Varac looked around at the fallen bodies, knowing very well that this was the only pause to come from the half-elf. Kealin stared back at him and he chewed on his nails, passing time until it was determined if further blade work would need doing. Glancing over to where Sviska and the others were, he noticed Sviska just around the edge of the corner. Lifting his hand nonchalantly, he signaled to the others to not proceed, brushing his hair back so to not look as obvious.
"Kealin, for today we will leave you with the islanders. I will not risk further of my men this day."
"I am happy that you have sense enough for that. And the children?"
"I must fetch them. Do know that you will remain wanted and your crimes today will only push you further toward the beheading you have earned."
"And you should know that further crimes against the Island Nation will push me toward worse things for you that will cause you to seek a beheading instead of what I would do to you," Kealin said in answer. He smiled and tilted his head in a bow, "You better return those children. I am a nightmare for those that lie to me. Do you need me to escort you out?"
The remaining legionnaires sheathed their swords without an order from their Legatus. They formed a line, leaving the people of Kersa bound and further untouched.
Sviska and the others fell backward, quickly running through the lingering smoke toward the dock level of the village. They looked up as Legatus Varac, as well as the legionnaires, passed quickly toward the gates of the city. They were disheveled and shaking. Looking back, they scurried against each other trying to move away from Kealin with as much haste as they could muster. The legend of the half-elf was true, and a fear would spread out toward the rest of the Legions with his return.
As the last of the Legions went out of view, one by one villagers cut free began swarming the lower level, some headed toward their homes, wishing only to be with loved ones and happy they were all alive. Others instead wished to help those whose houses still burned. Soon a line from the dock level went up the second level as townspeople free of their bounds began trying to save their structures, tossing water onto the flames and turning a steady black smoke to white.
Knasgriff and Kealin stood with the other guards as Sviska, Berie, Garoa, and Slats emerged on the third level. There were still some families huddled together, thankful that Kealin had stopped the Grand Protectorate.
Knasgriff shook his head, staring around at the bodies strewn about. Kealin cleaned his blades, and an assembly of guards began cleaning up the mess caused by the intruders.
Behind them, the newly rebuilt windmill burned again. There was a somber feeling in the air, an uncomfortable shudder as the winds blew over them, icy and bleak.
"What happened?" Sviska asked.
Knasgriff shook his head. Bowing down, he brought his hands up to his mouth before looking back up with a welling of tears in his eyes.
"The Legatus had asked for some food in a good nature and hope for continued peace, at least for now. I opened my hall to him. It was then some of his men came in and set down with me and then more joined us, pushing my men in. I asked what was meant by it, but he stated that he knew you four were here."
"So we caused this?" Garoa asked.
"No," he shook his head. "If it was not this, it would've been something else. We remained there overnight and then the Legatus returned. He told me that the voice of the Grand Protectorate had come to speak and instead of a person, they brought that box to me that Kealin had closed. The figure told me that punishment was upon the village and myself. It was then they took us outside where they rounded up the townspeople. In the chaos that ensued, fires had been set. Of course, my windmill, you see, was not spared."
He pointed up to the charred frame that still smoldered. "I had pleaded with them to release the people, but they were set to take everyone. For what end I cannot guess."
Kealin presented the chest. It was silver with black stone on the edges. A sapphire sat in its center, and the chest itself seemed to feel cold to the touch.
"Have any of you ever seen such a thing as dis?" he asked.
Slats shook his head and said, "I have seen something similar, but it was lost long ago. They were a way to speak with the gods in the old times. I had understood they were lost to time. I would not believe that The Order would use such a thing."
"You seem to forget they used beasts of all sort when attacking Elinathrond," Berie remined him. "Could this be just something new to us now?"
"That I do not know," Knasgriff said.
The couple Kealin had helped collapsed at his feet. He slid one foot back and looked down in disgust.
"Thank you for your help. You saved not only my life, but the life of my wife!" The man wept, kissing Kealin’s foot.
"Get up, I say! Do not kiss my feet for such things as I did."
The husband and wife both stopped and recoiled, sitting on their knees.
"Embrace one another and then prepare for the coming tides that will truly test your resolve. When the battle line calls you forth, will you answer and beg for more? Will you do it for your kids, taken as slaves?"
There was silence between them.
"When you can answer dat, come kiss my feet, for I will be who leads you dat day."
"Will they return our kids?"
"They will. Or they will die."
Kealin turned from them, leaving the box on the ground before Knasgriff. He jogged down the ramp toward the lower levels and went out of sight.
Knasgriff patted the weeping man on his shoulder and said, "Well, I would like you to meet these that you spoke with before, but did not have good dealings with. These are who the Legions search for. I will not say all, but know that they are friends of the Island Nations. This is Sviska, Berie, Slats, and Garoa. They have already worked to protect my life once and plan to help us against the Grand Protectorate."
"Many thanks to you!" the woman said. "I am Helgi, and my husband is called Tegon. May we beg forgiveness for our past misunderstandings?"
"It is well. And I am happy to meet you," Berie said, her hand outstretched to Helgi.
