The Fragile Fall At Tallow Bridge (The White Blood Chronicles Book 1) (18 page)

“ Very well Master Thaindire, but if you change your mind on your walk do call in, you know where I am?”

“ I do, thank you again, “ he answered stepping past Reznik.

“ You won't find any horses to take by the way,” said the Captain. Thaindire ignored him and walked back towards the square.

              At the square, he saw two more villagers enter the Last One Inn, the cacophony of noise surging as the door opened. He glanced up and could see light in all the windows on the first floor and wondered if Kathryn, in her heightened state, had ensnared someone else and lured him, or her, to her room. He cast the thought aside as he focussed on finding a way to leave the village. It was evident that this village wanted to engulf him in its own despicable behaviour and he feared the longer he remained here, the more susceptible he was to its insidious unholiness. There was clearly no point in trying to engage with the drunken patrons of the tavern to acquire a horse at this time and therefore stealing one was his only option. The horses at the smithy, like those behind the tavern were too secure. That left the farrier but given his reaction of point blank refusal he suspected that any horses kept there would be similarly chained. That just left the mill house. Given its isolation from the rest of the village he hoped that they were less concerned about the harnessing of their mounts and that he would find a suitable steed there to allow him to head to Lancester, even by moonlight.

              The noise of the tavern lessened as he walked westwards, the cold air clinging to him, chilling the sweat, which had beaded on his back. Nobody was moving in this part of the village as he turned by the bakers and made his way along the narrow dirt track down to the river. He was glad of the isolation. He moved cautiously, his only light now that of the moon above. The trees were still on either side of him although the nightlife was very much moving judging by the hoots and chirrups that came from the dark ranks of trees. Thaindire rounded the bend in the track and then saw that he was not the only one heading for the mill house. Up ahead was the unmistakable figure of one of the alchemist’s miniature men. It walked purposefully along, its tiny boots plodding across the earth of the track. Thaindire quickened his step and began to gain on the figure, which did not adjust its own pace. Beneath the moon, the pair continued towards the miller’s home. Thaindire wondered if it was returning after an aborted visit earlier for he was positive that he had seen one of the tiny men in the river, even though Maunsell had passed it off as a log.

              The diminutive man crossed the grassed area out of the front of the mill as Thaindire halted and shrunk into the trees beside the track. Crouching, he watched from the concealed position as the front door of the mill opened in expectation of the tiny man’s arrival. Light flooded from the doorway and he could see the silhouette of a man, presumably Maunsell. The little figure halted in front of him and Maunsell gesticulated towards the river. Maunsell reached behind him and produced a guttering, lit torch as he and the tiny man walked around to the edge of the river. Thaindire watched as the duo stood motionless, the river flowing ceaselessly past them. There came a creaking sound and Thaindire noticed that the waterwheel, which hitherto had been motionless, suddenly cranked into life and slowly began to turn. Into view came a pair of raised arms, which were held above a head with closed eyes and open mouth before the rest of the soaked body followed. Water spilt from the body, which was still clad in clothing, although in the torchlight it was difficult to discern anything of note from the attire. With a clunk, the wheel stopped and the water drained from the buckets on the wheel and the body, which was stretched out. Thaindire saw Maunsell turn to the tiny figure and pass it something small and metallic. The figure then jumped forward and landed on the legs of the unfortunate tied to the wheel. It scurried up over the body and halted on its chest, squatting.  Intently it then wielded the metal object, most likely a knife and began cutting into the chest of the body. Maunsell looked on, holding the torch aloft as the orange light illuminated the grim scene. After a few moments, the tiny figure reached within its tunic and produced a piece of cloth, which it smoothed out beside it. The knife then flashed again and darted back and forth until the tiny figure turned and threw the knife so it stuck in the soil beside Maunsell. Thaindire continued to watch as the small man pulled at the chest and removed something, which glistened, and shone, liquid trickling from it as he quickly placed it in the cloth and covered it over with the balance of the material. Grasping the package with both arms it then took a flailing leap from the water wheel and landed deftly on the riverbank.

              Maunsell turned and plucked the knife from the ground as the waterwheel groaned into life once more, the body disappearing over the top. The wheel continued to turn a little longer and then halted. Once this had happened, Maunsell walked back into the mill house, the door closing and the orange light fading away. Encumbered with its parcel, the tiny man started walking across the grass back towards the track. The package was half the size of it and slowed it by some margin and also meant that it had to lean its head back to see over the top of the grisly package. Thaindire stood up still within the cover of the trees.

