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

by Colin Taber

  It was dim and quiet, with far too much of the space about me lost to shadow. A string of glowing orange-rimmed holes smouldered along the floorboards, they’d been born from where I’d dripped molten rock as I’d been dragged inside. None of it had caught to come aflame – and in that we’d been lucky.

  One of the Kavists had lit a lantern he’d found, but here on the backstage, amidst countless rows of props and backdrops, anything could hide. Simply, we needed more light.

  I took a deep breath and tried to grapple with some of the power still churning away within me. This time I had no rock, instead I grabbed a handful of coins from a prop treasure chest – they were wooden.

  I closed my hands over them and prepared to make them glow, but not in the way I'd unconsciously ignited the stone. I released some of my power amidst thoughts of the moon’s silver-blue light. My hands tingled and the air cooled: It was done, whatever it was.

  I hesitated in revealing it, so much so that I whispered a quick prayer to Schoperde before opening my cupped hands. And there the coins were, shining, but without the heat and glare of the cobblestone.

  It was good.

  I grabbed more and charged them, yet after a while my head began to ache. It left me wondering at my limits.

  Limits...

  To my mind, I'd still done nothing worthy of being burnt at the stake for. I needed to try harder things, yet now was no time for experiments.

  I scattered the coins around the backstage and passed on handfuls to the Kavists so they could better light their own way.

  It wasn't long before we'd covered the backstage, the main stage, and the dressing rooms. Still, even with the light of the coins and an increasing number of lanterns, far too many shadows remained.

  I followed Sef through the curtains and onto the stage. The light we had with us barely reached the first few rows of benches. I charged another handful of coins and threw them out into the dark. I sighed and said, “We’d need fifty men to search this place.”

  Sef answered, “Yes, and more to defend it. It’s too big. We'll get straight to the cellar and then out.”

  We both stood there looking at row after row of seating and the shadows that waited beyond.

  He said, “You could hide a hundred people out there, and that’s without any kind of magic.”

  As if in answer, the roof beams above creaked. Was it just the movement of the building, perhaps the wind, or someone up there hiding amongst the rigging? Could Mortigi's followers have found a way in, and even now be creeping about searching for fresh kills? Aside from the faint outlines of rafters and dangling ropes, the detail of the heights remained a mystery. Sef was right; we had to concentrate on getting to the cellar, and then out.

  He said, “Don't worry, if they're here we'll find them.”

  His presence was reassuring, as it always had been.

  He called out for two Kavists to watch the theatre hall as we returned to the backstage.

  Cherub came looking for us moments later. The big man said, “Found it, it’s back here!” And he pointed down a coin-lit passage.

  My heart raced, something only doubled when Sef smiled and patted me on the shoulder. He gathered five Kavists and set the rest on watches.

  Cherub led us down the dusty and worn corridor made narrower by racks of covered costumes on one side. Half way along we came to a door that had a sign above it. I couldn't read, but guessed it said cellar as Sef and Cherub both swapped knowing glances.

  I whispered, “Did you go in?”

  His voice rumbled, “It's locked, so I thought I'd get some help.”

  Sef nodded. “Alright, let’s get ready. Juvela, stand back and let them through.”

  Reluctantly I stepped back.

  They bowed their heads in prayer, the whispered chant the only sound to disturb the quiet.

  For the first time since leaving Newbank, I began to feel uneasy. We were so close, but it could all still go so wrong. A panicked guard might use them as hostages, or shields, or even kill them. Maybe even now the cultists rushed through their ritual.

  The anxiety building within me nearly won out, almost making me cry for Sef and his fellows to stop. Before I could say a thing, though, Sef nodded, and Cherub rammed his shoulder into the door.

  It didn't stand a chance.

  The door exploded in a shower of snapping planks and splinters, its ruins following him as he charged down the stairs and into the dark. He carried his sword in one hand while the other flung my charmed coins about.

  If the big Kavist’s arrival hadn't brought enough chaos to the cellar, the others who followed him certainly did. They all cried out, and showered wooden coins about, while carrying their swords ready.

  I slumped against the wall unable to watch.

  Sef gave me a sympathetic look, but it faded along with his cool confidence.

  Something was wrong...

  He turned to the doorway as his brow furrowed and nostrils flared.

  I could smell it too.

  Death...

  The yelling died down beneath us as disappointment soured its tones.

  Sef called out, “Well?”

  Cherub answered, “They’ve gone!”

  Sef led me down. “Watch the door.” Its ruin lay strewn the length of the stairs.

  I descended fearing what I’d find at the bottom. Before I reached it I was trembling and covered in a cold sweat.

  The kidnap victims had been there and two of them still were – dead.

  It wasn’t Pedro and Maria or Lord and Lady Liberigo, so I let out a selfish sigh of relief. The unfortunates were Heletian; an old woman and a young man. I didn’t recognise them. They’d been left hung from chains and their throats slit.

  Piles of flattened hay lined one of the damp cellar walls. It had been used as bedding. I walked its length until I reached a corner. Somehow I could sense who'd lain there; my husband and daughter. Dropping to my knees I put a hand to it.

  It was still warm!

