The Ossard Series (Books 1-3): The Fall of Ossard, Ossard's Hope, and Ossard's Shadow.

by Colin Taber

  Louis sighed, reaching for a goblet of watered wine. He took a generous mouthful before continuing on, “Perhaps we should not be so surprised, magic does seem to leak from their fingertips.”

  “It’s astounding!”

  “Forget it, it doesn’t matter, the real issue is the letter’s contents.”

  “They must know that we’d never let them take Ossard, nor any of the territory held by the surviving Heletian League States?”

  “I’m sure they do.”

  “So, indirectly, they’re inviting war?”

  “Perhaps, but that has always been likely.”

  “If the Heletian League and Lae Wair-Rae go for each other, the seas between will turn red!”

  Sef stopped his eating, his appetite gone.

  Louis answered, “Yes, when it comes it will be quite a battle. Some say it is the time foretold; when Saint Baimio will return to lead us.”

  Anton couldn’t help but shake his head, his mind filling with the burdens of a world seemingly determined to die.

  “It goes further.”

  “How so?”

  “This Forwao hasn’t just sent his letter, he’s said that he will arrive in the Holy City to see King Giovanni on the first day of spring after we fail to retake fallen Ossard.”

  “So, what is being done?”

  “Much of the Black Fleet has been sent in force, though the ships I have come with had already been dispatched to check on you. The rest, I believe, should be here quite soon. The Sankto Glavos are also coming, but over land, and have been sent by Cardinal Vincenzo’s direct decree.”

  “The very head of the Inquisition; how many has he sent?”

  “One hundred from the Holy City who will travel up the Sidian Valley collecting more than two hundred on their way. They will meet with another hundred at Saint Augustine, and then be ready to head north for the final leg of their campaign. By the time they reach Ossard and are reunited with their brothers amongst the ships of the Black Fleet, there will be five hundred of them.”

  Anton said, “They will need more.”

  Louis’ eyes went wide. “Did you hear me? Five hundred, that’s over two thirds of our warrior priests!”

  “And what else?”

  Louis licked his lips and said, “They will come with one hundred inquisitors, and will join with us, the fifty inquisitors who are caveat holders to the Black Fleet.”

  “And?”

  “And there’ll be soldiers on foot who are being rallied at Saint Augustine, and inducements for knights from the nobility.”

  “Inducements?”

  “The pardoning of debts and granting of salvation to the heads of all noble houses who send half of their sons.”

  Anton slowly shook his head.

  Louis shifted, discomfited. “What is it, Anton? You’ve been there, why do you disregard the force we rally?”

  “This is not a battle for knights.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The cultists don’t have a single knight amongst their ranks. They’ll not come out to meet the force we send in open battle or follow any gentlemanly rules.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “They’ll strive to kill us as quickly and as surely as they can.”

  “And so will our knights; wielding their blessed steel, while using their deep faith as the sturdiest of shields.”

  “In the time it takes them to mount their horses, unsheath their swords and mumble a prayer, their doom will come to impale them like an angel-thrown lance. It’ll hit them more surely than the noon sun of a midsummer’s day. They’ll perish.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they’ll not be fighting one on one. The entire city is the enemy, and all the skill in the world can’t save you from such numbers who’re also strong in cult magic.”

  “There must be some within the city not given over to the cults?”

  “Maybe some, but the vast majority are part of it.”

  “How can this be? Surely it’s just ringleaders and charlatans who have taken advantage of a disgruntled citizenry?”

  “Many of the Loyalists have already left the city.”

  “And where are they to be found?”

  “I believe they’re scattered across the vales of the Northcountry. A good portion of another people, those who wanted nothing more to do with the chaos, left through the Newbank gate and are camped in the ruins found up at the end of this sound.”

  “The Newbank Gate? Are they Flets?”

  “About half their numbers are, so I’ve been told.”

  “You term them another people, but not Loyalists. Are they heretics too?”

  Sef glanced at Anton, a look not missed by Louis.

  “I don’t know.”

  Louis shook his head, “We’ve always known the Northcountry was a problem. I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised that it’s come to this.”

  Anton sighed. “The cultists were very well organised. They’d already set a beacon before I arrived – and now it’s sanctified.”

  “Oh, it’s not your fault. The strongest amongst us have already perused the celestial barriers and tested them. They say they’re solid.”

  “Is there anything else I should know?”

  “Yes, I suppose, but how should I say such a thing...”

  “What?”

  “The Cabal of Mages has reared its ugly head.”

  “I knew that they were in league with the cultists, at least in the beginning.”

  Louis asked, “Really?”

  “Are you surprised?”

  “No, but it confirms what they’ve told us; that they’ve changed sides.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “A delegation from the Cabal appeared directly before the heads of our order, church and league. They prostrated themselves outside the Citadel as the campaign’s expeditionary force assembled at dawn before leaving. The cabalists said that they’d come to give back that which had been lost so long ago to aid our cause. To help make amends.”

  “What?”

  “The Sword of Saint Baimio; Des Furio.”

  Anton’s eyes widened with surprise.

