The Fall of Ossard (28 page)

“Think of it; the temples of our gods built in the streets, no more hidden chapels, whispered hymns, and clandestine gatherings.

“This terrible moment in Ossard’s history could become everything we’ve ever wanted. We might even win the right for the Cabal to walk openly!

“Let’s see what the followers of the new saints want; at worst it might be the same as the Inquisition, but it could be so much better. If we can work together in an alliance of mutual respect and benefit, perhaps we can create a new Ossard, one that finally accepts our people.”

The cabalist and priest beside him both stood lost in the promise of the idea. No doubt the thought of being able to walk openly in the streets, or of building real and visible temples sounded grand, but what of the darker side?

I asked, “Aren’t you forgetting the kidnappings? You saw the bloody mess left behind from their ritual magic, how can you even contemplate this?”

He shook his head. “Juvela, I understand the kidnappings are a terrible thing, but we don’t even know for certain that they’re behind them. I’ll grant you it’s possible, but we’re yet to see solid proof. However, we do know what the alternative under the whip of the Inquisition is. They’ll be killing thousands; who knows how many are already dead!”

Mauricio the Cabalist said, “To openly walk the streets!”

Seig, the Kavist whispered, “To build a temple!”

But all I could think of was my daughter and husband waiting to be slaughtered.

My family!

How dare they even consider an alliance! My voice threatened to break as I stood, disturbing the growing acquiescence to the Guildmaster’s idea. “I’ve listened, but can’t agree. Right now I need to get my daughter and husband, that’s what’s important
and
right. You’ll have to excuse me.” I turned and left.

I didn’t realise how sick the whole idea made me feel until I reached the corridor. Yes, some kind of alliance might seem best for our people today, but what of tomorrow? How could you trust an ally that had risen to power murdering children?

I walked down the passage listening to the dutiful footfalls of Sef behind me. His presence was reassuring.

For now I pushed the matter from my mind. I had other things to think about. We’d prepare and go and get my family and anyone else being held. Right now that was what was important.

When we reached the courtyard, Sef said, “I’ll go and gather my brethren.”

I turned and saw my father standing beside him. He’d also left Kurgar’s office.

I asked, “How much time do you need?”

Sef smiled. “Not as long as you’d think. If you’re ready to go just wait in the coach, I’ll not be long.”

My father begged, “Please, this is too dangerous, it’s madness!”

“Not as mad as what they’re contemplating back there.”

Sef kept quiet.

“Juvela, you might be right, and Sef and I both agree with you, but going back into the city after dark and amidst this rioting is insane!”

“I know it’ll be dangerous, but I have to try.”

His voice broke, “You said you’d be more careful!”

“If it was me locked up in a cellar at the age of four with Mother, you’d try and get us too!”

He sighed. “Please, Juvela, just be careful.”

Sef offered, “She’ll be well protected.”

Father gave a reluctant nod and then embraced me before heading back into the Guildhall.

Sef said, “I won’t be long.”

I nodded, and then watched him disappear through the compound’s gates into the alleys beyond. His absence would give me a moment to think on Kurgar’s words, so I went back to the coach, greeted Kurt, and then climbed into the cab to sit alone.

Was I being selfish?

I knew the answer to that, yet my doubts lingered.

Would I have come to the same conclusion if
my
family
hadn’t
been taken?

Of course I would.

The followers of the new saints looked to have links to the Horned God, but did I really know enough about such things to judge? My own faith in Schoperde was innocent and true, yet Heletians also classed her as a power of the dark. Was I just showing the same ignorance?

Sweet Schoperde,

goddess of life and mother of us all,

losing a desperate war against Death,

please bless me with guidance…

My prayers were just words, empty wishes for wellness for myself and others, they always had been. What a whimsy. While faith in Schoperde remained common amongst the Flets, there was no longer any organised priesthood, not in Ossard at least - and that meant there were no divine blessings. Schoperde had been cut off from her believers.

If a god was weakened and unable to provide for its faithful, it only discouraged new believers and even the old.

Dear Schoperde,

goddess of life and mother of us all,

I wish for nothing but wellness for you…

I sighed, my silent prayer drifting through my mind along with a rising feeling of hope and comfort.

I’d done well…

I laughed at the notion; as if a god needed my blessing!

As if indeed!

As my mirth faded, I became conscious of the sounds of the city. The other side of the river rang out with noise; the cries of fighting and the snap, crack, and roar of hungry flames. Crossing over to rescue Maria and Pedro amidst all this chaos would be risky, even foolhardy, but I did have to try. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.

I’d follow Sef’s instructions, after all this was about battle - something of his world. We’d go and be careful, and I’d seek to let my stirring power loose if need be. In the end, I’d brave any risk to free my family.

And, I wondered; what might happen if we also found Lord Liberigo? If he lived, could he try and reclaim control of Ossard? The Inquisitor and Benefice would have to listen to him, also Kurgar, and even the followers of the new saints.

There was still hope for the city.

I waited there in the dark of the coach, running so many things through my mind. The more my thoughts wandered, the more my frustrations deepened. My ability for witchery seemed stunted, yet the Inquisitor had said that the city’s factions were scared of me.

Why?

I had no reason to believe anything Anton said, but I did about this. Too many times I’d felt my own power stir, generally when my emotions shifted. It was as though it lay trapped within me. If I was to make a difference to the fate of my family it had to be free to flow.

