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

by Colin Taber

  For a moment, the sight made Sef feel desperately homesick, but the morose ache was quickly drowned under a rising tide of relief.

  They were home!

  He said, “I’d all but forgotten the tales of the City of Seers.”

  Anton looked on in silence.

  Sef gave him a pat on the back. “Anton, you’re not a slave to the Church any more, let go of their dogma. We need have nothing to do with the Seers of Adonis. You’ve nothing to fear.”

  The former inquisitor reluctantly nodded.

  For all his life such magic had been forbidden!

  Fel came to them and smiled. “It’s time for you to go. If we can see them, then sure enough, they can see us.”

  Sef said, “We thank you for all your help. It won’t be forgotten.”

  “Just look after yourselves and take care. I hope to see you again back at the ruins beside Juvela.”

  Anton finally spoke, “I must thank you, too. Without your aid I’d still be a prisoner – or dead.”

  “Your company has been payment enough, just travel with care.”

  Their boat was lowered over the side and into the water by way of a sturdy crane that swung out from one of the ship’s masts. Rope ladders were then unrolled over the railing, and then, with another round of goodbyes, they climbed down, unhooked the boat from the crane’s moorings, and set themselves free.

  Fel called out as the dark waters of the Evoran Sea filled a growing gap between boat and ship, “Remember, the current will take you south should you not make it straight to Adonis!”

  Sef called out as Anton waved, “We’ll be alright, thank you!”

  He then picked up the oars, put his back to Adonis, and began to pull. With each passing moment, the magnificent Lae Velsanan ship moved further away, as its pace quickened. The ship was already turning as it headed out, the lights on its mast marking it as it swept around and made back for the Northcountry and Quor.

  Anton watched. “It’s truly magnificent, even if lit by the dead.”

  “It’s a wonder, and Fel a strange one indeed. We’ve seen much of him over the past few days, of him and his love for justice, but also of his tainting by the Lae Velsanans’ damned faith. He’s a believer.”

  “Yes,” said Anton, his voice grim. “He’d be a powerful ally, yet he’s enslaved by the Kinreda as are the rest of his kin.”

  “He was mostly oblivious to the grim carnage of Quor. Horrified, yet too ready to accept it as necessary.”

  Anton turned his back on the ship which was now all but gone. All that could be seen were the higher naskae that studded the main masts. “Yes, he can help and has, but in the end his loyalties lay not with us or Juvela, but with his own kind and their gods. He got quite angry when we discussed their methods, and also uncomfortable in Juvela’s company whenever the conversation turned to matters divine.”

  “Why should he care of middling faiths?”

  “Because of what Juvela represents: I think he made the connection, maybe not consciously, but she’s of the same school of heresy that the natives of Quor were suspected of.”

  Sef kept pulling on the oars, but asked, “How’d you know?”

  “There’s much the Inquisition can discover, mostly through its own agents, but you’d be surprised how much the like-minded faiths also pool knowledge of their enemies.”

  “Officials of the Kinreda told you about the troubles in Quor?”

  “Not in great detail, but enough that we could see that there was a problem there and reason out its true nature.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Because Ossard was so close.”

  And with that, Sef rowed on in silence.

  -

  Sef pulled hard on the oars, but for a good while Adonis seemed to stay stubbornly beyond reach. Finally, as the rain began to fall – and at what Sef and Anton guessed to be about midnight – they began to close on the harbour’s breakwater.

  A fresh wind blew, combining with the steady rain to make all of Fletland uninviting and damp. Anton watched the city in the weak light, its detail lost under a shroud of gloom. The only thing that stood out was the blue glow of the Seers’ Tower, something that even the rain and dark couldn’t subdue. Seeing it, Anton spoke as he watched Sef’s nostrils flare. “Can you smell it?”

  “Yes, the scent of home.”

  Anton gave a rueful smile before speaking again, “Of an ancient land of pine, thick with deep and gnarled woods.”

