The Fall of Ossard

by Colin Tabor

Nothing…

  “Get down on the cobbles like this afternoon.”

  I dropped to the road and gripped the cold stones.

  Nothing…

  My tears came.

  Sef asked, “Might she be asleep?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Try again. Call out to her soul, call out with everything.”

  I did as I tried to use my power.

  Nothing…

  I stood up and shook my head.

  Sef said, “We’ll still go in.”

  “Thank you.”

  He nodded, but grew tense as he searched the surrounding shadows. “We must be careful, the night whispers; we’re not alone.”

  We hurried back to our band.

  The Kavists stood eager and ready. They knew tonight might deliver a fight, but they were also aware that the kidnappers of children would be less than honourable. Surviving such an adversary would require caution.

  Some of them stretched their limbs, while others whispered prayers, yet all tried to hold the quiet that luck had so far allowed. With relief and weapons drawn, we began our advance.

  Though they were warriors who’d shed blood and taken lives, my upbringing made me see them as more than bringers of battle and death. To the Flets of Ossard, Kavists were the defenders of Fletland, and for that we were grateful. We felt we owed Kave a great debt.

  We crossed the street and tried to keep to the dim night’s shadows. Leading us, Sef soon discovered a door halfway along the short alley’s length. We gathered about it, while a young Fletlander dropped to his knees to check the lock and work at it.

  He was about to force it when we heard something behind us; a chuckle from the dark.

  The Kavists turned with raised swords, but there was nothing to see besides the alley and its shadows.

  Sef hissed, “Juvela, get your back to the wall!”

  His tone wiped the surprise from my face. “What is it?”

  “The followers of Mortigi.“

  The God of Murder!

  I found the wall, and planted my back against it.

  And again laughter sounded, this time from the loading dock.

  Sef said, “The light is poor, we must be careful and have faith.”

  The Kavists broke into a chant.

  In the silence that followed the air grew chill, my breath icing up in front of me.

  The coming of magic…

  The alleyway began to brighten under a weak but rising light. The smoke haze cleared to reveal the moon, the great orb’s blue face marked by swirls of white.

  The Kavists uttered a chorus of thanks.

  In answer, a woman’s voice sang a slow counter-prayer, it coming from the dark.

  Sef hissed, “Lady Death.”

  Again laughter sounded from the shadows.

  The moon’s light began to fade, the haze returning to cloak it like a shroud.

  Mortigists killed for pleasure, and to offer the stolen souls as morsels to their cruel lord. They were the antithesis of Kavists who fought out of necessity. They were bitter rivals.

  Damn them, I just wanted my husband and daughter!

  Lady Death purred from the advancing dark, “We’ve been hunting since dusk and claimed many, but I can see blessed Mortigi has saved the best sport for last!”

  Sef spat in her direction. “Sport you can’t handle!”

  Laughter greeted his retort.

  To be so near my goal, only to be delayed fired my anger, and with its stirring my soul’s power began to churn.

  Damn it, my family was so close, but Death’s servants closer!

  It just stoked my fury, yet it wasn’t focused on anyone else, just my powerless self - and that fury began to burn.

  Where was my damned witchery?

  The Mortigists came forward cloaked in the dark that they’d called, the lack of light tilting the balance in their favour.

  I was useless!

  Yet my trapped power boiled inside of me.

  I didn’t need much of it, just a bit, just a taste of its searing heat and shadow-killing glow.

  Please Schoperde, I just wanted my family - was it too much to ask?

  My power bucked as it mingled with my anger, the two painfully merging as they tore at the very fabric of my soul.

  The agony!

  Hot and rampaging, it threatened to consume me.

  Then it happened…

  Under all that pressure something finally gave.

  The barrier stopping my power was no longer whole!

  It began to leak through. It came as a trickle and was only a start, showing in the real world as a flourish of sparks.

  I groaned at the pain.

  Was my soul going to burst?

