The Fall of Ossard (25 page)

He shook his head in disbelief, yet still managed to balance his surprise with a practical suggestion. “This’ll be a good time for us to look around, while they’re distracted.” He reached over and passed me a plain robe. “Put this on with its hood up to hide your blonde hair. Hopefully they won’t recognise you, but if they do let’s be ready to get back to the coach and out of here.”

“Yes.”

Sef opened the door and jumped down to the cobbles, using the coach to hide us from the crowd. He helped me down and said to Kurt, “Wait for a while. When we’re well on our way, I want you to go over by those buildings and keep an eye on us. Watch me for signals, and the crowd for trouble, otherwise meet us when we reach the other side.”

Kurt nodded, but looked nervous. He’d only served my household for a season, and by the look of him I wondered if he’d still be in my pay by dusk.

I turned to face the warehouse’s ruin, a black and grey wasted mess. Taking a deep breath, I took my first step.

Sef whispered, “We must be quick, the crowd will grow with news of the boy’s return.”

He was right.

Not long after, as we made our way into the charred ruin, Kurt moved the coach to where Sef had instructed. While I concentrated on the search, I could see Sef glancing back. He whispered, “Already some watch us.”

I wasn’t sure if I’d be recognised, but as the Forsaken Lady I seemed as well known as the Benefice or poor Lord Liberigo. Still, there was nothing for it, but to try and do what we’d come here to do.

Step after step, nothing much remained. What had once been a sprawling warehouse, and the site of powerful ritual magic, now lay as a field of charred posts, charcoal, and ash.

Up ahead, a cluster of shoulder-high lumps rose blackened and lopsided - the remains of the ritual’s victims.

Approaching them chilled me even though they’d lost all their features. Now they loomed like a set of fire-scorched monoliths.

The wind picked up, the gust lifting the ash as a fine dark haze. Amidst its bluster, I could hear the moans of the dead coming from the celestial to haunt this terrible place.

My steps became slower and my breathing deeper, but I continued on as I neared the mounds. On reaching the nearest, I saw that just past it opened the great hole that sank down into the blackened ground. It lay between the three monoliths, yawning wide and now plugged with rubble and ruin.

Sef followed, but slowed. He had no wish to come any closer.

I took a few more steps, absorbing the bleak and soot-covered scene.

What a waste…

Coming to a stop, I braced myself, and then let my vision drift into the celestial.

The bright sparks of energy that had flared here two nights before as the ritual’s residue were now gone. I looked closer to find that something subtler remained.

Shadows hung about me in that other world. Dark and insubstantial, they seemed lost and incomplete. They didn’t react to me, or each other, instead they just moved about senselessly.

They were something left over from the victims, perhaps their last gasps or thoughts. Sadly there was so little left that these
Shades
had no sense, no knowing, and certainly no chance at rebirth.

They were chilling, so much so that I had to pull away. With relief I returned my perception to the real world.

What power had been unleashed here?

Back in the real world, most of their bodies were also gone, taken by the ravages of the fire. The macabre towers in front of me were barely distinguishable from the slumped piles of charred timber that had been packed about their ruined forms. It was sickening.

I tried to sense if anything of interest lay nearby. It seemed like a good idea, but my mind became stabbed in a thousand places by the feelings, thoughts, and other sensations emanating from the crowd. The overwhelming force of it saw me stumble.

Sef asked, “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” I said as I gathered myself.

He nodded and turned back to check on the crowd.

Shaken as I was, I noticed sweat on his face and that he’d paled. “Sef, are
you
well?”

He turned to me and said, “I’ll manage, but it’s so uncomfortable.” After a moment, he added, “Can’t you feel it?”

“Yes,” I said, but answered too quickly. I wasn’t exactly sure what he meant - there was just so much to take in.

He realised. “Look at the ground, at the
focus
!”

My gaze fell down to the ash at our feet.

Dust rose from the charred soil, black and grey, it drifting across my boots to pass by. I followed a particular wisp of it as it climbed and tumbled, and after a moment realised that it wasn’t following a straight line. It travelled slowly along the edge of a circle, a wide circle, and that circle centred on the heart of the ritual.

I asked, “What is it?”

Sef was checking on the crowd. “I was hoping you’d know.”

Me?

He went on, “My guess is that it’s the seed of something, the seed of the ritual, perhaps the seed of power for all their rituals to come.”

I hated this, it all being such a mystery. Everybody else seemed to know so much more about what was going on.

I tried to settle down and focus myself. More than anything I’d come here looking for something that might indicate where Maria and Pedro were being held. That’s what I needed to worry about, nothing else.

Again I opened up to the celestial, but this time I listened specifically for Maria. I couldn’t be sure, but seeing as I hadn’t heard from her since her kidnapping, I assumed that my talent for it was quite limited. If she was close, maybe I’d hear something. For long moments I stood there, my perception half in the celestial world and half in the real.

Nothing…

I kept trying, listening, and sensing.

Nothing…

Searching and seeking, desperately straining.

Nothing…

Sef’s voice made me jump, “We should go.”

I followed his gaze; a growing number of the crowd were watching us. I nodded. Sef signalled to Kurt, and he in turn started to take the coach around to the far side of the ruin.

Sef said, “Don’t look back. Let’s just get moving and keep at a steady pace. If we don’t look nervous and don’t rush, perhaps we can get away before any of them think to stop us.”

I said, “Last time I looked, they seemed to be ignoring us.”

“That was a long time ago. The birds have stirred them since then.”

Birds?

