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

by Mark G Heath

  His gaze travelled back across the square, which was cobbled, something rather unusual for a settlement so small as this village. It was far from a hamlet but such cladding was usually the preserve of the towns. Slightly off centre was a stone well. The circular walls rose from the cobbled ground and a wooden frame sat atop the walls providing the winching mechanism for a large bucket which hung just below the cylinder on which the thick rope lay coiled. A group of children played near to the well, casting stones across the cobbles and hopping and their intermittent laughter drifted up to Thaindire. He was moved to want to sketch the layout of the square and the surrounding buildings for his later use and the guidance of his companions and wondered where he might obtain ink and vellum to do so. Again, another question for Kathryn. An aching began in his back, even sitting for a period was testing his body and he began to shuffle back so he could lie down when he heard the tolling of a bell. He halted in his movement and listened to the dull ringing which emanated from somewhere to his right. Perhaps that was where the other road led to, the village church. He counted to eleven and realised he had indeed slept for sometime, an all too willing victim for the sleeping draught which had been administered to him without his prior knowledge.

  Carefully Thaindire adopted a supine position, twisting slightly to his left to try and alleviate the pressure on his back and shoulder. So, he had at least seen more of the village now. It was not untoward, a collection of solid looking timber dwellings, some made of stone and timber, stores and a smithy. The existence of the tower intrigued him as this would denote the existence of some kind of authority and so far he had encountered none. True he had been at the village possibly only a day but if there was a village elder or leader he imagined that they would have made themselves known to a newly arrived stranger. Thaindire mulled over these thoughts, he wondered whether he was being made well again before an audience with whoever presided over this village. Kathryn had stated quite openly to not wanting him to run away, but he was no doubt reading more into that and she was merely referring to her own less than subtle intentions towards him.

  The thought of the young woman caused him to pull a blanket about him lest she re-appear and treat herself to a lingering look at his naked form. He would have to check how much money she had taken to pay for the herbal remedies and there was also the cost of the repair of his cloak at the seamstress. He found it strange how she had taken it upon herself to attend to that so promptly when it was evident that he would be bed bound for a while yet and not in need of it. He wondered if the seamstress would have the correct colour of material to match what remained of his cloak? He doubted it, for the cloak was fashioned from a very distinct azure and he could not imagine that an outpost such as this would have the requisite dyes available.

  They had each been presented with their cloak on their admission to the Order. He recalled receiving his plain azure cloak when he became a Steadholder Constable. Now, having progressed to the rank of Steadholder, his cloak had the addition of midnight blue flames along the base of the cloak. Should this expedition progress well, a promotion to Steadholder Ensign, might be achieved, bringing the addition of those midnight blue flames to the neck of his cloak. Those who knew the colour and design soon became aware who the wearer was. It was clear its import meant nothing to Kathryn or her father as neither had commented upon it and he expected someone as nosy as the woman to do so if she was aware of its significance. Even if the cloak was repaired it would show and no doubt he would face some shame on his return, to the Order with a damaged cloak, whenever that might be. He cast aside any thoughts of how he might return to Lancester as his focus was on investigating Aftlain. When his mobility returned he would explore the northwestern section of the village, the part he could not see from his window and determine where the other road led. He needed to ascertain the boundaries of the village and confirm that the dense Forest of Centopani did indeed embrace this settlement on all sides and allowed no passage or if that was a falsehood, what lay beyond this village, for no map he had set eyes on had provided that enlightenment. All of this needed to be committed to parchment for the preservation of evidence and the key inhabitants duly indicated on his map. The tower was a must and he would seek to reach that as he mapped the southern edge of Aftlain, for it appeared there would be a number of lanes on that side of the village. He queried whether the northern side, behind the tavern was similar. Certainly the eastern and western perimeters only appeared to have a single row of buildings and in fact the eastern part was sparsely inhabited. The house, which stood on its own, intrigued him. He also needed to attend upon the apothecary. This Thorne woman was not a physician by study but instead some kind of herbalist who sourced her own ingredients through an untrained method. Quite possibly seeking the guidance of darkness to achieve her aims. She stood out more than anything else so far as worthy of his attention. It was evident that Kathryn, being a lifetime inhabitant of the village would know every one who resided here but too many questions about people rather than buildings would not sit with his role as a cartographer so some selectiveness was required.

