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

by Colin Taber

  “Almost, but they’d been moved moments before we got to them.”

  He frowned. “I’m so sorry.”

  “We’ll try again.”

  “Do you know where they are?”

  “Not yet, but we’ll find them.”

  He nodded. “I wish you well with it, but now to other matters: Events are moving fast in the city, so I'll be brief. The messengers have returned. The Inquisitor will have no part in allowing Newbank to administer its own affairs. He has a simple demand; that we repair the bridge and prepare for the return of law and order.”

  Many in the room muttered.

  Kurgar went on, “On the other hand, the followers of the new saints are willing to work with us.”

  Some offered smiles at the news, the cabalist going as far as clapping his hands together and calling out a cheer.

  Kurgar nodded and resumed, “In fact, they’re urging us to join them in working to expel the Inquisition.”

  I held my tongue. He knew, as did the others, that I wouldn't be a party to such a thing, and that made me wonder; why did they humour me? Why even allow me to be present for this discussion? My father had a right to be here as a wealthy and influential man who put much time and coin into the Guild, but me? Sef was right; they wondered about me.

  I looked up to see the Cabalist gazing at me as if trying to get into my mind – he'd done it once before. The thought of it put me on guard. I slipped into the celestial and raised a shield to protect my soul. When that was done, I called up another layer, and then one more.

  Kurgar continued, “Most of you will have already heard that the Inquisition sent gangs into the port this morning. It seems they went in looking for shrines dedicated to the new saints, but they’ve been forced back amidst much bloodletting.

  “There’s a very real thirst for revenge out there, and many will die today. Strictly, no one is to cross the river. Those two sides won't just be rioting by dusk, they'll be at war.”

  A ban on crossing the river would stop my search!

  Sef half turned, waiting for me to dispute Kurgar’s words.

  As if in answer, the Guildmaster added, “Such a ban falls upon all of us. It’s our duty to our people, to better place us for what comes next...”

  I interrupted, but was determined to remain calm, “And what of my family?”

  “Things are moving to a head, we can all see it.” His tone came hard, making some in the room flinch. “You had your chance to save them, and despite a valiant attempt have failed. Do you really think another chance will present itself?”

  “Yes, I’ll get them.”

  His voice softened, “Juvela, I hate to be the one to say it, but we all know that they’re probably already dead.”

  I glared at him.

  “Juvela, we have to think of our people and not ourselves. I have more news this day, something I hope is nothing, but in truth is the real reason for the ban on crossing the river.”

  My father asked, “What other ill tidings could there possibly be?”

  Kurgar sighed with fatigue. “We've heard that there’s a rising sickness.”

  “Maro Fever?” A guildsman queried.

  Kurgar shook his head. “No, something different.”

  Silence took the room.

  He went on, “It's too early to say for certain how much of a danger it is, but with all the troubles in the city, Ossard could soon be ripe for plague.”

  Someone asked, “What is it?”

  “It’s a kind of pox, and it’s appeared in a Heletian slum in the east of the city.”

  My father asked, “You're right to say the city is weakened, but this is so sudden?”

  “The first case came to the attention of healers twelve or so days ago. It starts with a headache, and goes on to a mind-fever, one marked by delusions and some bleeding from the nose. At that point, the malady usually passes, but some go on to suffer small dark blisters.” He looked around the room. “For those so touched, about one in six, it foretells their death.”

  My father whispered, “The city is doomed!”

  I asked, “How far has it spread?”

  “Our sources talk of it being centred in a Heletian slum, mainly in one area, but with a new outbreak nearby. The first site is the worst affected where half a dozen have died.”

  “Where?” I asked.

  “Along the valley wall in the east, not near Newbank.”

  Sef voiced my own thoughts, “An Inquisition area?”

  Kurgar’s eyes widened with surprise. “I suppose so.” He shrugged. “Until we know more, I don't want anyone crossing the river.”

