All around them, the polar lights appeared and began to dance about. The hues of green, blue, and red swirled in succession around each of them, and then just above the book, a faint image of a hand appeared and rested on the book. The silver latches that held it in place released, and the lights returned to the skies around.
There came an ominous voice within the chamber. "When the Founders’ heirs come together, the time of protection has passed."
"Sviska, Resua," said Brethor.
Sviska approached. Berie was looking down now, and Slats gave him an uncertain look as he adjusted the strap for his axe and looked around as to where the voice could have come from. Brethor smiled as he lifted the book up and pushed it against his chest. Sviska took it, his hands trembling as he grasped the cold cover.
"That is your purpose, Sviska. This is all of your destinies. By no accident, you have gathered in these times. You must depart and take this with you. The Order must not have it, and long have I awaited the day that I would be free of its keeping."
"Where will we go?" asked Sviska, tucking the book into his coat.
"Take the way to the Foundry, go to the grove. Meredaas will direct you a safe direction. He knows of the next step and can guide you."
"Will you not come with us? You have the same marks on your hand as we do. Will you not help us?"
"I, too, am a Saint, but of a different time. I must defend the city long enough for you to escape. These happenings were foretold, and my end—I am well ready for it."
In that, Brethor gave a smile to each of them. He took a step back, and the polar lights surrounded him. "I will await you all in the Estate. I will protect the path to the Foundry."
In a flash of light, he was gone, and the room was once again dark except for the single lighted path.
Sviska turned to the others.
"So, we’re leaving, then?" asked Garoa. "I might have liked to gather my things. My own estate has many things. Perhaps my nice chair?" he cackled. "What are we doing? We barely know each other, much less anything about some book."
"It is not just some book," Berie told him, an angry tone in her voice. "It is the Galhedriss Arcana, the scriptures of Galhedriss, the matriarch of magic of the times before dwarves, men, or even elves. And in it is contained all of what the Order seeks.” She took her bow from her back and set an arrow to the string.
"I suggest you all be prepared, for the inner sanctum of the temple has shielded us from the hell above. These are the final moments of this city, but it will not go without a fight."
"Prepare?" asked Garoa.
"The book has been taken, and the Order will know. They will be upon the city."
The elf began to back out of the room, with Slats behind her, struggling to free his axe from its harness. As he brought the head of it to his hand, he gave a strange growl.
"Lest the dwarf's axe stop, then only will the heads of the enemy be safe." The dwarf laughed and followed Berie.
Garoa and Sviska ran to catch up.
"So poetic," Garoa teased.
As they ascended into the Temple of Wura, they found the golden flames still alight but the frame of the temple was gone. Through broken-down stones and splintered wood and fire, they could see the Brotherhood of Wura and their captain surrounded by black beings like dogs with spiked arms and legs, their mouths gaped open with red teeth and their eyes as flames.
Reaching where the door of the temple would have been, the flaming shield fell.
Berie’s bow twanged, and Slats shouted. The scream of one of the hellhounds came next as his axe was driven into its body. Garoa twisted his hands and set loose two fireballs as Sviska drew his blade, running to the aid of the captain, who had locked blades with a Dark One. It was not Kasis, but it fought with the skill and finesse of a great swordsman.
Sviska jumped forward. He caught the blade hilt of the Dark One, and it turned its attack to him, arching high with his blade.
Runa struck his leg as the Dark One lunged, and he faltered, looking back at the captain.
Sviska slid against it. In a series of blows to the lower stomach of the being, Sviska had bested it. With a shrill, it collapsed to the ground. Sviska flipped Sishan in his hand and dropped to the ground, plunging the blade into his neck. He looked down at the person, blood pooling out of his mouth. He felt his pulse against the hilt of the dagger and waited for a moment. The thumping stopped. He withdrew the blade and stood. The hellhounds made shrill howls and fled toward the western part of the city.
The remaining Brotherhood of Wura and the captain, who was out of breath, gathered together. Sviska joined them, along with the others.
"Just after you went in, they descended. That is the second of the black beings we have killed. In mere moments, the temple burst into flames, and we have held this ground ever since. I have word the outer wall has already fallen. Men fight on the ground and beasts come from the skies."
"We must get to the Estate. Did Brethor get to the Estate?" Sviska shouted.
"He opened the Dwarven Tunnels, but I know not for sure where he is."
"And what gift did he have for them at the tunnels?" asked Slats.
"Their freedom. It is a path away from the mountain and hopefully to their safety. I know we sent men with them to offer protection, and I fear they were the lucky ones."
There was a low roar over the city, and a series of white orbs erupted upward from the walls into billowing clouds. The Priors struggled to hold back the attack.
The captain pointed. "We will head to the Estate. In the East Square we are forming a last defense. The Priory is attempting a spell to stop the Legion as they march up Tareh Way and the Mirenor road. We are the fall back if it does not work."
Winged creatures descended from the clouds, landing on the roofs of the city and trees in the open spaces. The beings began terrorizing all who were there with harsh howls and screams. Dropping down to the ground, some skulked about, slicing any they could find with their claws at the end of their spiked arms.
