by Mark G Heath
“ Come on, give it to me, why should a harlot like you have it” pleaded the first.
“ This really is a matter for some seniority,” oozed a voice by Kathryn’s right ear as the final creature landed on her shoulder.
“ Vanish or I crush him,” threatened Kathryn, raising her boot above the prone creature on the step.
“ Crush him, I don’t care,” answered the first.
“ Let’s concentrate on me helping you carry that vial,” added the third.
“ Now, no need for undue haste, we can establish a compromise, of that I am sure,” purred the fourth.
The door opened and the jabbering of the creatures immediately halted. They paused and three of them flew away from the doorway. The figure in the doorway looked past Kathryn and then down at the crumpled form on the doorstep. A hand stretched out from beneath a sleeve, the flesh raised and scarred from burning. The mottled fingers picked up the fallen creature and held it out in front.
“ What have you done here?” asked the figure in a soft, female voice. Kathryn looked down at the ground, unable to bring herself to look upon the half-burnt features of the person stood before her.
“It was trying to steal the white blood,” answered Kathryn.
“ Tut tut,” came the reply. The figure blew through cracked lips and the creature awakened, its wings fluttering frantically as it dangled from the twisted fingers. The fingers parted and it flew off, causing Kathryn to shift to one side.
“ What’s the matter Kathryn, something troubling you?”
“ Why do you do this Antigonia?”
“ When you come here, you look upon your true self, you know that.” Antigonia reached out the burnt hand again and placed her fingers beneath Kathryn’s chin, causing her to raise her head. Kathryn winced as she looked at her double stood in the doorway. The right-hand side of her face was unblemished, her youthful beauty maintained, the glossy black hair tumbling from her scalp. The opposite side was a mask of blistered flesh and raw skin. A dulled eye stared at her, without eyelashes and beneath a brow, which bore no hair. The prominent cheekbone remained evident, but rather than the smooth, pale skin to the right; it was covered by angry, purple-red scar tissue.
“ Want to remember how far the burns go?” asked Antigonia, reaching up as if to uncouple the clasp on her robes.
“No, no. I don’t need a reminder, I can remember well enough,” answered Kathryn quickly and she placed her hand on Antigonia’s to stop her undressing.
“ Very well, we can’t have you forgetting can we?”
“ There is no risk of that, believe me.”
“Good, well you had better come in.”
Kathryn nodded and followed the Simulacrum into the house.
Chapter Six
Antigonia stood to one side and ushered Kathryn into the hallway, before closing the door. The hallway was flagged with polished stone that gleamed in the light that came from the four lanterns that were set upon the walls, for no natural light reached the corridor. As in her previous visits, Kathryn was struck by how clean the house was. The wooden banister rail that led upstairs was polished, the stairs themselves free from dust and dirt. Kathryn waited for Antigonia to walk past and then followed her through a door immediately on the left. They entered a well-furnished drawing room, dominated by various paintings that hung on its walls. Everything in the room was ordered and in place. The ornaments placed on the sideboard were evenly spaced and mirrored one another, the larger ornaments placed on the outside, moving to smaller ones towards the centre of the sideboard. The wall, which faced the window was laden with books, all neatly placed on a number of shelves and Kathryn suspected that if she was ever afforded a closer inspection, the various volumes would all be in numbered or alphabetical order. Antigonia gestured towards a pair of well-made chairs either side of the fireplace and Kathryn sat in the one nearest to the window, adjusting the cushion behind the small of her back. Antigonia lowered herself into the other chair and smoothed her russet dress, a copy of the one which Kathryn wore, albeit hers was coloured a deep blue. Kathryn remained silent and looked into the fire watching the twisting flames. Antigonia turned to a box, set on a table beside her chair. She turned the key that was already in the lock and opened up the lid. The scarred hand picked up a bottle, which was almost round, save for a flat bottom.
