The Fragile Fall At Tallow Bridge (The White Blood Chronicles Book 1) (31 page)

Thaindire had not remained in his room for long. Whether it was the frustration at having had his escape thwarted or the fury he felt for Reznik still coursing through his body, he could not just sit cooped up within the bedroom. He had paced back and forth, ruminating on how he might depart Aftlain for he feared that it would now only seek to tighten its grip upon him in the hope that he would soon succumb to its influence. He had considered attending upon Priestcote in the hope that she might be forthcoming with some suggestion to enable him to make good his escape, but he reasoned that her cousin would be at her side and therefore she would be ineffective in any plans to flee. His thoughts had also turned to the mysterious Simulacrum who seemed to have some kind of extraordinary powers, given his, was it a him, ability to enable Metylda Meverel to grow a needle and thimble like her cousin and accordingly stay within the village. He contemplated what other powers he had within his gift but was alive to the condition placed on Priestcote by this strange figure and suspected that a similar price would be extracted from him, if he sought his assistance. Added to that, he remained loathe to seek the help of something which clearly engaged in unholy works albeit he sensed that in order to bring about the village’s capitulation to judgement, he may himself have to make some sacrifices in his beliefs. Worsening matters, he had no idea how to meet with the Simulacrum given the hostile manner in which he was treated by the forest near his home a few days earlier. Priestcote had made mention that it was necessary to be invited to meet the Simulacrum, but Thaindire was unsure how he would even achieve that. With these whirling thoughts and an overriding sensation of being frustrated he quit his room and strode down the stairs.

Unsurprisingly, as he alighted on the lower landing, the door to Lancaster’s room opened and the well-heeled man stepped out.

“ Master Thaindire, if I may have a moment,” he said causing Thaindire to halt his pacy descent.

“ Yes, what is it?” snapped Thaindire in irritation.

Lancaster hesitated, slightly taken aback at Thaindire’s manner. He ran a hand down his chest, smoothing the silk shirt that he wore.

“ I sense you are in a hurry, so I shall be direct.”

“ As you wish.”

“ I have need for your services.”

“ In what manner?” asked Thaindire.

“ As protector foremost and a general companion if you will.”

“ Protector? From what?” queried Thaindire.

“ Whatever seeks to harm me,” explained Lancaster. “ As you know, I am a man of considerable means and with that comes the attention of the disadvantaged and envious. I would be at much greater ease if I knew that it was your swordplay, which stood between injurious harm and me.”

“ And general companion?”

“ You are an intelligent man, Master Thaindire, not some grunting hard man who can only articulate through brute force. I enjoy discourse as well as the delights of the world,” he smiled at his last comment. “ I would welcome the opportunity to share that with someone of a like mind.”

“ Where would you have me undertake these, er duties?” asked Thaindire.

“ Well, initially here, in Aftlain, I am to stay a further week.”

“ And after that?”

“ To travel with me to Lancester and to what other engagements are arranged beyond that,” answered Lancaster.

“ How would you travel to Lancester?”

“ My coach and horses will arrive for me in a week.”

Thaindire hesitated at this unexpected opportunity to leave Aftlain.

“ I will pay you well and there are plenty of added benefits,” coaxed Lancaster. “ All I ask is for an oath of allegiance and our arrangement is secured.”

“ Oath of allegiance?” repeated Thaindire.

“ Yes, to protect me in all and every circumstance and such like and so forth,” commented Lancaster with a dismissive wave of his hand, “ Just a formality really.”

Thaindire glanced down towards his sword. The pommel stone did not glow. He brought his cloak around to obscure the weapon.

“ May I think on your kind proposition Master Lancaster?”

“ By all means, we have time yet and you know where to find me.”

“ Indeed, although it seems that it is you that always finds me,” commented Thaindire. Lancaster laughed and clapped his hands together.

“ I shall see you anon.,” he declared towards Thaindire’s retreating back as he continued his way down the stairs.

