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

by Colin Taber

  The steady drum of such water song would hide any other noise, forcing Sef, Anton and Matraia to keep their eyes ahead – and occasionally behind. Sef was already well aware that with Juvela’s light anchored on them, and the echoing sound of water masking all else, they weren’t likely to be aware of anything that shared the tunnel with them, until it was upon them.

  Still, after a long stretch of their march, they grew used to their surroundings and began to relax. At that point they fell into a conversation, both hushed but doomed to echo. Whatever they said, whatever sound they made, all seemed to roll off into the tunnel and then return. Even an innocent whisper came back as a deep hiss.

  Confronted by it, they eventually learned to put up with the accompanying chorus.

  Sef asked, “Does the Inquisition know much about this?”

  “Little for certain, more in passing, but most is speculation.”

  “And it was the Lae Velsanans who built this?”

  “Yes. I have even seen copies of maps that show great networks of such wonders, most having long since been overrun by forests or flooded by rising seas. It seems the world is no friend of man in his many guises or his works.”

  Matraia listened to what Anton said, her interest keen.

  The Outleaguer continued, “Using such maps, we’ve found other sites, but they are always wasted ruins. Time works at what lies under the sun and moon, drowning it in dust and soil if not water. Anything left must then also survive the plants that come to cover it and grind it with their roots. I have seen how first the grasses and herbals come to force open cracks in roads and walls, then trees advance, their robust roots tearing apart anything left.”

  Sef was intrigued. “I had never thought about it.”

  Anton nodded. “The most dangerous foe is not the natural world, but man. At one site, we found a whole district of villages built out of stone slabs and slate tiles they had salvaged. Unwittingly, they had erased a whole town.”

  “And what of what is left under the sea?”

  “The ruins there are also buried, but under silt and weed.”

  “So little remains?”

  “Very little, although much of what does are small outposts at great heights, where only water and wind can wear at them. Of course, most of the Dominion civilisations were in the fertile lowlands and along the coasts. It was the Ogres who commanded the highlands and mountains then, so their dead cities remain in place. But they were a nation apart from the Dominion and without their wonders.”

  “But there would be other underground places like this scattered around?”

  “Yes, certainly, but they are few, and most often next to impossible to get to.”

  Sef turned to Matraia. “Dorloth is said to live in the ruins of the Kalraith Dominion’s capital, Quersic Quor, so it must have survived?”

  “Yes, but it’s still been worn by time. I’ve never been there, as Dorloth’s presence is too overwhelming. The divine focus is too strong.”

  They walked on in silence, Sef and Anton considering her words.

  After a distance, Sef again disturbed their trek, “So, they rode through these tunnels in horseless carriages, instead of going over mountains or around them?”

  “Yes,” answered Anton, “and it is said they did so at much better speed than we can manage. I suppose they brought their own light as well, but from what we know, they passed through such roads in well under a day.”

  “Why isn’t this knowledge better shared?”

  “Because not all of it is of wonders, or I should say, these kinds of wonders. The Dominions of the Lae Velsanans have always reached great peaks before falling so low as to drag down the rest of the world.”

  “You mean the burning of the skies that saw the sea levels rise?”

  “That, and other catastrophes. During the falls of each of their Dominions, whole cities burnt along with great tracts of land. They were also prone to enslaving other races – as the Flets know only too well – but there have been many other victims as well, some which never escaped to tell the tale.”

  “I’ve heard of such things.”

  “Well, hear now what the Inquisition knows for truth:”

  “Go on.”

  “How many tribes of Heletians, who each founded their own homeland, make up the League?”

  “Eight, if you count expelled Ossard.”

  “Yes, eight. Once, at a time when our people already believed in Krienta but had not moved beyond the plough or living in small villages, there were thirteen Heletian tribes.”

  “Five more?”

  “Yes.”

  “And they were enslaved by the Lae Velsanans?”

  “We know many were, to varying degrees. What we don’t know is what portion of their peoples still lived free, only to be drowned when the river valley heartlands of their homelands were inundated by the rising seas that followed the scorching of their ancient Dominions.”

  “By the gods! So what wasn’t doomed by the fireballs bursting above Dominion cities was inundated and lost?”

  “The Maroklaran Sea is the Heletian homeland. The tribes that survived fled to what had been the highlands around it. Those heights largely became islands and the land we have now. Such a move, forced by such unexpected events, pushed what was left of the Heletians into conflict with other peoples, like the Ogres.”

  “Ah, and that is where Saint Baimioa comes in – leading the Heletians of Greater Baimiopia to capture the grand and fertile Sidian Valley.”

  “Yes, a land that at one time was the heart of the Ogres’ own domain.”

  “The Heletian people would be both angered and terrified to know such a truth; that the Lae Velsanans stole away five of their sister states.”

  “And that is why it is kept a secret, as the Lae Velsanans are too strong for us to fight, so we must do what we can to keep the peace.”

  Matraia shook her head sadly as she walked beside them, offering, “There will be war in the end; there always is with the Lae Velsanans.”

