by Mark G Heath
“ Silence,” interrupted the woman. “ Master Grimoult tries to fool me that he has no offspring to lose, but I know to the contrary. Oh yes I do and there are other prices that can be paid. Yet, my master has no quarrel with the alchemist, so far.”
“ I shall attend on Master Grimoult as soon as he has risen and then ensure that my master has what he desires.”
“ It’s no good telling me, I’m not interested,” answered the woman. She sniffed at the air and gave another lop-sided grin.
“ It is the scent of innocent souls that appeals to me and I long to gather those that sleep even now in this house.”
“ You dare touch my children.”
“ And you will do what?” sneered the woman. “ If I come for them, they will leave you and never return.” She looked about the smithy.
“ I think you understand,” she said quietly and turned away and stepped through the doorway into the square beyond. Redway slumped back against a table, shuddering and clutched at his chest, which felt tight and constricted. He looked down at the floor where the Keeper had been stood and saw the pool of water, which had collected there whilst she had been talking to him.
“ I must speak with Ilberd,” Redway said and pushed himself off the table. He took up the hammer once more and made for the doorway, taking care to step over the puddle, which had been left by the Keeper. The day’s light was growing and although it was dull, he was able to see across the square. The Keeper was nowhere to be seen. So long as she was nowhere his home, he cared little for where else she was going. Redway closed the smithy door behind him and locked it before marching towards the alchemist’s house.
“ He’s getting up early today,” said Redway as he walked through the snow, creating his own pattern of boot prints as he walked past the still closed and shuttered stores of the village. He rounded the corner of the carpenter’s and strode along the pathway between the trees and side of the house until he reached the alchemist’s home.
Breath clouding before him, Redway raised a fist and banged firmly on the door. He halted and waited. There came no response from within. Redway looked to the windows, but they were shuttered tight and he could see no telltale firelight creeping through them. Once again he beat upon the door with his fist.
“ Ilberd? Wake up! Wake up!” He continued to batter the door with his fist, the knocking echoing in the house beyond.
“ Damn you Ilberd, I must speak with you,” shouted Redway. Still there came no answer. Redway took a step backwards and surveyed the front of the house. It gave no sign as to wakefulness and he hefted the hammer.
“ Time to rise old man!” he bellowed and swung the hammer at the door. It slammed into the wood, which reverberated under the onslaught but held firm. Again, Redway brought the hammer down against the timber, grunting with exertion, his desperation rising. The door shuddered.
“ Ilberd, open this door!” he yelled and aimed another blow against the door. This time there was a crack and a line appeared running from the handle towards the frame.
Redway pulled back the hammer and brought it towards the door once more just as it was flung open and a startled looking Grimoult appeared in the doorway as the hammer swept through the air, missing the now moved door. Redway could see Ilberd’s underlings crouched around their master, silver eyes peering at him.
“ Ansell, in the name of Perin what’s going on? Do you know the cock still lies sleeping?” asked Grimoult.
“ Forgive me, Ilberd, but I must speak with you,” replied Redway as he pushed past the alchemist and into his home.
“ You’ve broken my door,” protested Grimoult.
“ I’ll will get Audley to make you a new one then, it is no matter.”
“No matter? You come here hammering my door down at this unseemly hour. I have barely begun to dream and I am awoken as if that witch hunter’s order had come for me in one of their raids.”
“ I am sorry, but it is most important that we speak. My children are in danger.”
Grimoult ceased his inspection of the damaged door and closed it. The house was dark save for the firelight from the fireplace where two homunculi now busied themselves stoking the fire into life once more and placing chopped logs upon it as the flames sprung up.
“ You had best come through then,” remarked Grimoult and he ushered the smith into the lounge. Grimoult waved his hand at the balance of his underlings and they slipped away into the shadows, leaving just two of their number to continue to tend to their fire duties. Grimoult ambled over to his usual chair and with a groan dropped into it. Redway remained standing, walking back and forth.
“ What is it?” asked the alchemist.
“ My children are to be taken, most likely this day or the next, I know not for certain.”
“ How so?”
“ The Keeper of the Well stalks the village. She has already taken someone’s child and came to me warning me that my two children were next.”
“ Payment?”
“ Yes. I never thought that our master would exercise that right, they are my children damn it.”
“ He cannot be denied. We all know that.”
“ But surely he will give me time?” pleaded Redway. Grimoult said nothing and instead watched the one homunculi lift a log onto the fire whilst the other prodded the embers with a poker.
“ Ilberd, won’t he?” asked Redway seeking reassurance.
“ I cannot say. You knew the arrangement you struck with him.”
“ Yes, yes, but he doesn’t seem to understand that it is not my fault that the key remains unfashioned.”
“ It can only be made by your hands, nobody else has the dexterity or the knowledge to create it.”
“ True enough, but I cannot fashion a key from empty air. All artisans need materials from which to create their masterpieces and I am no different. Give me several pounds of steel and I will make for you a long sword that is perfectly balanced and will cut any man down where he stands. Or a piece of adamantine and I will make a clasp for your cloak that is unbreakable.”
