Two men lunged towards Sviska, a yodel in their throats as they jabbed spears, aiming for his face. He dropped down, grabbing the knee of one as his right hand thrust the dagger near the top of the man’s leg, ripping upwards and towards his abdomen. The man wailed and Sviska spun to his right, striking the second man in the ribs.
Sviska stood up just to have his body struck with a large weighted net. Two men with curved spears ran towards him. He stumbled backwards, working to pull the net off him and found his back against the railing of the ship. A spearhead sliced down, just missing him but cutting some of the ropes and catching itself in a plank of the ship.
Sviska cut himself free of the net just in time to parry another spearhead before grasping the shaft of the spear and giving a forceful kick to the other attacker. But the man was ready. In one motion, he caught his foot and forced it up. Sviska felt his head fly backwards and his legs flew over top of him as he was thrown over the railings.
The wielder of Sishan will not be so easily tossed away.
Sviska swiped the dagger toward the water and a column sprung up from the surf, pushing against him. He rose up and grasping the dagger tighter, he pointed towards the ship and floated back to the railing.
The men that had toppled him pointed in amazement as Sviska returned to the ship. They again went to attack him but too late, as with two swift stabs both fell dead.
He looked up to see Kealin moving into the interior of the ship and then scanned the waters around, spotting another fireball striking a nearby ship. Garoa and Tulasiro moved around the outside, causing as much chaos as they could. The ships of the fleet were still trying to use their lightning to destroy them but the swift narwhal evaded them.
Sviska spotted the man holding the wheel of the ship. He was larger than the others were. In his right hand he held a trident, as his left turned the wheel of the ship. Another ship of the fleet was coming to assist them and the captain of this one worked to line up the rendezvous.
Sviska sprinted towards the ship’s captain. His dagger in hand, he jumped towards the wheel and the man thrust the trident up, just missing Sviska but forcing his blade to parry. Sviska’s other hand balled into a fist, striking him as they both fell to the ground.
The man shouted and bit at Sviska’s face, his breath rank of cured fish and sour milk. Sviska buried his dagger into the man’s side. The man wailed, dropping his trident, and swung a fist Sviska’s way, landing a strike on his lower back. The bite of the punch was like a dull ache and he coughed, faltering away. He forced himself to his feet as the other man reached for his trident. They began a dance of blade and spike. The other Red Trident ship was closing in, fresh with new allies for the injured captain.
Moments before this, Berie and Slats had reached the top of the tower and, passing through an ornate door with jeweled awnings, they found a large circular room with narrow windows surrounding them. In the center of the room was a stone, different from the blocks that made up the forge and surrounding structure. A flat wall along one side of the room, blocking one of the windows, bore a runic inscription.
The elf looked from one of the windows towards the ships intermingled in battle, spotting Kealin, Sviska, and Garoa entering the rocky outcropping as Ruir went towards the Legion ships.
“It is a long shot, even for me, from this place.”
Slats looked out of a window opposite of Berie, noticing stacked rocks upon an island. He walked around the center stone-covered object and then looked towards the runic inscription. He began to read it out loud.
“Of those that dwell in the land of the northern mountains, protection has come from the sons of the mountain god, ere waters rise we cannot avoid losing this place, we seal the torch of Throka. Fear, we do, they being released without a dwarf to command them.”
Berie set an arrow to her bow and drew back. Her eyes could see the bow of the ship and an enemy seeking his death, waving his arms wildly as he fired the mounted crossbows. It was far shot but her eyes scanned the surf and the way the wind moved atop it. She released the string and he fell dead moments later as her arrow found its target.
Slats turned towards the rocky structure in the center of the room. His ax in hand, he approached the stone. The stone had been encased around something. He rubbed his fingers along it.
“I can break this. It is a softer stone.”
It seemed before the half-elf had learned of the place, those of the Island Nation had tried to chip away at the rock. Obvious by the small hammer and chisel left on the ground.
Slats needed no chisel. Lifting his ax, he stepped forward, sliding his hands together as he smote the rock. With a single strike, the stone crumbled. A large crystal, unaffected by his strike, lit the top of the tower with a white light bright enough so that Berie, who had taken another arrow to string, shielded her eyes and looked to Slats.
The crystal began to spin; a rumbling shook the entire island. Slats felt his feet trembling and outside the towering rocks began to roll off the nearby island.
Berie and he both went to get a closer look and found a ledge that jutted out over the forge below. The highest point of the old city was also a speaking place between the Dwarves and the sons of the mountain god.
The island began to move, as more rocks rolled, crashing into the water below. A form began to appear, as well as a second form, and a third. The rocky veins of earth moving took the shape of a dwarven-looking being, but massive and made of stones. They were living rock, some entity like giants but not of flesh. They stood tall, their feet deep in the sea, standing on the old cliffs, now hidden by the ocean. One of them stood over the rest, looking over to the ledge and Slats and Berie.
It stared, unmoving. The other two stood somewhat shorter, but waiting also.
Slats breathed heavily. It seemed that it waited for a command. Slats thought of the inscription and took a deep breath.
