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

by Colin Taber

  I pitied them. Yesterday I was their hero, but today I was their villain. They’d changed so quickly, yet in that they weren’t alone. Not so long ago I'd been an innocent girl, but now I was a learning witch, an angry mother, and also a lonely wife trying to avoid being widowed.

  And the voices had changed with me.

  Their whispered messages came clearer now. It wasn’t as though they sounded out any louder as they offered their advice, instead they came on a different level. I no longer heard the thought to beware or to look with celestial eyes, now it instinctively happened.

  In much the same way, I found myself sensing the thoughts of those that I passed. Those mixing their thoughts with strong emotions came easy to sample, yet most were lost within confusing veils, and then there were others who came across as simple voids.

  Those that hid their thoughts so completely turned their knowing faces away. To read so many startled me, but to be refused by so many others was unsettling. The Inquisitor was right; the city was riddled with cultists, cabalists, and the Sisterhood.

  How could we have missed it?

  The thoughts I did read ranged from anger and disgust, to sorrow and fear. They combined to create a stinging bitterness in the celestial, the scent of souls turned sour.

  They hated me.

  The followers of Santana believed my denunciation of the new saint had endangered the whole city. In penance they’d rededicated themselves.

  I shivered. The city was a whore willing to sell itself for yet another turn of luck.

  Others pitied me. To them I'd become a mourning widow and mother, the very thing they so desperately wanted to avoid.

  Mothers held their children close as I passed, fathers averted their eyes, and some recited Santana's prayers. I noticed on more than one occasion that their mumbled, whispered, or wailed verses were offered up to more than Saint Santana. The name of another saint, Saint Malsano, also came into their good graces.

  Those who’d accepted the new saints didn’t trust the Inquisition. They remembered the city's long history, the conflicts, the rigid dogma, and the upheaval of The Burnings. They wanted safety for their families, not the hatreds of firebrands from a distant and almost foreign Black Fleet. Benefice Vassini might question the legitimacy of the new saints, but none of those who offered them prayers seemed to have suffered at the hands of the kidnappers. They’d won protection. In contrast, everyone knew that the one person who’d openly denounced them, me, had lost her family.

  A circle of space followed my progress down the avenue, it eight paces wide. I think it had been there through Newbank, across the Cassaro and St Marco's, but now it was unmistakable amidst the thickening crowds. Still, with more and more of the city’s ugly truths revealed, I was glad to be outcast from it.

  I finally reached the square to find it almost full. Well over ten thousand stood across its cobbled expanse, a sea of people extending all the way to the Lord's Residence. More joined the mass every moment, all come to hear the city’s fate. A subdued murmur sounded out from the crowd to build over a tense and deepening air.

  The Lord’s Residence stood festooned with both the long white and yellow and gold-starred ensigns of the Church, and the dour black and navy, with gold star and sword of the Inquisition. Anton and the Benefice were making a point; now they were the lords of the city.

  I went forward, wanting to be close enough to hear.

  A few Flet guildsmen stood out amongst the masses, recognisable by their guild jackets and caps. They’d be here to listen to the proclamation, the Guild no doubt worried that our people were going to be blamed for the woes of our beleaguered city.

  I came to a stop at the centre of the square where my circle of space remained, but even that had shrunk under the crush. I hoped it was small enough to keep me hidden: I wanted to hear the proclamation, not become a distraction from it.

  Looking about, I could see many in the crowd holding on to objects of faith; holy symbols, charms, and countless sprigs of oleander. The square was a focus, a divine focus, a focus of yearning and belief.

  I glimpsed skyward and let my perception drift into the celestial. The eye remained above, huge and wide, watching and waiting...

  But waiting for what?

  I feared I knew the answer; the next ritual, the ritual that would see Pedro and Maria slaughtered along with the rest of the Liberigo bloodline. The thought made me shiver, sending my perception back to the real world.

  Just in time...

  The noise of the crowd began to fade, and at noon the previously empty balcony of the Lord's Residence became full. At the centre stood the Benefice and the Inquisitor, the two flanked by priests, monks, and even some of the Inquisition’s feared knights; the Sankto Glavos.

  Inquisitor Anton raised his hand in greeting to the crowd, but wasted no time. “Welcome Ossard, welcome to your judgment!”

  Ossard had been judged once before...

  “For twenty years you have been without your shepherd, the Inquisition. Left untended, you, our most northern flock, surprisingly did quite well, even going on to recapture some of your past glory and wealth. Together you earned it, through your hard work and continued faith, but alas it could not last.

  “Amongst you were some who wanted more, those who were jealous of their neighbours, yet too slothful to apply themselves. Instead of working harder, you just watched for an easier way.

  “Inevitably, and without your shepherd to watch over you, the wolves that the Inquisition guard against found you, even here in the cool north. The ragged beasts slunk in during the long night that you were without us, them looking to feed and build a dark fort. Before long they met with those from amongst you who were of like minds and desperate for power, and together they struck a deal.

