I found myself on my balcony taking in a terrible view. The night sky spread in amber, highlighted in yellow and red over the districts where the fighting flared at its worst. Twisting pillars of smoke rose to feed the bloated pall above, and about it all rained ash and sparks adding to the hellish glow.
I couldn’t see any stars or even the broad and swirl-marked face of the moon. It was as though the world centred on the unstoppable fall of Ossard and nothing but that lone doom. Aside from the granite-flanked valley snaking away eastwards, there was only the dark sea to the west. Nothing else could be seen. We were all alone now at the city’s death.
Newbank held bustle and noise, some of it angry, yet no wild fires flared. Our district’s only part in the current chaos seemed to be in the endless stream of warriors we sent across the river, but such actions only added to the certainty of the coming end.
Regardless of plan or policy, the Flets of Ossard were already aligned to the new saints. The revelation of the fourth, Kave, had seen to that.
I might not have had all the answers, and been somewhat confused, and no doubt deceived by others, but my soul could sense the truth: The stink of the Horned God clung to the city.
Ossard was doomed.
There was nothing left to do, but to try one last time to find my family and then leave.
Rumours were already running of a new wave of kidnappings. It could only be the spike Felmaradis had warned of: The cultists were getting ready to sanctify the city.
Many of Newbank’s Flets laughed at such stories coming from across the river, but I couldn’t. I knew what it was to have my loved ones stolen away.
Word had also come of the Inquisitor sending a ship south. It had cast off to seek aid from Greater Baimiopia and summon the rest of the Black Fleet. It wouldn’t get through. The unnatural storms Felmaradis had spoken of would be waiting for it. The simple truth was that whoever had worked to ruin Ossard had done a masterful job -and all the while remained hidden.
A knock sounded at my door.
I turned. “Yes?”
It was Sef. “We’ve just heard news from our returning people.”
He meant the packs of Kavists who’d crossed the river.
“What news?”
He strode in wanting to be close.
I grew worried. “Pedro and Maria?”
“No.”
I sighed with relief. “What then?”
“Juvela, it’s you! The Inquisitor has declared you responsible along with Kurgar for the woe that has taken the city. He’s demanded your head and body to be salted and burnt separately.”
I laughed. What a fool Anton was. He was as lost at finding the real power behind the city’s troubles as I was, so now he looked for excuses.
Well, that did it. Even with my emerging power, it‘d now be a needless risk to walk Loyalist streets – unless I had a definite location for my family. He’d confined me to Newbank, as the districts of the new saints were already unsafe for me. I thought about it for a moment; in truth, with the growing number of people moving between Newbank and the city, I wasn’t even safe here.
I sighed.
Sef asked, “Are you alright?”
“Compared to Ossard, I’m fine.”
He gave me a weak smile.
I said, “I want to see Kurgar.”
“We should wait until morning.”
He was right, but how many more mornings did the city have? “I suppose it can wait. Sorry Sef, I’m exhausted and not thinking clearly. I must get something to eat and some sleep.”
He nodded. “What do you want to see him for?”
“I should share what Felmaradis has told me.”
“He’ll laugh at you, as any Flet would – taking advice from a Lae Velsanan.”
“Would you?”
Instead of answering, he said, “You’d be better off asking Kurgar for protection, for a secure place to stay. This house is too open and well known.”
“I’d not thought about it.” And I hadn’t.
“You know, Kurgar has authority over the Guild’s buildings and also owns several himself. He even has an unused tower, its five levels high and defendable.”
“A tower?”
“It’s in the middle of Newbank’s slums, it was part of the old city wall.”
I still felt safe with Sef, like a child in the arms of its father. “I think I’m alright here, there are scores of people downstairs.”
“Juvela, it’s not just the Inquisitor’s declaration you need worry about, remember you carry a divine mark.”
As if I could forget.
“I’ll think about it. Perhaps it is a good idea.”
He turned for the door. “I’ll have some supper sent up and then you should rest.”
“Yes, thanks, Sef.”
He left, closing the door behind him.
I turned back to look out upon a city dotted with fires and haunted by the rising tones of Schoperde’s long and sad song. While it wasn’t being sung as strongly as it had been in earlier days, it still rose to be heard.
Food came quickly. I was so tired that I barely remembered eating it before lying down. In my bed I embraced a pillow while thinking of Pedro and then all but passed out.
I rose early to use the celestial to search the opposite shore for the souls of my family. I stayed there standing on the balcony in the crisp grey before dawn. My perception wandered every street, every alley, and even drifted through the sewers.
I didn’t find them.
When Sef came I’d been crying for a good while, so long in fact that my eyes glared red-rimmed and sore. He didn’t have to ask why.
I said, “Could they’ve been taken out of Ossard?”
“No, they’re here. They need to be for the ritual.”
I wiped at my tears. “Of course.”
He nodded. “We’ll find them, it’s not too late. They’ll be shielded by magic, something strong that they can’t be seen through.”
“You’re right.”
He offered a smile. “I know this hurts and that you suffer, but remember there are always others who’ve endured more.”
“Like poor Marco.”
