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

by Colin Taber

  “Ready?” Sef asked.

  “And eager,” answered Anton.

  Matraia, seeming to be quite tense, kept staring into the dark, where the eyes still watched.

  Sef said, “We’ll take turns walking forward and watching our rear. We’ll have to keep our blades out. I don’t think we should stop again until we can find something to use as a shelter, like maybe a rockfall.”

  She said, “I’ll not argue with you on that. I’ve suddenly lost all interest in sleep.”

  So they moved on as quickly as they dared, taking stints of two leading while another watched their rear. Occasionally they caught the glint of red eyes or heard the scratch of claws on rock or rubble, but for now they kept ahead of their unwelcomed company.

  -

  They walked for what seemed to be an age. Forever moving forward as the road stayed straight for long stretches, but occasionally worked their way around gentle curves, while continuing the slight rise which sent the stream on its way down to the distant lake. Breaks and cracks in the walls, roof, and floor became worse after a while, so much so that at one point they had to climb up to the road surface where a two paces high fracture running across the tunnel had lifted the entire road. The same break turned the stream into a noisy waterfall that echoed through the tunnel in both directions for a great distance.

  When they’d clambered up the fracture and got back onto the roadway, Anton wondered aloud, “I doubt it’ll stop those creatures, but it may do something to at least slow them down.”

  The red eyes had followed them relentlessly, preferring to not get close enough to chance the green light, but whenever the rear was checked, they were always there. The number varied from a few to a half dozen.

  The travellers did not pause after this first barrier to see if it slowed the pursuit; they just continued on.

  The further they went, the more they studied the tunnel and the more it revealed. At one point, walking close to the stream where it had gathered tightly to one side, running swiftly along the wall, Anton noticed drains under it, but that they were flooded and plugged with rubble, dirt and debris.

  He pointed it out to his fellows. “If there are drains, then they will run underneath us as other, smaller tunnels. This road may not be the only path.”

  As timeless and intact as some sections of the road looked to be, the truth was that even it, hidden away from all the dying horrors of the world it was a relic of, had suffered damage.

  There were sections that revealed not just cracks. or small rock falls, but damage much more grave. In one place a patch of floor had collapsed into a void below, most of it lay flooded by the stream that had gathered to pool there before continuing. Carefully, they had to walk along a narrow ledge of remaining roadway on the opposite side from where the stream normally ran, while watching the floor in the dim light, making sure they didn’t miss a step and slip into what they supposed was either a flooded cave or perhaps part of the tunnel’s drainage system.

  After several such obstacles, Anton sighed and said, “Do you think we’ve put enough obstacles behind us to keep our friends at bay?”

  Matraia shrugged, but stayed quiet as she searched the dark.

  Sef said, “I can’t say for sure, but I hope so.”

  Matraia whispered, “I’m exhausted.”

  He answered, “Yes. We need to find a place to stop.”

  Anton observed, “They look like a kind of hairless rat, but aren’t.”

  “No, they’re not, and they’re bigger.” Sef then turned to Matraia who looked away, feigning a return to a search of the dark for the following creatures. “Matraia, do you have any idea of what they are?”

  Anton also turned to her, making her finally look back at them to meet their gaze.

  She took a deep breath and said, “I know something of them.”

  “Yes? I think we need to know,” Sef said.

  “They are related to the gargoyles, but are wingless and grounded.”

  “Related to the gargoyles?” Anton asked.

  “Well, we don’t know for certain or how, but where gargoyles can be found, these vermin also gather. They live beneath them, in the litter of stick, stones and bones of their towers. They feed off their refuse. They are dangerous in numbers, but not smart, and more than anything, they are unclean.”

  “Unclean?”

  “They live in the filth of the gargoyles, and their teeth and claws are said to be heavy with poison.”

  “What do you call these vermin?” Anton asked.

  “They are Surloyle, which means ‘shadows of the soil’.”

  “And how long have they been around?”

  “A few centuries, not that long in the way of things. They are always found in the shadows of the gargoyle swarm.”

  “Meaning?”

  “We’re probably passing under one of the gargoyle troiths at the moment.”

  Anton’s eyes went wide. “Oh.”

  Sef’s hand went straight to the hilt of his sword.

  Matraia relaxed a little, relieved at having shared the knowledge, as she said, “Oh, indeed.”

  Sef asked, “So, what would you suggest?”

  “What do you mean... as in should we keep going or alter our plans?”

  “Yes.”

  “We keep going, if but perhaps faster. Now we dare not rest.”

  Anton enquired, “And what of the gargoyles... are they allied to these vermin? Will they come down here? Do they dwell under mountains, or just around their crags and peaks?”

  Her smile faded. “While the gargoyles like shadow, they also like to stay close to the open sky as they’re fliers like me. We’re not likely to see any down here – the space is too tight and constricted.”

  Sef noted her own distaste as she spoke of the confines of the tunnel, and then he turned back to face their path ahead. “Alright then, let’s keep going.”

  Chapter 13

  -

  A New Road

  -

  Marco’s Ruin, The Northcountry.

