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

by Colin Taber

  And, as yet, hadn’t come – so they were still working!

  My link to Sef worked as a blessing in its own way. I knew that it would help him as it had during his imprisonment, but that wasn’t enough. I needed to do more. So, I lay there not daring to enter the celestial, but wishing all three of them – Sef, Anton and Fel – all the luck I could.

  I wished for the ship to be found without delay amidst cloaking shadow and mist. Once boarded, I prayed that they’d discover it woefully guarded, seeing them able to move quietly amongst a crew strangely sluggish and only capable this night of downing heavy drink. I pictured bottles that needed to be emptied by the crew, of dry thirsts that could only be quenched by the strongest liquor followed by a sleep almost as deep as death. I lay there, repeating it like a mantra, projecting it out and into the world.

  This was the way it would be, not just my wish!

  Time passed, increasingly punctuated by feelings delivered unknowingly by Sef. I felt his relief as they located the ship, and not long after the flurry of contradictory emotions as he killed a man on reflex. It was chilling.

  Later, I was again swamped by relief as they reached Anton’s cell. Such feelings were punctured by spikes of joy, misery and anger, all of them capped by elation as they finally escaped.

  Their success was enough to see me relax and fall back into sleep. Yes, I knew Anton was hurt, but I also knew that he lived, should survive, and was now free.

  -

  With the worst of my worries over Anton eased, I could now wrestle with other concerns. One that hung over me, despite my attempts to ignore it, was, of course, the cultist city a vale distant.

  Fallen Ossard.

  Once, I’d made it plain that the city needed to be liberated, declaring the cultists a plague that had to be removed. Well, that belief came back to haunt me, for not only did Pedro hold me to it, but others amongst my people, too – those who genuinely longed for their old homes and comforts.

  Deep down, they knew as well as me that the city was no longer as their memory framed it or what their hearts held it to be. Yet, when I’d been lost in my own darkness, fighting my rising addiction, they’d drifted away from the hope I’d represented and onto another; a false hope woven of nostalgic dreams.

  Lost in my own troubles, of a deep hunger that would’ve long ago won out if not for the numbing celestial aid of the Prince, I came to the realisation that I’d failed not just some of my people, but most of them. I should’ve done more with my time, not just basked in my relief when it finally came.

  Grenda could only guide me by offering her knowledge, but the Prince could do that and more. He’d dulled the ache of my dark hunger, something he’d achieved by smothering me in his own power. In truth, I wasn’t sure if by doing that – by embracing my very soul – that he might’ve actually been feeding my appetite with a small but steady trickle of what it craved, temporarily taming it.

  Had I been fooled into thinking I was in control?

  Regardless, the feeling it left me with was one without temptation and mostly blind to the celestial world. I was numb. It was something I hadn’t felt since I’d been overpowered by moonroot and delivered to Anton from the streets of Newbank. As strange as it may sound, such blankness came as a blessing.

  But, I wondered; what would happen if he removed his aid?

  -

  It was mid-morning the day after Sef had left, Pedro and I were in our room – Maria staying with Angela while Silva was away – when we had the discussion, or perhaps, argument, I should say. He was pushing ahead with his plans to fight in Ossard and was more determined than I’d seen him in years. In truth, his manner was closer to that of the night when we’d first met; of confident insistence.

  “We’ll talk to the Inquisition. I’ve seventeen hundred willing to go and fight.”

  Seventeen hundred!

  “Pedro, it’ll be suicide! The cults will use their magic to waste any attacking force. The Inquisition isn’t equipped for such a thing, they’re used to dealing with covens of secretive groups, not besieging cities!”

  “They’ll be here with support from King Giovanni and the whole of the Heletian League. Their eyes won’t be closed to what they face, within their numbers will be those skilled in such things. I’ll accept that they’re stubborn and arrogant, but they of all people should have an inkling of what they’ll come up against.”

  “They’ll fail – and if you go so will you!”

  He looked to me, his gaze challenging. “It’s true the cultists have their accursed sorcery, but the Inquisition has its own magic – and they’re not alone.” He didn’t go on, he didn’t need to: Ossard’s Rose would save him and his followers, that’s what he was thinking!

  I shook my head, but refused to admit what I should’ve; that I’d barely had the strength to bless Sef, let alone seventeen hundred others marching to war. Instead, I snapped, “The Inquisition doesn’t have enough magic and it’s too concentrated. The cultists have been behind their walls working their rituals for a whole season, who knows what they’ve brewed? To think that the Inquisition can arrive with a force of a few thousand, raise another from the local villages, and take the city is ludicrous. They need a real advantage, something unexpected!”

  He just glared at me.

  But it was another voice that answered, “Like a secret about the city’s wall and a strategy that’ll win the initiative?”

  We both turned to find Silva standing in the doorway.

  “You’re back,” I whispered.

  “Yes, and what I’ve missed! There’s a ship of the Black Fleet moored in the sound, along with a Lae Velsanan ship at our walls, and a Loyalist camp of thousands at the other end of the beach?”

  “The Inquisition has arrived to take back the city,” Pedro said.

