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

by Colin Taber

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Pedro, I didn’t save you and your father from the fires of Ossard just to feed you back to the city’s flames.”

  He stood in silence for a moment, considering his response. “Your witchery is failing?”

  And what a truth it was, but I dared not admit it, not to someone who might inadvertently pass such information on to the Inquisition.

  “To go now and fight is too great a risk. Your allies cannot be trusted, just as they’re unprepared for what they’ll face.”

  “Damn it, Juvela! You need to help!”

  “I can’t.”

  “Or won’t!”

  Silence was my answer.

  “Do it for your own people!”

  “Pedro, what I can do for my people is to keep them safe until the real chance comes.”

  “You mean with the Lae Velsanans?”

  “Yes,” but my answer lacked conviction, coming out as little more than a whisper.

  “So, you won’t fight alongside your own kind, but instead wait for the arrogants who declare themselves the Highest Race of Man?”

  “You know as well as I that with their power they’ll win.”

  “All the more reason for us to take back the city now, before they grab it. You need to be a part of this!”

  I couldn’t deny that he held a kind of logic there: What would life be like under the rule of the Lae Velsanans, or would they refuse to let us return? Felmaradis might be someone I trusted, but he wasn’t the Dominion’s highest authority.

  Yet, what choice did I have? Ossard wouldn’t welcome me now, neither would the Inquisition, even if they could win the city back. At least with the Lae Velsanans there might be a chance.

  A chance for more heartache...

  Looking to me he glared. “There’s nothing for us here in the ruin, not in the long run, just as there’ll be nothing for us here if the Dominion takes Ossard.”

  “You might be right, but with your way it’s a certainty.”

  On hearing my answer, he cursed and grabbed up his sack and left.

  I got up to follow, calling out, “Pedro!”

  But his steps were firm. Over his shoulder, he snapped, “Don’t follow me!”

  -

  In the morning, I left Maria with my parents and sought out Grenda to share my thoughts and fears. I found her in the first canyon where she was talking to a group who’d come to work in the gardens. She took one look at me and then sent them on their way.

  “Juvela, you’re a mess!”

  “It’s been a difficult night.”

  “You don’t mean with your pregnancy, do you?”

  “No, Pedro’s my concern.”

  “I’ve heard enough talk to know that he still plans to go, despite it being common knowledge that you don’t support him.”

  “He’s determined, despite my warnings.”

  Some of our people appeared, rounding a bend in the path, as they came to collect tools.

  Grenda gently took me by the arm and led me away. “Come, let’s talk of this at the mother tree.”

  We walked in silence, something that gave me a chance to gather my thoughts. There were things I had to say, that had to finally be said and not stewed upon any longer.

  Of my addiction and how it’d been calmed, but not by me.

  Of my fear, that left untended, I’d only lose control and resume feeding.

  Of the fact that my dreams came caked in nothing but death and decay.

  Of the fact that no palatable option remained; there was no way to win!

  Pedro might think that with my help he could take Ossard back, but I couldn’t see a path that led to victory. Nothing was clear-cut. Everything, every single option, came mired in shadow, delivering an outcome that was bloody and framed in tragedy.

  When we entered the ring of silver elms I was ready to admit all of my failings and fear – and to take her counsel, whatever it might be. She led me to the great stones that surrounded the mother tree, to where the rosetree stood tall and slender, but beginning to spread. We sat beneath its branches on the nearest stone.

  She said, “Juvela, ask your questions.”

  “I’m so much in the dark, so lost to fear and ignorance. How am I supposed to make the right decisions when I know so little of the world, the celestial, and even myself?”

  “It’s your duty.”

  “Well, the duty has been entrusted to a blind woman!”

  “Juvela, what are your fears?”

  I took a deep breath to calm myself before I began. “I still host the addiction, but it’s mild here as the Prince soothes its ache. That’s all well and good, but I need to know what limits that brings?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If I leave Marco’s Ruin, will the aid cease?”

  She considered the question. “There must be limits.”

  “What would happen if his aid was removed? Would I be struck down by the full force of my depraved hunger?”

  She began to look troubled. “I don’t know.”

  “Grenda, I need answers to such things!”

  She didn’t say anything, but gave a slow nod.

  “For example; if I decided to go and help Pedro and his volunteers, would I lose control of my hunger and bring down doom upon us all?”

  “It’s a good question.”

  “I have others.”

  “Like?”

  “If I might lose control of my hunger by going to Ossard with Pedro, then that must also be the case should I instead wait for Fel and return to the city then. If so, am I actually just a prisoner here, doomed to be lost to soul-feeding as soon as I leave the vale?”

  “I need to talk to the Prince.”

  “Please, Grenda, they’re marching tomorrow!”

  “What other concerns do you have?”

  “What I see in my dreams is nothing of Life, not in the sense that I see us taking back the streets of Ossard and claiming them as a place to live. All I ever see is a city of corpses and fire, and of the people in this ruin also laying still and cold, lost to Death’s sleep. I don’t see any other options. That leaves me wondering if there’re any left?”