“Yes, and Baruna, they’ve both had to walk hard roads.”
He was right. In comparison I was lucky, at least for my loved ones there was still hope. And that thought sparked another. “And you, Sef, what of you? I know you’ve suffered in the past, but you’ve never spoken of it.”
He paled, seeing me regret my prying.
“I’m sorry, you needn’t speak of it.”
He shook his head. “No, I know I needn’t, but I will.” And he paused as he gathered himself, “I was a priest of Kave tending to the needs of his warriors where the lakelands, forests, and plains meet. It was a calling I’d not looked for, but earned after the siege of my home village.
“I grew up there, a small place called Kaumhurst. I’d been a farmer and carpenter, and even married…”
“Married!”
He smiled at my surprise. “With a daughter as well.”
And in an instant, the hardness of the man I knew melted.
“In Fletland it’s everyone’s duty to defend their village from raiders and bandits through service to their local militia. It was the only time I handled weapons, something I’d never felt comfortable with.
“One day Kaumhurst was besieged. They’d been seen coming through the dark before dawn, a gang of brigands crossing our fields. They were brazen, carrying torches and their battle colours high, some of them were even singing and blowing on field horns. By the time they arrived our village was roused and ready behind our stockade, and then began the strangest siege I’ve ever heard of.
“It started as a standoff, with them making little in the way of demands. On occasion they’d call out insults and fire off arrows. We had enough food and water so we were content to wait. To be honest, we were bemused about the way they’d gone about it: They drank as they sat about a bonfire, singing through each night, they seemed more intent on enjoying themselves. It was the strangest thing we’d seen, and not the kind of raid any of us had ever heard of.
“Others came to join them – and that was the only thing that worried us. Their numbers grew from two dozen to four score before…” and then his words trailed away.
I said, “You don’t have to go on, Sef, I can see your pain.” And I could imagine the outcome; of a final battle and the death of his family.
He shook his head. “I’m alright, and I’ll finish what I’ve begun.
“As you can imagine, we were getting more anxious as their numbers grew – and them more foolhardy. They taunted us by firing arrows, building greater bonfires, and holding nightlong feasts that served up our own livestock.
“Then came a long day of argument that divided the village as our patience ran out. We couldn’t agree on action, yet it would only take one more incident to make blood flow. Sure enough, the fools gave it to us: That dusk the bandits took flaming brands from their bonfires and began torching our fields.
“We let two bands of archers out to catch our foes by surprise. Still, they’d come for a fight, so after some success we were forced back to our stockade and back inside.
“It was a tense night, one that dragged on only to be broken by taunts. It also seemed that their numbers still grew, for we saw two more groups marked by torchlight crossing our smouldering fields. Lost in the dark of night and drifts of eye-watering smoke it was hard to follow all that went on, but one thing I couldn’t miss was my wife, Anja, hit by an arrow.
“It was just a soft thud and then her ragged gasp. She fell to her knees, and so did I as I took her into my arms. She was in a bad way with too much blood running from her chest. I was scared. I just knew that she was going to die.
“My mother came forward, cradling our infant daughter, and all the while Anja knelt there, held by me, trying to take her last breath.
“Horns sounded and the cries of bandits. Someone yelled a warning from the top of the stockade as flaming arrows began to rain down to land in dirt, thatched roofs, and flesh. Fires sprang up to throw everything into a ruddy light, including my beloved’s ruin.
“There and then I knew my family and home were doomed, but I wouldn’t have it. I stood and roared my grief, vowing to give my soul and service to Kave if he’d bless me with the strength to save all that I held dear.
“Like a falling star, something hit me, aglow and full of power. It landed with so much force that it blasted the nearest part of the stockade apart. I emerged enraged and by Kave’s blessing berserk.” Sef shook his head in disgust.
“I awoke surrounded by countless bandits dead and covered in blood and gore. The scene was lit in amber, tinted by smoke and the rising sun of the new day. As I’d offered, I’d saved the village and my loved ones, and all for the cost of my soul.
“I was hailed a hero, a true man of Kave, and held in such esteem that I became his priest to serve the local Kavist patrols. And in all this I served the interests of everybody but myself.”
His words made me wonder; how could such a thing happen? The giving of yourself to one you didn’t hold faith in?
He nodded at my unspoken question, something I suspected he’d asked himself time and time again. “It didn’t matter because it all came to nought. That strange gathering of brigands happened once more a year and a day later. They again taunted the village, but this time when they began their attack they made sure that they laid waste to everything.” He looked me in the eye, his gaze cold and hard. “My village, mother, wife and our daughter are all gone and dead. I survived because they wanted to leave me to suffer. That was their revenge, not just the deaths of those I loved, but for me to survive them.
“I was so angry with Kave for allowing such a thing that I walked away from my duties and sought the peace of Ossard. I’ve barely served him since, and in truth there’s still a reckoning to come between us.”
I didn’t know what to say.
He laughed at my silence. “Not your average tale, it’s true. And that’s the short version. Maybe I’ll tell you more of it when we’re sitting about a fire in Marco’s ruins.”
I remained silent.