  “What else, for I never saw Sef on the road?”

  “He left last night for Fletland – with Anton.”

  Silva bristled. “With Anton? So, the dog lives!”

  I answered him in a gentle tone, trying to diffuse his anger, “Yes, and is now a friend in our service.”

  His eyes narrowed. “You’ve a strange circle of friends!”

  I gave a nod and forced a smile.

  Silva frowned and then turned from me to his son. “And so we contemplate going to war, and in league with the Inquisition?”

  Pedro answered, “Yes.”

  I added, “We were discussing it.”

  “More the how of it, than if we actually should. There are many determined to go.”

  Silva’s face reddened; he’d obviously not forgiven the Inquisition for its ill-fated intervention in the city, not even a bit. Slowly, he regained his calm. “You know, I may not’ve found Sef, but I did discover something else.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “We heard rumours from people we met in the vale that the rulers of the city had begun rounding up Loyalists and what they called Patrinans; the followers of Ossard’s Rose.”

  “Go on.”

  “So, disguised, half my men and I entered Ossard to discover the truth.”

  I gasped. “What a risk!”

  He nodded. “And one paid for in blood, for I lost some of them the next day when we fled the city. Only two of us escaped.”

  I felt sickened. “You lost four men?”

  Pedro talked over me, “But you discovered something?”

  “Yes, the Fishing Wharves district has been closed off. After making some enquiries, I confirmed that they’d recently cleared it out and begun refilling it with what’s left of the city’s Loyalists and Patrinans. It’s where our people are being held.”

  I remembered; that was the district through which Sef and Anton had escaped. It hadn’t been closed at the time, but instead strangely quiet, as if emptied – made ready for an influx.

  “How many?” I asked.

  “Thousands. They’d only begun rounding them up and forcing them in a few days before I arrived. Perhaps there’s as m
any as ten thousand packed in there, a place of misery that can only be escaped if one accepts the New Saints or is willing to tempt the chill waters of the sound.”

  “What’s happening to them?”

  “It’s hard to know for certain because it’s so chaotic in there.”

  I sighed and said, “If only we could help.”

  Pedro looked to me. “But you can; take back the city and liberate them!”

  -

  Later that day we had visitors; a delegation from the Sidian robed in black. They came demanding to speak with me, wrapped in their formal garb and a crisp air of anger.

  Today, I’d be questioned about Anton’s escape and what we knew of it. We had nothing to fear, for within Marco’s Ruin we’d be safe. But this meeting would set the tone for future relations. It was our first true Inquisitorial visit.

  Baruna delivered the news of their arrival, as I again tried to change Pedro’s mind. I’d have preferred that he’d remained ignorant of their appearance and therefore been deprived of the opportunity to meet the delegation. Still, it was too late; they were here, and he knew.

  It was a cool day, but dry, so I asked them to be led to the lower terrace to meet us there. Baruna offered to arrange for a portion of it to be furnished with some benches and tables from one of the common rooms. I agreed, feeling it best to keep our guests out of the Prince’s halls. Not long after we were ready; Baruna and Kurt, Silva and Angela, and Pedro and me.

  Their party came to us looking dour and wary. There were six of them, guided by some of our own who watched over the gate. The first of them must have been Inquisitor Louis, for he was a big man and the only one wearing the same robes of office Anton had once worn. The others seemed to be scholars in the Church’s bureaucracy or perhaps still in training for their vestments.

  I stepped forward. “Welcome, I’m Juvela Liberigo...”

  Inquisitor Louis stopped short and cut off my words. “I know who you are; the Northcountry’s witch! And standing here surrounded by those you’ve enslaved to help rule over your primal coven!”

  Silva’s jaw tensed, his hands clenching into angry fists.

  “This is no coven, all here are free to come and go.”

  At my words, I saw Pedro’s lips twitch with the beginnings of a smile. He tried to suppress it, but it didn’t matter, it was too late. I’d said them, words I should’ve been far more careful in speaking.

  The door was open – and I felt as if I’d been widowed.

  I gathered my thoughts before continuing, “We’re here after surviving the horrors of Ossard and now seek only a life of peace.”

  “I know who you are and why you’re here: Let us dispense with arguments, for I grow weary of them – and they’re not why I’ve come.”

  I gave a curt nod. “What do you want?”

  “I am Inquisitor Louis and have come for the return of one of my Church’s own.”

  “And who would that be?”

  “You know who; Anton, himself disgraced and fallen.”

  “He’s not here.”

  Louis glanced to one of his fellows.

  An old man gave a slow nod.

  I took the opportunity to run with the truth, seeing as their celestial resources were being used to prove my words. “The last we knew of him was that he was on your ship, but his friend, Sef, left us last night swearing to liberate him.”

  “Someone did come to board the Sidian, that much is true.”

  “The two of them have been through much together. I don’t doubt that Sef would’ve tried to help Anton, even at the risk of his own life, but neither of them returned here. If they’re not on your ship, then I can’t help you. I don’t have them.”

  Inquisitor Louis again glanced at the older man, who again nodded. He then said, “That’s not all I’ve come about.”