  There was a murmur of agreement.

  19

  -

  A Fourth Saint

  -

  That afternoon, I let Sef tend to his own business, while I finally got some sleep. I fell into bed exhausted, lost to slow and bitter tears.

  I wept for my missing daughter, who I loved so very much, but also for my husband, a man I’d once loathed, but now longed to see. Eventually I drifted off and found some respite. I needed that, that moment to rest and gather my spirits.

  When I later awoke it was midafternoon. I could have so easily just rolled over and closed my eyes, but instead I got up, planning to check on my parents.

  I walked the short distance, leaving Kurt behind in his quarters above the stables to watch over the house.

  I planned on a quick visit, one done to see how my mother was coping with all that was going on. It was there that I was when the news came, news that changed everything.

  Everything...

  I sat with my parents in their sitting room where we played at polite conversation and pretended that all was well. We talked of many things, but nothing of consequence, while we ignored the obvious topics of my stolen family, and the city, divided, burning itself slowly to the ground.

  Then Sef arrived.

  He burst in through the front door like a clap of thunder, earning a squeal from a maid. My mother opened her mouth to reprimand him, the help, but then she saw his obvious bewilderment. Instead, she asked, “Sef, whatever is it?”

  He looked to me while holding up a hand as he caught his breath. Finally, he said, “The followers of the new saints have proclaimed a fourth!”

  And the wail of horns sounded in the distance.

  I stood, shaking my head.

  He went on, “He's been named in the burning port, where his faithful are armed and dangerous, and readying to march to war!”

  My heart faltered; armed and dangerous? He couldn't mean...

  And a second set of horns blared in answer, sounding from somewhere much closer. The traditional instruments evoked images of the battle-scarred plains, lakelands, and deep forests of Fletland.

  Sef forced it out, “It's Kave! The Heletites across the river are claiming that he’s one of the new saints!”

  I gasped.

  “There's more; they're raising an army of Kavists, and they're on the other side of the Cassaro rallying their Flet brethren to war!”

  My father gaped in horror. “If you go, Newbank will be defenceless!”

  I said, “You can't, Kurgar has banned crossing the river.”

  Sef shook his head. “They say the Guild has retracted the ban. Regardless, fighters are already being ferried across!” His voice quaked with excitement, at once fearful, but also euphoric.

  “Proclaimed amongst the new saints? Sef, is this a trick, or are they willing to allow any faith into their reformed church? Will Schoperde be next?”

  And that was when I noticed the air’s growing edge.

  Sef shook his head, as veins stood out at his temples, and bulged about his neck. His eyes sparkled with excitement, while spittle flew from his lips. “Look into the celestial, look and see!”

  My perception dipped into that other world, and there it was; the change I'd felt. Divine blessings were again about.

  He called out the truth, while his hands clenched into trembling fist
s, “A rain of blessings! It's true! We’re raising an army to reclaim the city!”

  With his soul energised, I wasn't going to be able to stop him. Still, it was a chance to cross the river. “Sef, you’re free to go, but you need to take me.”

  “No! This is a sacred duty, a pilgrimage!”

  “I just need you to help me cross the river. Once done, I can search for Maria and Pedro behind your faithful line. Sef, you’ll be free of me to do what you need. I won’t have you mind me.”

  He wanted to refuse, and started to shake his head.

  I glared at him, making it plain there was only one answer I’d accept.

  In the end, desperate to get going, he gave in. “Alright, but I can only guarantee your crossing. On the other side, I won’t be serving you, but Kave.”

  My parents rose to protest, but we left them.

  -

  Sef and I hurried towards the river, from where cheers rose along with the wail of horns. We spotted Cherub on the way, the big Flet greeted Sef by taking him into a great bear-hug, the two of them sharing their euphoria. I was all but ignored.

  Moment by moment, they were both becoming more distant to me, and well and truly focused on the task at hand – Kave’s task.