              He stepped out into the square feeling buoyed by this offer from Lancaster. This was a way out of the village. Surely he would not be stopped if he was with Lancaster? It was still seven days hence, but his resolve remained intact. All he had to do was to avoid this village’s overtures for that time period, depart on the coach of Lancaster and return to the Order. Soon a cadre of witch hunters would descend on Aftlain and lay low its unholy denizens. Thaindire set off walking towards the western side of the village as he contemplated bringing judgement to the village. A further week in the village would give him more time to try and unlock some its hidden secrets such as what was in the so far unfindable tower and what was it that the Homunculi were engaged in when they dived down into the depths of the well. Yes, all he needed to do was maintain his resistance to their attempts to succumb to the village’s desires and then ride out with Lancaster.

              He walked past the Captain’s residence but the soldier was thankfully absent. Thaindire has no wish for Reznik to crow over him following the earlier altercation. Thaindire recalled that he had previously intended a further visit to the miller’s house, but had been distracted from doing so and accordingly with renewed vigour he walked on up the road towards the bridge and the turning down to the river. As he reached the junction of the lane, Thaindire halted by the bakery, enjoying the delicious aromas, which wafted from the building. Up ahead he could see some figures congregated on the brow of the bridge. Intrigued, he parked attending on the miller for a moment and pressed on towards the gathering of people.

              There was a group of maybe a dozen people stood in a semi-circle on the bridge. They were positioned about Campion who was clad in his cassock, a bright turquoise surplice about his neck, looking far different from the naked, winged demon that Thaindire had witnessed the night before. He was saying something, although Thaindire could not yet discern what the words were as he walked closer. What caught Thaindire’s eye were the two villagers who were positioned at the edge of the bridge holding a figure between them, which was wrapped head to toe in white cloth. Thaindire joined those onlookers who encircled the scene.

“ And may we now commit our late sister Kendra Leventhorp to the cleansing waters of the River Centopani,” intoned Campion his right hand held aloft.

“ May those purifying waters wash away the sin that brought low our dear sister and purge her soul of the darkness that clung to her. Let the holy waters remove the stain of her ending and allow her soul to be freed from the clutches of evil so that it may rise to its rightful place in the heavens,” continued the priest, his baritone voice carrying over the cold air.

“ By all his saints and through his great mercy, we now commit dear Kendra Leventhorp to the Centopani,” he declared. He gave a nod and with a heave the two men tipped the bound corpse over the walled edge of the bridge. Thaindire moved to the wall and watched the body strike the rushing waters, before it began to be carried away on the torrent. He turned back and saw that the small gathering all had their heads bowed and hands clasped as if in prayer, except Campion who was regarding him with a condescending gaze and a twisted grin.

              The group raised their heads and immediately, Campion wiped the look from his face, adopting once more his façade of false piety.

“ Let us return to the church to light the Candles of Redemption for our departed sister and offer our prayers for her safe cleansing and passage,” he announced before turning and leading the throng of villagers away towards the church.

              Thaindire shook his head at Campion’s hypocrisy and looked back at the river. The white shroud of Kendra Leventhorp was now gone, lost to the churning waters of the River Centopani. He wondered who else would end up dispatched to the frothing river, either as a corpse like Leventhorp or as a falsely accused witch as was Isabel Coffyn. No doubt Priest Campion held others in his sway who he treated with impunity and who he disregarded with such arrogance. Thaindire felt the rage rise within him, savouring the opportunity to drive his holy blade deep into the bowels of the demon priest and consign him to oblivion. A blast of cold wind buffeted Thaindire, as he stood, now alone, on the bridge, his cloak billowing around him. His white hair whipped in the air and he reached up to smooth it back into place, his eyes narrowing as he watched Campion and his acolytes walk slowly up the sloping road to the church beyond. Thaindire whispered his own prayer for the slaughtered girl and then turned away from the bridge and made his way towards the lane down to the mill.

