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

by Colin Taber

  She was searching my soul, her own face plagued by frustration.

  It was then that I realised her dress was woven of flame and smoke, her whole spirit defined by her fiery death.

  And all the while my power stirred, growing restless, yet somehow trapped.

  What was wrong?

  Back in the real world, Sef’s voice grabbed my attention, “Juvela, where do you want us to go?”

  It dragged my perception back. “If Newbank’s under siege, we have to help.”

  He growled at Kurt, “Go man, get us to Newbank!”

  Kurt yelled at the horses, striking them as he sent us speeding home.

  13

  -

  Fires at Sunset

  -

  The sun had begun to set behind us, tinting the sky a fiery orange and making the thick columns of smoke all the more ominous as they took on the tones of red. The very air seemed to glow, the sun’s last rays catching the haze and ash to give it a golden edge.

  Our coach charged along as if out of control, but Kurt somehow managed it. He yelled for people to clear the way as he dared people to dither, the crack of his whip offering encouragement.

  While the streets surrounding the port had stood mostly empty, they became crowded closer to the river forcing us back near Market Square. Kurt slowed, having to pick his way more carefully.

  We turned near the rear of the Cathedral to miss the worst of the crowds, and from there took another street that came into the bottom corner of the square. Kurt took us along its edge, its centre full of people cheering at a fire where smoke billowed to rise.

  My grandmother’s spectral voice howled, “No!” and around her climbed a maddening chorus. She commanded, “Go there, seek him, kill him!”

  Her intensity shocked me.

  She growled, her words striking like blows, “He’s doing it again!” and demanded, “Stop him!”

  I began reaching for the sliding panel to instruct Kurt, but Sef grabbed at my hands. His grip was firm and tight, he'd never held me like that before. Leaning forward to meet me face to face, he hissed, “No, he’ll kill you!”

  Had he heard her?

  I whispered, my voice weak, “She wants to...”

  “I know she does, but you must fight!”

  “She's so strong. She wants me to, all of them do.”

  “Yes, but it'll cost you your life!”

  I gasped, “Not if she can strike him...”

  He called out, “Kurt, get us away from here!” Then he turned his attention back to me. “She will kill him, but in the process she'll possess you to do it. Once back in flesh, she won't relinquish it!”

  Tears crept from my eyes. “I can hear the fire and feel its heat!” And I could, the searing burn of it licked hotly at my feet.

  He called out to Kurt, “Faster!”

  The coach turned and launched into speed. The movement threw us to the side, leaving us staring into the heart of the crowd and a distant bonfire.

  Sef cursed, “Damn it, Kurt, move or I'll have your balls!”

  I gasped as I stared into the hungry flames. Amidst their yellow glow stood three stakes, each with a charred form slumping from it.

  The voices within me howled, my grandmother’s calling, “Damn you, take me to him!”

  The Inquisitor had been busy.

  Sweat ran from my brow and down my trembling arms, yet Sef's grip held firm. He gave me an anchor from which to drive back her rage. Gritting my teeth, I gathered my will and closed myself to her anger. At the same time, and working to my advantage, each moment saw the coach move further away.

  Sef hissed, “Fight them, Juvela! Fight them for Pedro and Maria!”

  And I did, forcing them back while whispering that there’d be another time for vengeance – a better time.

  Finally, they relented.

  I sighed with relief, conscious of my body’s tenseness and dampness after washing itself in sweat. I gave a nod that saw Sef relax his grip.

  Breathing heavily, I said, “We haven't even got to the bigger fires, I dread to think what's happening there.”

  He shrugged. “We’ll see soon enough. Are you sure you’re alright?”

  I nodded and leaned back into my seat.

  We turned out of the square, slowing for the corner as we passed the city’s old opera house. Then it happened, coming out of nowhere, a whisper cutting through my mind and straight into my heart, “Mama!”

  I screamed, “Stop!” and lunged for the door. The energy that had spent a lifetime building within me surged and bucked.