“ Right you little bastard, time to have a look at you,” he whispered to himself. He drew his sword and hefted it in his hand. The tiny man drew closer, one foot padding out before the other, barely making a sound. It drew level with Thaindire on the dirt track and just as it passed him, he emerged and with a swift movement he slammed the pommel of his sword onto the back of the tiny man. It crumpled to the floor, spilling the parcel, which flopped open. A trickle of dark liquid spilled from a meaty looking object. Thaindire grimaced as he recognised it was a man’s heart, freshly cut from the chest of the poor soul bound to the waterwheel. He kicked the foul package into the foliage and knelt down besides the motionless figure. It was breathing and had only been stunned by his assault. Carefully, he turned it over and regarded it. It wore a dark tunic, pants and boots which were well made and from a decent material. Its face was that of an elderly tiny man, little wrinkles apparent on its brow and by its eyes. Thaindire knew from its dexterity and agility that it acted far from like an elderly man. He glanced back over his shoulder towards the mill house but there came no activity and it seemed his ambush had gone unnoticed.

“ Right then little fiend,” muttered Thaindre, “ let’s see what your master is willing to part with, for your return.” With that he scooped the tiny figure up under his left arm and began to ascend the track back to the village.

              Thaindire moved urgently back to the bridge road. He furtively looked either side of him and was pleased to see the road empty. He crossed the road and decided that he would make his way down the square in the shadows of the stores on the southern side. Carefully, but quickly he strode beside the now closed shops until he came to the carpenter’s and made a right turn onto the path, which led to Ilberd Grimoult’s. All through the journey the tiny man had remained unconscious and Thaindire gave thanks for that as despite its small stature he suspected it had a wiry strength and would no doubt have sought to wriggle free from his grasp.

              Thaindire headed up the path and then firmly knocked at the door. He did not have long to wait until it swung open and Grimoult was stood before him, enshrouded in his robes. Thaindire gave him a shove and stepped into the house, reaching and closing the door after him but still facing the alchemist.

“ Carabia!” gasped Grimoult seeing one of his charges pinned under Thaindire’s arm.

“ So that’s its name is it?” responded Thaindire glancing about the large room.

“ What have you done?” asked the alchemist raising his hands aloft in concern. He made to move forward to tend to the fallen Carabia but Thaindire motioned him back.

“ Sit down,” ordered Thaindire and pointed at one of the seats by the fireplace.

“ Oh Carabia,” moaned Grimoult as he shuffled towards the seat and did as Thaindire instructed. Thaindire made his way to the second chair opposite which gave him a good view of the room lest any of these strange creatures made themselves known and lowered himself into the chair. He grimaced as he felt the lump on his back nudge the rear of the chair and he wriggled forward to alleviate the pressure on the still sore area. He draped the still prone creature across his lap and then laid his blade over it signalling a clear intent to the worried-looking alchemist.

“ Now Grimoult, you and I are going to talk,” asserted Thaindire.

Grimoult nodded and clasped his hands in concern.

Grimoult peered at Thaindire, the flames from the fire reflecting in his spectacles. He leant forward in his seat as if ready to catch Thaindire’s prey lest he should roll from his captor’s grasp.

“ What, in the name of all that is holy, is this abomination?” demanded Thaindire.

“ That is Carabia. He is a Homunculus,” replied Grimoult matter of factly.

“ A Homunculus?” repeated Thaindire, “ and the others, in the jars?”

“ Yes, they are all Homunculi, tiny creatures made in the image of man.”

“ What heresy is this?” exclaimed Thaindire, “ Do you think you are some kind of god?”

“ No, a father,” replied the alchemist coolly.

“ If you are the father, then where is the witch that has given birth to such demon spawn?”

“ There is no mother. I have created them. Their creation is but one of my many experiments.”

“ To what end?” asked Thaindire his face a mask of revulsion.

“ They are my helpers. As you can no doubt see, I am not a young man and the acquisition of many of the elements that I require in my experiments requires those who are far sprightlier than old Ilberd Grimoult. So I have created Homunculi to fetch, to bring, to seek and to help. Their tiny hands are adept at reaching into those nooks and crannies our lumbering mitts cannot. They bring forth the minerals, the metals and the gemstones that I require.”

“ What experiments?” demanded Thaindire gazing over at the benches full of apparatus.

“ To learn more of our world and how it is formed.” Grimoult leant back in his chair and paused, regarding Thaindire. He removed his spectacles revealing his eyes fully. The blue eyes flickered with intelligence and know-how. Thaindire waited as Grimoult rubbed the lenses of his glasses with his robe before perching them on his nose once more.

“ I came to Aftlain because it has a reputation for tolerance and understanding that would allow me and my helpers to investigate the many mysteries and complexities of our world without the ignorance and bile promulgated by you and your kind.” commented Grimoult, more matter of fact than with rancour.

“ My kind?”

