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

  There were more statues throughout the room. A host of elves and dwarves, appearing caught in motion and moving toward the gateway in haste, blocked the main way through, forcing them to traverse around the statues to the right of the room.

  It was there, along the edge of the distant wall, that they found two other statues. One a tall elf, with long hair and wide shoulders. His hand in front of him was partly closed, and his other hand reached behind him, but for what he reached was no longer there.

  Berie walked toward the statue, and, pulling her bow from her back, she placed it in the open hand that held out, her quiver, she pulled from her back, placing it near the back of the statue. She looked upon the stone and then took back her items.

  Her hand touched the chest of the man, she bowed her head, and said, "Here is Truesong. His bow I now hold, and may I fall when it is time in such a way as did he."

  There was silence among the others, none save one knew of such deeds, as did Berie. To Euso, and the people of the Island Nation, Truesong was indeed a legend. The stories told to the children, and his sacrifice here, was no less outstanding than the myths among the people of the unwavering bow of the elves.

  The second statue was of a woman on one knee. Her face proved fair, even in stone, and her hand hovered over a large oval rock beneath her. In its center was placed a short golden staff, no longer than her arm, but emblazoned with blue emeralds and sharped adornments.

  Slats ran to the staff and exclaimed, "This must be it! The Dwarven Hand This craftsmanship is of my people indeed!"

  He took hold of the staff with a firm grip and pulled. With no success, he twisted and pulled some more. His hands wrenched around and slipped wildly as he found himself unable to free the device.

  "Oh wonderful," Euso said. "A long trip here, and we can't even get it out."

  "I will attempt," Arsus announced.

  He placed his spear on the ground and took hold of the golden rod. He, too, strained to pull it free, at last letting go and faltering back. "It's placed in there well. It would take many a well-striking pick to free it from that stone."

  Berie looked at the statue; in her mind, she saw all go dark save a starry sky above and the statue. A whisper in the air said something that she could not make out, and a golden light began to shine from the chest of the statue. She blinked her eyes, and it was once again twilight. The others stared at her.

  "What is it?" she asked them.

  "Oh nothing, really. Just you talking to yourself in some chant," Slats said. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and let out a sigh.

  She turned her attention back to the statue. "It is Etha," she said.

  Arsus stumbled backwards and fell to his knees. The others looked to him as he grabbed his head.

  "Are you well?" Euso asked, kneeling next to him.

  "I do not know. I feel warm, warmer than normal, and I feel as I may vomit."

  Euso reached into a pouch and removed a vial of liquid.

  "This will cure your sickness," he told him.

  Arsus grabbed the vial, tore the top off, and chugged the mixture. He began to breathe heavily. Sweat rolled off his face.

  Slats went to his side and said, "Lie down and take a rest."

  Slats and Euso assisted in laying Arsus on the ground, resting his head against the stone of the pool.

  As the two attended to the suddenly unwell Arsus, Berie looked again to the statue. It wore a necklace, and though she did not know why she felt so compelling, she pulled her bow tight with an arrow and took aim.

  Slats looked up and said, "Berie, what are you . . . "

  She released the arrow, and it struck the statue where the pendant hung, the rock chipping. A crumble of pebbles showered down, and a silver necklace, with a bright red jewel attached to it, fell to the ground with a clang.

  The sunlight peeking over the mountaintops struck the jewel, and it began to glow. As it did, a rumbling came through the temple. Dust and debris fell, and a sharp wind began to pull through the columns back toward the fields of stones and the bones of the dead.

  Euso looked up, unsure of what to make of such happenings. Slats shook his head at him, not knowing himself.

  "Solace," Berie said.

  She reached down and picked up the jewel.

  "The dwarven text said it took the goddess Etha and the Dwarven Hand to seal away magic. I wonder of this."

  As Berie placed the necklace around her neck,she began to glow in an orange hew, Slats and Euso both stood, shielding their eyes from the light. She looked down at the golden staff.

  "I understand what now to do," she whispered.

