by Colin Tabor
“It would be lunacy.”
“Letting Ossard fall to the cults is a greater madness.“
“Is it? Could they possibly cause as much destruction as Lae Wair-Rae and the Heletian League going to war?”
“Please, listen to me…” He shook his head as he waged some inner battle. “I want to help you, but…” he hesitated before finally speaking, “You ask if a cult-controlled Ossard could be worse than a war that took in all of Dormetia?”
“How could it?” I sighed. “It’s but one city!”
“Yes, but that dark Ossard would launch its own war, one waged with ritual magic. And with that they could win!”
Sincerity rode his words, yet how could one city bring such doom?
He saw my doubts and challenged them. “Look around you at the carnage and destruction, and this has only just begun. Imagine this happening in every village, town, and city. Imagine all nations falling into chaos, all streets seeing discord and riot, and all farms and houses being looted and razed. Imagine every child abducted, and every parent willing to take up arms to get their kin back. Imagine, in that chaos, how many innocents will die.”
His words reminded me of what Sef had said. I asked, “Will peace never have a chance?”
He shook his head. “If the cults ruled Ossard, peace would only come when all else has fallen. Any survivors would then have to suffer through war’s closest friends; pestilence and famine. Afterwards, Dormetia would spread as a bleak and wasted land, from the misty forests of Wairanir, to the icy coves of Quor, and the sunbaked bluffs of Serhaem. All of it would lie ruined and lifeless as a shrine to madness.”
He was right. I hated it, but he was right.
He went on, “Ritual magic will give them that power, and that’s why they must be stopped.”
Smoke rose over the city to add to the dark pall. A haze hung everywhere, and through it, I could hear occasional screams and distant fighting. Ossard had already fallen far, but had it fallen too far?
I still wasn’t sure…
I asked, “What are these rituals supposed to do?”
“There are many and they come in stages, and I’d think the first have already passed. The easiest things to watch for are three major rituals. The first uses the blood and souls of ninety-nine innocents. It creates a celestial beacon that will attract the gods.”
“Innocents?”
“Children.”
I swallowed. “Do you think they’ve already done that?”
“Yes, not that we know the when or where of it, but the beacon is lit and calling into the celestial.”
My mind went to the gory discovery in the warehouse of only days ago.
He went on, “Then there’s a ritual that requires one thousand and one sacrifices. It sanctifies the city.”
I nodded. “Is that what we’re facing now?”
“I would think so.”
“And the next?”
“The last ritual is the largest, and the most important to stop. It happens a year and a day after the city has been sanctified…” he paused, screwing up his mouth in revulsion, “and it takes ten thousand and one souls.”
I cursed, trying to conceive of the power.
He went on, “It creates a gate, a divine focus, a place where the celestial and the real world meet. It’s a place for raw energy to spill through, even the gods if they so wish. With such power behind it, a cult-ruled Ossard would be unbeatable.”
My grandmother whispered, “He speaks the truth.”
I asked, “Can we stop it?”
He nodded, but his face was grim. “It would be best to stop them sanctifying the city, but for a place this size, one thousand and one souls are not hard to find. We have to assume that they’ll be able to do it, and if they do, then our best course of action is to deny them the ten thousand and one souls they need for the next ritual.”
“How?”
He shifted his gaze to Baruna and Marco. “Who are these?”
The question surprised me, but worse still I didn’t have an answer.
Marco offered something in my hesitation, but his words only startled me more, “We follow her.”
I blushed. Gods had followers, not Flet housewives.
The Lae Velsanan looked back to me to share my surprise.
I glanced away in embarrassment, my gaze coming to rest on his ship’s crew. Some of them were watching us. Without even trying I found myself sampling their thoughts.
“Half-breed, look at him panting after that Flet!”
“Only second in command because of his family!”
“Look at the back of his shirt, already stained with sweat. He’s an animal, just like the middlings he mixes with!”
“Hairy mongrel, it’s demeaning to serve under him!”
I flinched at their resentment, but the officer didn’t notice, he’d dropped his eyes and was bowing.
“I am Felmaradis of House Jenn.”
I offered a curtsy in turn. “Juvela Liberigo.”
He said, “I know what I’m saying might sound incredible, particularly coming from a Lae Velsanan.”
I gave a slight nod.
“But Ossard is tainted, and now that corruption is blooming. There’s no easy way to stop it. You need to understand how much danger you’re in.”
I said, “Isn’t it possible that these troubles will pass?”
“Every city sees disturbances, even majestic Yamere, but this is different. This is not about local grievance or injustice. These aren’t mortal problems, but those fuelled by the divine. None of the factions involved will stop, not until they win control or are destroyed in the trying.”
I was beginning to believe him. “But I worry that Ossard will free itself of the cults, only to end up in the hands of the Inquisition.”
He said, “That’s preferable to the cults winning control and establishing a gate. If they’re collecting bloodlines, then they’re already preparing for powerful magic. When the city is dedicated to the Terura Kala, the cults of the Horned God, they’ll be able to conduct other rituals to secure their power. The more souls present in their sanctified city, the stronger the magic that they can call upon. Ossard will become a bridgehead, a place of dark magic, and the starting place for all things to come.”
