The three of us left the square – I couldn’t stay, not in a place so marked by death. I led us towards the port to leave behind emerging crowds that wandered in shock, spoke of miracles, or who simply stared after us.
To some of them I was still the Forsaken Lady, but for others I’d become something else. I didn’t notice it at first, but some of them followed.
Now seemed as good a time as any to walk the streets sensing for Maria and Pedro, as I didn’t think anyone would stop me. I felt tired, and doubted I could stand any more casting, but time for finding my family was running out.
Such thoughts reminded me of how I’d looked after the magic at the opera house. I lifted my hands to examine them, expecting to find them marked, stained, and wrinkled like a hag’s. With relief I saw that the skin hung a little loose, but it was barely noticeable.
My grandmother whispered, “You pushed it out, the gathered energy. You pushed it all out and didn’t let it wear you down.”
I slipped my perception into the celestial to answer her, still stung by her mockery as I’d been casting.
She was there waiting for me.
Her spectral form smiled with sparkling eyes as she welcomed me to the cold and dark void. There was something comfortable about her, about the way she carried herself. She seemed different to the way I sometimes saw her; the form marked by dark and empty eye sockets, and haunted by her skull halo.
I wondered at that. Her mood often seemed to differ, swinging easily from one extreme to another. Right now she waited to be warm and helpful, but at other times she’d been stubborn and bitter. I’d have to watch her. She was complicated, as if she came with two faces.
Regardless, this was no time to linger. I thanked her and returned my attention to the real world, to my new companions, and the search for my family.
Back on the cobbled avenues of Ossard, I walked with Baruna and Marco, along with a few others who shyly followed behind. They trailed in calm silence, not like the mob that had come down from St Marco’s, or the hateful crowd that had waited to meet them.
Those with me seemed to be gentle souls looking to bring Ossard back to peace. They’d been changed by recent events, shaken from their own complacent lives, to realise that they had a part to play in halting the city’s death.
Beyond any doubt, I was no longer forsaken, but that being the case; what was I? Of Schoperde, certainly, but the power I handled seemed to be more than priestly – after all I’d just bested an Inquisitor.
Every day only brought more mysteries.
Quite a few of the buildings we passed had been looted and some razed by fire. The streets were thick with rubble and ash. Scavengers picked over the ruins; rodents, birds, cats and dogs, and even people. Increasingly, the townsfolk weren’t after valuables, just food.
What had happened to my city?
The streets seemed deserted, but if you stopped and listened you could hear the movement of looters as they rifled through the rubble. More often, drowning out all else, came the mournful sobs of those left bereaved or homeless.
All of it dared me to consider that perhaps the city was too far gone, but I refused to accept it. I thought I could still have the old Ossard back and Pedro and Maria too. I had to believe it.
By the time we’d reached the waterfront, the numbers of those following me had tripled. Two dozen walked behind me, a mix of Heletians and Flets.
Thankfully, something distracted me from that uncomfortable realisation; the Lae Velsanan ship that had been in port only four days ago was again moored. A full score of its soldiers stood on the wharf, armed and barring access, while they eyed the smoke rising over the city.
Even at a glance, it was obvious that the sleek ship had taken damage. One of its three main masts was down, snapped near the base, other harm was also clear.
I walked towards it with Marco and Baruna, and followed by the rest. The Lae Velsanan guards in their sea-greens didn’t move, but watched our approach. I slowed as we neared.
Looking across the deck, I searched for the officer I’d spoken to before, but was wary of his cold-souled senior.
Activity covered the ship. Reset rigging dangled and strained as it was adjusted, a section of the bow’s railing was being mended, and new supplies delivered. The crew were busy, and amongst them laboured a bare-chested common-man.
The blonde Flet, broad-backed and muscled, toiled to move heavy crates into position on the deck. He turned about to expose his thick arms and toned chest, his torso covered in a gentle mat of golden hair. He laboured alone amongst the Lae Velsanans, but showed no sign of fear.
I looked to his face, from where sweat ran down his brow and temples, despite a cloth tied about his forehead. He straightened up and stretched, brushing back his hair to take with it the sweatband. The movement uncovered his pointed ears.
He was no middling; it was the Lae Velsanan.
If not for his ears, he could’ve so easily passed for a Flet. His chest spread twice as thick in width and depth compared to those surrounding him, and he stood around my height, making him very short for one of his own kind. He also carried a hard masculine air that his tall and lean fellows lacked, consequently he’d missed out on their innate sense of grace. He was an enigma.
He’d noticed that the crew about him had fallen silent, so turned towards the city and saw me. Casually, he waved, as if we were longtime friends, and then he bent down to grab his shirt as he called out orders.
