The Fragile Fall At Tallow Bridge (The White Blood Chronicles Book 1) (17 page)

              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.

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 keyhole 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.

“ Master Thaindire, do join us,” called out Lancaster motioning with his free hand, “ Please, do not stand there on the outside, come and enjoy,” he entreated. One of the women began to pad, her head still down low, like some predatory beast, along the bed towards Thaindire. He stepped into the doorway, a rich spicy scent, which he recognised as worn by Kathryn, filling his nostrils.

“ Come my friend, drink deep,” smiled Lancaster unabashed by his nakedness.

“ I shall not,” retorted Thaindire firmly, “ may the One True God have mercy on your sin-infested souls,” he reached for the door handle and as laughter rang out, he slammed the door shut.

              There was a click behind him and he turned. Kathryn’s door, opposite Lancaster’s had just closed. He crossed the landing and knocked on her door. There was a pause and then the door opened revealing Kathryn stood with a broad grin on her face.

“ Have you come to see me?” she asked raising a forefinger to her inviting lips.

“ Only to ask have you seen what Lancaster is doing?”

“ Yes, doesn’t it make you feel, mmmm, warm, Samael?”

“ On the contrary, it disgusts me, such licentious behaviour,” he snarled.

“ Come now my handsome man, all they are doing is loving, where is the harm in that. Better to love than to hate, yes?” she soothed, a hand reaching out to touch his chest.

“ That is not love, that is debauchery,” he countered realising that he had taken two steps into Kathryn’s room. The heady scents began to surround him. He could see a dressing table over her shoulder festooned with small bottles, no doubt the source of the medley of scents that drifted about the room like spirits. A long mirror was placed beside the dressing table, the room reflected within it.

“ They are not hurting anyone,” smiled Kathryn as she began to pull at the strings to his tunic, loosening them, her eyes never leaving his.

“ His heart belongs to another, does it not? You said he was married, yet he ruts with those two, those two whores,” he continued.

“ Sssshh,” Kathryn placed a finger on his lips, he could not banish the tingle that ran through him as her graceful touch was placed upon him.

“ Stay with me, it is better that way,” she quietly urged, pulling him further into the room. The fire crackled in the grate, the warm orange flames dancing and to the side was her bed, a blood red blanket draped open, inviting him to succumb to her comely ways. The heat rose, clouding his head, his nostrils filled with the many scents occupying the room and her hands slowly caressed him, her light touches so inviting and arousing. She moved her mouth towards him, lips parted ready to embrace him, eyes slowly closing. Thaindire felt his resolve melting under the warmth of the room as he too moved his own mouth towards her, suddenly wanting to feel her lips against his and the warm, darting sensation of her tongue in his mouth. He glanced to one side, and caught his own gaze in the mirror. He saw his hands had taken Kathryn by the shoulders, her own had slipped around his waist and then he gasped, shoving her back as he saw his lust-filled expression leering back at him. Alarmed at the twisted, leering face that he had seen, Thaindire pulled his tunic straight as Kathryn sunk to the bed.

“ What is it?” she asked, still smiling, her eyes glazed with desire.

“ No, I cannot. I must not,” mumbled Thaindire and he strode out of the room, relieved at the immediately cooler air beyond the bedroom.

              Without looking back he marched down the stairs towards the loud reverie emanating from the tavern’s main room. He halted at the base of the steps as he looked across a scene of debauchery. The tavern was full of villagers. A fire roared, the orange tendrils of flame rising high within the massive fireplace. The villagers danced, wrapped around one another, swinging flagons and spilling ale from them. Half-naked women sat draped around men, embracing passionately as the men groped them. A surging, writhing tableaux of lust panned out before Thaindire. The bard stood atop a table, his own torso exposed as he frantically plucked at his lyre playing a fast-tempoed song, those villagers dancing in the middle, wheeled about one another, whooping and crying out. Everywhere Thaindire looked he saw hands, thighs, breasts, chests and lips. It was as if the whole tavern had become infected with lust and was engaged in an orgy.

              His gaze shifted to the bar, which was no better. Two figures lay slumped on the bar, inebriated whilst Dromgoole stood bellowing along to the song, waving a flagon high in the air. A young couple sat on the bar, locked in their embrace, her legs kicking excitedly as her amorous companion let his hands roam. Thaindire felt a hand slip around his waist.