  A new round of agony shot through me.

  I gasped, “Sweet Schoperde!”

  And then came relief.

  A wave of green light rushed out from me. For a moment, the lane flared while I slumped to the cobbles, listening to the deafening thump of my heart.

  Something had broken.

  Something was free.

  And that something was me.

  My mind felt like it was spinning, and my heart kept drumming out, finally the power in my soul was ready to use - if only I knew how.

  My vision drifted from the celestial to the real world, fading between one and the other as it cycled round and through. In that collage of images I saw the Kavists ready themselves, movement in the shadows, and two gods face each other through their followers and their truths.

  And amidst it all I heard my grandmother gasp, “Oh, I thought they were all gone?”

  Back in the alley, I began to lift myself up as my hand grabbed at a loose cobble.

  Sef called over his shoulder, “Juvela?”

  “I’m… I’m alright.”

  And then the last of the sparks faded to let the Mortigists renew their advance.

  Without thinking, I lifted my hand that clutched at the cobblestone, opening it so that it sat in the flat of my palm. With a sense of wonder I could taste the coming of magic - my magic.

  I was going to cast.

  It stirred as a cool sensation in my belly, and then deepened to grow wild. It spread to my chest before surging along my arm, to my hand, and then to set the cobble’s dark surface to sparkle. Within a heartbeat its surface became covered in a skin of frost. My palm tingled with the flow of power, but I seemed otherwise immune to its bite.

  Wisps of mist began to rise from the stone and lazily drift about. The glimmering ice crystals didn’t last though, they melted to become short-lived beads of water that were then turned to steam. When the steam began to fade, the water gone, and the ice only a memory, the rock came to glow.

  A soft red light bathed the flesh of my hand, but I still felt nothing of it. The stone went from red, to orange, and then to yellow, giving me light enough to see. I lifted it above my head as it brightened to illuminate the alley.

  The Kavists cheered.

  And in a dozen places about us, the black clad cultists stood revealed. They fell back, but not before the closest of the Kavists stepped after them to strike. Two warriors cried out as they landed hits.

  One of their victims dove to safety in the dark, but the other fell. The cultist landed on his back, exposing a deep gash to his shoulder that showed bone and gushed blood. My flaring light lit his head and chest, but the rest of him was lost to the murk of shadow.

  The warrior who’d struck him stepped forward to finish the job, but a whispered prayer from the dark caused him to slow.

  Sef called, “Stay in the light!”

  The warrior snapped, “The kill’s mine!”

  But Lady Death challenged, “No, the kill is mine.” And two black-gloved hands slipped from the edge of the dark, one brandishing a knife. She hissed, “I take this for Mortigi!” And then slit the cultist’s throat.

  The Kavist was already lunging forward with body and sword, his swing ending in the doomed man’s chest - but his s
oul had already been claimed.

  Sef growled, “There’s no honour in this!”

  But the gloved hands stayed there, not even flinching as they sat on the cultist’s chest as it was cleaved. Then, like a striking snake, they darted forward to fly up the Kavist’s bloodied blade, the darkness following to keep Lady Death hidden.

  The warrior’s own body blocked the detail of what happened next - and for that I’m glad. I saw him stumble back, but too slowly, leaving himself open to her attack. He grunted in shock as the cobbles about him took the spray of his lifeblood, the noise tapering off into a sigh.

  In an instant more gloved hands appeared to grab at him, them dragging him into the dark. A brief silence followed, only broken by the horrid sounds of stabbing, tearing, and the wet thumps of butchery.

  Sef hissed, “He was a fool!”

  Something landed on the cobbles in front of us - a severed hand.

  A moment later, the warrior’s body loomed up at the edge of my circle of light. He’d been stabbed and carved, his armour and clothes shredded, and his lifeless face marked with Mortigi’s five-pointed star. The body then fell forward to land with a sickening crunch. His own sword stuck out of his back, standing straight and bloodied.

