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

by Colin Taber

  Matraia stumbled, falling clumsily against the wall. Despite all the healing she had received, she was again drained.

  The two men, both focussed on Sef’s efforts, didn’t notice.

  The big Flet started to flex his arms and stretch, readying himself afresh.

  Anton could see it was more a case of nerves that bothered his friend. He knew Sef was plagued by doubts as to what he could achieve. It was true to say the big Flet had never been strong in the ways of magic, but this was different to the power he had manipulated when he had been a priest of Kave. Juvela would not only give him what he needed, she would also take care to not overburden his body when they used it as a channel for celestial power.

  He tried to ease his friend’s worries by bringing his focus back to his usual concerns. “Once you open the way, we’ll need to get through quickly and be wary.”

  Sef nodded, relieved to have something more mundane to think about as he prepared himself. “Yes. I will go up first, and then pull each of you up.”

  Anton nodded, as did Matraia.

  “As soon as the way is clear, you may need to help me.”

  “Yes. Just tell me what you need.”

  Sef started rocking from side to side, his mind on what he needed to do. He brought his hands together and rubbed them. After a deep breath, he looked up to the grate and then reached for it, as he whispered, “Juvela, help us clear the way.”

  Anton stood beside Sef, also beseeching Juvela to lend her aid. He did not just do it with hope, but reached inward, and then into the celestial, tapping his own reserves of gifted strength.

  Sef’s fingers reached the grate and blue sparks flared. He slipped his fingers through and grabbed at it. The thick bars shed more dust with the contact, but green sparks also began to flare at his touch.

  His grip settled and his muscles bulged as he got a firm hold.

  Beside him, Anton could feel his own power gather in strength as Juvela also gifted blessings upon him. He readied himself to use it however he could to help Sef.

  Sef gritted his teeth and began to strain with the grate as he tried to pull it down. Green and blue sparks quickly spread to race along the metal, burning brightest around his hands and where the thick grid of moulded metal met the stone of the tunnel.

  A deep red glow began around the edges.

  Anton could feel the heat as the metal began to rise in temperature wherever it reached the edge of the opening.

  The red grew stronger, flaring into orange and burning yellow in places.

  The heat radiated, suddenly not just warm, but hot.

  Sef groaned as he tried to pull it down. Sweat beaded on his brow and ran down his temples, his face flushing as his arms strained.

  The grate shifted, just slightly, but enough to send a cascade of dust falling down upon them. Some of it sparked and caught aflame as it did.

  Anton hissed, “Nearly!”

  Sef merely concentrated on his celestial work as the ruddy glow of the heated metal grew brighter.

  The hot, yellow edges began to whiten in some places.

  Sef gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts. His growl became more desperate as he strained not just his muscles, but also his soul.

  Anton could feel him casting the blessed power out as quickly as it came in. The flow was gentle, as it was true Sef could not handle a lot, but it looked to be enough, for the grate shifted again, and this time it wasn’t just a short jerk, but a slower, constant movement.

  It was coming.

  The Outleaguer minded his own gifted power, preparing to bring it to use however it might be needed. At first he had thought he might need to boost Sef’s effort, but now as the big Flet pulled the grate down, the metal warping where it glowed, breaking free in places, but also stretching like molasses in others, it became plain his friend had it in hand.

  Anton stepped back to give him room to dump the grate, which looked to be much thicker and bigger than any of them had envisaged.

  With a final cry, it came free. The rain of dust lit not only by the green light of Juvela’s blessing, but also the fading yellow and amber of burning hot metal.

  With it free, the heavy grate dropped towards Sef, who had to strain at easing it down, lest it hit him in the head. The edges of it still glowed, but already most of them had settled to orange, some dimming to red.

  Sef cried out with his efforts, letting the grate drop to his side as he pulled his fingers free. He stepped back to get out of its way. A second later it clanged on the rocks loudly and then slid down the slope into the water. The glow at its edges hissed and lost the last of its heat.

  He sighed with relief, a final stream of green and blue sparks flaring between him and the metal, as he pushed out the last of his gifted power.

  Anton, confident his friend was safe, looked above at the dark opening and raised his hand. He had a ball of power in him, one he could not hold for much longer, and that was no longer needed to remove the grate. He decided to use it to clear the way above.

  Who knew what awaited them?

  He whispered to the others, “Brace yourselves.” And then a ball of fiery light rose from his hand and shot up the through their escape.

  Matraia gasped and stepped back, while Sef squinted and dropped a hand to cover his eyes.

  A heartbeat later the tunnel above roared with an eruption of flame. Yellow light blazed, a wave of heat also reaching them. The scent of smoke filled their nostrils, coming with the stirred air.

  Sef cried out, “What was that!”

  Anton put a hand to his friend’s shoulder. “I’m clearing the way. I also had power to shed.”

  Sef looked at him wide-eyed with surprise. A moment later a rain of ash fell down around them from the tunnel above. It floated like snow, aglow in green because of the light blessing. Some of it was still smoking.

  Finally, he said, “Well, that’s enough magic for now. Let’s get up there.”

