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

by Colin Taber

  “What knowledge?”

  “About the valleyside city wall.”

  Louis shook his head. “We were not planning on breaching the wall itself, just taking one of its gates, for we know that the timber of them is old, dry and weak.”

  “Yes, but if you feign a focus on the walls and gates, you’d see the defenders rally their forces there. Such a defence could be made redundant if you were to then enter the city from elsewhere, from another gate, a hidden gate.”

  Chapter 24

  -

  A Brotherhood Complete

  -

  Sef looked to his friend as he pulled back on the oars.

  Anton sat quietly as he nursed his bandaged hand and stared into the night’s mist, back to where, unseen, the Sidian lay moored.

  The escape had worked well, very well in fact. They’d been lucky, yet the silence from Anton disconcerted Sef. Finally, he asked, “Are you alright?”

  Anton looked to him, his face softening as it took on something of a smile in the dim light. “Not quite, but I will be – just give me time.”

  Sef nodded.

  “I hoped you’d come, but didn’t dare believe you would.” Then, as his smile bloomed, he chuckled. “Oh, thank you, Sef!”

  Sef laughed softly, glad to have his friend back. “There’s a blanket in each of the bags, why don’t you pull one out and wrap yourself.”

  Anton did so. “Where are we going; not back to the ruins?”

  “No, Juvela has something else in mind: We’re leaving on an errand that both needs to be done and will keep you safe.”

  Anton gave a wry smile. “I didn’t realise she cared so much.”

  “Can you guess where?”

  Anton lost his good humour. “Where else can it be, but to seek out her divine sister, Dorloth.”

  Sef nodded. “So, we’ll return to Fletland, a place neither of us ever wanted to see again. From there we trek up its rivers to its lakelands, through its forests, over the Varm Carga, and then down into the jungles in search of the troith of Quersic Quor.”

  “And into the very ruins of the Second Dominion.”

  “Yes, the dark heart of blighted Kalraith.”

  Anton was quiet for a moment. “What are we to do once we get there?”

  “We’re to announce the awakening of her sister – and ask for aid.”

  “I see.”

  Sef’s brow furrowed. “Don’t you feel up to it?”

  “No, it’s not that. I can see why she’s picked us; both natives of Fletland, both with knowledge of the celestial, but I wonder what Dorloth will think of us and the news of divine kin?”

  “What do you mean; surely she’ll be pleased?”

  “Perhaps, or suspicious to discover a rival?”

  Sef frowned, but rowed on in silence.

  -

  It wasn’t until the eastern sky began to lighten that they spoke again. It was Anton who broke the silence, as their boat cut through the thinning fog to reveal that they were nearing the sound’s northern headland. “Surely we’re not going to row all the way to Fletland?”

  Sef pulled on the oars again as a smile came to his face. “No, we’ve planned a much easier crossing: We’re to find a place to hide on the head and await Felmaradis. He’ll come for us with his ship, and then take us across the Northern Sea before setting us back in a boat so that we can make our own landing. Once in Fletland, we’ll prepare for our trek, and then make our way as best we can.”

  “It seems that you’ve got it all planned. How long have you known about this little jaunt?”

  Sef’s voice lost some of its confidence, “I think Juvela knew that someone would have to go eventually, and now seemed like a good enough time because we needed to rescue you.”

  “Needed to?”

  “Well, I said I’d go and do it by myself if I must.”

  “Sef, you’re a true friend.”

  “I was worried that they’d move you to another ship at the heart of the Black Fleet. If they did, we’d never be able to find you.”

  “Yes, they would’ve – when Louis had finished playing with me.” Anton looked to his bloodied bandages. “I’m very grateful.”

  Sef found it hard to take his own gaze from the horrid dressing. Finally, he asked, “Does it hurt?”

  Anton swallowed. “Yes, but not like it once did.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get there earlier.”

  “Sef, that you came at all is a gift. In any case, this was done during the dying light of day. You couldn’t have stopped it. Let’s just be grateful that they cared for the wounds.”