After squeezing into his sea-green shirt, he made his way towards us. Behind him, three of his fellows moved to finish his hard tasks.
I felt embarrassed. I’d been ogling him, and now he interrupted his work to come and see what I wanted.
What did I want?
My mind swam with shameful images of his chest and strong arms. They were quickly chased away by guilty thoughts of my own family, and a city being lost to Death.
How could I think of such a thing, and with a Lae Velsanan!
He smiled as he closed the gap between us, but I still had no idea of what I wanted. His warm manner disarmed my growing unease. “How are you?” he asked, remembering that last time we’d met I’d fainted.
“Well, and much better than before.”
He nodded, and glanced past to the rising smoke that marked the city. “It has begun?”
I turned to look behind me, to that growing forest of twisting plumes that climbed over Ossard. Fresh fires were being lit all the time, adding to the haunting pall.
I said, “The city has split into factions.”
He grimaced as he wiped late sweat from his brow. “We lost a mast and some supplies at sea. You can’t see it from here, but just over the horizon is an arc of diabolical storms. Our Cabalist says that they’ve been raised with magic. It left us little choice but to return.”
“So you’ll stay?” My hopeful tone surprised me.
“No.” He looked to the skyline and shook his head. “None can stay, not now. We’ll try to leave again, and if necessary we’ll die in the trying. We have to get news of this to home.”
“Home, to Lae Wair-Rae?”
“Yes, to our High King.”
I began to worry. “Why? What business is it of his?”
“This is the business of everyone. It’s not about mortal politics, but divine power.” He then shook his head in anger at himself for his bluntness. After a pause, he forced a smile and asked, “Your child is safe?“
I could feel the blood drain from my face. “She’s been taken.”
He winced. “I’m so sorry.”
“Her father and his parents as well; they took the whole bloodline.”
And his jaw dropped in surprise. “The whole bloodline?”
“All of it, three generations.”
“By Velsana!”
“What does it mean?”
He took a step back as he looked to the smoke-dressed city. His eyes then darted back, but now held a mix of sympathy and fear. “It means too much…” and his words trailed off.
“I need your help, I need to understand.”
He shrugged. “I can’t tell you much, I’m no priest or cabalist.”
“Please, tell me what you can.”
After a moment, he said, “They need sacrifices to feed things during their rituals. Using souls linked by a bloodline boosts the power harvested, it means they can use less people to get the strength required. If they’re gathering them, then a ritual can’t be far off.”
“A ritual for what?”
“For control of the city. They want to create a haven, something that will become a base from where they’ll build an empire of corruption.”
I whispered, “They? The cultists?”
He nodded. “High King Caemarou won’t let it happen. He’ll go to war to stop it.”
“But Ossard is part of the Heletian League, and only the smallest member – just a city-state despite its wealth.” And how those words tasted sour, for the evidence about me spoke only of ruin. “If Lae Wair-Rae went to war against Ossard, King Giovanni of Greater Baimiopia would be forced to intervene. The Church of Baimiopia wouldn’t allow any other action…” my voice failed as I pictured the carnage.
He spoke my thoughts, “And the remaining Heletian League states would also be drawn in. It would make Dormetia a battlefield, and the sea at its heart a foul pond littered with butchered bodies.”
“It would be lunacy.”
“Letting Ossard fall to the cults is a greater madness.“
“Is it? Could they possibly cause as much destruction as Lae Wair-Rae and the Heletian League going to war?”
“Please, listen to me…” He shook his head as he waged some inner battle. “I want to help you, but…” he hesitated before finally speaking, “You ask if a cult-controlled Ossard could be worse than a war that took in all of Dormetia?”
“How could it?” I sighed. “It’s but one city!”
“Yes, but that dark Ossard would launch its own war, one waged with ritual magic. And with that they could win!”
Sincerity rode his words, yet how could one city bring such doom?
He saw my doubts and challenged them. “Look around you at the carnage and destruction, and this has only just begun. Imagine this happening in every village, town, and city. Imagine all nations falling into chaos, all streets seeing discord and riot, and all farms and houses being looted and razed. Imagine every child abducted, and every parent willing to take up arms to get their kin back. Imagine, in that chaos, how many innocents will die.”
His words reminded me of what Sef had said. I asked, “Will peace never have a chance?”
He shook his head. “If the cults ruled Ossard, peace would only come when all else has fallen. Any survivors would then have to suffer through war’s closest friends; pestilence and famine. Afterwards, Dormetia would spread as a bleak and wasted land, from the misty forests of Wairanir, to the icy coves of Quor, and the sunbaked bluffs of Serhaem. All of it would lie ruined and lifeless as a shrine to madness.”