She took her hand and then looked up quickly before saying, "You are more than you say. I feel the life of the gods in you."
A glare came from Slats and Sviska, but Berie nodded and confirmed, "I am of magic, and I will not hide that from you. What was known as a sickness in your land was a curse to my people. I am the last of the Elves."
She uncovered her hair, her pointed ears visible to both Helgi and Tegon.
"Blessed be the gods," said Tegon. "The times are changing in the world."
"And not too soon," Knasgriff said. "Come, let us at least go in for now. I know that Euso is still tending to your mother, who is fairing much better, I hear."
"Yes, in fact he had planned for us to leave tonight and we are eager to return home."
"It is your choice, but a meal before travel will suit you well."
They entered the Great Hall. After taking seats at the table, they enjoyed a meal of roasted fish and sea vegetables of a stringy kind.
Both Tegon and Helgi ate their fill rather quickly, and as soon as Euso arrived for food himself, they departed, taking with them their now-healed mother, as well as the horse and cart in which they had arrived in haste days ago.
Knasgriff poked the fire, kindling it further, and Slats puffed on a pipe of herbs provided kindly by Euso. Sviska also smoked. It had been since the cleaning of the winery, sitting on the promenade of the Estate with a pale moonlight above the snowy mountains, that he last smoked. He took deep breaths, drawing the spicy-yet-sweet herbs into his mouth; a warming sensation filled his face.
Knasgriff went to the door, lowered the latch and sealed the Great Hall.
"So," he began, "I feel you found what you sought in the far north?"
"We are to return magic," Slats said, exhaling a plume of smoke into the air above him. “But with Kealin around, the Legions might simply walk away if faced with rebellion.”
Knasgriff nodded, “If there were more of him perhaps! His zeal for blood is unmatched and his legend truly is larger than even he among men of the Protectorate, though I dare say he gained that reputation fighting with us alone.”
Garoa sat crossed-armed, nearly in the dark. He tapped his foot and stared at the door every few moments, not making eye contact with the others. Sviska noticed, but said nothing. It would do no good to point it out in front of the others, but it was clear something was on the Rusis's mind.
"Return it? How?"
"Our peoples sealed away magic at the time of The Order's war against us. We must break the two seals that hold it."
"But first," Berie said, "we must find two artifacts."
"Artifacts?" Euso asked.
"Perhaps Euso can help," Knasgriff suggested. "He has explored many places that the average person has not, seeking his herbs and such."
"Have you heard of an object called the Dwarven Hand?" Sviska asked, his interest piqued in the fact Euso had surely traveled much in his searches.
"No," he replied, "but on the mainland there were dwarves. There are mountains that run along the isthmus that I journied into many years ago. There is a village there also — not of the Island people, but I know they spoke of dwarves. Said there was a mountain past that saw many a traveler during the wars."
Slats beat the charred herbs from his pipe and tucked it away. "I believe if the dwarves were to hold something of secret it would be placed in the mountains,” he said. “Perhaps near the old city of Harrodarr, my home when I was younger. I did not travel much then, but if we can get close, I am sure I could find it. If only I had my books, but they were lost in Elinathrond."
The dwarf reached down to grasp his cup of ale and then took a long drink. "Not very much a good happening, If I’d say."
"So you plan to search out these objects?" Knasgriff asked. "And then upon finding both, break some seal and then magic will return?"
"Breaking one seal will return magic to one part of the land; the other part requires the other seal," Sviska explained.
Berie stood and said, "I feel the Hand would have been protected by my people. Though of dwarven design I do not doubt, but such a thing would have been better protected in the deep woods, where less-than-pleasant creatures wait in the trees. I feel the crystal would be with it."
Knasgriff shook his head and said, "The forests of the elves were overrun long ago. I do not know by what power, but the place near the southern realms was a place of great tragedy and one of the final stands of magical kind. There were no survivors at that place."
A silence took the room. Berie's face was struck with angst for a truth she knew, but ignored. In all the years of her life, the sorrow she felt now welling within her was unlike any sadness, save her father's death months ago.
"Is there any way to know for sure where it was last held, do you think?" Slats asked.
"No," Sviska said. "We should head to the place that Euso spoke of first. There we may find some clue to its actual location. And further south, the realm of the Elves will be our second location in which the Dwarven Hand and the crystal may lie. The east was sealed second; there is a chance they could have went to either place afterward."
"It is well to do that," Berie said. "During that time the dwarves and the elves were fighting to do what could be done to preserve our people. It could be among the ruins of either of our people, in truth."
She stood from her seat and rubbed her eyes. "I am tired. I will see you all in the morning."
Berie departed into their room and shut the door. Knasgriff coughed and took another drink of his ale.
"We will be a home for you, if you need it, until you are ready to leave."
"We thank you, but we will leave at first light tomorrow. The Legion will return and in greater numbers, I fear," Sviska said. "Magic renewed in these lands will help us to fight them as the time comes."
"Aye!” Slats said. "I don't have quite the vigor as I did in Elinathrond! My ax is missing the heads of those men already."
Knasgriff grinned at the stoutness of the dwarf's remarks. "How did you ever stay calm, locked in that city?" he asked him, referring to his time at the Estate.
