We filed behind my father, whom stood with his hand out. We took hands and formed a line as one by one each person was enveloped and disappeared from sight. I saw a bright light and then my eyes adjusted. I was still on the road.
I looked to my sides and the arrow points of my kin stared at me with their jagged heads. I gasped, and they were lowered almost as quickly as I saw them.
An entire front rank of my people stood before me with their moon crescent shields and large spears gleaming from the moonlight above. My father began walking pass them and I looked pass him spotting many young elves and dwarves in the procession.
“Grand Master!” Nurocas said. He went to another dwarf in heavy black armor, “It is good to see you my friend!”
The stout dwarf was taller than the rest.
“Nurocas, I did not expect you here. I understood that none would be able to find us once veiled.”
My father was now embracing an elf that emerged from the host. Lenias, one of the highest of elven society was a Moon Culler, a High Archon Mage, and one of the few that harvests the magic of the moon itself to spread to the living world. It was his staff, floating high above the host that emanated the veil and protecting all within it.
“You know you should not have come here, but I dare say you have news for us to risk the veil as such. I do hope none saw you enter it.”
“Lenias, the veil may have already been found. We have knowledge that those of the world know of this procession and to attack it. The dwarves we met in the woods here have found a new path, one that is more secret. This is Nurocas and Slatnichor. They will take us to it.”
Nurocas bowed, “How many survivors do you have?”
“Our host is greater than 5000. But of warriors, we do have much less. Most of them remained in Narisond.”
“If we are attacked, we have far too little in guards,” my father said, “I suggest we take the dwarven path to lead us to safety. We cannot wait any longer on this road. You know what risk we face and as powerful as your veil is to discerning eye and attack, we must take care to assure there will not be need to test its strength.”
I was the first to notice the oddness of Namases’ actions but his brother saw him nearly as quick. Namase began to shake uncontrollably. Lenias backed slowly away, as did we all that stood around Namase.
“Brother, what is it?” Riseaa shouted.
His brother was no longer in control of his own body. From his chest a light burst forth enveloping him in strands of fire. A line of elvish shields formed in front of Lenias.
“What trickery is this?” he said.
Namase did not speak or even give attention to the Archon’s question. He drew drew his bow and, even as his brethren and his brother followed suit, he released his arrow towards the staff high above the great host. The fires wrapping around his body followed the arrow’s path and in an explosion of light and trembling that shook the ground, the staff was broken and the veil shattered. A wave of heat stuck all of us beneath it.
Namase fell pierced by elven arrows, as the entire host fell into disarray. They had been waiting.
From the skies above, Dread Beasts screamed and swooped down. I turned, drawing an arrow, but found myself surrounded by men of the Legions. I could see beyond their interlocked shields, their pale, homely faces and the fear in their expressions. I fired, catching one in the eye. Horns sounded behind me and a rush of elven shields collided with the shields of the Legions.
I heard a loud shout and Nurocas and Slatnichor ran pass me, striking into the shield wall and knocking them back. My father was beside me as well as Riseaa, whom released his arrows in quick succession.
“Get your daughter to the woods, Loria!” Riseaa commanded.
I could hear the screams of the young and the wails of babies. The sky darkened above and swirling flames whipped downward, cutting into them. Bolts of ice flew from elven mages within the ranks of people, and in response, the storm clouds above opened to meteors that struck into the ground all around us. The lesser archons formed shields around the children, but were soon overwhelmed. The dying screams of the children carried on the winds between the battle cries and clanging of metal.
Riseaa shouted again, “Loria!”
I turned to see a stone falling from the heavens covered in fire. My father reached for a potion and tossed it to the ground. An arching tree grew from sapling to elder in a single breath and then was engulfed in flames as its trunk took the brunt of the fiery stone.
Shrieking pierced my ears. I turned to see one of the winged creatures land a few paces from us. It was just as the one from before but more massive and it reeked of rotting corpses.
“Andgrast,” an elf cried out, “Andgrast the Devourer!”
A barrage of bolts flew from the elves behind us and the creature snarled, flapping its wings. A cloud of spikes struck us, gnashing into my father, as well as Nurocas and most all of the elves from behind us that had fired at it. Most of those elves collapsed, gripping the poisoned bolts. I felt along myself. My gauntlet had caught one but I was well. My father had taken one to his shoulder but appeared okay.
Nurocas looked to Slatnichor, “Do well, young one!”
He dropped his axes and unslung his hammer from his back.
“Do you wish the blood of yet another Hammersong, Andgrast!?”
The creature paused, snarling.
“Yes, I know your name! You attacked us before at Harrodarr. Are you not yet filled with dwarves for your unceasingly rank belly? Have me!”
The creature growled and flashed its teeth. The dwarf swung his hammer, and with a harsh tone ringing out, he struck the beast. It flew backwards into several trees splintering them beneath its weight.
It rolled and then with claws tearing the earth, it ran back towards us.
My father sprinted forward, tossing another bottled potion. This one burst with a brilliant bright light that forced the creature back cowering. Nurocas raised his hammer again and struck it, but this time the creature swung its wing, severing the dwarf’s arm splashing dwarvish blood into the trees..