He was right. I hated it, but he was right.
He went on, “Ritual magic will give them that power, and that’s why they must be stopped.”
Smoke rose over the city to add to the dark pall. A haze hung everywhere, and through it, I could hear occasional screams and distant fighting. Ossard had already fallen far, but had it fallen too far?
I still wasn’t sure…
I asked, “What are these rituals supposed to do?”
“There are many and they come in stages, and I’d think the first have already passed. The easiest things to watch for are three major rituals. The first uses the blood and souls of ninety-nine innocents. It creates a celestial beacon that will attract the gods.”
“Innocents?”
“Children.”
I swallowed. “Do you think they’ve already done that?”
“Yes, not that we know the when or where of it, but the beacon is lit and calling into the celestial.”
My mind went to the gory discovery in the warehouse of only days ago.
He went on, “Then there’s a ritual that requires one thousand and one sacrifices. It sanctifies the city.”
I nodded. “Is that what we’re facing now?”
“I would think so.”
“And the next?”
“The last ritual is the largest, and the most important to stop. It happens a year and a day after the city has been sanctified…” he paused, screwing up his mouth in revulsion, “and it takes ten thousand and one souls.”
I cursed, trying to conceive of the power.
He went on, “It creates a gate, a divine focus, a place where the celestial and the real world meet. It’s a place for raw energy to spill through, even the gods if they so wish. With such power behind it, a cult-ruled Ossard would be unbeatable.”
My grandmother whispered, “He speaks the truth.”
I asked, “Can we stop it?”
He nodded, but his face was grim. “It would be best to stop them sanctifying the city, but for a place this size, one thousand and one souls are not hard to find. We have to assume that they’ll be able to do it, and if they do, then our best course of action is to deny them the ten thousand and one souls they need for the next ritual.”
“How?”
He shifted his gaze to Baruna and Marco. “Who are these?”
The question surprised me, but worse still I didn’t have an answer.
Marco offered something in my hesitation, but his words only startled me more, “We follow her.”
I blushed. Gods had followers, not Flet housewives.
The Lae Velsanan looked back to me to share my surprise.
I glanced away in embarrassment, my gaze coming to rest on his ship’s crew. Some of them were watching us. Without even trying I found myself sampling their thoughts.
“Half-breed, look at him panting after that Flet!”
“Only second in command because of his family!”
“Look at the back of his shirt, already stained with sweat. He’s an animal, just like the middlings he mixes with!”
“Hairy mongrel, it’s demeaning to serve under him!”
I flinched at their resentment, but the officer didn’t notice, he’d dropped his eyes and was bowing.
“I am Felmaradis of House Jenn.”
I offered a curtsy in turn. “Juvela Liberigo.”
He said, “I know what I’m saying might sound incredible, particularly coming from a Lae Velsanan.”
I gave a slight nod.
“But Ossard is tainted, and now that corruption is blooming. There’s no easy way to stop it. You need to understand how much danger you’re in.”
I said, “Isn’t it possible that these troubles will pass?”
“Every city sees disturbances, even majestic Yamere, but this is different. This is not about local grievance or injustice. These aren’t mortal problems, but those fuelled by the divine. None of the factions involved will stop, not until they win control or are destroyed in the trying.”
I was beginning to believe him. “But I worry that Ossard will free itself of the cults, only to end up in the hands of the Inquisition.”
He said, “That’s preferable to the cults winning control and establishing a gate. If they’re collecting bloodlines, then they’re already preparing for powerful magic. When the city is dedicated to the Terura Kala, the cults of the Horned God, they’ll be able to conduct other rituals to secure their power. The more souls present in their sanctified city, the stronger the magic that they can call upon. Ossard will become a bridgehead, a place of dark magic, and the starting place for all things to come.”
“Can we stop it?”
He grimaced as he shook his head. “Them taking the city, no, it’s already lost. What we have to do is stop them keeping it, and going on to found their gate. You should leave the city and take any who’ll go with you, and you should do it while you can.”
“I won’t leave until I find my family.”
He grew intense. “Juvela, you don’t understand: I’m not asking you to leave and save yourself, I’m asking you to leave and save the rest of us. If you can get enough people out of the city, you might weaken them and delay their rituals.”
“Me? What if I can’t?”
“Ossard becomes a city of damnation. From here they’ll spread through their celestial gate to deliver their followers wherever they want. In time they’ll bring down all of Dormetia; from the Holy City of Baimiopia, to the cities of Fletland and Evora, and even the pillar-cities of Lae Wair-Rae and its colonies. In the end, we’ll all taste the bitterness of their corruption.”
