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

by Colin Taber

Matraia gave a slight nod as she began to find focus, but it was Anton who answered, repeating his previous observation, “That did seem all too easy.”

  Sef shrugged. “We were lucky, that’s all. All three kills were more or less in the back. Not one of them got the chance to attack us in any meaningful way. Such a thing is not likely to happen again.”

  Matraia finally lifted her hands from the water and shook the water free before whispering, “Their strength is in numbers, not as lone fighters. We were lucky there were so few.” She winced and looked down at her shoulder.

  Sef agreed. “We need to bury them before the corpses are spotted by more of their kind, but first let’s check to see if any of this has been noticed. Other patrols might have heard some of the noise. Who knows, they might even be able to smell the stink of their deaths?”

  Anton went for one of their packs. “We also need to tend that shoulder.”

  They left the stream and got to work.

  Burying the bodies didn’t take long, for Anton merely kicked down the gorge-side on top of the corpses. While he did that, Sef worked at cleaning the gash on Matraia’s shoulder, administering a small flask of herbal wash they’d been given by the Wildlings and then stitching and binding it.

  Matraia found comfort in Sef’s ministrations.

  Afterwards, they followed the stream for a good while in the dark, looking for the deepest eroded crevices they could find in which they could nestle. Sef took the watch after covering Anton and Matraia in blankets and then a light layer of dirt to again hide their scent.

  None of it was perfect, but he hoped it meant they’d get some sleep.

  -

  They trekked for all of the next day, taking it easy, with Sef and Anton watching Matraia as she carried her wound. They also kept a look out over the sky. To their surprise, as they moved well off the wide valleys and into the foothills proper, they actually made good progress, if they moved in a more sombre manner.

  Towards the end of the day the sky again came up overcast, encouraging them to quickly find the best cover they could. Eventually, they found a hillside where a tangle of exposed roots helped knit the soil together above an overhang cut out by a fast stream. The tree that had stood above was now just a blackened stump, two paces wide and waist high, but the shelter created by its mat of dead roots and the burnt clay caught up in its weave would do.

  Over past seasons, the wind and the rain had dragged away much of the soil underneath, cutting out the overhang, although it had little height. So, Sef and Anton laboured carefully to clear enough room for all of them to slide in and then reworked the ground they’d toiled over to hide any sign of their efforts.

  That night they all took watches, Matraia the last and the shortest, and they all enjoyed some sleep.

  -

  Anton watched the sunrise over the mountains now so close as to loom in places not just steep and jagged, but rudely sheer. The foothills had grown rugged and were still mostly stripped bare, the tortured land burnt to be free of any meaningful cover or greenery.

  Sef stepped up beside him, making his own observation of this blasted place and the Varm Carga beyond. He wondered – what lay over the mountains?

  The thought came with the same wistfulness that had ridden his mind when he’d been told of the New Praagerdam out to the west, hidden away on the island of Wairanir.

  Was there hope over the mountains, an ally, a chance for victory...

  ...or just another chance for an early death?

  Really, it didn’t matter.

  He’d been so close to passing on so many occasions that every day now came as a blessing. He also didn’t fear such an end when it finally caught up with him. All he really wanted to do was help Juvela and aid the cause of Life.

  He’d give anything to see what might come if Death, against all odds, suffered losses in a new divine war.

  And what kind of world might that be?

  A new world crafted afresh by the forces of Life would, as a consequence, change all that they had known. In its own way, such a thing would also be destructive with its upheavals and disasters, but the hope, of course, was that such changes, in the end, would be more positive than whatever might come after a final victory of Death.

  Sef smiled as he looked at the bleak clouds and harsh hues hanging over the mountains to the north. He was already seeing glimpse of what that new world would hold – a New Praagerdam, a winged race of finesse and beauty, a world where life fought not just to survive, but to thrive and remind the ignorant of its reverence.

  In all that, what was to fear?

  Anton asked, “What is on your mind, my friend?”

  Sef sighed.

  “Tell me.”

  Sef turned and shook his head. “I was just thinking of how the world might change, I mean if we are able to strike back and win, at least in some way.”

  Anton looked at the mountains as the clouds broke apart to reveal the sun. “You fear the changes that we may unleash?”

  “No... just the uncertainties that might come with them.”

  “Don’t, Sef, for change comes regardless of what we do. Think about it this way – the world will not stand still. If Juvela were to fail, other changes would come, and we’ve already seen enough of their nature to know that they would not be fruitful.”

  They both turned to look at the nearest sentinel tower sitting atop a peak perhaps a day’s march away.

  Sef said, “So, what will be our story if we are caught by Kavists and questioned?”

  “Treasure hunters looking to plunder the ruins of the fallen dominion?”

  “And Matraia?”

  A wry smile came to Anton’s face. “I was hoping you weren’t going to ask, but if we must say something, then she is our guide.”

  “And what if they know of us?”

  “Back on Fel’s ship, I would have said such a thing would be an irrational fear, but it seems we were known as soon as we landed, and again when we left the roads of the lakelands and headed into the woods. I think we’ll have to assume they’ll know of us. There might not be seers out here to announce it, but our divine marks will still be strong for any priests looking for such a thing.”