“ I have no doubt in your ability Ansell. Where have you got to in fashioning the key from the melted metal of the crown?”
“Nowhere, that is my problem.”
“ Nowhere?”
“ Nowhere.”
“ Why? You are more fool than I thought if you have tarried in working the metal into the key.”
“ Ilberd, I can do nothing without the crown nor the Infusion of Melding, which you are meant to have supplied me. You might very well sit there and pour scorn on my delay, but my delay is occasioned by you. I have done nothing as I have been waiting on you to create the Infusion and Father Thomas to bring me the crown.”
“ I fear I can offer you little comfort, Ansell. The infusion has yet to be started.”
“ What? I need it. I need it now.”
“ I do not have it.”
“ Then what have you been doing locked away in here?” shouted Ansell as he waved his arm gesticulating about the house.
“ You’re not the only one who needs my help you know,” retorted Grimoult.
“ In Selne’s name, she will spirit away my children. You can’t understand, your loins died a long time ago. You were never capable of raising children.”
Grimoult turned and glared at the smith. The two homunculi, sensing their master’s rising anger, halted their ministrations at the fire and turned to face the two men.
“ I see you rain down your insults with as much finesse as you rained down your blows on my door.”
“ Well, it is true, you cannot understand, a barren old man like you has no measure of what it is to be a father.”
“ I would urge you to reconsider your words. I chose a different path for my offspring and you would do well to hold your tongue, you ham-fisted oaf,” replied Grimoult as he rose from his seat, leaning on his stick.
“ Oaf is it? Well know this, at least I produce something. Not like your impotent meddling.”
“ Meddling? I see you come here seeking my help yet cannot help but display the arrogance for which you are well known. You made your pact with our master, if you can’t deliver, then you pay the price.”
“ You bastard,” yelled Redway and he launched himself at the alchemist. His two great hands wrapped around the old man’s throat. Grimoult staggered backwards, dropping his stick and clutching at Redway’s grip.
“ Let go, let me go,” gasped Grimoult.
“ Give me the infusion you devious old sod, I know you have it,” growled Redway as he exerted greater pressure, forcing the alchemist down into his chair once more. A sudden scurrying arose as out of the gloom of the rest of the house, the homunculi surged forward at the smith. The two nearest the fire also leapt to their master’s defence. One made for Redway’s left leg as the other darted across the living area and jumped up onto the arm of the chair in which Grimoult sat choking. Redway saw the homunculi making for his leg and kicked out at it. His boot caught it fully and sent it bowling backwards towards the left of the fireplace.
“ Ansell…..please……stop” said Grimoult as his face began to turn crimson.
“ Give me the fucking infusion,” bellowed Redway.
The second homunculi thrust the glowing poker at Redway’s left hand and pressed it against the flesh. There was the sound of singeing and then Redway cried out in pain, jerking his hands away from Grimoult. The smith looked at his burnt hand, a long red weal already formed across it. The alchemist sat and was coughing; fighting for breath as the other homunculi formed a line in front of their master and stood defiant, baring their teeth. The homunculi that had wounded him brandished the poker, ready to strike at Redway again.
“ Tell me where the infusion is or I shall tear this house down in order to find it.”
Redway took a step towards the alchemist and the homunculi matched his movement. Grimoult wiped the tears from his eyes.
“ Keep your distance Ansell or they will pull you limb from limb.”
“ These tiny men do not frighten me, Ilberd, where is the infusion?”
The alchemist adjusted his glasses and rubbed at his throat.
“ There is no infusion. I have all the constituent parts but no white blood. Until, that is supplied I am unable to make the infusion.”
“ You’re lying, I see your little men going about your business in the village. Slipping through cracks and clambering through windows as they bear parcels for you.”
“ That is true, but they are often about acquiring many items for my works, Ansell. It is the white blood that is the most elusive and, may I add the most sought after.”
“ You think you are the only one who faces consequences for failing to deliver? How do you think I got this?” remarked Grimoult holding up his bandaged hand.
“ What’s that?”
“ Thanks to the impatience of our Manfurian guests, I am less a finger. Yes, my punishment for not producing an elixir that Novac demands. I have him ready to punish me further if I do not deliver and yet I cannot, for once more, I am waiting for a fruit grown from white blood, to create that concoction. Until I receive white blood to pass to Alyssia Thorne, so she may grow those berries I can do nothing. Until I receive more white blood, I can make no infusion.”
Redway paused digesting this explanation.
“ Then what effort are you making to acquire the necessary white blood?”
“ Every effort, albeit, I fear I shall have to make a choice between creating the infusion you need or supplying it to Alyssia for her cultivation, if not enough it brought to me.”
An anxious look swept over Redway’s face and he lowered his shoulders.
“ Where will you obtain the white blood from?”
“There is only one source; Thaindire.”
“ Yet he is under the enchantment of Kathryn Dromgoole.”
“ Quite and that is where my efforts are directed.”
“ What might I do to help speed this process?”
Grimoult rubbed his throat again.
“ Much as I know your strength Ansell, I doubt that you could best the witch hunter, certainly with the enchantments of Miss Dromgoole assisting him, your task is likely to be a hopeless one. Leave the requisition of the white blood to me.”