  But as she reached down, confident of her next step, the Legion Legatus, Arsus, wailed in pain. A darkness erupted from his body, crowding out all spaces of sunlight. The numbing shockwave bursting from Arsus forced the rest of them to the ground.

  "No path shall be awakened this day!" a voice echoed, ripping through the air.

  "Forbidden this is," another voice said. "Berie, elf, you struck us with light atop the mountain as our once master fell. We sought a new master, but are held by the old spell that brought us from the death we had to serve his purpose. So, we must attend to our first task! You will face death, and we will seal you there!"

  The blackness swirling above turned into a portal, twisting the waters of the pool around the statue.

  Slats felt himself tied to the ground. Berie stood, the light from the jewel shining bright. She looked toward the Dwarven Hand and reached out to grab it. A shrilling shout followed by the shattering of the statue in the pool sent a barrage of stones striking her, and she flew into a column.

  Slats managed to pull himself to his knees and looked up to Euso, whose eyes were wide and looked toward Arsus. The man shook violently, similar as to when he was atop the mountain.

  "Ustavis! Lord of the Dead, fallen too soon! We honor you, Master!" the host of voices said from the black shroud. "We have stopped them!"

  There were shrill laughs before a thundering sound came from the distance.

  Another voice, unlike that of the shroud, spoke: "Of weak magic you are, dread demon. Your words serve but a man of magic and are nothing to us of Itsu."

  "What is this, brothers? Who taunts us?" the black mass said.

  An encompassing fog began to wrap around the temple, and from the side, a being taller than the columns of the dome approached, wrapped in bolts of lightning that struck at the ground with each steps from its stone. It was tall, made of the ruins and boulders of the earth. In its hand it held a spear, and from his face came a bright white smile.

  "Being of Ustavis, of old magic you are, but you must not quarrel with mere trinkets as these. You are nothing and think little of growing. I am a Master of the Dead. You should think fully of yourself before you fulfill such short thoughts, as did that Ustavis."

  "But we are held to that task! We have no choice!" the voices said back.

  "Weaklings! So short sighted you are, young ones! You should make reason for the Itsu to allow you to exist, or they will expunge you from the world. Get out of my sight!"

  There was a reeling of wind. A whirlwind of explosions of blackness reached from all corners of the dome and formed the mass of the demon above the dome. In a fanged snarl, it attacked the white being with metallic clanging, shaking the grounds.

  Slats was now able to stand and did so, helping Euso up. Arsus had stopped shaking now, and as Euso looked to him, Slats ran to Berie. The elf bled from her nose. Her body was lifeless.

  "Arsus is well, unconscious, but he is alive,” Euso announced.

  Slats placed his ear near Berie's mouth, her skin had begun to blacken at her fingertips. Like a dying plant, her skin withered. There was no breath against his ear.

  "Euso!" the dwarf shouted.

  He came quickly, feeling her chest. There was no feeling against his hands.

  At that time a flash came from where the two beings battled, and the white being emerged in a grand light.r />
  "Weakling! May you return when you are stronger and perhaps know of your own allegiance!"

  The demon fled into the sky and out of sight, and a screeching wail followed it.

  A shock wave of dirt and dust sprayed the temple, and the being began to walk toward them. "I was placed to assure none returned to this place and found those cursed tools! The Itsu need not your magic to rule!"

  Euso looked up at Slats, "Go! We will not escape this place carrying two!"

  "But she does not draw breath," the dwarf said. "This is folly. I must do this now!"

  He looked down at the necklace Berie wore and back to the Dwarven Hand. "Hand and Solace Stone," he said aloud.

  He pulled the necklace from Berie and placed it on his neck. He felt a renewed vigor, and the ax behind him began to hum.

  Like Berie, he too began to glow. Looking down at the Dwarven Hand he reached down. His hands twisted the staff and a crack formed in the stone in which it sat. A bright light of whimsical blue, green, red, and white stream of petals shined forth, like that of small fairies, and the light began to merge and spin around, heading upwards.

