Colin Tabor - The Fall of Ossard

Sef raised an eyebrow. “Then who?”

“My father thought that they were Lae Velsanan ruins, perhaps a fort from one of their fallen dominions. You see, the steps, windows, and doorways were all usable, but oversized for people like you and me.”

The story was intriguing. I was also certain that he was talking about the same site Felmaradis had suggested.

Marco continued, “Only a few shepherds live on those wind-blasted hills with little protection from the squalls that blow in from the sea. Anyway, we can talk more of it later.”

And we would; it sounded interesting.

Marco went on, “I had a good childhood. I helped my father on his rounds and was happy. Eventually I left his business to him and my older brother, knowing that my sibling planned to fill it with his own children.

“I went on to work as a tailor, and sometimes even as a merchant myself. I made some coin, never much, but enough, and then I met someone and fell in love.” And a tear slipped from his eye.

“That was Atalia, a lovely woman, and one who tried so hard to keep me happy.” He shook his head. “Well, we married and built our lives together, and then waited for the coming of children to complete our family.

“That wait went on, stretching through the seasons and into the years. It left us with nothing to show for it despite all our love and efforts. Our local priest offered to pray with us and happily took our coin in return for blessings, but in the end, after spending a small fortune, we still had nothing but our unfulfilled dreams.

“We resigned ourselves to our fate, but then she…” and his voice broke, only to return hoarse a moment later, “…but then she told me that she was expecting.” His hands trembled in his lap.

“She seemed so well as she carried through that first season. She’d had some sickness, but she took herbs for it and used balms on her spreading skin…” he stopped again as his words trailed off. After a deep breath he said, “I’d never known such happiness, yet my feelings were eclipsed the day she took my hand and put it to her belly so I could feel our babe kick.” He shook his head in wonder.

“Our neighbours, a young couple, also came to be expecting. So, as is the way of things, her husband and I talked of raising sons while the women talked of daughters. Amidst the chat of babies and such my wife shared some of her balms and a brew for morning sickness, something she’d bought in the port from an Evoran herbalist.

“Alas, for their household, it wasn’t to be. After only a season the babe slipped from our neighbour’s womb. It made things awkward between us.

“For Atalia and I, all seemed well until five days ago. My wife had begun to have dreams, strange dreams, dreams that showed her a sanctuary that was unknown to her. She told me of it even though we both thought it just some sort of fancy. She described it as a gorge with its sides greened by ledges that stepped down into the soil’s depths. More greenery could be found about a beautiful pool at the bottom, something bubbling with mist and heat.” He looked at us as he shook his head. “I’m not doing it justice, she made it sound wonderful.”

I stared at him, all the while trying to soften my gaze.

How’d his wife shared my dream, for I needed to hear no more to know that she’d seen the same fern-forested place?

Sef asked, “And then the city began to give into chaos?”

He nodded. “Our home and our lives seemed peaceful enough despite the changes swirling about. Whispers of the new saints came, of course, then the extra kidnappings, and then the arrival of the Inquisition. Through it all our home remained a place of calm.” He looked to me and said, “We were in the square when your husband and daughter were taken. We saw it, all of it, and cried out and mourned with the crowd.”

I nodded, but kept quiet, not wanting my own misfortune to distract from his recount.

“That night we went home as the criers declared the Inquisitor our saviour, yet sleep came hard, but not just because of the chaos: It was Atalia, she was restless and close to birthing. Still, eventually, we both drifted off.

“I awoke not long before dawn to find the city quiet and Atalia dozing, but later she began to stir. She seemed upset, telling me of another dream she’d just had, insisting we needed to leave Ossard and that the only safe road would be through Newbank. She said that it had something to do with that poor lady, the Flet on the balcony who’d lost her family.

“I began to wonder if she was unwell as she just wasn’t making any sense. And that’s when it happened…” Tears began to run down his cheeks.

We waited.

“The front door smashed open, it startling us against the silence of the night. I jumped out of bed to find the front room filling with men, too many to stop. Three of them grabbed me and pinned me against the wall. I called out a warning to Atalia, but I was too late; they’d already found her.

“The men who had me stared with blank faces, but I could see hate in their eyes. I asked what they wanted, but they wouldn’t answer me.

“A man yelled at my beloved, so I began to struggle, causing them to beat me until I blacked out. I roused on the floor to the sounds of the same man, his voice hard as he spat his venomous charge; witch!”

Marco took a deep breath as he wiped at his tears. “I could hear Atalia cry out for me, and I answered that I was there, yet the man’s charge kept ringing in my ears.”

Witch!

“With the Inquisition in the city, we both knew what that would mean.

“I began to beg, calling out that she was innocent and heavy with child. Finally, one of the men watching over me hissed of witnesses. I turned to see our childless neighbours standing outside in the street, lit like shades in the dim grey before dawn.

“Atalia screamed afresh, making me struggle anew. I watched a man stride out of our room, past me, and into the street. He opened a leather pouch and showed it to our neighbours; on seeing it they nodded. He turned back to the house and called; we have it! It was Atalia’s balms and herbs.

“Atalia was led out and past me, towards the door. Grazes marked her body and tears her face, but they were nothing compared to the fear in her eyes. They had a gag about her mouth, and behind it a clove of garlic.”

Garlic; many believed it could break a witch’s spells.

“I cried out that she was innocent and had done nothing wrong, yet all they did was beat me again until I blacked out.”

He sat there and looked to each of us. “That was the last time I saw her alive.”

Sef said, “Maybe she’s alright. She could be locked up somewhere, perhaps in the Turo?”

Marco shook his head. “No, I found her later that morning. She was tied to a stake in Market Square, burning along with half a dozen others. She was already dead.”

The three of us sat in appalled silence.

His seemed accepting, but he’d barely had time to come to terms with Atalia’s death. He added, “It’s a sad story, and only finished by me telling you that I returned home to find it looted and burning. My neighbours chased me away, cursing me and the bad luck I’d brought them.”

“Bad luck?” I asked.

He nodded. “At first I thought they spoke of their own lost babe, but there was more to their taunts.”

“What?”

“Something about a sickness.”

I looked to Sef. “Kurgar spoke of a rising sickness?”

Sef nodded.

Marco added, “They claimed it was from the new saints, and that only the Loyalists were falling ill with it.”

Poor Marco, I felt for him. I’d suffered and still went on suffering, but Marco’s wife and dreams of family were well and truly dead.