  “There’ll be death before the end of all this, but spilt blood can lead to new life. You must have faith in the path set down for you by Schoperde.”

  “By a god long dead?”

  Her jaw set. “Yes.”

  I sighed. “Let’s just look at a little part of this, not of all of us winding up dead and doomed, but of a simple thing.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as my marriage: If I don’t go with Pedro, regardless of whether he lives or dies, my marriage is doomed.”

  She didn’t say anything, but instead nodded.

  “It’s not an option I want to choose.”

  “Sometimes the world can offer up only bitter fruit.”

  “What if I won’t have it?”

  “Then we’re all doomed – and you know it.”

  With a sinking feeling, I could taste nothing but truth.

  “Juvela, leave me, and I’ll seek what answers I can from the Prince. I’ll then call for you.”

  “Before tomorrow, before they leave?”

  She gave me a sad smile. “I’ll try.”

  -

  I returned to find Marco’s Ruin in an uproar. I’d left the tunnel that led from the canyons and found myself on the second terrace facing the back of a large crowd. They lined the balustrade looking down on the lower terrace. As I went across to see what I could, I heard raised voices.

  A lone man yelled, “Cowards!” while others jeered.

  When I arrived, people stepped aside so that I might come to the front and see for myself. And all the while, more insults were growled.

  Below stood Pedro’s volunteers gathered on the lower terrace in both knots and formed groups. Some practised their drills with oleander canes, while others heckled those who looked down upon them from above.

  One
Heletian man bellowed up while he shook a battered sword in the air, “Leo, you said you’d come, that you’d help liberate the city!”

  Others affirmed his claim.

  A man answered from our terrace, “We can’t win. Even if we take back the city, the Inquisition will crush what we’ve begun here!”

  A hundred voices disagreed from below.

  “You’re cowards, those who won’t come and fight!”

  A cheer rippled across the lower terrace.

  This time, another voice rose, a woman’s, “Look at you down there standing with rusted swords and oleander sticks! You think you can take the city and keep it, instead of having to give it up to the Inquisition or the nobles sent by King Giovanni? You’re fools!”

  The people about her called out their agreement.

  Except for those who stood near me – my presence silenced them.

  From beneath, again a voice rose, “You’re cowards, all of you!”

  Another sounded, “There’s nothing here but ghosts and ruin!”

  Then the air chilled.

  A frosting of ice crackled as it sped across the stones of the balustrade fast, fresh and thick. Swirls of mist came to twist about, rising from the suddenly cool stones. And there, under the light of day, in a glaring and angry way, the Prince came amongst us.

  Voices died as quickly as his arrival had stolen away the heat.

  He stood near me, in a gap that grew as people fell back from his brewing rage. His voice boomed to roll out across the terrace, “You have been our guests!”

  The Prince didn’t stand alone, he came accompanied by others of his kind, them materialising around him, their own angry voices chorusing, “Grae ru!” Ominous and armed, a new wave of frost, cracked and snapped to roll out from each of them.

  “Yet some of you show no gratitude!”

  “Grae ru!”

  “But soon the arrogant and ungrateful amongst you will be dead!”

  “Grae ru!”

  “You go to your doom and will not taste the afterlife. You will do nothing more than feed the enemy!”

  “Grae ru!”

  A silence deep and cold then settled.

  After a moment, an answering voice rang out, “We go to do what we must to win Ossard back for Life!” It was Pedro.

  I looked down to see that he’d just emerged from the light-well.

  The Prince, so often silent, wasn’t slow in answering, “You do not go for Life, but revenge. You are throwing yourselves into a furnace!”

  “Grae ru!”

  A chill silence again settled over the crowd.

  Except for Pedro, for he’d found his courage. “We’re grateful for your sanctuary, but we want our home back.”

  “Ossard is not a place for you or Life. It is a grave!”

  “Grae ru.”

  Pedro persisted, “Yet, we must try!”

  “Even if you die in the trying?” asked the Prince.

  “Grae ru.”

  “We have a plan.”

  Without hesitation, the Prince thundered, “It will fail!”

  “Grae ru,” his spectres chorused.

  “You can’t stop us.”

  “If it is your wish, we will not, but we will not tolerate disharmony in our home. Those of you who are intent on fighting must leave. By sunset you will be beyond our walls or you will taste our iron. You may ask others to follow, but if you scold or bully, you will be dealt with.”

  The Prince’s fellows hissed, “Grae ru!”

  Pedro turned and called out, “Volunteers of Marco’s Ruin, we’ll rally outside on the pastures of the valley green. Go gather your gear, for we camp outside tonight and say our farewells. Come dawn we begin our march to victory!”

  After a pause, his volunteers gave a cheer. It started half-hearted, but grew in strength, only fading as they began to move.

  With their departure, those on the high terrace also dispersed.

  The Prince and his fellows watched, but said nothing more. After the terrace cleared, they faded away as mist taken by the breeze.

  -

  That night an encampment spread outside our walls.

  Many from the ruin went there to say goodbye to friends and loved ones who’d be marching at dawn. None of Pedro’s volunteers dared defy the Prince, and so, strangely, amidst the farewells and well wishes, the divisions that had gaped open, suddenly closed.

