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

by Mark G Heath

  “ Yes, you won't feel cold at night, the Last One Inn keeps a warm welcome for people like you Master Thaindire,” said Broor.

  “ People like me?” said Thaindire.

  “ Ah, talking of which,” said Ackerley as Kathryn re-appeared.

  “ Has the Captain recruited you? “ she asked.

  “ Not yet, “ smiled Thaindire continuing to watch the villagers.

  “We'll leave you to it,” smiled Broor again.

  “ Good to have met you,” said Ackerley and the two men walked away to a nearby table to join two other men.

  “ He’s been all over the world,” she added, “ sometimes he will tell the tavern a tale from his many adventures, there are plenty to choose from.”

  “ Who? Master Broor or Master Ackerley?” said Thaindire.

  “ Oh not those two, no. They have never been anywhere other than Aftlain. Pula fancies himself mayor of the village, if such a thing was allowed. He talks to everyone. He's always coming up with ideas for improvements for the village. No, I am talking about Captain Reznik,” said Kathryn.

  “ Ah, I daresay he has been all over the world. He is certainly well travelled,” confirmed Thaindire.

  Kathryn leant a little closer to Thaindire, her left breast nudging against his arm.

  “ He’s lived here an age you know, but he always looks the same. Some say he is damned to remain here forever as punishment for looking both ways,” she whispered.

  “ Looking both ways?” queried Thaindire turning to look at her.

  “ Yes, he’s has taken the pay of both the One True God and the Fallen One, so he can dwell with neither when his time comes,” she continued, “so he has to stay here, doing the dirty work of both sides for all time. He couldn’t decide who his master was and is and we all have to choose whose side we are on, don’t we?”

  “ There is only one side. That of the One True God,” countered Thaindire, “ Anyway, he talks as if he is own master.” he added.

  “ That’s what he likes to think, but he is as beholden to them as you and I are.”

  “ Is that a fact?” he remarked surprised that such words of sincerity were coming from that tempting mouth. “ Then whose side are you on?” he asked.

  “ Why, yours of course,” she smiled her eyes widening before giving a giggle and darting away from the witch hunter.

  “ Stupid girl, “ hissed Thaindire quietly, irritated by her flirting.

  He turned back to the bar and cupping his flagon he gazed at the dark contents before slaking the last of the liquid and ordering another. Dromgoole was happy to comply, placing a full container back before him. The pub began to hush as the sound of the lyre became more noticeable and Thaindire realised that everyone had fallen silent to allow the man to sing to the whole of the tavern. Not wishing to appear rude, he swung around on the stool looking out across the room. The bard was stood, strumming on the lyre as his soft voice began to regale all within the pub. His song was similar to those that he had heard in the taverns of Lancester, of a knight journeying Albion seeking his sweetheart and overcoming the scoundrels and vagabonds that sought to thwart his ambitions. It was enjoyable enough and sections of the crowd joined in with the chorus each time. Thaindire noticed that Reznik had not returned to the bar after his departure to use the piss pot, which was somewhat disappointing as there was more he would like to ask of the soldier. Perhaps he would seek him out en route to see Campion, as the Captain’s house was the imposing structure on the corner of the square and the western road that led to the church. The song ended and Thaindire obtained another drink as he sat and listened to the bard’s next ditty, which was a more up tempo affair recalling a battle between two warring dukes and the slaughter of all their sons.

  By the time the raucous rendition had ended, most of the tavern had joined in singing and clapping, enjoying the revelry. Thaindire decided, after four flagons of Lost Soul that it was time for him to retire to his room and he took his leave, heading for the staircase. As he reached the lower landing he watched as Lancaster disappeared into his room, the two village girls draped about him and Thaindire shook his head continuing upwards. He was pleased to note that the few hours he had spent sat at the bar had not had a deleterious effect on his back and this augured well for his further investigations, which needed to be undertaken the following day. He stifled a yawn as he opened his lodging door and stepped into the room.

  Sat on his bed was Kathryn. She was completely naked, her dress cast asunder to one side. Her legs were crossed but she leant slightly backwards, hands planted either side of her, enabling her young breasts to be thrust forward. Thaindire halted in his tracks. The room throbbed with desire, the air thick with the spicy scent, which Kathryn had been wearing, and Thaindire noted that some scarlet candles had been placed on the mantelpiece and lit, differing from the usual white candles.

