by Colin Taber
“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.
Had the city fallen too far?
Yes it had, and I had to accept it.
It was time to return to Newbank.
Part III
-
Ossard, The Nest
21
-
Newbank Celebrates
-
I shepherded Baruna, Marco, and the others across the meandering waters of the river. It was surprisingly easy. I offered to vouch for the Heletians amongst them, but the Flet ferrymen were happy enough to take them – for a fee. To get them across took a while as their numbers had again grown. By the time we’d finished it was dark, but at least we were home.
We returned to find the district celebrating. The streets about the river were busy with people, many dancing, laughing, and drinking by the flaring and ruddy light of the city-side fires. People cheered the blazes as they did each departing boatload of warriors crossing to join the fight.
It was sickening.
These weren't my people, not those who could revel in such misery and death. I turned my back on them in shame only to find myself facing Baruna, Marco, and the others.
I realised that these were my people. They were the ones seeking peace, not the blood-lusting fanatics and opportunists fighting over the ruins of Market Square, or the cruel people behind me who claimed loyalty through a coincidence of common heritage. My people stood before me; those loyal to life for its own miraculous sake.
Baruna asked, “What of your family?”
While I'd not found any trace of Maria and Pedro, the day’s events had left me exhausted. I needed to rest.
I looked to those gathered, and for the first time I saw them in both this world and the next. They shone before me, their pure souls flaring, all good people caught in a tainted and dying place. About us raged flames, hate, and madness, yet between us nested hope.
An unusual green light sparkled within them, almost hidden away in the depths of their souls. I noticed it also shone out from my own, pulsing like a heartbeat. Seeing it in the dark void of the celestial, a place normally disturbed only by blues, violets, and life-lights of white, made me realise how unique we were.
We did have a link, a common purpose...
I smiled. “We have to get you settled, all of you.”
Their faces lit up, and to my surprise I realised that many of them were also confused as to why they followed me.
I continued, “We’ll go to my home where there’ll be room for all, though it will be cramped. Once there we can prepare for what comes next.”
Relief flooded their faces. They were glad to have direction amidst Ossard’s chaos. Beside me, Baruna and Marco grinned.
A young man called out, “Please my Lady, what does come next?”
It was a good question, and left me only too aware of their eyes upon me. I began unsure of what to say, but with an intention of only sharing the truth. “I won’t give you false comfort, for the upheaval about us is only the first flicker of the flames to come. Doom is approaching; the very fall of Ossard. You can either join the madness or turn from it. The fall’s hunger for power and death surrounds us, but what of peace and life? That’s what I seek. If Ossard
can’t host them then the city is twice damned and I’ll leave.”
He asked, “Where will we go?”
“There is a place where we’ll find sanctuary, and from there we’ll look for an opportunity to stop our home’s final fall.”
Hope sparkled in their eyes and smiles settled on their faces. They were reassured, and with that reassurance came a strengthening of their feelings towards me: They had faith.
Two thirds of those following me were Heletian, seeing me wonder if they’d be safe in Newbank when it spread so aroused. I hoped so. “Please follow close, we’ll talk more when we reach home.”
They nodded and left me to lead the way.
-
We got to my home to find it secure and quiet. I unlocked the door and led them in, directing them through to the courtyard; it was the only place I'd be able to talk to all of them when gathered. I hadn't counted, but I guessed that they now numbered about two score or more.
A voice exclaimed from the kitchen, “What's all this?” It was Sef.
I laughed as I got Baruna to lead on the others, telling her, “Kurt’s in the stables, tell him you’re my guests.” I rushed into the kitchen to find Sef standing over the cooking fire where he tended a stew.
He smiled, but gestured to the parade of silhouettes passing behind me. “What's going on?”
“They followed me.”
“What do you mean?”
“It started at the square.”
“One of them was with you at the opera house?”
“Yes, Baruna. I've asked nothing of them, and they just want to follow me – ever since my casting.”
“Yes, the casting...” he sounded troubled.
“What's wrong?”
“Didn't you sense it?”
“Sense what?”
“The strangeness of the casting, of the blessing Schoperde gave you?”
“I don't know what you mean?” But my doubts began to stir.
“Well...” he began, but his voice faded as he looked over my shoulder.
I turned to find Marco.
He said, “They're gathered.”
“I'll be out soon.”
He left, so I turned back to Sef. “What?”
The Kavist stepped forward and placed his hands on my shoulders as he met my gaze. “Juvela, for a while you thought you were to be a witch like your grandmother, today you thought you were a daughter of Schoperde, but now I suggest that you are in fact something else.”
I began shaking my head from side to side as I stepped back and pushed his hands away. “Sef, I am of Schoperde. I handled her blessings. I know that I've never known a lot of her or been particularly devout, but today I felt her grace!”
“Juvela, I don't doubt you felt something. She’s a god, the god of life, and the one who also oversees the birth of new deities.”
I tensed as my apprehension grew. “What are you saying?”
His eyes sparkled as the big Flet struggled to hold back tears. “Juvela, someone has to shepherd in the new.”
“But I feel a link to her!”
“Juvela, I’m just a mortal priest, but you’re an avatar; the seed of a god yet to be born. You know that and so do I. Your soul is too old, textured, and layered for it to be anything else. It’s strong, so strong that none in this city who'd have reason to harm you prior to your awakening have been able to.”
“But Schoperde gave me the means to save all those people?”
“Your blessing did save many, and it was good and pure, but it wasn’t of Schoperde.”