  Matraia nodded in agreement, as did Anton.

  Sef reached up and found he could just get his fingertips to the edge of the tunnel floor above, but it wasn’t enough to grip. He looked at Anton.

  The Outleaguer asked, “Need some help?”

  “Yes. Drop down here and let me stand on your back. That should be enough.”

  Anton did. Sef stepped up on his back, reached up for the surface, grabbed on, and then lifted himself up with a leap. Beneath him he heard Anton give a grunt of discomfort as the bigger man launched himself.

  Sef was already tired and his muscles fatigued, but he had no difficulty getting himself up and back into the main tunnel. A good part of the light went with him.

  He quickly got to his feet and drew his sword.

  Looking around him, he could see the tunnel section here was dry and charred, the air still full of ash and dust after Anton’s incineration of the space.

  The Outleaguer called up, “ What can you see?”

  “Dust and ash.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Yes, nothing more but an abandoned tunnel.” Comfortable with his look over the space, he put his sword down and knelt next to the opening. He reached down and said, “Matraia first, and then former Inquisitors.”

  Anton agreed and led Matraia to stand in the right spot.

  Sef could see her, and said to her, “Bring your wings tight and watch them, but all you have to do is reach up. I’ll pull you until you can get your shoulders above the lip, and then you can haul yourself up. Is that alright?”

  She nodded, as she closed her wings around herself, and then reached up.

  He took her hand.

  Sef got a good grip, and then stood up, letting his legs do the lifting.

  Once she had her head and shoulders above the lip, she reached out with her spare hand and helped pull her body through.

  The big Flet was surprised at how light she was. Despite her being taller than both Anton and him, and her wings being able to spread well over twice that length, she was
half Anton’s weight.

  She got herself through, and then was up and standing beside him.

  Sef raised his eyebrows at her. “You weigh next to nothing?”

  “Most things that fly are light of body and narrow of bone.”

  He grunted at that as he turned back for Anton. “That makes sense.”

  Kneeling back down, he reached for Anton and said, “Matraia was surprisingly easy, but I suspect you will be another matter.”

  “Well, I do like an ale with good food,” the Outleaguer quipped as he reached up with his good hand.

  Sef chuckled as he got a good grip on his friend. “Is there anything down there we can salvage?” Anton glanced down over the rocks again. “No, you’ve got the gear, or what’s left of it. It is just me. If you really want, I can bring that grate up with me?”

  Sef didn’t bother with an answer. He merely tightened his hold and began to lift his friend up, bringing him back into the main tunnel.

  Soon enough, they were all ready to continue.

  -

  They had been walking for a while, mostly in silence, listening for any sound that would warn them of any foes. The road ran dry and mostly quiet, again coated in a thick layer of dust.

  Soon, they came across a section of tunnel with a series of water flows that came dripping from the ceiling above or bubbling from cracks in the wall. They all occurred around the same area. So they went from a dry walk in relative quiet to one where the growing flow meandered across a quarter of the roadway, joined by the occasional burbling and bubbling of another chorus when a new flow came down from the wall or roof to join it.

  Anton led them now, Sef slowing down as he checked through his pack, trying to work out what he still had and what they had lost. Juevla’s message to Dorloth remained, thankfully safe from the worst of the ravages of the water, but their supply of food was dire.

  Matraia walked beside Sef, moving with measured caution. He sensed she was still carrying a good number of hurts. And now, while they were getting close to Dorloth’s dominion, they no longer had the healing waters of the stream they had previously been able to use to help heal her and keep her strength up.

  They continued on.

  Sef noted that as they walked, they passed some large cracks in the sidewall. Some of them revealed a space beyond, dark and deep, similar to the one they had left behind in the previous tunnel, where they had sensed the presence that had so startled them.

  Just the memory sent a shiver down his spine.

  And then Anton stopped, right in front of him.

  Sef hadn’t been paying attention and walked straight into the back of him, sending both of them stumbling forward into a shallow pool of water that stretched across the roadway.

  “Gods, sorry Anton.”

  Anton didn’t reply – he just stared at the side of the pool, his face pale.

  Sef followed his gaze and saw some animal tracks. He got closer to them.

  A set of tracks lay there in the dust, and they were bigger than Sef’s own feet. They were narrow, but very long, each ending in five claws. The footprints warned that something formidable lurked here in the dark tunnel.

  “By all the gods!” he whispered.

  Anton searched the surrounding dark. “Is it possible? Can the vermin grow so large?”

  Sef was stunned. “I don’t know.” He turned to Matraia.

  She stood there, staring at the tracks, her own wings spreading wide behind, her feathers standing tall. “I have never seen one so big, but who knows what lives in these depths.”

  And then, from further back behind them, they heard the grind of dirt, ash and dust as something heavy moved.

  Anton whispered, “I’ve only got a knife?”

  Sef knew Matraia was similarly armed. He glanced at her and could see fear in her eyes. She started forward into the shallow pool to cross it, gaining speed.

  A deep hiss cut the air behind them.

  Sef didn’t wait, and he yelled, “Run!”

  None of them delayed.