  Sef joined him for the remainder of the verse, something taught to the young of both Fletlanas and outleaguers, “Of smoke rising from green timber wet with resin and rain, yet never far from the crisp bite of winter. This is our land, a land of plains edged by mountains and brine, yet cradle of the riverlands and lakelands, too. And all of it watched over by damp forest. Oh, for our beloved home, where I was born under green leaf to one day die. And will lie under humus as I return to its bosom.”

  Sef wore a sad smile. “Such a song of home.”

  “Yes,” Anton agreed.

  “I didn’t know the Heletians of Adonis would know such a thing?”

  “We do, remember my people were here first, claiming the coast long before yours arrived. We know all too well this land’s cool and rain, and its wild woods. It’s a part of us also.”

  “It’s a shame our people don’t mix more, for what other common points might they discover if only they looked?”

  “I agree, but it’s unlikely to happen. In any case, for now we’ll need to consider one of their other shared traits.”

  Sef peered over his shoulder as they neared the entrance to the harbour, most of the town now dark. Only a few lamps and the blue of the Seers’ Tower remained for them to steer by. “What trait’s that?”

  “Their fear of strangers. Look at our boat; it’s obviously carved by Lae Velsanan hands. Perhaps we shouldn’t go into the harbour after all, but instead land outside the city and enter as travellers on the road?”

  Sef looked back to Adonis, the town cloaked in rain and shadow. “You might be right.”

  Out of nowhere, a gull with white wings that caught the meagre light glided past. As it crossed their path the swell picked up to push them by the harbour’s entrance and carry them south.

  “It seems as though the choice has been made,” said Sef.

  Anton gave a nod as he whispered his thanks to Juvela. He knew she was struggling with her own burden, yet he recognised the aid she gave – aid she probably wasn’t even conscious of giving. Her blessing on Sef was strong, so strong that it could overcome simple bad luck and also manifest as fortunate twists of fate.

  Sef pulled on the oars to keep them closing on the shore, even though the swell and current dragged them past the harbour and towards one of the beaches behind a small headland to the south. “Don’t worry, all will be well. Juvela is fighting to do what’s right, and in the end she’ll sacrifice much for it. She’ll do what she has to.”

  Anton’s brow furrowed. “Did you feel her intervention just now?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re getting stronger.”

  “Perhaps, or maybe just more sensitive.”

  Anton smiled. “Her rise is also empowering you.”

  After a while they rounded the headland and made for shore.

  A beach spread along a small bay, one bracketed by rocky outcrops and surrounded by a mix of brush and thickets of windswept trees. Both of them knew that just beyond would be the first of countless small lots of crop land and pasture; there’d also be a scattering of homesteads and the first of the coastal road villages.

  Sef managed – more through luck – to get the boat to surf a wave in amongst the choppy swell.

  Amidst the spray, Anton got out and began pulling the boat ashore. He ignored the cold of the sea, for the breeze and rain carried a greater chill – one they needed shelter from. He asked, “What do you want to do with the boat, it’s quite obviously Lae Velsanan? It marks us.”


  Sef jumped out to help. He looked at the boat, to its simple lines and the carved patterns that ran its length. It was a fine piece of work, even the oars, which had been good and comfortable to handle. “To tell you the truth, I’m not sure what we should do with it. We could try and sell it, but as you say, being connected to it marks us out and could even get us killed. Maybe we should just push it back out into the waves and set it to sea. Or, perhaps we should sink it?”

  “Perhaps, for as useful as it could be, all of that’ll come to nothing if people look coldly upon us.”

  Sef nodded. “We’re already destined to run into people who wish us ill courtesy of our divine marks.”

  Anton looked back to the boat. “Yes, this won’t be a warm homecoming. Not for either of us.”

  “Well?”

  “We won’t be returning to Ossard in it, so let’s sink it.”

  “Now?”

  “Unless you want to use it for shelter?”

  “No, let’s do it while we’re under the cover of night and then find somewhere to camp. We’ll head for Adonis’ gates at dawn.”