The Saints and Brotherhood of Wura began toward the Estate. There were bodies strewn about and random fires erupting in the city. People still emerged from their houses, their belongings and their families in tow, panicked as they ran toward the gypsy circle.
Behind them came a group of the Brotherhood of Wura, hustling down the main way. Their shields locked as they formed a wall as more hellhounds in the distance began into a charge.
Berie took point and pulled herself onto the overhang of a building on the far edge of the square overlooking the gypsy carts. Kneeling and notching an arrow, she let loose two in quick succession. As they flew from the elvish bow, the arrowheads split and shattered into a flurry of stars, the many points striking the hellhounds, dropping one after the other, dead.
More people were running from all over the city toward the gypsies. From what Sviska could see, their carts followed a continuous circle as a blue glow began to shine from the center.
The daughter of the Gypsy Mother came to Sviska.
"You must give us time. We have a way to get many out, and our charm is almost set. We are taking all who remain with us, but we must have more time."
He looked at her with his eyebrow raised since he had barely spoken to her before. He nodded and shouted to Captain Runa, "We need to assure the gypsies have time for their escape. They are the last of the people of Elinathrond who have a chance”
The captain turned to him. "Okay, but they are here." He pointed down the center road. The Legion had arrived.
In a large mass, their silver armor, like a single blade of a sword, filled the space between the two rows of buildings with at least fifty men. They presented a long line of shields; the numbers behind them were unknown. Their banners flew in the snowdrift as they lowered their spears and marched toward the square.
Captain Runa pointed with his sword, directing those of his men to form a line in the square. The shields held the front line, and a second line of men holding spea
rs formed just behind them. They placed their spears between the front row and knelt. A jagged trap was set to hold the Legion.
The Priors formed at the opening of the Mirenor road and the East Square. Their numbers were less than ten, and it was in haste that they formed a single-file line, with their staves alight in white fire.
"A cleansing spell," said Garoa. “They are so few, though.”
Sviska looked to him.
"I have only heard of it, but it is said to rip the life force of any creature. But to use it, the staff of the war god would be needed, but to be effective at all, they need more Priors."
"I do not feel they have a choice."
Their robes furled as they began to walk forward. An arching light from their staves struck the front rank of approaching warriors, and the warriors began to fall one by one. Sviska looked up to the roof of the building and noticed hellhounds gathering above. He pointed for Berie, and she twisted her bow up, striking two of them nearest to her.
Garoa shook his head. “It is not enough.” He ran forward, and his hands began to glow white. The Rusis was going to help the Priors.
At that moment, more hellhounds leaped down and broke the rank of Priors. As their staves lost focus, they each fell in quick succession. The cleansing spell had failed. Garoa’s hands switched from white to red with fire, and he cast two explosive blasts, chasing the beasts away from the bodies of the Priors.
Berie's arrows flew continually. She drew back again, aiming for the center of the rank who was still recovering from the Priors’ spell. A fiery bolt erupted from her bow and scorched two more men.
From a side alley emerged a woman and four children. She looked to her left and right. Two ran ahead, headed for the shield at the line in the square. But the other two were small, and the woman struggled to hold them. She was between the two walls of shields, and the Legion marched nearly on top of her.
From the opposite alley, more of the Priors appeared. Their staves alight, they turned to the approaching tide of the Legion, stumbling to lower their staves as they spotted the mother and those nearly upon her.
"Move to the gypsies, child!" one of them shouted.
She grasped her youngest child and lifted her to her shoulder, dragging the other behind. The Priors brought forth their staves and fired their white orbs, knocking back the front row of the Legion.
From the walls of the buildings, the winged creatures leaped down again, devouring the Priors. The woman turned and screamed as the creatures lurched toward her. The Legion was also nearly upon her.
Sviska, Slats, and Garoa ran forward, past the Wura line. Slats burst ahead of Sviska. With a deep shout, he jumped over the woman and tumbled, axe first, into the Legion's rank. His weapon swung with every bit of dwarfish strength he could muster. With shouting and clanging of steel, he pounded back those of the Legion.
Sviska ran for the child and mother. The winged creature nearest them was upon him but could not withstand Meredaas’ blade. The blade sliced across its head, followed by a stab to the chest just below where its wing connected to its body.
Garoa stood behind him, and Slats had stumbled back behind the Rusis. Garoa placed his hands forward. His gauntlets alight with a golden glow, he summoned the powers within him, and the air before him turned to a radiant fire. He pushed his hands, and the wall of flames covered three rows of men in front of him. In response, a volley of spears flew toward them, bouncing around the stones of the street. The Legion marched on, and Slats ran forward again.
Sviska took the child in his arms, and Garoa grabbed the mother and the second child. They hurried back past the line of Wura, which advanced at a sluggish pace, a stalwart line to meet the Legion.
The dwarf was still in the fray of battle. He gave a shout, spinning with his axe and knocking back the line again. He turned toward the others and ran. A flurry of arrows from the elf flew past, slowing the Legion a few moments more. As the Brotherhood of Wura halted their slow advance, Sviska watched behind as Slats entered the square.
