desires to pay attention to our needs.

  It is the war-god, Kel, which we fear. He has been stricken wild and has destroyed much of the earth in his desire to stop those gods of the south. I guess it can be said that he has done something by the meaning of the word, though not in preference to us, for the destruction of earth is not our desire.

  Midmorning came and we had not stopped. Our path turned towards an earthen road, and it was there from the roadside we spotted the gleam of an axe head. At once I was at my knees, my bowstring taut, and I looked beyond the silver point ahead. Namase drew his knives and ran forward, stopping just before the edge of the road.

  “Calm friends. We thought you ill willed and possibly those that search for both our kinds.”

  From the bushes emerged a burly man with a horned cowl. He was stout and held two axes in his hand. A gold and sapphire encrusted hammer slung across his back gleamed in the sunlight. I knew what he was at once. Hammersongs, the dwarven high guard. But for a single dwarf to be alone was odd. I then spotted a much less pronounced dwarf, smaller, juvenile even, following behind him with his eyes bouncing between us elves.

  “We are traveling north,” the Hammersong said. “I am Nurocas. This with me, Slatnichor. I was among many that fled Harrodarr. Few of our people remain there. A great host went south to your lands, elf. It seems our time may be growing short in the world.”