He joked, “Come now, so I’m not on speaking terms with my god, worse things can happen.”
Finally, I said, “I had no idea you harboured such pain.”
He stilled his laughter, giving me a quick nod of thanks. “That’s all for now, that’s what happened, but now we need to worry about today.”
It was my turn to nod.
He asked, “Do you still want to go and tell Kurgar about your chat with the Lae Velsanan, this Felmaradis?”
“Yes, perhaps he’ll laugh at me, but he should know in any case.”
“And what about your people downstairs? They can’t all go, and I doubt they’d even let the Heletians amongst them in.”
“Marco and Baruna can come with us, the others will have to stay.” I paused, considering. “Perhaps we should take a few more just for appearances.”
“Appearances?”
“If we take two more, Flets, it might put any fears about Marco and Baruna to rest.”
Sef offered, “Perhaps, but we could just leave them all behind and be done with it.”
“True, but maybe it’s not a bad idea to give the Guild a sense of what’s happening here. It might help add weight to my opinion.”
“Alright, but who?”
“I don’t know. Marco and Baruna will be familiar with some, they can pick two.”
“I’ll go down and get them organised. That’ll give you a moment to get ready.”
After changing and soothing my red eyes with cool water, I made my way downstairs. It was crowded, more so than the night before, the kitchen bustling as it served up a porridge breakfast. Sef greeted me at the bottom of the steps and grinned at my surprise. Simply, I asked, “How many?”
“Enough, the courtyard is full so they now gather in the street.”
My smile dropped, replaced by an embarrassed blush. “The street?”
He nodded. “You should look, but compose yourself.”
“Tell me, how many?”
“I think we’ve a hundred in the house and maybe that again in the courtyard and stable…”
“Stop it, Sef, how many?”
“And well over a hundred in the street, perhaps closer to two. They just keep coming, but ask for nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, nothing but to see you.”
“What?”
“They’re looking for the lady who saved so many in the square. They’re calling you their Lady of Hope, and the rose that blooms from Ossard’s despair.” He paused, “They gain comfort in just being here.” His voice softened, “We all do.”
I turned from him to see the people in my home continue their bustle, yet slow and look my way. Standing in the shadows at the base of the stairs my blush only deepened. It was hard to believe.
So much was changing…
Despite my awkwardness I smiled, a small thing that grew. Those around me took it as my acceptance of them, and from it their own smiles were sown. The air tingled with their relief. Strangely, their feelings gave me succour, it coming to me as a rising high.
After a long moment of basking in that feeling it began to fade. It took me a while, but I soon realised that it wasn’t because they tired of me; I’d just grown used to it. I needed something stronger to attain the same feeling.
I needed more of them!
One taste of their gifted power – their faith – and I was hooked. I could now understand why the gods thirsted for being followed: It wasn’t about ego, morals, or even perhaps power for power’s sake, it was for the high built of the elation it generated.
It also explained why they hungered for Ossard’s chaos and the soul harvest it promised. If something as simple as faith gave the gods a rush, what would the consumption of a soul feel like? What about a dozen, or a hundred, or even a thousand? I shuddered.
Were the gods addicted to it?
Of course they were!
In a hoarse voice I said, “Take me, I need to see them.”
Sef nodded, but my hungry tone aroused his concern.
He led me through the crowded room to the entry hall, all the way clearing people from my path. They looked to me offering their devotion with their souls and their hope with their hearts.
They trusted me.
Adrenalin coursed through my body while my mind burnt through thoughts and emotions as my soul lifted itself to a higher state. I sucked in their offered faith like a whirlpool guzzling at water. I forced my steps on, but celebrated every stride, and each revealed yet another soul that wanted to nourish me.
I was elated, but also struggling to come to terms with the feeling.
When we reached the door, Sef asked, “Are you alright?”
My voice rumbled, “Yes.”
He looked to me with anxious eyes.
I reached out and touched his shoulder to let some of my gathering power flow.
He gasped as his eyes opened wide in wonder.
“Sef, the door.”
“Of course.” And he opened it.
The street spread before us packed full of people sitting on the cobbles even at this early hour. They stilled their hushed conversations, hundreds of them, a mix of Flets and Heletians, men and women, and from across the ages, as they turned at the door’s sound. The morning air hung cool about them as the smoke-stained sky spread gold above, and there, like magically sprouting from Spring’s garden, they all rose together as one.
I stepped out to be amongst them, seeing their faces light up, and with each smile my soul fed and grew. Some of them called out or reached for me, but all of them unknowingly touched me. And now I knew what I had to do.
Hope was here!
Aligned to me they’d sought me out.
Hope was here!
And my soul buzzed as I drank in their offered power.
Hope was here!
And something strained in the celestial; the last of the bindings that held me. They stretched as I grew stronger, my rising power making my soul flex, until, in one amazing moment, they finally gave way.
Hope was here!
And in that other world, a ring of power rushed out to swamp the souls gathered nearby. It surged so strongly that it also manifested itself in the real world as a green mist laced with sparks of gold.
It was a blessing…
My blessing.
And as it touched them I could see their faces light up.