  They emptied the boat and then pushed it back out into the choppy swell. Once they were waist deep and past the breakers, Sef said, “Let’s tip it here and set it to fill. It may drift a little and not go straight to the bottom, but at least it’ll be out of easy sight.”

  Anton gave a nod as they began to tilt it, setting the lip of the side low and into the path of the swell. The waves, while not big, caught the lip and overran it. Before long it held enough water to be mostly full, bringing it low in the swell. With another nod to each other, they gave it a push to set it off and away.

  They watched it go, the waves sloshing eagerly over its bow. Satisfied, they turned and headed back to shore.

  Back on the beach, they were both keen to get dry and warm.

  Anton gasped, “I’ve felt warmer corpses!” He was shivering.

  “At least our bagged gear will be dry. Let’s find somewhere out of the wind in the thickets to camp. Keep an eye out for driftwood.”

  “It’s nice to see trees again,” Anton offered.

  Sef agreed. “I’d been in the Northcountry for so long, I’d almost forgotten what they were until we arrived at the ruins.”

  Anton laughed. “I only got the one visit into Grenda’s gardens, remember, for she seemed to think me Death himself.”

  “Most people do!” Sef’s teeth began to chatter.

  “If you’re referring to my stint as an inquisitor, you’ve obviously forgotten all about my remarkable rebirth. I’m as gentle as a babe!”

  Sef gave a short laugh, but grew silent with concern as Anton began to cough. It was a wet thing, something born of mistreatment and the bad weather they’d been exposed to. “Come, let’s see if we can get a fire going. We’ll at least have a shelter of sorts; our dry clothes are rolled in waterproof canvas.”

  “Sounds good.” Anton wheezed.

  Before long, they found a thick grove of evergreen trees. On their east side – the side facing the sea – the thicket neighboured a set of dense shrubs that added to a wall of greenery. It worked to break the worst of the wind and provide some relief from the rain. Sef then left Anton to scout the area, making sure they were alone.

  He returned not long after, pleased enough with their chosen campsite. Anton and he worked to put up the canvas in the best spot they could find. Tired, they then pulled off their boots and changed out of sodden clothes into the only other sets they carried. With that done, and them again dry, Sef went to work starting a fire, while Anton got out their bedrolls.

  Sef looked across and asked, “How are you feeling?”

  Anton smiled. “I’ve felt worse.”

  “I’m sure you have, but that’s not what I meant.”

  “I’ll be alright.” He then tried to suppress a cough.

  The fire caught, beginning to flicker with small yellow flames. Sef smiled, leaning back as he began feeding it twigs.

  Anton said, “I’m feeling better already just seeing those flames.”

  Sef started putting bigger sticks on and then a few branches. “We’ll have a good fire tonight, for we’ll need it for warmth and dry boots. I also think, despite what attention it may draw, that so close to the city we should be safe.”

  Anton nodded. “Yes, for we’re back in Fletland, not far outside Adonis’ walls. We’ll be safe here; we’re more likely to be surrounded by fields and sheep than thieves.”

  “Yes, back home in Fletland.”

  “How strange it feels.”

  “I never thought I’d return. I certainly never wanted to.”

  “Yes,” Anton whispered, “I know what you mean.”

  -

  The sun rose, but wasn’t to be seen. The clouds of the past night lingered, though, at least for now, the rain had ceased. It was birdsong that woke Sef first, setting him to stir in the gloom. That in turn woke Anton who lay beside him. The fire still lived, but only now as embers.

  Voices could also be heard from nearby, from further inland. They sounded to be that of a farmer working his livestock with a younger man, perhaps a son. It was a comforting sound, but soon faded.

  Sef got up and stretched, only to realise his shirt was on inside out. He looked up to see Anton smirking at him. “Well, I did get dressed in the dark.”

  “True, I suppose.” The outleaguer sat up and began to push his bedroll away. “So, a quick breakfast and then off to town?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  They had a simple meal and then packed up camp, finding the coastal road not far away, just past a low hill and several more thickets.

