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

by Mark G Heath

  “ Ah, that reminds me,” commented Thaindire brushing aside her innuendo-laden remark, “ I lost all my trappings in the forest. They were on my horse. I need pen, ink and some vellum or parchment to undertake my work here. Would you be able to find me some please?”

  “ Of course. I should imagine that Ilberd would have some. He lives just opposite from the tavern. I will see if he is answering his door this afternoon for you. How much do you need?” she asked.

  “ Oh, a few sharp quills made from goose feathers please, not crow. A pot of pine ink will be best and say four pieces of parchment to begin with,” prescribed Thaindire.

  “ I daresay he will have all of those things, he has allsorts in that house,” answered Kathryn.

  “ I called on Metylda earlier to see how she is faring with the mending of your cloak. She told me it should be completed tomorrow.”

  “ Tomorrow?” repeated Thaindire. “ That is swift,” He doubted the workmanship would be particularly fine if it had been completed so quickly and most certainly it would not be up to the original standard.

  “ Yes, Metylda and Melissent must have the swiftest fingers in the kingdom you know. I tell you, if you try and watch them work you become dizzy, their fingers are a blur of activity. They are truly blessed to be able to work cloth the way that they do,” purred Kathryn in praise.

  “ Metylda did say that she wanted you to come and collect the cloak in person so they can be sure that they have the length correct. I did tell them how tall I believe you to be and they worked from that, but perfectionists that they are they want your final approval.”

  Thaindire nodded and was about to ask a further question when the door swung open and Benjamin Dromgoole made his entrance. His brow was layered with sweat and he pulled a rag from the belt about his ample girth and dabbed at the sheen.

  “ I thought I would see how you are faring and to save you from the gibberish that she talks,” he grunted jutting his jaw at his daughter.

  “ I am steadily improving thank you landlord,” answered Thaindire as Kathryn placed her hands on her slender hips in mock outrage at her father’s insult.

  “ Good, good. There is no rush for your recovery we encourage visitors to stay. We’ll soon have you on your feet again and doing your mapmaking.”

  “ Samael needs writing materials to do that, so I am going to get some from Ilberd,” explained Kathryn.

  Dromgoole gave a grunt.

  “ Good luck with that,” he snorted, “ his door rarely opens as it is.”

  “ He will open it for me,” retorted Kathryn twirling a locket of hair about her finger.

  “ Aye well I’ve not known any man not let you in my girl, that’s my worry.”

  “ I don’t want to cause any trouble if Ilberd is difficult to deal with,” interjected Thaindire.

  “ Oh, he is just reclusive not difficult,” affirmed Dromgoole returning the rag to his belt and running his hands across his apron.

  “ Still, he does me no harm so I wish him none.”

  “ I was able to reach the window earlier and look out on the village,” continued Thaindire, “ I noticed there is some kind of tower in the forest to the south.”

  Kathryn shot him a pained look at his raising of the tower a second time.

  “ There’s no tower out there sir,” reassured Dromgoole.

  “ I am sure I saw a coned roof, amidst the tree tops,” pressed Thaindire.

  “ No you are mistaken. Other than the church, the entire village is in one place, around this square. Nobody would live out in the forest, it is too dangerous.”

  “ Dangerous?” queried Thaindire.

  “ Aye, you know, such as those beasts which attacked you,” responded Dromgoole.

  “ The wolves?”

  “ Aye the wolves,” affirmed Dromgoole, “ and heaven knows what else that lurks amongst the darkness of the wood. I have heard some strange and eerie sounds floating from the depths of the forest in my time. No, give me the warmth of the hearth and the flow of the ale over what lies out there. The world beyond does not belong.”

  “ I see,” retreated Thaindire, “ I must have been mistaken. Maybe the blow to my head is affecting my vision.”

  “ Maybe,” said Dromgoole.

  “ I will need to apply the compress to that later this afternoon, to relieve the swelling,” explained Kathryn patting the back of her own head.

  “ Right, I have barrels to change. Come on you; leave Master Thaindire to eat his meal in peace, “ ordered Dromgoole. He turned and lumbered out of the room, his daughter following.

  “ I shall see you anon,” she remarked before gliding through the doorway and closing the door behind her.