I shook my head in anger at these new questions and the confusion they brought. “If not of Schoperde, then who?”
“You.”
I was a god?
He went on, “Sweet Juvela, your soul’s awakening. Now and in this life-time you’re going from an avatar to the divine!”
I snapped, “Stop it! I'm sick of this! And in the end what does it matter?”
He dropped to his knees in front of me. “Juvela, think of it: The city is dying, just like cities have died before amidst upheaval and bloody chaos – and from the greatest of those ruins always have arisen new gods.”
I shook my head in disbelief at the connection he was making. “Are you saying that people are dying because of me?”
“No! I'm saying that when cities the size of Ossard, cities rich in souls, fall, that it can uplift avatars to see them awakened into godhood. Who knows how many avatars walk the world, but right now you’re the strongest in Ossard. During the coming soul harvest, when all that gathered power begins overflowing, it’s going to find you.”
I was horrified at the very notion.
He went on, “Look at the Heletians' second god, Saint Baimio...”
I laughed, a harsh sound in my upset. “The Heletians only have one god, Krienta!”
“Yes, they don't call Baimio a god because of their dogma, they call him a saint, but they raise him above all others by naming him the son of Krienta, their creator. Well, once he was mortal. We've heard their Church's tales, and not all of them are lies. He came into his power during the fall of Bar-Mor, the mountain city of the giants.”
Was he comparing me to Saint Baimio? “Sef, this is crazy...”
“And the gargoyle god of Dorloth, she arose from the fall of Quersic Quor of the Lae Velsanan's Second Dominion of Kalraith.”
“Sef, this is too much! Some of what you say makes sense, but linking it to me? I don't want to be a part of it. You're saying that I'm going to profit from the death of the city.”
“I’m not saying you're responsible. I’m just saying that as an avatar all that’s going on in the city might see you awakened.”
“No, it can't be true!”
“Look at the people who’ve followed you here. Look at me!”
“What do you mean?”
“Juvela, I'm a priest of Kave with my soul and service vowed to him, yet here I am serving you! I want to. No, I need to! To be here to help, to see you through this.”
“I don't need your help,” my voice broke as I spoke, disturbed by my surging emotions. Was I having such an effect on people? What a sickening thought, yet the courtyard stood full of proof.
He shook his head, “Juvela, you must understand; myself and those in the courtyard follow you because our souls demand it. Your mere presence has broken our old allegiances and replaced them with something new.”
I was frightened by his words – and that they stank of an uncomfortable truth.
Damn it, what did it matter?
What mattered was that the good people in Ossard survived the coming turmoil – and we had more chance of doing it together. I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. “I’m changed, it’s true, but all I can say is that I’ll try to do the right thing. I’ve heard you, but I don't want to talk about it.”
He nodded and got back to his feet as he gave me a grin.
I hugged him, sensing his love and devotion. Those feelings had been a part of my life for so long. They gave me courage as they flooded me with reassurance. I giggled, for a moment again that little girl who loved his stories of adventure and his bawdy songs.
He chuckled and said, “You should go to them now.”
I nodded and turned for the courtyard. Despite the moment of warmth, it seeped away as quickly as it had come, dragged under by thoughts of a city dying so that I might be a god.
-
They waited in silence, some standing around the edge of the courtyard while others sat on the cobbles. Kurt was amongst them. He gave me a knowing smile and a quick nod.
I walked to the centre of the yard, it ruddily lit by the flaring amber glow reflected from the pall hanging above. Again I hadn't planned what to say, but this wasn’t a time for flowery speeches.
I looked about at their faces, taking confidence in their souls' pure taste. Whatever I might be, at least I knew that these people were good and true. Finally my gaze came to rest on Sef where he stood in a doorway. I said, “I
want to welcome you to my home, though it seems we’ve already outgrown it.”
Some of them laughed.
“I want to speak to you of many things, but one foremost: Of working to keep each other safe in a city falling apart...”
I talked to them for a good while, including some of what Felmaradis had told me in hushed Flet. As I spoke others joined us, shown in by Sef. Where they came from I didn't know, yet their purity also shone through.
It was the beginning of something; it was undeniable.
There was good left in the city, maybe not enough to save it, but certainly enough worth saving.
-
I spent the next part of the evening organising the household to cope with so many guests. The arrangements were temporary and we all knew it. One way or another we wouldn't be here in a few more nights, for in time Newbank would also be consumed by the fighting.
Before long bedrooms became dormitories, along with storerooms, and much of the living space. The kitchen bustled with the making of bread and the stewing of broth to serve close to a hundred. The cellar was emptied and aired, and then prepared as a serving space for meals. Only the stables remained free on the far side of the courtyard. If I had to, I’d give them over for more sleeping space, but for now I planned to use them as a store for what we gathered for our escape.
Amongst all this activity I watched two Heletians struggle to lift a heavy chest; one stumbled as they carried it, seeing them drop it after only a few steps. It fell to the wooden floor with a great crash to leave a gouge across the boards. Mortified, the men cried out.
I forced a smile and told them not to worry. Inwardly I shuddered as I thought of what Pedro would’ve said. Still, my husband’s biggest stir wouldn’t come of scratches on the floor or from scores of strange guests; it would be because of the changes wrought in me, and my unexpected fate.
People settled in as best they could as I retreated to the only sanctuary that remained, my bedroom. I asked for Baruna, Marco, and Sef to join me. There was still much to discuss.
As we gathered, I said, “Please sit.” And gestured to the bed.