The Fragile Fall At Tallow Bridge (The White Blood Chronicles Book 1) (29 page)

“ Never!” yelled Thaindire and he stepped forward, glittering sword raised.

“ As you wish,” replied Campion and he reached down to wrap his arm about the legs of Kendra and in one fluid movement he tipped her up and over the edge of the bell tower. Thaindire gripped the wall and watched as her naked body fell from the height and without a scream or cry, smashed onto a headstone below, breaking her body.

Thaindire returned his attention to Campion who stood naked before him, the tail occasionally appearing as it flicked back and forth.

“ Now you are mine,” uttered Thaindire and he made his way forward. Campion hopped backwards with startling dexterity and balanced on the wall, squatting as he faced Campion.

“ Not this time witch finder,” he replied with a manic grin. The leathery wings on his back unfolded several times until a substantial wingspan appeared. He somersaulted backwards and disappeared from view. Thaindire dashed to the far wall of the bell tower and looked over. He just about caught sight of the beating wings as the demon flew over the churchyard but then he became lost against the darkness of the forest beyond. Thaindire snatched up the lantern and held it high in case this was a ruse by Campion and he was flying back to attack him, but the rays of the lantern light picked out nothing. Thaindire cursed under his breath and looked out across the forest as a cackling laugh drifted to him from the darkness. His jaw jutting out, Thaindire paused in consideration and then made to the stairs and began to descend them back into the church.

              Thaindire entered the main part of the church once again. It was still bathed in the bloody light and he gave a shudder as his eyes fell upon the tapestry hung over the altar. He reached up and with a violent tug, pulled the tapestry from its hangings, letting it crumple to the ground. Thaindire contemplated searching the church but dismissed this action fearing that Campion might return and suitably reinforced. No, he was better served by returning to the tavern and hoping that Priestcote had delivered by now on her promise. He turned and strode over the still corpse of Stafford, his spilled blood gleaming in the candlelight. At the door, Thaindire stepped outside and held up the lantern to ascertain if anybody was in the churchyard. The orange light showed the vicinity to be empty and reassured he made his way to the gate and the road beyond.

              The dark trees overhung the narrow road as he walked back down to the village. Thaindire kept glancing skyward anticipating a swooping Campion to assault him, but there was no sign of the demon. There was no doubt in Thaindire’s mind that the entire village was under the charismatic, if unholy, influence of Campion and haven or not, darkness lurked at every turn in Aftlain. Thaindire walked quickly, sword drawn in one hand and lantern held in the other as he soon reached the Tallow Bridge. Ahead, he espied a couple of figures stood to the right on the bridge and he slowed his pace to ascertain whom it was. The couple paid him no attention for it was a young boy and girl locked in a lover’s embrace, too wrapped up in their own pleasure to observe the witch finder as he walked by. Thaindire picked up the pace of his stride once more, his breath forming in clouds before him as he entered the square. He saw a figure cross from the southern side, making for the tavern and as he rounded Reznik’s residence, light blazed from the two ground floor windows but fortunately there was no sign of the soldier.

              Relieved, Thaindire pushed open the door of the Last One Inn. As was the usual case, the pub was busy, the villagers enjoying another evening of conversation and ale. Thaindire cast his gaze about the tavern anticipating wary glances and even the possibility of attack, but he was barely noticed other than a couple of greetings from those nearest to him as he passed through the bar and made his way up the staircase to his lodging room. As soon as he entered, he quickly closed the door behind him and darted across to his bed, lowering himself to the floor he looked underneath and let out an anxious sigh at the sight of the bottle. Plucking it with his left hand he sat on the bed and examined the glass vial. It was a vague triangular shape with a cork stopper and inside was a clear, slightly viscous liquid, which he swilled slowly from side to side. A label stuck to the glass declared “Aqua Fortis” and Thaindire mouthed his thanks to Priestcote at delivering the valuable commodity to him. He stooped and slipped it back under the bed and then sat staring at the already lit fireplace. Ought he seek to escape now? He had no way of knowing what the reaction of the village would now be given that he was aware of Campion’s dark and infernal secret and that supported him making good his departure immediately. Furthermore, the cover of night would assist him in stealing a mount and leaving the village. His considerable concern however was riding at night. The moon was absent, masked by the clouded sky and even if he took the lantern with him it would not light up the road sufficiently to allow a safe passage. The last thing he required was to manage to flee the village only for him to fall from his mount or the house to be lamed leaving him either injured or on foot. The temptation to leave that instant was great but he fought the feeling down knowing that he needed the light of day to make his journey swifter and safer.

