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

by Colin Taber

  He cursed. His immediate reaction was to crouch down and think of where to flee, but as he did, he realised that from such a distance, in his mottled whites, he’d probably be all but invisible, particularly if he stayed still.

  The tower rose to a fair height, but was not a complete castle or centre for much, by the look of its size. The stone structure stood perhaps four floors high, with its outer wall looking to be little more than twice the height of a man.

  Sef wondered as he looked upon it; such a place would probably only hold a small force, certainly if it was part of a wider effort to watch over the whole length of the Varm Carga. Such a force wouldn’t be much more than a score or two of men and women, and maybe a third of those would be attendants who saw to the cultists keeping and feeding and ran the stables and smithy.

  But if they were close, then so would be their patrols.

  For the moment he turned from it, not too concerned despite its presence, and then looked behind him again to where he’d come from. His brow furrowed at the sight. He might be clad in much of the same white of the snow, but one thing his cloak couldn’t hide were his heavy footprints across the fresh wintry carpet where he’d left the stream edge to climb the embankment.

  The way was watched, and he would have to be more careful.

  If the men of the Sentinels didn’t spy him, the wings of night would. They could find a trail easily from above and also be able to catch a scent. Now, he realised he had a problem. He either had to find a better hiding place for him and his fellows or, he had to erase all the tracks he’d made, and all before dusk’s arrival.

  For now though, with the bright sun rising and the scattered clouds high and thin, he figured he was safe from winged pursuit. So, he turned and continued on, but he was mindful that he had limited time.

  -

  Sef had kept on walking for the best part of the morning, something he really wished he hadn’t done. He looked back behind him at the trail he’d left. The big Flet had tried to be careful, but in some places he couldn’t help but leave tracks in the fresh snow. He’d need to cover those footprints, and that was going to be a long, tedious and back breaking task as he’d have to do it all the way back to Anton and Matraia.

  He’d started out wanting to follow the strange road, and had done just that as it ran alongside the lake. At times it dipped down into the still waters, making it clear that the lake wasn’t supposed to be there. Still, the road always emerged from the dark waters and continued up the vale. So, driven by his curiosity, he marched on.

  After several long lengths and bends, both in and out of the water, he’d come to a point where he had to decide if he should keep going or turn back.

  The road was a mystery, and not just one of strange ruin, but also in its sheer size and scope. All along the way, Sef had seen nothing else of any note, let alone anything linked to what lay before him. He saw no sign of ruined villages or towns, not even the crumbled wall of a lone farm or a place to water horses. The road merely went on.

  He knew the road must have at one time connected something to somewhere, but now it simply lay there like the crumbling bones of a scattered skeleton in a pillaged tomb.

  Surely this was one of the old Dominion roads that Matraia had mentioned, but if so, where had it lead – to a high mountain pass straddled by a sentinel tower or to one of the tunnels she had spoken of? And if this was how the ancient Lae Velsanans had built their roads, what efforts would they have put into a tunnel designed to continue its wide way on through a mountain?

  As he continued, he also noticed that the subtle, pulsing beat of Dorloth’s life that came from the lake was getting stronger, as if he was getting closer to the source. He wondered; was that just because there was more water here?

  Anton might know, but for Sef there were just too many mysteries.

  He stopped and looked ahead to where the valley turned yet again. He could see over the shoulder of the slopes that the valley’s sides seemed to be coming together, perhaps at the vale’s end. Behind it all, the mountains rose sternly, their heights caked in snow and ice.

  ... A barrier not good for any of them, Matraia least of all.

  Not good at all.

  The Sentinel tower to the east was now hidden behind the great ridges of rock that climbed to become the buttresses of the Varm Carga, but the tower to the west seemed almost as close as before, which had seen him shiver more than once as he’d walked along the dark and still lakeside.

  Sef sighed and walked on, figuring he’d at least go to what looked like the last bend in the vale and see what became of this strange road. The wide surface didn’t look to have been travelled upon at all in this age; instead it was covered with snow, gravel and dirt, and rocks that had rolled down from the rising neighbouring slope. He also passed a few places where the hillside had collapsed in years long passed, sending stone and soil to slump across it.

  Along the way he examined the road as best he could when the opportunity presented itself. Where it ran down below the lake’s surface for a short stretch, he saw it for what it was, even using a knife to dig away a layer of ash, burnt clay and scorched gravel before uncovering long buried soil. Under that old dirt, he found a layer of dark rock. It was a hard surface, but now cracked with age and quite brittle in places. He’d found that when he’d dug a quarter of a pace deep, and below where it had cracked, he’d broken through to find a different coloured and hard packed gravel.

  This was no highway of flagstones or cobbles, but something crafted in an unknown way.

  Lost in such thoughts, he barely noticed as he approached the bend in the vale he’d set as the end of his trek. He stopped when he reached it, only because of the turn in the road as it again ran into the waters of the lake and under them. This time the road did not resurface.

  Sef looked around, guessing it was well passed midmorning. He suspected he’d also probably left it too late to do anything more than a rough job of covering his tracks. The thought made him all the more eager to make sure that in coming all this way, he made a discovery not just of a whimsical nature, but something truly useful.

