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

by Colin Taber

  The idea haunted me. I could picture myself weathered and sick for lack of food and water, while clutching Maria to my sunburnt breast. It wasn’t an option. I didn’t want to run. I wanted to survive the fall of Ossard – and my people with me.

  Sef and I found an attendant who led us up some stairs and down a passage, the building like a maze. Soon enough we rounded a corner to find my father waiting in a small lounge where he studied a map of the city. He looked up. “Juvela, Sef, did you find anything?”

  I said, “Not at the warehouse, but at Market Square. I think Maria and the others are being held in a cellar, perhaps in the old opera house.”

  His face lit up. “Are you sure?”

  “I'm sure they're in the area, but not so certain where. It doesn’t matter, we'll find them.”

  His relief faded as his eyes filled with concern. “You can’t go back, it's too dangerous!” he hesitated, but then continued in a softer tone, “Juvela, there’ve been some burnings.”

  “I know, but I have to go.”

  He sighed, but gave in for the moment. “How did you get back?”

  I told him and then asked of happenings in Newbank.

  “Things are bad, but we’ve managed. Kurgar wants to try and negotiate with the Inquisitor, but there’s so much anger outside. I think it’s too late, already too much blood’s been spilt. We know of sixty deaths in Newbank, and there are still thousands of Flets trapped on the river’s other side. We hope they're alright, but the fires are spreading, and with them the violence.”

  A guildsman called to us.

  My father turned and nodded. “Come, we can go in.”

  We entered Kurgar’s office, but he wasn't alone. Several guildsmen sat and stood about his desk, and back against the wood-panelled walls. To either side of him also stood two other men. One of them wore robes of blue and a string of amulets. I could feel their power. The grey bearded Heletian looked to me with curiosity, his bald head beaded in sweat.

  A mind-voice whispered, “Welcome.”

  The other man stood as a warrior cut from the same mould as Sef, he openly wearing the sword-in-circle of Kave. Upon seeing him, Sef bowed, suddenly full of an embarrassed reverence. The man carried a good deal of energy both in his physical presence and in the celestial. He nodded to me in greeting.

  The mind voice whispered again, “That is Seig Manheim, Ossard’s most senior priest of Kave. I am Mauricio Ciero, the most senior Cabalist.”

  Kurgar stood and gestured for us to sit in the chairs before his desk. We took them.

  “Juvela, how are you?”

  I supposed he meant after the kidnapping of my family. “Well enough.”

  He didn't believe me, but he couldn’t know of the changes wrought in me. “Your father says that it was your idea to close the bridge and seal the district?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was a good idea. It seems that the Inquisitor had ordered his men to torch this building and then as much of Newbank as they could. Many would have died. We owe you our thanks.”

  “I’m just glad to have helped.”

  He nodded. “And you’ve been looking for your husband and daughter?”

  “Yes, and I think I've found them.”

  Surprised, he asked, “Really?”

  “They're being kept just off Market Square.”

  “Market Square?”

  “I believe they're in a cellar, perhaps of the old opera house.”

  He considered my answer. “That’s possible, the building hasn't been used in seasons.”

  “We couldn't stay because of the crowds, but I’m going back tonight.”

  My father added, “We were talking about it.”

  Kurgar asked, “By yourself?”

  Sef said, “I’ll help, and take some of my brethren.”

  Kurgar nodded and then leaned back. He spread his hands on the desk in front of him. “The city...” He shook his head. “The city is in a terrible state. There’s fighting in many places, and it's aimed at all parties. It’s more like there are three cities, and we’ve each elected to go to war with each other. The Inquisition controls the north and centre, we have some of the east and Newbank, and the followers of the new saints have claimed the port and the south. It’s lunacy.”

  “How much of the east do we have?” I asked.

  “Only what’s still to burn. Thousands of our people are stranded over there, but I doubt we'll hold it by sunrise.”

  Sef shifted uncomfortably as did Seig Manheim.

  “Can we do anything?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “What can we do without stoking the hatred that’s already burning? If we send an armed force across the river, it’s an escalation. So far most of the violence has been by angry mobs, but if we’re seen putting militia into action, we might end up fighting whatever’s left of the city guard and the Inquisition’s own forces.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “But if we don't our people on the other side of the Cassaro will perish!”

  He sighed. “I know, but hear me out. I‘ve been trying to work another solution: I’ve sent a message to whoever leads the new saints, asking for their help in establishing a truce.”

  I was appalled. “No!”

  Kurgar took great care with his next words, them coming out oiled and smooth, “I understand your anger, but let me explain.”

  I sat in silence – he could have his chance.

  “I've considered events, and wonder if this is an opportunity.”

  My father growled, “An opportunity!”

  Kurgar waved him down. “Yes, an opportunity! Listen, the Inquisition has been in control for a day, and already they’ve tried to outlaw the institutions that have run Ossard for years. They can't do it. We still exist despite their proclamation. They’re playing games, delusional and dangerous games. I'm more interested in what’s real...”

  My father interrupted, “Like the hundreds or thousands of our kinfolk stranded across the river?”