  Sef tried to stop me, but as I opened the door and stepped out of the slowing coach, I gasped, “Maria’s here!” He froze in shock.

  I hit the cobbles hard, but somehow managed to keep my feet. Around me people stared, wondering who this mad woman was who'd stepped from a moving coach. Then they knew. I heard it whispered on dozens of tongues and in a hundred minds, “The Forsaken Lady!”

  Kurt stopped the coach nearby.

  Sef called out to him, “Wait.” He jumped down to run across and join me. “What is it?”

  “Maria’s here!”

  A crowd began to gather.

  Sef glared at them to keep them back, but it didn't hush their minds.

  “The Forsaken Lady!”

  Sef asked, “Where?”

  With frustration, I said, “I don't know!”

  Already part of my perception dove through the celestial calling out her name. Searching alongside my soul were others, including my grandmother – this time helping.

  Into the celestial I called, “Maria!”

  Only silence met me, not even a taste.

  Sef, worried about the gathering crowd, asked again, “Where?”

  The air swirled about us, dragging the smoke of the bonfires low and bringing with it the stench of burning meat.

  I shook my head while again calling into the celestial, “Maria?”

  Silence.

  Tears came to me. A great flood of bloody things that trickled down my face as though my heart had broken to release its store.

  The crowd gasped and fell back.

  I could also see Sef’s pain; his eyes wide and ready to shed his own grief. How could I have ever doubted him? Despite his own secrets, he remained, as he always had been, loyal.

  I fell to my knees, landing hard on the cobbles. It hurt, but the pain was nothing compared to the celestial’s quiet.

  I screamed again into that strange black and blue world, “Maria!”

  Silence.

  “Maria, I love you!”

  Nothing.

  Sef looked down at me with sorrow-filled eyes, but I barely noticed. Every ounce of my being listened in the celestial, waiting and sensing for some sign of my daughter's life.

  It didn't come.

  With hands bloody from wiping at my tears, I reached out to lean on the cobbles in front of me. So close to finding her, yet having failed, I could feel the gorge rising within; I was going to be sick.

  As my bloodstained fingers touched the cobbles, the font of power within my soul sparked. The air around me chilled and crackled, taking on a metallic stink, and then my senses in both worlds were blinded as I released a ring of power. It rushed out from me to roll away.

  Sef gasped as the crowd fell back, but the best part cut through it like love into loneliness – it was her celestial voice, “Mama?”

  “Maria! Where are you?”

  “Mama!”

  “Maria, I'm just off the square. Where are you?”

  “I don't know, but it's dark and damp. I think I’m in a cellar.”

  “Is Father there?”

  “Father's here and others, but they can't talk. They're asleep.”

  I looked to Sef. “I've got her. She's nearby, maybe in a cellar.”

  He looked around us only to turn back confused. “How close does she have to be to hear you?”

  “Not too far, the link isn't that strong.” But I wondered; why coul
dn't I see her soul?

  Sef nodded. “Well, she's either in a cellar of one of the shops behind you or in the opera house.”

  We both looked to the imposing building. Somehow it seemed right that she’d be in there, it’d been closed for a while and was big enough to keep a large group in. I started to get to my feet, but the link with Maria broke as soon as I lifted my hands from the bloody stones.

  After worrying about her for so long, to have the link cut so abruptly saw me throw myself back down. Straight away I could feel her.

  Sef whispered, “Juvela, the crowds, we should come back later.”

  I looked about. People were again gathering close, and behind them climbed the smoke of the bonfire. Having denounced the new saints, I was of no further use to Anton. He’d have me burnt, after all, in his Ossard I was part of the problem.

  Sef grew nervous as the crowd thickened. “If the Inquisitor hears that you're here, there’ll be no hope for any of us. Let’s come back tonight and I’ll bring some friends.” As he spoke he opened his shirt to expose a metal symbol hanging on a leather thong.

