The Fragile Fall At Tallow Bridge (The White Blood Chronicles Book 1) (22 page)

“ Master Thaindire, allow me to present Sir Joshua Pennant,” Campion indicated with an outstretched hand towards the red-headed knight, “ And this is his brother Sir Simon Pennant,” he added with a gesticulation towards the darker-haired knight.

Thaindire noted that both wore armour, which was clearly expensive, the chain mail and banded metal apparent beneath their thick cloaks, which were both coloured blood red. Joshua Pennant had both long sword and a morning star hanging from his belt, the sword bearing a garnet or ruby in its pommel, the light from Campion’s lantern flashing across the jewel. Reznik slowly, like a cat unfurling itself from a ball of sleep, moved into view taking up a closer position from which he was able to hear the conversation.

“ Wolves eh?” commented Sir Joshua, “ Were you badly hurt?”

“ Reasonably so yes, but I am much recovered,” replied Thaindire. Sir Simon Pennant regarded him with his deep brown eyes; their gaze unwavered as he edged his horse forward slightly.

“ Well may I wish you a speedy recovery from your ordeal,” assured Sir Joshua smoothly.

“ We are doing our best to hunt down the wolves before they cause the village real problems with the onset of winter,” he explained.

“ A laudable sentiment indeed,” answered Thaindire, “ Are you overseers of the village, for I did not know that the village was subject to such warden ship.”

“ Did you not?” responded Sir Joshua, his eyes narrowed slightly, “ Why would you know? You are from Lancester, yes?”

“ Indeed I am and in the employ of the Duke De Rainault. I was unaware that he had his stewards at this village,” pressed Thaindire as he sought to establish on whose authority the capable looking knights acted.

“ Ah well I would suggest that it is not your concern.”

Sir Joshua sat up and was about to tug on his reins to advance his horse when Thaindire put a hand up to the horse’s head as if to restrain it and spoke further.

“ But where is your seat?”

Sir Simon Pennant spoke this time.

“ Master Thaindire, do not presume to know my brother and me. Nor would I suggest you seek to impede his horse unless you wish to be arrested. We are overseers of Aftlain and its environs within Centopani. The matter of our seat is not one, which you need be concerned with, even if you are a mapmaker,” he said, his voice steely and low.

“ Forgive me, Sir Simon, only I had not happened upon your seat and given your appearance this evening I was merely curious as to its whereabouts.”

“ We have only been occasioned to meet with you this evening, Master Thaindire, but you do not find us troubled with the provenance of your lodgings, do you?” remarked Sir Simon menacingly.

“ No, no, I meant nothing by it, I assure you,” replied Thaindire.

“ Master Thaindire is unaccustomed to Aftlain and its er tolerances,” interjected Campion. Thaindire cast him a sour look.

“ So it is by the Duke’s authority that you presided over this evening’s…..judgement?”

“ No,”responded Sir Joshua, “ It was with the One True God’s authority that we acted this evening as we aided Priest Campion in identifying and judging a witch. Do you cast doubt on that?” he challenged. Thaindire saw Reznik stand up straight and his hand strayed to the hilt of his sabre. Thaindire cursed inwardly. He doubted entirely the pronouncement that Coffyn was a witch; rather it seemed to him that she was the victim of a lynching and a weak rope, yet he was outnumbered and unsure of the authority of these two knights.

“ No, no I do not doubt it,” he conceded. “ It is the One True God’s will and judgement.”

Sir Joshua nodded firmly.

“ Good, well you must excuse us Master Thaindire, we must discourse with Priest Campion. Hunting down the work of the dark Fallen Lord is unrelenting.”

“ Yes, of course,” replied Thaindire as he stepped to one side enabling the knights to progress behind Campion and Stafford. Thaindire stood on the bridge raging against his own impotence but it was evident that those two knights were most firm in their authority and would not countenance any challenge from Thaindire alone. He watched as the four figures, highlighted by the lantern light, headed up the hill towards the church.