“Master!” yelled Slatnichor.
The young dwarf went to go forward when Nurocas pointed with his remaining hand.
“No,” he coughed, spitting blood, he lifted his hammer up, “Go, go, Slatnichor!”
My father shouted after another bright flash from another of his potions, “Riseaa, get her and the dwarf to safety!”
I felt a grip on my arm and Riseaa pulled me away. Slatnichor looked towards me before glancing back to the Hammersong and my father still fighting the beast. He waited a moment before running to follow us.
We ran through the woods. Around us, the forms of others fleeing in every direction was coupled with the sound of agony as arrows from unseen bows cut them down.
“Metla!” Riseaa shouted. It was an elvish arrow spell. He pulled his arrow back and shot it into the tree ahead. A bright light flashed and for a moment, there was enough light to loose arrows.
I pulled back the elf mare string, looking down the well-fletched shaft.
The silver armor of the evil man that somehow gained the dexterity to climb into the tree was in full form behind the barbed tip of my arrow. My fingers released. In a motion, I grasped another arrow, and then another, looking for other forms in the trees until I had loosed multiple shots. Riseaa had done as I had and there were a series of thuds before the woods went quiet and the spell Riseaa had cast, darkened.
Riseaa laughed and nodded. “Very good. As I told you, you will be great.”
I turned to smile at him when the shoulder of his armor exploded into flames from a black bolt fired from high above. I turned, drawing my arrow back and aiming to the sky.
A winged beast flew towards me. I lowered, attempting to fire before it was upon me. I could see its mouth agape, its clawed feet and hands out; I was just about to release my shot when Slatnichor cut it down with his ax.
“ARRGGGH!” he growled, giving a second s
trike to the creature he had brought to the ground, severing its head before spitting on it.
I turned to Riseaa whom was now on his knees and gasping.
“You are injured.”
“I am… I. Just go. Go with the dwarf to the waters and be free this wretched land.” He struggled to his feet and drew an arrow.
It was then there was shouting. “More of them! Over here!”
He pushed me. “Go!” He turned towards the shouting, drawing his bow back even as I saw sanguine flesh running down his side.
I looked towards Slatnichor, who began running again through the woods. I could hear the repeated twangs and screams of agony behind us as Riseaa, elf of Narisond, gave his stand to the Legions of men. He would punish many giving us time to escape. Perhaps my father would find him before it was too late.
I spotted a glimmer on the water of the bay, the moonlight shrouded in smoke from the fires and hell behind us; I wept thinking of my father and of Riseaa, along with all that had been lost.
There was a strange movement on the water and I stopped to stare. There were ships, hundreds, their masts a pale white on the dark waters, rapidly approaching the distant coastline. I shook my head and bowed. I was sure the Legions did not need these reinforcements this horrid night. Slatnichor took hold of my hand and pulled me on.
We came to a rocky shore and the dwarf went to a rocky outcropping. A cylindrical stone was hidden inside a small pillar beside the water. He did something to it with his hand and two crystalline stones appeared. He twisted them and a cave emerged.
“This is the way. Once we go through it will seal behind us. We will be safe.”
With the smell of drear in the air, I closed my eyes and followed the dwarf in. I felt myself rush forwards and then opened my eyes to a dimly lit passage.
Looking behind me, I saw only stone.
“We must go this way,” Slatnichor said.
I paused and looked down to the ground.
“Did you hear me?”
I nodded and then followed him. The center of my chest burned and my throat felt heavy. I could not get the sounds out of my mind. The wails, the crying.
We came to a pool many hours after entering the cave. The water was cold. When you feel the air itself getting colder, the last wish you have is for more cold. I took some drinks and turned down more of the meat from the dwarf.
“How much longer?”
“I do not know,” he told me.
We had traveled for many more hours or perhaps it was a few days. I was tired, with many nights of no sleep. We at last paused and took time to have a few hours of rest. When I awoke, we continued the same as before.
I do not know for sure how much time had passed when at last the paths turned warmer and I began to see more light ahead. We ascended into a larger passage and then up ahead I spotted a light and a shadowed form.
“Who goes there?” a voice shouted.
Slatnichor responded, “Slatnichor of Harrodarr and an elf of Narisond.”
As we approached, other figures appeared, and then one of them ran off. As we reached the figures, we noticed it was more dwarves.
“Welcome Slatnichor and you, elf.”
The dwarf was shorter than the ones from Harrodarr. His eyes were foggy gray and from his brows and beard, he had ice.
“We are the Snow Dwarves, builders of the city of Elinathrond.”
“Then we made it?” I asked.
Up above us, a large door opened and I could see dazzling lights of green and blue ribboning across the sky. An image appeared and then paused in the doorway.
“It is true!” the figure shouted.
The had figure ran down the stairwell and across the bridge before I recognized him. It was my father.
He took me in his arms.
“I had thought you lost when I was brought here and could not find you.”
“How did you?” I began, but then tears filled my eyes. I did not care of how. I was too happy to speak.