  “If you mean because of the way they grow in numbers and colonise, you are right, but that time is years off. Hopefully it is an age we will never see.”

  “Hopefully, you say, but look at how they spread now; they are colonising many lands and exporting their people. They say that the Core of Wairanir is an overcrowded place with too many souls to spare.”

  “Yes.” And Anton looked to Sef. “That is why they can afford to harvest the naskae from their dead to decorate their ships and the towers of their pillar-cities back in the Core. They are not just a fertile people, but long lived, so much so that no land can hold them for long. They are the bane of our world.”

  Matraia again ventured into the conversation, one she’d mostly just listened to in silence. “The gargoyles also breed fast and are both fertile and long lived. It’s their starving hordes that have always come crashing against our defences like waves. They and the Lae Velsanans share the same malady, something their neighbours have to best try and defend against, or perish.”

  Sef and Anton pondered her words as they walked on, the three of them continuing their dim passage, aided by Juvela’s gifted green luminescence.

  -

  They walked until their legs were heavy before finally stopping to rest. The air still moved, the draft feeling stronger along the road than it had at their campsite at the entrance. The stream also sang noisily.

  Sighs of relief sounded as they dropped their gear along one wall and unrolled their blankets. It had been a long day’s walk, one that had seen them travel far, though in such an endless tunnel, it was impossible to measure either how far they’d come or how long they’d marched.

  A haze of dust rose about them, scuffed up by their boots and their gear as it was dropped to the ground. Wisps of it twisted and rolled around in Sef’s green light, creating an eerie sight before being picked up by the draft and stolen away.

  Sef said, “The dust of centuries, all collected here.”

 
“Not just centuries, but a whole age,” Matraia corrected.

  “I suppose, but that’s a length of time too long for me to comprehend.”

  “Our world is in its fifth age. Each age is marked by the rise and fall of the Lae Velsanans, for when one of their grand dominions collapses, it doesn’t just shatter and reorder their civilisation, but indeed the entire world. What happened before their pursuit of the Dominions was one long age of calamity, although that was restricted to their own homeland – the lost continent of Velsana.”

  Sef answered, “I’ve heard of the rising seas and scorched cities, but you are saying that other tragedies have also befallen our world?”

  “Unae has suffered many times, and gravely, because of the calamities that their falling Dominions release. It’s hard to know with any certainty what has happened where, when and why. Even the Lae Velsanans have no complete record of the disasters, despite having a divinely appointed Chronicle to record their history. But the fact that such disasters have occurred, and in so many terrible ways, is a certainty.”

  “Like what? What could match the doom of flooding seas and burning skies?”

  Matraia said, “Famines caused by crafted blights that killed particular crops, or plagues concocted by one noble house or faction to render barren the women of their enemies.”

  “Mortals can make such things?”

  “They could, or so it’s said.”

  Sef was incredulous. “Who could ever conceive such evil?”

  “There’s more that’s hinted at – weapons that poison whole rivers or others that hide the sun for seasons at a time so crops fail.”

  “It’s madness!”

  She agreed. “Yes. And a madness that this world has endured time and again.”

  “So, this dust on the road is not just centuries old, but a whole age?”

  “Who knows... but it’s likely. I can tell you little for certain.”

  Anton nodded, joining the conversation. “Uncountable years, but hopefully it’ll be more comfortable than the gravel and rocks we’ve been sleeping on of late.”

  Sef smiled, but was so tired he could only nod.

  Matraia asked, “How far do you think we’ve come?”

  The big Flet answered, “Far enough to deserve a real bed and hot meal.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to make do with our blankets, bread, cheese and dried fruits,” Anton said with a chuckle.

  They sat and ate, and by the time they’d finished, most of the disturbed dust had been dragged away by the wind.

  Anton sighed. “My legs are heavy and sore; shall we call this night and take a break for sleep?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  “And what shall we do about a watch?”

  “We need one, as it’s possible that beasts of the mountains have made this place a home further ahead. Hopefully, having seen the way the dust gets kicked up, we will know before anything arrives – and there’s a good chance we will hear its approach echo as everything seems to do in this long and dead place.”

  Matraia offered, “I’ll watch first if you like?”

  “You have travelled well today, but I think you’re the most tired. Perhaps you should sleep?” Sef frowned.

  “I’ll be alright; it’s my legs that are exhausted, not my mind.”

  “So be it.” Sef took a swig of water and then lay down in his bedroll, and not long, after he was asleep.

  Anton didn’t waste any time either. Before long he was in his bedroll as well. “I’ve seen little in the way of tracks in the dust, only rats and insects, so we should be safe. Wake me for the second watch, and wake me long before you start to doze.”

  Matraia nodded.

  Quiet returned to the tunnel, which was not only wide but also had a roof that loomed high. Things hung from the ceiling in places, the green of Juvelas’s blessing barely illuminating the regularly spaced pipes or bars. They were part of the structure, perhaps there to support something else long ago wasted away. The dangling ruins did not look bulky enough to provide cover for anything that might call the tunnel home.