  Traffic already made its way both to and from the city’s open gates, so they joined the flow heading past well-tended fields. A queue awaited ahead to enter Adonis.

  Anton asked, “Do we have any other business here?”

  Sef watched the flow of farmers and merchants, realising that Anton was the only Heletian on the road. “No business but to get what we need to travel. If you wish, we can spend the night in Adonis and set out tomorrow. You could even visit the Heletian Quarter if you’d like?”

  Anton frowned. “I’m not sure I should.”

  “Don’t you have any family you’d wish to see?”

  “I do,” he dropped his voice to whisper, “but I’d have to lie to them.”

  Sef was quiet for a moment. He hadn’t really thought about it, being more focussed on the knowledge that any charge of heresy against Anton wouldn’t have reached here yet – and probably wouldn’t for another season. With all that was going on in the Northcountry, such news being sent to the local Church of Baimiopia’s orders just wouldn’t be a priority. The Inquisition would certainly not expect him to already have landed in Fletland, and more likely think him heading south to get lost in the crowds of the great port cities of Porto Baimio or Vangre. “Will people know you, do you need to keep a low profile?”

  “I think I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Sef asked, as he noticed two different groups down the line looking back at him, only to then turn away all too obviously.

  “If we do run into someone, just let me do the talking.”

  “Alright.”

  By now they were nearing the gate where people waited to be inspected and let through. There was the matter of duties to pay for traders, a tax on goods, but also the gate fee, a charge for entrance into the city.

  Anton asked, “Do we have coins?”

  “Yes, and ones besides those which came from Fel,” Sef answered as he noticed someone else staring.

  “Good.”

  Anton was still the only dark-haired Heletian amongst a crowd of blonde Flets. Sef asked, “How many Heletians live in the quarter?”

  “I don’t know for certain, but I think it’s about eight thousand.”

  “Any in the surrounding countryside?”

  “No, not any more, but they did many years ago.”

  “None seem to be on
the road today.”

  Anton looked about and stiffened. “Relations between the Flets and Heletians of Adonis have always had their ups and downs. I wouldn’t worry that I stand out, it may be more of a concern when we begin our trek and have to explain ourselves in the lakelands.”

  “Do you think?”

  “I do, but you’re right to worry; something’s wrong here.”

  “There’s a tension in the air and too many people looking our way, but not holding our gaze.”

  From ahead came the sounds of men marching, seeing both Sef and Anton turn towards the gate. All conversation about them stopped, as the eyes of the crowd moved to a dozen approaching men of the watch, and from them back to Anton and Sef.

  The guards’ gaze was also fixed on them.

  Sef whispered, “They’re coming for us.”

  “How could they know?”

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “What shall we do?”

  “We’ve no enemies who could know we’ve arrived. Let’s go with this and see what it’s about. If it’s just mistaken identities, we can always use your own people to confirm that they’ve got it wrong.”

  Anton gave a subtle nod. “They aren’t bearing arms.” It was true, their swords were still sheathed.

  “Follow my lead.” Sef stepped out of the line to meet the guards with his hands held open and in clear view.

  The leader of the watchmen stopped in front of them. “Sef Vaugen and Anton Camberi, you’re to come with me to an audience with Countess Brumoer.”

  Sef tried to hide his surprise. “We didn’t know we were expected?”

  The guards’ lead simply said, “Your arrival was foreseen.” He then added, “Please, follow me.” He turned and led them through the gates.

  The gates were old but strong and had stood for a hundred years. Passing through them, Sef and Anton came into the streets of Adonis, them already growing busy. As they followed their escort, they noticed only more eyes upon them.

  It seemed that they had been well and truly expected.

  Sef whispered, “Master Camberi?” And made to stifle a laugh.

  Anton smiled, but shook his head. After noticing some dark hair in the crowds, he added, “Put your earlier fears to rest. I can see more Heletians, or should I say, Camberis, for I imagine they’re all cousins.”