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

by Mark G Heath

  He walked up the inclined bordering lane until it ended at the forest edge. He turned the corner of the final house on the fourth row and looked along. The row curved so he could not see all the way along it, but the trees skirted it. He pushed his way along, almost shoved against the timber of the houses; such was the proximity of the trees. The foliage and branches were dense and try as he might he could see no passable route that led southwards away from the village. He estimated he was halfway along the rear of the final row and he needed to press on to be sure as to whether a path might be discovered wending its way through the forest to the tower.

  “ Lost something friend?” asked a voice behind him. Thaindire turned and was confronted by a man dressed in dirty, stained clothing. He wore a hood, which cast a shadow over his features and of greater concern, he was brandishing a dagger at Thaindire.

  “ Just exploring,” replied Thaindire, his grip tightening on his sword.

  “ Nothing to see here,” came a second voice. He glanced round and saw a second man had appeared; he was halfway out of a doorway his dress similarly poor and he also held a dagger. Thaindire shifted his position so he had his back to the trees, the two footpads to his left and right.

  “ You’re the map man aren’t you?” commented the second man, edging closer to Thaindire. He nodded in response and raised his sword by way of warning.

  “ Well, you can map that the Lanes aren’t for outsiders,” he chuckled.

  “ Purse,” ordered the first man, holding out a hand expectedly.

  Thaindire hesitated.

  “ Give us your fucking purse,” hissed the first man, “ or I’ll do you.”

  Thaindire reached to the purse, which was buckled about his waist, and saw the first man’s head dip as he looked to see what Thaindire was doing. This was the signal he needed and with a deft swipe of his blade, he cut straight through the leading wrist of the first footpad. Hand and dagger dropped to the soil as he let out a howl of pain and clutched at the severed limb, blood spurting from the wound.

  “ Bastard, bastard!” said the injured thief as he staggered backwards, the blood spattering onto the ground. Thaindire turned as the second thief came at him, dagger raised. He stepped back into the arc of the attack and drove his sword into the stomach of the second assailant. The blade sunk deep and emerged through his back, causing the man to cry out. Thaindire held the blade in place, taking the man’s weight before twisting and then shoving him off the sword so that he crumpled to the ground, gurgling as his lungs filled with blood.

  He turned back to the one-handed cutpurse who had sunk to one knee, holding his bleeding stump out in front of him. Thaindire put his blade to the man’s throat, allowing the tip to press into the flesh.

  “ Name?” demanded Thaindire.

  “ Drayne Sayneer,” replied the wounded man before gasping and whimpering in pain, “ My hand, you cut off my fucking hand,”

  “ It’ll be your head next,” warned Thaindire.

  “ Why does the alchemist keep tiny men in his house?” pressed Thaindire anxiously looking towards to the doorway lest someone else emerge.

  “ Tiny men? Haven’t a clue what you mean,” responded Sayneer switching his gaze between Thaindire towering over him and his bloodied stump.

  “ Come on, a lowlife like you must know of them, they come out at night,” urged Thaindire.

  “ No idea, I haven’t I swear,” he responded.

  “ Who lives in the tower then and how do I get there?” he asked.

  “ What tower?” answered Sayneer.

  “ The one just south of here. I’ve seen its roof from the tavern, so don’t deny there is one.”

  “ I can’t tell you, please let me go,” he pleaded looking to the fallen body of his accomplice.

  “ So you know then?” muttered Thaindire as he pushed the blade further, the flesh marking as a slight trickle of blood appeared on Sayneer’s neck.

  “ Aye, but I cannot tell you.”

  “ Tell me you wretch or be damned,” threatened Thaindire but the man shook his head.

  “ Please, good master, just let me go, I….” begged the thief.

  Thaindire stared in disbelief as a small pair of horns began to protrude from the man’s forehead. His clothing ripped as a set of spikes erupted from his shoulders, bursting through the material.

  “ You won’t leave here white blood,” gurgled the footpad as his eyes glinted red.

  “ What are you?” asked Thaindire.

  “ The death of you,” hissed the man and he made to rise as his open mouth revealed a set of fangs rather than teeth.

  “ Be gone fiend,” said Thaindire.

  Thaindire did not want to remain any longer and with a savage thrust he drove the sword into the neck of the man, causing his eyes to widen and blood to froth from his open mouth. Retracting the sword, Thaindire stood over him to ensure he was slain and briefly considered trying to hide the corpses in the wood but reasoned the undergrowth was too dense to make any headway into it. There was no natural thoroughfare behind this last row of houses and he had not been seen despatching these two ne’er dowells, so he pushed his way westwards continuing his exploration, moving as fast as he could between the back of the houses and the encroaching forest.

  Panting slightly, Thaindire reached the end of the row and had still had not happened upon any path or route from the village through the trees to the tower. Checking he remained unobserved, he cleaned his sword on the foliage and looked back behind him. There was no activity. The forest continued along, pressing tight against the edge of the village and Thaindire turned left to make his way back to the carpenter’s once more.