              He stood and paced across to the fireplace to warm himself, enjoying the heat on his back and the rear of his thighs as he unclipped his cloak and placed it over the nearby rack. His thoughts turned to the night ahead of him. He was loathe to stay awake all night as he needed rest if he was to ride hard the following day. Instead, Thaindire decided he would jam the spare sword, which he had bought from the smith, under the door handle to impede anyone trying to enter and at the very least they would awaken him if they sought to smash the door down and he would sleep with his holy blade beside him. He took the sword from its scabbard and noted its was still marked with the verger’s blood as he recalled running the Priest’s assistant through. Thaindire wondered what the demon priest was doing now. Had he returned to the church to cover up the trappings of his foul behaviour or was he gathering his ungodly village allies about him to come for Thaindire?

              His door suddenly burst open and he leapt forward, sword raised as Kathryn entered without announcement, as was her wont.

“ Goodness Samael, its only me,” she exclaimed being faced with the blood-smeared blade.

“ When will you learn to knock?” snapped Thaindire lowering the sword. He moved away from the fire so he could look beyond the landlord’s daughter but could see nobody else lurking. She closed the door and smiled.

“ Where have you been today, nobody knew where you were when I asked?”

“ Oh, I have been out hunting with Captain Reznik,” he replied.

“ Ah, wolf hunting?” she queried pointing at the blood on his sword.

“ Yes, that’s right.”

“ How did you fare? Slay many?” she asked.

“ Eighteen in all.”

“ Wonderful. It all makes the village a safer place doesn’t it?”

Thaindire nodded still holding his sword, the pommel emitting a low blue glow.

“ I wondered if you wanted to come downstairs for something to eat and drink since you have been busy all day?” asked Kathryn.

“ I am rather tired if you must know, would you bring something to me?” requested Thaindire.

“ Why, by all means, I shall go and get it for you now,” she confirmed and spun away leaving Thaindire on his own once again.

              Kathryn soon returned bearing a tray laden with a flagon of ale, bread and a large bowl of a meaty broth, which smelled most inviting. Thaindire had not realised how hungry he had become and sat dipping the bread in the thick broth, relishing the chunks as he popped them in his mouth and chewed.

“ How did your back fare whilst you hunted?” asked Kathryn perching on the bed besides Thaindire. One of her distinctive scents washed over him, competing with the aroma of the broth, but winning out eventually, the smell of citrus becoming all pervading.

“ Fine thank you,” replied Thaindire in between mouthfuls.

“ Good. You will probably need some more ointment applied in the morning and you need to drink this,” declared Kathryn producing a small bottle containing a blue liquid from the folds of her skirt.

“ What’s that? “

“ The tincture you have had.”

Thaindire shook his head.

“ There’s no need for it, the ointment will do.”

“ Oh, suddenly a physician are we?” remarked Kathryn.

“ No, I just don’t think it is necessary,” replied Thaindire wary of drinking anything, which might dull his senses and extend his slumber.

“ Come now Samael, you need to recover and this is the best medicine for you,” she urged.

Thaindire halted eating and looked at Kathryn. He saw nothing but well meaning expressed on her face.

“ Very well, leave it here, I will take it after I have eaten, not during, it will spoil the meal.”