  A silence followed, it broken by Lady Death, “An eye for an eye.”

  I reached up and split my molten cobblestone, hurling a gob of the white-hot stuff after her. It hit the cobbles to spray flaring lumps and a galaxy of sparks. Robed figures spun away, giving us a moment to gather ourselves, yet still the lane wasn’t safe - it was time to move into the opera house.

  Sef turned to the big warrior next to him. “Cherub, force the door.”

  He then looked to me with a wry smile. “Thank you, Juvela.”

  I grinned as I marvelled at my flaring light. Finally, I’d cast something, and been able to help by gaining us some time. But my pride was short-lived.

  Lady Death hissed, “Curse you!”

  And I thought they were just words…

  Sef’s face lost its colour as fear filled his eyes.

  But my perception had already taken flight.

  And in the celestial, Mortigi came to put his mark on me, him incomprehensible and immense.

  His attention shot through me like cold shards of ice, hurled by a gusting gale built of nothing but sleet and death.

  Pain stabbed and slashed, and at the same time his anger burned into me, all of it leaving me squirming under its volcanic heat.

  His hate torched my soul, working to extinguish my life’s light, yet somehow, through some miracle, I managed to last through it and survive.

  I found myself slumped on the ground.

  Someone began lifting me, holding me under the arms and pulling me into the opera house. I wanted it to stop, to get back on my feet, until I realised I couldn’t move.

  I watched one of my hands, the knuckles being rubbed raw as it was dragged over timber boards. Somehow it still gripped the blazing stone. All the while, lost in shock, I drooled and dumbly hummed. It took a long time for my sluggish mind to recognise what; it was Schoperde’s song, a song of sorrow, but also hope.

  16

  The Opera House

  Sef looked for somewhere to put me amidst the cobwebbed clutter of the opera house, it all lit by the blinding light flaring from my hand. In the end he settled on the first thing he saw that would hold me, a stage prop; an old and dusty divan.

  He talked fast and looked worried as tears ran from his eyes. I couldn’t understand him, my mind running slow and haltingly. Still, the confusion eventually drained away to be replaced by a rising tide of excitement.

  We were inside!

  Kavists rushed past us to spread throughout the darkened building. This was it, the rescue of my family - and I lay prone!

  Damn myself, this would never do!

  It took a good deal of effort, but I found I could use the energy boiling within me to reawaken my stymied mind. I had to force it, and it hurt to work at, but I persevered as things improved.

  That done, I set to work on my stuck muscles, as I tried to recover my mobility. I found I could ease the pain by losing myself in thoughts of Maria and Pedro and their proximity. Amongst those hopes, I could have endured anything.

  Recovering movement happened quickly once I understood how to manipulate the magic, but it left my muscles heavy and stiff. Unsteadily I sat up, and then tried to get to my feet.

  Sef panicked at my awkward attempt to rise, until I slurred, “I’ll be alright.” I swallowed and then added, “Please, see to the search, or we’ll be here all night.”

  He stared at me in awe, so much so that I had to turn away. After recovering himself, he glanced at the shattered door and said, “Watch it, they might try and come in.”

  I stretched my arm, the one that still held what remained of the flaring stone, and hurled it at the opening. It sprayed across the cobbles outside as it broke up to blaze with fresh fury. “No they won’t.”

  He smiled in disbelief as his tears continued to run. “Be careful in any case, if they want to get in they’ll find a way. We won’t be able to stop them.”

  I nodded. “Please, worry about Pedro and Maria.”

  He turned to follow the others, but kept gazing back.

  It was dim and quiet, with far too much of the space about me lost to shadow. A string of glowing orange-rimmed holes smouldered along the floorboards, they’d been born from where I’d dripped molten rock as I’d been dragged inside. None of it had caught to come aflame - and in that we’d been lucky.

