The Fall of Ossard (27 page)

A moment of silence followed, only to be broken by a thankfully Flet voice, “The gate is closed!”

Sef replied, “We’ve come from the city and are trying to enter Newbank. The bridge across the Cassaro is down, so this is our only way home.”

The voice came again, and this time the silhouette of a head could be seen. “Home you say? Name yourselves!”

I am Sef Vaugen, in the employ of Lady Juvela Liberigo - once Van Leuwin - who awaits entry with myself and our driver, Kurt Baden.”

The clink of chains sounded as more figures appeared atop the wall, this time lantern-lit. “Come through, but be quick!”

Before he finished, the gate was already opening.

We passed through only for it to groan closed behind us.

A team of guildsmen manned it, and waited for us on the other side. One of them, the man who’d questioned us from above, appeared beside our coach. “Lady Juvela, Newbank is under siege. The Guild and others, such as your father, are making plans as we speak.”

“What’s happened?”

He shook his head. “I can’t be sure, things are very confused.”

Sef asked, “But Newbank burns?”

“It looks worse than it is. The Guild moved to block the bridge, but not before the Inquisition got some men across - they tried to close the Guild. When we moved to stop them, they began torching buildings. Some have died, dozens in fact.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Guildmaster Kurgar feared that they’d try again so he ordered the bridge torched. Many are glad and feel safer, but we know that won’t be the end of it.” He looked me in the eyes. “I fear what tomorrow may bring.”

Sef asked, “And what of the fighting across the river?”

“We don’t know much, only that there’ve been riots. Many take comfort in seeing the smoke rise from all across the city and not just here.”

I nodded. “Thank you for admitting us, but we should be on our way.” My thoughts were on Maria and Pedro and the time we’d already spent.

We travelled slowly through crowded streets.

Many of the people about carried burdens of bagged and wrapped belongings - they looked to have fled their homes on the far side of the river. Wherever I looked, I saw people confused and fearful with their lives forever changed, and all in the space of a single day. I realised then how vulnerable we were, not just individually, but as a people. What had stood as the most prosperous Flet population in all of Dormetia now cowered: If the Flets of Ossard were lost it would leave nothing but besieged Fletland.

One day the genocide would be complete!

We headed near to the ruin of the Cassaro Bridge. Its timbers still burned, the fire now only sparking and smouldering compared to its earlier incarnation. People also watched the spreading flames that flared along the opposite riverbank, while over there, mobs of Heletians looted and torched abandoned Flet homes.

Many of the owners of those properties stood in front of us, wrapped in the night, as their tears caught the light of the fires that consumed their worldly wealth. The looters showed as silhouettes against the glare of the flames. From the safety of the far shore, they, Heletians all, jeered and laughed at the Flets of Newbank.

Sef hissed, “They’re bastards. Look at them, look at how they tear our people’s lives apart!”

I agreed. “They’re cowards.” I could feel the hate amongst them.

“I didn’t survive the battlefields of Fletland to watch such a thing. If you’re not going back tonight I’ll have to be excused, for my sword hungers for the blood of cowards!”

“I share your anger, Sef, but I
will
need your help. I can’t leave Maria and Pedro over there. Please come with me and bring as many of your friends as you can. Once I have my family back, I’ll ask nothing more of you for the evening.”

A smile lit his face, and in his eyes I saw death - not his, but of a hundred fools. My perception dipped into the celestial to deliver the realisation that Sef was not only a follower of Kave, but also one of his priests.

The Guild’s compound was made up of various structures from warehouses to stables, dormitories, and of course the Guildhall. It sat along the riverfront by the bridge, its water-facing windows now shuttered closed. Guildsmen hid behind a hastily prepared stockade that also lined the river’s side, the defences already covered in a crop of spent arrows.

Guildsmen waved us off from approaching the main entrance by the water, obviously worried about archers. Instead they sent us around to the rear gate that led to the stables and courtyard. We left our coach there in Kurt’s care and headed straight for the main building. The courtyard was crowded and chaotic, and it looked like the Guildhall would be no better.

Inside people rushed about and talked the place full of noise, their hectic energy balanced by sobering clusters of refugees. One of the groups we passed talked of taking a boat and leaving Ossard. Again it seemed my people might be forced to try their luck at sea.

The idea haunted me. I could picture myself weathered and sick for lack of food and water, while clutching Maria to my sunburnt breast. It wasn’t an option. I didn’t want to run. I wanted to survive the fall of Ossard - and my people with me.

Sef and I found an attendant who led us up some stairs and down a passage, the building like a maze. Soon enough we rounded a corner to find my father waiting in a small lounge where he studied a map of the city. He looked up. “Juvela, Sef, did you find anything?”

I said, “Not at the warehouse, but at Market Square. I think Maria and the others are being held in a cellar, perhaps in the old opera house.”

His face lit up. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure they’re in the area, but not so certain where. It doesn’t matter, we’ll find them.”

His relief faded as his eyes filled with concern. “You can’t go back, it’s too dangerous!” he hesitated, but then continued in a softer tone, “Juvela, there’ve been some burnings.”

“I know, but I have to go.”

He sighed, but gave in for the moment. “How did you get back?”

I told him and then asked of happenings in Newbank.