I was confused. I just wanted Maria and Pedro back. “You’re telling me that my world is dying. It’s too much.”
He took a small step forward before whispering in perfect Flet, “I am second in command of this expedition, it led by Prince Jusbudere. We’ve been searching for the nest of the Terura Kala, and that search has brought us here. We’ve been watching for the last few seasons with suspicion, but now we know: They have chosen Ossard!
“You can only stop them by taking away what it is they want; Ossard’s souls. Find your daughter and husband if you can, but regardless you must get out.”
I protested, “Ossard has suffered upheaval before. Only twenty years ago the Inquisition was expelled amidst rioting!”
“Look around you. This is no simple upheaval; it comes with kidnappings, ritual magic, and sacrifice. This is wrong, and not something done alone at the whim of mortals. There are greater forces at work here, and they’ll tear this place apart. Get your family and get out!”
He was only making sense.
Felmaradis sighed. “We’re leaving to carry word of the city’s slide into chaos, and that word will be passed on to King Giovanni of Greater Baimiopia. He will send Heletians to liberate the city, most likely the Inquisition. Just get out and take as many innocents with you as you can. If you can get enough people to safety, you’ll delay their rituals, and maybe even stop them.”
“Where can we go?”
“Follow the next northern sound as it cuts inland, there’s a set of ruins along its north eastern shore. It’s far enough away, yet reachable, with fresh water, and defendable.”
“And how long should we stay?”
“As long as it takes; maybe a season or two, perhaps a year. I will visit and bring news. This ship can moor right alongside the old ruins.”
Who was I to lead people away from their homes and comforts, and into the wilds? It was crazy, yet he was right; something was terribly wrong in the city, and I couldn’t sit back and wait for someone else to do something about it.
I asked, “How long do you think we have?”
“I don’t know, but the gathering of bloodlines means it can’t be far off. They’re preparing to sanctify the city, and you’ll know when that’s close because there’ll be a rush of kidnappings. Remember; they’ll need over a thousand souls, and because of that they’ll go for bloodlines. Each blood-related soul is double the worth of those that aren’t. That’s when you need to get out, even if it means turning the city over to them, or leaving your family behind.”
For one last time, I asked, “Is it really that bad?”
“The city is what will power them, or more so, the souls within it. The only way to stop them is to keep Ossard in the hands of a safe faith, the Church of Baimiopia, otherwise the city will have to be razed.” He lifted his strong arms to put his hands on my shoulders. I looked into his eyes and felt a buzz of understanding, almost of kinship. He said, “It’s that bad, really. You’re a Flet, and I’m a Lae Velsanan, and we both know of the bloody history between our people, but you need to trust me.”
I gave a nod.
After a pause, he said, “If Ossard falls and becomes a nest of corruption, something ruled over by a demon-king, High King Caemarou will want the city taken. He’ll give King Giovanni and the Heletian League their chance, but if they fail, he’ll order the forces of Lae Wair-Rae’s Fifth and Final Dominion in. He can assemble a great fleet and army – one that will succeed. Once the city is secured, that gathered force will be put to use in nearby areas, and we both know where the next campaign will be.”
Weakly, I whispered, “Fletland!”
“I shouldn’t tell you these things, but I, unlike so many of my kin, love your people and hold them dear. Please believe it. It was a Flet woman, Una, who raised me, and it’s because of her that I speak.”
I nodded. It was common knowledge that the Lae Velsanans used middling slaves back at the Core of their dominion, many of them Flets.
“I’ve seen the plans: First they take some coastal towns to cut the roads between the three port cities, then, one by one, they lay siege to them before advancing up the river valleys. The coast will fall in a season, and the valleys and lakelands in a year. If Ossard is already gone, there’ll be few Flets left – and none that are free.”
I grew angry to hear such a thing. If he was right, the genocide would be all but complete. I looked to him, his sincere blue eyes and warm face. There was something about him. He cared. He wasn’t like the others, either his guards, or his cold-souled senior. I said, “I’ll do what I can. I’ll leave the city and find my family, and then find those ruins you spoke of. Thank you, Felmaradis, but I also have advice for you; watch your back. There are those amongst your crew who don’t think you deserve your post. I think otherwise.”
He grinned; he already knew. “In a season I’ll arrive at the ruins and expect to meet you and your family.”
A smile eased my doubts. I could trust him, even if he was Lae Velsanan.
From the centre of the city came the deep roll of thunder, its anger shaking the ground. We both turned to look; a huge ball of twisting black smoke rose into the sky, its bulk streaked red and yellow.
I turned back to Felmaradis. “What if Ossard destroys itself?”