“ Good, good,” she smiled and placed the small bottle on the mantelpiece.

“ Will you be joining me tonight, will you come to my bed?” she suddenly asked without any hint of embarrassment.

Oddly, Thaindire found the prospect of the warmth of another somewhat appealing. The day in the forest had set a chill in his bones, which the fire in the grate was having a difficulty in dispelling; either that or his encounter with Campion had iced his blood. He glanced up at Kathryn who looked back at him, eyes expectant and delicious, inviting mouth slightly parted, those full, luscious lips ready to caress and arouse. He found himself picturing them bound together, wrapped up in one another on her bed, the room aglow from her candlelight, the air rich with her many scents and a strange yearning rose within him. He found himself craving the gentle touch of her delicate hands, the feel of her thighs about him, her whispered breath in his ear. He shook his head trying to dispel the image that had formed in his mind. She was clearly placing those images there as she sought to enchant him.

“ Come to me,” urged Kathryn once again.

Thaindire wanted to reject her, to tell her no for it was contrary to what he had pledged when joining the Order. He had forsaken any flesh-based pleasure for it was a weakness and one, which the enemy would deploy in order to distract and destroy. Notwithstanding this, he found he was unable to say no to her. Pulsing warmth grew within him and his consciousness was invaded by the prospect of enjoying her. Thaindire breathed in deeply as Kathryn moved across the room towards him, one hand outstretched and she pushed it through the white locks on his head. The sensation felt light and pleasant and before he knew it, he had leant his face against the soft warmth of her stomach and she was slowly letting her fingers run through his hair.

“ Come and be mine Samael,” she whispered. Thaindire felt his eyes closing, the warmth continuing to rise and her scent overpowering him. How delicious it would be to lie with her and let the aching of his back be alleviated by her sensual ministrations. He savoured her closeness and the promise of more, feeling himself relaxing.

“ Join me,” she purred.

Thaindire’s eyes snapped open.

“ Join me,” Just as Campion had beseeched him. The thought of the demon priest shattered the tranquillity and warmth and he pulled his head away from the caress of Kathryn.

“ What is it?” she asked.

“ Nothing, I need to finish my meal and get some rest after a day in the forest. I may come to you later though,” he replied noticing that he was still unable to reject her entirely. Priestcote was right. The attempts to bind him to the village grew stronger.

“ I do hope so. Very well, I shall leave you be my handsome man.”

She bent down and kissed him on the cheek, letting her lips linger before she made for the door and left.

Thaindire exhaled hard troubled at what had come over him. The heat had receded and his head began to clear. Promptly he completed his meal and then made for the mantelpiece and the tincture. He picked the small glass bottle up, regarding its contents as he turned the bottle between his fingers. He pulled out the cork and poured the contents into the fire, watching with a satisfied smile as steam rose and the liquid, whatever it was, evaporated. Thaindire then took the second sword, jammed it under the door handle and made for his bed. He would sleep fully clothed, sword at the ready, in case Campion and his acolytes decided to pay him a visit. Thaindire issued a yawn, a sweeping tiredness overcoming him as he lay staring into the flickering flames of the fire. Tomorrow he would leave Aftlain. None of this village’s corrupted souls would stand in his way.

A banging on his door woke Thaindire. He sat up and grabbed for his sword. The room was light and day had finally arrived. His gaze went to the door where the second sword remained in place. The banging came again and a voice was calling his name on the other side of the door. He swung his legs around, grimacing at the stiffness in his body and awkwardly made his way to the door, kicking the sword out from its holding position and opening the door. Kathryn stood facing him, a tray tucked under one arm and her other arm raised ready to bray on the door again.

“ Oh, there you are,” she declared pushing past him and into the room to set his breakfast down on the seat beside the bed.

“ Yes, here I am,” answered Thaindire. He left the door open hoping that Kathryn would take the hint and leave him to wake properly.

