The Fragile Fall At Tallow Bridge (The White Blood Chronicles Book 1) (23 page)

“ By the One True God, what are these demon spawn?” questioned Thaindire.

“ My underlings,” answered Reznik. “ I doubt you will want to engage them a second time seeing as how you were bested in the first encounter,” he declared. The imps halted their advance and stood in a semi-circle, poised ready to do Reznik’s bidding. Thaindire could see the sharp talons, which had torn at his flesh just days ago and the needle-like teeth sat in their vile mouths.

“ They brought my sword to you?” questioned Thaindire.

“ Yes they did, albeit I was in the forest watching the attack,” commented Reznik.

“ I didn’t even need to join in, which was a disappointment, although I was delighted to lay my hands on another of these swords. Beautiful aren’t they? So magnificently crafted. I wonder if Redway could match the workmanship?” He held the blade he held up, regarding it with an admiring gaze.

“ Where is Gabriel and what did you do to Michael, is that him in the gibbet?” questioned Thaindire alternating his eyes from Reznik to the imps ready to defend himself. He waited for Reznik’s answer, to see if he contradicted Kathryn’s tale about the shape changer.

“ Well, he is no shape changer is he?” said Reznik.

“ What happened to Michael?” demanded Thaindire.

“Ah well brave Michael put up quite a fight I must confess. He tried to arrest Alyssia Thorne on charges of witchcraft and so we fell upon him. We had no choice you understand. Such a pity, I had hoped that he would work with me, but he was single-minded in his purpose, I will grant him that. It was quite the battle on the bridge that afternoon. He slayed quite a number of us, before breaking his sword in the end. Such an impressive swordsman. I was rather surprised by that, his sword breaking, not his swordsmanship, that’s a given with your Order. I didn’t think these blades could be broken. Anyway, he succumbed to our numbers and I ran him through in the end.” Reznik explained dismissively.

“ We placed him in the gibbet in the hope of warning any others who might come from your Order not to be so foolish in their dealings with the village,” explained Reznik.

Thaindire felt the disgust and fury rising through him.

“ You will be damned for your evil actions Reznik,” spat Thaindire.

“ Oh it is far too late for that witch hunter,” grinned Reznik.

“ As for Gabriel. Well, dead in the forest I would presume. He took it upon himself to leave the village and as I am certain you have already been told, nobody leaves Aftlain. He was crafty though as he managed to give us the slip when we pursued him into Centopani but without his sword he would not last long out there. Either slain by the forest’s denizens or starved to death as he wandered round and round lost in the depths of the trees.”

“ So if you are so keen to rid the village of my Order, why not let these godforsaken beasts finish me?” queried Thaindire.

“ Ah well, we would much rather someone from your Order joined the village. Free will is very important to us and it would be a tremendous triumph if we persuaded a witch hunter to cast aside his vows and embrace this village.”

“ So that is why Thorne sought to enchant me in her garden earlier,” exclaimed Thaindire.

“ More than likely, “ agreed Reznik, “ it will bestow a considerable honour on whoever so persuaded you to disavow the Order and become an Aftlainer. It must be persuasion with the ultimate decision being made by you,through either act or word,” he emphasised.

“ And this is your version of persuasion is it? Inviting me here and tormenting me with the deaths of my colleagues whilst parading these hellish creatures before me?”

“ You are learning,” grinned Reznik.

“ And if I reject the Order and remain here, what becomes of me?”

“ You will reside here forever and benefit from all of the bounty that comes to bear in our village. You have barely seen anything of what the village could offer you,” purred the soldier. “ Think on it Master Thaindire, you could work alongside me and wield that long sword for the greater good of Aftlain and its inhabitants.”

“ I would sooner run this blade through my stomach than ally with infernal evil,” spat Thaindire.

“ Now, now Master Thaindire we all know you are not going to do that,” chided Reznik. Thaindire looked towards the door and the two imps nearest. Now he had his blade to hand and they had no element of surprise he was confident that he could dispatch the duo and get the door open. He was fully familiar with the speed of the imps and had little doubt that the others would be on him as he got through the door, but he had a growing confidence that he could tackle them and as for Reznik, he would revel in running through the smarmy soldier.

“ So witch finder, do you wish to join Captain Reznik?” queried the soldier. He smiled and smartly cut the air before him with the long sword.

“ Never,” said Thaindire.

“ Such a pity. Still, there is no rush for your conversion. Believe me when I tell you that you would be best suited alongside me. Two warriors guarding the village, why we would surely rival the brother knights and I should imagine we would be twice as effective. With my underlings at our disposal, nobody would stand in our path.”