“After the Hammersong and I defeated the creature, men, many men from ships upon the bay, attacked the Legions from behind. We fled north for some time and then made it to a tunnel as soon as we could.”
“Nurocas is here?” asked Slatnichor.
“No, dear dwarf, he suffered poisoning from Andgrast as did I but my herbs did not work quick enough. I am sorry. His body is among the others that died after our arrival. Go into the city and they will show you to him.”
Slatnichor followed one of the other dwarves, leaving my father and I alone.
“The sacrifice of Riseaa is one not taken lightly. He will be remembered. When he was found, the bodies of over fifty men of the legions surrounded him. His bow was broken in two and he had taken to using the splintered arm of it to defeat his foes.”
I walked with him back toward the large door and stepped onto the white ground that crunched beneath my feet.
Snow.
I had read of it but had never seen it. I reached down; it was soft in my hands.
The city before us was massive. Spread out before us, I could see no end to it. Above the snow covered buildings, high in a starlit sky was a glimmering of a ribbon of lights unlike any I had ever seen.
“The god Wura protects this city. The polar lights are his pathway and his temple is within these walls. The curse cannot get us here.”
I walked with my father. The city streets were alive with people of magic from all over the lands. We made our way to a large city square. Shops and carts of all kinds line its edges, and men in red robes watched as others directed people to different regions of the city. They held staves that glowed with a radiant light.
My father pointed, “Priors of the war-god Kel. They guard us from the world of men.”
So many had come to this place. But relief of stress was far from me. My mind was on the events that forced us here.
We came at last to a path leading east of the square. I spotted a large structure. A single spire rose into the sky above sharp angled stone walls. Massive windows splashed orange light on to the snow. We paused for a moment and my father looked to me, a warm comfort in his eyes.
“The Estate of Elinathrond, at last, we have made it, my child. The hope of many now fallen but it is here we will stop this curse.”
I looked up at him and a tear rolled down my cheek. He wiped it and smiled.
“Berie, we are safe now.”
…That was long ago now. His words still echo in my mind a comforting thought, a whisper of forsaken memory. Of the elf Namase and his actions on the road in Taria, it was discussed in times afterward with those with gifts of foresight and psychic ability. Namase had found he was sickened with the very curse we fled from and searched all the lands for a cure himself in the months before are flight. In those times, he was stricken with another curse unlike any had seen. What compelled him to act as he did was of a deliberate move by the Itsu, a deemed “blood curse” called the Rites of the Damned. He did not act of his own will. I do not hold him to his actions. I forgive him now, but of the cries of the children and the defenseless, I am haunted still.
In the darkness of the far north I remain but in this icy emptiness I whither and weep.
We are no longer safe… it was never to last this city in the mountains… Mere days ago someone burned my father alive in the winery and the elixir he crafted to protect the people when the city’s protection failed to hold back the curse, is no more. Elinathrond has turned to that of a beckoning crypt, open and awaiting the next fall of the sun to claim more lives. A new Winemaker comes to continue my father’s work but an outsider has no place here… there is something else moving within the shadows… and I am fearful of coming darkness…
Blood of Harrodarr
I hear the crunch of boots trudging through the snow. My friend is coming. I push the lock bar to the side and open the gate. At least there will be one that will share this place with me until the end.
In the middle of the road appears a stout
dwarf, a proud warrior and veteran of many battles.
My friend. One of my last friends. I hear the snap of bowstrings.
"Gimror!"
He is tired. He begins to run, blood already running down his face and a steady stream rolling off his arm. Three arrows slam into his back and he stumbles and falls just before that gate. I reach down and grab him under his armor. When I go to pull him into the gateway, he slaps me.
"No! Shut the damn gates! We have the lower traps set and the doors to the keep are sealed! It is done."
Gimror draws a small ax and smiles, "Let the bastards come for me. I will split their pretty faces!"
I release my grip and nod to him, "Fight well, brother."
"I will. Try not to die before me!"
I close the gate and lock it back. Gimror shouts from the other side of the gateway and then I hear several thuds as more arrows strike my friend.
Goodbye, Gimror.
I stand upon the upper summit of the great dwarf city of Harrodarr. This is the last tower. The perimeter defense in the mountains where our wardrums vibrated into the rocks beneath my feet until only a few hours ago. Those dwarves were the last upon the stairs to the mountain pass. The enemy cannot yet reach my spot. But when they do, I will do what is necessary.
We last defenders are the Hammersong. The Dwarven High Guard. Our home has been under siege and now the wretched forces of men have assailed our holiest grounds. My only happiness is that some time ago those unable to fight fled this place. Many went with them but we could not leave our sacred city to burn without dwarf blood to flow into the halls as a last defense.
For five nights we fought to hold the lower stairwells and now the gateway is all that remains. Some remain within the inner sanctums but I cannot say for how long. I have command of the outward traps. A duty I shall fulfill. The last duty of my life.
Horns sound in the deep and I hear the scalding flames of the forge fires rush down the northern cliffs burning those that tried that doorway. That was Rufidor, my second cousin. If I know it, he barreled hammer first into the shield line after switching the release valves of our molten smithing rivers. He joins his brothers and children that died yesterday.
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 83