The Fall of Ossard (30 page)

The Opera House

Sef looked for somewhere to put me amidst the cobwebbed clutter of the opera house, it all lit by the blinding light flaring from my hand. In the end he settled on the first thing he saw that would hold me, a stage prop; an old and dusty divan.

He talked fast and looked worried as tears ran from his eyes. I couldn’t understand him, my mind running slow and haltingly. Still, the confusion eventually drained away to be replaced by a rising tide of excitement.

We were inside!

Kavists rushed past us to spread throughout the darkened building. This was it, the rescue of my family - and I lay prone!

Damn myself, this would never do!

It took a good deal of effort, but I found I could use the energy boiling within me to reawaken my stymied mind. I had to force it, and it hurt to work at, but I persevered as things improved.

That done, I set to work on my stuck muscles, as I tried to recover my mobility. I found I could ease the pain by losing myself in thoughts of Maria and Pedro and their proximity. Amongst those hopes, I could have endured anything.

Recovering movement happened quickly once I understood how to manipulate the magic, but it left my muscles heavy and stiff. Unsteadily I sat up, and then tried to get to my feet.

Sef panicked at my awkward attempt to rise, until I slurred, “I’ll be alright.” I swallowed and then added, “Please, see to the search, or we’ll be here all night.”

He stared at me in awe, so much so that I had to turn away. After recovering himself, he glanced at the shattered door and said, “Watch it, they might try and come in.”

I stretched my arm, the one that still held what remained of the flaring stone, and hurled it at the opening. It sprayed across the cobbles outside as it broke up to blaze with fresh fury. “No they won’t.”

He smiled in disbelief as his tears continued to run. “Be careful in any case, if they want to get in they’ll find a way. We won’t be able to stop them.”

I nodded. “Please, worry about Pedro and Maria.”

He turned to follow the others, but kept gazing back.

It was dim and quiet, with far too much of the space about me lost to shadow. A string of glowing orange-rimmed holes smouldered along the floorboards, they’d been born from where I’d dripped molten rock as I’d been dragged inside. None of it had caught to come aflame - and in that we’d been lucky.

One of the Kavists had lit a lantern he’d found, but here on the backstage, amidst countless rows of props and backdrops, anything could hide. Simply, we needed more light.

I took a deep breath and tried to grapple with some of the power still churning away within me. This time I had no rock, instead I grabbed a handful of coins from a prop treasure chest - they were wooden.

I closed my hands over them and prepared to make them glow, but not in the way I’d unconsciously ignited the stone. I released some of my power amidst thoughts of the moon’s silver-blue light. My hands tingled and the air cooled: It was done, whatever
it
was.

I hesitated in revealing it, so much so that I whispered a quick prayer to Schoperde before opening my cupped hands. And there the coins were, shining, but without the heat and glare of the cobblestone.

It was good.

I grabbed more and charged them, yet after a while my head began to ache. It left me wondering at my limits.

Limits…

To my mind, I’d still done nothing worthy of being burnt at the stake for. I needed to try harder things, yet now was no time for experiments.

I scattered the coins around the backstage and passed on handfuls to the Kavists so they could better light their own way.

It wasn’t long before we’d covered the backstage, the main stage, and the dressing rooms. Still, even with the light of the coins and an increasing number of lanterns, far too many shadows remained.

I followed Sef through the curtains and onto the stage. The light we had with us barely reached the first few rows of benches. I charged another handful of coins and threw them out into the dark. I sighed and said, “We’d need fifty men to search this place.”

Sef answered, “Yes, and more to defend it. It’s too big. We’ll get straight to the cellar and then out.”

We both stood there looking at row after row of seating and the shadows that waited beyond.

He said, “You could hide a hundred people out there, and that’s without any kind of magic.”

As if in answer, the roof beams above creaked. Was it just the movement of the building, perhaps the wind, or someone up there hiding amongst the rigging? Could Mortigi’s followers have found a way in, and even now be creeping about searching for fresh kills? Aside from the faint outlines of rafters and dangling ropes, the detail of the heights remained a mystery. Sef was right; we had to concentrate on getting to the cellar, and then out.

He said, “Don’t worry, if they’re here we’ll find them.”

His presence was reassuring, as it always had been.

He called out for two Kavists to watch the theatre hall as we returned to the backstage.

Cherub came looking for us moments later. The big man said, “Found it, it’s back here!” And he pointed down a coin-lit passage.

My heart raced, something only doubled when Sef smiled and patted me on the shoulder. He gathered five Kavists and set the rest on watches.

Cherub led us down the dusty and worn corridor made narrower by racks of covered costumes on one side. Half way along we came to a door that had a sign above it. I couldn’t read, but guessed it said
cellar
as Sef and Cherub both swapped knowing glances.

I whispered, “Did you go in?”

His voice rumbled, “It’s locked, so I thought I’d get some help.”

Sef nodded. “Alright, let’s get ready. Juvela, stand back and let them through.”

Reluctantly I stepped back.

They bowed their heads in prayer, the whispered chant the only sound to disturb the quiet.