Hope was here!
Hope had arrived in Ossard!
I couldn’t deny it:
I was a god!
Sef whispered, “You must speak to them.”
I stepped forward and gestured for those near me to sit so those behind could see. “I am Juvela Liberigo and I welcome you to my home.”
Some of them cheered while others clapped, but most just sighed with relief. Someone called out, “Thank you, Lady of Hope!”
I went on, “There’s little room left inside, yet you are welcome to it all the same – and to join us when we move.”
A man called out, “Where are we going, Sweet Lady?”
Sef shook his head a fraction to indicate the need for discretion.
“Our destination is one that welcomes peace.”
A woman asked, “How can we help?”
“Spend the day gathering what you can, for we’ll have to leave the city and travel on open roads. You’ll need food, blankets, good shoes, and clothes to protect against the coming of winter.” I smiled. “And deep reserves of cheer.”
A young woman queried, “I’ve a young babe, and you wish to lead us from the safety of the city?”
“The city is no longer safe with only worse to come. We seek a place of hope and compassion where there’s a chance for survival.”
A voice called, “Does such a place exist?”
“Yes, a sanctuary, a place of warmth and comfort. It’s free from the new saints and cultists, and even the Inquisition.”
“Won’t we just be running?” another asked.
“To stay will see us feed these diabolical flames. We must survive them, and watch for a chance to return and help heal the city.”
They accepted my words, just glad to have seen me. Above all else they wanted hope, so I’d given it to them.
Sef whispered, “Well done. Time for the Guild?”
I nodded as I waved to the crowd, turning from their cheers.
We rode out with six of us crowded into the coach. I sat next to Baruna and Sef, while Marco sat between two Flets that he’d chosen.
Marco said, “I wonder how many will be here when we return?”
I said, “Not too many more.”
Sef smiled. “I’m not so sure.”
I said, “We’ll only get the people who are certain, and from what I’ve seen so far, they’re the ones with wounded hearts who feel they’ve nothing left to lose. There are still others out there innocent of the city’s madness, but yet to be convinced.”
Baruna offered, “You convinced a lot of people in Market Square.”
“Yesterday?”
“Yes, and when you stopped that cultist from stealing the lady’s child, and also when you fought to stop them taking your family.”
It’d never occurred to me that at such desperate moments I’d been on display. I opened my mouth to say something, but found myself speechless.
Baruna smiled. “It showed us something of you, of your strength and willingness to risk yourself for others.”
Finally my open mouth found my voice, but it wasn’t much of a pairing, “Oh.”
Marco laughed, the sound soft and rich. The others were swift in joining him.
Travel through the streets of Newbank was quick at this early hour. We passed a crowd still working at last night’s dark celebration, a good portion of their number Heletian – followers of the new saints. The sight of them unnerved me. While the majority were probably innocent to the truth of their allegiances, not all would be.
We arrived at the Guildhall to find the grand old building abuzz despite the quiet on the streets. Eyebrows were raised at my entourage, but we pushed past their stares, outstretched hands, and curses, their anger directed solely at the Heletians amongst us. Marco and Baruna bravely walked on, not acknowledging the slights or stares. Through it all they retained their cool and dignity to win yet more of my respect.
On reaching Kurgar’s office we were asked to wait. Eventually, a guildsman returned, his eyes laying too long on Marco and Baruna. “You can go in.” It seemed that all my company would be admitted.
We entered his office to find it hosting a tense air. Instead of it being crowded with guildsmen and others who’d watched our previous meetings, this time it held only three; Kurgar, Ciero of the Cabal, and Seig of Kave. The latter’s presence made me uncomfortable, making me wonder again at Sef’s mixed loyalties.
Kurgar began, “Juvela, you’ve been creating quite a stir.”
“If you’re referring to what happened at Market Square, I only did what I could to stop the Inquisitor.”
He nodded.
Ciero stood to his right, the cabalist staring grimly. “Who’d have thought a novice could best an inquisitor? This stinks of renegade magic!”
I was surprised by the accusation. “I’m no renegade.”
Seig said, “My concern is not the magic or where you learnt to cast, but your followers. I believe that’s what they’re calling themselves?”
Baruna said, “We follow her because of her actions.”
Kurgar frowned at the interruption. “And who are you?”
“Baruna, Baruna Discotti.”
“You’re in Newbank as a guest, and you’ll not use the Guild as a forum.” He shook his head. “Juvela, I was told that you wished to speak to me, please, I’m here to listen?”
“Thank you, I have some information.”
“About your family?”
“No, about what’s happening in the city.”
“Go on?”
“The source will be mistrusted by most…”
He interrupted, “But not by you?”
“I trust it, but it was from a Lae Velsanan.”
His eyes went wide. “Really?”
“From an officer in Lae Wair-Rae’s military.”
“And what is this information?”
“He believes Ossard is to fall, only to rise again as a city of the Horned God – a power they call Terura. He said it will become a nest of corruption, so they’ve left to carry word to King Giovanni of Greater Baimiopia.”
“Really, and what do they care of what happens in Ossard?”