  "You shall not do such a thing!" the voice of the white being boomed. "I forbid it!"

  Before Slats could withdraw the Dwarven Hand from its resting place, he felt himself ripped from the floor of the temple and suspended above the face of the stone being.

  "Look into the eyes of a Master of Death!" it said to him.

  He felt a tingling all over his body as the lightning encircling the monster whipped at his face causing, a pain that shot through his fingers and toes.

  "Foolish one! No more will the dwarves of Harrodarr remain of this world. I turned many to stone upon these grounds and will devour the last of your wretched race.”

  Though weakened, Slats was not without some strength in his arms. He reached with both hands behind him. His hands felt his ax and in a sharp motion, he brought it down upon the face of his captor.

  The hold it had on him released and he fell rolling away from it, his face in the red dirt of the temple grounds. He coughed and stood up, holding his ax in front of him.

  The being had a crack in its stone face that rushed forth a flow of electrified rocks that rolled on the ground, turning the dirt to stone. Slats stood before the bane of those of the Hammersong and the elven host.

  Its entire body seemed to tremble and it raised its hands, a large gathering of bolts growing around them.

  Slats ran toward the being and swung his ax, cracking into its leg and chipping away part of it. He followed that with another strike to its chest. The being slammed its hands to the ground. Though damaged by Slats and the weapon he wielded, the power of the Itsu was strong through its conjured form.

  Where it struck the ground stones flew out, peppering the side of the temple as well as Slats, who took a defensive stance again as flying rocks cut into his flesh.

  Slats could see that the creature staggering, weakened by his blows. The dwarf went to lift his ax again, his legs ready to charge forward, but his right arm surged with pain. A stone had struck him well, and he found himself unable to hold his ax as he did before.

  The creature stomped toward him, the ground turning to a white stone as it did, knocking him down with the shock waves from his steps. He felt the buzz of the creature's electricity in the air around him, and it raised the hair of his beard.

  It lifted its foot, seemingly to stomp him. Slats grasped his ax and took hold of it with his good arm in a last attempt to strike the beast.

  It was then that a mighty shout came from across the temple, and a flash of silver followed. The spear of Arsus arched over Slats, striking the beast in the neck and breaking stones from its form sending a high-pitched shrill into the air, followed by a show of lightning erupting into the sky.

  Slats leapt up in a moment of renewed strength, grasped his ax, spun, and tossed it toward the being of the Itsu. Its head struck just below the spear, and the creature toppled and fell backwards.

  "Slats, now!" bellowed Arsus, from his knees. The Legatus struggled to stand and was on the verge of collapse, not far from where he had laid before.

  Euso ran to Slats and pulled him up from the ground. Slats looked back to see the beast attempting to stand again, the spear and ax still within its body.

  He look to the Dwarven Hand, the golden staff with its swirling lights still pouring forth and falling to the ground. He ran to it, and, grasping and twisting in one motion, he pulled at the staff again.

  A flash erupted from around them, and the temple turned a clear silver. The place where the Dwarven Hand rested shimmered with that of a glowing orb, and Slats looked at the golden staff he held and then out around him.

  Green vines shot forth from the ground, wrapping up the columns and a fresh air blew upon the red dirt, turning it green with new life.

  The creature now stood, but its form was no match to that of the old magic stirring in the hallowed grounds, and a great gust came, taking hold of the beast and blowing it to the ground. Grass around the temple shot outward, followed by a barrage of twisting vines, and the once stony form turned to that of a small hill and did not move again. The spear of Arsus sat on top of it, with Slats’s ax just beside that.

  Silence befell them all.

  Slats looked around at the renewal of the temple and then to the statues of those elves and dwarves imprisoned forever. He thought of the loss his people had suffered and then wept, looking over to his friend. Berie still laid on the ground.

  "You did it!" Euso shouted.

  Slats ignored him. Crawling to Berie, he placed the Solace Stone on her. Looking up to the Statue of Etha, he pounded his fist down.