“ Well Thaindire, I thought you were going to take them on there for a moment,” commented Reznik who had appeared with his customary quiet besides Thaindire.

“ Did you now? Going to wade in and help me were you?” replied Thaindire as he turned towards the soldier.

“ Who knows, I might have done, you’ve got plenty of coin to afford me,” grinned Reznik as he took his pipe from his mouth and swished it through the air as he mocked a sword fight. Thaindire gave a derisory snort.

“ I see you spoke out for the girl then,” chided Reznik, “ Very noble of you, I am sure.”

“ What and risk a lynching at the hands of a mob?” retorted Thaindire, his voice rose as he remained sore at his failure to have intervened in her death.

“ It would be a noble cause death.”

“ And ultimately ineffectual.”

“ Well, it is your conscience that has to deal with it, not mine,” shrugged Reznik, as he slipped the pipe back into his mouth. He drew on it, the end flaring orange as the tobacco burned and sweet smelling smoke rose into the air.

“ Tell me Reznik, why had I not seen the brother knights in the village before. I have had a good look around Aftlain but saw nothing of them.”

“ They don’t live here, that’s why,” explained Reznik. Thaindire looked away from the soldier, towards the church and he could just make out an orange dot, which then vanished from view as if extinguished.

“ Where do they live?” he asked.

“ No idea,” responded the soldier. “ They maintain order in the village, to the extent that any order must be maintained. Their main desire is the eradication of evil in whatever form it manifests. Quite the zealots about that.”

“ Do you believe that?” quizzed Thaindire as he returned his gaze to Reznik.

“ Matters not what I believe does it?”

“ Come on man, that girl drowned this evening, did she deserve to die?” questioned Thaindire. Reznik looked straight at Thaindire and chewed on his pipe.

“ Campion and the two brothers are instruments of their deity. They act in accordance with his decrees and preaching. They seek to maintain Aftlain’s reputation for tolerance and as you have witnessed, will do as they see fit, to protect the village and its inhabitants from any incursion into its peace.”

“ You haven’t answered my question, Reznik,” said Thaindire as he moved closer to the soldier.

“ Do you think Isabel Coffyn deserved to die?”

“ She didn’t deserve to live,” countered Reznik. Thaindire let out an exasperated cry.

“ Come here,” he urged and walked across the bridge to the gibbet. The grisly reminder was evident, picked out by the moonlight. Reznik followed Thaindire and stood next to him looking up at the cage and the skeleton inside.

“ Who was that?” demanded Thaindire jabbing a finger in the corpse’s direction.

“ A threat,” responded Reznik calmly.

“ Go on,” urged Thaindire waiting to hear if the explanation matched that of Kathryn’s earlier that day.

“ Look Thaindire, I know you are something of a lost soul in this village and you are clearly the type of man who must make sense of his surroundings. You prefer order, I understand that. Why don’t we leave the cold behind and go to my house for a brandy or two to warm up. The fire is lit and we can talk freely there. I can tell you about some of my soldiering if you like?” he laughed laying a hand on Thaindire’s shoulder.

“ Very well,” agreed Thaindire. He found Reznik something of an enigma within the village, almost as if he were set apart from it, although he happily embraced its ethos and relished his residence here.

“ Excellent,” grinned Reznik, “ I must warn you though, it won’t all be one way, I have much to ask of you too.” The pair turned and traversed the now empty bridge, the sound of the river below drifting up as they passed and made their way to Reznik’s home.

Two lanterns were already lit at the Reznik residence. Their guttering orange flames lit up the front door to the well-appointed house. Thaindire noted the property was made of stone and timber and occupied a prominent place on the western side of the village, affording a commanding view of the square before it. As they stood outside, Thaindire could hear the singing and laughter from within the Last One Inn, the villagers clearly content to celebrate the apparent unmasking of a witch in their midst. He looked across the square towards the tanner’s and saw firelight glowing in the windows. It was odd how Coffyn’s parents had not protested at their daughter’s capture and charge, but instead left her to her fate.