  “ Come to me Samael,” she purred beckoning him forward. Her eyes flashed with desire and Thaindire felt his groin stir at the enticing woman sat before him.

  “ Love me,” she urged, running a hand across her full right breast and down over her very slightly rounded stomach towards her most private of parts.

  “ I cannot,” Thaindire said firmly looking down at the floor.

  “ Why, do you have a sweetheart?” she asked almost in a mocking tone.

  “ No, I don’t,” he answered.

  ” Then come and love me,” she coaxed rising from he bed, gliding across to him. Thaindire took a step backwards, evading her outstretched hands.

  “ No, I am not permitted,” he explained and strode across to the bed snatching up her dress.

  “ I give you permission, you can do whatever you like, anything at all. Just say you will be mine and only mine, that is all you have to do,” she murmured throatily looking him up and down. Thaindire felt his resolve weaken, her glorious scent smothered him and although he averted his gaze, the image of her sat on the bed was burned into his mind. He heard her coaxing once again and felt unusual warmth rising within. She was trying to enchant him. Witchery! The coldness of his heart sought to assert itself and resist her lusty overture. He swallowed and gripped her elbow ushering her towards the doorway thrusting the dress at her.

  “ Please leave,” he said to her.

  “ Why Master Thaindire, do you not like what you see?” she cooed.

  “ Of course, I am made of flesh, just like you,” he spat angrily, “ But I am forbidden to, to couple,” he stuttered stunned that he had just made such an admission. She was surely using some form of suggestion against him.

  “ Poor lost Samael, you will succumb,” she smiled raising a hand to his cheek. He glanced to her face and was surprised not to see annoyance at his rejection, but concerned affection.

  “ Leave, now,” he said firmly, drawing deep on his willpower. He must not submit to the witch.

  “ The good always do,” she added as she stepped backwards onto the landing and blowing him a kiss. Thaindire slammed the door shut, banishing her image and stood, head against the door, fists clenched. By the One True God’s teeth how he longed to dive into her loins and take refuge amongst her beguiling charms but he had sworn to the contrary and that oath must remain intact. He marched over to the mantelpiece snuffing the scarlet candles, letting the smoke drift up, the room now only lit by the ordinary candles. As if suddenly stung, he fell to his knees and clasped his hands, reciting a prayer and seeking the strength to remain focussed on his mission. He vowed that this night he would keep a further vigil as he revealed more evidence of this village’s embrace of the Fallen One.

  Chapter Nine

  The church bell had last rung out at midnight and Thaindire reasoned that more than an hour had passed without one o’clock being declared. Clearly the sexton retired after midnight. Thaindire was sat on the edge of his bed, his room darkened, looking out of the window in the hope of seeing the little man emerge from the alchemist’s once again. The rain had stopped and the square was still we
t, puddles dotting it. He sat with his sword across his lap, regarding the square below. Nobody was evident and the revelry in the tavern had earlier dwindled as the villagers retired to their homes. Now, silence reigned at the inn. Intermittent moonlight illuminated the square, the passing clouds occasionally causing darkness to cast its shadow across everything. Fortunately, Kathryn had not sought to disturb him again after he had ejected her from his room and eventually the tumescence he had experienced had subsided like the noise of the inn below, leaving him feeling far more in control of himself. His fingers tapped at the blade straddling his legs as he finally saw an orange light across the square flare.

  The tiny silhouette appeared in the doorway of the alchemist’s home and made its way down the steps and along the short pathway from the house. Thaindire held his breath, shifting the sword to his side as he observed the small figure make its way over the stones of the square. This time, it ignored the well and instead maintained a course directly for the tavern. It passed in front of the well and remained highlighted by the bright moonlight, the tiny, elderly features clear to see.