  The chiming of the church clock indicated three of the afternoon. Thaindire was pleased to note little more than a slight ache in his back, despite the walking he had undertaken and his combat with the two footpads. He was pleased to have dealt with the threat with his customary expertise, especially after his setback following the assault by the imps. He had investigated the southern side and found it to be an unsavoury place, with dingy alleyways, unfriendly inhabitants and that creature that he had swiftly dispatched. Moreover he had had the existence of the tower affirmed and its intriguing nature had been heightened by Nayseer’s refusal to offer up who resided there, despite the threat of death. Thaindire decided that he would make his visit now to the apothecary and Alyssia Thorne. He had passed the apothecary several times already at the top end of the village and felt that he should use what remained of the light of the day to ascertain what dark arts she practised in order to dispense such effective remedies.

  After a brief walk across the square, Thaindire reached the apothecary, walking up the wooden steps to the front door. Thaindire gave the door a firm shove but it did not open. He pressed his face up against the glass of the door and could see into the apothecary. There was a long counter on which two large vials containing coloured liquid, a red and a blue, sat. The rest of the counter was clear. Behind it were shelves and he could see various bottles, jars, pots and packages stuffing them. A curtained archway led into the back of the store and Thaindire wondered if Thorne was busy in the rear. He raised his fist and rapped on the door and waited. Nothing. He tried again but raised no response. Muttering, Thaindire stepped down the wooden steps, which led to the front of the apothecary and walked along to the bridge. There was a slight gap between the looming knight statue and the exterior of Thorne’s home. He squeezed through this gap and found himself on a narrow stretch of earth, overlooking a steep slope down to the churning waters below. Carefully, he began edging his way along the slight strip, having to turn to face the outside wall of the apothecary and place his hands against it. His sword, tucked through his purse belt, bumped against his right leg and made his manoeuvring awkward. He looked downwards beneath his legs making sure he could see where he was planting his feet, fearful of a misjudged step which would have him stumble and plummet from the riverbank to the river underneath him. Little by little, he
advanced along the side of the apothecary until relieved; he stepped around it and into the rear of the premises. There was a small garden which had rows of low-growing plants arranged neatly. One row contained small bushes, which bore bright blue fruits; another had some kind of spindly grass from which emerged a long amber coloured fleshy centre. He could see at the back of the apothecary steps up to a rear porch, the porch elevated above him so he was able to look underneath it. There were planting pots stacked up underneath the porch. By the steps leading from the porch was a wheelbarrow laden with gardening implements. The well-kept garden ended, as did everything in the village at a wall of trees. The branches appeared almost latticed together, acting as a most effective barrier to anything trying to get into the garden.

  Thaindire heard a door open and then light footsteps on the wooden porch. He crept down and backed under the porch to conceal himself. Over to the left a figure emerged whom Thaindire reasoned must be Thorne. She was slender, with short-cropped bright red hair, a light green corset about her waist, exposing her pale shoulders. He was surprised to note that the she wore no shawl or cloak on a day as cool as this. Her corset then segued into a skirt made of varying hues of red. A mixture of scarlet, russet, blood red and rose red merged to create a striking effect. The skirt was not in one piece but made up of larger sections of material which layered over one another, reaching all the way down to the ground so the edge swished about the soil. Thaindire then realised as Thorne moved across in front of him that the sections of the skirt actually looked like petals and they were attached to the corset. It then dawned on him that the corset was not in fact a corset but rather Thorne’s flesh, the petals attached or rather part of her. She moved gracefully between two rows of plants, a wide, shallow basket slung over her left arm as she advanced towards the wall of trees. Thaindire stayed knelt down, as Thorne kept going not slowing as she reached the forest. The branches then parted, unravelling from one another, the leaves moving aside to admit her passage and then swiftly closing around her so she was swallowed into the forest and hidden from view. Thaindire scrambled from underneath the porch and ran down the small pathway to the forest. Maybe Thorne knew how to reach the tower? He stopped abruptly as he reached the trees. They did not yield. He tried to pull them side but they gave no quarter. He stooped down beneath the level of the branches and found his view obscured by tangled bushes and undergrowth. He had no way of determining how deep the trees were and knew that hacking at them with his blade would be fruitless but would also blunt his weapon. Instead he walked along the forest edge towards the riverside. The trees continued all the way until the riverbank gave way to the descending slope. He was unable to round the trees for there was nowhere to place his feet and he dared not try and climb his way along the forest and river edge for he did not know how far he would have to do so. His way blocked on the riverside he trotted back across the garden until he reached a fence, which intersected with the trees. The woodland again grew densely up to the fence preventing any entry. The fence led back to the apothecary. Thaindire pulled himself up and was able to see houses on the other side and then the forest behind them once more. There was no way through to follow Thorne. What was abundantly clear however was that she was using witchcraft to gain passage through the trees and he had witnessed that first hand. That, added to her herbalism marked her out for subsequent arrest and trial when he returned with his colleagues from the Order.

  Thaindire decided that he wanted to see what Thorne returned with for she had clearly gone with the intent of collecting something as she had carried a basket. He made his way back through the garden and deposited himself under the porch where he sat down and awaited her return.