              Reznik turned the heavy iron handle causing Thaindire to note that the house had not been locked-up with Reznik absent from it.

“ Welcome to my home,” smiled Reznik as he stepped across the threshold and motioned for Thaindire to follow him. A blast of warmth greeted Thaindire on entry to the property. They entered a large room, which had an unlit chandelier of candles at its centre. Various rugs adorned the wooden floor, tapestries hung from the walls denoting mainly scenes of battle and warfare, in keeping with the occupation of its resident. A pair of sturdy halberds was fixed to the left wall, along which ran a sideboard. The room glowed from the fire, which burned in the substantial fireplace, which was on the right-hand side. It was evident that Reznik had done well for himself with his soldiering. He walked over to the sideboard and Thaindire followed. An assortment of corked bottles was placed on the top of the sideboard along with glasses that reflected the firelight. Reznik picked up two, turning them over, examining them and then placing them down as he reached for a bottle containing a yellow-brown liquid.

“ Toranic Brandy,” declared Reznik holding the bottle aloft. “ Gives you the swagger of a champion.” He uncorked the bottle and poured two healthy measures into the glasses before setting down the bottle and handing Thaindire one of the glasses.

“ What shall we drink to?” asked Reznik carefully considering Thaindire.

“ The truth,” responded Thaindire promptly.

“ Oh such irony,” he replied with a short laugh, “ to the truth.”

They clinked glasses and then drank. The liquid had a pleasant sweetness to it and as Thaindire swallowed the brandy’s warmth rose in his throat and chest.

“ Its good,” he remarked with a nod to the glass.

“ Mmm, indeed, should be, it costs enough.” Reznik indicated towards the two halberds that hung before them.

“ Took these as mementoes from the storming of Dalamar Citadel. My detachment of men engaged in ruthless, savage hand-to-hand combat across a narrow bridge to breach the citadel. The defending Alorians had set up with a company of pike men on the bridge and at first we could not get near to them as they thrust forward, disembowelling our troops or even just clean knocking them off the bridge to be dashed on the rocks below,” he explained eyes lit up as he recalled the encounter.

“Over time, their pikes and halberds became burdened with the weight of our dead so that they could not raise the weapons. This enabled us to get inside their range of thrust and engage them at close quarters. I have to say that for pike men they could fight savagely. They would give no quarter and the bridge became slippery with the blood of several hundred dead and wounded as the battle raged. We kept pouring forward, taking fire from their archers as we battled them all day, until we had annihilated everyone of them and we stood exhausted, bloodied but jubilant at their gates.” Reznik paused and took another swig of the brandy.

“ The eventual taking of the citadel actually appeared tame compared to the carnage on the bridge,” he added.

Thaindire glanced to the far wall and noted a doorway, which was closed. High up on the wall were a number of mounted heads of wolves. They varied in size and colour but were all set with their mouths opened snarling. Reznik observed Thaindire considering the trophies.

“ Ah, my collection of wolf heads. Shame you weren’t riding with me eh when you were attacked?” smiled Reznik.

“ Hmmm,” mused Thaindire.

“ I’ve killed hundreds of the bastards. I go out into the forest to hunt them. Three marks per head, which isn’t bad at all when winter is here and there is no call for my sword elsewhere. These just represent the different breeds of wolf. That first one,” Reznik pointed to a large white headed wolf, “ is, unsurprisingly a snow wolf. Have to go deep into the forest in winter to catch those and they are vicious things. The next one is a vile wolf; they have needle-like fangs, judging by your wounds I would say that is what attacked you.”

Thaindire remained silent as he sipped at the brandy whilst he looked along the row of heads that stared out into the room.