I looked to the west where the sun had noticeably dropped. “What birds, what do you mean?”

Sef took hold of my arm and steered me forward. “Keep walking, I’ll watch your footing, but look up.”

I did.

A huge flock of gulls circled above. From their numbers, an endless stream of lone birds dove down towards us as if pointing. They’d pull up suddenly as they neared us, and then head back to rejoin the flock.

We were being marked.

Taking in the sight, I tilted my head further back, the movement freeing my robe’s hood to fall away.

Behind us, voices hissed, “The Forsaken Lady!”

The call was repeated as we neared the coach, Sef forcing me forward faster and faster.

He whispered, “You get in, I’ll ride with Kurt in case they try and climb aboard.”

I nodded while my mind raced; could I do something, some kind of witchery that might help stop the pursuit?

Footfalls sounded only strides away.

Sef’s other hand dropped to the hilt of his sword. “They’ll try and stop us,” he whispered.

Our coach was close, only a dozen paces ahead. I watched as Kurt slowly reached for his own weapon.

I wanted to run, but Sef hissed. He knew any sudden move would bring them onto us.

Kurt sat with his eyes on us, his look indifferent. He refused to look at the mob, but it was clear there were many of them, and the growing murmur of their voices only confirmed it.

With a few paces left, Sef whispered, “I’m going to push you forward, don’t stumble, just get in the coach and out of my sword’s way.”

“Yes,” I answered with a dry throat as I cursed my own mind’s emptiness. Surely there was something I could do to help? Where was my damn witchery?

The push came and I literally flew, landing hard against the coach door. Behind me, I heard Sef’s sword ring as it slid free of its scabbard.

I jumped onto the step, got inside, and then turned about to check on Sef. He stood there with his sword out, the blade held high and ready.

In front of him, a crowd spread several deep, with more crossing the charred ruin. Someone yelled, “Forsaken whore, you’ll damn us all!”

I growled, “Leave or I
will
damn you!”

The noise of the mob died.

I held my face firm and tried to look dangerous.

The mob glared back, but none of them moved.

Sef reached behind him with his free hand to grab at the coach’s railing. All the while he swung his sword back and forth, and then yelled, “Kurt, go man, go!”

Our driver didn’t need encouragement.

Sef jumped up for the coach’s step while holding onto the rail.

We lurched forward and sped up to leave the crowd behind. They yelled their curses, some of them picking up half-burnt timber from amidst the ruin to hurl after us.

Sef slid inside and then closed the door. He opened the front port and said to Kurt, “Take us back to Newbank, but keep away from crowds.”

He didn’t need to be told.

The ride home should have been fast and uneventful - it wasn’t. Kurt planned on skirting the heart of the city by heading for the docks and using lesser streets, that way he would follow the river and get us back to Newbank.

The port’s streets were strangely quiet, and the docks almost abandoned. It became clear why when we looked back over the city.

In several places towards Market Square, great columns of oily black smoke arose. As we studied the soot-dusting plumes, we noticed more of them further back, and about those twisting pillars many lesser but similar trails off to their western side.

Sef said, “The riots are getting worse.”

Kurt brought the coach to a stop and then slid open the front port. “There’s a second group of fires further back,” he paused before adding, “I think it’s Newbank.”

I had a terrible feeling he was right.

Did the Guild still stand?

I’d never felt myself to be a person ruled by overly strong feelings for my people, but at that point, with my mind filling with memories of our dark past, of a history of murders, massacres, and genocide, a sense of duty stirred in my breast. Its depth surprised me. If my people were in trouble, I needed to help them. On top of that, I still had to try and find my family. Could I do both?

Damn it, I’d try!

And in that moment, the power within me began to stir. Spirits gathered around my soul, I could feel them, and amongst them was my haunting grandmother.

In my mind, I screamed at her with frustration, “Show me what to do!”

She didn’t answer.

My perception slid into the next world, and for the first time I saw her: She appeared stark against that dark void, all painted in the bright hues of celestial blue. In some ways her pale face was like my mother’s, but her eyes were nothing but deep pools of sorrow. Long hair blew wildly about her, it moving quickly as if caught in a rugged gale; that lively action was matched by her billowing dress, the motion, on one so dead, gave her a strange sense of the vital.

She was searching my soul, her own face plagued by frustration.

It was then that I realised her dress was woven of flame and smoke, her whole spirit defined by her fiery death.

And all the while my power stirred, growing restless, yet somehow trapped.

What was wrong?

Back in the real world, Sef’s voice grabbed my attention, “Juvela, where do you want us to go?”

It dragged my perception back. “If Newbank’s under siege, we have to help.”

He growled at Kurt, “Go man, get us to Newbank!”

Kurt yelled at the horses, striking them as he sent us speeding home.

13

Fires at Sunset

The sun had begun to set behind us, tinting the sky a fiery orange and making the thick columns of smoke all the more ominous as they took on the tones of red. The very air seemed to glow, the sun’s last rays catching the haze and ash to give it a golden edge.

Our coach charged along as if out of control, but Kurt somehow managed it. He yelled for people to clear the way as he dared people to dither, the crack of his whip offering encouragement.

While the streets surrounding the port had stood mostly empty, they became crowded closer to the river forcing us back near Market Square. Kurt slowed, having to pick his way more carefully.

We turned near the rear of the Cathedral to miss the worst of the crowds, and from there took another street that came into the bottom corner of the square. Kurt took us along its edge, its centre full of people cheering at a fire where smoke billowed to rise.