Colin Tabor - The Fall of Ossard

With every step, using my footfalls as a rhythm, I burnt a little of my power; that which I’d gained in consuming Lady Death. Pulses of it rolled out through the celestial to break upon the crowd’s souls like the surf on a beach. For my followers it came as a blessing, for those unsure of their allegiance, a whisper of truth. To the remainder, who’d already given themselves to Death’s gods, it washed over them as if they lay under the waterline, buried beneath slime and weed.

I walked along to feel a returning flow. Most stood strong in faith, others like Baruna thrummed with extra illumination. This was the beginning of something; not just hope, but a new age.

I said, “The Loyalists are claiming the Inquisitor dead and blaming the Flets for it. They’ll try for vengeance by coming into Newbank, but it’ll leave their backs unprotected.”

“And you think the Reformers will take advantage?” Baruna asked.

I nodded. “They already are, and then they’ll move onto their ritual. We must be quick.”

She said, “We have a lot to take.”

“I still need to get to my family, and what of Sef; I saw him attacked?”

“Sef lives, but is wounded. He’s waiting at the crowd’s rear.” She smiled. “Almost everything is arranged, for now the only thing we need to do is fetch Marco and your family.”

“Thank you.”

My followers formed a path, and at its end waited Sef with one of his arms bandaged.

I smiled. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine; they got some steel into me, but it was the club to the head that dropped me.” His own smile softened, “I’m glad you’re back.”

I nodded.

He looked to the other shore as the warmth drained from his face. “And now comes the fall?”

I followed his gaze. “Yes.”

Our coach waited with Kurt atop it; I got in, Sef beside me, and finally Baruna. She said, “Marco hasn’t sent any word, and people are talking openly of Kurgar’s involvement. If the Guildmaster has heard, he may’ve tried to move them.”

He would’ve heard. The master of the Flet Guild could hear any of Ossard’s gossip, and this was certainly a matter close to his heart. I said, “We’ll go straight there.”

Sef gave the panel a knock, seeing Kurt get us started.

Baruna said, “Others will follow to help, while yet more will see to getting our people out of the city. I’ve told them to get beyond the gates by dawn and to take any who are willing with them. I’ve also sent some to collect your parents and their maids.”

“Thank you, Baruna.”

Sef looked to me. “Your power has grown; what happened over there?”

“I’m awakening. They’ve all spoken of me as though I’m something to fear – and for the first time I believe them.” And, I sensed, the effects of the Moonroot had finally waned away.

Baruna smiled.

“Anton told me some things of note.”

Sef asked, “And you trust him?”

“Whether he meant to help or not, he told me some truths thinking I’d soon be dead. I’ll tell you the details of it later, but the core of what he said was why they want me destroyed and the consequences if they failed. He also told me of the only other to survive their hunt.”

Sef asked, “Another avatar?”

“No longer an avatar, but awakened.”

“Who?”

“Dorloth of the Gargoyles.”

Both of them stared.

“I don’t know how, but maybe she can help.”

They looked to me, too stunned to answer.

“Anton also told me that I’m not a power like those above, I’m something new. Schoperde birthed me, and others like me, to replace the old generation who’ve been overcome by their greed for souls. I’m part of a second chance.”

Baruna asked, “What second chance?”

“Life’s second chance – and its last.”

Sef’s eyebrows arched.

I explained, “Schoperde birthed the old gods to look after the races of man, but they’ve become addicted to feeding on the souls of those they’re supposed to protect. Together they’ve grown so strong that they’ve blocked her attempts to raise new gods, gods that won’t succumb to that same addiction. It’s a battle that’s gone on for thousands of years and left her drained.”

The coach slowed as we moved deeper into the slums. The afternoon and much of the night had passed since the Inquisitor’s men had mounted their raids. Some of their fires burnt on, but the smoke wasn’t as thick. The bulk of what now drifted about was being blown from the growing inferno raging across the river in the Loyalist district.

The streets of the slums held a scattering of traffic and also some crowds. True, it was late, but there were relatives to check on and also news wanted of the chaos unfolding across the river. An undercurrent of fear, bitter and sharp, also haunted the night; it came from the rumours concerning Kurgar.

The road only grew narrower the deeper into the slums we went. Soon enough we had to leave the comfort of the coach and take to the dirt lanes on foot. All about us people hurried, many openly wearing the symbols of their true faiths; those first subverted by the Church, and then by our own guild.

Taking in the atmosphere, I imagined that the Flets living in Old Wair-Rae had once also gathered in such a nervous air on the eve of Def Turtung. Then, the Lae Velsanans had turned against their former slaves after a generation of granted freedom, scared by my people’s growing wealth and success.

For all of us, either living two centuries ago in the Fourth Dominion or today in Ossard, we stood at the cusp of our judgment. It was time to stand for our truths.

We hurried on through the slum’s alleyways heading through the maze. After passing a few more turns we’d be at the tower, and I could feel my power rising with my expectations.

We were so close!

My concerns also rose. I couldn’t communicate with Marco; his soul felt wrong.

I led, then came Sef and Baruna, and behind us walked a dozen of my followers. Unlike the streets we’d just passed through, the deeper we went into the heart of the slums the more deserted they’d become. The dark ways narrowed more and more to stand tall and ominous.

I whispered, “Let’s be careful.”

The alleyways lay quiet, even the open sewers dared not sound a trickle or gas a bubble.

I slid my perception into the celestial to search for Marco.

His soul was there, yet something was wrong. It glowed alive and beaming, but from it stretched a luminous trail that raged like billowing smoke in a gale-caught fire. Sparks also leapt after it to add to his shed soul-stuff, all of it burning off into Oblivion.

I hissed, “Wait!” And we stopped only one turn from the tower.

Nothing seemed to be lurking about his soul, and it didn’t seem to be ensnared by any kind of casting. I also looked to the tower where its celestial presence loomed dull and lifeless. I reminded myself that it’d looked that way before, no doubt masked by some kind of magic.

Sef asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t see them.

“They may be hidden.”

I shrugged as I resumed our march. “Perhaps.”

“Is Marco there?” asked Baruna.

“Yes, but something’s wrong.”

After another turn we entered the small square, it now occupied only by shadows and the echoes of distant riots. We passed through it to ignore the tower, and turned down the alleyway opposite.

“Where’s Marco?” Sef asked.

In the dim light it was hard to see anything in the alley except that it lay thick with rubbish and filth. The refugees who’d huddled in it were gone.

I slipped into the celestial to look again. There his soul was glowing with life right in front of us, but still shedding energy. It didn’t make any sense.