  "May you have mercy this day and reverse what has befallen her!"

  Euso shook his head and said, "The stones were no curse, Slats. They were a weapon just as any other. Be she a woman like those of men or elf kind, she cannot return to us. She is dead."

  Slats looked down to Berie and began to weep more, his tears dropping on the Solace Stone and her blackened body.

  It was then that a sharp, cold wind blew in from the north. From the skies came streaks of light, each fluttering around Berie, with a sudden emergence of even more balls of lights. The elf began to glow. The stone on her chest lit once again. Her skin became as before, and her mouth opened, drawing in the magic that had returned to the world.

  Berie opened her eyes as the balls of light hovered and turned to the tiny fairies dancing above her.

  "Thank you, my friends, but how has it come that you are here?" she said to the Faries.

  "Magic has returned, as now have you," Slats said joyously.

  He smiled and reached down to hug her. His arm surged with pain and he jumped.

  She glanced at his arm and then to his face, which bled from his fight with the Itsu creature. She looked to one of the fairies and nodded toward him.

  It flew over his arm, making repeated passes and brushing its wings on his arm. He felt a tightness, a pinch, and then relief as the fairy’s magic mended the bone.

  He nodded. "Thank you."

  The group of fairies made their way toward the pool and floated along the water's edge.

  Berie stared at Euso and smiled, taking in a deep breath. She then looked to the others as well as the renewed temple.

  "We succeeded."

  "Can you stand, Berie?" Euso asked, his arm under her arm to assist.

  She nodded and stood without any help at all. The necklace now in her hand, she placed it around her neck. The glow from before had dissipated as the magic spread across the eastern realms.

  Arsus sat on the edge of the pool. His head was down between his knees and his hands over his head.

  Berie stared at him and then down to her bow. She took time to pick it up, swung it over her back, and then walked quickly toward him.

  Slats went to grab her, but she took hold of the man, dragging him up.

  "You held that demon within your body! You c
ame here with ill purpose!" she yelled.

  "I . . . " he began, but he was cut off by her fist. She punched him in the face and slapped him to the ground.

  She pointed her finger and squinted her eyes, and said, "You work for The Order, and they sent you!"

  "I assure you, I meant no harm," he explained. "I did not know it was within me! I have been honest and truthful to you, elf, as well as to all of you!"

  He stared at the others, who looked at him and then to Berie. She stared him down. Her stance held. She thought of how quickly her bow could assure that no further trouble came of this Arsus, the Legion Legatus.

  "Dying will make one make rash judgments, I'd say," Euso commented.

  She jerked he head toward him and said, "I died? I thought I was unconscious."

  "No, and there were moments I thought we were all going to be gone. Slats faced the creature himself, and he was on the ground when Arsus here . . . " he said, pointing toward Legatus. "Well, when he regained consciousness and saw what had transpired, Arsus made it to his spear, and, with all the force he had, hurled it at our foe, stunning it long enough for Slats to strike again and then get back to this spot and release magic. Arsus indeed proved his worth, at least to myself."

  Euso ran out of breath from his long spiel of words.

  She turned back to him, before shaking her head and bowing to the injured Legatus. "Perhaps, my anger was misplaced, Arsus."

  "I am glad you are well, elf," he said. "This place seems a glorious wonder of your people. I am happy to have done my part to honor the races of elves and dwarves."

  She nodded and then looked back at the smashed statue of Etha and to the elf, Truesong. Slats sighed, tucking the Dwarven Hand into his belt.

  "Let us go."

  The grasses grew over the stone of the temple and flowers now bloomed under the statues. Looking out, the other statues across the room grew flowers around them.

  Both Slats and Berie bowed to those of their brethren and the goddess, and departed although Slats and Arsus retrieved their weapons before they hurried to join the others at the gate. They noticed now that the Hammersongs at the silver gates, as well as all that had fallen to the might of the monster defeated by Slats, were not only adorned with the many colored blooms but that their petals sparkled in the sunlight. Magic had acknowledged them in remembrance of their stand.