  He needed a return on his efforts.

  The lake made its way to what was indeed the end of the valley as it came to a pinched close. The mountains rose to drag in the siding ridges at their feet, but something lay at the end, about two hundred or so paces away.

  The mystery offered an answer – of sorts.

  The lake came to an end, but not on a shoreline of cold water and snow covered stones, instead it was another strange cave. This one was different and beckoned, the new entrance much wider than the drain back at the lake’s other end. It was an ancient tunnel and looked to have suffered a partial collapse in the middle, where a section of mountainside had slumped down into the lake in the distant past. Still, despite its ruination, the opening had clearly stretched wide enough to accommodate the full width of the road.

  He stood there shaking his head. This was exactly what Matraia had talked about – one of the ways into Kalraith, a road safe from both the Kavists of the Sentinels and the gargoyles.

  What a wonder.

  And again, as he pondered its mysteries, he noticed the pulse of Life’s power coming to wash over him from the nearby waters.

  Was it a message?

  The tunnel had to go somewhere – and it exuded Life’s strength and blessings, sourced from Dorloth.

  It was too late to go back and cover his tracks well, which meant they couldn’t stay where they were. It was simple; they had to go into the tunnel.

  He whispered the words that had played on his mind, “The way was watched.”

  Yes, the known ways were watched, but not all ways were known. Sef also knew from long experience that not all eyes belonged to foes.

  Sef looked at the sun as it hung high in the sky. He still had time if he hurried, so he began to jog back along the lakeside, trying to smother his old footprints with new ones, marks that led away from where they would
now spend the night.

  -

  Anton had grown anxious by the time Sef returned close to noon. “Where have you been?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ve found something, hopefully something useful.”

  “What?”

  “An ancient road that leads into a tunnel. It’s from where this stream issues.”

  “A road? One of those that Matraia mentioned?”

  “Yes. How is she?”

  “Asleep. She woke briefly and I gave her some food and water, but then I bid her to get what rest she could while we waited for you.”

  Her voice sounded, stirred to wake by their conversation. “Sef, did I hear you say you’ve found a tunnel?”

  “Yes, a fair walk ahead, from where the stream runs.”

  She began to get out of her bedroll. She moved heavily and perhaps a little stiffly, but it was more so with tiredness than ill health. Sef wasn’t under any illusions, though, as he watched her rise, crawling out of their shelter and clumsily stretching her arms and wings.

  They would not be able to push her.

  “Are we to go?” she asked.

  “Yes, as soon as you are ready.”

  She nodded and turned back to gather up her bedding.

  Anton looked at Sef and gave a more relaxed smile, his initial worry at Sef’s late return having faded. “What of the Sentinels?”

  “They’re there, particularly a tower just to the west, probably only one vale over, but I think we’re far enough away, certainly to get where we need to before they discover us. Besides, if we can take some care and wear some white and grey, the snow will hide us.”

  Matraia heard and gave another nod as she pulled her pack over and readied herself.

  Anton asked, “And the nearest Sentinel tower to the east?”

  “Soon enough these ridges rise high enough to hide us from it. Don’t worry, it is much further away.”

  -

  Before long they were on their way.

  Sef had them walk in his footsteps, primarily on the thin snow or exposed gravel alongside the stream. Whenever they came across a footprint in deeper snow, they took care to erase it and leave no new prints.

  They started their trek easily enough, and the sky promised light for a good while yet, though heavy clouds to the north and east continued to gather and spread.

  Anton spotted the road before he noticed the drain ahead, pointing it out to Matraia as he asked Sef, “Is that it?”

  “Yes, and there’s much more to it. You’ll see soon enough.”

  If Anton had been surprised by the road, he was amazed by the drain and lake. The discovery seemed to reinvigorate all of them, for which Sef was grateful. Yet still he hurried them along, only slowing when they needed to work at covering any sign of their passage.

  Soon, their march didn’t just eat up the road, but also the afternoon. As they continued, clouds increasingly passed above, often cutting the sunlight. Eventually darker clouds moved in to cast them in gloom, the change backed by a rising breeze. As if the deepening shadows weren’t enough, setting them all to watch the skies, the snow returned to fall in flurries around them.

  Sef checked that everyone was alright, most especially Matraia, who again was growing tired, yet they continued on. Deep down, he was relieved for the snow, as it would both help hide them in their passing and also hide any tracks they left behind.

  As the temperature dropped, the air chilled by the wind, Matraia again began to stumble as her strength undeniably faded.

  Sef simply tried to keep them moving. If he could get them to the tunnel, they would at least have more room and shelter, although he was increasingly conscious of the fact he had done nothing more than check it from a distance. That was careless of him, but they were committed now.

  The Sentinel towers loomed around them, one distant in the east and soon lost behind the ridge, but the other much closer, as Sef had warned.

  Anton was alarmed at how close they had come to the western tower, but Sef urged him on. Going back just wasn’t an option.