  It rested on his broad and battle-scarred chest, shining as it caught the light. It was a sword held within a circle; the holy symbol of Kave.

  If I returned with such a group we’d have a real chance. Right now, by ourselves, we didn't. I sighed but nodded, and then sent a thought of love to my daughter. “We have to go. Maria, but I love you, and will be back for you tonight. Can you be brave and wait?”

  She was frightened. “Mama, do you have to go?”

  “I do, but I’ll be back soon.”

  “Mama?”

  “Be brave, be brave for me and your father. You have to watch over him until I come back, alright?”

  “Alright.”

  “I love you, Maria.”

  She giggled.

  Reluctantly, I lifted my bloody palms from the cobbles, and walked back to the coach. Tears blurred my vision, a mix both red and clear.

  Sef was quick to follow as he ordered Kurt, “On to Newbank!”

  Kurt forced the horses through the crowd, getting us back on our way.

  -

  Kurt called out a warning, and a moment later the coach slid as we took a sharp turn. The air stank of burning as smoke billowed hotly past my window. We'd taken a side street to get off the avenue, and I could see why as I glimpsed a Heletian mob pelting a row of burning buildings: It was a block of homes and businesses, all Flet owned.

  Kurt called, “We'll be in Newbank soon if the roads are clear!”

  Sef grumbled, “The city's going to the Pits!”

  I said, “We'll get through the night and see how things stand in the morning.” But even I wasn't listening to my words, my mind focused on Maria and Pedro, and the feeling of desolation consuming me after leaving them.

  Kurt took us around more tight bends, and dodged other crowds, before finally turning a corner to come within sight of the bridge across the Cassaro. He cursed loudly as he brought the horses to a stop.

  Over the river, Newbank spread under a pall of smoke. A dozen fires dotted the district, the biggest flaring from the city-end of the bridge where flames ate hungrily at its old timbers. Between it and us spread a mob of Heletians praying for the flames to spread.

  Sef said, “We have to get away from this.”

  I nodded.

  Kurt slid open the port and suggested, “If the city gates are still open, we can get out and head up the valley to cross the river at the old Goldston bridge.”

  The round trip would take most of the evening, but we didn't have much of a choice. “Do it,” I said, and Sef agreed.

  -

  By the last light of dusk, we passed through unmanned gates and up the valley road, heading for the ancient bridge.

  For most of the trip I watched Ossard recede behind us. The city was lit in several places by the glow of fire, and above it all climbed great plumes of smoke. The terrible columns twisted as they rose, catching the garish glare of the fires’ orange light.

  The city was dying...

  It would be hard to get back to Maria and Pedro without the Cassaro Bridge, but not impossible. Regardless, I’d have to try.

  14

  -

  Newbank at Night

  -

  A cold wind blew in from the sea to blast smoke up the valley and fill our approach. It haunted the scene with an aura of fire-lit haze, the stinking exhalation rushing up and over the city’s wall aglow in orange, red and yellow. Through it loomed the dark silhouettes of a handful of towers, one itself ablaze. It looked like the end of all things, and I could only guess at what horror unfolded beyond in the fire-ravaged streets of my home district.

  We followed the road up to the gatehouse, but could see that the gate stood shut. Kurt slowed the coach.

  Amidst the crackle and roar of the flames came little else, but we realised that while such sounds did rumble on they seemed distant. Kurt offered, “If Newbank was doomed, the gate would be open to let our people out.”

  Sef agreed and climbed onto the roof of the coach. “Ho Newbank, open the gate!”

  A moment of silence followed, only to be broken by a thankfully Flet voice, “The gate is closed!”

  Sef replied, “We’ve come from the city and are trying to enter Newbank. The bridge across the Cassaro is down, so this is our only way home.”

  The voice came again, and this time the silhouette of a head could be seen. “Home you say? Name yourselves!”