“Here you are,” said Antigonia passing the bottle to Kathryn. Kathryn switched her gaze to the bottle and its clear contents. She took it from Antigonia, careful not to touch the burnt fingers and twisted the silver lid off. Tipping the bottle to her mouth, she greedily drank the contents, gulping them down, not stopping for breath. The liquid spilled into her mouth until the bottle was empty. Kathryn lowered it and let out a contented sigh, her tongue licking her wet lips.
“By Selne’s needle, I needed that,” she said sinking back into the chair.
“ I was going to offer you a drink, but I don’t think you need one now.”
“ No, no thank you,” said Kathryn shifting a little uneasily in her chair. Antigonia regarded her with her own blue eyes, the gaze fixed and unwavering.
“ Oh, you will want this,” said Kathryn after a moment’s hesitation.
Kathryn reached into the folds of her cloak and revealed the vial of white blood. She handed it to Antigonia who took it and without regarding it, placed it in the box, shutting the lid and locking it, removing the key.
“ Can I safely assume that more will be forthcoming?”
“You know I have to, if I want to stay like this,” retorted Kathryn gesticulating at her face.
“Just making sure. Well, now that we have traded and your memory remains refreshed as to why you struck your bargain with me, I suppose we can update this,” said Antigonia pointing to her own face. The eyebrow began to grow back and the lashes appeared on the eyelid as the flesh coalesced into a smooth, milky complexion, the savage burns receding until Kathryn looked on her exact double.
“ Thank you,” said Kathryn, relieved to no longer have to look at her injured form.
“ So, you enchanted Master Thaindire?”
“ I did,” said Kathryn, her hesitant countenance shifting into one of smiling pride.
“ My devilkins tell me you kept the poor fellow up most of the night. Come now, that is just plain selfish, we can’t have him expire from exhaustion at the beginning of the extraction.”
“ He belongs to me and I bade him love me, for he is most handsome and the act of love, brings fire to his white blood. You have a vial of premium quality there.”
“ Well I am delighted to hear it. I must admit, I feared we had missed our chance when that fool Reznik let the second one, Vindicta, slip through his fingers.”
“ Reznik is easily distracted by anything shiny,” snorted Kathryn, “ the man is obsessed by lumps of metal. Rattle some coin or wave a glinting sword under his nose and he loses all sense of purpose.”
“Whereas if a man waves his sword in front of you, you lose all sense of reason,” countered Antigonia.
“ Let’s just say that enchantment has its benefits.”
Antigonia smiled and then leant forward.
“ Now, you must supply Grimoult with sufficient white blood for his works, “ instructed Antigonia.
Kathryn twisted her face at the remark.
“ Those works are fundamental,” added Antigonia. Kathryn shrugged.
“ You cannot keep the white blood solely for potions to restore your beauty. We agreed that was a partial use of the white blood, but the larger part must be provided to Grimoult. See to it that it is done, otherwise your new lover might find his appetite somewhat reduced when he looks upon the real Kathryn Dromgoole.”
“ We agreed that I was to supply you with white blood, from which you would continue to deliver to me the potion that I need to maintain my looks, before that accursed fire took them. There was no agreement as to how the balance of my white blood should be used,” responded Kathryn.
“ Remember, I enchanted
the witch hunter, his white blood belongs to me.”
“ If it were not for my potion, you would not have been able to enchant him. But it is no matter, if you wish to renege from our agreement, so be it. That is the last of the potion of restoration I shall pass to you.”
Kathryn frowned and looked to the fire anxiously.
“ No. You need the white blood. I am the sole source of that.”
“ Oh, maybe for a little while, but other witch hunters will come here. They are bound to come to establish what has happened to three that have already fallen foul of the village. Even if the Order of Allsaints decided to cut adrift their brethren, we would find a way of luring more of their kind here. Somebody else would then keep the witch hunter here and our source would be restored.” Antigonia settled back into her chair, as if satisfied with her comment.
“ You have no idea how long that might take and I gain the impression from the fevered attempts to ensnare Thaindire that time is short.” Kathryn looked to Antigonia for a hint of confirmation, but only saw her own image looking blankly back.
