The Fall of Ossard (45 page)

All else in Ossard is corrupt, that’s why we follow Juvela.

Kurgar couldn’t be involved in the kidnappings, could he? It had to be a mistake. If he was involved, then he was linked to the new saints, which meant the Reformers already held two-thirds of the city.

All was lost!

Felmaradis was right; the Inquisitor, the man who’d ordered my death, was the city’s only hope.

As the shock of it all faded, my anger only grew.

All along Kurgar had wanted an alliance with the Reformers and been annoyed by my objections. I’d also been searching all of Ossard for Maria and Pedro except Newbank, where I thought they could never be.

Damn, I was getting angry!

And that fury stirred my power. I could feel the air about me cool and hear it crackle with energy that leaked between worlds. Amidst my rising rage a wave of black sparks rippled out from me to glitter in the dirt.

Sef and the others jumped back, startled.

Baruna said, “Juvela, you’ve great power, but you must control it!”

I just wanted my family back - and to destroy their looming prison brick by brick…

…yet Baruna spoke sense.

I had to stay in control. If I left it to my anger, I’d level the tower in one terrible moment, bringing its bulk crashing down upon the slums. I could wrap my family in a protective bubble and save them, but only after trading their lives for hundreds of others.

I looked to Sef. “I want to get them now. If we leave to come back later they’ll just get moved. They already know we’re here because of the cultist I followed.”

He nodded. “Juvela, I agree, but we must be careful. When we do this we’ll be turning the Guild against us and perhaps all of Newbank - and so much more.”

He was right, and the
more
he spoke of was his fellow Kavists. If we moved, we’d have no friends left in Newbank and the wider city. We’d no longer have a choice; we’d have to leave.

Baruna said, “Don’t worry, we’ll get your family, but let’s also ready our flight from Ossard.”

I nodded. “Sef, do you know much about the tower? Can we get into it or do we need help? I feel like I can unleash enough power to bring it down, but not handle it carefully enough to do much else.”

He shrugged. “I’ve passed it a hundred times, but never been inside. They left it standing when they dismantled the old wall. I’d expect its layout to be unremarkable, much like the new wall’s towers. Getting in will be the hard part, and then having the strength to overcome whatever force awaits. It can’t be big in numbers, or I’d have heard about such a thing, but if they’re cultists they might also have priests.”

I was still on my knees with my fingers digging into the hard packed dirt. Throughout the conversation I’d sent feelings of warmth and comfort to Maria, feelings she returned.

Sef said, “We can’t stay here like this, it’s drawing attention.”

“We can’t just leave!”

“Do you still have Maria?”

“Yes.”

“And Pedro’s with her?”

“No, they’re… they’re bleeding him.”

Sef winced, but he wasn’t alone. “Can you contact him, I mean, how can we know where he is?”

Some of my determination faded. “No, I can’t, only Maria.” And I could guess what Sef’s next words would be.

“If we go in and get Maria, you’ll lose your only link to Pedro. We need to get them when they’re together.”

He was right; we’d have to wait.

Distant screams and the clash of fighting drifted to us, coming with a growing haze of smoke. It sounded close; the battle for the city had again crossed the river.

“Ossard
is
chaos,” I whispered.

Sef said, “If the building was owned by any other, I’d just fetch some of my fellows.”

Marco asked, “If the Kavists knew of Kurgar’s part in all this, would they not switch sides?”

“Seig is our senior priest and close to Kurgar. He must know what’s going on. It sickens me to say it, but I think this has his blessing.” He paused before adding, “Perhaps that’s how they knew we were coming when we went to the opera house.”

“Perhaps.”

Sef looked defeated.

I reached up to him with a hand, putting it softly into his.

Poor Sef, my poor Sef, not only did he feel guilty for the stealing away of Maria, his charge, but also for the failure of our rescue attempt.

Something of a smile came to his face at my touch, and I could feel a tingle as power flowed between us. I’d not meant to do anything but comfort him, and I did, but it came as a blessing. “It’ll be alright, Sef.”

The sound of fighting rumbled on, coming from the river and also to the east. All the while the drifting smoke grew thicker.

Marco offered, “Our own people can help; while most can work on readying to leaving the city, someone unknown to the cultists can stay here to watch over the tower before we return in force.”

Someone unknown? Obviously, he didn’t mean Sef or I.

“A good idea,” said Sef.

Marco went on, “In the meantime, as we move against the tower, we can arrange for our people to leave the city and regroup beyond its walls.”

The rising sounds of trouble saw the square begin to empty about us.

Baruna said, “This could be our last day in the city.”

Sef nodded. “We have to think of that; our last chance to pack supplies, seek out carts and drivers, and food and herbals.”

I hated the idea of leaving Maria again, particularly if Pedro was hurt, but they were right. Besides, I couldn’t go in there when they were handling him, they might kill him. Finally, I said, “Alright, but we move tonight.”

They agreed.

I added, “We also know that the Reformers are getting ready for a big ritual, so let’s get as many people out of Ossard as we can. Tell people you trust, but no Reformers.” I looked to Sef. “I’m sorry, but that has to include other Kavists.”

He nodded as his face flushed with shame.

I sent a message of parting to Maria, a sweet and loving goodbye. I promised to return soon, for her and her father, and for her to be brave. Reluctantly, I then lifted my hands from the dirt to break our link.