  “Your betrayers gained favour by not only selling their own souls, but by agreeing to supply the souls of others – souls not theirs to sell. In return they gained wealth and power, and into their dark conspiracy they recruited others. Soon the city of Merchant Princes became a place of secret cults conducting child-theft and murderous rituals.

  “Ossard, the wolves are amongst you! The Council of Merchant Princes has unwittingly let them in, delivering you into unclean fields – fields of heresy littered with the butchered ruins of your own children!

  “Why? Because of sloth and greed, and a lust for power! They have cursed this once-great city and endangered your eternal selves!

  “Ossard, you were once strong and united, but are now weak and divided as you tremble in fear. Because of the Merchant Princes’ failure they have been damned, and if you do nothing to save yourselves, so to will you be!”

  I could feel the crowd and its factions. Some listened with hope to the Inquisitor while others listened with deepening contempt.

  Those who’d embraced Santana and Malsano seemed to grow only more hostile to the Inquisitor's words, closing their minds and whispering to their like-minded friends. They began shifting towards the back of the square, repulsed by his message.

  Others who still clung to the traditional teachings of the Church and accepted the authority of the Benefice and Inquisition stepped forward, drawn towards the promise of salvation. Their minds overflowed with doubt and fear, but here they found hope and a rising sense of elation. It grew stronger with each step they took, encouraging them always on. Some of them began to call out, crying praise and glory, and even taking to singing the Church’s holy songs.

  My vision slipped into the celestial to witness sparks of light raining down from above. They struck and enriched the souls of the advancing faithful, a glowing rain of blessings from Krienta himself.

  Looking about, I could see a similar display of power at the back of the square. Violet blessings raced about like fireflies, weaving through the crowds, striking those already taken by the new saints. That swarm of blessings came from a twisting column of swirling light, a pillar that turned quickly and reached up into the sky.

  The two magics were t
he same, both divine, but of rival sources. Two gods battled here, and I could feel the tension as the real world strained.

  What would happen if more gods were attracted to a city of so many lost souls?

  And so the crowd split.

  The followers of the new saints were drawn away, lured by the swarming blessings visible only in the celestial but felt by those open to them. Their pursuit took them from the square, and the Inquisitor, but they didn’t care.

  Behind them they left the crowding followers of Krienta, all trying to get closer to the Inquisitor because of their own god's unseen gifts. People cried out in prayer, sang hymns, or just wailed in pious ecstasy.

  Ossard would never be the same again.

  Inquisitor Anton called out, “The city needs to be reborn! It needs your devotion and your vigilance! It needs to leave behind all those things that have brought it to this terrible point, and be rid of them forever!”

  Like parched drunkards they greedily drank of it.

  “Today we divest the city of the institutions that have failed her. There is no more Lord of Ossard, no more Council of Merchant Princes,” and he sniggered, “as if merchants could be princes! And all that is just the start!”

  The crowd cheered.

  “We will also do away with the Flet Guild and the Merchants' Guild. The old establishment is not welcome in our new and holy Ossard!”

  The cheer of the crowd grew louder.

  “In our new city there will be no cultists, cabalists, or witchery, and we will work together to prove our devotion. In a place of pure faith, there will be none to commit the crimes of kidnapping, and any who hold true will enjoy Krienta’s protection!”

  The crowd roared.

  “I hereby proclaim the founding of the Pious Empire of Ossard, the first city-state of the Inquisition!”

  The noise rose to be deafening.

  Anton raised his hands and went on, his voice miraculously clear, “Will you stand with us and save yourselves and your city?”

  And in their rapture they cried out that they would.

  Above it all came a clarion call, but the players were nowhere to be seen. Their work rang out in notes pure and strong, making their listeners’ souls sing.

  “The Church will rule your city and work for this crisis to be over. When Ossard is secure, we will then seek out other places of sin that may one day threaten to return the blight!

  “We will start a crusade!

  “We will seek out heresy!

  “And we will establish missions in Fletland and woeful lost Evora!”

  The shimmering forms of winged angels materialised above him, scores of them, and each played a long golden horn. Robed in white, they smiled with beautiful faces marked by nothing; not age, pox, nor ill form.

  The crowd grew louder, many letting tears run free. Most cried out of miracles and offered still more devotion.

  The angels finished their clarion call and dove down to glide over the square. They swooped low to lay their hands on the sick, to bless the needy, and to chase away any lingering despair.

  How could any doubt the Inquisitor and his declared pious empire? How could any doubt the future when it came heralded by angels?

  Those devoted to Krienta poured in from across the city to replace the followers of the new saints as they left.

  And amidst it all, in the centre of the crush, I remained alone and forsaken.

  Having got what I came for, to know the future of the Inquisition’s Ossard, I made to go.

  I began to cross the square as one of the angels glided down, unknowingly heading straight for me. At the last moment, he looked up, but then averted his eyes as he set his great wings beating. He still passed above, but at a greater height, and I swear that as he did he shivered.

  It reminded me of Anton’s words; that the city’s factions feared me.

  Was I something to fear?

  With my anger stewing over my missing daughter and husband, I knew the answer; and it was yes. Deep within me a power stirred, and it was only just beginning.

