The Fall of Ossard

by Colin Tabor

  A daughter…

  Hot tears marked my cheeks.

  My grandmother shared my grief, yet something menacing stirred in the void nearby.

  She said, “Juvela, I have Atalia here, and she wishes to see you.”

  And another form stepped forward.

  She was spectral like my grandmother and painted in wisps of blue. She had a thin face and long hair, and in her arms she cradled a plump babe, her unnamed daughter.

  “Atalia?”

  She curtsied, her eyes shining with pleasure - or was it the spark of her own murderous fire? I also sensed the stink of smoke and noticed her daughter’s shawl was woven from it.

  I asked, “Should I tell Marco? I could bring him here.”

  Grandmother said, “I think it’s best he doesn’t know, at least not for now.”

  Atalia, all aglow in spectral blue, reluctantly nodded.

  Grandmother said, “Don’t worry, Juvela, you’ll find your own family. I haven’t seen them pass this way.”

  Her words strengthened me.

  She went on, “Your hope and compassion are strong things, they’re your things. Use them.”

  “Thank you. I should go now, I have so much to do.”

  They nodded.

  I began to shift my perception back as I moved between worlds.

  And at the same time, that lingering sense that something watched us grew, as if it circled and was about to pounce.

  Grandmother gasped.

  I paused in my leaving.

  And the sparkling fires in her eyes dimmed to become the dark pits that had marred her the first time we’d met. When they finished deepening, as if on cue, the halo of skulls sprang out from behind her.

  Atalia and her babe faded away, yet I noticed that their skulls remained. I could see them as I left that world, anchored to my grandmother and also enslaved to her fate.

  I left the celestial.

  22

  An Unpleasant Surprise

  I found myself on my balcony taking in a terrible view. The night sky spread in amber, highlighted in yellow and red over the districts where the fighting flared at its worst. Twisting pillars of smoke rose to feed the bloated pall above, and about it all rained ash and sparks adding to the hellish glow.

  I couldn’t see any stars or even the broad and swirl-marked face of the moon. It was as though the world centred on the unstoppable fall of Ossard and nothing but that lone doom. Aside from the granite-flanked valley snaking away eastwards, there was only the dark sea to the west. Nothing else could be seen. We were all alone now at the city’s death.

  Newbank held bustle and noise, some of it angry, yet no wild fires flared. Our district’s only part in the current chaos seemed to be in the endless stream of warriors we sent across the river, but such actions only added to the certainty of the coming end.

  Regardless of plan or policy, the Flets of Ossard were already aligned to the new saints. The revelation of the fourth, Kave, had seen to that.

  I might not have had all the answers, and been somewhat confused, and no doubt deceived by others, but my soul could sense the truth: The stink of the Horned God clung to the city.

  Ossard was doomed.

  There was nothing left to do, but to try one last time to find my family and then leave.

  Rumours were already running of a new wave of kidnappings. It could only be the spike Felmaradis had warned of: The cultists were getting ready to sanctify the city.

  Many of Newbank’s Flets laughed at such stories coming from across the river, but I couldn’t. I knew what it was to have my loved ones stolen away.

  Word had also come of the Inquisitor sending a ship south. It had cast off to seek aid from Greater Baimiopia and summon the rest of the Black Fleet. It wouldn’t get through. The unnatural storms Felmaradis had spoken of would be waiting for it. The simple truth was that whoever had worked to ruin Ossard had done a masterful job -and all the while remained hidden.

  A knock sounded at my door.

  I turned. “Yes?”

  It was Sef. “We’ve just heard news from our returning people.”

  He meant the packs of Kavists who’d crossed the river.

  “What news?”

  He strode in wanting to be close.

  I grew worried. “Pedro and Maria?”

  “No.”

  I sighed with relief. “What then?”

  “Juvela, it’s you! The Inquisitor has declared you responsible along with Kurgar for the woe that has taken the city. He’s demanded your head and body to be salted and burnt separately.”

  I laughed. What a fool Anton was. He was as lost at finding the real power behind the city’s troubles as I was, so now he looked for excuses.

  Well, that did it. Even with my emerging power, it‘d now be a needless risk to walk Loyalist streets - unless I had a definite location for my family. He’d confined me to Newbank, as the districts of the new saints were already unsafe for me. I thought about it for a moment; in truth, with the growing number of people moving between Newbank and the city, I wasn’t even safe here.

  I sighed.

  Sef asked, “Are you alright?”

  “Compared to Ossard, I’m fine.”

  He gave me a weak smile.

  I said, “I want to see Kurgar.”

  “We should wait until morning.”

  He was right, but how many more mornings did the city have? “I suppose it can wait. Sorry Sef, I’m exhausted and not thinking clearly. I must get something to eat and some sleep.”

  He nodded. “What do you want to see him for?”

  “I should share what Felmaradis has told me.”

  “He’ll laugh at you, as any Flet would - taking advice from a Lae Velsanan.”

  “Would you?”

  Instead of answering, he said, “You’d be better off asking Kurgar for protection, for a secure place to stay. This house is too open and well known.”

  “I’d not thought about it.” And I hadn’t.