“ See, there is love everywhere tonight,” whispered Kathryn in his ear, her hot breathe, causing his ear to tickle.

“ Come back upstairs with me,” she pleaded.

Thaindire took her arm and removed it from about his middle and walked towards the tavern door. He rounded one villager who was crawling across the floor giggling to himself; drool spilling from his open maw.

              He stepped through the doorway closing the heavy door after him. The cold of the night served as a delicious antidote to the corrupting heat of the tavern. He pulled at his tunic, feeling it to be sticky and drenched with the sin oozing through the Last One Inn. He took several deep breaths of the frost-tinged air, the hoots and shouts coming loud from behind him. Thaindire stepped away from the door and gathered himself. The moon shone bright, its silver light coating the village as he decided that he must leave now lest he be consumed by the village’s orgy of desire. Something untoward was happening. It was as if the village was seeking to absorb him, consume him in order to make him part of its unholy fabric. Witchery was evidently at the heart of this sensation, designed to leech away his resolve and cause his resistance to the debauchery to crumble. Thaindire gave thanks to the One True God that he had been blessed with a core of righteousness, which would not be corrupted by Aftlain’s rotten influence.

              Thaindire walked around the corner seeking the stables at the rear of the tavern. A combination of light from within the tavern, spilling out of the windows and the moonlight afforded him sufficient light by which to see as he entered the tavern’s yard. Barrels were heaped to one side and a wagon, no doubt the one he arrived in, was parked to the left. Ahead of him was a low-roofed building and he heard the snort of a horse from within. He slipped through an open doorway to the first bay where a horse reacted by standing up.

“ Ssssh boy,” hushed Thaindire as he reached, patting the side of the horse’s head. Now it was time to make good his escape. He looked about and then cursed as he saw the moonlight highlight the chain that led from the steed’s leg to an iron peg hammered into the ground. Thaindire kicked at the peg but it made no movement and was solidly fixed. Muttering he entered the second bay which was empty and made his way to the third. The occupying horse stirred and gave a nervous whinny as Thaindire sought to calm it. Cursing he heard the clank of an iron chain again and found it to be similarly fixed into the ground. The fourth and fifth bays were empty. He berated the protectiveness of the villagers to their mounts. His sword would not cleave chains as thick as those that bound the horses and he could not remove the pegs affixed to the ground. The tavern’s stables had proved fruitless. Thaindire walked back to the doorway and stepped out into the yard once again.

“ Going on a trip?” asked a voice smoothly and quietly. Thaindire turned and saw Reznik stood leant against the wall of the tavern, his sharp features picked out by the light shining from within the inn. He was smoking a pipe and he took another puff on it waiting for Thaindire to answer.

“ Needed to escape in there,” he responded pointing.

“ I can understand that. Doesn’t appeal to me either. Never been a lover. All that leaping about and tickling, ridiculous. I much prefer the cool, hard feel of coin. Coin doesn’t nag you, or lie to you or run off with your supposed best friend,” admitted Reznik pushing himself off the wall and walking towards Thaindire.

“ And of course, even better than the coin is the killing. Now, that is what I am designed for” he declared. “ Much like you.”

“ Only in the right circumstances,” responded Thaindire ascertaining his escape routes as the Captain advanced.

“ Interesting. I find all circumstances lend themselves to killing. It is the purest form,” he opined. He came to a halt a half pace away from Thaindire, his back to the tavern. As per the previous evening Reznik was wearing his uniform and his peaked cap.

“ Cold night to be riding off,” he remarked jabbing the end of his pipe skywards.

“ Most likely a frost.”

“ Ground would be hard though, making tracking difficult.”

“ Though there would be nothing to track.”

“ Really?” smiled Reznik.

The two paused, Thaindire felt his hand twitch ready to dive to his sword hilt as he waited for the Captain to show his intentions having discovered Thaindire lurking about in the stable.

“ Why not join me for a drink?” offered Reznik.

“ I’ve no desire to go back in there whilst all that is going on,” retorted Thaindire.

“ Oh I didn’t mean in the tavern, too much for me as well. Come to my house, you and I have more in common than you would realise, there is much for us to talk about.”

“ Thank you but I would prefer to be alone and take in the air,” answered Thaindire.