“Can we stop it?”
He grimaced as he shook his head. “Them taking the city, no, it’s already lost. What we have to do is stop them keeping it, and going on to found their gate. You should leave the city and take any who’ll go with you, and you should do it while you can.”
“I won’t leave until I find my family.”
He grew intense. “Juvela, you don’t understand: I’m not asking you to leave and save yourself, I’m asking you to leave and save the rest of us. If you can get enough people out of the city, you might weaken them and delay their rituals.”
“Me? What if I can’t?”
“Ossard becomes a city of damnation. From here they’ll spread through their celestial gate to deliver their followers wherever they want. In time they’ll bring down all of Dormetia; from the Holy City of Baimiopia, to the cities of Fletland and Evora, and even the pillar-cities of Lae Wair-Rae and its colonies. In the end, we’ll all taste the bitterness of their corruption.”
I was confused. I just wanted Maria and Pedro back. “You’re telling me that my world is dying. It’s too much.”
He took a small step forward before whispering in perfect Flet, “I am second in command of this expedition, it led by Prince Jusbudere. We’ve been searching for the nest of the Terura Kala, and that search has brought us here. We’ve been watching for the last few seasons with suspicion, but now we know: They have chosen Ossard!
“You can only stop them by taking away what it is they want; Ossard’s souls. Find your daughter and husband if you can, but regardless you must get out.”
I protested, “Ossard has suffered upheaval before. Only twenty years ago the Inquisition was expelled amidst rioting!”
&nbs
p; “Look around you. This is no simple upheaval; it comes with kidnappings, ritual magic, and sacrifice. This is wrong, and not something done alone at the whim of mortals. There are greater forces at work here, and they’ll tear this place apart. Get your family and get out!”
He was only making sense.
Felmaradis sighed. “We’re leaving to carry word of the city’s slide into chaos, and that word will be passed on to King Giovanni of Greater Baimiopia. He will send Heletians to liberate the city, most likely the Inquisition. Just get out and take as many innocents with you as you can. If you can get enough people to safety, you’ll delay their rituals, and maybe even stop them.”
“Where can we go?”
“Follow the next northern sound as it cuts inland, there’s a set of ruins along its north eastern shore. It’s far enough away, yet reachable, with fresh water, and defendable.”
“And how long should we stay?”
“As long as it takes; maybe a season or two, perhaps a year. I will visit and bring news. This ship can moor right alongside the old ruins.”
Who was I to lead people away from their homes and comforts, and into the wilds? It was crazy, yet he was right; something was terribly wrong in the city, and I couldn’t sit back and wait for someone else to do something about it.
I asked, “How long do you think we have?”
“I don’t know, but the gathering of bloodlines means it can’t be far off. They’re preparing to sanctify the city, and you’ll know when that’s close because there’ll be a rush of kidnappings. Remember; they’ll need over a thousand souls, and because of that they’ll go for bloodlines. Each blood-related soul is double the worth of those that aren’t. That’s when you need to get out, even if it means turning the city over to them, or leaving your family behind.”
For one last time, I asked, “Is it really that bad?”
“The city is what will power them, or more so, the souls within it. The only way to stop them is to keep Ossard in the hands of a safe
faith, the Church of Baimiopia, otherwise the city will have to be razed.” He lifted his strong arms to put his hands on my shoulders. I looked into his eyes and felt a buzz of understanding, almost of kinship. He said, “It’s that bad, really. You’re a Flet, and I’m a Lae Velsanan, and we both know of the bloody history between our people, but you need to trust me.”
I gave a nod.
After a pause, he said, “If Ossard falls and becomes a nest of corruption, something ruled over by a demon-king, High King Caemarou will want the city taken. He’ll give King Giovanni and the Heletian League their chance, but if they fail, he’ll order the forces of Lae Wair-Rae’s Fifth and Final Dominion in. He can assemble a great fleet and army - one that will succeed. Once the city is secured, that gathered force will be put to use in nearby areas, and we both know where the next campaign will be.”
Weakly, I whispered, “Fletland!”
“I shouldn’t tell you these things, but I, unlike so many of my kin, love your people and hold them dear. Please believe it. It was a Flet woman, Una, who raised me, and it’s because of her that I speak.”
I nodded. It was common knowledge that the Lae Velsanans used middling slaves back at the Core of their dominion, many of them Flets.
“I’ve seen the plans: First they take some coastal towns to cut the roads between the three port cities, then, one by one, they lay siege to them before advancing up the river valleys. The coast will fall in a season, and the valleys and lakelands in a year. If Ossard is already gone, there’ll be few Flets left - and none that are free.”
I grew angry to hear such a thing. If he was right, the genocide would be all but complete. I looked to him, his sincere blue eyes and warm face. There was something about him. He cared. He wasn’t like the others, either his guards, or his cold-souled senior. I said, “I’ll do what I can. I’ll leave the city and find my family, and then find those ruins you spoke of. Thank you, Felmaradis, but I also have advice for you; watch your back. There are those amongst your crew who don’t think you deserve your post. I think otherwise.”