“Things are bad, but we’ve managed. Kurgar wants to try and negotiate with the Inquisitor, but there’s so much anger outside. I think it’s too late, already too much blood’s been spilt. We know of sixty deaths in Newbank, and there are still thousands of Flets trapped on the river’s other side. We hope they’re alright, but the fires are spreading, and with them the violence.”

A guildsman called to us.

My father turned and nodded. “Come, we can go in.”

We entered Kurgar’s office, but he wasn’t alone. Several guildsmen sat and stood about his desk, and back against the wood-panelled walls. To either side of him also stood two other men. One of them wore robes of blue and a string of amulets. I could feel their power. The grey bearded Heletian looked to me with curiosity, his bald head beaded in sweat.

A mind-voice whispered, “Welcome.”

The other man stood as a warrior cut from the same mould as Sef, he openly wearing the sword-in-circle of Kave. Upon seeing him, Sef bowed, suddenly full of an embarrassed reverence. The man carried a good deal of energy both in his physical presence and in the celestial. He nodded to me in greeting.

The mind voice whispered again, “That is Seig Manheim, Ossard’s most senior priest of Kave. I am Mauricio Ciero, the most senior Cabalist.”

Kurgar stood and gestured for us to sit in the chairs before his desk. We took them.

“Juvela, how are you?”

I supposed he meant after the kidnapping of my family. “Well enough.”

He didn’t believe me, but he couldn’t know of the changes wrought in me. “Your father says that it was your idea to close the bridge and seal the district?”

“Yes.”

“It was a good idea. It seems that the Inquisitor had ordered his men to torch this building and then as much of Newbank as they could. Many would have died. We owe you our thanks.”

“I’m just glad to have helped.”

He nodded. “And you’ve been looking for your husband and daughter?”

“Yes, and I think I’ve found them.”

Surprised, he asked, “Really?”

“They’re being kept just off Market Square.”

“Market Square?”

“I believe they’re in a cellar, perhaps of the old opera house.”

He considered my answer. “That’s possible, the building hasn’t been used in seasons.”

“We couldn’t stay because of the crowds, but I’m going back tonight.”

My father added, “We were talking about it.”

Kurgar asked, “By yourself?”

Sef said, “I’ll help, and take some of my brethren.”

Kurgar nodded and then leaned back. He spread his hands on the desk in front of him. “The city…” He shook his head. “The city is in a terrible state. There’s fighting in many places, and it’s aimed at all parties. It’s more like there are three cities, and we’ve each elected to go to war with each other. The Inquisition controls the north and centre, we have some of the east and Newbank, and the followers of the new saints have claimed the port and the south. It’s lunacy.”

“How much of the east do we have?” I asked.

“Only what’s still to burn. Thousands of our people are stranded over there, but I doubt we’ll hold it by sunrise.”

Sef shifted uncomfortably as did Seig Manheim.

“Can we do anything?” I asked.

He shrugged. “What can we do without stoking the hatred that’s already burning? If we send an armed force across the river, it’s an escalation. So far most of the violence has been by angry mobs, but if we’re seen putting militia into action, we might end up fighting whatever’s left of the city guard and the Inquisition’s own forces.”

I shook my head in disbelief. “But if we don’t our people on the other side of the Cassaro will perish!”

He sighed. “I know, but hear me out. I‘ve been trying to work another solution: I’ve sent a message to whoever leads the new saints, asking for their help in establishing a truce.”

I was appalled. “No!”

Kurgar took great care with his next words, them coming out oiled and smooth, “I understand your anger, but let me explain.”

I sat in silence - he could have his chance.

“I’ve considered events, and wonder if this is an opportunity.”

My father growled, “An opportunity!”

Kurgar waved him down. “Yes, an opportunity! Listen, the Inquisition has been in control for a day, and already they’ve tried to outlaw the institutions that have run Ossard for years. They can’t do it. We still exist despite their proclamation. They’re playing games, delusional and dangerous games. I’m more interested in what’s real…”

My father interrupted, “Like the hundreds or thousands of our kinfolk stranded across the river?”

Kurgar clenched a fist and pounded his desk. “Hundreds or thousands, what rubbish! The true figure is closer to ten thousand, and maybe half of them are already dead!”

Gasps sounded from around the room.

He went on, “We can’t deny the possibility. We’ve no accurate number for how many of our kin live over there, the Guild stopped counting years ago, but we
can
see the flames. If we’re already taking losses in Newbank from city-side archers, as we are, I don’t hold out much hope for any of our people unprotected and alone over there.”

Appalled, I whispered, “You’re giving them up!”

He shook his head and growled, “Let me finish! The Inquisitor and Benefice have used the kidnappings as an opportunity to take control, but we can’t let them succeed. We know what’ll happen if they do; at best they’ll dump us destitute across the sea in ravaged Fletland, and at worst they’ll try and finish the job the Lae Velsanans started two centuries ago!”

Silence greeted his words, for we all feared that they held truth.

He went on, “And you’re right to worry about this other faction. It’s chaotic out there, and their new saints dubious, but might they be open minded enough to accept us for who we are? If they’re prepared to defy the Inquisition and turn their backs on the Church’s dogma, might they also understand how those same limits restrain our own beliefs? All they want is freedom to worship, so why would it be such a leap for them to understand our own wish to follow our own faiths?