  He felt a ball of frustration well up inside of him as he was moved to begin his scouting forthwith but his broken frame would not afford him such a prompt start. No, he would ask some things of Kathryn, the tower was a fair query, for it was remarkable and perhaps he would enquire as where to find ink and parchment, but he would have to wait before he could unravel the lanes of Aftlain and its corresponding structures.

  The rhythmic clang of the smith’s hammer on whatever instrument he was creating was strident above the general murmur of village life. Thandire wondered if the smith was a weaponsmith or whether his skills were confined to farming implements and so forth. He would do well to arm himself, having lost both his sword and dagger and he wondered what had become of them. Possibly those savage imps had snatched them, trophies of their interrupted assault or what if they had made good a hasty retreat on Dromgoole’s appearance and it was the landlord who had happened upon the weapons? His long sword was expensive. The steel expertly forged and lined along the twin blade with adamantine. The cross guard was fashioned as if two wings were protecting the hilt that itself had been shaped to accommodate Thaindire’s own distinct grip thus rendering the blade uncomfortable and hopefully unusable by anyone else. Set in the pommel was a large sapphire, anointed and blessed and again of their sponsoring colour. Each day he would sharpen the adamantine edge and use a special cloth to shine the gemstone. Many an enemy had halted, momentarily when he had drawn the spectacular long sword, the twin metals glinting in sun or lantern light and the sapphire flashing as if ablaze with holy fire. He doubted that Dronmgoole could read the inscription borne along the blade if indeed it was he who now possessed the weapon. The sword was lighter than a conventional long sword of comparable size which invariably enabled Thaindire to land one possibly two blows on his opponent before they had even had chance to strike. Admittedly those opponents usually wielded swords or maces themselves rather than assailing him with tooth and claw. Those blasted imps had no apprehension when he had exposed his blade. They acted with a single-minded purpose, his death. It was the first time since the attack that his mind had been clear enough to try and comprehend what had happened. The speed of their assault was like nothing he had ever witnessed and it pricked his pride that he was on the back foot from the beginning of the melee. He tried to assuage some of his discomfort by telling himself that he was ambushed and two, at least, had come at him from behind. He tried to remember how many he had seen, more than a half dozen at least. Vile, ungodly creatures and in keeping with the rumours that circulated describing this village. He wondered where they had emanated from. For certain they had sprung at him from the cloak of the forest, save the initial beast which had stood defiant in the centre of the road, causing him to neglect his own surrounds as he focussed on establishing what it was that he had encountered. Dromgoole had commented that he had found Thandire about two miles from the
village so whatever they were, they must know of the village’s existence. It was odd though that his attackers had been firmly ascribed to wolves and not anything more sinister. That had cautioned him against confessing to what had actually happened on the road. He firstly had no desire to panic the villagers lest they be innocent of the whisperings and secondly such talk could turn his rescuer against him and in his weakened condition he did not want to be turfed out onto the road, without horse and supplies and a very long trek back to Lancester. No, it suited him to keep his own counsel about the imps but they would undoubtedly headline his report once he made it in due course. Thaindire closed his eyes, stifling a yawn as a tide of tiredness rolled over him. He stretched and wriggled trying to find comfort, the sound of the village in the background providing a pleasant hum, his own breathing settling into the same rhythm as the workings of the smith and gradually sleep once again conquered him.

  Chapter Four

  A tender hand gently shook Thaindire awake. He blinked twice and awoke to see Kathryn leaning over him smiling. Her scent filled the room, almost over powering in its potency.

  “ I’ve brought you some lunch,” she said and pointed towards the tray, which bore sustenance for him.