  Kurgar clenched a fist and pounded his desk. “Hundreds or thousands, what rubbish! The true figure is closer to ten thousand, and maybe half of them are already dead!”

  Gasps sounded from around the room.

  He went on, “We can't deny the possibility. We’ve no accurate number for how many of our kin live over there, the Guild stopped counting years ago, but we can see the flames. If we’re already taking losses in Newbank from city-side archers, as we are, I don’t hold out much hope for any of our people unprotected and alone over there.”

  Appalled, I whispered, “You’re giving them up!”

  He shook his head and growled, “Let me finish! The Inquisitor and Benefice have used the kidnappings as an opportunity to take control, but we can't let them succeed. We know what’ll happen if they do; at best they’ll dump us destitute across the sea in ravaged Fletland, and at worst they’ll try and finish the job the Lae Velsanans started two centuries ago!”

  Silence greeted his words, for we all feared that they held truth.

  He went on, “And you’re right to worry about this other faction. It’s chaotic out there, and their new saints dubious, but might they be open minded enough to accept us for who we are? If they’re prepared to defy the Inquisition and turn their backs on the Church’s dogma, might they also understand how those same limits restrain our own beliefs? All they want is freedom to worship, so why would it be such a leap for them to understand our own wish to follow our own faiths?

  “Think of it; the temples of our gods built in the streets, no more hidden chapels, whispered hymns, and clandestine gatherings.

  “This terrible moment in Ossard’s history could become everything we’ve ever wanted. We might even win the right for the Cabal to walk openly!

  “Let’s see what the followers of the new saints want; at worst it might be the same as the Inquisition, but it could be so much better. If we can work together in an alliance of mutual respect and benefit, perhaps we can create a new Ossard, one that fin
ally accepts our people.”

  The cabalist and priest beside him both stood lost in the promise of the idea. No doubt the thought of being able to walk openly in the streets, or of building real and visible temples sounded grand, but what of the darker side?

  I asked, “Aren’t you forgetting the kidnappings? You saw the bloody mess left behind from their ritual magic, how can you even contemplate this?”

  He shook his head. “Juvela, I understand the kidnappings are a terrible thing, but we don't even know for certain that they're behind them. I'll grant you it’s possible, but we're yet to see solid proof. However, we do know what the alternative under the whip of the Inquisition is. They'll be killing thousands; who knows how many are already dead!”

  Mauricio the Cabalist said, “To openly walk the streets!”

  Seig, the Kavist whispered, “To build a temple!”

  But all I could think of was my daughter and husband waiting to be slaughtered.

  My family!

  How dare they even consider an alliance! My voice threatened to break as I stood, disturbing the growing acquiescence to the Guildmaster’s idea. “I’ve listened, but can't agree. Right now I need to get my daughter and husband, that’s what’s important and right. You'll have to excuse me.” I turned and left.

  I didn’t realise how sick the whole idea made me feel until I reached the corridor. Yes, some kind of alliance might seem best for our people today, but what of tomorrow? How could you trust an ally that had risen to power murdering children?

  I walked down the passage listening to the dutiful footfalls of Sef behind me. His presence was reassuring.

  For now I pushed the matter from my mind. I had other things to think about. We’d prepare and go and get my family and anyone else being held. Right now that was what was important.

  When we reached the courtyard, Sef said, “I’ll go and gather my brethren.”

  I turned and saw my father standing beside him. He’d also left Kurgar’s office.

  I asked, “How much time do you need?”

  Sef smiled. “Not as long as you’d think. If you're ready to go just wait in the coach, I'll not be long.”

  My father begged, “Please, this is too dangerous, it’s madness!”

  “Not as mad as what they’re contemplating back there.”

  Sef kept quiet.

  “Juvela, you might be right, and Sef and I both agree with you, but going back into the city after dark and amidst this rioting is insane!”

  “I know it’ll be dangerous, but I have to try.”

  His voice broke, “You said you’d be more careful!”

  “If it was me locked up in a cellar at the age of four with Mother, you’d try and get us too!”

  He sighed. “Please, Juvela, just be careful.”

  Sef offered, “She’ll be well protected.”

  Father gave a reluctant nod and then embraced me before heading back into the Guildhall.

  Sef said, “I won’t be long.”

  I nodded, and then watched him disappear through the compound's gates into the alleys beyond. His absence would give me a moment to think on Kurgar’s words, so I went back to the coach, greeted Kurt, and then climbed into the cab to sit alone.

  Was I being selfish?

  I knew the answer to that, yet my doubts lingered.

  Would I have come to the same conclusion if my family hadn't been taken?

  Of course I would.

  The followers of the new saints looked to have links to the Horned God, but did I really know enough about such things to judge? My own faith in Schoperde was innocent and true, yet Heletians also classed her as a power of the dark. Was I just showing the same ignorance?

  Sweet Schoperde,

  goddess of life and mother of us all,

  losing a desperate war against Death,

  please bless me with guidance...