  Fel’s visit had been brief. After I watched him leave, the ship sailing down the sound and into the spring afternoon, I found myself alone in my thoughts and heart, but not in company.

  There was a chill in the air, and wisps of celestial mist.

  The Prince.

  He looked to me with his big, round eyes, the orbs crafted in spectral blue. “If you are ready for the truth, perhaps it is time, and for the preparations you will have to make.”

  “I want answers. I want the truth.”

  He nodded. “But not here.”

  That surprised me; where else could we go?

  He saw the question in my eyes, and said, “You will need to prepare for a trek into the mountains. You will need food, water, and warm clothes.”

  “When?”

  “We leave tomorrow at dawn, giving you the rest of today to make plans and say your goodbyes.”

  His words made it sound like such a final thing.

  I asked, “How long will we be gone... are we talking a few days?”

  “Longer, but you will return soon enough.”

  “Baruna and others will want to come...”

  “No. No one can accompany you. We go to a fallen Ogre city, a ruin, a place of tombs where you can learn, practice and focus, and do nothing wrong that can harm the living.”

  I frowned. “I have only just returned.” My lip quivered, as I added, “What of little Maria?”

  He shook his head. “If you wish to protect her so she may survive the coming travails, you will take this chance.”

  I could feel the truth in his words.

  He then insisted, “Now is the time to do this.”

  “And what of here?”

  “Marco’s Ruin will be here when you return. You only need to leave it in the reliable hands of Baruna and your parents.”

  “My people will insist on guards.”

  “You will not need them. You are a blade being taken for sharpening
, I am also a weapon. Besides, there are no dangers in Ba Er Kaan, as the city is long dead.”

  I nodded. I knew I would be safe with him, but other dangers would be present. I could feel them. They wouldn’t be in the mountains or hiding in the ruined city, but were the ones I was born to unleash.

  We were coming to the end of my purpose, and while it was still a ways away, the notion that all this might soon be over terrified me.

  -

  I told only the few who needed to know about my journey and being accompanied solely by the prince. They – Grenda, Baruna and Kurt, and my parents and little Maria – were not happy about it.

  But I insisted. It was time for me to learn my truth.

  Our small group had walked into the canyons behind Marco’s Ruin, passing gardens, following the hot spring fed streams, and stopping at the heartwood to say our goodbyes. There, under the shade of the mother of rosetrees, we shared our last words.

  Saying goodbye to my daughter was the most difficult part. She was young and unwilling to let me leave again after all that had happened over the past year.

  I was only too conscious of how little time I spent with her. And now I was going to spend even less.

  With six years behind her, she looked at me with her ice blue eyes and long dark hair, and then sought a promise, “Mama, you have been too much. You cannot go again!”

  Her voice, breaking with insistence, cut right to my heart.

  I said, “Maria, my darling, I am sorry, but I must go away again.”

  “No. Everyone goes, but not everyone comes back.”

  She was thinking of her dead father.

  I hugged her tight. “I will. I will come back for you.”

  She started to cry. “Promise?”

  My own tears gathered as I looked at the Prince.

  He watched us all coldly, focused on what lay before us, not the fears of a little girl.

  Grenda, although unhappy to hear I was leaving, interceded on my behalf. “Little Maria, your mother must go, although none of us here wish to see her leave. But here, under the branches of the mother of the rosetrees, I seek a promise from the Prince that he will see your mother returned safely, not just to you, but to all of us.”

  The Prince conceded, having said little until this point. “She must travel alone. She will face trials, but will also learn much. She will return.” He turned to meet Little Maria’s gaze. “Your mother will be back, and soon enough.”

  -

  The Prince and I took a path that wound through the lush woods of the canyons, heading deeper in and climbing higher with the streams. We took several tunnels that passed into other canyons, always stepping higher as we left the coastal ruins behind and began our trek into the mountains.

  Finally, we reached a gorge that was more rock and shrub, and with no trees. The hot springs had also been left behind, although there was still plenty of water around for drinking.

  The Prince said, “This way... we are now leaving behind the sacred gardens that are joined to the heartwood.” He led me up a rocky path that climbed the side of the gorge.

  I noticed the entire gorge was in shadow as we approached the end of the day, so I asked, “Will we reach the city tonight, this Ba Er Kaan?”

  “We will camp at a gate ahead. Tomorrow morning we will take a secret door out of the gorge and into the mountains. There we will join the ancient road that leads to Ba Er Kaan.”

  -

  I slept in an ancient gatehouse carved into the stone of the gorge. Everything was oversized, for me, but not for the Prince, just like in Marco’s Ruin. It was sheltered from the wind but cool, as we had climbed some height. Already my legs were sore, but we had a warm fire, and I slept well during the night.

  At dawn, when I awoke stiff and cold to a campfire of ash, I asked the Prince, “How far to the city?”

  “We continue as soon as you are ready and will camp two more nights on the road.”

  I packed up my gear. Rolling my bedroll reminded me of Sef and Anton’s own journey.