“They worry it’s the beginning of something bad, a place from which dark armies will come.”
“And their work is sanctioned by their High King?”
“Yes, the expedition is commanded by one of his sons.”
“And this officer told you all this?”
“Yes, a senior officer. He said that if the Heletian League couldn’t recover a fallen Ossard that High King Caemarou would send a Dominion fleet.” I licked my lips. “He also said that such a force, once assembled and with its task complete, would then be put to work in nearby Fletland.”
Kurgar raised his eyebrows. “A very helpful Lae Velsanan, isn’t he! I suppose he also gave you their battle plan?”
Seig burst out laughing.
I kept quiet.
Kurgar joined the laughter, as did the cabalist.
I felt a fool.
Well, Sef had warned me…
Kurgar began afresh, “Perhaps this Lae Velsanan was trying to misinform you. If that’s the case, it would be safe to say that we should be doing the opposite of what he said.” His brow furrowed. “Did he suggest, for example, that you should work against the Reformers and instead support the Inquisition?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Predictable, isn’t it? He wants us to side with the one force in the city that wants us dead!”
I didn’t believe it, but realised I wasn’t going to change Kurgar’s mind. “But the kidnappings?”
“Are probably a trick of the Inquisition. After all, Inquisitor Anton didn’t lift a finger to help you when your family was taken from right in front of him.”
It seemed hopeless and the world too confused. “Felmaradis spoke of coming rituals, of magic that would eat up countless souls and…”
“Countless?”
“He said they’d want to open a gate, a celestial gate, and that eventually they’d need ten thousand and one souls to fuel it.”
Seig again burst out laughing while Kurgar and Mauricio joined in. Finally, the Guildmaster said, “Juvela, that’s an awful lot of power!”
I sat there in silence.
He added, “You know the Inquisitor has issued an order for your head?”
I nodded.
His voice softened, “Please, Juvela, I’m sorry for my harsh tone, but I’ve so many people depending on me that I just don’t have time to consider such a thing. The people of Newbank would never support it in any case.”
And that was true. “I understand.”
“Please, tell me how your hunt for your family is going?”
“I’ve had no more success.”
“Please, if you need anything, just ask.”
I whispered my thanks.
There was nothing left to discuss. The Guild had made its choices, just as the people of Newbank had. In the end, I said, “I have one last question.”
“Yes?”
“Did you discover who’s leading them; the new saints?”
He shook his head. “While it’s been difficult to identify their leadership, everything they’ve promised through their messengers has been honoured.”
I nodded, rose, and left.
On the way home, I stopped by to check on my parents.
We passed through streets growing busy, though thankfully our passage remained quick. From a distance their house seemed calm and orderly enough, standing silent with its windows shuttered. I had Kurt stop the coach and the others – except Sef – remain behind. This, I hoped, would be a short visit.
I entered the house expecting to be greeted by a maid, but none came. The hall spread about me dark and quiet, the room lost to shadow.
Everything seemed to be in order. The only thing unusual was the lack of light and the absence of anybody to greet me. I moved in deeper. That’s when I noticed that the door leading to the courtyard was open – the only source of light and also a faint breeze.
Soft murmurs sounded from outside. My steps quickened, and that’s where I found them.
My father sat on a bench with slumped shoulders and shadowed eyes, his gaze locked onto the rose garden, but I doubted he saw a single petal of its ash-dusted blooms. He was lost to us. Mother sat on another bench across from him also adrift in some trance of gloom. One maid sat with her, stroking Mother’s hair with one hand while the other held a cloth to her brow. The other maid knelt on the cobbles between them whispering hopeful nothings.
They hadn’t noticed my arrival.
“What’s happened?” I asked as I stepped into the courtyard with Sef.
The maids turned to show their pale and drawn faces, but neither of my parents responded.
The maid sitting with my mother said, “Lady Juvela, such tragedy! Your mother grew distant yesterday not long after you left, and then news came of a mob looting your father’s business. He went out there with a group of guildsmen, but they were too late. When he returned, he was so shattered, he could only join your mother in grief.”
She turned back to my mother to stroke her hair. I noticed she wasn’t just doing it to comfort her, she was also brushing ash away from where it landed to settle on her head.
I stepped closer. “Mother, Father, it’s me, Juvela. Are you well?”
The kneeling maid, her eyes red from tears, said, “They won’t talk, they haven’t since sunset yesterday.”
Father sat there turning something over and over in his hands. I knelt in front of him to see that it was the key to the business.
And then my mother whispered, “The child?”
Maria…
I turned. “I haven’t found her, I’m still looking.”
She whispered again, her voice unbearably tense, “The child, the poor child!” She sat stiffly, her fingers trembling as her tears began.
In the celestial, my grandmother walked about her trying to soothe her soul while she also wept. I could feel her guilt. She’d done this to her, to my mother, to her very own daughter, all those years ago as she’d been burnt to death.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find her. I’ll get both her and Pedro, I swear.”
And she mumbled on, “The child, the child!”
I went to her and took her into my arms.
She whispered again, “The child!”
Grandmother stroked her soul, massaging it, trying to get her to relax.