  Tears flooded my eyes.

  So close!

  Amidst my disappointment came something cold and bitter, it whispering to me with a celestial voice, “They were still there when you were showing off in the alley.” It was Lady Death.

  My heart sank.

  While I'd been using my meagre skills against her hunting pack, my daughter and husband had been spirited away.

  In a hoarse voice, I said, “Let's get out of here. They may have planned a trap.”

  Sef nodded, but got some of his fellows to search the room for anything of import while he led me back up the stairs.

  We withdrew and fell back through Ossard’s alleyways. Sef and four others took me back to the river, and then saw me safely across to home.

  Before they left me to rejoin their brothers, Sef said, “Juvela, the search hasn't ended. I’ll watch for them tonight. We’ll begin afresh if we have to tomorrow. Have faith.”

  I stepped forward and embraced him. “Thank you Sef, be careful.” The move embarrassed him, but he didn't fight it. After a moment he even returned it with feeling.

  “Take care, Juvela, and eat before you retire. Your castings will have drained you.”

  I nodded and watched them leave before turning to go inside.

  My home was cold and quiet. The maid wasn't about or her belongings. Like so many others, it seemed she was frightened of me and had fled. After walking the abandoned halls with only the rhythm of my footsteps for company, I retreated upstairs.

  My bedroom only seemed emptier.

  I sat on the edge of my bed and tried to kick off my boots, only to end up wrestling with them. The effort made me angry – and then came the tears.

  Eventually I found myself barefoot on the balcony in the cold night air. I needed no goading to join the chorus that rang out across Newbank; Schoperde's song of sorrow.

  It felt good singing its long and mournful notes. Through it I burned away some of my grief and disappointment, and rediscovered my resolve.
I would find my family, I had to, and I’d discover how they'd been moved moments before our arrival.

  How did they know we were coming?

  17

  -

  Momentous Times Indeed

  -

  Eventually, I left the balcony and sat on my bed where I cradled my grandmother's tome. I was exhausted, but still fell into a restless urge to search for my family, to at least do something. From there I dipped my perception into the next world and began to search through a city-state of a million souls. I started the hunt at the celestial equivalent of the opera house, and then spread towards the port and the south.

  It was tedious work involving far too many souls – still, I persisted. I also supposed whoever held them would be using some kind of shielding magic to keep them hidden, as they had before. Nevertheless, I continued.

  -

  Sef roused me from my hopeless search midmorning, to drag me from its misery. Of them, I’d not found a hint.

  “Juvela, don't fret, we'll find them,” he said grave-faced.

  My eyes burned from my tears. I’d also become cramped and lost to shivers, something that saw my voice shake, and my breath wheeze. All of it only made Sef fuss over me like my mother.

  With a hoarse voice, I said, “Sef, I'm alright!”

  “You look terrible...”

  “Really Sef, I'm just a little tired.”

  “You haven't eaten, have you?”

  “No.”

  “Or slept?”

  “No.” So lost in my misery, it hadn't occurred to me. My stomach growled. I tried to laugh at its timing, but the sound came from me as a weak rattle that sent aches shooting through my chest.

  “Juvela, you have to understand that magic is a taxing thing. I know what you did last night might seem simple, but I could feel the power you gathered, and the way it surged and boiled.” He knelt down in front of me with concern in his eyes. “You keep a great well of power in there,” he pointed to my belly, “but crafted only the smallest portion of it. To do so, to gather such energy and not spend it, or recover by properly resting and eating, will only see you waste away.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Wasn’t casting magic all about other people suffering the consequences?

  He saw my confusion. “Juvela, the power’s corrosive, so much so that only a healthy body can withstand it. If you’re half-starved and tired, it’ll work away at your muscles and bones, it’ll even boil your blood away given the chance. It becomes a cycle, one that’s harder to recover from. If you’re not careful, it’ll kill you by burning you out.“

  I nodded; what he said made sense, even if I didn’t appreciate the gravity of his words.

  He saw that, and shook his head in anger. “Please, Juvela, you must be careful! You're no ordinary magician...”

  And that comment got my attention.

  He went on, “I don't know what you are, but I can feel such strong currents of power around you when you reach into your font. If you're not careful, it'll kill you; just look at your hands!”

  What about my hands?

  I looked down at them.

  My long fingers normally lay thin and fair, and well covered with skin stretched not too tight. They weren't now. I spread them before me as they trembled, my body lost to some kind of shock. Wrinkles ran their length, and the skin hung loose with folds and creases deep in the thin flesh, yet that wasn’t the end of it. I could see liver spots and other shadows, and a mix of sickening colours finished with yellowed nails.

  I gasped.

  Sef looked me in the eye. “Have I got your attention now?”

  I nodded, horrified by the hag's hands in front of me.

  “We’ll get you some breakfast, and then we must go.”

  My hands were reaching up for the flesh of my face, but I was already cringing at the wrinkles and folds I knew I’d find there. I whispered, “Go where?”

  “Juvela, you need to change and eat. Don’t worry, you’ll get your youth back, and sooner than you think. Please, just do as I say. I’ll answer your questions downstairs.”

  I nodded, still stunned. “Thank you, Sef.”