“Sons of the mountain god, I, Slatnichor, command you defend this place! Help our brothers-in-arms!”
The lurching beings began forward, their legs following the old spines of the mountains long forgotten below the surface of the seas. Their hands reached atop the peaks of the island chain and pulled boulders free. In a bombardment unlike any of recent days, the massive stones demolished the Legion Armada ships on the far edge of the attack which had already begun to flee. The people of the Island Nation cut down legionnaires abandoning their ships to escape their deaths. Though the crossbows had destroyed half of the fleet, the damage wrought on the Armada by the giants was absolute.
Sviska continued to struggle with the man. He had landed two more slices. One opened up the man’s brow, having just missed his eyes. The other along the man’s leg, as he had attempted to slice the large artery there but was thwarted by a thick layer of leather and metal.
The man’s trident was broken now. An attempt to stab Sviska after knocking him to the ground had left him without a weapon, as Sviska rolled out of the way and then noticed the man struggle to remove his stuck spear points. He refused to let go but was knocked to the ground as Sviska lunged at him, breaking the wooden handle.
A low and deep thundering voice yelling across the waves caused both Sviska and the captain to jump and turn.
One of the sons of the mountain gods had made his way to the border of the dwarven ruins and stood tall, a large piece of rock in its hand.
The ship that had just pulled close to assist spotted the giants and turned away, attempting to flee. The giant threw a boulder and the men aboard jumped from the deck before it disappeared in an explosion of water and wood as the ship was pulverized.
The captain of the remaining ship ran in fear for the aft of his ship. Perhaps he was going to jump but Sviska was not sure. In a shaky glance back towards Sviska, the captain failed to notice Kealin ascending from the depths of the ship. He turned to see Kealin’s blade swinging towards his neck before falling into a bleeding heap, splashing blood all over the deck.
Sviska watched in a h
orrid awe, unable to move, as the monstrous form grasped more of the island, breaking through ice and rock in a trembling crackle, before tossing boulders of all sizes at the fleet. Many ships turned to flee, while others turned towards the monster, the front of their ships casting lightning upon the island, striking the creature of stone.
The other two creatures came from behind it, having dealt with all of the Legion Armada; their hands were free to throw more stones towards the Red Trident fleet. In a series of barrages, each rocking the ship Sviska and Kealin had taken with tumultuous waves, the Red Trident fleet was all but destroyed. Stragglers of the fleet fled, their ships making for the farthest edges of the horizon to flee the attack by the sons of the mountains.
In a monstrous rumble, the sons of the mountains roared with mouth agape. They turned back towards the dwarven forge.
Kealin patted Sviska’s shoulder, “Dis is why I needed you here. I did not know dey would attack like dis but I hoped the dwarf could awaken the old defenses I had read of. It seems he did dat. I doubt they will ever come this way while we still live. Come, back to the boat.”
Garoa came before the ship, looking up at Sviska and Kealin, “What were those?”
“Some type of dwarven magic,” said Sviska, “Did you fare well?”
“Well enough, meaning that I avoided being pummeled by rocks, yes, and that is a nice ship you have.”
Sviska looked around. The bodies of the fallen littered the deck but it was the only ship that remained floating in the area.
“Yes, it is nice. Maybe we should go sailing. I’ve always wanted to take a ship for a jaunt to the unknown.”
“Jaunt in da cold sea is not so great,” laughed Kealin, “We all did well here. Let us return to the forge.”
Slats stood with Berie as the stone giants returned. It seemed that though he did not expect such a calling, he was a dwarf and as such, their master, in a way. A least, it seemed so. The taller one stood again near the tower and looked towards Slats.
“What do I do now?” he asked Berie.
The elf shrugged, “They are giants of stone that seem to listen to you, have them do what you want. I do not even know what these beings are.”
Slats stared at them, “They are guardians of old. I had heard of them in myth as a child, the ‘sons of the mountain god come with the sounds of thunder.’ They were said to be controllable only by the dwarves of old times, that is, prior to even the foundations of Harodarr in the eastern mountains. They are the oldest of my kin.”
Slats took his ax and held it aloft towards the beings, “Rest now and go with grace. Be watchful though of the waters around this place and let none with ill will towards those of magic cross these borders.”
The rocky form seemed to bow, before it and the other two, lay down upon the mountains to rest, their bodies becoming again just as the mountain tops they laid upon. The crystal of the tower still burned brightly. The light of Throka, lit by Slats, would remain.
They hurried down to the lower level to meet the returning ships.
Ruir was still standing at the fore of his ship. The other ships returned also but with many men bloodied and injured.
“Get the wounded off. We must search for survivors!” Ruir look to Slats and Berie, “I know not the evil that came to aid us,” began Ruir, “but aid, it did. A few more of those and we will take the Legion out with ease.”
“They are not evil. They are guardians of the dwarven ruins, sons of the mountains,” Slats said, “They will remain watchful guardians as long as the crystal burns in the tower above.”
Ruir climbed from his boat dockside and sighed, “Well then, it will be kept safe, for none can match the might of the stone creatures! We should take them to Lokam!”