  The light was just beginning to fade, the day on the cusp of twilight, when the trees untangled once again and from his hiding place in the shadows beneath the porch, he saw Thorne appear from out of the forest as if she had just floated into view. He was able to see that the petal dress extended up the front of her, thus affording her modesty, smaller rows of petals creating a corset effect until the slopes of her breasts were exposed. He features were delicate and her eyes were brilliant blue, contrasting with the red of her hair. Thaindire watched as she walked along a pathway and could see that her basket was full. There were clusters of what appeared to be berries, a pearlescent white in colour, tufts of a yellowy wispy like plant, long purple blades of some kind of grass and another set of berries, this time a bright orange. So, she had been gathering goodness knows what from in the forest. Thaindire reckoned he would not recognise any of the plants and berries that she had harvested and reasoned that they were put to ungodly uses with the aid of witchcraft.

  Thorne passed out of his view and there came the slight echo of her feet on the wooden boards above before he heard the door close. He waited a few moments and then emerged from his vantage point, his legs stiff from having been crossed for so long. Dusk was now descending on the garden and the forest beyond was becoming a dark wall. He glanced towards the way he had entered the garden and discounted a similar exit for fear of ending up in the river. He looked up to the porch and could not see anyone as he crept along its edge, around the steps and to the fence. With a grunt he vaulted it and landed in an alleyway. He noticed that a column of houses led away to his right and he had not seen these previously. Lantern light spilled from the window of one of the houses, affording some light into the alleyway in which he stood. He paused for a moment contemplating taking a look around them but decided that he would return to the inn to update his map and formulate the acquisition of a horse for he was determined that come the morrow he would be leaving Aftlain and gathering reinforcements for the purge that Aftlain required.

  Chapter Twelve

  By the flickering candlelight, Thaindire scraped his quill over the parchment committing further details of his exploration of Aftlain, adding the church and its churchyard, the Lanes on the southern side and the mill house along with the apothecary. He had made some notes on a separate piece of parchment as the body of evidence condemning Aftlain accumulated. Kathryn had attended upon him and had once again diligently looked over his injuries. The lump on his head had receded now just leaving a slightly tender spot if pressed. His left hand bore the raised scars of the imp’s raking talons but he was able to flex it without discomfort. Similarly, although he was unable to see, Kathryn explained that his shoulder was nearly healed and the lack of pain when he moved that area of his body supported her observation. The only area, which continued to trouble him, was his lower back. Kathryn had reported that there was a swelling, a substantial one at that, no doubt the consequence of the depth of the bite mark and placed fresh ribbons of cloth around his waist. She had explained that since much of his strength had returned that a tincture would serve him best. From her dress she produced a small bottle with a royal blue liquid contained within. Thaindire had asked what the tincture was made from and was no less surprised when she was unable to answer him, maintaining the confidence of Thorne’s work. The landlord’s daughter had poured a small amount of the liquid into his flagon and he had, as instructed, drank the draught in one swallow. It had caused him to twist his face as a sour taste filled his mouth before leaving a burning sensation. He had coughed, causing Kathryn to laugh before she promised him a further administration the following morning, not something Thaindire relished.

  Night now enveloped the village and from his window Thaindire could see the orange of lantern light dotted about the buildings across the square. He watched as two farmers crossed the square making for the tavern and its allure of warmth and ale. Leaving his cloak on the rack but taking his sword with him, Thaindire exited his room and stood on the upper landing. He paused staring at the other doors, which surrounded the landing and noted that he had not seen anybody in these rooms, nor actually heard any noise from them. Thaindire strode across to the door opposite and turned the handle, but the door would not open. Unlike his own room this was locked. He knelt down and peered through the ke
yhole but the room beyond was dark. Driven by a renewed sense of purpose, since he fully intended to leave the village the following day, Thaindire tried all the other three doors hoping to add to his increasing list of ungodly behaviour, but found his way impeded by a lock on each of the doors. With a shrug he turned and descended the stairs. As he neared the lower landing he could hear the sound of female laughter and the pleasured groaning of a man. He could see that the door to Lancaster’s room was ajar and the sounds were emanating from within. Firelight bled out onto the landing as he moved across and peered through the gap. Lancaster was sat up on a large bed, far superior to that which Thaindire slumbered in, he held a jewelled chalice in his right hand from which he took a long swig of something. Cavorting with him on the bed were two naked young ladies, their brown and blonde hair spilling down their smooth backs. One was kissing his chest, her puckered lips making their way across his hairless torso, whilst her companion occupied herself at Lancaster’s groin. Thaindire could see a bedside table on which rested a large jug, a platter of fruits and a smaller bottle which Lancaster’s outstretched hand groped for. He grasped it and removed the cork with his teeth spitting the stopper to one side. He let a small amount of the liquid, which was coloured green, trickle onto his chest and with a shriek of delight the two women hungrily lapped away like dogs at a stream. Suddenly, Lancaster’s joy-filled eyes switched from observing the women to staring straight at Thaindire. Instinctively, still stooped over Lancaster, the two women turned and looked towards Thaindire also, lascivious grins adorning their faces.