  Thousands of Flets crowded Newbank's river shore, the mass thickest by the bridge. They cheered a group of Kavists at their heart, the big knot numbered in the hundreds. From there the warriors waited to cross the Cassaro by way of a dozen boats that ferried eager loads to the edge of St Marco’s Square. The landing Kavists wasted no time on arrival; they climbed the river-wall, waved their battle colours, and drew their weapons.

  Yet if Newbank presented a spectacle, the city-side did doubly so. On that other shore, tens of thousands of Heletians cheered a gathering of a couple of thousand devotees to Kave – they new, fearless, and raw.

  The Flet Kavists arrived to be embraced by their Heletian brethren. They gathered to kill together, to shed blood and battle, yet on their faces played nothing but joy.

  Watching it, I couldn’t doubt that Kave sanctioned this. His warriors held his glory in their eyes and his strength in their arms. Kave was of the new saints, and with that acceptance came a realisation; in the end, despite how honourably combat might be conducted, it was nothing but bloody violence with death at its core.

  Death...

  I’d been blinded to the truth by a childhood awash in tales that celebrated the bloody defence of Fletland. Somewhere in all that, while the defence was necessary, my people’s culture had become twisted so that we revered the bloodshed and tragedy, instead of the life it sought to protect.

  Today, the god of battle had come to Ossard and raised an army, and now he’d go on to expel the Inquisition. Kave didn’t do it because it was just, but because he wanted people dead. It was simple greed, nurtured and driven by the divine addiction of soul-feeding. He was in league with Death because of it, or more so, the great and mighty Kave was Death’s bitch.

  I was appalled.

  Truly, the goddess of life had no allies, and now the divine war spoken of in the Book of Truth had come to rage openly on my own home’s streets. And worst of all, Death would win here too.

  Unless someone stood against it.

  But how could you do such a thing without bringing more death – the very prize the war-gods sought?

  It seemed like a riddle, something frustrating and confusing, and for an answer I only had hope.

  There had to be others willing to make a stand?

  In a city that found its nights haunted by the sombre notes of Schoperde’s Song as surely as its days came veiled in smoke’s grey, there had to be more than a few souls who shared allegiance to the goddess of life. If they were out there, I’d have to find them.

  That realisation stirred another, one built of chilled whispers.

  Grandmother hung close by.

  I'd still not talked to her. Now, while being put into a boat with Sef and Cherub, didn’t seem ideal, but it’d just have to do. So I passed my perception from one world to another.

  I called into the celestial, “Grandmother!” And thus began my search.

  Her cold blue spirit, gaunt and neglected, soon appeared. It seemed she was always close by. Long strands of spectral hair stormed about her illuminated face, rising like a halo in contrast to the dark pits that were her eyes. It gave me caution, especially after sighting her other halo.

  Faint enough to be almost missed, scores of skulls circled her with each of them joined to her by a thin, silvered chain. They stared at me, and in an instant I knew them; it was the chorus of whispered voices I'd so often heard, the innocents who’d perished with her at The Burnings.

  What had she become?

  I’d been told that she’d once been a caring woman, wife, widow, and mother, but that was a lifetime ago.

  She was changed.

  I looked into the deep pits that should have held her eyes, but they only gaped darkly at me. “Greetings, Grandmother.”

  She gave a curt nod. “And to you, Granddaughter.”

  “You’ve watched over me all my life, haven't you?”

  “Yes.” She smiled afresh, but in the blue hues of the celestial, such a thing held no warmth.

  “I'm no Cabalist.”

  She nodded. “I’d hoped you were, but it’s not to be.”

  “I’m aligned to the gods, to Schoperde.”

  Her smile faded. “I’m surprised.”

  “Why?”

  She sneered. “Because I thought Schoperde only took virgins, and not sluts who gave themselves away at the first sign of a gifted drink!”

  The comment hurt, but I didn’t reply.

  She waited.