  “So?”

  “We’ll just have to not get caught.”

  “Clearly.” Sef gave his friend a wink and laughed.

  “Well, let’s get to it.”

  Matraia stepped up behind them, moving a little stiffly, but with colour in her cheeks. Her initial unease at travelling by foot had softened, though her health still seemed unsettled.

  Chapter 4

  -

  A Recovery

  -

  Marco’s Ruin, The Northcountry.

  As I stood there at the window of my room in the dark of night, I whispered a prayer, “Sef and Anton, travel safely and hurry back. I need your guidance and support.”

  Uttering such a thing gave me comfort, even as I stood alone, taking in the dim vista that spread before me. The sound lay quiet, the water sat still, as did the wind. Around it all, the vale was under the silver light of the moon, the sky above woven of the deepest blues.

  When I’d whispered my words, I could feel my will push my wishes out. I’d sent power to them, one of many blessings they would need. I’d sent them on a dangerous mission – and that danger was only beginning to become clear to me now.

  The way to Fletland and the crossing to its frontier held many hazards, some mild but others difficult. So far I knew through my link to them that the two men had evaded a Kavist pursuit, which now lay behind them, but that was the least of their worries, as ahead stood a much more considerable obstacle – the Pandike.

  I felt it...

  Thousands of Kavists manned dozens of towers, the Sentinels that dotted the Varm Carga, securing the approaches to the heart of Kalraith. Yet, that was the least of their worries, as Kavists were a known threat to both Anton and Sef. The real danger lay in what scoured the lands around from the skies above, the K
avists ominous allies – the gargoyles.

  With Sef and Anton’s growing friendship with Matraia, I could also see more of what lay ahead. She was holding back some of the truths, a terrible effort built on trying not to deter them. She not only wanted to aid them and thus me, but she also needed them to arrive so as to help rally her own people.

  I saw it; the Dagraun of Kalraith were divided.

  War threatened the heart of Kalraith, delivered after a campaign of gradual advances by the gargoyles that was only picking up pace. Matraia and her faction had watched this uprise, a rallying they felt was about to bloom unlike it ever had in the past. This time they feared the gargoyles were both much better organised and more numerous. All at the very moment Dorloth stood fatigued and weakened by doubts.

  Sef and Anton carried a spark of hope and it was up to them to make sure it flared. In doing so, in the lands they visited, they’d guarantee not only the Dagraun’s salvation, but perhaps our own back in the Northcountry.

  I sighed as I thought about it. I’d send blessings to them whenever I felt they needed them, boosting the protection I’d already given them through my link to Sef. For now I would give them all the aid they asked for.

  Until my hunger again stirred.

  I’d fed in Ossard, in truth I’d fed well and full. True, I could have fed on and on, not stopping until I’d become so powerful – and mad – that I’d have left Ossard a wasteland of the dead and begun eating rival gods.

  Or at least tried to before the latter struck me down.

  Yet, I had changed after my feeding. I now had some control. I could even use the celestial without rousing my hunger and having it overwhelm me. At least for now.

  Simply, for the moment, my dark appetite was sated.

  Such a feeling wouldn’t last. There’d be a point – no doubt too soon – when I again became crippled by its desire.

  But in the meantime...

  In the meantime I had more freedom than I’d had for over a season to work in that other world. I was still reluctant to use the celestial, trapped in memories of what it meant and of from where my power had come.

  Yet, I now had an opportunity to learn.

  The night air chilled beside me. I was no longer alone, despite my need to be as I contemplated the fated road ahead.

  The Prince stepped up beside me. “Juvela, you should sleep.”

  “Sleep?”

  “Your health is important.”

  I frowned. “You mean I need to be ready for the coming end of all this.”

  He turned to me, but I refused to take my eyes from the view and meet his gaze. “We are now well down the road, a trail some of us have been on for a very long time. So much is at stake, so much that we thought we had already lost. The future is there for us to take.”

  “Yet, much of it comes down to me, doesn’t it?”

  He was quiet for a moment, but finally admitted it. “Grae ru.”

  We stood in silence.

  Finally, I balled one of my hands into fist and hit the chilled windowsill. “Damn it all! I’ll follow the road. I’ve said I’d do it, and I have no intention of breaking that promise.”

  The Prince gave a nod beside me. “You are a wonder, to walk such a burdensome road.”

  I turned to him. “I’ll do it because I must, not just for Maria and the people here, but for all the world. I also accept that this is what I was born to do. This is what Schoperde seeded my soul for. It is not just my duty, but what I am made for.”

  He gave a nod, a sad smile on his face. “Grae ru.”

  “You know, I don’t know how much of this is because of my recent feeding or because of your protective aid, but I feel calm and in control of my hunger at the moment. What do you know of this?”

  “You are sated, that is true, but you fed only days ago. Already the hunger will have begun to build afresh. I sense you know this.”

  “I thought it might be so.”

  “We will be here to help subdue it again when it becomes too strong, but for now you have some freedom you have not enjoyed in a long while. Use it.”