  Behind them, they could hear other creatures’ hiss, followed by the rustle and thump of hurried movement.

  They ran through the shallow pool, passing over a pile of slumped debris where the roof had caved in to create a small dam. They moved further, heading down the wide road beyond, kicking up an age of dust. Aided by the slope, they just kept going.

  Their green light went with them, and at first, aside from the pool and bank of rubble, the way stretched clear, so they did not stop.

  They could feel the chill at their backs, a glare powered by the hate of things from the surface that dared intrude upon their subterranean domain.

  -

  At first there were sounds of pursuit, but they fell away. Nothing could be seen though as they stole glances over their shoulders during their hurried flight. Beyond the reach of their light spread only darkness.

  But they continued running.

  Their legs strained and their arms pumped, but soon enough their feet felt heavy and their rasping breaths burned their throats as their lungs worked the humid air.

  Ahead, they could see a gentle bend in the tunnel.

  They followed the road as it took the broad turn, the overflow of water from the pool behind them continuing down one side of the roadway, rumbling along and foaming white as it gathered speed.

  Their light only ranged ahead a couple of dozen paces, so it was with little warning that they rounded the last of the bend to find the road gone.

  Ahead, a dark void yawned for a few strides.

  The roar of a waterfall came at them, from where the flow rushed over the edge, leaving the broken road behind. As the water fell, it mixed with the larger flow from the drain below, the two of them crashing down to mingle and wash the mountain’s roots. Mist erupted from the fissure, catching the green light.

  Sef cursed, while Anton cried out.

  Behind them, only now catching up, Matraia gasped with both fatigue and exasperation.

  The road continued on the other side of the chasm, but the gap ran the full width of the tunnel and beyond, yawning about three paces wide.

  The closer they got, the clearer they could see what they faced.

  Sef yelled, “We can jump it!”

  Anton agreed, with a breathless yes. He worked to pick up speed.

  Behind them, Matraia rasped, “Go!”

  The great fissure that had fractured the mountain sometime in the past swallowed the angry flow, but Sef, Anton and Matraia were all determined to make it across with a giant leap.

  Sef went first, Anton close by his side. The last few steps were slippery from the wet, mist-soaked road surface, yet they both managed to fly over.

  They took the opportunity to look down, revealing a long drop that disappeared into gloom. The two of them could see the drain they had escaped, now broken, adding to the deluge of falling water. They could also see the dark mouths of caverns lower down.

  The caves were briefly lit in their transit by their accompanying green light, although little was revealed.

  Anton called a warning above the waters thunderous roar. He could see that the other side, the road they would land on, was treacherous and slick.

  Sef could hear Matraia behind him, breathing hard. She had kept up, also determined to make the jump. After he sailed over the void and landed, he came to a stop and turned, ready to help her.

  Matraia was only a dozen strides behind, but her steps were heavy.

  He urged her on.

  Her speed picked up, but she was off balance, succumbing to her exhaustion.

  Sef worried she would make a bad jump and fail the distance.

  Anton had stopped further along and now watched, crying out, “Jump!”

  She reached the wet section of roadway and took her last few steps.

  But on that last step, before leaping, she slid on the slick surface.

  She completely lost her balance.

  Sef cried out, diving back to
wards the edge.

  Matraia knew she was in trouble as she sent herself into the air. She called out as her leap veered off low and to the side.

  Instead of making the opposite edge, she was going to fall short and hit it.

  Sef was already flying forward, but she was moving too fast. He felt certain all he was going to achieve was getting a close up view as she dashed her head into the side of the chasm and then tumbled into the void.

  But the two middling men had forgotten she was Dagruan.

  Matraia spread her wings hard and wide, the movement sending a great snap through the air. The feathers on them blossomed white-green in the light as they caught enough air to slow her, restore some balance, and give her some precious lift.

  One moment she was leading with her head for the side of the chasm, seemingly doomed to hit just below the road’s crust, the next her wings spread and caught enough air to swing her up, lifting her head and torso.

  She reached the edge and just scraped over it.

  Sef grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her chest.

  She let her momentum get her over and on to the road, and then let Sef’s grip anchor her there. A heartbeat later she fell on top of him in a pile of relief and feathers.

  Once her flight came to an end and she fell to the roadway on top of him, she pulled her wings in and scrambled towards Anton. She did not slow until she was out of danger.

  Sef crawled back and got up. He asked her, “Are you alright?”

  She gasped, “Yes,” as she got onto her feet, her knees scratched and bleeding, and started jogging again, passing Anton.

  Sef glanced back across the chasm, but could not see any sign of pursuit. Turning his back, he followed her, Anton re-joining them.

  The road continued ahead.

  Soon the surface was dry again and on a consistently gradual slope down.

  All of them puffed as they continued, Matraia beginning to limp with bleeding knees, courtesy of her messy landing.

  Sef caught up and said, “Let us slow.”

  With all of them gasping for breath, they did.

  The big Flet said, “The chasm will delay pursuit.”

  Anton frowned as they continued to move, but now at a walking pace. “Perhaps. We don’t even know for sure what we left behind us.”