“ I am relaxed,” said Antigonia.
Kathryn gripped the arm of the chair with her hand, squeezing the leather in exasperation.
“ Be such a shame for those looks to fade and especially since we have so many pretty girls in the village these days,” said Antigonia. “ Those Halfhand sisters have really blossomed, don’t you agree?”
“ Enough!” snapped Kathryn. Antigonia raised her eyebrows expectedly.
“ Very well, I shall supply you with sufficient white blood for my needs and that of Grimoult. You’ll give me the potion of restoration still?”
Antigonia remained silent for a moment and then spoke.
“ Then our agreement remains intact.”
“ Good.”
“ But do remember that the time will come when you will need to direct Thaindire to carry out more than just supply white blood. He may be under your enchantment, but you are obliged to act in our best interests, Kathryn. We will give you instructions at the appropriate time and you will act on them.”
Kathryn nodded sullenly.
“ I am so pleased we have an understanding, for a moment, I feared that your recent triumph had got the better of you.”
Kathryn sat silent.
“ Where is Thaindire now?” asked Antigonia.
“ Asleep at the inn.”
“ No doubt he needs the rest after his nocturnal exertions.”
“ He needs to maintain his strength, yes.”
“ Very good. Well, I believe that concludes our time today Kathryn. Thank you for bringing the white blood,” said Antigonia rising from her seat. Kathryn followed suit and the two of them left the room returning to the hallway. Antigonia opened the front door and Kathryn stepped outside.
“ Fare well, keep our bargain at the forefront of your thoughts,” said Antigonia and she closed the door. Kathryn adjusted her cloak and stepped down the step onto the gravel path.
“ Tis no bargain,” muttered Kathryn, “ but extortion. She has no understanding of what I had to do to get that enchantment right and if she thinks I am just going to be some milk maid delivering bottles of white blood for Grimoult, well, she can think again.”
She stepped forward onto the lawn.
“ I have my own plans for the white blood which I have acquired,” she continued talking to herself, “ and they don’t involve an old, stooped alchemist, that much is true.”
She walked across the well-kept lawn as the devilkin began swooping around her. They flew in close to speak to her and then darted away having delivered their comment, before returning to rain down another unsavoury sentence.
“ Had enough of you has she? Can’t say I blame her,” cried one.
“ Fare well whore, get back to your whore’s nest,” called another.
“ Yes, clear off you tart,” added the third as they hovered about her head, hurling insults at her as she marched across the grass towards the trees.
“ Remember, don’t play with flames,” chided a devilkin.
“ Oh she is too stupid to remember that.”
“ Strumpet! Harlot!” bellowed another devilkin.
“ Oh do fuck off,” shouted Kathryn over her shoulder as she disappeared into the trees. She left the chiding devilkin behind, their incessant insults drifting across the air. Kathryn needed to collect more of the precious white blood whilst Thaindire slept and as she did so, she would continue in her formulation of her plans for her and the witch hunter. She had surprised many in the village by enchanting Thaindire. She would surprise them all with what she intended to do next.
Chapter Seven
Sir Simon and Sir Joshua Pennant rode side by side up the incline towards the church. They wore no armour on this occasion, denoting that their business was more akin to diplomacy than the flexing of their authority. Their pace was unhurried yet they closed on the figure of Gregory Talvace ahead of them as he laboured on the slope, pushing his cart before him. His head was lowered as he watched where he placed his feet on the earthen track, shoving hard as he drove the cart towards the church. Sir Simon drew along side the gravedigger causing the bald man to look up at the knight.
“ Ah good morning to you, Sir Simon,” announced Talvace slightly out of breath. He then looked over his right shoulder. “ And to you Sir Joshua.”
“ Good morning Gregory and how do you fare on this chill morn?” asked the leading knight.
“ Most well, thank you for your kind enquiry,” replied Gregory, not reducing his own speed,
“ How do you sirs fare?”
“ Excellent well,” said Sir Simon.
“Yes excellent well,” echoed Sir Joshua.