He grinned; he already knew. “In a season I’ll arrive at the ruins and expect to meet you and your family.”
A smile eased my doubts. I could trust him, even if he was Lae Velsanan.
From the centre of the city came the deep roll of thunder, its anger shaking the ground. We both turned to look; a huge ball of twisting black smoke rose into the sky, its bulk streaked red and yellow.
I turned back to Felmaradis. “What if Ossard destroys itself?”
“The worst outcome is to have the city unified under the Terura Kala. If it remains divided and feuding, they can’t make use of the souls here.”
“The city is divided between the Flets, the Heletians who support the Inquisitor, and finally the Reformers who follow the new saints.”
“The new saints?”
“Yes; Malsano, Santana, Rabisto, and Kave.”
“Malsano is of the Terura Kala, and Kave is also placed there by most scholars, though I’m not sure of the others.” He shrugged. “The Inquisitor might be hard to work with, but you know who he’s loyal to.”
“I understand.”
“I’m sorry I can only wish you luck. I’d stay and help if I could, but I have my own duties. If all seems lost, just get your people out. Don’t let them stay and be slaughtered.”
“I will.”
“I wish you well.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled and turned to go back to his ship.
I watched him leave, while listening to the distant sounds of fighting from the city. It was still spreading.
What lunacy.
A crowd had gathered around me. For a moment their presence irritated me - followers! What were they thinking?
My grandmother’s voice hissed, “Are you not worth following?”
Was I?
Damn it, I just wanted my family! If these people were going to insist on following me about like a pack of hungry children, they may as well work for whatever comfort I gave.
“Let’s go.”
They smiled, just having me address them filled their faces with life. Deep down their joy even gave me a lift. We were helping each other.
Felmaradis watched from the deck of his ship, and watching him was his brooding Prince.
We travelled up a street that would eventually lead us back to Market Square. It was a different route than we’d taken to get to the port, but I wanted to search a new area. I sensed the celestial as we walked down that mostly empty way, trying to concentrate on the task at hand, but my mind wandered…
Was Felmaradis right?
Could it be true?
Was it too late for Ossard?
We turned down another street, its buildings looted, some boarded up, and others gutted by fire. A haze of smoke haunted the streetscape, rising from the smouldering rubble that lay spilled about. It was an ominous path to take, but quiet, so I led us down it.
The smoke stung my eyes, while a dusting of ash powdered my dress. The silence made it painfully obvious that the street was empty, and all but abandoned and dead. Only this morning it had held shops with homes above, its own little community, but now all of that was gone. I supposed the people of the district were in hiding from the violence - or perhaps chasing it to other parts of Ossard.
It was a place of deep shadows, ruin, and sadness, but I still believed it could be made right. Surely, for this was prosperous Ossard.
Couldn’t it?
I stopped when I came to the first body.
It was a Heletian who’d been stabbed in the stomach and bled to death from the wound. He was sitting up against a wall, his bloody hands holding his stomach in, with his dying face marked by a harsh grimace. A black cloth was tied about his forehead - a follower of the Inquisition.
I took a few more steps, resolving to not let his unseeing eyes haunt me, but they did. I lifted my gaze heavenward to free myself of what else lay about,
but couldn’t.
A thickening pall of smoke issued from the city’s countless fires to hang above and transform the day’s light into something ruddy and dark.
Had the city fallen too far?
My hopes insisted that I couldn’t be sure.
I slowed at the sight of another body. The bloody and torn folds of a dress covered the young woman’s sad remains, but the cloth was crassly hitched up at her legs. She’d been beaten to death and raped.
We kept moving only to find another corpse, then a pair, and then some more. Soon I didn’t look, I just walked between the rubble and the dead. I tried to ignore them.
How callous I felt…
We went as quickly as we could, but swirling smoke and spilled ruin made progress slow. Whatever had happened here had unfolded before the battle in the square. This was part of some other fight, terrible and senseless. It was simply a waste of life.
After trying to avoid the bodies and their glazed stares, I couldn’t when I walked through the thick smoke and into one hanging from a balcony above. It was a lady, a Flet lady, and she hung there cold and stiff.
I gasped. To my horror I recognised her; it was Heifer, the girl I’d shared my Mint Lady outing with.
Others had also been hung with her, she just the first in a long line. They looked similar, perhaps related, and with a chill I realised it was a bloodline.
Had the city fallen too far?
Perhaps…
…and I cursed myself for denying it.
With the rubble, smoke, and bodies making passage slow and difficult, I began to wonder if we’d ever escape. Then things worsened as the tight street we were in delivered us into a small square.
And there I saw Ossard’s truth.
The local square, not much wider than the street we’d walked down, had been converted into an open-air chapel to one of the new saints. I guessed that it’d been dedicated to Santana from the amount of oleander blossom and leaves used as decoration. The greenery now lay withered and blackened, and a small stage charred and ruined. Also there, with their hands and feet bound, were the blackened corpses of a score of Santana’s followers. They’d been tortured and killed.