  Thaindire got to his feet and left his room. He needed to see this creature at close hand. Anticipation rising, he headed down the staircase, trying to move quickly without generating too much noise, lest he disturb whoever was in league with the diminutive man to admit him to the tavern. Down the second staircase he descended and halted at its end. The bar area was empty but was dimly lit by the glowing embers of the fire in the great fireplace. He looked to the tavern door. There was nobody there. He stepped off the last stair, about to head to the window to check on the whereabouts of the little man when he heard a scraping noise at the door. A sliver of silver moonlight shone into the tavern at the base of the door, as a section of the timber moved. The wood was pulled outwards, almost as if some flap had been purposely cut into the timber. Through the created gap slipped the sleight shape of the man, the gap remaining in place behind him. Thaindire froze as the arrival padded across the flagstoned floor making for the bar. It stopped in front of the bar and exhibiting the same athleticism as it had when scaling the wall of the well, it jumped from a standstill up onto the bar top landing in a graceful manner. Thaindire edged forward entranced by this creature. Little wisps of hair stood up on its head as it scampered forward and jumped across the serving area to land before a cask of ale. Balancing, it produced a cup from beside the cask and placed it beneath the tap. Thaindire watched intently as the tiny man wrestled with the tap before filling the cup and then, after a few moments, halting the flow of the ale.

  He made a few more paces forward so that he was barely a yard from the bar, the stools lined up before it. He kept his gaze on the figure as it turned and then nimbly jumped back across to the bar where it settled itself down, sitting with its legs over the edge of the bar. It raised the full cup, which was disproportionately large for such a small individual and began to drink deep of the ale. Its head was hidden behind the cup as Thaindire kept advancing. He could hear it slurping and gulping and then the container was lowered and placed on the bar. Two silver eyes blinked and stared straight at Thaindire as he leant forward, lowering himself to be in line with the creature. He could see it was a tiny man indeed; it was difficult to determine its age as its looks suggested late middle age but the dextrous movement was that of youth.

  “ What in the One True God’s name are you?” whispered Thaindire, aware that his hand had tightened around his sword hilt.

  The tiny man made a belching gesture and placed a hand, as if embarrassed, over its mouth. Again it blinked returning Thaindire’s gaze. It showed no fear but rather its expression was one of gentle intrigue. A slow smile crept across its face as it then jumped off the bar and ran for the gap in the door.

  “ No, wait,” hissed Thaindire and he made after the creature. It was quick and had reached the door before he had taken three paces. He grabbed at the door handle but found the portal firmly locked. Thaindire moved across to the window, where he could see the figure making its way across the square, the balding pate shining beneath the moonlight. He removed the catch and swung the window open, standing on the bench, which ran beneath the entirety of the window. Ignoring the ache from his back he stuck a leg through the open window and lowered himself outside, bringing his trailing leg after him. The creature jumped onto the wall of the well and turned to look back at him. Thaindire set off after it, managing a lolloping gait and was nearing the well as the figure somersaulted off the wall and dove into the well.

  Thaindire clattered against the well’s wall and peered over it into the darkness.

  “ Damn,” he cursed for he could see nothing and needed a lantern or a flaming torch. He heard no splash or the scrabbling of hands and feet against the inside of the well and frustrated righted himself. He momentarily contemplated waiting by the well for the mysterious creature to re-appear and to snatch it but heaven knew how long it would be gone or if indeed it would be returning at all and he felt somewhat exposed in the middle of the square. Looking about he could see no other source of light as the village apparently slept on. He could hear the swaying of the trees in the breeze and the occasional nocturnal noises from the forest’s wildlife as he glanced back at the open window of the tavern before walking across to the alchemist’s residence.