  One of the Kavists had lit a lantern he’d found, but here on the backstage, amidst countless rows of props and backdrops, anything could hide. Simply, we needed more light.

  I took a deep breath and tried to grapple with some of the power still churning away within me. This time I had no rock, instead I grabbed a handful of coins from a prop treasure chest - they were wooden.

  I closed my hands over them and prepared to make them glow, but not in the way I’d unconsciously ignited the stone. I released some of my power amidst thoughts of the moon’s silver-blue light. My hands tingled and the air cooled: It was done, whatever it was.

  I hesitated in revealing it, so much so that I whispered a quick prayer to Schoperde before opening my cupped hands. And there the coins were, shining, but without the heat and glare of the cobblestone.

  It was good.

  I grabbed more and charged them, yet after a while my head began to ache. It left me wondering at my limits.

  Limits…

  To my mind, I’d still done nothing worthy of being burnt at the stake for. I needed to try harder things, yet now was no time for experiments.

  I scattered the coins around the backstage and passed on handfuls to the Kavists so they could better light their own way.

  It wasn’t long before we’d covered the backstage, the main stage, and the dressing rooms. Still, even with the light of the coins and an increasing number of lanterns, far too many shadows remained.

  I followed Sef through the curtains and onto the stage. The light we had with us barely reached the first few rows of benches. I charged another handful of coins and threw them out into the dark. I sighed and said, “We’d need fifty men to search this place.”

  Sef answered, “Yes, and more to defend it. It’s too big. We’ll get straight to the cellar and then out.”

  We both stood there looking at row after row of seating and the shadows that waited beyond.

  He said, “You could hide a hundred people out there, and that’s without any kind of magic.”

  As if in answer, the roof beams above creaked. Was it just the movement of the building, perhaps the wind, or someone up there hiding amongst the rigging? Could Mortigi’s followers have found a way in, and even now be creeping about searching for fresh kills? Aside from the faint outlines of rafters and dangling ropes, the detail of the heights remained a mystery. Sef was right; we had to concentrate on getting to the cellar, and then
out.

  He said, “Don’t worry, if they’re here we’ll find them.”

  His presence was reassuring, as it always had been.

  He called out for two Kavists to watch the theatre hall as we returned to the backstage.

  Cherub came looking for us moments later. The big man said, “Found it, it’s back here!” And he pointed down a coin-lit passage.

  My heart raced, something only doubled when Sef smiled and patted me on the shoulder. He gathered five Kavists and set the rest on watches.

  Cherub led us down the dusty and worn corridor made narrower by racks of covered costumes on one side. Half way along we came to a door that had a sign above it. I couldn’t read, but guessed it said cellar as Sef and Cherub both swapped knowing glances.

  I whispered, “Did you go in?”

  His voice rumbled, “It’s locked, so I thought I’d get some help.”

  Sef nodded. “Alright, let’s get ready. Juvela, stand back and let them through.”

  Reluctantly I stepped back.

  They bowed their heads in prayer, the whispered chant the only sound to disturb the quiet.

  For the first time since leaving Newbank, I began to feel uneasy. We were so close, but it could all still go so wrong. A panicked guard might use them as hostages, or shields, or even kill them. Maybe even now the cultists rushed through their ritual.

  The anxiety building within me nearly won out, almost making me cry for Sef and his fellows to stop. Before I could say a thing, though, Sef nodded, and Cherub rammed his shoulder into the door.

  It didn’t stand a chance.

  The door exploded in a shower of snapping planks and splinters, its ruins following him as he charged down the stairs and into the dark. He carried his sword in one hand while the other flung my charmed coins about.

  If the big Kavist’s arrival hadn’t brought enough chaos to the cellar, the others who followed him certainly did. They all cried out, and showered wooden coins about, while carrying their swords ready.

  I slumped against the wall unable to watch.

  Sef gave me a sympathetic look, but it faded along with his cool confidence.

  Something was wrong…