And straight away I knew it was the wrong thing to do. “Sef, I can’t leave them again! We were so close at the opera house, and now we’re only closer, yet still it can all go so wrong. Perhaps we should just wait for Maria to tell us when Pedro’s back and then go get them?”

Sef held great worry in his eyes. “Juvela, listen to the riots, they worsen and near and so does their flames. We need to go, prepare, and then come back. We can’t wait here. For all we know, Pedro may never return to Maria.”

Sef’s words were hard to accept.

My grandmother whispered, it passing through my mind like a cool winter breeze, “Leave them, Juvela, they’ll keep for another time.”

“Sorry, this is so hard for me.”

Marco said, “I’ll stay and watch the tower. I’ll get a cloak from a stall, and then hunker down amidst the refugees.”

I could trust him. I stepped forward and embraced him, it seeing my magic flare - a blessing. He drew himself back from me to look with wide eyes as his voice sounded, but only in my head, “Juvela, sweet Juvela, I can taste your love for them, for your family. I’ll not fail you. Can you feel me, my heart, mind and spirit?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Aloud he said, “Go and know I’ll tell you of anything that happens here, otherwise I’ll see you when you return.”

“I’m so grateful. I don’t know how to thank you.”

He smiled, a warm and gentle thing. “For you I’d do anything.”

“Oh Marco, this is no time for reckless sacrifices.”

“But it is; in a dying city, that’s what will make all the difference.”

“Marco, I ask nothing of you.”

“But for Ossard’s Rose, our Lady of Hope, I’m prepared to give everything. Atalia told me that you were true, and now I’ve seen you, yet you’re still to fully awaken.”

We stepped back from each other as I whispered, “I’ve seen your daughter and wife in the next world; they send their love.”

He drew me back into his arms. “A daughter; you bring such hope!” Then he let go.

We got Marco a hooded cloak from a closing stall and left. He came with us before wrapping himself in it, and then turned back. He planned to settle into position in an alleyway opposite the tower’s entrance, huddled amidst a group of refugees.

The rest of us headed back towards our coach. From there we’d go home and prepare for our return to the slums, but also organise for our people’s flight from the city.

The smoke thickened about us. Soon enough we passed a burning building, and not much after, our first body.

The curse of the riots had well and truly returned.

Those left in the open were hurrying through the haze, appearing as nothing but rushing shadows. I hoped Marco would be safe.

Walking in a group, our number became lost in the billowing smoke. Our world was one of dim light, haze, and the flaring flash of flames. I called out, “If we get separated, just head for home.” I kept on while watching the silhouettes about me, all the while hoping that they were my people, but only Sef answered.

Lost in the murk, a huge figure loomed ahead.

Sef cried out, “Cherub!”

The big Flet answered, “Ho Sef, Juvela, the Loyalists are about!”

Sef asked, “In Newbank?”

“Yes, a reprisal for Market Square. They’ve got scores across, all hidden amidst the ferry traffic. They’ve been creating trouble ever since.”

Sounds of fresh fighting came from the river, seeing Cherub’s eyes light up. “I must get on, but be careful!”

We moved on in deepening dread; we both knew we’d lost our fellows.

Sef said, “Kurt should’ve had the sense to take the coach and go.”

I’d have answered him, but I couldn’t. A strong hand had clamped over my mouth, holding a wet and stinking cloth. I tried to scream, to make some kind of sound, but Sef was already stepping away while a figure darted after him.

My mouth filled with a bitter taste, it coming from some kind of herbal brew plastered over the cloth. Given a moment more - a chance for my surprise to fade - and I‘d have unleashed some of my pent-up power.

Instead I passed out.

23

Alone Again

I awoke in a cell, a place seemingly built of the cold and the dark. Before long I came to my senses enough to discover there wasn’t much more to it; just three stonewalls, a matching floor, and a run of rough iron bars. A passage beyond held the only light that dared illuminate the dim world I’d entered. Out there the glow of a candle flickered in a silence so complete that I could hear its wick choking on the cheap tallow that fuelled it.

I lay on my stomach as I tried to rally the strength to rise. My head hurt, it heavy and hazed, and my vision spun every time I blinked.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

With a deep breath, I began to move to sit up.

It didn’t happen. Just tensing my muscles earned me a feeling of nausea strong and almost complete. It convinced me that the chilling stones of the floor were comfortable enough for now, or so I thought - my movement had been noticed.

A Heletian man said, “She’s awake, send word.”

The sound of footsteps drifted away.

The nausea also waned, for my senses had found something else to distract them.

Something small hit my back, and again, and then another. Each impact, not uncomfortable or hard, came with the sound of a dry pitter patter. Whatever was hitting me was bouncing off to roll along the floor. A scent filled the air. I knew it. Even through my haze I made the connection.

Garlic?

A tense voice asked, “Are you sure this stuff will work?”

“Aren’t you?”

Nervous laughter.

The first voice said, “Don’t worry, he’ll be here soon. He’s been after her for a while, and you know how particular he is. He wouldn’t leave her in our care if he thought she’d get away.”

The Inquisitor?

“Yeah, but she’s a witch…”

So, it was the Inquisitor.

“…how’d we know she won’t just break the bars and walk out of here?”