Mother calmed, yet still went on to repeat her mantra.
I smoothed her hair and wiped tears from her cheeks. Something was broken in there. Whether it was the chaos of the city, the kidnappings, or the loss of Maria – it had all been too much.
My mother pulled out of my embrace to settle back on the bench. She began to relax and go quiet, now composed again. Then, when I thought she’d found some kind of peace, she hissed, “The children, we must protect the children!” And her words saw us all grow tense.
My father looked to me and said, “It’s all gone, the shop and warehouse. It’s all gone. There’s nothing left.”
“Father, I’m so sorry to hear it.”
He shook his head. “And what other ill news could there be?”
“Father, the Inquisitor has put out an order for my arrest.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know, but he’s also named Heinz Kurgar.”
“Why can’t they just work together towards peace?”
“Father, I don’t think they want it.” And it was the first time I’d given voice to the truth.
He fell silent, making me regret speaking such news.
I asked the maids to pack for them, and to have them ready for travel. I said we’d be back to collect them when we left the city, and that they were also welcome to join us.
The ride home began in silence. Marco, Baruna, and the others read enough in my face to not ask any too many questions, but Sef had other ideas. “Juvela, we could send some people around to watch over them, perhaps to make sure that they’re ready to leave?”
I considered it and decided the suggestion had merit. “Do it, it’ll be the only way we can make sure that they’re ready to go. We can have a few people stay there, but not in the house, just the stores and stables.”
Sef nodded.
On the short ride home I worked at trying to forget what I’d seen. That was when something new grabbed my attention; a familiar face on the street. The man was only in view for a moment, but it was long enough.
I knew him…
He wore a hooded robe, yet I knew that strong jaw and those cold eyes. It was the cultist who’d stolen the red-headed boy prior to my coming of age, and then later sacrificed him while I lay under Pedro being deflowered.
He’d know where my family was!
“Stop!” I yelled, as I went for the door.
The cultist stood at a street stall, but must have sensed me, for his head snapped about.
I dropped to the cobbles.
“Wait!” Sef called out.
The cultist watched my charge, my power surging.
He just stood there.
My spirit soared as I closed. I reached out with my hands in the mortal world, and with spectral limbs that rippled with power in the celestial.
But my eager hands passed right through him.
What?
I stopped hard against the stall, its merchant staring at me in fright. I stood there in confusion, the cultist’s image fading as my celestial limbs also failed to entrap anything.
An illusion!
I looked around.
There, down an alleyway, he again stood grinning at me. His voice hissed for only me to hear, “You’ve so much to learn.” And it dragged through my mind like bog-dirty fingers.
I charged after him again, my heart thumping like a drum.
He turned and ran down a dirt alley that doubled as an open sewer, heading for the heart of Newbank’s slums.
I ran on, not caring for anything else. Every time he tried to lose me in those twisting ways, I’d just keep on.
He darted ahead and around a bend, past stalls, bleak refugees, and a pair of men betting on knuckles. I just kept going. Finally, the alleyway opened into a small square hosting a crowded local market.
I came to a stop, but couldn’t see him.
I moved through the crowd towards an alley that seemed to be in the direction he’d been heading, but to no avail. I turned about to search the broader crowd.
Where was he?
With a sinking heart, I realised he’d chosen this place to make his escape. I searched the celestial, but already his scent was stale.
“Juvela!” It was Sef, with the others not far behind.
I fell to the ground to pound the dirt as my frustration overwhelmed me.
Sef rushed to my side
I spread the flats of my hands on the ground and cried out long and low in grief.
He looked down, not knowing what had happened, but knew it had something to do with Pedro and Maria. He also knew that whatever the clue had been, that I’d lost it. He pleaded, “What can I do?”
I hissed, “Damn them!”
“Cultists?” Sef asked as the others gathered about.
And then it cut through the celestial, “Mama, is that you?”
It was Maria!
I cried out as tears flooded my eyes.
It was her!
Sef asked, “Can you sense her?”
And again it came, stronger this time as she sang out in desperation, “Mama!”
Sef and the others started; even they’d felt it.
I spoke the words and sent the thoughts, “Maria, I’m here! Tell me, are you alright?”
“Mama, where’ve you been?”
And the guilt her thoughts aroused was almost enough to overwhelm me. “I’m so sorry, my darling! Please, tell me where you are!”
“Mama, they moved us. Please come and get us!”
“Do you know where you are?”
“It’s windy, there are windows, but they’re too high for me to see out of. All I can see is the smoky sky. Mama, Papa’s sick!”
And my joy faltered. “Oh Maria, what’s wrong?”
“They’ve been cutting him.”
And my soul went numb. “Can you see him, is he there now?”
“Mama, they steal his blood. They do it every day. They’ve taken him away to bleed him some more.”
“Maria, I have to work out where you are. Do you know? Is there anything more that you can tell me?”
I don’t know, Mama. It’s windy and cold.”
I begged her, “Maria, please, my love, tell me more. Are you sure you can’t see or hear anything else besides the wind and smoke?”
“Sometimes I can hear the city, but the sounds are always faint.”
