As the polar lights began to swirl red atop the ruined temple, the fogs began to thicken. The Itsu priest rose out of the cloudy plumes, grasping the fogs as if they were a large sack.
The Staff of Kel, encased in stone, floated near him.
In a rush of wind, the priest, the staff, and all that were below him in his foggy grasp, disappeared from Elinathrond. The polar lights drifted from view, fading back into the clouds as the chasm of fire, the sacrificial crevice, went dark. The god Wura’s intervention had halted the incantation.
"What happened?" Garoa asked.
Brethor closed his hands and held them at his face. Exhaling, he turned to them.
"The Staff of Kel in the hands of the Itsu would bring upon us a malice unlike any have seen. Among other things, I fear that with the staff, the Itsu priest could bring even Kel to his knees. Wura stopped it. I doubted he would for a moment, but it seems that the gods are watching us tonight."
“Dimn had told us intervention was possible in a situation of extreme circumstance,” Sviska said, “But it seems Wura did little more than scare them from this place.”
"Where did they go?" Garoa asked. "The priest gathered all of them like its personal supplies and fled.”
"The Itsu fear intervention from Wura above everything else at this point. The priest is powerful, but he does not hold the full power to defeat Wura himself. Wura also would not allow the temple of his brother to be further desecrated as what was to happen this night. But of further importance, it takes a god to face another god. After this failure, I believe he will go where he feels safest. Somewhere where even Wura could be contested."
"Kel . . . " Sviska said. "Do you believe what they say of the city of Lokam?"
"Believe, and know. His imprisonment was long ago, as I have said, but as his power returns and The Order loses power. The Itsu have but a narrow window to return to our realm. It seems now is the time to move against them. We must stop them, but I fear of time. If what it said is true, magic has returned to the East, and the task of the Saints of Wura is partly done."
Brethor looked up into the sky and said, "This dark moon is a chalice that the magic of Itsu can fill and use.. It is by the gods’ powers that what we saw tonight transpired. Much magic would have been required by the Itsu priest to escape, and the incantation to obtain that staff, I fear, will work, and it will prove stronger than my own, which I placed upon the fall of Nelkor. But it will not take place for some time. My guess is not until the new moon, when the moon’s power is at peak. The Itsu priest needs that."
Brethor turned to Garoa and continued, "It is my guess that the Itsu priest has fled with his prisoners to Lokam. As you can see, both your path as a Saint of Wura, as well as a father, have aligned.”
“But where was Asnea? I did not see her here.”
“Did you see the Galhedriss Arcane, or The Order Hand? I told you, the priest does not treat her as a normal prisoner, as the ones you saw here. We will rescue her, but it is not this night nor should it be. Now we go to what I have desired most in the time since the fall of the city. We must go to the Asylum."
Sviska looked to Garoa and patted him on the shoulder.
“Come.”
They turned back toward the main road and jogged quickly under what remained of the elven trees. Making it to the locked door, it was clear many attempts were made to breach it, to no avail.
Through scrapes and pick marks, Brethor managed to get his silver key into the keyhole and twist it open. They passed through the door and then a second, and came to the large area and the rocky outcropping.
Once again, the rocks showed signed of battering and striking, but it seemed that they could not make entry into the dwarven cavern.
Brethor pressed at the symbols and, though magic was scarce, the passage opened and they stepped through. They made their way to the opposite side and the door rolled open.
An assembly of red robes met them, their staves outstretched, but quickly lowered as a familiar face emerged.
"Turmin!" Roega cried. "It is well to see you again!"
Roega went and embraced him, and Sviska bowed afterward. "Forgive me Roega, but my time before was of deceit. My true name is Sviska, born Resua. I was wrong before to deceive."
Roega nodded and said, "Though I will say you were wrong, seeing you as now with the Lord Brethor I know there is much I do not know besides a change in name. I am happy to see you three over the Legion scum. I had feared, hearing the passage open, that they had at last made their way in. We were ready to fight and die in whatever way it was to be."
"Roega, it is well to see you and the other of the Priory of Kel,” Brethor said. “I bring ill news as of now, as you can guess the city of Elinathrond has fallen. Furthermore, the Itsu priest has taken the Staff of Kel, and a great danger has fallen upon the land. But in all of this there is work to return magic to the land, and the curse is no more. The Order loses power.”
“A head is struck and another grows to replace it, it seems to me now,” Roega said. “The fall of Master Nelkor and the Demon of Ustavis was the last I knew before communication was lost. I had emerged once, but was nearly caught by the Legions and returned here. However, here we have moved all from the lower levels, and not another purge has been needed. It seems the cure to the curse was only its disappearance. All before affected are now well!"
Sviska saw the many faces that looked on in curiosity. The manic behavior, the erratic questioning, and the agonizing existence of the lower levels were no more. The people were well. The hope he had felt in crafting the wine had returned, but this time he knew the people were well and would stay that way, no longer needing an elixir to protect them.
"So then, the Legions?" Roega asked.
"Gone," Brethor said. "To Lokam, with the staff of Kel."
"Then it is well we shall leave this place, for none wish to remain here any longer."