“ Why wouldn’t the door open?” she asked placing her hands on her hips.

“ Must have jammed,” answered Thaindire avoiding her gaze and returning to the bed. Tentatively, he lowered himself trying to mask the stiffness as he did so but it did not fool Kathryn.

“ Still paining you?” she asked.

“ Just a little morning stiffness,” he replied.

“ I will fetch you the ointment in a short while but first I have news.”

Thaindire looked up quizzically.

“ What is it?”

“ That bitch Kendra has had her comeuppance,” smiled Kathryn triumphantly. Thaindire remained silent waiting to ascertain what Kathryn knew.

“ She was found in the churchyard this morning by the sexton. Threw herself from the bell tower. Found broken in the churchyard below,” she explained.

“ Threw herself?” repeated Thaindire.

“ Yes, suicide,” commented Kathryn raising her eyebrows. “ Seems even she had had her enough of her waywardness.”

“ How do you know it was suicide?” asked Thaindire. Kathryn frowned and gave him a confused look.

“ Well, how else do you think she got there? She jumped off the tower. Sexton said she was a right mess, so obviously had fallen from a height.”

“ That’s terrible,” said Thaindire slowly.

“ Huh, I don’t think so.”

“ Come now Kathryn, a woman has lost her life,” chided Thaindire.

“ She was no woman, she was a whore,” spat Kathryn. Thaindire said no more as he was not in the mood for debating the morality of Kendra Leventhorp.

“ What will become of her?” asked Thaindire.

“ She will fall from Tallow Bridge into the water to cleanse her sins and then the river will take her, I guess.”

Thaindire gave a thoughtful nod.

He reached for his breakfast as Kathryn looked out of the window.

“ Well, you enjoy breakfast, I need to go and tell Martha about what has happened so I shall go and do that while you eat and I will return and see to your back. “

“ Very well,“ answered Thaindire.

As soon as she was gone, he got down on his hands and knees and extracted the vial of Aqua Fortis and his rolled-up parchments and placed them on the chair seat. Hurriedly, he pulled on his boots, trying to ignore the protests of his back. He had heard no chimes yet from the church bell and was thus unaware as to the time but knew now that it was light he could not waste any time.  Clipping on his cloak, he then buckled on his sword and snatched up the vial and parchments, tucking the latter into his belt to his side so his cloak would conceal them. Cautiously, he opened the door and looked out onto the landing. It was empty. He stepped out of his room and headed down the stairs onto the lower landing. He looked first to Kathryn’s door and then to the room where Lancaster resided, expecting either or both to open, but they did not and he continued on down the stairs. On entering the bar area he found it empty, the Dromgoole family doubtless busy elsewhere about the tavern. Quickly, he made his way to the door and outside.

              Another cold morning greeted him, the air pinching his face. The sky remained flat and grey as the day beforehand. He looked across the square, which was just coming to life, the stores opening across on the other side. Thaindire turned to his right and walked across the front of the tavern before darting down the alleyway next to it. Carefully he made his way to the rear of the inn so he was able to look over the rear yard and the stables. Benjamin Dromgoole came into view, pushing a barrel along with his foot, the cask of ale rumbling over the ground as he grunted with the exertion. The landlord passed out of view but he could hear him talking to somebody. Thaindire glanced behind him but the alleyway remained empty. The talking halted and Thomas Dromgoole walked forward and into the stables. Thaindire waited a moment to see if he re-appeared but he did not. Peering around the corner, Thaindire could not see anybody else in the yard and decided to press forward. He ran across the yard and into the stables almost banging into a surprised younger Dromgoole.

              With a flourish, Thaindire had his sword drawn and pointed at the youngster’s throat. He stared back, eyes wide with anxiety.

“ Not a word boy, “ hissed Thaindire, “ Or I will drive this sword into your throat. Understand?”

The youth nodded his eyes still fixed on Thaindire.