  “They say it gleamed like molten silver when it was presented to King Giovanni as the sun rose over the Citadel, bathing the Holy City in golden light.”

  “By Krienta!”

  “It’s being escorted here by the Sankto Glavos expedition, to be passed on to Inquisitor Baltimora to wield.”

  “Inquisitor Baltimora; he’ll be pleased to bear such a test of faith.”

  Louis nodded. “Indeed, and he should arrive soon enough himself by way of the Black Fleet. All this was set in motion half a season ago.”

  “What’s the plan upon their arrival?”

  Louis smiled, a dark and grim thing. “You know as well as I; they will lay waste to the city and any who stand in our way. The city can be rebuilt and even re-peopled – after we’ve burnt away all traces of damnation.”

  Anton turned to Sef. “It’s a harsh judgement, but needed.”

  Sef whispered, “Thanks be to Krienta!”

  Chapter 15

  -

  Loyalist Plans

  -

  They came and found me at the heartwood, a place that drew me to it like little else had before. I felt enlightened to be there, my burdens shared, and my slumbering hunger further quietened. Not only did I gain all that soothing at the heartwood, but I also felt closer to what remained of Life – even if it was just memories.

  Oh, Schoperde, my lost divine mother!

  It was Baruna who spoke, though Kurt was by her side, “A ship has come, a black ship. It’s moored just out in the sound and is towing a small boat. We think they may come ashore.”

  “I know,” I said, my smile growing. “I also know who’s coming.”

  Baruna’s concern fell away, overwhelmed by her own smile, something sown by my own. “It’s Sef!”

  “Yes, it is, but he’s not alone. He’s made a c
lose friend during his imprisonment and escape. We need to make them both welcome despite the fear that they’ll bring with them.”

  “Any friend of Sef’s will be welcomed!”

  “Baruna, you must warn people – if it’s not already too late – and then bring them here.”

  “Warn them of what?”

  “Warn them that Sef’s friend has changed, and for the better.”

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Anton the Inquisitor.”

  Her eyes widened with surprise.

  -

  I was sitting on one of the big slabs of stone that surrounded the heartwood’s mother tree when they arrived. I’d spent most of the time in between pacing, eager to see Sef and this strange, reborn Anton.

  Sef walked forward into the clearing as I stood, Anton behind him a step. Both of them were in fresh clothes – for Anton that meant a new set of inquisitorial blacks – but their faces and frames showed all the wear and wastage of their imprisonment.

  I went forward as Sef’s stride quickened, and then, in a moment of laughter, I was again a little girl running to be taken into his arms with my feet leaving the ground as he spun me about. In that reunion the air snapped as celestial energy passed between us, as the mark I’d laid upon him renewed itself.

  “Juvela, I never thought I’d see you again!”

  “But here you are!”

  “Only because of you and your healing.”

  “Perhaps, but also because of your friend.”

  And he laughed and nodded as he put me down.

  We stepped back from each other, but still held hands, neither of us willing to let the other go. I then turned to Anton who stood at the head of a growing crowd, one that kept their distance from him and his enshrouding black robes.

  “Anton, it’s also good to see you.”

  He fell into a respectful bow. “Only through your grace.”

  Surprise sounded from the crowd behind him.

  I looked into his eyes and saw a changed man. “You’re welcome.”

  He smiled with relief. “I’m here to serve you – if you’ll have me?”

  I nodded, warmed by his offer.

  Sef said, “How strange that fate should have me thrown into a dark cell with an inquisitor as my only company. If there’d been a lamp and I’d seen his face, I think I’d have throttled him long before we spoke. Instead, we’ve become dear friends and one that I vouch for. We’ve shared trials, visions, imprisonment and escape. He’d give his life for me as surely as I would for him. We’re brothers.”

  I nodded, for I knew the depth of their bond. “Be at ease, both of you. No one will send Anton away, though perhaps we’re lucky that Silva isn’t here to see you join us just now.”

  “Silva Liberigo lives?” asked Anton.

  “Yes, and Angela too. Silva is actually on the road, riding back towards Ossard to meet Sef should you’ve chosen to come that way. He’s with others who’ll also gather news of what’s happening out there.”

  “I might yet miss him, for I shouldn’t stay. I’ll be of more use to you if I return to the Black Fleet to see what they plan on doing now that they’ve arrived. I’ve already had a morning with a colleague I long ago trained beside, one who’s been too free with his tongue. Such information will be of use to you.”

  “They’ll take you back?”

  He looked to Sef. “In the long run only to punish me. But for now, they’re desperate for news of what’s been happening. So far they’re ignorant of my own fall from Krienta’s grace, but that won’t last. When more able inquisitors arrive I may have trouble, but until then I think I’ll be free to come and go as long as it works in their interests.”

  “And their interests?”

  “At the moment; assessing the scale of Ossard’s fall. For now I’d think that your people are safe from them, but the Black Fleet may yet come to seek help.”

  “Help?”

  “Information and provisions, perhaps even labour, though mostly they’ll leave you to yourselves as they know the real enemy is the newly arisen city-state. They’ll not look for others, not yet.”

  “Even though we’re also heretics?”