  “They cared for them?”

  “Well, not gently. They sealed them with flames.”

  Sef winced.

  With a weak smile on his face, Anton reached across with his good hand and patted Sef on the knee. “Don’t trouble yourself, my friend. You did more than you should have by coming.”

  “But I came too late.”

  “No, too late would've seen me lost to the heart of the Black Fleet.”

  “Oh, Anton...” the big Flet’s words trailed off.

  Anton forced a smile. “Anyway, it’s my fault. I’m sorry I ran off and got imprisoned without you.”

  Sef chuckled and lost some of his sombreness. “Silly outleaguer, I should make you row all the way to Fletland!”

  And at that they both laughed, if but weakly.

  Sef brought the small boat around to a small series of rocky overhangs and caves. Above them the stone and soil of the headland loomed, craggy and worn by the elements. The swell wasn’t much, but came larger than it had been in the depths of the sound, so much so that Sef had to be careful as he guided the boat into each small cave or under each overhang, looking for a place to hide.

  The first overhangs were not very deep, and some so low that they were unable to get in them without ducking under the rough granite overhead. The first cave showed more promise, and with a spot behind a large boulder where the boat could be tied up and not seen from outside – but only just. The downside was that it had no place for them to easily get out and onto the rock of the headland so they could find a better place to rest.

  For now, they needed to keep looking.

  Sef said, “If we have to we’ll sink the boat and get ashore where we can. The important thing is for us to escape discovery by the Black Fleet if it mounts a search, and to be in a good place to wait for Fel.”

  “I can’t swim, so don’t be too eager to sink our pleasure barge.”

  Sef looked to his friend; Anton was pale with dark rings marking his eyes. “The more I see of you, the more certain I am that even if you could, you’re in no condition to swim. If we need to get into the water I’ll help you. Don’t worry about it.”

  The next cave they found was not as deep, but held a hooking turn at its back. As they explored it they found that it finished at a short water-filled tunnel that led through to a neighbouring cave. Both caves were shallow and didn’t seem to be good places in themselves to hide, little more than generous overhangs buffeted by the swell, but the passage between them gave space to jam the boat. The other cave also had a stepped tumble of rock at its mouth, giving them a way to get out and up onto the headland. With daylight growing they decided to try it.

  Sef discovered that the water in the cave wasn’t much more than waist-deep. He helped Anton out and tied the boat to a spill of rocks before gathering some of the gear they’d brought, and then helped Anton wade across to the stones at the cave’s mouth. “See, you’re swimming!”

  “Like a mermaid.”

  They clambered onto the stones to begin their ascent, the lowest rocks slippery with weed. The path was not impossible, yet rose in steep twists that connected various ledges. It looked somewhat hopeful.

  They climbed on, taking it slowly. Occasionally, they’d have to backtrack as they found themselves rising along what seemed to be the best path, only to discover a dead end. Finally, after a dozen false starts, the
y came to the top of the headland and a carpet of turf.

  Sef threw down some blankets in a spot sheltered from the wind and prying eyes by a line of rocks and shrubs. Both of them, tired from their exertions, collapsed upon them. From there, under the meagre warmth of the new day’s sun, Anton looked out at the view as Sef handed him some bread, cheese and a water bag.

  “So, what now?” Anton asked.

  “We wait and rest.”

  “Good.”

  “I’ll also check over your hurts.”

  “I’m alright.”

  “Just eat up and show me your wounds. Think of it as your punishment for going off and getting imprisoned without me.”

  Anton wore a grim smile. “Yes, what was I thinking!”

  Sef looked him in the eye, his gaze serious. “I’d say that today you might have been taken back to the Black Fleet.”