  “What else then?”

  “Taking back the city.”

  Pedro shifted beside me – and surprisingly, Silva, too.

  Both of them wanted to be a part of this...

  With a shiver, I realised what a powerful symbol that’d be, something to help rally Loyalists and others from amongst my own people: The former Lord of Ossard and his son coming to take back their city!

  I managed to keep my face neutral. “Please, come and have a seat.”

  He gave a nod and led his party to one side of the table.

  At the same time, some of my people came forward with goblets of watered wine. One also placed bowls of fruit on the table; apples, green grapes and fat Evoran grimstons, both red and orange.

  I could see the fruit was a mistake, but the damage was done. The Inquisitor’s eyes – along with those of his party – bulged in surprise, for how could such a bounty of out of season fruit come to refugees camped amidst ruins in late winter? Inadvertently, we’d hinted at the secret of Grenda’s canyons.

  Distracting them, I began, “Let’s talk honestly, for we’re running out of time for anything else.”

  The inquisitor looked to me as he reached for some grapes. “Dishonesty seems to be a mark of your camp; wouldn’t you say?”

  I gave a dry smile. “It’s true to say that in regards to Anton we’ve not been honest with you, but it’s now a spent matter.”

  “So, why should we trust you?”

  “That’s a question for both of us: I remember a long and hard history, one built of much more than lies. It lays behind me and many of my people delivered by the Inquisition with blood and fire.”

  He considered his words. “I'll grant that there’s some truth in that.”

  “So, should we both put aside such grievances?”

  He gave a single nod. “It’s the only way for us to move forward.”

  I was surprised by his willingness. “Please, have a drink, enjoy the fruit, for it’s a rare thing. Let’s talk of bringing peace to the North.”

  Inquisitor Louis almost smiled, and with a quick dip of his head, did just that. “It’s our intention to marshal the bulk of our force in Minehead before moving down the Cassaro to Goldston and then on to Ossard. We will take the city by utilising physical strength in two ways. There will be, of course, an armed force coming down the valley, but another based on the Black Fleet will come at the city from the waters of the sound. The two forces will set the defenders into making quick choices, somewhere amidst which they will make mistakes. It is our goal, more than anything, to throw them off balance.

  “Besides our physical forces will also be those of the celestial. These will be used to leverage the advances of our physical forces and to counter the defence of the city in any way they can. Our casting assets, for the most part, will be spread across our forces on land and at sea, though one important element will be kept safe with a clear view of the entire city so that they may act swiftly to grab at any advantage.

  “That particular force will be made up of the best of our Sankto Glavos, and they will – as the city’s defences begin to succumb – charge into mounted battle. They are formidable, both skilled with the sword, but also very capable priests and inquisitors who can draw upon great power. They will move in and finalise the battle by seeking out and overwhelming any knots of resistance or command.”

  I was surprised at how much he revealed. It did sound like a solid plan, one with some agility and a simple yet clever strategy. Regardless, I still thought it doomed. To make it work, they just didn’t have enough of an advantage. “As I’m sure you know, the cultists will not wait to meet you in the field or fight fair. How can you counter the unexpected; the unleashing of ritual magic or the revelation of a hidden force, for example, a formation of Kavists blessed by their diabolical master into berserk blood-lust?”

  The Inquisitor put a grape into his mouth before answering, “We’ve considered the nature of this fight and the possibility of unorthodox tactics. Our conclusion was that such surprises are most likely to come from particular cults, such as what you’ve just described, not ritual magic.

  “Blessings e
mpowering whole units are what they’ll do, just as we will ourselves. That is in many ways what the Sankto Glavos will be watching for. Ritual magic is highly unlikely.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Ritual magic is a slow and difficult thing of layers and time. It’s not something that can be unleashed on the battlefield, as the chaos of the venue does not lend itself to such a thing.

  “Our plan is to strike quickly with whatever surprise we can manage, and to keep pushing that advantage. We will not be setting up camp outside the city walls and allowing them days to begin rituals that could counter our threat. The day we arrive at their gates is the day that we will breach them, thus our plan for attacks on two fronts with celestial support to maximise the possibility of breaking through. Whether we smash one of the three valley gates or land forces in their harbour or at the Fishing Wharves, we will still succeed.”

  For a moment, I could see some hope. The plan had merits and my biggest fear, of Kurgar unleashing ritual magic to wipe away the Inquisition’s force, had to some degree been put to rest: Ritual magic did take time to build, with layers of ceremony and sacrifice, it couldn’t be used in battle, not where you couldn’t control things like timing and paths taken by foes. Even if Kurgar could get the timing right, he wouldn’t be able to guess the exact location of his opponents if the force was split into three.

  Pedro leaned forward. “We will aid you.”

  The Inquisitor looked to him with a smile. “What can you offer?”

  “Nearly two thousand men ready to take back their homes.”

  “A worthwhile force. We would use them in the valley attack.”

  Pedro nodded, but it was now Silva who spoke. “We can also offer unique knowledge of the city that’ll help tilt the battle in our favour.”