I lifted my head and looked about. “It’s Maria and she’s close.”
Sef also started looking around. “Where?”
“She doesn’t know. She says she can only see the sky out of the windows and nothing else. She must be high up.”
And at one end of the square, rising up and over it, with a few ramshackle buildings crowded about its base, climbed a tower. It didn’t look mighty like the Turo, but amidst a slum its strong stonewalls made the five level building loom like a fortress. Its three top levels were each marked by small square windows, one set in the midst of each of its four walls.
Sef was looking the same way.
“That must be it!” I cried.
“I guess so,” Sef answered, his words drowning in gloom.
I looked to him in surprise.
He was shaking his head. “We need to be sure. Ask her about the windows, ask her where they are in the wall, how many, and if they’re long, round, or square.”
“Maria, we need to be sure of which building you’re in. Describe the windows; where are they in the wall, and what are their shapes?”
“They’re small squares above even Father’s head. There’s one in each wall, in the middle.”
“Good girl Maria, I think we know where you are!”
“Come soon!”
“As soon as we can.”
I turned my attention back to Sef. “That’s it!”
He sighed in disbelief. “That’s Kurgar’s, the old tower I was telling you about.”
“What?” I howled.
The others just stood there, but I could read their thoughts:
All else in Ossard is corrupt, that’s why we follow Juvela.
Kurgar couldn’t be involved in the kidnappings, could he? It had to be a mistake. If he was involved, then he was linked to the new saints, which meant the Reformers already held two-thirds of the city.
All was lost!
Felmaradis was right; the Inquisitor, the man who’d ordered my death, was the city’s only hope.
As the shock of it all faded, my anger only grew.
All along Kurgar had wanted an alliance with the Reformers and been annoyed by my objections. I’d also been searching all of Ossard for Maria and Pedro except Newbank, where I thought they could never be.
Damn, I was getting angry!
And that fury stirred my power. I could feel the air about me cool and hear it crackle with energy that leaked between worlds. Amidst my rising rage a wave of black sparks rippled out from me to glitter in the dirt.
Sef and the others jumped back, startled.
Baruna said, “Juvela, you’ve great power, but you must control it!”
I just wanted my family back – and to destroy their looming prison brick by brick…
…yet Baruna spoke sense.
I had to stay in control. If I left it to my anger, I’d level the tower in one terrible moment, bringing its bulk crashing down upon the slums. I could wrap my family in a protective bubble and save them, but only after trading their lives for hundreds of others.
I looked to Sef. “I want to get them now. If we leave to come back later they’ll just get moved. They already know we’re here because of the cultist I followed.”
He nodded. “Juvela, I agree, but we must be careful. When we do this we’ll be turning the Guild against us and perhaps all of Newbank – and so much more.”
He was right, and the more he spoke of was his fellow Kavists. If we moved, we’d have no friends left in Newbank and the wider city. We’d no longer have a choice; we’d have to leave.
Baruna said, “Don’t worry, we’ll get your family, but let’s also ready our flight from Ossard.”
I nodded. “Sef, do you know much about the tower? Can we get into it or do we need help? I feel like I can unleash enough power to bring it down, but not handle it carefully enough to do much else.”
He shrugged. “I’ve passed it a hundred times, but never been inside. They left it standing when they dismantled the old wall. I’d expect its layout to be unremarkable, much like the new wall’s towers. Getting in will be the hard part, and then having the strength to overcome whatever force awaits. It can’t be big in numbers, or I’d have heard about such a thing, but if they’re cultists they might also have priests.”
I was still on my knees with my fingers digging into the hard packed dirt. Throughout the conversation I’d sent feelings of warmth and comfort to Maria, feelings she returned.
Sef said, “We can’t stay here like this, it’s drawing attention.”
“We can’t just leave!”
“Do you still have Maria?”
“Yes.”
“And Pedro’s with her?”
“No, they’re… they’re bleeding him.”
Sef winced, but he wasn’t alone. “Can you contact him, I mean, how can we know where he is?”
Some of my determination faded. “No, I can’t, only Maria.” And I could guess what Sef’s next words would be.
“If we go in and get Maria, you’ll lose your only link to Pedro. We need to get them when they’re together.”
He was right; we’d have to wait.
Distant screams and the clash of fighting drifted to us, coming with a growing haze of smoke. It sounded close; the battle for the city had again crossed the river.
“Ossard is chaos,” I whispered.
Sef said, “If the building was owned by any other, I’d just fetch some of my fellows.”
Marco asked, “If the Kavists knew of Kurgar’s part in all this, would they not switch sides?”
“Seig is our senior priest and close to Kurgar. He must know what’s going on. It sickens me to say it, but I think this has his blessing.” He paused before adding, “Perhaps that’s how they knew we were coming when we went to the opera house.”
“Perhaps.”
Sef looked defeated.
I reached up to him with a hand, putting it softly into his.
Poor Sef, my poor Sef, not only did he feel guilty for the stealing away of Maria, his charge, but also for the failure of our rescue attempt.