In a general move toward the exit of the Asylum, the many people emerged, following the priors as well as Brethor, Sviska, and Garoa.
Many cried, others shouted for joy, and a general rush toward the two small doors leading out ensued. However, upon seeing the desolation of their once great city, few smiles remained.
In a slow breaking away, people wondered through the ruins. Some searched for trinkets of their families, others recounted of what had been in the Asylum. Another group followed the priors and the others.
Down the road, past the Priory, some priors went toward the ruins, shaking their heads in angst. Others went to the Altar of the Itsu and, in a rush of helping hands, pushed it into the crevice to remove it from their holy grounds.
The remaining few went on toward the Estate.
The courtyard was now empty. Here and there, bags and items left by those whom had tried to flee during the fall were now lost, to remain idly in the snow amongst the ruins of Elinathrond as a further beacon of sadness in an already dismal place.
Brethor shook his head. Although The Order and Legions had made home in Elinathrond, they did nothing for the dead of the city other than push their corpses away from the main roads. Many bodies lay partly covered in snow and picked at by mice that darted from the lights of the torches as they walked upon them.
Past the circular stone archways, where at one time the gypsy's carts sat, they passed the shattered gateway and came to the Estate.
Its once grand windows and doorway now lay as but a shell, gutted and thrown down by the Legions. Brethor went to the doorway of the estate, the doors stacked on top of one another to the right, splintered and broken from the Legions’ battering that fateful night.
It was there, pinned against the side of the estate, that the corpse of Captain Runa hung, pierced by the many spears of the enemy and left as a trophy of victory.
Brethor shook his head, taking hold of the spears one by one before placing his friend on the snow.
"Your debt is paid beyond value," he said to the others. "Much loss has been here, both today and t
he last as I was lord of the Estate and this city."
Looking through the doorway, the atrium of the Estate was now a balcony to the mountainside. All the rest of the structure had became nothing more than wreckage strewn down the cliffs. Except the lone statue of the winged figure looking upwards, what was once the home of the Lord of Elinathrond, was gone.
Sviska looked as those of the asylum filed into the courtyard of the estate. Roega and the priors were at the fore, and a sadness was upon them.
"The magic of this place has all but faded," Brethor said to them in a soft voice. He stared around at the ruins. "But it is well; I feel there is but a hint of enough to take you to the others." He tightened the bandage to his arm, the blood flow still steady and only partially stopped. "And that is where you must go."
"You should come too, all of you," Sviska said.
Those of the priors, as well as the people behind them, looked to Brethor. A man from the back shouted, "Let us fight! Let us take up arms against them!"
Brethor nodded and closed his eyes. He said, "It is that sentiment that I seek from others in this region and is such why I cannot follow you. When the Island Nations move against Lokam, we will be ready in Taria. The Leechers, as well as those of Lokam and surrounding areas, shall not miss a chance to strike at The Order. Garoa, send your dragons my way to alert of the attack, and we shall come with a fury not seen in many years. As long as it is before the next dark moon, we have a chance."
He pulled the amulet from his neck and handed it to Sviska. "Go now, to the others. If what we heard this night is true, then magic has returned to part of the lands. That shall indeed make your task easier."
Garoa said, "I will find her, Brethor."
"We will find her together, friend, though many times you sought my eye within these walls, know that I did not ignore your deeds, only that your deeds are greater than the mere cities of this land. You will find favor with Kel in time."
"We know they are gathering power in Lokam," Sviska said. "With the Island Nations seeking war, we will have our path to the citadel."
"That staff has the very power of Kel within it,” Roega warned. “It must not be freed of its rocky chain by the Itsu. This night is one of a dark moon. I agree with Brethor, we have until the next one in 10 days’ time. If we do not strike before then, we will lose, be it with magic returned or not.”
"I will not let the staff of the god be taken," Garoa said. "I held those of Kel in high regard, even before now. Master Nelkor was a friend to many, and it was he who instructed me to appease you, Brethor, for admittance into the Priory of Kel. His staff was to him a sacred thing. I will not have it defiled by the Itsu."
Brethor nodded to them and the priors bowed. Brethor embraced both Garoa and Sviska, gripping them tightly.
"My friends, take care in your plights. Tell Berie and Slats that it is well what they have done, and we will attend to the further releasing of magic in the land together, if we can. Sviska, say hello to my friend the half-elf."
Sviska smiled and took hold of Garoa by his tunic. He rubbed the amulet, and a glimmer of light within the stone flashed, as magic still left from the Staff of Kel surged within. There was a sudden shroud of blackness as a host of bats covered him and Garoa and lifted them up.
Brethor shouted from below them, "Take them to the elf and the dwarf!"
The winds rushed over them, and Sviska felt as before, his stomach pulled down as the bats fluttered off into the night sky.
Elinathrond passed out of sight. Unlike the time before, the bats held them from the back of their bodies, dangling them below. Looking down, the icy peaks and dark recesses of the mountains was below them. The sparkling of the moon over the sea was ahead. They were returning east, and in time aligned with the needs of both Berie, Slats, and all of the Island Nations.