“ Yes,” he continued, “ I have lived in several cities across Albion and soon the High Church comes knocking and decrying my work without even trying to understand it. Allegations and lies follow, until I am drummed out of where I have lived, threats of hanging echoing after me. The High Church fails to understand that I am merely trying to comprehend why things happen and in doing so perhaps better man’s existence.”

“ By dabbling in potions and elixirs?”

“ Chemicals, Master Thaindire, chemicals. They are at the heart of everything and by understanding them I understand the world.”

“ The One True God created his mysteries not for us to unfathom but as testament to his greatness,” answered Thaindire.” They are as they are. We are too weak to understand his ways.”

“ That is your belief and I respect that, even though it does not accord with my own. Yet, you see Master Thaindire, I do not arrive with the sound of splitting timber and breaking glass, wielding a mace with the supposed authority to destroy and obliterate. No, I have had my fill of such blind intolerance and thus I now reside in Aftlain.”

“ How long have you lived here then?”

“ Ten winters, this will be my eleventh and it is not far away,” Grimoult motioned to the window.

“ Presumably you know most of the village?” asked Thaindire.

“ Most of those who reside here yes. Many are like me, seeking to exercise their skills and abilities without the interference and hindrance of the ignorant. The tragedy of our world is that to be special is to be ostracised, to be marked as unnatural and therefore unsafe. Have you met the cousins?”

“ The seamstresses?” clarified Thaindire.

“ Yes that’s right.”

“ I have.”

“ Quite simply experts in the production of attire. Nobody in this kingdom can match them for their speed of output, the quality of their garments, the beauty and longevity of every fibre that they weave. Yet they were hounded from Tulford by a riotous mob believing them to be enchantresses creating clothing for the Fallen’s handmaidens.”

“ They came from Tulford?” remarked Thaindire.

“ Yes as far away as that.”

“ But one of them has a forefinger shaped like a needle and a thumb as if it were a thimble. Those are surely the mutations caused by cavorting with ungodly gifts,” protested Thaindire.

“ She was born with the affliction but turned it to her strength thus enabling her to sew and craft far faster than others. Of course, rather than rejoice in having two people who can create such masterpieces, their differences are seized upon as amounting to the work of the unholy,” countered Grimoult. He gazed at the blade resting across Carabia and jabbed a forefinger at the sword.

“ I see you carry one of Redway’s blades. He was Chief Weaponsmith to the Earl of Toran. Other nobles’ families would send for him to craft their armour and swords. He is able to manipulate metal like a sculptor. His eye for detail enables metal to be strengthened beyond its understood limits, to create a blade so sharp that the air itself is cut apart by its movement. Such was the demand for his expertise he had a waiting list of years. Years.  Yet his rivals concocted a plot that he had promised the souls of the Earl and his family to a demon in exchange for the secrets of forging from the netherworld and he had to take flight with his own family for fear of execution. What you would do well to understand Master Thaindire is that each artisan you will find in this village is not some deviant exercising dark powers but rather an extraordinarily skilled person with an ordinary life merely seeking sanctuary from the bigotry that stalks this kingdom. Intolerance has become a byword for righteousness. If it does not accord with your creed then it must be wrong, it must be the manifestation of evil and thus annihilated. Yet I will wager that even a proponent of such a doctrine as you has marvelled at the delicate robustness of the cloak the cousins made for you and that you have given thanks for the well-weighted blade that you now hold over my helper.”

Thaindire let Grimoult’s words hang in the air for the moment and then gathered himself. He had not come here to be subjected to the rhetoric of a charlatan who dabbled in coloured waters and brought forth miniature abominations. This was no debating society, he wanted information.

“ So what do these Homunculi seek on your behalf? This is the fourth such sighting I have had since my time here. The first collected a package from the tavern, the second plummeted down the well, the third lay in wait in the river by the mill house and this one, this one cut out the heart of a man at the mill house this very evening.”

“ They collect the various common and uncommon items that assist my investigations. You are a learned man, Master Thaindire; perhaps you would like to see?” offered the alchemist, “ The fruits of my labours are in the rear room.”

Thaindire hesitated looking towards the doorway. His interest was piqued and besides it would merely add to the weight of condemning material that he had identified about this spiritually bankrupt village.

“ Very well, but no mischief old man or this thing dies,” Thaindire asserted, rising and tucking the homunculus under his left arm, his blade still at the ready in his right hand.

“ By all means,” replied Grimoult. With a groan he got to his feet and led Thaindire towards the archway.

“ This is my apparatus which I use to distil, to combine and change through the states of the various materials I use,” Grimoult explained waving his arm at the two encumbered benches. He walked slowly forward, his boots shuffling across the floor as the rows of tiny faces all turned and looked at the three of them. The silver eyes blinked and tiny hands were raised to the jars that kept the homunculi captive.

