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 walked to the entrance of the cave and said, "When will this storm end?"

  "By morning, I reckon. Normally these storms happen and you just stay put where you are. I had a late kill and was cleaning it up when this hit. I hope no wolves make off with it."

  Sviska had decided to keep the sight of the wolf earlier to himself, figuring it best with Garoa out for blood, as it were.

  Garoa stood the rest of the night staring out into the woods. For the Rusis, an incessantly snoring Nupp made it difficult to remain relaxed, in any case, if he could have even slept to start. Sviska slept hard, even with the winds blowing both inside and out.

  Garoa imagined his fair Lucia, believing that he had ran off with the woman for no reason at all. But he had no guess that he had a child, that they even were expecting a baby. Perhaps had he known, he would have taken her to Elinathrond.

  Nevertheless, they could all be dead had that path been traversed. He thought of his daughter, wondering of her face, her hair, and who she was. He had not been there for her as she needed, but he would be now, and that was where his mind centered.

  The sun peaked on the valley below, casting long shadows from the trees and warming the dark blue sky to a warm red when Garoa stirred the others.

  They bid farewell to Nupps, who took off to check on the kill left in the woods, humming to himself as he went down the path.

  Descending downward, they made it back to the road and Garoa went alone back to the grove. A single orange flower in hand, he knelt at the grave of his love.

  "I will be what I never was, I promise, for you and her."

  He kissed the stone and laid the flower next to the remains of the other flowers ragged from the storm last night.

  Garoa stood, tears welling in his eyes as he felt a coldness burn into his chest. He looked a last time at the cottage and nodded, then joined Sviska back at the road.

  "I do not expect you to be well," Sviska said, "but I hope you are hopeful."

  Garoa nodded, but said nothing.

  The two of them made a hasty journey. By midday, they had crossed Tar Valley and passed through a larger, open expanse of green fields surrounded by woods to the west and the bay to the east. The road was one of the central roads heading north from Lokam, and it was better maintained from that point on. A sign hanging over part of the road made mention of the Region of Taria and the city of Tar Mena. They would make it there by the evening.

  "Garoa, although I am happy that you have been directed to your daughter, I fear returning to this place."

  "Do you really think they will recognize you? It has been a few months, and if I had to guess, you were veiled and not seen."

  "Not until I was in the room of the child. In the scuffle with her father, he knocked my hood open and at one point, his ax handle was against my throat. I cannot believe he would have not seen my face."

  "Well, then let’s not run into the lord of the town. From the sounds of it, we will not be going to a place someone of his status would dare go to. Not to mention, you've grown a bit more hair than you had back when my little dragon was so brutally murdered!"

  Although he had a small smile, Sviska did not see it.

  "Garoa! You know that was an accident."

  "Yes, yes. I am just saying. The point I attempted to make is that you are different than you were. They will not recognize you. Heck, you have half a beard! I just wish to get to my daughter. Wherever we find her, we will take her from there. She will be with us, and then we will decided what you will do next."

  Those were not the words Sviska expected. At least if he found this missing daughter, he might be more accepting to return to Berie and Slats.

  "You do know she is around twenty years old now, and, given she has been alone, she may not be so open to just going with some stranger."

  Garoa looked at him for a moment and then said, "I am her father."

  "But unlike me, who does not want to be seen and have been, you wish to be known but are not. She doesn't know you."

  Sviska could tell Garoa pondered his words. It was true. He had the diary but any random stranger could of came across that. He lacked any real proof of his claim, and Lucia was not there to say whom he was.

  Ahead of them, the road ascended through dense trees and wound around a stable and a fenced-in farm. A farmer, working the garden as the day now neared its end, waved at them. A crow atop the fence flew up into the tree as they passed.

  The wooden walls of the city were ahead. There had been tense times between the Grand Protectorate and Tar Mena of late. The people had been part of a soft rebellion in which the Legions lost ground and retreated. Instead of a harsh response, negotiations had been discussed and fought over instead. The city was not manned by Legions, but soldiers of Taria.

  It was only because of the wish to avoid open war that the Grand Protectorate had not simply marched in and taken back their province. His task here would not even have ended the strife, so now, as he walked the same path he had taken that faithful night, he wondered of The Order's purpose in his killing of the infant child.

  The gates of the city stood open. The two guards on watch wore plate armor on their chests. Their heads covered with dark tan hoods, they held longbows in their left hands.

  As they walked past the guards, there were stern looks watching them, but Sviska felt as if a nod of approval followed them. He thought of how their armor had been difficult to penetrate with his throwing knives, and he remembered the man’s throat under his neck. For a first time in his life, the thoughts of his acts unsettled him. He shook his head and kept focused on the current task.

  The village was under active construction, reinforcement of with stone and wood augmented the size of the walls. Much different in the evening sun from the black of night, Sviska noticed the stone fences lining the road into the town. Most of the buildings were of two or more stories. Atop the roofs of each of them stood at least one person, a bow at the guard’s side. It seemed they were on higher alert than normal. If this was a reaction to his attack or the Legion’s activity, he did not know.