  “I think you’re right.” Anton sat up and then began to pull off his shirt. It was an awkward, one-handed struggle, but Sef could see that, by the set of his friend’s jaw, the former inquisitor was determined to do it by himself. As the bloodstained shirt came away, Anton revealed bruises along his arms and a series of cuts across his chest. “I imagine that once I was back at the heart of the fleet and with my seniors, that I’d have lost some teeth and maybe an eye as they prepared me for my questioning.”

  Sef nodded as he opened a set of small leather pouches, retrieving some herbs and clean rags. “If you’d prefer, I could get you back in the boat and out to meet them?”

  Anton laughed. “And miss a trip to Fletland? I wouldn’t hear of it!”

  Sef smiled. “Now, watch out, this’ll sting.”

  Anton howled.

  -

  Anton slept fitfully under the cool of the winter sun. All the while, Sef watched over him – and the surrounding waters, where the sound joined the wide expanse of The Wash.

  Sef was pleased with the elevated view they had of both water and land. No ship had sailed to or from the sound, and the gathering Black Fleet remained visible far in the distance to the west. He’d also scouted out the land behind them, but there was nothing to see but brush, pasture, and the occasional thicket of stunted oleander biding its time as it waited for spring. For now they were safe, and they’d spot anyone that might approach. That was enough, all they could ask for in fact – that, and a continuance of fair weather.

  The day passed into night, and with it the temperature fell. Clouds rolled in, so they spent the night wrapped in blankets while watching the sky for rain, and the sound for Fel’s ship. Neither came.

  Anton asked in the heart of the night, “There doesn’t seem to be any sign of a search?”

  “No, I guess they figured we went back to the ruins.”

  “I suppose, but what of that? They won’t ignore such a thing?”

  “No, they won’t, but that’ll be for Juvela to deal with. They’ll be safe while Fel’s moored there; any danger will come when he leaves.”

  “Will he come tonight?”

  “Only if he thinks it wise. His crew will do what he commands, but they’ll not be fond of helping middlings, so we’re not to speak with them any more than required.”

  “Is he taking a risk?”

  “His orders have some latitude, but this will be quite a liberty.”

  “So, why’s he doing it?”

  “I don’t know for certain: Part of it’s to talk to you about the Inquisition and what it’s likely to try in the retaking of Ossard, but I think there’s also other factors driving him.”

  “Such as?”

  Sef looked wistful. “He seems to have a real affinity for Flets – and perhaps even Juvela.”

  “I saw something of that.”

  “Yes, it’s as though he longs to be one of us.”

  “Or to rectify the wrongs of the past?” Anton offered.

  “Whatever it is, he’s a noble man.”

  “That’s something not many Flets would say of a Lae Velsanan.”

  “Indeed.”

  They ate some of the food Sef had brought, enjoying a meal of dried fruit, bread and smoked meat.

  Anton asked, “How much food do we have?”

  “Enough for three days.”

  “Will we have to wait that long?”

  “Maybe, but not longer.”

  “Does Fel know what we go to do?”

  “No, he thinks we’re running a message to Fletland. He knows nothing of our true purpose to enter ancient Kalraith. The Lae Velsanans have always shown great caution when it comes to the gargoyles, it’s as though they’re scared of them.”

  Anton observed, “And they don’t shirk from much.”

  “No, not at all – including risking war with the Heletian League.”

  “There’s something to learn there, perhaps a sense of the power that brews at the heart of Kalraith?”

  “There are so many rumours, who knows the truth?”

  “A good number of those rumours come from Fletland. If anyone should know at least some of it, it’s us and our countrymen.”

  “A good point,” Sef conceded, “so what do we know?”

  Anton considered. “Nothing from Adonis. I heard stories, of course, of gargoyle raids on isolated forest villages, but I’ve never heard of them coming as far south as the coast. Neither have I ever met anyone who’s actually seen one.”

  “Hmmm, interesting. Me neither.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve never seen one, or heard of anyone I trusted who has.”

  “But you lived in the forests beyond the lakelands; what of the tales of flights of them passing by at night hunting for food?”