“ Good,” Thaindire responded. He glanced to his left and saw a horse in one of the bays. It looked able enough and he had not the time to be comparing mounts.

“ Saddle and tack this horse, do it quick and keep quiet,” ordered Thaindire.

Thomas Dromgoole nodded again and edged his way into the bay as Thaindire kept his sword levelled at the younger man. With shaking hands, Dromgoole gathered the saddle from off the wall and placed it across the horse, which shifted slightly but remained silent.

“ Hurry up,” urged Thaindire as he cast anxious looks to the door of the stable lest anybody appear.

Dromgoole arranged the harness and tack, moving about the horse with Thaindire following his every move, sword ready to cut him down if he cried out. Once completed the youth turned back towards Thaindire.

“ Good, well done,” he praised. “ Now turn around.”

The boy’s eyes widened further and his eyes began to fill with tears.

“ Please don’t kill me,” he whispered, “ please.”

“ I’m not going to kill you,” replied Thaindire motioning with his hand holding the bottle for him to face away from the witch hunter. Thomas obeyed and once his back was towards him, Thaindire hefted his sword and brought the pommel down hard on the youth’s head. With a low groan, he crumpled forwards and collapsed into the straw.

              Thaindire replaced his blade in the scabbard and uncorked the bottle moving to the chain and manacle about the horse’s rear leg. Crouching down, Thaindire moved the bottle as close as possible to the metal and then poured, watching as the thick liquid slowly, ever so slowly, trickled down the neck of the bottle. The liquid collected for a moment at the bottle’s opening and then poured in a hanging line of fluid until it touched the metal. Instantly there was a hiss and wisps of smoke rose from the metal as it bubbled under the impact of the corrosive liquid. Thaindire allowed himself a smile as he kept pouring and watching the metal disintegrate. He coughed a few times, the acrid fumes from the reaction of the liquid and the metal, pungent and offensive to his lungs. Eventually, the chain fell away, just leaving the manacle about the horse’s leg. Thaindire dropped the bottle to the straw and took hold of the reins leading the horse from the bay to the stable’s double doors. He looked through the gap in them and saw an empty yard. Hurriedly, Thaindire opened the doors and pulled the horse out into the tavern’s yard before hauling himself up onto the steed. Slipping his feet into the stirrups, he sat up, shimmying into the saddle and giving a dig of his heels and a cry. The horse leapt forward as Benjamin Dromgoole appeared from the rear door of the tavern.

“ Hey! Hey! Come back!” he yelled ambling forward to try and intercept Thaindire but he was too slow and he raced past him headed for the alleyway and the square beyond. Dromgoole continued to run after Thaindire, exhorting him to return as the horse gathered speed, hooves clattering against the cobbles. Thaindire burst into the square, the sound of galloping causing the villagers across from him to turn and look. Immediately they began to yell, arms raised and started to run towards him.

“ Go on!” yelled Thaindire at the horse as he sped past the trees on the northwestern side of the square, where the Simulacrum’s residence was hidden away. Ahead was the gap where the exiting road awaited, ready to take him all the way back to Lancester, to his Order and to the gathering of reinforcements. The villagers charged across the square but were no match for the pace of the horse and within moments, Thaindire had reached the road, almost bare trees lining it either side. Thaindire glanced over his shoulder and saw a crowd of villagers halt at the neck of the road, fists being waved and impotent shouts issued in his direction.

“ Don’t worry you unbelievers, I will return!” he shouted back at them.

Thaindire turned back to the road ahead which twisted left and sloped upwards, before twisting to the right again, the trees thick and impenetrable on either side. He reckoned that if he rode the steed hard he would reach the Queens’ Inn within hours and he need not stop at that inn, as one would ordinarily do so. Instead he would ride on until he got to the Twin Moons Inn where he would have to rest overnight, but that should put sufficient distance between him and Aftlain.More to the point, it would have him in the company of those who were not Aftlainers and their wicked ways so that if anyone from the village did catch up with him, he could fight his way out if necessary and seek help by virtue of the authority of his Order which was well recognised.