  “You know, Kurgar has authority over the Guild’s buildings and also owns several himself. He even has an unused tower, its five levels high and defendable.”

  “A tower?”

  “It’s in the middle of Newbank’s slums, it was part of the old city wall.”

  I still felt safe with Sef, like a child in the arms of its father. “I think I’m alright here, there are scores of people downstairs.”

  “Juvela, it’s not just the Inquisitor’s declaration you need worry about, remember you carry a divine mark.”

  As if I could forget.

  “I’ll think about it. Perhaps it is a good idea.”

  He turned for the door. “I’ll have some supper sent up and then you should rest.”

  “Yes, thanks, Sef.”

  He left, closing the door behind him.

  I turned back to look out upon a city dotted with fires and haunted by the rising tones of Schoperde’s long and sad song. While it wasn’t being sung as strongly as it had been in earlier days, it still rose to be heard.

  Food came quickly. I was so tired that I barely remembered eating it before lying down. In my bed I embraced a pillow while thinking of Pedro and then all but passed out.

  I rose early to use the celestial to search the opposite shore for the souls of my family. I stayed there standing on the balcony in the crisp grey before dawn. My perception wandered every street, every alley, and even drifted through the sewers.

  I didn’t find them.

  When Sef came I’d been crying for a good while, so long in fact that my eyes glared red-rimmed and sore. He didn’t have to ask why.

  I said, “Could they’ve been taken out of Ossard?”

  “No, they’re here. They need to be for the ritual.”

  I wiped at my tears. “Of course.”

  He nodded. “We’ll find them, it’s not too late. They’ll be shielded by magic, something strong that they can’t be seen through.”

  “You’re right.”

&n
bsp; He offered a smile. “I know this hurts and that you suffer, but remember there are always others who’ve endured more.”

  “Like poor Marco.”

  “Yes, and Baruna, they’ve both had to walk hard roads.”

  He was right. In comparison I was lucky, at least for my loved ones there was still hope. And that thought sparked another. “And you, Sef, what of you? I know you’ve suffered in the past, but you’ve never spoken of it.”

  He paled, seeing me regret my prying.

  “I’m sorry, you needn’t speak of it.”

  He shook his head. “No, I know I needn’t, but I will.” And he paused as he gathered himself, “I was a priest of Kave tending to the needs of his warriors where the lakelands, forests, and plains meet. It was a calling I’d not looked for, but earned after the siege of my home village.

  “I grew up there, a small place called Kaumhurst. I’d been a farmer and carpenter, and even married…”

  “Married!”

  He smiled at my surprise. “With a daughter as well.”

  And in an instant, the hardness of the man I knew melted.

  “In Fletland it’s everyone’s duty to defend their village from raiders and bandits through service to their local militia. It was the only time I handled weapons, something I’d never felt comfortable with.

  “One day Kaumhurst was besieged. They’d been seen coming through the dark before dawn, a gang of brigands crossing our fields. They were brazen, carrying torches and their battle colours high, some of them were even singing and blowing on field horns. By the time they arrived our village was roused and ready behind our stockade, and then began the strangest siege I’ve ever heard of.

  “It started as a standoff, with them making little in the way of demands. On occasion they’d call out insults and fire off arrows. We had enough food and water so we were content to wait. To be honest, we were bemused about the way they’d gone about it: They drank as they sat about a bonfire, singing through each night, they seemed more intent on enjoying themselves. It was the strangest thing we’d seen, and not the kind of raid any of us had ever heard of.

  “Others came to join them - and that was the only thing that worried us. Their numbers grew from two dozen to four score before…” and then his words trailed away.

  I said, “You don’t have to go on, Sef, I can see your pain.” And I could imagine the outcome; of a final battle and the death of his family.

  He shook his head. “I’m alright, and I’ll finish what I’ve begun.

  “As you can imagine, we were getting more anxious as their numbers grew - and them more foolhardy. They taunted us by firing arrows, building greater bonfires, and holding nightlong feasts that served up our own livestock.

  “Then came a long day of argument that divided the village as our patience ran out. We couldn’t agree on action, yet it would only take one more incident to make blood flow. Sure enough, the fools gave it to us: That dusk the bandits took flaming brands from their bonfires and began torching our fields.

  “We let two bands of archers out to catch our foes by surprise. Still, they’d come for a fight, so after some success we were forced back to our stockade and back inside.

  “It was a tense night, one that dragged on only to be broken by taunts. It also seemed that their numbers still grew, for we saw two more groups marked by torchlight crossing our smouldering fields. Lost in the dark of night and drifts of eye-watering smoke it was hard to follow all that went on, but one thing I couldn’t miss was my wife, Anja, hit by an arrow.

  “It was just a soft thud and then her ragged gasp. She fell to her knees, and so did I as I took her into my arms. She was in a bad way with too much blood running from her chest. I was scared. I just knew that she was going to die.

  “My mother came forward, cradling our infant daughter, and all the while Anja knelt there, held by me, trying to take her last breath.

  “Horns sounded and the cries of bandits. Someone yelled a warning from the top of the stockade as flaming arrows began to rain down to land in dirt, thatched roofs, and flesh. Fires sprang up to throw everything into a ruddy light, including my beloved’s ruin.