  The three of them stayed quiet as they walked on and the chilled wind stirred. The snow came and went, the flurries growing heavier each time, but helping at least to build a veil to cover their passing from any watching Kavists.

  Sef pointed out the end of the valley when it finally came into view. So, for that last part of their trek, they picked up their pace as heavier clouds rolled in and the snow again came down, falling fast as the wind blustered.

  They reached the end of the vale in gloom, the poor light courtesy of the overcast sky and thickening snow. The wind had also picked up, squalling through the vale. The conditions worsened all the way until they stood near the tunnel’s entrance, most of the dark opening submerged under the lake’s waters.

  In the fading light and bad weather, it didn’t look quite so promising.

  The top of the tunnel stood barely a pace clear of the lake water’s chill. The side walls rose straight, if weathered, before heading into the darkness. Clearly, it had been built by one of the races of man, even if now the structure had buckled in places and lay ruined in the middle, where rubble slumped down into the water from above it, where a small section of the mountain’s slope had slipped in the past.

  Anton tried to keep his voice down, yet had to raise it above the wind, “This is a wonder, even more so for what I can feel emanate from inside.”

  Sef and Matraia both nodded, her with a heavy head. Sef said, “I sense it too; I can feel Dorloth.”

  The wind picked up, growing wild as it whistled and called, caught on a whole world punctuated by broken stone, occasional charred stumps and hemmed in by cliffs.

  The snow started to fall even more heavily, pushing them towards the decision they knew they had to make.

  Matraia finally said, “I can’t stand out here for long.”

  Sef looked at the entrance, an opening filled with water, which he guessed to be deep.

  Anton agreed. “We can either go into the water and try and follow the tunnel, but that’ll be cold, and there may be currents unseen to us. Or we climb along the edge at the top of the tunnel and drop down where it has collapsed to see if there is a dry ledge on the inside of the rock fall.”

  Sef studied the opening in the dim light. “There does look to be a ledge around where it has slumped, something that follows the rubble around to the inside above the waterline.”

  “It also looks like the rock fall happened years ago. Shrubs are growing there, stunted and half buried under the snow. The slope looks worn and weathered. Perhaps it is stable enough to take our weight.”

  Sef said, “We didn’t come all this way to die in a rockslide.”

  “We have to try something,” Anton prompted.

  Matraia drew her wings close around herself, trying to protect herself from the wind and snow. “As much as I believe we have to go in, I can’t help but think that the chill water will kill us when coupled with the breeze. Let us try for the slope, though we’ll need to be careful.”

  Together, taking great care, they climbed a few paces up the slope over the lake and then shuffled along the top of the ledge above the tunnel mouth, a space only a few hand-spans wide and covered over with loose gravel and snow. Sef went first, followed by Matraia, with Anton coming last. The two men kept a close eye on Matraia, as it was obvious her strength was fading.

  As Sef watched Matraia’s footing, he noticed the snow falling into the water just over a pace below them, the flakes swiftly caught in a current as it landed and quickly melted. “The lake is sourced from the tunnel, and the water looks to be reasonably warm,” he said in surprise.

  Matraia was breathing heavily now. “I’m not in the mood for a bath.”

  Sef smiled. “Maybe not, but if it’s coming out of the tunnel, at least we know it goes somewhere and that it’ll be warmer inside.”

  “True, but I’ll be happy with a ledge and my bedroll for now.”

  With numb fingers and chill
ing feet, they finally reached the rock fall, the slumping dirt and stone old enough to have settled well into place.

  Sef climbed down the awkward bank to the water’s edge. Once there, he squatted down and carefully ducked into the tunnel as he looked as best he could in the dim light and felt around. The spill of rubble had obviously happened a long time ago, perhaps an age. What he found was dry and solid underfoot, sloping from the spill and down to a pace-wide ledge worn by the lake’s water. It spread like a small beach.

  Sef crawled forward, trying to see more. There was space inside – not much – for all of them to sleep on the slope, even if much of it lay at a fair angle above the beach. From further ahead he could feel a draft and hear the trickle of water, though he could see little else.

  Drawing a knife, he continued forward on his hands and knees.

  Before long, he realised that the rock fall, which partially blocked the entrance to the tunnel, didn’t go far within. The collapse had only marked the entrance, so not far into his crawl, he saw that it curved around and then headed back out to the other side to create a strange subterranean island.

  He called back for the others to follow as he took off his bedroll and pack. It was on that slope, with their backs to it and well out of the wind and snow that they found a place to camp. Sef was relieved as he took Matraia’s bedroll from her and unrolled it across a patch of dirt and loose stone that he smoothed out with his other hand. “Time for you to get back to healing.”

  She gave a relived laugh. “Indeed, and tomorrow when we wake, we’ll go exploring again?”

  Sef smiled, but before he could reply, he heard the distant cries of gargoyles as they cut through the wail of the rising wind. After a moment he whispered, “I think we will, but for now sleep well and we’ll watch over you. I think the wind and snowfall will ruin our trail for our foes. Rest now and sleep.”

  Indeed, they’d been lucky.

  The way was watched, but not only by the enemy.