“ What are those things?” asked Thaindire jabbing a sword towards the one nearest to the fire.

“ They are imps.”

“ They must have crawled out of the nether world,” observed Thaindire his nose wrinkling as if they smelt as foul as they appeared.

“ No, they were gifted to me for my services in Ardvur and they are indefatigably loyal,” explained the soldier. “ Nobody has overcome them in combat.”

“ They live here with you?”

“ In a sense. They are of the ether and I summon them to me when required.”

“ Yet more devilment in this cursed village,” seethed Thaindire.

“ If you say so,” sighed Reznik. He slid Vindicta’s sword back into the scabbard and hung it back on the wall before picking up his glass once more.

“ Oh you can keep your sword, let’s look on it as a gesture of good will on my part affirming my faith that you will become my lieutenant in the fullness of time. After all, you won't be going anywhere.” Reznik leant over and scooped up the scabbard tossing it to Thaindire, who deftly caught it with his free hand.

“ The only way this sword will be returning to you Reznik is when I drive its crafted metal deep into your wretched bowels,” threatened Thaindire.

“ I admire your courage but you will submit, everyone does,” answered Reznik, dismissing Thaindire’s words and taking a drink.

“ You may go now,” he added with a wave of his hand. The two imps closest to the door, edged backwards and Thaindire cautiously moved towards the door, his sword still raised. The imps watched him glowering, clearly itching to launch themselves at them but Reznik’s command kept them in check. He reached with his left hand and turned the door handle, all the while watching Reznik and his imps.

              The cold air of the world outside crossed over him as he stepped outside and slowly closed the door, Reznik’s grinning sharp-featured face being the last thing that he saw. Thaindire hastened down the steps, cloak billowing out behind him. No wonder he always felt that Reznik was toying with him, it was almost a game to him and the others as to who could convert him first. Well, his faith was strong and he had not succumbed so far and no bolstered by this knowledge from the soldier and the events of the day he knew now, more than ever, that he must return to Lancester and bring a significant detachment of the Order to put Aftlain to the judgement of their holy blades. He must escape the village and do it soon lest they try and heighten their attempts to absorb him into this unholy settlement. Thaindire crossed the square making for the bright light of the tavern and the sound of entertainment from within.

Thaindire hesitated as his hand laid on the handle of the door to the Last One Inn. The raucous activity within was particularly loud as he heard the sounds of song and laughter. He contemplated attending on the stables again at the rear in the hope that he might find that one of the horses had not been securely tethered, although he held out little hope for such success. Instead he stepped away from the door and made to his right. He passed one of the tavern’s windows, which looked into the area behind the bar. Thaindire saw the rows of casks and Dromgoole and his daughter diligently padding backwards and forwards as they served ale to their customers. Moving out of the light from the window, Thaindire carried on walking past the neighbouring building and towards the residence of the cousins. He was pleased to see light bleeding from the window into the square outside and he halted before the door, giving it three firm knocks with his fist. An eddy of wind blew by, cold and crisp, tugging slightly at his cloak. He waited and then knocked again, longer and louder. He heard the noise of two bolts being slid back and then a sturdy sounding lock turned and the door opened. Metylda Meverel stood before him with a slightly bewildered look on her face, which dissipated as she recognised Thaindire.

“ Good evening Master Thaindire,” she greeted him, “ How can I help you?”

“ Good evening Mistress Meverel,” replied Thaindire with a slight tip of his head by way of courteous acknowledgement. “ Pray, is Mistress Priestcote with you?”

“ Oh, I am afraid she is not here at present,” answered Meverel, “ Is it something I can help with?”

“ Pity,” murmured Thaindire, “ No, no, I need to speak to Mistress Priestcote herself. Do you happen to know where I might find her?”

“ No I don’t, she just mentioned that she had an errand to run. She may have gone to the apothecary to purchase some berries for the spiders. You might try there?” suggested the elder cousin. “ Or then again she may have gone to see Ilberd for dye, we are running rather low on Parnian purple at present. Such a delectable colour and proving very popular with the nobility. The good ladies all want dresses made in that colour for the forthcoming festival,” explained Meverel. “ Have you ever considered a tunic in that colour, I am sure it would suit you excellent well,” wittered the seamstress.

“ Er no,” replied Thaindire dismissively. “ when do you think she will return?”

“ I am unsure, sorry to be unhelpful. Might I give her a message?” she asked.

“ Certainly. Please tell her that I attended to see her and if she would be so kind as to find me at my lodgings in the tavern. In the meanwhile, I shall try and find her in the village.”

“ Very well, I shall,” smiled Meverel, “ Good night Master Thaindire.”