“ Then we have a black wolf, grey wolf and finally a carrion wolf. Anyway, I’m just showing off now, come, let’s sit down by the fire.”

They walked across the living room to two large chairs set either side of the blazing fire. A large shield was placed above the fireplace with two great swords across it. Reznik motioned for Thaindire to sit and he settled into the chair, which had its back to the front door. The warmth from the fire was welcome after the cold evening on the bridge. Reznik settled into his chair, holding the brandy glass cupped in his hands, momentarily staring into the dancing flames. The room was silent save from the pop and crack of firewood as it burnt. Thaindire lifted the glass to his lips again and savoured the brandy in his mouth before swallowing. Part of him wanted to relax, to let the encroaching warmth from the fire seep into his aching back and chilled limbs. To allow the effects of the brandy wash over him and numb him from the death of Coffyn and somehow ameliorate his guilt at not preventing her demise. His gaze flicked back to the solider and he focussed again. Whilst Reznik was acting most hospitably he knew he needed to remain vigilant with this enigmatic man and maintain his guard. Reznik seemed to regard him almost as some kind of sport and was mildly amused by Thaindire’s questioning rather than be suspicious of it. Thaindire looked to the mantelpiece and noticed two unnaturally large, black, metal gauntlets resting on it.

“ Are they yours?” he asked of the soldier.

“ No, no. Far too large for me. They belonged to, or rather, were part of, a death knight. He was called Veriaz Cangandaran. More trophies you see. That was a tough fight, I must admit. Seven feet tall, encased in armour and no corporal form you see. Didn’t bleed, no flesh to hack to pieces. He had travelled from the Shard of Misery with a company of conscripts and was marching on Cityport Deepfax, it being the gateway from the Shards. I was hired to head him off and defeat him by the Overlord of Deepfax whose pay helped me extend this house, as it happens. Desperate to stop him they were and he claimed many, many lives, but of course, not mine. Do you want to re-enact my fight with him, it is rather exciting?” asked Reznik.

“ Not especially,” answered Thaindire. His eyes looked over the other assorted weapons and armour that adorned the wall. It was a curious collection and no doubt a story was attached to each of the items, but he was tiring of Reznik’s bragging. He shifted in his chair and was about to frame a question when Reznik started again.

“ You know, this time last year I was returning from the Elant Hills,” spoke Reznik.

“ Oh yes, what were you doing there?” asked Thaindire.

“ Hunting down the Silver Duke, do you know of him?”

“Yes,” answered Thaindire, “ he had massacred several villages and defied the King’s authority before fleeing to the hills and their dark valleys.”

“ That’s right. I answered the call for assistance in tracking him down so he should be brought to justice.”

“ Did you succeed?” asked Thaindire mildly interested.

“ Not yet. We could not find him, Elant is a vast place and with the approach of winter we had to give up the hunt or most likely perish amidst the snow and ice. I have to admit we did not even come close to finding him although we did find further evidence of his atrocities. We found three hill settlements where every inhabitant had been beheaded and the settlement ransacked and torched. Many of my men believed the Silver Duke to actually be a demon who had become trapped in this land.”

“ Well, his actions are certainly demonic,” commented Thaindire, “ Will you resume the hunt come the spring?”

“ I doubt it,” replied Reznik, “ Aftlain needs more of my assistance, it is attracting more attention.”

“ Attracting more attention?” repeated Thaindire interested.

“ Yes. I should imagine that you have either been told by now, or rather have worked it out; you are a learned man after all, that Aftlain’s reputation for being a sanctuary for the misunderstood is growing.”

“ It has been made mention of.”

“ Precisely. With any burgeoning reputation comes the attention from the like-minded. Those who have found themselves to be cast out from their native towns and villages, who bring their skills and knowledge to Aftlain. They are most welcome in the village for it can only better the lives of all who reside here.”

“ So how does that equate to the village requiring more of your attention?” asked Thaindire.