I shook my head in irritation. Why did everyone else seem to know so much more about what I was, or what I was going through? Kurgar had said that I’d be trained, yet nothing had happened. They were just empty words that saw me sitting around waiting on other people’s favours.

The coach door opened, it was Sef. “I’ve found them. They’re just gathering what they need.”

“How will we cross the river?”

“Don’t worry, it’s all arranged.”

I tried to smile, but it faltered amidst my doubts. I wondered; in going would I only succeed in getting myself killed?

He sensed my unease. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, not sure where to start, but then settled for the obvious. “Why can’t I do anything, I mean magically? I can see into the celestial and feel my power, but I don’t seem able to release it…”

He held up a hand to quieten me, but my frustration overwhelmed both my manners and patience. “Shouldn’t I be able to start fires or turn people into toads?”

“Juvela, these things take time. I’ll admit that you’re not following any normal path, but what’s happening in Ossard isn’t normal. Perhaps you need to find your own way and not listen to the advice of others…”

I snapped, “Don’t say that! I’ve got nowhere by myself in twenty years, what makes you think I’ll get anywhere now?”

“Did your grandmother’s book help?”

“Not in the sense of enabling me to do anything. I think it’s made me more acquainted with magic, more comfortable and sensitive to it, but it’s a book of true history, not a book of spells.”

He sat down and closed the door. “And what of the power you feel?”

I just shook my head in irritation.

“What are your feelings about it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you feel an affinity for anything, for anything of the Cabal?”

“Like?”

“Like elementalism; do you feel drawn to the elements?”

“No, I don’t think so, but I’m not sure I understand.”

He took my hands in his and patted them. “Where do you feel it, your power?”

“In the celestial, in my soul.”

He leaned forward. “And what of your grandmother, is she helping?”

“I don’t really know.”

“Sometimes you hear her voice?”

“Yes, and the others with her, and sometimes even the crack and snap of angry flames.”

He went on, “She can talk to you, so does she help or just look for opportunities to possess you like back at Market Square?”

“Sometimes she gives me advice. I hear her words in my mind or have sensations that tell me to be careful. I think she could do more. I wish she would.”

“Maybe it’s hard for her to talk with you?”

“Perhaps. Look, I’m glad of her book. I’ve learnt something from it, even if it wasn’t what I thought it was going to be. It’s helped me understand the truths of the world, but not how to use my magic…” I shook my head as my words trailed off into confusion.

“Juvela, do something for me tonight, and one thing besides trying to save your family?”

“What?”

“Open up to your magic - and not just with your heart, but also with your mind and spirit. What we’re going to do isn’t going to be easy. We’ll need any kind of help you can give, and I want you to offer it without any preconceived ideas.”

I nodded, but remained unsure. “What are you saying; that I’m stopping myself from using my own witchery?”

“Maybe, because perhaps you’re not a witch.”

I just looked at him, and then started to shake my head. “Of course I am, I can feel the power and see into the celestial.”

“So can members of the Sisterhood, spirits, the gods,
and their priests
.”

I sat stunned by his words. I couldn’t be any of the first things he’d listed, but a priest?

Sef watched the confusion run across my face. With tender care he stroked my hands and said, “All I’m asking is for you not to shut your mind to the possibilities. Such open mindedness could make all the difference - all the difference in saving your family.”

I nodded.

“We need to go and get ready, but we’ll talk more about this tomorrow.”

“And what of tonight?”

“Just relax and do what comes naturally.”

15

To the City

It was after midnight before our party was ready.

Fires burnt along much of the opposite riverbank, but they seemed to be dying down, and the sounds of riot too. Cloaked in darkness, our group of twenty crossed the Cassaro near the city wall by way of three small boats. It was one of the few stretches of water not illuminated by flames, instead it lay lost under thick drifts of smoke.

On arrival, we climbed the slime covered river wall to be greeted by an empty but ash-filled street. Sef took the lead and darted across the cobbles to disappear down a shadowed lane. Without a word we followed.

In our trek, we stuck to winding alleys and cover, walking, running, and even crawling as we sought Ossard’s heart. The Kavists moved with surprising speed, particularly for a group weighed down by arms and armour. I just worked at keeping up.

I wasn’t used to such rushing, let alone in the dark lanes of the city. Before long a rising tide of adrenalin began to energise me. I tried to keep quiet as I followed, reminding myself with each step or turn that I drew closer to my goal.

My family!

The Kavists treated me as one of their own. They advanced with me, acknowledged me, and I realised, expected me to fight. That was sobering. I was no longer in a world of maids, drivers, and bodyguards - this was a harsher and more
real
life. Only once before had I fought someone; the cultist in Market Square. Tonight I might have to draw blood again.

Sef had given me a knife and dagger, both of which I’d hidden away in my dark cloak. I knew I’d use them if I had to, by all the gods I’d do anything to get my family back, yet I hoped I wouldn’t have to.

On our way through smoke-filled alleys, and past occasional burnt out ruins, we also saw other groups. Those dark silhouettes fell away from our larger band, always seeking the safety of other lanes and shadows.

Sef hissed at us to keep quiet, particularly when others were about. It wasn’t the noise of our armour, boots, or swords that worried him, but our voices. Any Heletian would recognise our accent, and such a thing could be the death of us.