  Thaindire consumed his lunch and spent the afternoon resting with his only interruptions being the arrival of Kathryn to apply a cold compress to his head, the icy mass providing him with a sweeping sensation of relief and then later Kathryn again when she brought him an evening meal and a flagon of wine. They spoke little for he felt dizzy as the compress was applied and he was more or less face down as she administered it, thus his positioning not lending itself to conversation. Kathryn had confirmed that she had attended on Ilberd’s dwelling but he had not answered so she was without writing material although she assured him that she would try again the following day. When he was left alone he had the urge to make his way around to the window again to try and find the conical rooftop as he was torn between what he believed he had seen and the categorical denials of the Dromgooles. Unfortunately, each time he tried to sit up he was overwhelmed by a light-headedness, which forced him back to his pillow and thus thwarted his attempt at further observation. Accordingly, the sun made its way across the southern half of the sky, the rays shifting their golden hues across his room until dusk came and Kathryn appeared to light the candles on the mantelpiece. As ever her entrance into the room was trumpeted by the burst of scent, which he was now finding intoxicating, the heady vapours almost overwhelming. Her every movement about the room released another torrent of perfume. He cautioned himself against breathing too deeply of the scent, wary that the landlord’s daughter was trying to lessen his resistance and enchant him. He had known attractive and even unattractive women; attempt this against his will in the past. He had to remain strong and free from her wiles. It was clear to him that she was seeking to use a forbidden craft to have him do her bidding. Notwithstanding her nursing of him, this was surely a ruse, an attempt to ensnare him. She would face judgement for her attempted corruption of him. Despite his vigilance and resolve, on her final appearance of the day, to clear away his dinner platter, he found himself overtaken by the scent and drifting into sleep, no matter how much he tried to fight against it. The perfume had a most settling effect on him, cosseting him and causing him to relax and sleep. Her tendrils were coiling about the witch hunter.

  Chapter Five

  Thaindire woke with a start. His eyes opened immediately. At first all he saw was darkness until his eyes adjusted and the room was lit by strong moonlight. The white light caused everything in the room to glow, its silvery caress a marked contrast to the gold of the sun and the warm yellows of the candlelight that he was used to. He did not know what had caused him to start and he lay still listening for any kind of sign as to what had awoken him, but there came nothing but silence. There was no general hubbub of revelry from the tavern below and he realised that it was clearly late at night. Nothing stirred and he lay savouring the silence for a few moments. He closed his eyes in the expectation of sleep returning but he felt wide-awake. He was minded to ascertain what lay beyond the door and within the tavern but the prospect of creeping about the inn did not appeal and instead he made his way again to the window.

  The square was still. The moonlight drenched the scene before him, illuminating it with sufficient clarity that he could make out the features on the dwellings across the square from him, the bucketed well and the gleaming cobblestones. He was uncertain what time of night it was but
reckoned that it must be beyond midnight. There was no breeze, the thinning treetops were unmoving and high above him in the dark canopy of sky a swirling array of stars glittered and gleamed, outshone by the round, full moon, which sat, bloated above. Thaindire pressed his ear to the pane of glass, it was cool against him and he wondered if a frost would soon be forming as the blanket of cold spread over the land. He heard the call of some night bird from far off and then the response from some other nocturnal creature but the village of Aftlain lay quiet, its denizens no doubt sleeping by the score. Thaindire looked left and right hoping almost to catch a glimpse of night time activity that was in keeping with the village’s reputation but nothing moved, no person, no animal, nothing.