  “There and then I knew my family and home were doomed, but I wouldn’t have it. I stood and roared my grief, vowing to give my soul and service to Kave if he’d bless me with the strength to save all that I held dear.

  “Like a falling star, something hit me, aglow and full of power. It landed with so much force that it blasted the nearest part of the stockade apart. I emerged enraged and by Kave’s blessing berserk.” Sef shook his head in disgust.

  “I awoke surrounded by countless bandits dead and covered in blood and gore. The scene was lit in amber, tinted by smoke and the rising sun of the new day. As I’d offered, I’d saved the village and my loved ones, and all for the cost of my soul.

  “I was hailed a hero, a true man of Kave, and held in such esteem that I became his priest to serve the local Kavist patrols. And in all this I served the interests of everybody but myself.”

  His words made me wonder; how could such a thing happen? The giving of yourself to one you didn’t hold faith in?

  He nodded at my unspoken question, something I suspected he’d asked himself time and time again. “It didn’t matter because it all came to nought. That strange gathering of brigands happened once more a year and a day later. They again taunted the village, but this time when they began their attack they made sure that they laid waste to everything.” He looked me in the eye, his gaze cold and hard. “My village, mother, wife and our daughter are all gone and dead. I survived because they wanted to leave me to suffer. That was their revenge, not just the deaths of those I loved, but for me to survive them.

  “I was so angry with Kave for allowing such a thing that I walked away from my duties and sought the peace of Ossard. I’ve barely served him since, and in truth there’s still a reckoning to come between us.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  He laughed at my silence. “Not your average tale, it’s true. And that’s the short version. Maybe I’ll tell you more of it when we’re sitting about a fire in Marco’s ruins.”

  I remained silent.

  He joked, “Come now, so I’m not on speaking terms with my god, worse things can happen.”

  Finally, I said, “I had no idea you harboured such pain.”

  He stilled his laughter, giving me a quick nod of thanks. “That’s all for now, that’s what happened, but now we need to worry about today.”

  It was my turn to nod.

  He asked, “Do you still want to go and tell Kurgar about your chat with the Lae Velsanan, this Felmaradis?”

  “Yes, perhaps he’ll laugh at me, but he should know in any case.”

  “And what about your people downstairs? They can’t all go, and I doubt they’d even let the Heletians amongst them in.”

  “Marco and Baruna can come with us, the others will have to stay.” I paused, considering. “Perhaps we should take a few more just for appearances.”

  “Appearances?”

  “If we take two more, Flets, it might put any fears about Marco and Baruna to rest.”

  Sef offered, “Perhaps, but we could just leave them all behind and be done with it.”

  “True, but maybe it’s not a bad idea to give the Guild a sense of what’s happening here. It might help add weight to my opinion.”

  “Alright, but who?”

  “I don’t know. Marco and Baruna will be familiar with some, they can pick two.”

  “I’ll go down and get them organised. That’ll give you a moment to get ready.”

  After changing and soothing my red eyes with cool water, I made my way downstairs. It was crowded, more so than the night before, the kitchen bustling as it served up a porridge breakfast. Sef greeted me at the bottom of the steps and grinned at my surprise. Simply, I asked, “How many?”

  “Enough, the courtyard is full so they now gather in the street.”

  My smil
e dropped, replaced by an embarrassed blush. “The street?”

  He nodded. “You should look, but compose yourself.”

  “Tell me, how many?”

  “I think we’ve a hundred in the house and maybe that again in the courtyard and stable…”

  “Stop it, Sef, how many?”

  “And well over a hundred in the street, perhaps closer to two. They just keep coming, but ask for nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Well, nothing but to see you.”

  “What?”

  “They’re looking for the lady who saved so many in the square. They’re calling you their Lady of Hope, and the rose that blooms from Ossard’s despair.” He paused, “They gain comfort in just being here.” His voice softened, “We all do.”

  I turned from him to see the people in my home continue their bustle, yet slow and look my way. Standing in the shadows at the base of the stairs my blush only deepened. It was hard to believe.

  So much was changing…

  Despite my awkwardness I smiled, a small thing that grew. Those around me took it as my acceptance of them, and from it their own smiles were sown. The air tingled with their relief. Strangely, their feelings gave me succour, it coming to me as a rising high.

  After a long moment of basking in that feeling it began to fade. It took me a while, but I soon realised that it wasn’t because they tired of me; I’d just grown used to it. I needed something stronger to attain the same feeling.

  I needed more of them!

  One taste of their gifted power - their faith - and I was hooked. I could now understand why the gods thirsted for being followed: It wasn’t about ego, morals, or even perhaps power for power’s sake, it was for the high built of the elation it generated.

  It also explained why they hungered for Ossard’s chaos and the soul harvest it promised. If something as simple as faith gave the gods a rush, what would the consumption of a soul feel like? What about a dozen, or a hundred, or even a thousand? I shuddered.

  Were the gods addicted to it?

  Of course they were!

  In a hoarse voice I said, “Take me, I need to see them.”

  Sef nodded, but my hungry tone aroused his concern.