  He got up and left me.

  -

  I went downstairs to find him stirring a pot of porridge over a freshly lit fire. He looked up and smiled. “It won't be long.”

  “Thank you.” I sat down, grateful to rest my weary bones.

  “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

  “Exhausted.” It seemed that the casting had taken a lot out of me.

  My gaze left him to settle on the cooking fire, where I lost myself in the dance of its flickering flames.

  “You really are tired, aren’t you?” His smile became a grin.

  I rested my head in my withered hands. “I’m glad you find it so amusing.”

  To my surprise, he laughed. “I’m sorry, but I’m as confused as you.”

  “You are not!” I snapped, and then took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Sef, but I don't understand any of this.”

  “It’s alright.”

  I smiled, grateful he’d chosen to ignore my tone. “Sef, why has it taken so much from me, to produce so little? Last night, I could feel a storm of power brewing in me, but all I magicked was a bucketful of glowing coins and handful of hot coals?”

  He tended the oats before pulling up a stool. “Juvela, all power comes at a price. To be honest, I worry for you.”

  “Why?”

  “A good question, but one I can't answer.” He shook his head in frustration, though he felt only a trifle of what troubled me.

  “Sef, I need your help. Tell me what you can, even guesses, for it's more than I already have.”

  He sighed. “I don't know where to start, so indulge me.” He gathered his thoughts for a moment, and then said, “I guess your own words are a good starting point.”

  I nodded.

  “You said that you felt your power brewing?”

  “Yes.”

  “I could feel it too, as could anybody sensitive to such things. You need to learn more discipline in that regard, so you can hide it, just as those of us who wield the celestial learn to hide our souls.”

  “Why?”

  “To keep them safe.”

  “From what?”

  He checked the oats before continuing. “The celestial is another world, but not like ours. It's where magic comes from, and where spirits, souls, and the very gods dwell. It’s where the spark of life is born to flare, and we in this world, our mortal selves, are merely the smoke of those eternal fires.”

  “I think I understand.”

  He nodded. “The magic you work, as do I as a priest of Kave, is just us pulling some of that fire through, not just the smoke, but the actual flame. It’s a skill for only the strongest of souls. Simply said; the more power you can pull through, the stronger you must be. Learning and experience will expand your limits, but in the end we all have them.”

  “I understand.”

  He went on, “I’m surprised at the amount of power you can draw upon, even though you know so little of what to do with it. I suppose in time you'll learn, but still, what you can gather astounds me.”

  “Learn through the Cabal?”

  He looked thoughtful for a moment, until the pop and hiss of our breakfast drew his attention. After giving it a stir, he turned back. “I first noticed your soul when I started working for your parents. It's old and powerful, and always held a complex weave.”

  “Am I a Cabalist?”

  He shrugged, “I don't know. Perhaps you need to talk to others...”

  I snorted. “Others! Sef, my parents know nothing of this, and I can't trust anyone else. I can't rely on my grandmother, as her aid is sporadic, and Kurgar promised to help me with the Cabal, but has done nothing since. If I've a powerful soul, then you'd think it might be a priority, the way the city is falling apart, to teach me how to use it!”

  He grabbed two bowls and split the steaming brew. He handed one to me, t
he biggest, and then topped it with some syrup. “Eat up, all of it.”

  I took it, but only felt bad again for my tone. “Sorry, Sef.”

  “It's alright.”

  We began to eat.

  After a short silence, he looked up and said, “What about your grandmother? What’s going on? I saw what happened when we neared the Inquisitor and she tried to use you to confront him. Is she always struggling for control?”

  “No!” I was surprised at his choice of words. “I sometimes hear her voice warn me of things, and often it comes accompanied by others. Only once has she tried to force me to do anything, back then in the coach. I think she wants to help me, to awaken my magic, but Inquisitor Anton's arrival has also awakened her thirst for revenge.”

  He gave a grim smile. “We'll just have to watch her. It would also help if you tried to talk to her.”

  “How?”

  “In the celestial. You know how to get into that world, to drag your perception across?”

  I nodded. “I can do it, but I'm not really conscious of how I do it. It seems more a reflex.”

  “That's good; it took me a full season to master. When you've time, you need to go into the celestial and speak with her. She's bound to you, so I'm sure she'll not be hard to find. Talk to her and discover her truth. It's the only way to work out what her part in all this is.”

  I sighed as I put down my half empty bowl. “And what will that do to me?” I asked, while spreading my wrinkled fingers, though their colour had already improved.

  “All magic has its costs, but shifting your perception between worlds is one of the easiest things to do. When you finish your meal, you'll be surprised to see how much your skin will renew itself.” He gave a wry smile. “The years will just fall away.”

  I raised an eyebrow, not sure if I should believe him, yet I picked up my bowl and got back to eating.

  “Juvela, you gathered enough power last night to torch Market Square, but you didn't release it. It's a miracle that you didn't burn yourself out – and I mean that literally. That’s why you look as worn as you do.

  “You need coaching, guidance, and improved skills, all those things will help. Most importantly, you need to learn to gather only the power you want for whatever casting you're trying to complete.”