  He moved his gaze to the properties across from him and observed the moonlight reflecting off those houses that had tiled roofs, others having the more traditional thatch. The gleaming white light adorned the brickwork of chimneys and the slivers of slate. Upwards continued his gaze until the skyline of houses ended and instead he looked upon the illuminated branches and leaves of the forest. Although still and peaceful, the highlighting of the tangle of branches and jutting twigs gave the forest a more barbed appearance as if one would be cut by merely standing close to the trees. He could see that Dromgoole was right; there was no welcome in that forest for man. Thaindire continued to look and he let out a short gasp of surprise and recognition. Amidst the trees he could plainly see the glimmer of the moonlight on slates. There was a roof out there. The light of the moon acted to accentuate the feature more readily than in the day and he could now see more plainly the cone that emerged from the canopy of branches. It might only be a few feet that was exposed beyond the trees but exposed it was. He peered forward wondering if any light might emanate from beneath the coned roof but all he saw was the black of the forest. He was right and moreover the Dromgooles had lied to him about the lack of such a tower. There was no opportunity for error on their part, both being beholden to the village for as long as they had would mean they would know of a building nearby, but for whatever reason they had chosen to deny its existence. Thaindire could fathom no reason for their lies other than that the tower was not to be brought to the knowledge of outsiders. He found this stance most odd. The tower was far from obvious and indeed had been so indistinct in daylight that he had begun to think that he was mistaken in the face of the firm rejection by Benjamin and Kathryn, but nighttime brought a different perspective and there it was. He realised there was little sense in reporting this sighting to Kathryn or her father; they had made their position clear. What it did mean however was that Thaindire had to locate this tower and ascertain its purpose and effect. His heart beat quickened with the prospect of investigating the tower and he wished he had a companion to share and affirm his sighting. Thaindire’s mind filled with a multitude of questions about the tower and its significance and just as he sought to reason them, something else caught his attention.

  Back in the village, down at ground level and slightly to the left of centre, across from him, an orange light blossomed. Against the darkness of the buildings, the blooming light was a beacon. He could see that the light was a sliver in an opening doorway, the warm light bleeding out into the night. The strength of the light denoted it was probably firelight. A figure then manifested, silhouetted in the firelight. It was barely a quarter of the door’s height so that much light still blazed above it. The figure stepped forward and down a couple of steps as the door slowly closed behind it. Whoever had closed the door had not peered around it nor bid the departing figure farewell. Thaindire’s eyes adjusted as the orange light vanished, the darkness sweeping in and momentarily cloaking the tiny figure before then the silver of the moonlight graced the form. It moved carefully and with purpose along a short path from the house that it had emerged from, for this property was set back from the square slightly and did not open out onto the front of the square like those adjoining the dwelling. The figure stepped onto the square and was now in the clear glow of the moon, as if lit by a lantern and Thaindire was afforded a full and proper view of this late night pedestrian.

  It was tiny. Two or three hands high. Immediately Thaindire thought of the imps; they were similarly short in stature, was this one of them? The figure was clad in clothing, but no uniform. Instead it wore low cut boots, trousers and a top, which was short-sleeved, unusual given the cold of the night. There was no hat, nor buttoned tunic, which accorded with the uniform worn by the infernal imps that had impeded his progress yesterday. Of course it could have a change of attire but Thaindire dispensed with this thought as soon as it arrived as he regarded the figure’s features. It had the face of a man. No lopsided snarling mouth, snub nose or cruel eyes, but rather the gentle face of an elderly man. It was bald, the forehead wrinkled. Slim arms protruded from the top with a pair of tiny, delicate hands swinging side by side as it made its way across the square. Thaindire watched transfixed as the figure walked to the well and with surprising strength made a standing jump of at least twice its height onto the wall of the well. The figure halted and with hands on hips it leant over the edge of the well, peering into its depths. Thaindire could now see a belt around the waist and a couple of implements, both looking like hooks, hung from the belt. Another hoot echoed from the forest but this did not interrupt the figure, which continued to examine the interior of the well. After a short time, it stood up, turned and hopped back down onto the square. Thandire expected it to turn about face and return to the house from which it had ventured, but it did not. Instead, the figure continued its purposeful walk across the square, making for the inn. He could not tear his gaze away from this figure for as it gained on the tavern, he could make out the dimpled chin, the prominent cheekbones and large ears of the creature. It was of human form yet so, so tiny. He had come across dwarf humans on his travels but this was not one of them. It was too small, too slender and lacked the disproportionate head of those who were true dwarfs. Thaindire stifled a cry as the figure looked up and stared directly at him. It kept walking but was most definitely looking up at him. Its placid expression did not change but the silver eyes most certainly fixed on him. He shrank back from the window, even though it was too late to evade detection. He paused a moment and then leaned forward to look outside again. The figure was gone.