“ Good night,” bade Thaindire and Meverel closed the door, replacing the bolts and locking the portal once more. Thaindire looked about him. He was torn between trying to make good his departure to Lancester, even if it was at night but was also intrigued by Priestcote’s behaviour at the bridge where she warned him from speaking out. He needed to know why. He turned on his heel and set off across the cobbles making for the apothecary. As he crossed the square a figure walking with a noticeable gait rounded Reznik’s home.

“ Aha Master Thaindire,” called out the figure. Thaindire halted and was able to make out from the light of Reznik’s lanterns that it was Gregory Talvace, the gravedigger.

“ Are you not coming to slake your thirst at the tavern after all the excitement?” asked the gravedigger.

“ No, I have no appreciable thirst following that debacle,” snorted Thaindire.

“ Suit yourself but I am celebrating as that is one less grave I have to dig, what with her having been taken by the river,” announced Talvace.

“ I would have thought she would have been burned as a witch rather than buried,” remarked Thaindire, his interest raised by this comment.

“ Not a chance when she has been judged by the river. You see the judging waters will have soaked her wretched soul to such an extent that she could never be burnt. Instead she must be committed to the earth. She would have been buried alive,” explained the gravedigger.

“ You would be doing it, would she not be buried in the churchyard?” pressed Thaindire.

“ Oh it would need to be holy ground to keep her in the depths below. Anywhere else and she could use her dark wiles to escape and seek retribution on those who have judged her.”

“ Buried many witches have we?” enquired Thaindire.

“ Three or four, why?”

“ All friends of Priest Campion I will wager,” sneered Thaindire.

“ I don’t know what you mean Master Thaindire,” answered Talvace scratching his head in genuine ignorance.

“ Idiot,” grimaced Thaindire and he walked away from the gravedigger.

“ Aye, night and all,” called Talvace after him. Thaindire marched up the road until he reached the cusp of the bridge and the apothecary. In a determined frame of mind, he walked up the wooden steps and taking the pommel of his newly returned sword, he battered on the door. He leant to one side, peering through the window into the inky darkness of the store beyond. He brought his pommel again on the door and it shuddered under the impact. Thaindire returned to his watch through the window and within a moment a curtain within the shop was drawn back allowing light through and a figure advanced towards the door. Thaindire could tell by the silhouette that it was Thorne and by the grace of her movement.

              The door unlocked and Thorne appeared before him.

“ Yes Master Thaindire, what is it?” she asked in her peculiar rustling voice.

“ I am looking for Mistress Priestcote. I understand she might be here,” explained Thaindire shortly as he became aware of a second figure passing through the curtain. As the moonlight alighted on this second person’s face, Thaindire noted to his displeasure that it was Campion. Before Thorne could answer Thaindire’s question, Campion spoke.

“ Ah, good evening Master Thaindire. I am surprised you are not at the tavern with everyone else celebrating the removal of another threat to the peace of Aftlain. Alyssia and I were just talking about it.”

“ No. I have other business to be about,” answered Thaindire curtly.

“ Oh, why not join us, we have just opened a bottle of delicious wine, Alyssia makes her own,” smiled Campion.

Thaindire had no desire to be subject to the oozing pleasantries of Campion and felt his fingers twitch as he contemplated striking down the corrupt priest this instant. He maintained a check on his anger and answered,

“ Thank you, but no. Is Mistress Priestcote here?”

“ No, she was, but left maybe fifteen minutes ago,” replied Thorne.

“ Are you sure you won’t come and sit by the fire, it would be a delight to have your company, again,” offered Thorne. Her eyes flashed in the moonlight, wide and coaxing and Thaindire felt the pull of her mystical allure. He backed down the steps, breaking her gaze as he explained that he needed to speak with Priestcote.

“ Did she happen to make mention of where she was headed, after she left you?” asked Thaindire.

“ Yes, she was going to call on Master Grimoult,” replied Thorne.

“ I see, good night.”

“ Good night,” responded Campion and Thorne in unison.

Thaindire walked away from the apothecary a slight shudder passed through him as he wondered what the two of them got up to behind the door of the apothecary. Campion certainly spread himself wide amongst the villagers. He paced down the southern side of the village and along the row of stores until he halted by the tanner’s house. The windows were lit and it occurred to him that he might find Coffyn’s parents sympathetic to his enquiries given the, in effect, the wrongful execution of their daughter. He paused wondering whether he ought to intrude on their grief. They must be wracked with pain, knowing that half the village was across the square celebrating their daughter’s demise. He recalled that they had given her up without protestation or fight, which he had found unusual, but then again they did have most of the village at their door, along with the evangelical preaching of Campion, backed by the military muscle of the brother knights, so it was understandable that they offered no resistance. Thaindire thought that they might be able to furnish him with some useful knowledge but be too afraid to act upon it, not daring to stand up to Campion.