  “Freedom?”

  “To use the celestial, to explore that space, to also leave here if you want to.”

  “And to send fresh power to Sef and Anton.”

  “Yes, and others.”

  I gasped, hit by an idea that should’ve already occurred to me. “Kurt and any survivors, I can offer them protective blessings?”

  “Grae ru.”

  I closed my eyes and sent my perception out into the celestial world.

  To be back in that black and blue void made me shiver, yet at the same time, I also knew it was my fate. For the first time in a long time I was safe here and not risking the wrath of my unbridled hunger.

  From beside me, back in the physical world, I could hear the Prince as he spoke, “You must take advantage of this respite, as it will not be long before your hunger again rises.”

  I agreed as I pushed my perception through the void to begin my search for Kurt. Behind me, I could see the souls – so many souls – of those who still called Marco’s Ruin home. They glowed, their life-lights flaring blue-white against the darkness of the celestial. As I left them, passing some close by, I also noticed something I’d almost forgotten due to my absence from this world; the sparks of green that burned, hidden deep within the souls of Life’s followers.

  Those green lights stood out amongst the glare because I was both attuned to see them and knew what to spot, but to most others they would be lost in the brilliance of the blue and white life-lights. Focussing on them, I headed forth searching for more. If any of my people were out there, I was determined to find and bless them.

  I’d give them the protection now that I’d been unable to offer before, and hopefully that’d be enough to get them safely home.

  Baruna had already gathered a force and ridden out into the night, heading for the path that would eventually take them up and over the ridge. Her force was sixty strong and included the last of our horses.

  As I stood there in the ruin with the Prince, I watched for Baruna’s soul.

  Eventually I found them. They were not far from where I’d camped my first night on the road when I’d so recently headed to Ossard, chasing my husband.

  They had made good time.

  I blessed each of Baruna’s force as I passed them by, particularly mindful as I sensed the nearness of the sour souls of the bandit camp.

  And with that sensing, at the back of my mind, my hunger began to stir.

  I wasn’t ready to retreat from the void, so I continued on in my search. I avoided the bandit camp and headed up the celestial equivalent of the ridge searching for the souls of any surviving volunteers.

  I found some just before I reached the top of the ridge – a dozen, all hosting the green sparks that showed them to be aligned to Life. They were sleeping while two watched over their number.

  Weary, they looked to be on foot. For two days they must have evaded capture, following the road down the Cassaro before taking the trail up the ridge. I blessed them, giving them healing and strength before passing them by to continue my search.

  Moving on I soon found others. Some were by themselves, others in pairs or small groups. All of them I could spy by searching for the green sparks of Life that lit their souls.

  Continuing, blessing all I passed, I began to find larger groups of not just half a dozen, but more. Finally, just up from the base of the ridge-side trail in the Cassaro, where the slope spread, dotted by hundreds of rosetree stumps, the soil around them salted, I came upon the largest group. Over one hundred of our people camped there, with a full score on watch.

  The slope was where I had first returned the rosetree to the Northcountry, the trees sprouting from the timbers of our cart as we escaped the fallen city and made for the ruins all those days ago. The magical woodland was later felled by Kurgar’s cultists in an effort to break Sef’s spirit while he was imprisoned. None of that mattere
d, not now.

  This group was strong, organised, and working a slow retreat as they maintained a rearguard. I couldn’t sense any others further on.

  At their heart, still with horses and carts to drive, stood Kurt. He was awake and leading one of the watches. Loyal to the last, and capable, but also thankfully alive.

  Relief ran through me, only stirring my determination to salvage something from the debacle of the whole attack. I poured my blessings into him and his people, not just of protection and healing, but also of energy and speed.

  “Come home to us!” I whispered.

  As my blessing flowed, their souls stirred. Those on watch began to pace, suddenly restless and eager to move, while those asleep awoke with a start, reaching for boots and weapons.

  The whole camp began to rouse and ready to begin their march.

  Their passage would be quick, letting them gather up all those ahead of them while also pushing them safely past the bandit camp in numbers if Baruna didn’t reach them first.

  But that wasn’t all that happened.

  I could feel traces of life under the soil, deep within the ridge, where the last of the rosetree roots fought to survive against the creeping scourge of the cultist-dumped salt. Wherever I found such a flare of life, I let great bolts of power flow from me to energise the trees. Before long, as Kurt and his people began to move off, the soil began to shift, as fresh shoots pushed and emerged.

  The new growth shoved aside salt crystals and broke through the toxic white crusts that caked the soil around rotting tree stumps. As more saplings speared up, the poison was increasingly turned over and buried by robust shoots. The returning trees climbed quickly and thickened, rising tall and true. With an unnatural vigour, the rosetrees re-established their woodland, and then began to spread.

  Kurt witnessed it, the return of green life, and knew it for what is was, as he called on his people to get moving, despite their awe.

  I whispered, “The wood will stand to guard your back. No servant of Death shall pass.”

  Having spent what I could, I knew that I shouldn’t strain myself and should instead return my perception to the physical world.