Colin Tabor - The Fall of Ossard

“Gods!” whispered Sef.

“Would that be the Cabal?”

“I suppose, and what hope is there if even the Cabal is prepared to join the fight so openly?”

“It’s not too late,” I said, “not yet.”

Sef just shook his head.

We were ushered into the Guildhall amidst a chaotic mess of rushing guildsmen and spiritless refugees. In the crowded compound it was obvious, despite the more relaxed air outside, that the situation across the city wasn’t improving.

They took us straight to Kurgar’s office. Inside he sat flanked by half a dozen guildsmen, as well as Mauricio of the Cabal, and the Kavist priest, Seig. My father was also present, rising from a chair in front of his desk.

“Welcome,” Kurgar said.

I offered my father a smile of reassurance.

Kurgar continued, “Your father has also just arrived, so I’ll share some news, but before that I’m sure we’d all like to know how you fared last night. I’ve heard that you were almost successful?”

“Almost, but they’d been moved moments before we got to them.”

He frowned. “I’m so sorry.”

“We’ll try again.”

“Do you know where they are?”

“Not yet, but we’ll find them.”

He nodded. “I wish you well with it, but now to other matters: Events are moving fast in the city, so I’ll be brief. The messengers have returned. The Inquisitor will have no part in allowing Newbank to administer its own affairs. He has a simple demand; that we repair the bridge and prepare for the return of law and order.”

Many in the room muttered.

Kurgar went on, “On the other hand, the followers of the new saints are willing to work with us.”

Some offered smiles at the news, the cabalist going as far as clapping his hands together and calling out a cheer.

Kurgar nodded and resumed, “In fact, they’re urging us to join them in working to expel the Inquisition.”

I held my tongue. He knew, as did the others, that I wouldn’t be a party to such a thing, and that made me wonder; why did they humour me? Why even allow me to be present for this discussion? My father had a right to be here as a wealthy and influential man who put much time and coin into the Guild, but me? Sef was right; they wondered about me.

I looked up to see the Cabalist gazing at me as if trying to get into my mind – he’d done it once before. The thought of it put me on guard. I slipped into the celestial and raised a shield to protect my soul. When that was done, I called up another layer, and then one more.

Kurgar continued, “Most of you will have already heard that the Inquisition sent gangs into the port this morning. It seems they went in looking for shrines dedicated to the new saints, but they’ve been forced back amidst much bloodletting.

“There’s a very real thirst for revenge out there, and many will die today. Strictly, no one is to cross the river. Those two sides won’t just be rioting by dusk, they’ll be at war.”

A ban on crossing the river would stop my search!

Sef half turned, waiting for me to dispute Kurgar’s words.

As if in answer, the Guildmaster added, “Such a ban falls upon all of us. It’s our duty to our people, to better place us for what comes next…”

I interrupted, but was determined to remain calm, “And what of my family?”

“Things are moving to a head, we can all see it.” His tone came hard, making some in the room flinch. “You had your chance to save them, and despite a valiant attempt have failed. Do you really think another chance will present itself?”

“Yes, I’ll get them.”

His voice softened, “Juvela, I hate to be the one to say it, but we all know that they’re probably already dead.”

I glared at him.

“Juvela, we have to think of our people and not ourselves. I have more news this day, something I hope is nothing, but in truth is the real reason for the ban on crossing the river.”

My father asked, “What other ill tidings could there possibly be?”

Kurgar sighed with fatigue. “We’ve heard that there’s a rising sickness.”

“Maro Fever?” A guildsman queried.

Kurgar shook his head. “No, something different.”

Silence took the room.

He went on, “It’s too early to say for certain how much of a danger it is, but with all the troubles in the city, Ossard could soon be ripe for plague.”

Someone asked, “What is it?”

“It’s a kind of pox, and it’s appeared in a Heletian slum in the east of the city.”

My father asked, “You’re right to say the city is weakened, but this is so sudden?”

“The first case came to the attention of healers twelve or so days ago. It starts with a headache, and goes on to a mind-fever, one marked by delusions and some bleeding from the nose. At that point, the malady usually passes, but some go on to suffer small dark blisters.” He looked around the room. “For those so touched, about one in six, it foretells their death.”

My father whispered, “The city is doomed!”

I asked, “How far has it spread?”

“Our sources talk of it being centred in a Heletian slum, mainly in one area, but with a new outbreak nearby. The first site is the worst affected where half a dozen have died.”

“Where?” I asked.

“Along the valley wall in the east, not near Newbank.”

Sef voiced my own thoughts, “An Inquisition area?”

Kurgar’s eyes widened with surprise. “I suppose so.” He shrugged. “Until we know more, I don’t want anyone crossing the river.”

There was a murmur of agreement.

That afternoon, I let Sef tend to his own business, while I finally got some sleep. I fell into bed exhausted, lost to slow and bitter tears.

I wept for my missing daughter, who I loved so very much, but also for my husband, a man I’d once loathed, but now longed to see. Eventually I drifted off and found some respite. I needed that, that moment to rest and gather my spirits.

When I later awoke it was midafternoon. I could have so easily just rolled over and closed my eyes, but instead I got up, planning to check on my parents.

I walked the short distance, leaving Kurt behind in his quarters above the stables to watch over the house.

I planned on a quick visit, one done to see how my mother was coping with all that was going on. It was there that I was when the news came, news that changed everything.

Everything…

I sat with my parents in their sitting room where we played at polite conversation and pretended that all was well. We talked of many things, but nothing of consequence, while we ignored the obvious topics of my stolen family, and the city, divided, burning itself slowly to the ground.

Then Sef arrived.

He burst in through the front door like a clap of thunder, earning a squeal from a maid. My mother opened her mouth to reprimand him, the help, but then she saw his obvious bewilderment. Instead, she asked, “Sef, whatever is it?”

He looked to me while holding up a hand as he caught his breath. Finally, he said, “The followers of the new saints have proclaimed a fourth!”

And the wail of horns sounded in the distance.

I stood, shaking my head.

He went on, “He’s been named in the burning port, where his faithful are armed and dangerous, and readying to march to war!”

My heart faltered; armed and dangerous? He couldn’t mean…

And a second set of horns blared in answer, sounding from somewhere much closer. The traditional instruments evoked images of the battle-scarred plains, lakelands, and deep forests of Fletland.

Sef forced it out, “It’s Kave! The Heletites across the river are claiming that he’s one of the new saints!”