Colin Tabor - The Fall of Ossard

He thought about it, his eyes wandering over the rose garden. “It might work.” He looked up to meet my gaze. “Where did you get such wisdom?”

I frowned. “Wise women don’t lose their families.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Perhaps he was right. “Father, has anything been said about where Pedro and Maria might have been taken?”

“Nothing for certain, only suggestions of the port district. Some of the guildsmen also talked of the Inquisitor’s linking of the cults and Santana. They think he’s right, but not all agree.”

“There’s something else you should know.”

“What?”

“There’s another new saint.”

“Another?”

“I heard people speak of a Saint Malsano.”

My father shook his head. “How can this be?” He looked about as if even in the privacy of his own courtyard he no longer felt safe. “We’ve heard that the followers of Saint Santana want to build a chapel on the ashes of the razed warehouse. They’re claiming that it’ll purify the ground. It leaves me to wonder; could they actually be trying to build something there to use the ritual’s power?”

His words stuck in my mind. Could the cults use whole bloodlines to sanctify such a building, some kind of dark temple? And would that blood be Maria’s and Pedro’s, or did they need the bloodlines for something else?

I began to feel anxious. I had to get started on my search and go to see the ruined warehouse. “I’m sorry, Father, but I must go. Have the Guild stay open, our people will need it.”

He nodded, but was reluctant to see me leave. “Where?”

“To look for Maria and Pedro.”

“It’s too dangerous. There are people out there who blame you for all this.”

“Sorry, but I must.”

He stood and took a step towards me. “I still can’t believe you went to Market Square by yourself.” And his gaze moved to Sef, his eyes narrowing in disapproval. “You were lucky not to be arrested!”

“Father, I appreciate your concern, but don’t blame Sef. I insisted on going alone. No one touched me. In fact they went out of their way to avoid me. They’re scared of me.”

He reached out to put his hands on my shoulders, looking me lovingly in the eyes. “Juvela, frightened people can do terrible things. Remember our history; during Def Turtung the Lae Velsanans nearly destroyed our people, and in turn they brought down their own dominion. They didn’t do it because of hate, but because of fear. Don’t tempt the masses of Ossard, they’re more scared of you right now than the Lae Velsanans ever were of us.”

He had a point.

While I might feel born anew and could sense my soul stirring with rising power, I was still untested. “You’re right, I promise to take greater care, but I do need to search for my family. I can’t just sit at home and wait for news of their…” my voice broke, “…slaughter.”

He nodded as his strong hands rubbed my shoulders.

I loved him; the care in his eyes and his deep passion for my mother.

He said, “Take Sef with you, we all know he can help.”

“I will, and I’ll be careful.”

“Juvela, to lose you would be to lose half my world. Please take care, for I think the city has already lost its way.”

I shook my head, refusing to accept such a thing.

“It’s true, just look at it! As you said, Ossard is split three ways, and two will align against the other, and those alliances will shift. We will all suffer. There’ll be mobs and riots, and lynchings and lootings. The only thing missing will be justice.” He shook his head as he pictured the tragedy to come. “I can live with the city falling into chaos if I have to, but I can’t live if it takes you and your mother.”

I hugged him, my voice muffled by his shirt, “I’ll be careful.”

He opened the embrace, taking a step back to look at me. Pride filled his eyes as he smiled, and with that brightening his worries faded.

I nodded and turned to leave.

Sef thanked my father and moved to follow.

“Juvela, please wait!” It was my mother. She was standing at the door to the house from where she tried to bravely smile – but faltered.

My poor mother…

My heart ached to see her try and support me, but at the same time be so crippled by her fears. I offered, “It’s alright, I’m learning so much and so quickly, and the more I know the safer I’ll be.”

Her eyes sparkled with gathering tears. “Your grandmother knew a lot more, but she wasn’t safe. They still came for her…”

I hurried to her, throwing my arms about her. “Mother, please…”

“No, you have to hear it!” she insisted, choking back her tears. “They came for her in the middle of the night, beating her senseless in her own bed. They drugged her to stop her from casting, and then dragged her away.” She looked at me with wide eyes. “Despite all her power they still got her. Do you hear me? She didn’t even get a chance to scratch them!” She was digging her fingers into me.

“They tortured her for days until they finally judged her. Once damned by the Inquisitor they tied her unconscious and naked to a stake in Market Square, and she wasn’t alone.” My mother relaxed her grip. “Oh Juvela, forty eight others joined her, them all roused with smelling salts just in time for their burning.”

I rocked her in my arms. “It’s alright.”

She pulled back from me as she wiped at her tears. “They made me watch! They held me at the front of the crowd and made me watch as they burnt her alive, and I still have nightmares about it!”

I couldn’t help but shiver.

She went on, “I’ve learnt to live with them, but I couldn’t live with having to watch you suffer the same fate. You have to be careful. Don’t put all your faith in your power, put some in Schoperde as well!”

I nodded.

She said, “He sought her out, he can smell witches.”

“Anton?”

She gave a nod, and then paused to take a deep breath as my father stepped up beside her. With a calmer voice, she said, “It was the worst day of my life, but also the best; it was where I met your father. Without him and his family I’d have been destitute,” and worry and love rode in her words together.

Standing there, I realised this was a day she’d long feared would come, and now that it was here she was drawing upon all her reserves to push through.

She smiled. “Juvela, you’re revealed now, yet I imagine you’ve much to learn. Please, just be careful.”

She was right. The book had done little for me in the ways of using my power, yet I still felt confident I’d master it.

My mother’s smile broadened, but it came tinged with sadness.

Thinking that she was still burdened with her worry, I said, “I’ll be careful, I mean it. I won’t go anywhere without Sef.”

She nodded and said, “You look so much like your grandmother.” I smiled, but she went on, “It’s almost like she’s back from the grave.”

And laughter rang out from the celestial.

The afternoon warmed, and with it came a slow but determined breeze. It arrived carrying Ossard’s usual stink, but today its blustering breath also delivered a new and bitter aroma; of burning.

Half a dozen columns of smoke rose from the heart of the city, climbing to feed a growing haze. They seemed anchored around Market Square. Not long after some of the Flets living in the wider city began crossing the river to seek the safety of Newbank.

Behind them came a chorus of distant cries and yells. The arrivals spoke of riots at the heart of the city, all saying the same thing; the Heletians were fighting amongst themselves.

Some of the followers of the new saints had forced their way into the Cathedral taking armfuls of oleander and relics with which to build a shrine. They were challenged by Vassini’s priests and told to leave. They’d refused and argued, and then been forcibly expelled. Dragged from the Cathedral and hurled down its front steps, scuffles broke out as a mob gathered. Some died in the fighting that followed, failing to establish a shrine, but giving their fellow believers something as powerful; martyrs.