  Sef shrugged. “That’s the kind of tale I grew up with, but I’ve never seen such a thing – well, not for certain. Once, when I was young, a flight of something large flew over Kaumhurst one winter evening. There were dozens of them. To this day, I don’t know whether they were bats, birds or gargoyles; still, we ran for our cellars and slept underground for the next few nights.”

  “It’s a mystery, then?”

  “I’ve never glimpsed a live one, but did see a skeleton once. A curiosity show came to pass through Kaumhurst, one that included oddities like a pair of dwarves. You know the kind of thing?”

  “Yes, the sort of show filled with animal exhibits of skeletons mounted on wood or displays of their skins. I never saw a gargoyle skeleton though, yet you saw one with your own eyes?”

  Sef nodded. “It looked real enough. It was just a skeleton, much like that of man, except for its slenderness and the long bones of its wings.”

  “Describe it?”

  “It was probably as tall as me, but its wingspan easily twice that height. The real difference was the wing bones, them a spindly frame which joined the body at the shoulder. All the bones were dotted with small holes. The man running the show said that you could write with them, like you can with a stone of chalk, but that they were tougher.”

  “Holes?”

  “Yes, like in the finer sponges you see washed up on the beach.”

  “Now, that’s something I’ve seen. And the skeleton looked real, not cobbled together from the bones of birds or animals?”

  Sef shrugged. “To me it did, but who knows? Besides, where are we going with this; that gargoyles aren’t real?”

  “No, but that they aren’t, perhaps, what we’ve been led to believe.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know of anyone, firsthand, who has ever been to the heart of Quersic Quor and lived to tell the tale?”

  “No, of course not, but there are stories.”

  “Do you know of anyone, firsthand, who has tried such a journey?”

  “No, everyone is too afraid.”

  “Of what?”

  “The gargoyles.”

  “The gargoyles; the same beasts that no one has ever seen?”

  “There was the skeleton,” Sef answered, but he began to think.

  “Yes, but au
thentic or not, who can say?”

  “People are reluctant to travel the forest roads, particularly in winter, unless in large groups. They fear that they may be hunted by raiding swarms of gargoyles, but I’m beginning to wonder if you’re on to something: Perhaps it’s a false fear. Is it possible that there are forces at work trying to keep people away from the heart of Kalraith because they don’t want us to discover what’s truly there?”

  Anton nodded. “Lest we discover something disruptive to the ruling order?”

  “If so, then what is there?”

  “I don’t know, but certainly something. I doubt the heart of Kalraith is empty, or it’d have been claimed by the Lae Velsanans.”

  “Yes, for they’ve their Kalraith Colonies along the west coast from north to south and another in the island’s northeast.”

  “Yes, Sanamae.”

  “With Fletland in the southeast, all the land is taken.”

  Anton nodded. “Leaving only the mysterious centre.”

  “So, what is at the island’s heart: Something too difficult to defeat and too dangerous to ignore or declare?”

  “Whatever it is, it’s the enemy of the death-addicted gods – and that’s got to be worth investigating.”

  “But I’ve heard you speak of Dorloth before. You think she exists?”

  “Something’s there, something divine and strong. I’ve seen some of what the Inquisition knows of all this, though they’ve never gotten any closer to the heart of Kalraith than Fletland’s lakelands.”

  “What do they know?”

  “That a presence lurks in the island’s wooded heart, something of Life and so strong that it can be felt in the celestial from far away.”

  “So what of our goal to deliver Juvela’s message?”

  “Something of Life is at the heart of Kalraith, so regardless of whether it’s a gargoyle god or not, we must find it.”

  Chapter 25

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  A Plan Grows

  -

  After our meeting with the Inquisition, I spent the night laying beside my husband lost in silent debate. I wondered; with their plan, Pedro’s volunteers and Silva’s secret gate, could the city actually be retaken? It sounded like such a fanciful thing, yet possible, but still so fraught with danger. Eventually, I drifted off into a restless sleep.