"Aye, my sir, the power of the dwarves is with me!"
Sviska and Garoa reached the gypsy circle. The mother went in, and the children followed her.
Berie jumped down from the alcove to meet up with the others. The captain shouted as more banshees came from the further road. Runa and Garoa ran forward. In a barrage of fireballs and the captain’s steel blade, the creatures fell, struck down just within reach of the gypsies.
The Legion reached the East Square.
Runa looked to his order. "Stand firm in the snow. Do not give this square lightly. Wura will be with us."
The Legion halted. A man with a plumed helmet from the far side drew his sword and raised it upward.
“Men of the Grand Protectorate,” shouted Captain Runa, “we are men as you, and not of magic, but you must not fear those who are. Stop this massacre.”
There was a moment of silence. The winds died down, and in the distance, the screams and shouts of the people of Elinathrond was all that pierced the winds.
Behind the main lines, Slats stood near Sviska, both staring out. Berie had her bow bent, and Garoa held a ball of flames.
The man with plume helmet looked toward the lines of the Legion.
"They are cursed! Do not let them breathe upon you too much or you will become as them, babbling and losing your own mind. Touch them only with your blades and do not stop this massacre. They cannot be allowed to live!"
There was a shout from across the ranks, and then came a wave of spears. One volley, another, and then another. Their points struck the lines, killing many of the Brotherhood of Wura, their shields clanging on the bricks of the square. The plume-helmeted man from before shouted again.
"Kill them all!"
Horns sounded, and the Legion charged. The lines of Wura shook and rang with the clanging of metal as those of Wura held the line. Slats, Garoa, and Sviska looked to the ring of stone. The carts of the gypsies began to spin faster and faster.
From within the shroud of the spell, he noticed the orphans first. Then, looking behind them, he caught sight of the Gypsy Mother. In her hand, she held a single blank card as she smiled at him.
He felt to his chest and remembered the card he had packed away from before. She smiled more, and in a white flash, the carts, the orphans, and the gypsies all vanished from the ring of stone.
Behind them, they could hear the screams of the Brotherhood of Wura battleline. Captain Runa went to go forward when one of the men turned near the rear of the lines.
"Go, my captain. We will hold them here. Get them to the Estate."
Another rank of men from the Legion entered the square from Tareh Way. The captain looked at them as more of his men came from the Estate. Berie and Garoa sent repeated blasts of fire and arrows toward the attackers.
"This way. The enemy has not made it here," the men said.
They ran for the Estate. As they made it to the courtyard, they turned to see the city alight in fire. From far down below, the first and second walls had been breached and sporadic explosions of green and blue magic thundered within the city. The winged creatures flew above the roofs, and the hellhounds returned, swarming the edges of the city with wretched howls in the horrid waste of the night.
There was the sound of a loud horn, and the sky turned white among the blackness of the thunderclouds. From the swirled billows above, spiked hands reached down and crushed the walls of the city. A large face, contrasted against blackness with three points wrapped in lightning and a mouth gaped open with fiery clouds pouring out, emerged over the city. Above him, like orbs of white fire, appeared men. Their hands held golden ropes as if binding the beast from the clouds. The creature began to encroach further into the city.
"Kel," Berie told them, "the war god descends upon us."
Sviska turned to the door of the Estate. The two sentinels’ eyes were alight, their staves before them with green flaming blades rustling in the wind.
The two warriors fle
w into the air where the gypsies had been. Landing upon the circle of stones, they crushed the arches as they both leaped toward the beast in the clouds. Like two green comets in the sky, they flew, the twisting of polar lights following their trails.
Kel, the beast, lifted his hand and struck one of them. The sentinel flew, smashing into a nearby building. The other found its mark, stabbing its blade into the creature's face. It bellowed, swatting, but could not stop the sentinel who stabbed it repeatedly.
One of the men who held the war god dropped his rope and flew forward, swinging a massive staff.
It struck the sentinel, casting it backward into the mountain. A rumbling avalanche of stone followed as its lifeless form slid downward, falling into the ruin of the city.
Chapter 27 Meredaas’ Blessing
"We need to hurry!" shouted Berie.
The roar of the wind and the clamor in the city below gave reason for their haste to the door of the Estate. Attempting to open it, they discovered it was locked.
"Did he not think we were going to make it?" asked Slats.
"The winery! Quickly, this way," said Captain Runa. "It should still give you access."
Following the captain around the side of the Estate, they turned the corner and could hear sounds from the dark woods echoing against the city. The neighing of horses and shouts of men along with the sounds of hooves and more neighing told them the Legion was in the woods.
"The unicorns," said Sviska.
"Perhaps they are having better luck than us," the captain suggested.
He gripped the doors to the cellar and pulled them free, their bolts creaking as the doors opened.
He pointed into the cellar. "Go!"
Slats, Garoa, and Berie went in. Sviska began forward but stopped, noticing the Brotherhood of Wura were turning and kneeling, their shields set before them.
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 25