  I am Sef Vaugen, in the employ of Lady Juvela Liberigo – once Van Leuwin – who awaits entry with myself and our driver, Kurt Baden.”

  The clink of chains sounded as more figures appeared atop the wall, this time lantern-lit. “Come through, but be quick!”

  Before he finished, the gate was already opening.

  We passed through only for it to groan closed behind us.

  A team of guildsmen manned it, and waited for us on the other side. One of them, the man who'd questioned us from above, appeared beside our coach. “Lady Juvela, Newbank is under siege. The Guild and others, such as your father, are making plans as we speak.”

  “What's happened?”

  He shook his head. “I can't be sure, things are very confused.”

  Sef asked, “But Newbank burns?”

  “It looks worse than it is. The Guild moved to block the bridge, but not before the Inquisition got some men across – they tried to close the Guild. When we moved to stop them, they began torching buildings. Some have died, dozens in fact.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Guildmaster Kurgar feared that they'd try again so he ordered the bridge torched. Many are glad and feel safer, but we know that won’t be the end of it.” He looked me in the eyes. “I fear what tomorrow may bring.”

  Sef asked, “And what of the fighting across the river?”

  “We don’t know much, only that there’ve been riots. Many take comfort in seeing the smoke rise from all across the city and not just here.”

  I nodded. “Thank you for admitting us, but we should be on our way.” My thoughts were on Maria and Pedro and the time we’d already spent.

  -

  We travelled slowly through crowded streets.

  Many of the people about carried burdens of bagged and wrapped belongings – they looked to have fled their homes on the far side of the river. Wherever I looked, I saw people confused and fearful with their lives forever changed, and all in the space of a single day. I realised then how vulnerable we were, not just individually, but as a people. What had stood as the most prosperous Flet population in all of Dormetia now cowered: If the Flets of Ossard were lost it would leave nothing but besieged Fletland.

  One day the genocide would be complete!

  We headed near to the ruin of the Cassaro Bridge. Its timbers still burned, the fire now only sparking and smouldering compared to its earlier incarnation. People also watched the spreading flames that flared along the opposite riverbank, while over there, mobs of Heletian
s looted and torched abandoned Flet homes.

  Many of the owners of those properties stood in front of us, wrapped in the night, as their tears caught the light of the fires that consumed their worldly wealth. The looters showed as silhouettes against the glare of the flames. From the safety of the far shore, they, Heletians all, jeered and laughed at the Flets of Newbank.

  Sef hissed, “They're bastards. Look at them, look at how they tear our people's lives apart!”

  I agreed. “They're cowards.” I could feel the hate amongst them.

  “I didn’t survive the battlefields of Fletland to watch such a thing. If you're not going back tonight I'll have to be excused, for my sword hungers for the blood of cowards!”

  “I share your anger, Sef, but I will need your help. I can’t leave Maria and Pedro over there. Please come with me and bring as many of your friends as you can. Once I have my family back, I'll ask nothing more of you for the evening.”

  A smile lit his face, and in his eyes I saw death – not his, but of a hundred fools. My perception dipped into the celestial to deliver the realisation that Sef was not only a follower of Kave, but also one of his priests.

  -

  The Guild’s compound was made up of various structures from warehouses to stables, dormitories, and of course the Guildhall. It sat along the riverfront by the bridge, its water-facing windows now shuttered closed. Guildsmen hid behind a hastily prepared stockade that also lined the river’s side, the defences already covered in a crop of spent arrows.

  Guildsmen waved us off from approaching the main entrance by the water, obviously worried about archers. Instead they sent us around to the rear gate that led to the stables and courtyard. We left our coach there in Kurt’s care and headed straight for the main building. The courtyard was crowded and chaotic, and it looked like the Guildhall would be no better.

  Inside people rushed about and talked the place full of noise, their hectic energy balanced by sobering clusters of refugees. One of the groups we passed talked of taking a boat and leaving Ossard. Again it seemed my people might be forced to try their luck at sea.