Colin Tabor - The Fall of Ossard

Maria looked to me with her beautiful blue eyes while a voice fierce with love hissed in my mind, “Be careful!”

Witchery!

I was stunned. It was her, who else could it be? I nearly stopped, but the mother’s desperate pleas grabbed back my attention.

Sef yelled, “Where are you going?”

I ignored him.

The cultist looked down at the girl, waiting for her trembling hand.

Her mother held her tight, and though I didn’t think she could see him like I could, she somehow sensed his presence.

The voices cried out for me to hurry.

My vision then regained the clarity it had only once held before. With that finer view, the black celestial sparks became storms of energy cascading off the cultist and radiating out from the magic he cast to hide himself.

I was nearly there, each step closing the gap.

But how was I going to stop him?

The sounds of the crowd, the whirlwind of movement, and the dazzling flare of magic combined to be dizzying. Amidst it all I could still hear Sef yelling. “Damn it Juvela, wait!”

The girl reached out to the cultist.

I wouldn’t get there in time.

I called, “Get away from him!”

She seemed oblivious to me, and then took his hand, sliding her fingers across his own and deep into his palm.

He grabbed them tightly.

In an instant I saw her lose the colours of life.

Her mother howled.

Then, still charging, I finally arrived.

I slashed at the cultist with Sef’s blade while diving between them to force them apart. The knife clumsily cut into his shoulder.

He cursed and fell back.

I pushed the girl aside and broke their hands’ grip. At the same time, a shower of blue sparks flared to dance about us.

The crowd screamed and fell back.

They’d seen something!

I fell to the cobbles and rolled to a stop.

The girl lay limp in her mother’s arms, but with life’s colours returning.

In front of us stood the cultist, now back on his feet. For the first time the crowd could see him, I think they could even see the sparks spilling off from him as his broken spell bled away.

Sef ran towards me with Maria in his arms. He dodged around the cultist to stand between us, passing me Maria before turning back to face him. He looked to the cultist with threatening eyes, and in a slow but determined movement drew his sword. He mumbled a prayer, his words in Flet and their substance hidden under his breath, but every Flet in the square knew he’d just asked for a blessing from our battle god; Kave.

The cultist ignored him, instead turning to me. “And how will you explain this to the Church?”

A bitter stink grew, and in a swirling flash he was gone.

Beyond where he’d stood loomed the twin towers of the Cathedral. Priests crowded at the top of its steps, amidst them Benefice Vassini. They’d seen everything.

The woman beside me rose to her feet clutching her rousing daughter. Over and over she whispered, “Thank you.” But she was so shaken that all she could do was stumble away.

I got up off the cobbles with Maria. “Sef, we should go.”

People milled about, confused and frightened, many in a panic that only grew. They pushed past each other to knock others over, as well as stalls, and the fences of the livestock pens.

I risked a glance over the commotion, looking back to the Cathedral. Predictably, a group of priests advanced through the crowd. Benefice Vassini, robed and regal, watched over them from atop the steps, his face glowering.

Sef acted quickly, moving ahead to clear a path. With Maria in my arms, I darted after him with every pace putting more confusion between myself and the churchmen.

Finally, we reached the coach. Sef opened the cab’s door, helped us up, and then threw himself in. He yelled to Kurt, “Make haste!”

The coach lurched into movement.

Sef turned to me. “You saw him before the rest of us!”

Gasping after my dash through the crowd, I could only nod.

And behind us the Heletite cried out, “Witness the power of Saint Santana! She fights through her chosen Lady, bestowing blessings and wonders to protect those who accept her into their hearts!”

He was besieged by frightened people.

We returned home through streets full of anxious people rushing to seek safety, amidst units of militia and city watch trying to cut through the crush. While we travelled as fast as we could, the streets remained choked, so by the time we got back to Newbank, it was to find that news of events had preceded us, carried by people who’d travelled more speedily on horseback or by foot.

Pedro ran from our small courtyard. “Juvela, is Maria alright?”

His eyes gave him the answer as she reached for him from the opened cab door.

He took her into his arms and kissed her. Finally he turned to me, reaching forward with one hand to run it softly down my arm before helping me from the coach’s step. It was a surprising affection. “What happened?”

His questions irritated me, but only because I feared that they were the first of many. I could also see that he wasn’t the only one struck with worry: My parents also stood in the courtyard, and with them a deputation of Flet guildsmen.

My mother asked, “Are you well, Juvela?” Her true question was of headaches and magic.

“We’re alright, Sef protected us.”

A guildsman snapped, “With magic. You’ve been careless, and now there’ll be no end of trouble!”

Pedro looked up at the mention of magic as if someone had cursed.

I said, “There was no magic. We simply helped a woman in need.”

My father shrugged. “No matter, they will be here soon. What will you tell them?”

Pedro nursed Maria, but looked to my father in bewilderment. “They?”

“The Churchmen. They’ll want to know what happened, and they probably won’t be interested in the truth. They’ll label her a witch and a cultist, and probably try to blame the kidnappings on her.”

He was right, I hadn’t thought about it.

What would I tell them?

Pedro fumed at the suggestion, but deep down knew it held some truth. He’d returned from the monastery a shattered man. While he’d since rediscovered some of his old backbone, it now came wrapped in the meat of an ambiguous devotion. If hearing our talk of the Church made him uncomfortable, I feared what he made of our mention of magic.

I offered, “I just knocked the cultist down when I ran past.”

My mother shook her head, she was pale and close to tears. “The Inquisition won’t be happy with that. We heard you attacked the kidnapper with a knife, and that you fought him off with blinding flashes of magic!”

I said, “The Inquisition isn’t here!”

My father shook his head. “No doubt they’ve agents, but even without them the Church isn’t likely to let such a public display of the arcane go unpunished.”

I looked to Maria. “There was no magic, not by me! They can’t take me away, surely I’m protected by my connection to the Liberigos?”

My father nodded. “Let’s hope so, but for now you’ll go into hiding. The Guild’s sending a carriage and, when you’re safe, we’ll meet with Lord Liberigo and ask him to guarantee your protection.”

The unmarked carriage arrived amidst a steady flow of people coming to see the lady who’d fought off the kidnapper.

Me…

By the time Pedro, Maria, Sef and I were packed into it, we were surrounded by a crowd. Some called out, others begged for my touch. It was unnerving.

Things were getting out of control.

My mother pushed past their beseeching hands, knocking them out of the way as she lifted herself up to the window. “Be careful…”