“ I have left the creation of the infusion to you for many moons and look where we are now. My hands about your throat and the Keeper about to abduct my children.”
“ I would suggest your endeavours are better directed at obtaining the crown.”
“ Where is it?”
“ Well, Campion had it. He was badgering me about the elixir you see. It is needed in tandem with the essence that is unleashed from the gems that adorn the crown. At least, this is what Father Thomas has told me. The crown is with Ringthane for him to undertake the extraction.”
“ Ringthane has it now? Why didn’t Father Thomas tell me this?”
“ Who can say? He has been most preoccupied by the arrival of the Manfurians. He is terrified of Novac. Mind, I don’t take kindly to him either,” added Grimoult twisting his wounded hand.
“ Then I must go and see Ringthane.”
“ You must exercise caution Ansell, he is likely to be under the watchful eye of the Manfurians. They are unlikely to wish to leave such a powerful artefact with one who is not of their thinking.”
“ Selne will grant me governance over those night worshippers.”
“ That is not my fight.”
“ I shall secure the crown this day, mark my word, you set about getting the white blood necessary for the infusion and do it fast or my rage will obliterate you and your little men. I will return to learn of your progress.”
Redway scooped up his hammer, causing the homunculi to bristle in readiness, but he made no move towards the alchemist and instead exited the house.
“ Don’t forget about my door,” shouted Ilberd after the departing smith. There was no reply, only the slam of the door.
“ Well Gremory,” said Grimoult turning to the homunculi still balanced on the arm of the chair, poker in tiny hand, “ since we are awake we had best make the most of it. There is much to be done and much to do.” The alchemist stood up and a homunculus passed him his stick.
“ Thank you, Jorne. Now, I need you, Abalam and Eligos to run an errand each for me. Listen most carefully. The three homunculi gathered around their master as he leant downwards and began to issue instructions.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Vindicta opened his eyes. He could smell something being cooked as he raised a hand to his face, still sore from where Campion had struck him. He sat in the makeshift bed and there was a twinge of pain from his heavily bruised chest and shoulder, but all things considered, he was in decent shape. He pressed a hand to his shoulder, feeling the tenderness and then flexed his arm. It moved easily enough, with only a slight ache. Grizel had administered a pair of poultices to his wounds when he had returned with Sanctus and they had certainly had a commendable effect, lessening the pain and drawing out the bruising. Vindicta looked across at the weakened body of his friend and colleague who lay sleeping, utterly drained from his ordeal at the hands of that witch Thorne and the demon priest Campion. When he had rescued Sanctus and brought him to Grizel, the sorcerer had expressed surprise to find Sanctus alive. Vindicta had carried him to the bed, alongside from his and laid him there. Grizel then ushered him away and began administering small drops of some concoction, which caused Sanctus to cough. Grizel reassured him it would help him gain his strength, although it would take time.
Vindicta scratched at his head and swung his legs round, his bare feet touching the cold floor. He stood and found a shirt and trousers, before pulling on his boots. The scent of cooked meat drifted from the kitchen and signified that Grizel was already up and busying himself. Vindicta looked down again at Sanctus and studied the drawn features, the skin tight against bone. Grizel had assured him he would recover. He prayed to the One True God that he would. H
e had dispatched Campion and had unfinished business with the witch Thorne. He intended to arrest her and bring her to justice for her heinous behaviour towards a brother witch hunter. It would not be long before she burned as punishment for her dealing in the dark crafts. Vindicta moved to the window and pulled back the curtain slightly, peeking a glance outside. Grizel had repeatedly warned him about ensuring his presence at his house remained undetected, so he saw that more snow had fallen and a grey, leaden sky prevailed over the village before letting the thick curtain fall back into place.
Vindicta left Santcus deep in his slumber and walked down the short corridor towards the sound of activity in the kitchen. He found Grizel nudging at the food in a large pan.
“ Good morning, Vindicta, I thought the smell of cooking might rouse you from your sleep.”
“ It seems to have done. What are you cooking?”
“ Braan sausage and bacon, eggs and mushrooms.”
“ Excellent, yesterday’s exertions have left me most hungry.”
“ I take it Michael remains asleep?”
“ Yes, should I wake him for breakfast?”
“No, this will be too much for him. The medicine I administered last night and shall again when he awakes, will give him the nourishment he needs.”
“We are blessed by the One True God that he remains with us.”
“ Indeed we are,” replied Grizel as he lifted the pan from his stove and began ushering the cooked meat onto two nearby plates.
“ You have slept longer than usual as well,” continued Grizel.
“ Have I? Why what time is it?”
“ Beyond ten in the morning.”
“ Really? I may have to leave my prayers until later.”
“ Why’s that?” asked Grizel as he spooned the mushrooms and finally the eggs from the second pan. He picked up the two plates and turned to Vindicta.
“ Please, do sit.”
Vindicta obliged, taking his usual seat at Grizel’s large dining table, across from the entrance to his kitchen area. Grizel set the plate down before Vindicta and joined him at the table.