  After leaving the square, and those loyal to the Church, I passed through those who'd given themselves to the new saints. They headed towards the port district to where the razed warehouse had stood, lured by the swirling column of blessings.

  I left it all, heading back down the main avenue and towards home.

  The future of the city seemed clear: It divided three ways, two powered by gods, the other by a strong sense of community not without its own divine help.

  As Anton had said; the city would have to be washed in blood. Now I believed him.

  -

  I arrived at my parents' home to be greeted by one of their maids. The young woman failed to stifle a gasp when she opened the door. I could sense it, she was frightened, her mind crying out, “The Forsaken Lady!”

  I was surprised to see a fellow Flet so affected. She seemed confused and unsure. I didn’t sense that she'd pledged herself to the new saints, perhaps just to the street’s gossip.

  My mother took her place. “Where’ve you been, we’ve been worried?” The maid retreated into the shadows.

  I said, “Sorry, is Father back from the Guild?”

  “He’s in the rose garden.”

  “Is Sef with him?”

  Surprised at the question, she answered, “Yes?”

  I nodded and stepped past her.

  I found them in the courtyard sitting on the benches by the roses I’d planted almost five years ago. Strangely, as the city slipped towards chaos, the bushes seemed to have decided to bloom.

  Father looked pale and his face was grim. “Oh Juvela, are you well?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  He nodded, but kept looking at me to check me over. Finally he said, “I've been talking to the Guild, to Heinz Kurgar, they can't help –not to find Pedro and Maria. They’ve too much else to worry about.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m sorry Juvela, but they think they're going to be shut down by the Church, so they're preparing to go underground.”

  Sef watched him, but his eyes just as often darted to me. I realised that his vision focused not on this world, but the next, the celestial. He sat beside my father surveying my soul.

  He also had power!

  Slipping my perception into the celestial, I couldn't read his emotions or see any telltale glow or spark. If anything, it was his soul's blandness that gave him away. It was a false image, all too ordinary – something he projected to hide his true self.

  Could I trust him?

  It was Sef...

  Of course I could.

  I said, “The Inquisitor has declared Ossard the first city-state of a new and pious empire. He has also denounced and ordered the ruin of the Lordship, the Council, and both the Flet and Merchant Guilds as he blames them for the city's demise. He won't help us. He’s too busy using this as an opportunity to take power.”

  My father asked, “That was the proclamation?”

  “Yes.”

  “You were there?”

  “Yes, along with tens of thousands of people – and angels! Father, something terrible is coming. The city is divided three ways; the old of St Baimio, those of the new saints, and the Flets. The gods are at war, but it’ll be the ordinary people who suffer.”

  My grandmother’s voice hissed, “Not all of us are ordinary!”

  Sef looked to me and nodded.

  Had he heard?

  Father sat quietly, but after consideration asked, “And what of you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Your mother tells me that she gave you your grandmother's book. Can you use it? Will it keep you safe, or will it just see you burnt at the stake by Anton and his ilk as he did her?”

  Anton had claimed my grandmother?

  He looked me over, sensing something different. “Sweet Juvela, I don’t want to lose you, and least of all to the Inquisition.”

  “I’m changed, it’s true, but I’ll be safe.
I’m more worried about you and Mother.”

  Shaking his head, he whispered, “Juvela, what’s happening?”

  In truth I didn't know. I knew bits and pieces, but only a little more than he did. I shrugged. “What of Heinz Kurgar and the Guild?”

  “Like I said, he's worried that they’ll be shut down.”

  “It is going to be shut down. Does he have a plan?”

  “He wants to take the Guild’s workings into hiding.”

  “Father, our people are going to be used as scapegoats. We can't let that happen. Don't let Kurgar take the Guild underground, let it stand tall and proud as a symbol of hope. When the trouble starts our people will need something to rally to.”

  He asked, “What can we do?”

  “Gather our people into Newbank, two thirds of our number are already here and most of the rest on the riverbank opposite. We should then take control of the bridge. If we can hold it, we can be safe. Once we’ve done that the Guild can govern us.”

  My father spluttered, “You talk of insurrection!”

  “Father, the city’s already divided. Let the Heletians work out their differences and then we can deal with the victor.”

  He thought about it, his eyes wandering over the rose garden. “It might work.” He looked up to meet my gaze. “Where did you get such wisdom?”

  I frowned. “Wise women don't lose their families.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  Perhaps he was right. “Father, has anything been said about where Pedro and Maria might have been taken?”

  “Nothing for certain, only suggestions of the port district. Some of the guildsmen also talked of the Inquisitor's linking of the cults and Santana. They think he’s right, but not all agree.”

  “There's something else you should know.”

  “What?”

  “There’s another new saint.”

  “Another?”

  “I heard people speak of a Saint Malsano.”

  My father shook his head. “How can this be?” He looked about as if even in the privacy of his own courtyard he no longer felt safe. “We’ve heard that the followers of Saint Santana want to build a chapel on the ashes of the razed warehouse. They’re claiming that it'll purify the ground. It leaves me to wonder; could they actually be trying to build something there to use the ritual’s power?”