              The thought of the Order gave him comfort and he patted the parchments containing the map and notes, which would form the basis of his report to his superiors and the foundation on which a Vanguard Presence would be dispatched to Aftlain to issue judgement. By the One True God, he savoured the arrest of Campion and the rounding-up of all the other practitioners of the dark crafts that lurked within the village, pretending it to be some haven of tolerance when it was very clear it was nothing more than a ruse to try and disguise the false god worshipping activity that went on there.

“ Nobody leaves Aftlain eh?” muttered Thaindire under his breath, well they had not reckoned with the determination and fortitude of Samael Thaindire.

              The road twisted back to the right and Thaindire pulled hard on the reins of his steed causing it to whinny and rear up slightly.

“ By the saints, but how?” he declared as the horse halted.

Thirty feet away stood Reznik in the middle of the road. His sword was already drawn and he held it raised. As ever, the Captain was clad in his uniform, black hat atop his head. Either side of him stood two ranks of the imps, Thaindire counted twenty in all. They tottered and swayed as if held by invisible reins, straining at them wanting to launch themselves at Thaindire. Thaindire steadied his horse and stared at the soldier and his underlings.

“ Stand aside Captain Reznik!” shouted Thaindire drawing his long sword. The pommel was already ablaze with light and the lightning was tracing the blade, coursing up and down it. Thaindire’s voice rang out through the freezing air.

“ Nobody leaves Aftlain,” replied Reznik.

“ I do, now stand aside or I shall cut you down,” retorted Thaindire waving his sword above his head. He wondered if he made Reznik his target and cut him down whether the imps would cease to function with their master dead. It seemed a reasonable conclusion to reach given the way they always obeyed the soldier. Thaindire gave a backwards look but the road behind was empty, the villagers had not followed.

“ Surrender Master Thaindire and you can return to Aftlain unharmed,” declared Reznik firmly. “ The village wants and needs you.”

“ I will not, now yield Captain Reznik or face the full wrath of the One True God. You shall know my judgement!” shouted Thaindire.

Reznik shook his head.

“ For the Order of Allsaints!” bellowed Thaindire and he jammed his heels in hard into the flanks of his mount. It whinnied and leapt forward carrying Thaindire towards the massed rank of imps and their leader.

“ Do not harm him,” he heard Reznik command as he galloped towards his foe. Thaindire held his sword aloft, the traces of energy curling about it, crackling and spitting, his cloak flowing behind him as the imps surged forward, a dark tide of malevolence. Their snarling and hissing filled the air as they shot forward with horrifying speed towards Thaindire and his steed. Reznik remained unmoved. Thaindire quickly realised that he would not reach the soldier before he and the imps collided, he only hoped his momentum would carry him through the imps and enable him to engage the Captain with one decapitating swipe of his blade.

              The imps were almost upon him, a group either side, none of them seeking to stand in the way of his charge. Closer they came, so he could see their evil, slit yellow eyes and beady pupils. One leapt high and bounded onto the horse’s neck in front of him, in a repeat of the assault when he was making his way to Aftlain. Thaindire swung and the arcing blade sliced straight through the imp, which immediately turned to dust. His horse cried out in pain as its legs buckled as the imps sliced all four legs at once, their talons raking deep into the flesh of the horse. Thaindire remained in the saddle as it went down, he pitched to the left and struck out at an imp nearby, his holy blade cleaving the foul creature through its head and it too turned into dust. Thaindire had no choice but to jump clear of the fallen steed or be trapped under it. He leapt to the left and landed on the dirt road, rolling over once and springing to his feet. Standing, he saw two imps slash the throat of the horse, two spurting jets of blood erupting from its torn throat as the fallen mount spasmed in its last paroxysms of life.