              Thaindire knocked on the door and waited. He heard a shuffling noise on the other side of the portal and then it opened. Stood before him was a fellow, slightly shorter than Thaindire. His hair was short and wiry looking, a light brown in colour and he had dark, round eyes which cautiously regarded Thaindire. Thaindire detected no air of melancholy about the man, who folded his arms and waited for him to speak.

“ Good evening,” began Thaindire, “ I am sorry to disturb you on this most terrible of evenings, I am…”

“ I know who you are,” the tanner cut him short.

“ Ah yes well, I wondered if I might speak with you?”

“ Who is it?” called a voice from further within the property.

“ Thaindire,” the tanner called back. He nodded and moved aside to admit Thaindire into the interior. The main room of the tanner’s home was warm and brightly lit by the fire, which was kept on the right hand side of the room. The air hung heavy with the odour of his daily work and Thaindire found it a little unsettling. Sat at a table was the tanner’s wife. She was an evidently older version of her daughter, still possessing the handsome looks, which she had passed on to her offspring. She had a welcoming face, her eyes surprisingly bright and her cheeks flushed.

“ This is my wife, Belinda,” introduced Peyton. She smiled at Thaindire and motioned for him to sit at the table also. Thaindire found himself somewhat taken aback at their dispositions. Neither seemed at all upset, which he found rather odd. He sat at the table, the wooden chair creaking under him, the table scattered with the trappings of the evening meal.

“ Can I offer you a drink?” asked Peyton.

“ No, no thank you,” answered Thaindire.

“ Very well,” Peyton sat down also, “What can we do for you?”

“ Well firstly may I offer my sincere condolences for your dreadful loss,” began Thaindire respectfully.

“ It is no loss of ours,” said Peyton, cutting across Thaindire. Thaindire paused, wrong footed by this comment.

“ Our….she consorted with the Fallen One and became something besides the daughter we loved.” continued Peyton, his wife nodded her assent.

“ No, she was innocent,” Thaindire said slowly.

“ No, you are much mistaken Master Thaindire. You see, we sought Father Campion’s judgement after we found that she was pregnant.”

“ Our daughter never bothered with men, for she was keeping herself for the day she married, “ explained Belinda her hands clasped together.

“ She never had male visitors or spent time with boys or men. There was no way that she could have become pregnant without, well, without some unnatural interference. When we saw the swelling of her belly we feared for what it might amount to and so we asked Father Campion for his advice. He agreed with us and suspected that the dark Fallen Lord was abroad within the village and had sought an unholy union with our daughter.”

“ That’s right,” continued Belinda, “ the foul one sometimes creeps from the forest and seeks to steal away our folk for his pleasure, we are blessed that for the most part Father Campion keeps it away, as his faith is strong and pure. You see, the dark Fallen Lord can only enter the village if invited; it has no other means of entry. Sadly, it had preyed upon our daughter and she has willingly taken to its loins.”

“ To think our Isabel invited in such a demon and into this, our house, while we slept. Only witchery would welcome the foul one. We are fortunate we brought her witchcraft to Father Campion’s attention or we too would be facing judgement in the river,” said Peyton.

“ No, listen to me, she was wholly innocent. She was no witch. It was Priest Campion that placed her with child,” explained Thaindire.

“ May the One True God have mercy on you Master Thaindire!” exclaimed Peyton rising from his seat.

“ Sssh,” exclaimed Belinda looking around as if Campion might appear.

“ You must not speak of the father so.”

Thaindire raised his left hand to quieten their protestations.

“ It is true. I saw the two of them embrace. The gravedigger, Gregory, he confirmed to me that your daughter regularly visited Campion. It was evident from his comments that it was Campion who was engaging in an unholy union with your daughter. She was susceptible to his considerable charm. I know what I saw,” stressed Thaindire.

“ Oh let Him protect us from this evil tongue!” shrieked Belinda as she placed her hands over her ears.

“ What are you Master Thaindire?” challenged Peyton, moving towards Thaindire. “ I fear we have allowed in another demon, one who speaks ill of our good priest. Your wicked tales will find no favour here.”

“ I know she is innocent as I am a witch finder,” continued Thaindire rising from his seat to tower over the smaller man.

“ I belong to the Order which is charged with the hunting down and eradication of witches from Albion. That is why I am in Aftlain and believe me I have seen much witchcraft and devilment abound in this cursed place, but none of it involved your daughter.”