“ Ah well, with those seeking asylum from persecution of course come the persecutors. Thankfully given our geography, these unwanted visitors do not overrun us but if we are not vigilant the occasional interloper will grow to become more regular intrusions. They will seek to destroy the village and its inhabitants as part of their persecution and this is what I help guard against,” explained Reznik. He emptied his glass and stood up.

“ Another?” he asked Thaindire who drained his own glass before he handed it to the waiting soldier with a nod.

“ Time to time the rest of the world decides it needs to look in on Aftlain. To investigate this village and decry the life that is lead here,” continued Reznik as he walked over to the sideboard and refreshed the two glasses.

“ Sadly, the world feels an overriding need to impose its will on us when it is wholly unnecessary.” Reznik returned to Thaindire and handed him his glass back, half-full with the brandy.

“ Perhaps the world is right,” offered Thaindire.

“ Oh, it believes itself to be right, that much is true. It acts with a great righteousness in sending its agents to spy upon the village doesn’t it?”

“ Does it?” replied Thaindire giving a confused frown.

Reznik drank again from his glass, intently watching Thaindire. He lowered the glass and placed it carefully on a small table besides his chair. He rose from the chair and made his way to the fireplace. Reznik reached for something, which was hung on the wall on the far left of the fireplace. Thaindire could not see what it was as the fireplace jutted out into the room and Reznik was half-obscured by shadow. Eventually he turned and presented a long sword, still in its scabbard. Thaindire’s eyes were drawn to the glinting sapphire set in the pommel. He fought to contain a rising anger and remained in his seat. Reznik smiled as he carefully placed his right hand around the hilt of the sword and pulled it from the concealing scabbard. The long sword silently slid from the sheath, the firelight flashing across the blade. Little by little the inscription on the blade was revealed. On the left hand side of the blade the words “ Sanctis Iudicium” were prominent. On the opposing side of the blade was the name “ Gabriel Vindicta”.

Thaindire jumped to his feet at sight of the holy long sword.

“ How in the One True God’s name did you come by this blade?” demanded Thaindire, his hand going to his sword hilt.

“ Another of my trophies,” replied Reznik, “ you can see I like my trophies. Why don’t you look on the wall behind you?” smiled Reznik as he remained standing, the long sword presented before him, as if he were offering a gift. Thaindire glanced behind him and then back at Reznik but the soldier had made no move. He looked again and saw that a long sword, similarly scabbarded was hung on the right hand side of the recess by the fireplace. The sparkle of a sapphire was all too evident, set in the pommel.

“ Go on, take a look,” urged Reznik. Thaindire set his glass on top of the fireplace and lifted the long sword from its position on the wall. A shudder passed through him as his hand wrapped around the hilt, moulding around the unusual casting of the hilt with a now returned familiarity. With his other hand he pulled on the scabbard so that the blade came free.

“ Sanctis Iudicium” he mouthed as the inscripted blade came into the firelight. His eyes flicked upwards and there on the opposite side of the polished blade were the words “ Samael Thaindire”.

Thaindire wheeled around, casting the scabbard to one side and raised his long sword, pointing at the soldier who stood with an amused expression on his face.

“ How did you get my sword?” demanded Thaindire.

“ Don’t you mean, how did we get your sword?” replied Reznik. He clicked the fingers of his hand and took a step backwards, still holding the other holy long sword. Thaindire drew breath sharply as two small figures stepped from out of the shadow of the doorway and advanced into the room. Wearing the uniforms, which he had witnessed during the assault days past, two imps entered the room. He heard a hiss from above and saw that two more were slowly descending the staircase into the living room. A solitary imp then appeared into view to Reznik’s left, its yellow eyes slanted and full of malice. Thaindire moved backwards, his sword still raised, ready to engage the threat. As if coalescing in the air two more imps made an appearance by the doorway and Thaindire found that Reznik and the uniformed imps encircled him.