Chapter 19 Siege of Srun
The men from Kersa motioned for Slats and his companions to remain quiet, and the townsmen disappeared behind a group of trees. They returned afterward upon horses, signaling for them to approach. They mounted and began a careful trek along the water's edge. Clouds shrouded the moon above and covered their passage in darkness.
Captain Erua directed that each of the guards take turn falling back and riding away from their trail. They had to assure they were not followed, as well as be sure that if someone was found he was dealt with appropriately.
They came to a point where the land turned rocky, and those of Kersa paused as they ascended a hill overlooking a narrow valley bordered on two sides by hills. It was clear what they wished for Slats’s party to see.
Running along the length of the valley, a large encroachment of glowing shapes, numbering higher than could be counted if one had time, marked the encampment of the Legion. A large structure, of recently cut wood and packed mud, stood in a square, with pits beneath the walls and towers at its corners. Torches showed manned walls and a considerable force guarding it. The tents set up within the fort appeared innumerable.
"A large force," Erua said flatly. “They say those within Srun are not prisoners, but if anyone is caught leaving they are corralled like wild animals and taken back. We must be thankful that thus far we have avoided their roving patrols.”
Slats looked behind them, over the waters of the seas, and he spotted a trio of ships, visible only because of their large lamps swaying in the wind. The ships were at anchor.
“More warriors, ready for battle?” he asked.
“Slave ships,” the captain corrected. “Come, let us go.”
They began, taking the road for some time before Erua pointed ahead of them.
"Srun is there."
If not pointed out by their guides, it would have remained hidden, shrouded in the blackness of the edge of the highlands that grew higher above the sea. Riding closer, it was a sheer-walled structure as far as they could make out in the dark, with a large circular structure just higher than the wall, but from a distance away it appeared to be hanging over the sea below.
Up an earthen path bordered by many broken statues, indiscernible of the original image, they came to a stone door marked by two torches. A large emblem of the sun made in red faced them. As they approached, the door cracked and crept open. Other men of the Island Nations stood in a large open atrium of sorts. All of them had weapons in hand. Berie and Slats dismounted.
"It is strange to seem so many of the Islands armed as such," Euso said, following the rest of them into Srun.
"That'd be our chieftain, Ruir," said a gruff man of similar stature to the Chieftain of the Ukka. "In fact, he said the Legions can take their legislations and clean the giant pore between their legs with it.”
The man spit and laughed, waving at them as they passed. He said, "Go on! They are waiting for you."
The doors closed behind them. The atrium was massive, at least four times the size of the one in Elinathrond, with adornments of faded paintings and rusted chandeliers. A crumbled and blocked path led away from the right of the atrium. To the left, the path turned quickly right again. An open hallway ran toward a walkway with large openings in the sides, truer to a partially covered bridge than a hallway. Looking up, they could see the stars, and over the edge the sea was below, thrashing with whitecaps of the surf.
The circular building had pillars that reached down to the rocks below. Large torches, glowing with red flames, gave light to the opened wooden door ahead.
They passed through, finding a large stone table crowned with a large glass dome that let in the starlight. Around it the heads of the Island Nations sat, passing time in each their own way, except for Knasgriff and Ukka, who stared at a map, ripping it from one another in a quarrel of sort, evident from their crossed eyes and the redness growing in Ruir's face.
Knasgriff saw them at once. He dropped the map on the table as he ran toward them.
"You have returned to us! Although I say we doubted it as these days have turned to a darker tone!"
He then paused, stared at Beri
e, and he then scanned each of the others.
"Her markings! Long have I desired to look upon the glow of the elves. Magic has returned to this land!"
Ruir followed after as Tvila ran over and looked to the present company with a raised eyebrow.
"Where is Garoa?" she asked.
"They have just arrived. Perhaps a drink or food?" suggested Ruir.
"No, it is fine," Berie said. "I take it by your question, Tvila, that Sviska and Garoa have not returned?"
"No," replied Knasgriff.
They went to the circular table and sat down. The New Srun Chieftain, Colui, sat half asleep, but woke as Slats reached over the table to grab at a loaf of bread, and he bumped the elder man’s hand as he settled into his seat.
"We did wait," Knasgriff continued, "but as we watched for your friends to direct them as to your path, the Legion returned and with many more men."
"It seems the half-elf's appearance was enough to send the Legion into a frenzy, for within a few days of you leaving, the entire Forth Legion came from Lokam and set up camp in the valley near this sacred ground of our peoples. It was then the ships came."
"Aye! You can't really call 'em ships. Really just stinky planks tied with mainland folk's intestinal parts," Ruir said.
Knasgriff shook his head and continued, "They came and demanded Kealin be turned in. When we told them we did not know his whereabouts, but they searched all of Kersa anyway."
"As it was also in Bovika and all other Island Nations,” Tvila added.
"All present here in Srun at least," Ruir snarled. "That Maerin is fine, I am sure. Soaking up the riches of selling us out to the Grand Protectorate!"
"You know not if that is true," Colui said. "I feel there is more to work here now."
One of the men who had led them to Srun cleared his throat from the side of the room. "Chieftain Knasgriff," he said.
The chieftain waved his hand for him to speak.
"We spotted prison ships just off the mainland on our way in."
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 52