“The worst outcome is to have the city unified under the Terura Kala. If it remains divided and feuding, they can’t make use of the souls here.”
“The city is divided between the Flets, the Heletians who support the Inquisitor, and finally the Reformers who follow the new saints.”
“The new saints?”
“Yes; Malsano, Santana, Rabisto, and Kave.”
“Malsano is of the Terura Kala, and Kave is also placed there by most scholars, though I’m not sure of the others.” He shrugged. “The Inquisitor might be hard to work with, but you know who he’s loyal to.”
“I understand.”
“I’m sorry I can only wish you luck. I’d stay and help if I could, but I have my own duties. If all seems lost, just get your people out. Don’t let them stay and be slaughtered.”
“I will.”
“I wish you well.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled and turned to go back to his ship.
I watched him leave, while listening to the distant sounds of fighting from the city. It was still spreading.
What lunacy.
A crowd had gathered around me. For a moment their presence irritated me – followers! What were they thinking?
My grandmother’s voice hissed, “Are you not worth following?”
Was I?
Damn it, I just wanted my family! If these people were going to insist on following me about like a pack of hungry children, they may as well work for whatever comfort I gave.
“Let’s go.”
They smiled, just having me address them filled their faces with life. Deep down their joy even gave me a lift. We were helping each other.
Felmaradis watched from the deck of his ship, and watching him was his brooding Prince.
We travelled up a street that would eventually lead us back to Market Square. It was a different route than we’d taken to get to the port, but I wanted to search a new area. I sensed the celestial as we walked down that mostly empty way, trying to concentrate on the task at hand, but my mind wandered…
Was Felmaradis right?
Could it be true?
Was it too late for Ossard?
We turned down another street, its buildings looted, some boarded up, and others gutted by fire. A haze of smoke haunted the streetscape, rising from the smouldering rubble that lay spilled about. It was an ominous path to take, but quiet, so I led us down it.
The smoke stung my eyes, while a dusting of ash powdered my dress. The silence made it painfully obvious that the street was empty, and all but abandoned and dead. Only this morning it had held shops with homes above, its own little community, but now all of that was gone. I supposed the people of the district were in hiding from the violence – or perhaps chasing it to other parts of Ossard.
It was a place of deep shadows, ruin, and sadness, but I still believed it could be made right. Surely, for this was prosperous Ossard.
Couldn’t it?
I stopped when I came to the first body.
It was a Heletian who’d been stabbed in the stomach and bled to death from the wound. He was sitting up against a wall, his bloody hands holding his stomach in, with his dying face marked by a harsh grimace. A black cloth was tied about his forehead – a follower of the Inquisition.
I took a few more steps, resolving to not let his unseeing eyes haunt me, but they did. I lifted my gaze heavenward to free myself of what else lay about, but couldn’t.
A thickening pall of smoke issued from the city’s countless fires to hang above and transform the day’s light into something ruddy and dark.
Had the city fallen too far?
My hopes insisted that I couldn’t be sure.
I slowed at the sight of another body. The bloody and torn folds of a dress covered the young woman’s sad remains, but the cloth was crassly hitched up at her legs. She’d been beaten to death and raped.
We kept moving only to find another corpse, then a pair, and then some more. Soon I didn’t look, I just walked between the rubble and the dead. I tried to ignore them.
How callous I felt…
We went as quickly as we could, but swirling smoke and spilled ruin made progress slow. Whatever had happened here had unfolded before the battle in the square. This was part of some other fight, terrible and senseless. It was simply a waste of life.
After trying to avoid the bodies and their glazed stares, I couldn’t when I walked through the thick smoke and into one hanging from a balcony above. It was a lady, a Flet lady, and she hung there cold and stiff.
I gasped. To my horror I recognised her; it was Heifer, the girl I’d shared my Mint Lady outing with.
Others had also been hung with her, she just the first in a long line. They looked similar, perhaps related, and with a chill I realised it was a bloodline.
Had the city fallen too far?
Perhaps…
…and I cursed myself for denying it.
With the rubble, smoke, and bodies making passage slow and difficult, I began to wonder if we’d ever escape. Then things worsened as the tight street we were in delivered us into a small square.
And there I saw Ossard’s truth.
The local square, not much wider than the street we’d walked down, had been converted into an open-air chapel to one of the new saints. I guessed that it’d been dedicated to Santana from the amount of oleander blossom and leaves used as decoration. The greenery now lay withered and blackened, and a small stage charred and ruined. Also there, with their hands and feet bound, were the blackened corpses of a score of Santana’s followers. They’d been tortured and killed.
Had the city fallen too far?
Yes it had, and I had to accept it.
It was time to return to Newbank.