The Fragile Fall At Tallow Bridge (The White Blood Chronicles Book 1) (16 page)

“ Pleased to have met you,” called Talvace after him but Thaindire ignored him, making for the stone archway and the road beyond. Thaindire had seen enough. There was no redemption to be found in Aftlain. It was time to depart and summon the Order of Allsaints. He needed additional witch hunters, as alone he would not be able to issue an effective judgement against this unholy village. He would seek transport and make for the City of Lancester without delay.

“ Look, I will pay double the value of any of these horses,” urged Thaindire waving his purse in front of the nonplussed farrier.

“ That’s as maybe Master Thaindire, but they are not mine to sell,” he replied standing with his hands on his hips.

“ What? You don’t own a horse?” asked Thaindire incredulously.

“ I shoe ‘em, don’t need to ride one myself.”

“ Then whose are these horses?” he asked waving over at the small stable to the side of the farrier’s home where four steeds were visible.

“ Not for me to say,” came the response.

“ Good lord man, surely you can at least tell me who the horses belong to so I can go and see the owners,” pleaded Thaindire. The farrier shook his head and folded his arms.

“ Not for me to be telling others about their business.”

Thaindire stared at the farrier, struggling to keep his temper in the face of such obstinacy. He had resolved to acquire a horse and make post haste for Lancester to report on the ungodly goings on in Aftlain and to return in numbers to set about bringing the village to order. The behaviour of Priest Campion confirmed to him that the whole of the village was riddled with unholy desires and practices and that alone he would not be able to get to the root of it all. He had accumulated enough evidence in his short stay that should persuade the Lanceholder-General to issue a declaration and allow a Vanguard Presence from the Order to attend upon Aftlain and uncover who was orchestrating this ill behaviour and extinguish it. To do that of course he needed a mount and on his return from the church he had headed for the farrier’s only to be denied his intended purchase.

“ Well who else has horses in the village that aren’t stabled here?” he asked, hoping the farrier would tell him at least that.

“ Go and ask Ansell next door, he has a stable behind the smithy, he might know of someone willing to sell,” commented the farrier. Thaindire nodded and walked the short distance to the smithy. Redway was in occupation, working hard over a smouldering piece of metal.

“ Afternoon Master Thaindire,” he greeted as Thaindire came into view.

“ Afternoon Master Redway, I understand you keep a stable?” he asked.

Redway lowered his tong and hammer.

“ That’s right. Want a horse do we?”

“ Yes I do.” said Thaindire firmly.

“ Follow me then. Robert, watch the forge whilst I head to the stables,” Redway called to his son.

Redway headed down the side of the smithy with Thaindire close behind him. There was an open yard behind the smithy and a low-roofed building opposite.

“ Well, three of the horses are out working, they belong to farmers who live on the south side,” explained Redway as they walked along the stables. Thaindire was able to see in as each stable had the upper half of the stable door open and three empty bays met his gaze. In the fourth a handsome, jet-black stallion stood and gently snorted.

“ That’s no farmer’s steed,” he commented on the well-groomed animal.

“ Spot on. He belongs to the Captain so you can forget about buying him, not a chance,” explained Redway. The next four bays all contained horses either stood up or lying down. They were not of the quality of Reznik’s mount but would certainly last the journey to Lancester. Redway allowed Thaindire to enter the bays and inspect the horses. All were well looked after, although, he did notice that the horses had a cuff about their right rear legs, which was attached to a chain, which then led to a stone block at the rear of the stable.

“ So who owns these four?” asked Thaindire.

“ The first one is Ellen Ryall’s, the costermonger. The next is Gascoigne’s, the cooper and the other two belong to Thomas Ardene and Arnald Rudhale they are both farmers. You could try them. Don’t know where Thomas and Arnald will be, in all honesty you would be best waiting for tonight and addressing the tavern as most of the farmers will be in then. Ellen and the cooper are just along the way, at their stores,” explained Redway helpfully.

“ Thank you,” replied Thaindire.

“ Planning on leaving us?” asked Redway as they began walking back to the smithy.

“ Well, I shall have to eventually, when my mapping is done,” replied Thaindire, “ I have to report back eventually.”

“ I see,” nodded Redway as he rubbed his large hands together. “ Be sure to let us know when you intend to travel.”

Thaindire waved farewell to the smith, thankful for his more accommodating nature than the farrier. He suspected there was a stable at the tavern also and he had seen wagons at the mill house so there were bound to be horses there too. Someone must be willing to sell and for a good price too.

              A little while later, Thaindire stood looking out across the square as villagers wandered past him. He bit into an apple he had bought from Ryall and savoured its sweet taste. It was particularly crisp and delicious. Indeed, when he had spoken to Ryall to buy a horse from her, he had noticed that the array of produce she sold was impressive. The fruit bore no blemishes, were of a greater size than he was used to seeing, their colours bright and the scent rising from them fresh and inviting. As he spoke to her, other villagers bustled about him purchasing the apples and pears, the small boxes of ripe, shining berries and other fruits, which he did not in fact recognise. His attempts to purchase a steed from Ryall and Gascoigne had met with no countenance. Ryall had firmly, but politely explained that she needed her horse to make the final trip to Lancester before winter set in. Gascoigne had considered Thaindire’s offer of double the horse’s worth but ultimately turned it down as he went on at great length that he would not be able to acquire a replacement until spring time and even then it was not guaranteed. He took a chunk from the apple again and was undeterred. He would ask the patrons of the tavern this evening, surely a farmer would be looking to save on feed and stable costs over the winter period and if it came to it, he would just have to steal a mount, such was the need to return to Lancester.

              Thaindire idly lobbed the apple core to the floor and made his way past the carpenter’s and the sound of sawing and hammering having decided that since he could not make an immediate departure, he would ensure the afternoon would be productive. He would look to bolster his case to the Order and seek more evidence by exploring the massed ranks of buildings that made the southern side of the village and try to find a route to the tower. He approached the alleyway, which ran, between the carpenters and the setback alchemist’s home, which looked as uninviting as ever. A narrow ginnel ran to the right and Thaindire peered into the gloom. The roadway was uneven, being earth rather than cobble. The buildings were two storeys, looking onto the back of the various stores, little light penetrating from above. He walked along the ginnel, glancing at the houses. Occasionally a female housekeeper would emerge to tip wastewater into the ginnel or shake out a blanket. All glanced at him but none spoke. The homes were unremarkable and packed tightly together so that no alleyway ran between them, but only a gap which a rat could escape down, or, Thaindire noted with grim recognition, one of the alchemist’s unnatural miniature creations. The lane ended at the smithy and he turned left to find the earth rose fairly sharply as he walked besides the last house in the lane and onto another lane which ran parallel to that which he had just traversed. He stared down it not able to see the end of this ginnel in the poor light. He opted against walking down it and carried on along the side of the end property. Behind this was a third lane, again higher than the one before it and similarly the narrow thoroughfare ran between the back of the third row of houses and the front of the fourth and final row. This was the southern edge and accordingly if there was any way to reach the tower he ought to find it here.

              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.