“ Which unfortunate do you carry?” asked Sir Joshua pointing a gloved hand towards the burden on Talvace’s cart.
“ Miss Coffyn, may the One True God guide her lost soul.”
“ May he do so indeed. A troubled and tormented girl,” commented Sir Joshua.
“ Does she lie dead and the foulness purged from her?” asked Sir Simon, moving his hand to the hilt of his sword as if expecting the corpse to leap from the cart and assault him.
“Yes Sir Simon, the deep waters of the Centopani have done their cleansing. Though it was not meant for her to be carried by the waters forever, for she was washed up by the mill,” explained Talvace. “ Master Hugh sent for me when he found her.”
“ To think that she accused Father Thomas of causing her to be with child,” remarked Sir Joshua.
“ Scandalous,” remarked Sir Simon, “ I ought to have torn her vile tongue from her mouth.”
“ The tongue of those tempted by darkness, will often speak ill of those who walk the path of light,” commented Sir Joshua, “ I have heard such lies spoken many times by witches and warlocks. They are unable to speak of truth. The darkness rots their minds, you see. Once the unholy seed has been planted within a susceptible mind, its tendrils grow and envelop the desperate unfortunate, so they know not who they are any more. Instead, they become filled with foulness and can only apply themselves to spreading repugnance.”
“ I fear to think what slanders she would have spread had she not been brought to our attention by her fair parents. Her odious works would have had a dreadful effect upon Aftlain,” said Sir Simon.
“ Yes, dark words and darker deeds no doubt brother. It is dreadful that such loathsome ideals can manifest in one so young,” answered Sir Joshua.
“ Say, Gregory, you are not going to bury her are you?” asked Sir Simon.
“ No sir, Father Campion will not allow that, as you know. Those tainted with foulness cannot be afforded burial in the bosom of the One True God. She is to be burned.”
“ Quite right, the body of a cleansed witch would fetch quite a price with those who walk a dark path. I hear tell that a blackened heart, once purged, takes on an altogether different appearance and is much sought after by those who would include it as a foundation for unholy wo
rks. We are blessed that good Hugh Maunsell found her and not some fiend,” said Sir Simon.
“ I agree. He is a fine fellow,” affirmed Sir Joshua.
“ I am sure that is at the forefront of the father’s mind, keeping her from those that practise dark crafts,” said Talvace.
“ Speaking of him, is Thomas at the church, we have need to speak with him?” asked Sir Joshua.
“ I have not seen him but I understand that he is there,” replied the gravedigger, “ what need do you have of him?”
“ Church business, Gregory,” said Sir Simon knowingly.
“ Ah I see, begging your pardon for enquiring,” said Gregory making to tug at an imaginary forelock in a display of obedience.
“ It is of no matter, well if you will excuse us Gregory,” said Sir Simon, “ but we must make ourselves known to Father Campion.” Sir Simon moved forward, away from Gregory and his cart.
“ Yes, good morn to you both,” said Gregory.
“ Make sure you burn that foul abomination thoroughly,” added Sir Joshua as he levelled with Talvace leaning down from his mounted position to issue his instruction to the gravedigger.
“ Oh I shall make sure of that Sir Joshua, a good inferno, yes, red-hot.”
“ Good man,” replied Sir Joshua and he dug his heels into the flanks of his horse, causing it to trot forward. The two knights moved ahead of Talvace, the breath of their steeds and their own, clouding.
“ A hand would not have gone amiss,” muttered Talvace as he watched the retreating backs of the brothers and with a grunt he continued trundling the cart onwards to the church.
The Brother Knights reached the church gate and alighted from their steeds, tying the reins to the post positioned for that purpose. Sir Simon adjusted his cloak out behind him and walked through the gate, followed by his brother. They walked along the path, past the headstones marking the numerous graves in the churchyard and up the steps to the church door. Sir Joshua unclipped his mace and brought the pommel down on the thick timber three times, the thud echoing into the church beyond. The sound of a key turning in a lock came presently and the door opened to reveal a smiling Campion.