  They came to the center city circle. A fountain sat there, and the statue of a bear holding a star looked down on them. A river went through the northern edge of the circle, shallow but steady. It wrapped under the center road and headed down the hill, where it was met by a waterfall coming down from another waterway, and the water splashed on rocks under a bridge leading further north. Sviska’s thoughts once again returned to the last time he was here. The image on the door of the girl’s room. He shook his head again.

  "Where do you think it is?" Sviska asked Garoa.

  There did not seem to be a tavern of any sort in the immediate area. With some luck, Garoa noticed a man walking with stupor indicative of where his last few hours were spent. He stopped him.

  "I am in need of drink and a place to lie down," he told him.

  The man coughed a few times and belched, "Well, then head up the road a bit, over the bridge, and in the direction of the citadel you will find the inn. A good ale is easy to find there, as well as other things you might need. Just came from there myself!"

  The man continued on, and Garoa and Sviska watched as he nearly tripped over a rock and fell into the fountain.

  "He makes little since, but it appears he should know," Sviska said, shaking his head.

  Following over the bridge, they ascended the hill and found a series of buildings dimly lit by a torch basin burning under a sign.

  "The Lazy Coin Licker," Sviska read aloud. "Sounds like quite a place."

  Garoa did not care for his sarcasm. The Rusis pushed open the doors and went into the boisterous tavern.

  It seemed that no one else noticed their arrival, what with all the many patrons laughing and carrying on. The bar was well-stocked, with tapped kegs behind the bar flowing an almost constant fountain of beer. To their right, a series of long tables held a mix of drunken men and flirting women, their bosoms nearly hanging over tightly t
ied blouses as they carried on with the men who were still sober. A large man sat at the far end of the bar. He carried a wide stick, which he slapped on the bar when he noticed Garoa and Sviska standing in the doorway.

  Two women, one of whom was blond and the other with brunette hair, snapped up from cleaning a table and jogged toward him. As he pointed at Sviska and Garoa, he then slapped the back of their legs as they began toward the new arrivals.

  "Do you ever get the feeling this is more of a brothel and less of a typical inn?" Sviska asked.

  Garoa nodded and crossed his arms as the women approached.

  "And what can we do for you fine men tonight? Do you want a beer, or two, or maybe just one or two of us?"

  "Tell me," Garoa commanded, "where might one go to find a lone orphaned girl of about twenty years?"

  They gave him a confused look, their eyes shifting between each other. They did not expect such a quick question.

  "If you want an orphan, this is not the place."

  The blond girl shook her hair and said, "This is a place for men, not people seeking children."

  "Irony in what you say, a lot of irony," Garoa said. "Especially given the servings of this establishment." He glanced over at the drunkards and women for hire.

  Sviska noticed that the large man at the bar looked annoyed, and he gazed at them. He pulled at his beard and rubbed the coarse brown ends in his fingertips. He finished his beer and looked over at the others. It seemed some of his patrons were now staring at the developing scene in their tavern.

  "I will tell you what I wish," Garoa said. "Go to each of your little whorish misfit brats and find the one whose mother was killed eighteen years ago, just before the massacre of Tar Wunak! That is what you can do for me."

  The womens’ eyes became large; they backed away and went toward the other tables. The large man now stood. He slammed his mug on the bar and walked over, holding his stick.

  "Is there a problem with my choosing for you gentlemen? Are you not pleased?"

  "I will tell you what I wish," Garoa started again, but Sviska stepped in front of him, pushing his chest back and quieting him.

  "We seek the girl he spoke of. The orphan of Tar Wunak. We hear she is the best from our friends."

  Sviska had been to a place like this before. Causing an uproar would not help, particularly when they were the smallest of many other bulky and less sober types.

  The man stood up tall and pointed a chubby finger at him, and said, "I do not know who your friends are, but perhaps they lied. She is not the most, how do you say, flexible, with her inhibitions. However, she is mine, and I will make her yours for now. Perhaps you can make her more giving. I’ve kept her around for times when this place needed calming down with a good fighter. That is all she is good for, even as small as she is. The price is fifty pieces of gold for both of you."

  Garoa tightened his fists and bit the inside of his tongue as, again, Sviska pushed his chest back and then pulled his coin purse from his belt and dropped fifty gold pieces into the man's hand.

  "Room two," he told them, pointing upstairs.

  Sviska walked behind Garoa and gave him a nudge. The large man stared down at them with a peculiar glare, but would deliver on their transaction.

  Up the stairwell, they came to a narrow hallway. Windows at either end let in moonlight from outside, given the fact that the candle-lined walls provided little light.

  The second room had an enameled "2" on the door, and they pushed it open to reveal only a plain bed with no adornments to the room.

  "What are you doing?" Garoa urged in a hushed voice.

  "I am getting your daughter before you end up having us thrown out. Those women know nothing of what you said. Most have probably been lied to longer than the time they have been here. The desire tonight is not arguing with the prostitutes of the brothel, but getting your daughter!"

  Although annoyed, he agreed, shaking his head and crossing his arms again. He took a spot in the front corner of the room, away from the door.

