by Colin Taber
He smiled as his tears stopped, and then he whispered, “Thank you for your blessing.”
I stood back trying to ignore the reverence in his eyes, but it was a look shared by Baruna and Sef.
This was too much...
Looking for a distraction, I grabbed at the first thing to come to mind. “Thanks for sharing your story, Marco.”
He gave a grateful nod.
“We’ve all suffered, it’s true, and we need to protect ourselves and any who join us from the coming chaos and perhaps even the rise of plague. I also need to find Maria and Pedro – I’ll not leave the city without them.”
They agreed.
I went on, “It seems that to be safe from both plague and madness we have to leave Ossard. While that’s unpalatable, it makes the question; where should we go?”
Marco nodded. “The ruins I spoke of.”
And I agreed, “Call it fate or coincidence, but Marco’s ruins have suggested themselves...”
Sef stopped me. “Hang on, we’ve only just heard about them. There are countless abandoned villages and towns across the Northcountry, how can we be certain that this is the best place to go?”
I had no trouble answering him, “Sef, while you were with your Kavist brethren this afternoon, I saw the Lae Velsanan officer again in port. His name is Felmaradis Jenn, and he spoke of what sounds to be the same ruin. It’s too much of a coincidence. If Marco thinks it’s a good place to shelter then I’d be prepared to go and have a look, but having also agreed to meet Felmaradis there a season from now seals it.”
“Can you trust him?” Sef asked.
What he meant was; have you forgotten that he’s Lae Velsanan?
“I trust him. He’s good-souled if complicated, and in truth a mystery.”
“How so?”
“He’s comfortable with me and Flets in general. At one point he even spoke in fluent Flet.”
Sef raised an eyebrow. “He is a mystery then, unless he learnt it on some sprawling estate from a downtrodden slave.”
“Sef, he was fluent and without accent. He’s a natural. That’s not the hallmark of someone who’s learnt a language just to order about slaves. If you want me to accept one thing, then I ask you to accept another. There’s something about him, something honest and powerful, and he says he’ll return to the ruins in a season to help.”
Sef nodded, and while he was intrigued, an air of reluctance haunted him.
Marco said, “It’s been years since I travelled those roads, but they were good enough back then. In fair weather it was a day’s walk up the Cassaro, then a day’s zigzagging climb up the valley-slopes and over into the neighbouring sound, and from there a day east along the sound’s shore, and then you follow it round for half a day.”
Sef asked, “Three and a half days?”
Marco nodded. “By foot.”
“And food?” I asked, “How do we feed a couple of dozen when we’re fleeing a doomed city?”
Sef said, “Juvela, it's not that we shouldn't plan and work towards it, but we will be able to feed them. We take what we can, mainly grains and root vegetables, foods that will keep. We’ll also take some seed and livestock and buy more from the farming hamlets along the way.” And then he smiled.
And gave me comfort.
He was right. It would work out, and not because we left it to fate, but because we’d look for opportunities along the way. We’d settle ourselves down and wait for Felmaradis, and in the meantime we’d make the most of whatever presented itself.
The city was doomed and we all knew it, if not by strife, then by cult ritual, or rising plague. We needed to get out.
“Well, let's get organised. Let's talk to some of the Flets downstairs who know Newbank well enough to round up some carts and food. We'll also need water, blankets, and so much more. We have to be able to move, and quickly.”
They agreed and left me.
From the celestial, I could hear my grandmother stir, a mournful sound. I slipped between worlds. “What's wrong?”
She stood there, her eyes lit by the flames that had claimed her, and thankfully naked of her halo of skulls. “Such sad stories.”
I nodded, almost overcome by a rising sense of grief.
Why did the world have to be such a hard place?
I said, “It's terrible what they’ve gone through, and poor Marco so recently bereaved.”
She answered, “Yes, poor Atalia. At least she knew that he loved her and never harboured any doubts. Even their daughter, unborn and unnamed, knew of their love for each other.”
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 F
elmaradis 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.”
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 fi
elds. 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.