  “ Thank you,” he replied. Awkwardly, he managed to sit up in the bed watching as Kathryn moved across to look out of the window. She regarded the scene below without comment before turning back to look directly at him.

  “ How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “ Improving, yes improving,”

  “ I heard you shuffling about earlier,” she commented. Thaindire raised his eyebrows quizzically at her observation.

  “ My room is beneath this one,” she added by way of explanation and he nodded.

  “ You mustn’t do too much you know, it will hinder the healing,” she cautioned.

  “ I will keep that in mind,” he responded. Kathryn walked back around to him and sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing out her dress, as she looked him up and down.

  “ So, you managed a look out of your window then eh?”

  Thaindire nodded again. “ I was curious to see what the village looked like, obviously I did not see much when I arrived here.”

  “ Yes, you get quite a good view from up here. I often like to sit at my window with the sun on me as I watch the comings and goings outside and especially when an exciting stranger comes to visit,” she added with a playful smile and tapped him on the arm.

  “ Oh there is nothing exciting about me I am afraid,” countered Thaindire. He paused and then shifted the topic of the conversation away from himself.

  “ I could see that the forest fair surrounds the village and is most dense.”

  “ Oh absolutely. That’s why the road ends here. You can’t go anywhere else from the village. The trees are too close together and besides who knows what lurks amongst them. You won’t find me wandering far from the village, especially with winter on the way.”

  “ But the road doesn’t end here does it?” queried Thaindire, “ It carries on, I’ve seen it leading from the western side of the village,” he pointed in the general direction of the road by way of emphasis.

  “ No, that just leads to the church and that’s it. The church is set apart slightly from the main part of the village. Just like the One True God is set apart from man,” explained Kathryn.

  “ I see. Is that the church I can just see the top of then, directly across from us?” asked Thaindire, gesticulating towards the conical rooftop which he had seen earlier.

  “ No, no, the church is over there,” answered Kathryn, her arm indicating to the west and to Thaindire's right.

  “ So what’s that in the forest to the south then?” he pressed.

  “ Where?” Kathryn rose again and returned to the window.

  “ You see the dwellings opposite?” he checked she was following him. She nodded.

  “ Well, if you let your gaze rise towards the sky, over the roofs of the houses.” Again she nodded peering out through the glass. “ In amongst the trees, more or less central to where you stand now, there is a roof. It must be atop some kind of tower, “ Thaindire explained. He could see the young woman frown as she kept looking.

  “ There is nothing over there, just trees and more trees,” came the negative reply.

  “ No, you mustn’t be looking in the right place,” asserted Thaindire.

  She turned away from the window and looked down at him.

  “ I have lived all my life in this village and other than the houses and the lanes opposite there is nothing beyond them. There is no tower, nor has there ever been one.”

  “ You’re wrong, I saw it this morning. In amongst the branches, here let me show you,” he was about to fling back the blankets and shuffle around to where she stood but remembered his nakedness and paused.

  “ No, don’t move, there’s no need. You must have just seen a tangle of branches or something, there is nothing over there, believe me,” Kathryn responded firmly, her full lips pursed together as she finished her sentence as if she was daring Thaindire to contradict her. Thaindire’s mouth gaped as he struggled to think of what to say. He was sure that he had seen a roof, yet she was absolute in her denial and she had resided in Aftlain all her life so surely she would know. Besides, she would hardly countenance denying the existence of something, which was plain to see. Perhaps he had been mistaken after all.

  An uneasy silence settled in the room and Thaindire reached to pick up the round loaf of bread from the platter. He tore a piece from it and placed the chunk in his mouth, savouring the taste. This was better fare than he was used to.

  “ Did you bake this?” he asked before popping another piece in his mouth.

  “ Oh no. I can bake of course, but we get our bread from Lovell. He is a master baker. He can do magical things with dough,” she laughed, “ I do love a skilled pair of hands. I look forward to seeing yours at work,” she added with an arched eyebrow.