Colin Tabor - The Fall of Ossard

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.

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.

My grandmother’s spectral voice howled, “No!” and around her climbed a maddening chorus. She commanded, “Go there, seek him, kill him!”

Her intensity shocked me.

She growled, her words striking like blows, “He’s doing it again!” and demanded, “Stop him!”

I began reaching for the sliding panel to instruct Kurt, but Sef grabbed at my hands. His grip was firm and tight, he’d never held me like that before. Leaning forward to meet me face to face, he hissed, “No, he’ll kill you!”

Had he heard her?

I whispered, my voice weak, “She wants to…”

“I know she does, but you must fight!”

“She’s so strong. She wants me to, all of them do.”

“Yes, but it’ll cost you your life!”

I gasped, “Not if she can strike him…”

He called out, “Kurt, get us away from here!” Then he turned his attention back to me. “She will kill him, but in the process she’ll possess you to do it. Once back in flesh, she won’t relinquish it!”