"He was a servant," Sviska said, "and a good one, too! Spent a lot of time hacking wood and reading books!"
"It is true," Slats said. "Although the stories I read of my people I felt were forever to be of the past, I believe further writings of the dwarves shall yet come!"
"I say it will, Slats," Knasgriff said. "I myself pen stories of interest to myself; perhaps one of the last dwarf of the land leading the people of Kersa next to the chieftain shall be a grand writing one day!"
There were shared laughs and mutual exchanges of tiredness as weariness was in all. One by one, they stood and bid goodnights. All except Garoa. A silence was in him of concern to Sviska and was not unnoticed by Knasgriff.
They each went into the room and went to their beds.
Sviska lay awake. The snoring of Slats was the first sound he could hear and the crackling of wood in the great hall followed afterward. Berie had been motionless for a while, and he assumed she was sleeping. His reason for waiting proved valid when Garoa slipped his feet from his blankets and into his boots.
As Sviska watched him leave the room, he followed to the doorway. In the light of the fire, Garoa threw his pack over his shoulder and began toward the door of the Great Hall.
Sviska scurried to put on his own boots and bound himself in his coat. He ran with careful steps after Garoa, pushing open the door of the hall.
The guards had just left for their patrols around the third level, and thus the only form Sviska saw was Garoa standing at the steps.
"Go back inside."
"What is wrong?" Sviska asked him, taking a few steps closer.
"You wish to know what is wrong, Sviska?"
He nodded.
"Perhaps you didn't see earlier. Because of me and this crazy task we seem to need to do, many innocent people were set to die. Because someone helped us, they were to be punished."
"I saw just as you did. We are working against the Legions and can only help them in that way."
"Well, Turmin — or Sviska — since you knew nothing of magic before, you will be fine with the Elf and the Dwarf as they go seek out some lost object of their people. My people had no one. We were together only for mutual protection in the last days of magic, and then we were alone. I do not work with others very well. I like my dragons and I like my magic. One of those I cannot even use and my dragons have since found some roost away from me."
"What do you mean?"
His eyes squinted as he said, "You ask what I mean? Have you seen them flying about, curling up near the warm fire in the Great Hall, chomping of dried meat and fruit?"
Sviska did not speak.
"I did not wish to abandon them, but my whistles have gone unanswered! I pray my friends are alive. But no longer will I wait to fulfill some other destiny for some god and a dead lord of a burned estate. At least you, the elf, and the dwarf received weapons to guide you. I received gauntlets that are useless to me now. Garoa, forsaken again. Three things I am without. I have nothing from my life in Elinathrond. Therefore, I seek something from before my time there. If there is one thing I have learned, it is that I may have blood within the lands to the south, and I intend to find her."
"Who?"
"My daughter!"
"I didn't know you had a child."
"Neither did I, but I feel that searching for her will do me better than searching for some Dwarven Hand and crystal."
"I understand your desire, but magic . . . "
"I do not care of magic; it is gone. I want family, Sviska. One can only wander so long."
The Rusis's menacing glare turned to softness. Garoa said, "I had sense of that family while in the Trials in Elinathrond. I go now. I go south, and I know where I must go. Your place is here, with them." He pointed to the Great Hall
. "I go.”
He turned with his pack over his shoulder, exhaled, and then began down the ramp. Sviska watched him disappear and then turned, spotting Berie, who stood in the darkness near the door of the Great Hall.
"Sviska, go with him."
He shook his head. "I need go with you to restore magic."
"Slats and I will see to that. Brethor did not intend for us to separate, but at the least, you need to go with him and assure he gets back to us."
"He believes in finding something he saw in the trials. I don't feel he is thinking right."
"That is not the point. If you had word that you may have family, would not you seek it out? It is what he is doing, and whether the stars will take him to a place where he finds it or if it is only his mind conjuring that thought, he believes it. That is more of a reason for you to follow him."
"What about Slats?"
"I will talk to him."
She held up his pack and he took it, bowing to her as he did. She leaned forward, kissing him softly on the head. He felt a rush of warmness over his body as the cold sea air blew upon them. He looked up and a wisp of green polar lights danced above. Berie’s eyes shined brightly, and he smiled at her.
She retreated and began to fade into the shadow of the Great Hall. He set his pack to shoulder and hurried down the ramp to catch up with Garoa. Atop the Great Hall, unnoticed by Sviska, Kealin looked on, his own mind deep in thought of the coming tasks and of those he wished to help further.
Chapter 8 A Father's Will
Sviska jogged down the ramp and through the second level to gates of the city. He needed to catch up with Garoa, who would be well on his way now.
Two guards standing at either side of a small fire blew breath into their hands as a light snow began to fall. He nodded as he passed them, slowing down as he left the entrance of the village. The path ahead was dark, but the sky above was alive with stars and a curved moon.
He did not know where Garoa was going, just that the only path he could take was down this road. A boat, or some type of transport, would be at the far end of the island, or so he guessed. He began to walk, tucking his coat around him to keep out the breeze.
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 34