  I said, “I don’t have time for insults.”

  She studied me and then relented. “I apologise for the slight.”

  “It’s alright, I’ve greater burdens.”

  She nodded. “I've been here a long time and it’s not been easy.”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  Again, she nodded. “This would’ve been easier if you’d been a witch, but I guess I have to live with that.” She sniggered at her own joke. “And of Schoperde as well! A pleasant calling, but with no real power.”

  I waited.

  She shrugged, a movement that stirred her haunting skulls. “Juvela, I’m more friend than foe. Over time I’ve lost my chance to be reborn, but I can wander, yet this realm isn’t safe. I can’t survive it by myself. I need to stay near you.”

  “Me?”

  “Don't act surprised, you know that you’re special – you've had a whole morning of your hulking bodyguard telling you that very thing. He's right. Your soul is old and powerful, and being near it gives me sanctuary.”

  “How?”

  “Your untapped power keeps the sad predators of this place at bay. They hunger for it, but it’s so strong and pure that it’s poisonous to them, and that keeps them back. Me, perhaps because of our shared bloodline, I can get close and shelter in your soul’s glare.” Her face fell into a grim smile, something ominous. “And for that I’m grateful, it’s given me a lair.”

  Her words chilled me.

  “Juvela, only one thing overrides my concern for you, and that’s my hunger for revenge. I want to kill that dog, Anton, and as many of his brethren as I can. I want to drag him from the mortal world and torment him, I want to shred his soul and twist it, I want to curse it and piss in it, and then I want to scatter its ruins to the feeders and see him lost to Oblivion!”

  “It’s true that he’s a man with blood on his hands, but my priority is my family, then my people, and then my city. Do you understand?”

  Reluctantly, she nodded.

  I regarded her. “Will you hinder me?

  She shook her head, setting the skulls about her to shift and their empty eyes to flash. “Juvela, I'll work with you.”

  And that would just have to do.

  -

  My perception returned to the real world, where
I found myself packed between Kavists on our cramped river crossing. The men and women about me were restless, some talked quietly while others prayed. A few glanced at me with questioning looks, but most accepted me, knowing of my respected family and having heard of my part in the opera house raid.

  Our boat reached the opposite shore to grind against the river-wall, as Kave’s newest followers called out greetings from above.

  Sef went up first, then me. I waited beside him for Cherub, uncomfortable amidst a crowd of blessing-drunk Heletians. Watching them in this exuberant moment, I couldn’t help but wonder at how many of them had spent the previous day looting Flet homes.

  I slipped part of my perception into the celestial to see this strange moment in both worlds. The darkness of the void didn't show in that double vision, only the luminescence of souls and magic.

  The glowing bolts of the first blessings that had initially energised the Kavists, Flet and Heletian, had now faded away. The battle god had finished bestowing them, but now prepared to gift a second wave.

  Scores of deep blue lights began to race across smoke-dimmed skies. They only got faster as they sought out the souls of a select troop, and then, one by one, they found them.

  The gifted power set the hearts of the chosen racing, crazing their minds, and flushing their eyes red. Of all the blessings I’d so far witnessed, this one came promising to be the most violent. In it Kave bestowed nothing but bloodlust, anger, and the hunger to see all life bowed. This was his blessing of ultimate glory; to be made, for a time, one of his Berserk Guard.

  His so-blessed warriors drew their weapons, arched their backs, and growled out deep and loud battle cries.

  The Kavists about me cheered their honoured fellows, while Flets continued to climb up the river-wall, and into the arms of their Heletian counterparts. They sang and cheered together, lost in their strange joy. Watching it all, I wondered if the Inquisitor had any idea of what would soon be coming for him.

  Soon enough, their cheers began to fade and give way to a rising chant. It boomed rhythmic and rough, banged by fist on armour. It rolled out to dominate the river districts with its simple tones, and in it Kave’s faithful prayed for success, honour, and yet more power.