  Aside from the odd mound of rubble on the roadway, the stream or occasional crack and protruding pipes, the tunnel was mostly smooth and unremarkable under its thick coat of dust.

  Matraia sat her watch, only moving away to be beside the stream. She took her boots off and stood in it for a while, feeling the pulsing life of Dorloth, a power that reinvigorated her.

  She needed it.

  Needed it badly.

  It was not just healing her, but keeping her heart beating.

  She had marched on despite the poison wearing at her, and now felt truly drained. She needed to rest and recover. But she’d offered to take the first watch as she had hoped to spend most of it taking what healing she could from the stream, and to do so without Anton and Sef knowing. She did not want them to realise she was still struggling, even if the effects of the poison seemed to have eased.

  Eventually, she crossed the stream and sat down, resting her winged back against the far wall as she sat on a lump of rubble and left her feet in the cool flow.

  She sat there watching for as long as she could stay alert, soaking up the power of the water and the strength of Dorloth.

  The healing water was helping. She could feel it. As it had for days now. She carried several injuries, and not all of them were healing well. But she knew she just needed to get Sef and Anton through to the heart of Kalraith and to her people.

  She just needed to deliver them.

  For a long while she sat there leaning back against the wall. She watched the tunnel and listened, but also let her gaze rest on Sef and Anton, her fellow travellers.

  The two men were fast friends who had built a strong bond after past travails. She felt like she was intruding on them at times, but also relished it. They quite clearly had at one time been adversaries, yet now each would give their life to save the other.

  They were hope in human form.

  She could feel it pulse off them just as she could feel Dorloth’s power beating through the water, and that made them the ideal ambassadors to Dorloth.

  With a tired sigh, she got up to rouse Anton.

  -

  Anton’s watch began simply enough, but it wasn’t long before he rued volunteering for the middle stint. He had no way of telling how much time had passed, so he could only sit there until he was certain he’d managed a fair shift.

  A fair shift?

  He shook his head; here he was under the Pandike and a mountain, in the dark, with a winged woman and his best friend!

  Life was a ludicrous thing.

  While tired in body, his mind was alive. He hadn’t let his excitement show when talking to Sef and Matraia as they walked through this wonder, but to find such a relic of one of the Dominion’s golden ages was a rare thing.

  He wondered how mortals could build such things, and supposedly without magic!

  The dark arts of the machina always arose as a Dominion approached its zenith. He had noted from his studies that they burst out during the golden ages as a branch of undiscovered magic. Quickly and mercilessly they were exploited by the Lae Velsanans, just as that people did with so many things, until they eventually became part of the furious cacophony of violence that brought everything crashing down. It was as if the machina unbalanced the Dominion’s power structures in what was already a precarious and exceedingly competitive system.

  He’d harboured some doubts of what the holy scholars of the Church had said were truths from a secret and forgotten past, but here was such a big and solid piece of evidence that couldn’t be denied.

  It was a wonder.

  For a long time he sat in awe at what lay around them.

  But then he heard something, a soft scuff in the dirt and dust. Amidst the quiet hosting only the trickle of water and the low wail of the draft, the sound made him start and turn to peer into the dark.

  A small pair of red eyes shone low to the ground, out from
beyond the reach of Sef’s green light. With Anton now staring at them, they didn’t shift or move, simply continued to intently watch.

  Anton didn’t know how long they’d been there or what they wanted, only that the sound of movement had snagged his attention.

  He went to Sef and shook him awake as he pulled his knife from his belt. He then nudged Matraia’s leg gently with his boot, him then taking a step forward to place himself between the eyes and his fellows.

  Sef asked, “What is it?”

  “I don’t know – eyes in the dark – they gave me a scare. I heard something move, that’s what got my attention.”

  Sef rose to his feet and got his sword. “They look like rat eyes to me,” and as he spoke he grabbed up a piece of stone, long since fallen from the roof. With a gentle swing of his arm he sent it forward at the unblinking eyes and then stepped up, his blade raised.

  He also advanced their light when he moved forward.

  The stone landed with a thunk, making the eyes turn and then sending the creature scurrying away.

  He took another few steps after it, the light following, helping to illuminate the scene.

  For a brief moment, all three of them glimpsed the tail and body of what looked to be a large but hairless rat falling back in a cloud of stirred dust.

  Anton exclaimed, “That’s the biggest rat I’ve ever seen, as big as a dog!” And as his words finished, a hiss came from the dark before them, and then, in a flash of dark grey leathery skin and noise, another beast came into view. This one charged straight at them and reared up, standing bigger than the other, coming to be as high as Anton’s waist.

  Matraia pulled her knife out and gave a startled curse.

  Sef lifted his sword against it as he stepped back and drew away the light. “Yes, they are big!”

  The beast didn’t advance, just dropped down again and hissed.

  “Come, we should get going. We can sleep later.”

  More angry red eyes glared red in the dark.

  They quickly gathered their gear and got ready to march.

  All three of them glanced back at the downhill part of the tunnel where the eyes lingered, while thinking on what they’d just seen.