  The windows remained shuttered as always, no light crept through the holes in the shutters and the door was shut, but somebody was home as he had witnessed earlier. He approached the door and raised a fist to knock at it but halted himself from doing do. Instead, he tentatively reached for the iron handle and tried to turn it. Slowly it yielded and he felt the latch rise on the other side as he gently pushed the door open, a warm, orange firelight glowing behind it as he stepped inside and closed the door. There came no startled cry or injunction for him to be gone and he realised he had not yet disturbed anybody or anything. He was stood in a large living area, a staircase ahead and to the left, which ascended into darkness. The source of the firelight emanated from his left and a large chair was beside the fire, a pile of books next to the chair and a wine bottle balanced atop the book pile. He sniffed; the air was heavy with a coppery smell. Ahead of him, on the right-hand side of the room was a long workbench, which was adorned with vials, jugs, tubes and such like. Some held liquids of varying colours. Boxes and containers were strewn across the bench evidence of the industry, which took place. He could see a second workbench, behind the first and it too was cluttered with all manner of apparatus, the glass corkscrew tubes and demijohns shining in the firelight. Thaindire edged into the room still unaware of any presence of the alchemist. He reached the first bench and saw piles of parchment amongst the general detritus, an almost unintelligible scribble filling them. He picked up a stoppered vial and peered at the label, “ Aqua Fortis” There was a clear liquid within, the vial was half full and he carefully replaced it back on the bench. Thaindire looked beyond the second bench and he could see the orange of the firelight repeatedly reflected as if there were a wall of windows across from him. He realised that they were not windows but instead two rows of large glass bell jars placed on a rack. He moved closer, carefully stepping around a bundle of some dried plant that leant against the edge of the first worktop, before he halted in his tracks. Several sets of eyes blinked from within the jars. The light of the fire reflected in them as they gazed outwards into the room. Thaindire mouthed silently as he counted twelve jars all of which were occupied bar the furthest jar to the left on the higher rack. In each of the jars was a tiny man, sat curled up looking out from the glass prison, all exactly the same and exact replicas of the creature that Thaindire had pursued to the well. The minute figures sat huddled, showing no alarm at their incarceration inside the bell jar. Thaindire waved an arm in front of them but the host of tiny men did not seem to acknowledge him however, instead staring ahead.

  A sound of movement came from beyond the rack to the left and Thaindire crouched down at the end of the first workbench, laying his
blade on the floor. He heard the shuffling approach of someone who was murmuring to himself or herself. He reasoned it must be the alchemist and whilst he wished to remain undetected he was not unduly concerned if he had to use violence to leave the property. Ilberd was an elderly fellow and would easily be overcome. The combination of mumbling and shuffling continued rising as the source of the noise entered the room. Carefully, Thaindire raised his head to peer over the top of the bench and beyond the second. He could see that whoever it was had its back to him and was stooped. They wore robes and some kind of hat and he could hear the occasional interjection from this person as they talked to themselves. He heard a click as if a catch was being released and then the sound of glass parting from glass. The figure turned to the left and placed a glass lid on the nearby bench. From the profile, Thaindire could tell that it was indeed the alchemist.

  “ Come now Beleth,” spoke the alchemist. He began to shuffle away from the collection of jars and Thaindire shifted his position so the end of the bench concealed him and he peered around the side. He watched as Ilberd walked towards the door followed by another of the tiny creatures. As they advanced towards the door, Thaindire took up his sword and moved along between the two benches, peeking over the top the whole time, keeping the two figures in view. They made their way to the front door, captor leading the prisoner. He looked behind him and saw a doorway, which was lit by another light and a room beyond. He heard the front door open and then the alchemist speak,

  “ Go Beleth and collect what Ilberd needs,”

  Seizing the opportunity Thaindire kept low and made for the doorway behind him. He was in another large room, this time at the rear of the house and to his right were racks of bottles and vials, all labelled. He was unable to take in any more as his gaze alighted on a door and a window ahead of him and he knew there was his exit. Whispering his thanks, Thaindire noted a key still in the lock and he turned it before retracting the bolt at the bottom of the door. He looked back towards the main room and could see the alchemist was closing the front door. He grabbed at the handle and pulled the rear door open, a gust of wind sweeping into the building. Without a further glance, he rounded the door and pulled it shut behind him. He could not see anything but could hear the leaves of the trees nearby as he shuffled to his right. Slowly his eyes adjusted and he managed to locate the alleyway between the alchemist’s home and his neighbour. He stole along the ginnel wondering if he would see the second creature, which Ilberd has released into the night. Thaindire paused at the edge of the square and looked around, thankful for the returning moonlight. The square was empty. What were those creatures? A dozen of them, held captive in the glass jars, ready to do the alchemist’s bidding. Thaindire shook his head. Each time he sought an answer to the strangeness that ran through this village, he found a host of questions instead. Having seen these creatures close at hand, he knew they were wretched abominations, unnatural and brought forth by dark magic. Accordingly they too would know his judgement. He would destroy them and their overseer, the alchemist. It was the One True God’s will. He shivered and plodded back to the Last One Inn seeking the warmth of his room eager to plan the removal of these hideous creatures.