“ Why keep them in jars?” queried Thaindire as he passed.

“ They were born, or formed if you would prefer, in jars, so they are a natural home to them. Besides they like to watch what is going on around them.”

“ They are very quiet,” remarked Thaindire as he peered at the inquisitive tiny faces.

“ That is because they are mute.”

“ Mute?” questioned Thaindire.

“ Yes mute, I don’t make them for the conversational ability you know.”

They entered the rear room and Grimoult took down a lantern, which had been hanging from a hook in the wall. He set off between two racks motioning for Thaindire to follow. The racks were surprisingly ordered, containing labelled packages, bottles, vials and pots.

“ Everything you see here has come from a consequence of the application of a process to the five elements,” declared Grimoult.

“ Everything I see here has come from you meddling with the One True God’s bounty,” retorted Thaindire.

“ Some might say it is the same thing,” shrugged the alchemist.

“ Created from fire, earth, water, air and ether. Along this shelf are the metals, copper, zinc, silver, gold, lead, cobalt, mercury and so on.”  Thaindire observed the neat labels on the boxes. He noticed that there were multiple boxes of the substances.

“ Opposite are the gemstones and crystals,” continued Grimoult. Thaindire looked at yet more boxes bearing “ Sapphire, Ruby and Amethyst”. They rounded the end of the rack and headed down another row, this time it contained large bags, which were secured by rope at the top.

“ Ground bone, sand, saltpetre, alum, ammonia,” muttered Thaindire as he read the labels. He crossed the aisle between the racks and saw the opposite side contained many bottles all gleaming in the lantern light. The first set of bottles contained a yellowy-red liquid and the label read “ Aqua Regia”

“ What’s Aqua Regia?” asked Thaindire halting by about a dozen bottles of the liquid.

“ King’s Water. It is used for corroding the noble metals.”

“ Noble metals?”

“ Gold and platinum and such like.”

The next set of bottles bore the label, “ Aqua Ardens” and the collection thereafter.” Aqua Tofani”. Thereafter came Aqua Vitae and Horn Quicksilver. More labels followed on the array of containers, Flowers of Antimony, Glauber’s Salt, King’s Yellow, Lunar Caustic, Powder of Algaroth and Aqua Fortis. The variety of unusual names extended along the racks, both high and low and Thaindire could only wonder at what effect arose from these materials.

“ And what is Aqua Fortis?” asked Thaindire.

“ That is Strong Water, it is used for dissolving the base metals,” explained Grimoult.

“ Is it now?” commented Thandire making a note in his head of the liquid. The alchemist reached the end of the second row and turned to face Thaindire.

“ All of these substances have to be acquired and created, the accumulation of years of searching and experimentation.”

“ And the cutting out of a man’s heart?” accused Thaindire.

“ He no longer had a use for it,” answered Grimoult with a slight shrug. “Where is it by the way?”

“ Down by the miller’s,” answered Thaindire.

“ No matter, it can be collected later.”

“ Tell me old man, do you have a horse?”

“ Not I. I fear I could not get in the saddle. The smith and the farrier are the best places to try if you are seeking a mount. Intending to leave the village are we?”

“ I will have to return to Lancester in the fullness of time, when my work has been completed. In fact, you can help me with that; there is a tower to the south of here, further into the woods. Who lives there?”

“ I don’t know,” replied the alchemist, “ I rarely leave this house and of course, the homunculi can't tell me anything.” He gave a short laugh.

“ How do I get to it then?” pressed Thaindire.

“ Is there no road or path from the village?”

“ None that I have been able to find.”

“ Hmm. Can’t help you with that. Now if you are interested in the uses for sulphur I can tell you plenty,” remarked Grimoult as he continued walking. Thaindire followed the alchemist stepping out of the aisle. He felt a twisting movement under his arm and was taken by surprise as the revived homunculus squirmed out of his grasp, alighted on the floor and darted away from him.

“ Come here,” growled Thaindire as he lurched forward seeking to re-capture it.

A bright white light filled his vision along with a sharp smell of burning. Blinded he raised his arms instinctively in case he came under attack. Something shoved into him and he stumbled backwards banging into a wall. He flailed his sword before him, his vision reducing to a series of flashing colours.

“ Fiend, you’ve blinded me!” yelled Thaindire.” What devilment is this? “ he demanded. He remained with his back pressed to the wall, cutting the space in front of him with a backwards and forwards motion of his sword.

“ It will pass,” called the alchemist from somewhere to his right.

Gradually the lights receded to be replaced by darkness and then the room slowly came into focus again. Grimoult was stood in the doorway to the front room, the homunculus stood besides him regarding him carefully. The alchemist held some kind of pot in his hand and a fizzing, sparkling white light danced about the top of the pot.