              The lane was empty, the trees, as ever, pressed tight either side as the forest sought to encroach upon and indeed swallow up the narrow route down to the river’s edge. As the mill came into view across the opening beyond the lane, Thaindire was drawn to a scene of activity on the riverbank. Three people stood by the edge of the water, their backs to him, though he recognised the frame of the miller, his wife, but not the third individual. They were busy watching the river where Thaindire could see the white bound corpse of Leventhorp moving through the water towards the waiting trio. Thaindire quickened his pace, taking large strides across the grassed embankment. He drew closer and could now make out eight small heads surrounding the corpse, bobbing up and down in the water. There was no mistaking the baldheads and flat, silver-eyed expressions as a group of Homunculi steered Leventhorp’s body through the water. The miller reached out with a boat hook and caught hold of the corpse, steadying himself as the river tried to keep its prize. He hauled the shaft of the boat hook through his hands, pulling the body closer to him as the Homunculi continued to swim. Presently, the body was parallel to the bank and all three of the waiting figures reached down and hefted it out of the water so that it was laid on the grass, water trickling from it. One by one, the tiny Homunculi exited the river, rivulets of water running down them, as they stood to one side, motionless.

“ What is going on here?” cried Thaindire.

All stood before him spun around at his question and Thaindire saw that the third figure was female, long brown hair falling around an oval shaped face whose eyes shifted from surprise to malice at Thaindire’s intervention.

“ Get it inside Hugh!” yelled the female. The miller motioned at the Homunculi who swarmed about the corpse, picking it up with their tiny yet strong hands.

“ What are you doing with this corpse?” demanded Thaindire stepping forward. The miller’s wife scurried away towards her house as Maunsell urged the Homunculi to hurry with their parcel of the body, only the third of the trio remained to confront Thaindire.

“ No further Witch Hunter,” spat the figure.

“ Who are you?”

“ Harriet Alluvior and I told you to come no further,” warned the woman again. Thaindire looked over her shoulder and he could see that the tiny men and their load were almost at the door of the mill, where the miller’s wife stood urging them to hurry with a frantic waving of her hands. The miller had stopped his retreat and stood halfway between his home and the advancing Thaindire as if uncertain whether to depart or remain with Alluvior.

“ What is your business with the body of Kendra Leventhorp, I demand to know. She had been committed to the river,” asked Thaindire as he continued to near the woman.

“ I warned you,” she said and waved her hands as if pushing something whilst crying out words that made no sense to Thaindire. A jet of water suddenly burst from the river and arced through the air slamming into Thaindire. He gasped as the cold, wet pillar of water crashed against him, knocking him off his feet and sending him skidding backwards. The concentration of water abated as swiftly as it had formed. Thaindire pushed his hair back, now slick with the water as he got to his feet. He drew his long sword, the pommel ablaze with a pulsing blue light.

“ Go Hugh go,” urged Alluvior as the miller looked on, still paralysed with indecision. The woman’s exhortation broke Maunsell from his frozen state and he turned and ran for the mill, his wife still stood at the door watching the confrontation.

Thaindire bore down on Alluvior as she repeated the movement with her hands and uttered her foul incantation. Thaindire saw the second pillar of water leap from the river. He pulled his cloak up and in front of him, as if to shield him from the torrent of liquid. The force of water struck the outstretched material, pounding against it and bouncing off the cloak. Thaindire kept his footing, remaining motionless as the weight of the water continued to batter him. The pressure faded and he lowered his cloak to see that Alluvior had opted to flee and was running away, not to the mill whose door was now closed, but rather alongside the mill, her dress flapping as she sprinted.

              Thaindire immediately gave chase ignoring the miller and the host of Homunculi for now. He tore along a slight path that ran besides the mill and which then twisted up and away from the riverbank very steeply. Alluvior was certainly quick on her feet and she had already reached the top of the path. She halted momentarily and looked back down at Thaindire as he approached before she turned and disappeared from sight. The path rose up, following the same pattern as the riverbank, which created a gorge similar to the stretch of river by Tallow Bridge. Thaindire reached the top of the path and saw Alluvior still running away ahead of him. The path was now cut into the towering riverbank, which continued onwards and upwards above him. He glanced down at the river below, which was some thirty feet below him, the waters churning as they swiftly flowed by. Beyond Alluvior, Thaindire could see some kind of dwelling, which clung precariously onto the side of the embankment and looked as if it had actually been carved out of the rock itself. He ran once again, wary of missing his footing and falling into the river below. This caution slowed him somewhat and Alluvior opened up the gap between the two of them.