  -

  We passed through a stone gate, one opened by a magic word whispered by the Prince. When it rolled aside, it revealed a high, empty mountain road that passed before us, clinging to the cliffside. The wind blustered and wailed, but the morning sun shone strong. The other side of the road dropped starkly, spreading as rugged slopes before finally joining the lower green vales we could see in the distance.

  With no ceremony, the Prince said, “Come, this is the way.”

  -

  The mountain road was exactly that – a road either clinging to sheer cliffs or cutting into steep rocky slopes, nonetheless giving both breathless views and a dose of giddy anxiety. I couldn’t believe it existed. Wide and mostly clear, aside from the odd pile of rubble that had slid down the mountainside from above, it was still intact, but so very old. “This is an ancient road, isn’t it, one built by your people but that hasn’t seen traffic for an age?”

  “Grae ru.”

  He said no more, leaving me to think that was all I was going to get from him, but finally, after we had walked on, he said, “This was once the main road between Ba Er Kaan and the city of Ba Tel Ora, which used to sit in the valley beyond our monastery. That city is now underwater, drowned like so much of the world by the Lae Velsanas during the fall of one of their cursed dominions.”

  “If Ba Tel Ora was lost to the sea, what happened to Ba Er Kaan?

  “You know the truth, even if you do not want to give voice to it.”

  “The Heletians... during the campaigns of Saint Baimio?”

  “Grae ru.”

  We walked on while I considered that.

  For once, he offered more. “Saint Baimio himself came here, only to discover a city already weakened by war with the Lae Velsanans, and a civilisation struggling due to the rising seas. This was not part of his campaign to take the Sidian. As you know, that great valley is far to the south and now the heart of Greater Baimiopia. This was merely his example that encouraged others. In time, Ba Er Kaan was overrun and looted. Now it is not even remembered by those who destroyed it, not in name, nor in deed.”

  Chapter 14

  -

  The Long Road

  -

  The Varm Carga, the island of Kalraith.

  They’d walked for a long while, too long perhaps, if truth be known. They drank from the stream and felt the pulse of Dorloth’s power flow through them, yet they were exhausted and such a charge or blessing, unfocussed and accidental, wasn’t enough to keep them forever going. Particularly when one of their number, Matraia, was still affected by her poisoning.

  So, for now, they walked and occasionally stumbled, while whoever amongst them was supposed to be watching their backs soon forgot to see if any of the red eyes had returned to follow in the dark behind them.

  Each knew they were exhausted and needed to stop, but they pushed to get a little further ahead. In so doing, they made what conversation they could as they tried to pass the time and keep their fellows alert.

  Anton cleared his throat and asked, “How do you think we’re progressing?”

  After a moment, Sef answered, “I’ve no idea, but we must have come a fair way.”

  Matraia sighed, but smiled. “I hope so; my legs are heavy and the muscles burn.”

  Sef chuckled, but there was sympathy in his voice, “You probably have the strongest legs of all the Dagruan.”

  “I’ll try to remember that,” she said with a tired smile.

  Anton laughed softly beside her as they marched into the gloom.

  Knowing they weren’t alone, they tried to be extra vigilant, but it was hard when so exhausted, although after the last few obstacles they had not seen the red eyes return.

  Occasionally, they noticed droppings here and there, sometimes in great numbers, usually by some of the wider cracks they passed in the sidewalls.

  Sef observed. “Notice that there are no droppings by the water.”

  Anton ans
wered with a shrug, “What of it?”

  “They don’t drink from the stream that carries an echo of Dorloth. Perhaps they find it unpalatable.”

  Anton raised an eyebrow. “An interesting idea. I suspect there is a lot of water to be found here, including in adjacent tunnels unknown to us, but you are right to suggest they don’t seem to drink from the stream.”

  Eventually, they came upon a series of cracks in a section of side wall that were wide enough to reveal there was something beyond. The space looked to be a natural cavity, and was linked to other caves. As they paused to investigate, they noticed they could feel another flow of air coming from these rougher tunnels, the draft heavy with a musky scent.

  They stood looking at the rough entrance of jagged stone, all of it bathed in Sef’s dim light. As they did, they also noticed countless tracks at its mouth that had worn away at the pervasive layer of dust coating everything in the subterranean world they now found themselves in.

  The three of them stood arrayed around the silent and dark opening that contributed the stink of those who lay somewhere beyond.

  Even the green light of Juvela faltered here, shining as it had on the road, but struggling to illuminate these caves beyond.

  And then, from far in the distance, echoing along this newer, claw-dug tunnel, they heard something from within – the rustle of a large body as it shifted.

  Sef felt a chill settle on him, the sensation unnatural and stark.

  Beside him, Anton let out a hushed gasp.

  The thing beyond them had briefly become aware of them – and whatever it was wasn’t a mindless creature operating on instinct, but something far more significant.

  Matraia paled and took a step back. A strangled sound escaped her throat, woven of both fright and surprise.

  Sef hissed, “What is it?”

  She stepped back again. “We have to go... we have to get away from here!”

  Anton’s pulled his knife and gasped. “Yes, we need to go now!”

  Sef could feel the chill in his soul deepening, a rising stink drifting on the breeze that issued from the dark opening.