For the first time since leaving Newbank, I began to feel uneasy. We were so close, but it could all still go so wrong. A panicked guard might use them as hostages, or shields, or even kill them. Maybe even now the cultists rushed through their ritual.

The anxiety building within me nearly won out, almost making me cry for Sef and his fellows to stop. Before I could say a thing, though, Sef nodded, and Cherub rammed his shoulder into the door.

It didn’t stand a chance.

The door exploded in a shower of snapping planks and splinters, its ruins following him as he charged down the stairs and into the dark. He carried his sword in one hand while the other flung my charmed coins about.

If the big Kavist’s arrival hadn’t brought enough chaos to the cellar, the others who followed him certainly did. They all cried out, and showered wooden coins about, while carrying their swords ready.

I slumped against the wall unable to watch.

Sef gave me a sympathetic look, but it faded along with his cool confidence.

Something was wrong…

He turned to the doorway as his brow furrowed and nostrils flared.

I could smell it too.

Death…

The yelling died down beneath us as disappointment soured its tones.

Sef called out, “Well?”

Cherub answered, “They’ve gone!”

Sef led me down. “Watch the door.” Its ruin lay strewn the length of the stairs.

I descended fearing what I’d find at the bottom. Before I reached it I was trembling and covered in a cold sweat.

The kidnap victims had been there and two of them still were - dead.

It wasn’t Pedro and Maria or Lord and Lady Liberigo, so I let out a selfish sigh of relief. The unfortunates were Heletian; an old woman and a young man. I didn’t recognise them. They’d been left hung from chains and their throats slit.

Piles of flattened hay lined one of the damp cellar walls. It had been used as bedding. I walked its length until I reached a corner. Somehow I could sense who’d lain there; my husband and daughter. Dropping to my knees I put a hand to it.

It was still warm!

Tears flooded my eyes.

So close!

Amidst my disappointment came something cold and bitter, it whispering to me with a celestial voice, “They were still there when you were showing off in the alley.” It was Lady Death.

My heart sank.

While I’d been using my meagre skills against her hunting pack, my daughter and husband had been spirited away.

In a hoarse voice, I said, “Let’s get out of here. They may have planned a trap.”

Sef nodded, but got some of his fellows to search the room for anything of import while he led me back up the stairs.

We withdrew and fell back through Ossard’s alleyways. Sef and four others took me back to the river, and then saw me safely across to home.

Before they left me to rejoin their brothers, Sef said, “Juvela, the search hasn’t ended. I’ll watch for them tonight. We’ll begin afresh if we have to tomorrow. Have faith.”

I stepped forward and embraced him. “Thank you Sef, be careful.” The move embarrassed him, but he didn’t fight it. After a moment he even returned it with feeling.

“Take care, Juvela, and eat before you retire. Your castings will have drained you.”

I nodded and watched them leave before turning to go inside.

My home was cold and quiet. The maid wasn’t about or her belongings. Like so many others, it seemed she was frightened of me and had fled. After walking the abandoned halls with only the rhythm of my footsteps for company, I retreated upstairs.

My bedroom only seemed emptier.

I sat on the edge of my bed and tried to kick off my boots, only to end up wrestling with them. The effort made me angry - and then came the tears.

Eventually I found myself barefoot on the balcony in the cold night air. I needed no goading to join the chorus that rang out across Newbank; Schoperde’s song of sorrow.

It felt good singing its long and mournful notes. Through it I burned away some of my grief and disappointment, and rediscovered my resolve. I would find my family, I had to, and I’d discover how they’d been moved moments before our arrival.

How did they know we were coming?

17

Momentous Times Indeed

Eventually, I left the balcony and sat on my bed where I cradled my grandmother’s tome. I was exhausted, but still fell into a restless urge to search for my family, to at least do something. From there I dipped my perception into the next world and began to search through a city-state of a million souls. I started the hunt at the celestial equivalent of the opera house, and then spread towards the port and the south.

It was tedious work involving far too many souls - still, I persisted. I also supposed whoever held them would be using some kind of shielding magic to keep them hidden, as they had before. Nevertheless, I continued.

Sef roused me from my hopeless search midmorning, to drag me from its misery. Of them, I’d not found a hint.

“Juvela, don’t fret, we’ll find them,” he said grave-faced.

My eyes burned from my tears. I’d also become cramped and lost to shivers, something that saw my voice shake, and my breath wheeze. All of it only made Sef fuss over me like my mother.

With a hoarse voice, I said, “Sef, I’m alright!”

“You look terrible…”

“Really Sef, I’m just a little tired.”

“You haven’t eaten, have you?”

“No.”

“Or slept?”

“No.” So lost in my misery, it hadn’t occurred to me. My stomach growled. I tried to laugh at its timing, but the sound came from me as a weak rattle that sent aches shooting through my chest.

“Juvela, you have to understand that magic is a taxing thing. I know what you did last night might seem simple, but I could feel the power you gathered, and the way it surged and boiled.” He knelt down in front of me with concern in his eyes. “You keep a great well of power in there,” he pointed to my belly, “but crafted only the smallest portion of it. To do so, to gather such energy and not spend it, or recover by properly resting and eating, will only see you waste away.”