Around the corner and through the wide berths of the longships, came Tulasiro and the ship of the half-elf.
“Kealin!” said Ruir, “We did well in the face of so many. We lost five ships but in men, we lost even less. We are going out to search for survivors.”
“Good. I got you a new ship,” said Kealin, “Da way was bloody but it is a happy sight seeing that those that brought the blade were so afraid they fled . Even the ones in the water that had escaped immediate death, did not dare come near. Tulasiro has gone back, to ensure none of them try to get back on the ship.”
Sviska went to Slats, “Stone creatures, something about that makes me think you, sir dwarf, were involved.”
“Good work, Slats,” Garoa said.
“And you too, Garoa.”
They each nodded and Garoa went towards the door into the forge.
“Berie?” asked Sviska.
“I did not do much to speak of,” she smiled, “a few arrows and then Slats figured out the secret to the room.”
“As I knew he would,” said Kealin, “I am glad of it.”
“What of this attack now?” said Ruir.
“They will not return here,” Sviska began, “But no stone giants guard the Island Nation. We also need to be wary of the people of the Red Trident; they, too, may return and attack the Islands.”
“Da Legion is who pays them so maybe, but mercenaries do not work well under conditions where giants of stone are found.”
“I am happy of our numbers today, but the number of ships lost is not good. Though we can rebuild, this is not something we needed just before an attack where we need every ship we have.
“We have more within the Island Nation but another attack may not leave us in such a good position even with giants guarding the forge. We must make further preparations for our attack. Waiting much longer will prove disastrous. We will press our attack on Lokam. I will send word to the other islands and my own men and go directly to Srun.”
“Then we will return to Kersa and then continue towards Srun with Knasgriff,” said Sviska.
“Do not forget the ship,” said Kealin, “I will bring it in with Tulasiro; you can stock it with weapons and some crew members, and then take it to Knasgriff.”
Ruir laughed, “I thought you had gotten that ship for Ruir!”
Kealin smiled, his curved teeth showing, “I was mistaken. It is not good for you.”
“You know us of the Island Nation well, those ships are too large. We like making the shallow water our ally! I will keep my other ship.”
The midday sun burned above them even in the cool northern waters. Kealin had towed the ship nearer to the forge and the smaller ships made trips, delivering cases of armor, axes, and arrows, as well as extra supplies, as men from the forge planned to leave to join the gathering forces of the Island Nation.
Slats joined Garoa, who had begun in to carry their armor to Kealin’s boat but then turned and went towards the Red Trident ship to load it. The armor was stacked in the ship’s hold except for Slats’, who gladly wore the fine metals and images of his people, no matter the weight on his body.
Before the afternoon sun had begun to set, the ship made way towards the south. The crew were busy working to open the main sail as a cold wind blew over them. From the far north, a gust began, catching the sails, and pushing them forward. They each stared back at the forge, the lighthouse atop the island now shining brightly with the crystal alight, and the stone giants watching the waters around the forge.
Before they could find any rest on their journey, they had a bit of work to do. In particular, tossing the remaining bodies overboard and cleaning the deck. Sviska was not particularly used to cleaning up after he killed someone but it needed to be done. Now they moved towards Kersa over calm seas.
Sviska went to the front of the ship. Peering over the bow, he looked at the stone statue that had cast such random blasts of lighting at them before. The image was that of a maiden, her hands held out to her sides, her hair like a flowing raiment but encased in stone. He did not know how those of the Red Trident had used such magic and there was no instruction he could find on the ship.
“Do you only care to spend time with women of stone?” a voice said behind hi
m.
He jumped, turning to see Berie. She smiled at him as he sat along the rail of the ship.
“We have not been able to speak as of late, it seems,” he said to her, “at least, not on any personal level.”
She said nothing. Resting her elbows on the rail, she looked out, her eyes scanning the horizon as the wind blew through her hair. Her blue eyes seemed to be one with the sea.
“Not like the woods of your people,” he said to her. It was an obvious fact but one intended to produce relaxed conversation.
“No. But there is a sense of peace here,” she looked at him. “I have not forgotten, in all of the weeks that have passed, our time under the trees in the Estate of Elinathrond. I wanted you to know, I had not partaken in such a peaceful and, well… happy time in a long while before.”
Sviska was not sure what to say. He looked towards her and a strand of hair that blew over her face. Before she could tuck it back over her ear, he did it for her. She smiled and turned from the railings. Sviska smiled also. In his many dealings with people in his life, he had never felt as he did at this moment. The times under the trees with the elf had not left his mind either.
The evening sun was beginning to sink as the island of Kersa went from a bleak outline to smoking chimneys, and the ship came to rest outside the walls of the city. With a clanking crash followed by a plunge into the depths below, the anchors set the ship in firm placement.
From down below, a small ship met them and they made their way off the ship down rope ladders. A quick row to the shore and they were on land again. Knasgriff and Euso approached in a hurry with a contingent of many soldiers.
Saints of Wura: Winemaker of the North, Arcane Awakening, Reckoning in the Void (Saints of Wura Books 1-3 with bonus content) Page 59