  My prayers were just words, empty wishes for wellness for myself and others, they always had been. What a whimsy. While faith in Schoperde remained common amongst the Flets, there was no longer any organised priesthood, not in Ossard at least – and that meant there were no divine blessings. Schoperde had been cut off from her believers.

  If a god was weakened and unable to provide for its faithful, it only discouraged new believers and even the old.

  Dear Schoperde,

  goddess of life and mother of us all,

  I wish for nothing but wellness for you...

  I sighed, my silent prayer drifting through my mind along with a rising feeling of hope and comfort.

  I’d done well...

  I laughed at the notion; as if a god needed my blessing!

  As if indeed!

  As my mirth faded, I became conscious of the sounds of the city. The other side of the river rang out with noise; the cries of fighting and the snap, crack, and roar of hungry flames. Crossing over to rescue Maria and Pedro amidst all this chaos would be risky, even foolhardy, but I did have to try. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.

  I’d follow Sef’s instructions, after all this was about battle – something of his world. We’d go and be careful, and I’d seek to let my stirring power loose if need be. In the end, I’d brave any risk to free my family.

  And, I wondered; what might happen if we also found Lord Liberigo? If he lived, could he try and reclaim control of Ossard? The Inquisitor and Benefice would have to listen to him, also Kurgar, and even the followers of the new saints.

  There was still hope for the city.

  I waited there in the dark of the coach, running so many things through my mind. The more my thoughts wandered, the more my frustrations deepened. My ability for witchery seemed stunted, yet the Inquisitor had said that the city's factions were scared of me.

  Why?

  I had no reason to believe anything Anton said, but I did about this. Too many times I’d felt my own power stir, generally when my emotions shifted. It was as though it lay trapped within me. If I was to make a difference to the fate of my family it had to be free to flow.

  I shook my head in irritation. Why did everyone else seem to know so much more about what I was, or what I was going through? Kurgar had said that I’d be trained, yet nothing had happened. They were just empty words that saw me sitting around waiting on other people’s favours.

  The coach door opened, it was Sef. “I've found them. They're just gathering what they need.”

  “How will we cross the river?”

  “Don't worry, it's all arranged.”

  I tried to smile, but it faltered amidst my doubts. I wondered; in going would I only succeed in getting myself killed?

  He sensed my unease. “What's wrong?”

  I shook my head, not sure where to start, but then settled for the obvious. “Why can't I do anything, I mean magically? I can see into the celestial and feel my power, but I don't seem able to release it...”

  He held up a hand to quieten me, but my frustration overwhelmed both my manners and patience. “Shouldn't I be able to start fires or turn people into toads?”

  “Juvela, these things take time. I'll admit that you're not following any normal path, but what's happening in Ossard isn’t normal. Perhaps you need to find your own way and not listen to the advice of others...”

  I snapped, “Don't say that! I've got nowhere by myself in twenty years, what makes you think I'll get anywhere now?”

  “Did your grandmother's book help?”

  “Not in the sense of enabling me to do anything. I think it's made me more acquainted with magic, more comfortable and sensitive to it, but it’s a book of true history, not a book of spells.”

  He sat down and closed the door. “And what of the power you feel?”

  I just shook my head in irritation.

  “What are your feelings about it?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you feel an affinity for anything, for anything of the Cabal?”

  “Like?”

  “Like el
ementalism; do you feel drawn to the elements?”

  “No, I don’t think so, but I’m not sure I understand.”

  He took my hands in his and patted them. “Where do you feel it, your power?”

  “In the celestial, in my soul.”

  He leaned forward. “And what of your grandmother, is she helping?”

  “I don’t really know.”

  “Sometimes you hear her voice?”

  “Yes, and the others with her, and sometimes even the crack and snap of angry flames.”

  He went on, “She can talk to you, so does she help or just look for opportunities to possess you like back at Market Square?”

  “Sometimes she gives me advice. I hear her words in my mind or have sensations that tell me to be careful. I think she could do more. I wish she would.”

  “Maybe it’s hard for her to talk with you?”

  “Perhaps. Look, I’m glad of her book. I’ve learnt something from it, even if it wasn’t what I thought it was going to be. It’s helped me understand the truths of the world, but not how to use my magic...” I shook my head as my words trailed off into confusion.

  “Juvela, do something for me tonight, and one thing besides trying to save your family?”

  “What?”

  “Open up to your magic – and not just with your heart, but also with your mind and spirit. What we’re going to do isn’t going to be easy. We’ll need any kind of help you can give, and I want you to offer it without any preconceived ideas.”

  I nodded, but remained unsure. “What are you saying; that I’m stopping myself from using my own witchery?”

  “Maybe, because perhaps you’re not a witch.”

  I just looked at him, and then started to shake my head. “Of course I am, I can feel the power and see into the celestial.”

  “So can members of the Sisterhood, spirits, the gods, and their priests.”

  I sat stunned by his words. I couldn’t be any of the first things he’d listed, but a priest?

  Sef watched the confusion run across my face. With tender care he stroked my hands and said, “All I’m asking is for you not to shut your mind to the possibilities. Such open mindedness could make all the difference – all the difference in saving your family.”