Colin Tabor - The Fall of Ossard

Sef pleaded, “Juvela, you’ve got to control yourself. I can see what you’re doing, and if you’re not careful you’ll become just like our foes!”

He was right, but was it already too late?

The further we moved, the more we escaped the battle’s heart and came into a strange kind of peace. It was dotted with exhausted Reformers who smiled and quietly celebrated, despite their wounds and fatigue.

We passed through them to stop at the base of the Residence’s steps. Ahead of us, at the centre of the rising stairs, spread a pool of blood being fed drip by drip from a plump and robed body hanging from the balcony. Bloodied and burnt, with arrows sticking out of it, it slowly twisted and turned in the smoke-heavy breeze.

It was Benefice Vassini!

The body twitched – life remained in the poor man!

I looked into the celestial to see bonds of power humming about him. The casting was a curse, it blocking his soul from breaking its last links to his mortal form. The cultists had done it to torment him.

Unbelievably, a child played at the edge of pooled blood. Next to her, a slim but tall man dragged his own fingers through the congealed mess as it dribbled down step by step. Horrified, I moved to stop him, but at the same moment he stood and turned while rubbing his bloodied fingertips together.

The air chilled.

By the flaring light of Ossard’s fires, I could see that he was neither Flet nor Heletian, but Lae Velsanan.

He looked up to the Benefice, his spell breaking the bonds entrapping Vassini’s soul. The dangling form shuddered, and then gave out a final but relieved moan.

I turned back to the Lae Velsanan, but he was already disappearing into the crowd. His magic tasted familiar – it something of Life. He was an ally, if a mystery, perhaps something for another time.

Holding Sef’s arm, I stepped forward to skirt the pooled blood and climb the stairs. It was time to get my family and deliver justice to Kurgar.

The great timber doors stood open at the top of the steps, yet I had to stop and steady myself against one of them as I tried to deal with my roiling power.

I looked back across the square. It had seemed so chaotic only moments ago, but now I could see that most of it was already in the Reformers’ grip. The Loyalists still fought on in isolated pockets, outnumbered, and being cut down. Their only organised resistance stood to ring the Cathedral, but even that force was being overrun and wasted.

The Loyalist defeat was so certain a thing that many Reformers turned from the fight. Their leaders directed them to clear the cobbles of bodies and prepare for the building of a great pyre, while behind them, from the direction of the port, a convoy of timber-loaded carts began to come into the square.

The ritual?

They were quick with their work, their hurry nagging me to also move. Beyond them, I noted, the eastern sky was brightening.

I lent hard against the door, trying to deal with the power boiling within me. It was caustic and difficult to handle, particularly now that it mixed with my excitement as I closed in on my family.

Sef put a hand to my shoulder. “Are you alright?”

I could only give him a nod, as speaking would have revealed the truth.

“Are you sure?”

I closed my eyes and nodded again, but this time concentrated on calming myself. After a deep breath, I pushed off from the door to open my eyes and said, “Let’s go.”

Sef’s worry lifted into surprise, him staring at the woodwork I’d been leaning against. I turned to look.

Spreading from where my body had touched its polished finish ran the swirling images of white roses. Green leaves and shoots also ran through the decoration, all of it tinged with the red health of new growth.

Sef whispered, “The Lady of the Rose, that’s what they call you!”

So many things were happening to me, and there was still so much more to learn. All I could say was, “Better that than the hag of oleander.”

Sef smiled and gave a soft laugh. “It’s a measure of your power. You’re ready.”

I blushed, knowing the truth of where so much of my power had come from – the souls I’d stolen.

What was I doing?

Ashamed, I promised myself; I’d not steal another, never again. I took a deep breath and tried to hold on to my calm. “Sef, with you by my side, I can do anything.”

The entry hall spread before us with a layer of ash and litter covering its marble floor. Likewise, the walls’ rich wood panelling had already been defaced with obscene carvings and angry scrawls.

I whispered to myself of courage and promised to be true to Life…

But the hunger was still there despite my gluttony. It ached deep down in an empty place, sending up giddy shivers of longing…

No, I’d be strong. I had to be. Feeding on stolen souls was the path to addiction and submission to Death.

Yet that hunger now lurked within me, and was always going to be there. The damage was already done…

No, control and strength would see me through. If I took one more, it’d only lead to another, and then another two.

But it had felt so good, and the power harvested could ensure my family’s escape. Surely, just one more soul wouldn’t lead to addiction? I could control it, and besides if it were Kurgar’s, it would merely be a kind of justice…

No, I couldn’t!

But what if I needed that extra power to rescue my family?

No!

But to come all this way, only to fail because I didn’t have the power needed…

Well…

Just one, just to seal the rescue…

Well, just one, but then never again.

And, as we advanced across the entry hall, I noticed that I was drooling.

No one came to stop us, not at the entry, nor in our passage through the hall. When we reached the stairs we both paused before beginning our climb, knowing that Kurgar would be in the Lord’s office, at the traditional hub of Ossard’s power.

Noise came to us from above as we ascended. Footfalls and slamming doors, people rushing from room to room; meetings, discussions, and of course some looting.

How quickly they’d taken this place.

We came to the first landing, Sef with his sword drawn, and me with my determination. I shivered as I wiped saliva from my chin.

A voice came to us from down the corridor, a hard thing followed by heavy footfalls. “Stop! What’d you do here?”

Sef and I turned to face the speaker.

A man stepped forward with his sword out, moving to block our path. He looked to be a Kavist from his arms and armour, with another stepping up behind him to back him up.

Sef said, “Let us pass my friend, our business is not with you.”

The first man frowned as the rhythm of more footfalls sounded from further back. “Your business is with us if you’re here.”

I said, “We’ve come to see Kurgar, and that’s something we’ve done easily enough before.”

“Before you turned half of Newbank against him!” the lead Kavist growled, and then he addressed Sef, “Brother, you’ve turned your back on Kave!”

Sef shuffled uncomfortably.

The Kavist’s fellow snapped, “It’s to be expected! If I’m not wrong, this isn’t any brother of mine, he’s Sef, the lone man of Kaumhurst.”

Sef grew tense, but I had no time for taunts and bravado. I said, “I’ll not be refused.”

The footfalls behind them grew louder, before the silhouette of another hulking warrior showed in the dim light.

The lead Kavist, ignoring the latest arrival, sneered. “You can’t pass.” And he raised his blade to let it hang in the air between us.

The third Kavist stepped into the light; tall and broad, yet fresh-faced. It was Cherub.