  I went down to see Pedro, taking Maria with me. In doing that I’d left Baruna in charge of our gate and stores.

  My dusk passage through their camp brought quiet with it, but in my passing I also saw looks of reverence.

  I realised then that they might be Pedro’s volunteers, yet they were still my people. What they were going to do was for a host of reasons, but in their minds, none of them were to work against me. With that realisation, some of my own opinions faltered.

  A couple of Heletian men met me and led me to a tent on a small rise. It was the same spot where we’d sat in counsel with Inquisitor Baltimora, but it now served as Pedro’s campsite.

  He was sitting by a campfire with Silva and others of his command. About them stood three rose banners.

  As I approached he turned and saw me, the serious look on his face falling away to be replaced by a smile. Maria ran across to him, falling into his arms, but his gaze never broke with mine.

  Looking to each other, I realised we’d hardly spoken in any meaningful way, not just for days but perhaps for even weeks. As I considered that, I also realised that the same thought was in his mind.

  What a tragedy our marriage had always been.

  He took his hands from Maria and stood, seeing her wrap her arms about one of his legs. His arms opened to invite me forward, so I stepped forward and into his embrace. “So, I’m to go after being turned out by your dead prince.”

  I answered in a rough whisper, “Pedro, you don’t have to go.”

  He looked to me with sadness in his eyes. “I do, and you know that your coming to see me won’t change that, but I still thank you.”

  “If you go, you’ll be going to your death.”

  “I have to try.”

  “No, Pedro, please...”

  He gave a small shake of his head. “Juvela, have some faith in me.”

  His words gave me pause.

  Faith in him?

  How could I, in a world already bereft of so much good. “Pedro, I have a bad feeling for what’s to come. I can’t believe you’ll succeed, nor that you’ll survive.”

  “I have to try; to right the wrongs that I had a hand in.”

  So, all of this went back to that, to the night we met.

  “Stay for the sake of your daughter and unborn son.”

  “I’ll see them on my return – or when I send for you to come to the liberated city.”

  With a sad smile, I couldn’t help but laugh at his bravado. He was determined, and in this action, for the first time in years, he again stood proudly as a man. I redoubled the embrace and began to weep.

  He returned my desperate warmth with his own passion.

  That night I slept in a tent with my husband in a bed of furs, warmth and love. Before dawn, I awoke to say my goodbyes, along with Maria, before returning heartbroken to the ruin.

  -

  The time came for our volunteers to set out on the road to Goldston, where they would marshal with the rest of the Inquisition’s troop. They broke camp and arrayed themselves outside our walls with Pedro and Silva at their head, standing ready with rose flags flying.

  I couldn’t go down to them, nor watch from one of the terraces or windows where I might be spied. I feared that if I was seen that they’d ask for a blessing, something I’d have to refuse, or be tempted to try – and then be subjected to the full fury of my addiction.

  Instead, I watched from the tower atop the hall that sat beside the entrance to the canyons, from where Pedro and I had first come and taken in the vale’s view. There, I could see little detail, but at least sat
in the knowledge that I’d also be hidden by height and shadow.

  Their departure seemed delayed, and in truth, I suspected it was because Pedro was waiting, hoping I’d appear. His volunteers would no doubt also be hoping for such a thing – and a subsequent blessing. As much as I wished to do it, I couldn’t. If offering one blessing to Sef had been enough to fell me, then to offer such to nearly two thousand might not just unleash my hunger, but also endanger me.

  I couldn’t risk it.

  So, I watched them finally leave, marching across the valley to then pass by the Loyalist camp. There they were greeted with cheers, their numbers bolstered as some of the camp’s own joined their line, and then they were on their way again.

  Through all of it I watched, as they crossed the vale, found the far side of the sound, and then marched along that cool and stony shore. I didn’t leave the tower until they were lost in the haze of distance.

  And then they were gone, gone and unblessed.

  Chapter 30

  -

  Back to Adonis

  -

  The day came for Sef and Anton to depart Fel’s ship. It was cool and overcast after a long morning of rain, one that had helped cloak them as they passed beyond the narrow straits between Evora and Fletland. They sailed on until sunset, using the dying light to prepare and pack a small boat. Both of them knew that this was it; the end of friends and support. Soon they’d just have each other to back themselves as they began their trek, first through Fletland, and then into the unknown heart of Kalraith.

  Fel watched them pack, as did some of the crew. Those marked by the black, green and orange wristbands of House Jenn showed the greatest interest and were also eager to help.

  True to their word, Sef and Anton took little else but the boat and some fresh water and food. They also had their original gear from Anton’s rescue – that and two good pairs of boots.

  It was just after nightfall when they were ready to go. They knew which way to travel, and were assured that they’d only be cast adrift when the lights of Adonis were well in sight and range of a fair rower.

  Before long, those soft lights could be seen; a smudge of warm yellow and amber dots, accompanied by the harder whites of lamps. Above them loomed the deep blue glow of a squat tower, the structure rising to stand over the heart of the city.