  Thaindire held his breath, straining his hearing to ascertain whether there was any sound of entry or movement below. All he heard was silence. Perhaps the figure had veered off to another building or even beyond this one? He carefully moved himself back round, as quietly as he could manage so that he was sat facing the door. Would the figure know which room he was in? Was his the only one at the top of the tavern? He did not know. He waited, staring intently at the door waiting for it to open but then he realised the figure was too small to reach the handle and the door was well constructed, without gaps that would enable a slight figure such as it to squeeze through. No, this tiny man was not going to enter his room this night, indeed it may not have even been able to make its way into the tavern as no doubt the front tavern door was locked and of similar dimensions which would defeat this diminutive creature from gaining admittance.

  Realising that he was not going to be disturbed, Thaindire returned to the window to maintain his watch for the tiny man. His gaze switched between immediately below his window to the house from which his figure had emerged. Time passed, maybe fifteen minutes, possibly longer and then the figure came back into view directly below. It walked with the same determined stride and certainly looked as if it had come from out of the tavern. Thaindire noticed that it carried a small package under its right arm. The package was wrapped in cloth concealing its true nature. Beneath the moonlight the small figure made its way across the silent square, past the stone of the well and back across to the house. As it neared the pathway to the dwelling the orange light once again flared as the door opened. Someone was watching the figure too from the house, ready to grant it admission. The tiny man walked down the path, past the
adjoining bushes, up the steps and straight into the house. The door closed promptly, by unseen hand, behind him and then the tiny figure was gone.

  Thaindire remained at the window leaning back to alleviate some discomfort in his back. He stared at the house looking for other signs of movement but none arose. He saw no further lights, no glint of light from behind the shuttered windows, no re-opening of the door. It remained shrouded in darkness, swallowing up its mysterious inhabitant. What in the One True God’s name was that? It was to all intents a human but of such tiny and perfect form to not be human. It clearly wasn’t a child. The features were too aged and wizened to be an infant. Had it entered the tavern and what had it taken? Had someone been waiting at this end to allow the figure to gain entrance and hand it the package or had it found its own way in and pilfered the item? Could he raise this with Kathryn? This was far odder than the existence of a tower and if she denied what was now plain to see, how likely was it that she would entertain the appearance of a tiny human? No, he resolved to keep this occurrence to himself and add it to his increasing list of investigations that needed to take place. Aftlain was beginning to accord with its rumoured reputation even though its human inhabitants seemed oblivious to them all. He would remain at this window a while longer, ready to catch more of Aftlain’s nocturnal unholiness.

  Chapter Six

  Thaindire opened his eyes and gazed up at the ceiling of his room. He did not recall retiring to bed. Instead, he remembered sitting at the window maintaining his watch over the night and the square below. He stretched beneath the bedclothes and whilst there was a dull, aching sensation in the lower region of his back, the sharp spasms of pain that he had endured were now absent. He sat up and found he was able to do so with less hesitancy than the previous day. Whilst he collected his thoughts he idly flexed his left hand, which remained bandaged. There was a greater range of movement and a tentative shrug of his shoulders confirmed a similar state of affairs for this right shoulder. Whatever was in the poultice and bandages was certainly working effectively. Thaindire swung his legs from out of the bedclothes and placed his feet on the wooden floor. Gripping the edge of the bed with both hands he made to stand. The aching intensified but he managed to get onto his feet and stand up. He paused allowing the fiery sensation in his back to subside a little and then he slowly walked forward to his clothing. With some effort and leaning against the support of the mantelpiece he succeeded in putting his trousers on. At least he need not worry about Kathryn’s wandering eye now. He padded over to the window, scene of the previous night’s extraordinary vision. The sky was grey and leaden, no autumnal sunshine to be had. Instead of silvery burnished cobbles, he looked out on the square and its inhabitants. The villagers went about their business, criss-crossing the square lugging wares with them. A group of women walked together carrying baskets of laundry before splitting up and heading to their respective homes. Children scurried about playing some game of chase and he watched as two men gutted hanging animals on the western side of the square, their aprons bloodied and stained whilst they worked at the carcasses. Nothing remarkable by the light of day, a complete contrast from the intriguing scene he had witnessed in the night.