  Sviska stepped to the center of the room, turning just as footsteps caught his ear approaching the room. The door opened and a young woman stepped in. She did not smile like the others, nor was her dress pulled down to show off her bust. She stood up with her hands on her hips. Her hair draped down over her shoulders in blond curls, and her eyes were tense and squinted as she walked forward.

  "Seems you requested me and my master, as it is, he says I must come please you. I don’t please anyone. Keep your money and I will have one of the others comes to tend to you."

  Sviska placed his hands behind his back and said, "That is not why I am here, nor why he is here."

  He nodded toward the corner of the room. and she turned and looked at Garoa.

  For the first time in his life, he looked upon his daughter, but he was in a trance of memories as he did.

  "Lucia," he whispered.

  The girls eyes widened and her stern look gave way to shock.

  "No," she said.

  "But it was the name of your mother," Garoa confirmed with her.

  "Yes, but my mother died when I was but a child. I am Asnea. What does this . . . ?"

  "At last! I have found you."

  "Who are you?"

  "Lucia was the love of my life. Looking at you is almost as looking her, but you lack her blue eyes. Your green ones tell me you got that from me."

  A silence befell the room, and Asnea looked between the two men standing before her. Sviska walked toward the door, and, hearing someone else nearing, he listened as the steps paused outside the door.

  "You are my father?"

  "Yes. I betrayed your mother in only the fact I left for there was never another woman. There is much I can explain, but for now I need to get you out of here."

  "This is not the time," she explained, "and I hear your words, but they mean little to me. I am a grown woman without family for the past ten years, and I know not why I should trust a thing you say. I wondered how my typical ruse was not enough to keep me from these damn rooms but my supposed father must’ve been really convincing to to the fat master."

  The door suddenly swung open, just missing a leaping Sviska. It was the large man.

  "I knew something was not right about you two. Get out, get out of my brothel! You come here spewing lies trying, to fill this girl's head with stories and such. She already gets out enough without you trying to steal my property right out from under me!"

  Two other large men, not quite as big as the first, but bigger at least than both Sviska and Garoa, entered the room. Sviska wondered of how they could have even made it up the stairwell without being stuck.

  "My men here will escort you down to the door, and if I see you again I will call the guards."

  Sviska looked to Asnea, who stood with her head down.

  "And for you, little bitch, I will beat the sense out of you until you learn to leave before such lies can be told to you."

  Garoa lunged forward, moving to strike the largest man, but was caught by the other two.

  "And what is this?" he asked. "Threaten the great Yul, Brothel Keeper of Tar Mena? I do not believe so! I choose mercy on you this night and will simply have you carried out. Do not assail me again."

  He pointed his finger down, and the two men carried Garoa out. Sviska followed.

  "It seems at least one of you is smart," Yul said.

  Sviska did not reply. His mind worked; he had sized up those that carried Garoa, as well as Yul. He weighed his options.

  Now downstairs, Asnea stood in the tavern room next to the other women and stared as the men dragged Garoa down. Her mouth hung open as she looked on.

  Garoa looked up, saw her, and begged, "Please Asnea, you must remember something of your mother's stories of me, please!"

  As they half-pushed, half-threw him out the door. He rolled toward the other side of the street. Sviska pushed past the two men and went to him as he stammered up, staring at the door.

  "
Sviska, I will not leave until I have her!"

  He went to jump for the door where the two men still stood watching.

  "This is not the way!" Sviska yelled, grabbing at Garoa’s tunic.

  From the road they could see past the brothel henchmen. The larger man dragged Asnea along the bar, his stick in hand raised into the air to slap her legs.

  "I will teach you to leave my care again!" he shouted at her.

  "No!" Garoa yelled.

  The Rusis ran forward, and, in a summoning of faith and heart, he pulled what magic he could draw from the land. He gripped the faces of the men that guarded the door, and by some force he summoned enough magic to burn them before bloodying their faces with rapid punches.

  He rushed into the tavern, leapt at the man who held Asnea, and struck him repeatedly in the face, too. Shouting filled the brothel as women ran out in droves, screaming in a rambunctious rabble. Sviska pushed himself through the doorway.

  The man then gained the upper hand and threw Garoa across the tavern. His body slid across the tables and slammed into the opposite wall. Sviska went to Asnea, who he helped up and found to be uninjured as she looked toward her father. Garoa did not move, and the large man closed in on him with his stick held high.

  As other patrons began to stumble out, Sviska drew Sishan. He ran a few steps and took stance against the man.

  "Do not touch him!" he said.

  The man turned, smiled, and stomped forward, swinging his stick. Sviska jumped from it, rolling toward Garoa.

  He put the dagger out in front of himself, turned sideways, and slid his left foot back. Yul had yet to wipe the grin from his face as he rose the stick again, this time swinging to the side and just missing Sviska's head.

  He stumbled. The weight of his large stick was not something he was used to having to use in such a way as this.

  Outside the brothel, the upheaval of the women and the shouting, garnered the attention of the town guard, which responded to the clamor going on inside.