  “Perhaps I could leave them unsure as to your status? The city is a greater threat and one that has wounded their pride. It requires righting before anything else. It’s urgent. I could make Marco’s Ruin at best a mystery and at worse the lesser of two evils?”

  “An evil?” I asked, intrigued.

  “The Black Fleet will hear about this ruin from Loyalist refugees soon enough. They’ll say that it’s ruled over by a Witch-Queen.”

  “A Witch-Queen?” I said with some surprise.

  “That’s what they’ll call you – or do you forget my background?”

  “How could I?” I smiled at his honesty. “Let me think about what I want you to tell them.” And added, “Whatever happened to you?”

  “To make me change? Too many things and not many of them gentle or good.”

  “People will want to know if they can trust you.”

  “And so they should. I’ll do whatever I can to prove myself.”

  “And for now?”

  “For now, you should show my good friend Sef and myself around your home before I return to my former order aboard the Sidian. They and their agents will have been busy gathering knowledge on the happenings from across the North. Of course, you should also be concerned that once they’ve dealt with the city – if they can – that they’ll then turn their attention here.”

  “Thank you for your honesty, Anton.”

  The heartwood was still filling with people who’d come to see for themselves if the rumour of who’d been invited in was true. On the faces at the front I could see relief – seemingly Anton had won a chance to prove himself.

  That was until another voice spoke up, “What’s he doing here?” It was Grenda. “And in the heartwood of all places!”

  I turned to see her striding forward, red-faced with anger.

  I stepped up. “Grenda, Anton’s left the Inquisition.”

  “After he drove me from the city twenty years ago, burnt your grandmother at the stake, and let your own family be taken by cultists? I don’t think so!”

  Anton looked to Grenda, taken aback by her raw fury. Yet, slowly, a look of understanding came to him. “Grenda? Iris Grenbanden of Newbank?”

  She stepped forward and slapped his face, the blow hard and ringing. “That would be me!”

  He flinched, but otherwise didn’t move. After a moment, he said, “Iris Grenbanden, the last priest of Schoperde to walk Ossard’s streets?”

  “Yes!”

  “By all the gods, I’m so sorry for the misery I brought you!”

  “You should be!”

  “You’re right that I’ve delivered hardship to you and others. I ask you; what can I do to make things right?”

  She just stared at him, her eyes boiling with rage.

  “I’ll do whatever I can; I’ll burn these robes and not return to the Black Fleet. If you wish it, I’ll even dig my own grave and then work to bury myself.”

  Sef looked to me, waiting for me to intervene.

  Grenda spat at his feet and then slapped him hard again.

  He just stood there and took it.

  She growled, “You’ve been a servant of Death, amongst his princes, and like a general to his troops. Your own hands are bloody enough, but it’s the blood on so many other hands, blood that you ordered drawn, that demands I speak. If you’ve changed, I want you to swear that you’ll never spill blood again, not in war, peace or even in your own defence.”

  Sef stepped forward, “He comes as a friend!”

  Grenda snapped, “As a friend from the bloody house of Death!”

  Anton put a hand out to still Sef, while he lifted his other to his heart. “I swear all that you ask: There’s no life left to me outside of here. If you’ll not have me, I’m already dead. I can only say that I’m gladdened to have had my
eyes opened to the truth, but that I also wish to undo some of the damage I’ve done.”

  Grenda’s anger began to subside, something that relieved Sef.

  I spoke into the silence, “We’ll let Anton prove himself: He can start by talking of what’s been revealed to him aboard the Sidian, for he said that the inquisitor there has been too free with his tongue.”

  We listened as Anton began telling us what he knew.

  As we stood there, I also studied the sapling mother tree: Since its shooting, its eager growth had already seen it rise to be three paces tall. At such a rate, I didn’t doubt that it’d soon have ten times that height, with a girth that’d force apart the ancient dead wood that encircled it.

  It was fighting to re-establish itself, not just living on hope.

  Chapter 16

  -

  A Sad Parting

  -

  In the afternoon, Anton returned to the Sidian while Sef stayed behind. To see the two of them parted after all they’d gone through made me realise afresh how deep their bond had grown. Anton, normally a man of grim strength and cold smarts, revealed a side I’d thought never to see; of a man falling to his long suppressed emotions. He was a picture of glum loneliness as they were parted.

  Sef, likewise, was unhappy with the plan, but it had to be done. If Anton did not return to the Sidian it would raise suspicions. His allegiance would eventually be questioned in any case, but hopefully not for a while, not before we could gather some much needed news.

  The two men embraced before my inner circle, patting each other on the back before finally breaking apart. Both uttered quiet words to each other with hoarse voices, of taking care, of keeping well, and of looking forward to being reunited.

  Anton was returning to a world he knew all too well, even if now he reviled its truths. He’d play his role there for as long as it was safe, coming and going between us as he gathered information.

  Sef though, my poor Sef...

  Sef had returned to us seeking the only freedom he could, yet it delivered him into a new world that’d been built to stand without him. Marco’s Ruin was a place of peace and safety, a place of shelter and warmth. Here there was no need for a bodyguard for little Maria.