Something of a smile came to his face at my touch, and I could feel a tingle as power flowed between us. I’d not meant to do anything but comfort him, and I did, but it came as a blessing. “It’ll be alright, Sef.”
The sound of fighting rumbled on, coming from the river and also to the east. All the while the drifting smoke grew thicker.
Marco offered, “Our own people can help; while most can work on readying to leaving the city, someone unknown to the cultists can stay here to watch over the tower before we return in force.”
Someone unknown? Obviously, he didn’t mean Sef or I.
“A good idea,” said Sef.
Marco went on, “In the meantime, as we move against the tower, we can arrange for our people to leave the city and regroup beyond its walls.”
The rising sounds of trouble saw the square begin to empty about us.
Baruna said, “This could be our last day in the city.”
Sef nodded. “We have to think of that; our last chance to pack supplies, seek out carts and drivers, and food and herbals.”
I hated the idea of leaving Maria again, particularly if Pedro was hurt, but they were right. Besides, I couldn’t go in there when they were handling him, they might kill him. Finally, I said, “Alright, but we move tonight.”
They agreed.
I added, “We also know that the Reformers are getting ready for a big ritual, so let’s get as many people out of Ossard as we can. Tell people you trust, but no Reformers.” I looked to Sef. “I’m sorry, but that has to include other Kavists.”
He nodded as his face flushed with shame.
I sent a message of parting to Maria, a sweet and loving goodbye. I promised to return soon, for her and her father, and for her to be brave. Reluctantly, I then lifted my hands from the dirt to break our link.
And straight away I knew it was the wrong thing to do. “Sef, I can’t leave them again! We were so close at the opera house, and now we’re only closer, yet still it can all go so wrong. Perhaps we should just wait for Maria to tell us when Pedro’s back and then go get them?”
Sef held great worry in his eyes. “Juvela, listen to the riots, they worsen and near and so does their flames. We need to go, prepare, and then come back. We can’t wait here. For all we know, Pedro may never return to Maria.”
Sef’s words were hard to accept.
My grandmother whispered, it passing through my mind like a cool winter breeze, “Leave them, Juvela, they’ll keep for another time.”
“Sorry, this is so hard for me.”
Marco said, “I’ll stay and watch the tower. I’ll get a cloak from a stall, and then hunker down amidst the refugees.”
I could trust him. I stepped forward and embraced him, it seeing my magic flare – a blessing. He drew himself back from me to look with wide eyes as his voice sounded, but only in my head, “Juvela, sweet Juvela, I can taste your love for them, for your family. I’ll not fail you. Can you feel me, my heart, mind and spirit?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
Aloud he said, “Go and know I’ll tell you of anything that happens here, otherwise I’ll see you when you return.”
“I’m so grateful. I don’t know how to thank you.”
He smiled, a warm and gentle thing. “For you I’d do anything.”
“Oh Marco, this is no time for reckless sacrifices.”
“But it is; in a dying city, that’s what will make all the difference.”
“Marco, I ask nothing of you.”
“But for Ossard’s Rose, our Lady of Hope, I’m prepared to give everything. Atalia told me that you were true, and now I’ve seen you, yet you’re still to fully awaken.”
We stepped back from each other as I whispered, “I’ve seen your daughter and wife in the next world; they send their love.”
He drew me back into his arms. “A daughter; you bring such hope!” Then he let go.
We got Marco a hooded cloak from a closing stall and left. He came with us before wrapping himself in it, and then turned back. He planned to settle into position in an alleyway opposite the tower’s entrance, huddled amidst a group of refugees.
The rest of us headed back towards our coach. From there we’d go home and prepare for our return to the slums, but also organise for our people’s flight from the city.
The smoke thickened about us. Soon enough we passed a burning building, and not much after, our first body.
The curse of the riots had well and truly returned.
Those left in the open were hurrying through the haze, appearing as nothing but rushing shadows. I hoped Marco would be safe.
Walking in a group, our number became lost in the billowing smoke. Our world was one of dim light, haze, and the flaring flash of flames. I called out, “If we get separated, just head for home.” I kept on while watching the silhouettes about me, all the while hoping that they were my people, but only Sef answered.
Lost in the murk, a huge figure loomed ahead.
Sef cried out, “Cherub!”
The big Flet answered, “Ho Sef, Juvela, the Loyalists are about!”
Sef asked, “In Newbank?”
“Yes, a reprisal for Market Square. They’ve got scores across, all hidden amidst the ferry traffic. They’ve been creating trouble ever since.”
Sounds of fresh fighting came from the river, seeing Cherub’s eyes light up. “I must get on, but be careful!”
We moved on in deepening dread; we both knew we’d lost our fellows.
Sef said, “Kurt should’ve had the sense to take the coach and go.”
I’d have answered him, but I couldn’t. A strong hand had clamped over my mouth, holding a wet and stinking cloth. I tried to scream, to make some kind of sound, but Sef was already stepping away while a figure darted after him.
My mouth filled with a bitter taste, it coming from some kind of herbal brew plastered over the cloth. Given a moment more – a chance for my surprise to fade – and I‘d have unleashed some of my pent-up power.
Instead I passed out.