The Fragile Fall At Tallow Bridge (The White Blood Chronicles Book 1) (28 page)

“ You have worked for the Order? “

“ Certainly have.”

“ In what way? How?” asked Thaindire surprised. Reznik stopped and turned around to face the younger man. He toked on his pipe; the end glowing orange and then spoke,

“ Ah, Eustace Reznik is too wily to go revealing his actions to a member of the Order only for that member to report that I have broken the terms of my payment. Last thing I want is a finder descending on Aftlain seeking me out,” he returned the pipe to his mouth. Thaindire considered telling him that it wouldn’t matter, as a suitable Vanguard Presence would be attending on the village as soon as he was able to report back in Lancester but decided against displaying such arrogance. Reznik turned and began walking on again. Thaindire hurried his step drawing along side the solider.

“ Had any more thoughts about my offer?” asked Reznik. “ Why spend the rest of your life ordered about and despatched on wearisome engagements when you could stay in the village and live as a Lord, keeping order and protecting the place, in tandem with me?”

“ You are very keen to recruit me, why?” responded Thaindire.

“ You are an expert with the blade and moreover having a witch finder protecting the village from the dark ways would be quite a boon. Father Campion would be delighted to have the assistance of your powers of detection; in fact, you should attend on him later this day, after we have finished hunting. He wants to speak with you.”

“ What does he want?”

“ Probably to entreat you to join us, I would imagine.”

“ There seems little point in such a conversation.”

“ You may think that now, but you ought to give him the courtesy of an audience.”

“ I shall bear it in mind,” answered Thaindire.

“ Aha, prey,” commented Reznik putting his hand out to stop Thaindire moving forward.

              The pathway widened ahead of them, sweeping down to embrace the riverbank. On the opposite bank there was the familiar wall of trees, the dark trunks packed tightly together. Thaindire counted six of the beasts at the river’s edge, lapping at the water, the grey coats matching the colour of the sky above them. Their intermittent low growls were just about audible as they padded about the riverbank.

Thaindire reached for his already-loaded crossbow and brought it up before him, taking aim at a wolf on the right flank. He saw Reznik crouching, advancing away to the left, his crossbow also sighted on the small pack of wolves. Adjusting his aim, Thaindire pulled on the trigger of the crossbow and the deadly bolt raced through the air slamming into the hindquarters of the wolf. It let out a pained yelp and thrashed around, squirming with pain. A second wolf crumpled in a heap as Reznik fired a kill shot. Thaindire glanced down, reaching for a second bolt.

“ No time for that,” yelled Reznik, causing Thaindire to look up. The rest of the pack had turned and having sighted the two men were charging up the gentle slope of the path towards them. Thaindire threw his crossbow over his back and unsheathed his blade. All five of the remaining wolves were making for him, including the one he had wounded, its fur matted with the blood spilling from the wound. The lead wolf tumbled to the ground, bowling over before coming to a halt, a black bolt wedged in its head. The guttural snarls became louder as the wolves attacked Thaindire, the wolf that had taken over the lead, leapt into the air, filling Thaindire’s view with a malevolent mass of muscled fur and a snapping, snarling mouth. Deftly he lopped off the wolf’s head, causing a jet of blood to arc through the air, the still twitching body slamming to the grass, the red blood pumping onto the silver frosted floor. The next wolf was on him before he had time to react and it hammered into him, knocking the breath from out of him. He crashed backwards landing on his back, a spasm of pain erupting from his old injury. The fetid breath of the wolf filled his nostrils as its face lunged at him, its forepaws pressing down heavily on his chest, pinning him to the forest floor. He brought up his left arm, his cloak wrapped around it, to try and protect his face as the jaws of the wolf clamped around his left forearm. The grip was strong and he waited for the sharp piercing pain of the teeth breaking his tunic and skin, but none came, instead there was just the crushing pain of the jaws about his arm. Thaindire swung and drove the sword into the wolf’s ribcage, he felt the heat of the blood dash against his right hand as the beast hissed and growled. Harder he pushed, thrusting his blade deep into the animal’s innards. He heard Reznik yell and then the pressure on his arm receded to be replaced by the weight of the wolf slumping on him. Thaindire twisted and pushed the wolf away from him, with some help from Reznik who hauled the dead creature off him.

“ How fares you?” asked the soldier as Thaindire got to his feet. Reznik’s eyes were glowing with excitement; blood had sprayed across his face, patterning his enthusiastic features.

“ Well, thank you,” answered Thaindire sheathing his sword and rubbing at his left forearm. He examined it and saw no puncture wounds; there was only the slight indentation of the teeth in the material of his tunic. He pulled his cloak around and similarly inspected it, but there were no holes or tears in it.

“ Are you unharmed?” asked Thaindire of Reznik. He nodded eagerly.

Thaindire could see the slain wolves, steam rising from their still bodies into the frozen air. His own breath came in ragged clouds as smoothed down his tunic and walked down to the water’s edge, leaving Reznik to collect his forepaw trophies. The river was around thirty yards in width and the flow was fast judging by the speed at which branches moved along in the water. He knelt and scooped up the freezing water in his hands, splashing his face and gasping at the cold. Standing, he wondered what had caused the path to the river and why it ended here. He looked upstream until the encroaching trees, which hanged over the river, obscured his view leaning in from the bank.

“ Well fought,” said Reznik joining him at the river’s edge.

“ You too.” responded Thaindire. “ I take it this leads to the village?” asked Thaindire pointing downstream.

“ Aye, it does. I wouldn’t try swimming it, if the cold does not take you, the drop over the fury falls will smash you to pieces,” cautioned Reznik.

“ How far are we from the village?”

“ Hmm, probably five miles.”

“ How large is the forest?”

“ Too vast to measure and too dark to venture into,” answered the soldier. “ Come on, it is time we headed back to Aftlain, otherwise we will be caught in the dark in the forest and that isn’t to be recommended. “

“ Why not?” asked Thaindire wondering what dark creatures prowled the forest once the canopy of night had fallen.

“ Because we won’t be able to see where we are going and we will end up lost,” replied Reznik with a short laugh. He patted his bag and set-off back up the pathway causing Thaindire to follow.

The return journey through the Forest of Centopani took them nigh on two hours and was uneventful. They encountered no further wolves and Thaindire mused on how Reznik knew exactly where to find the wolves but his enquiry about this unnatural ability was only met with Reznik explaining that he had a skill at sniffing out wolves. On their way back towards Aftlain, Reznik regaled Thaindire with tales of his soldiering exploits and Thaindire wondered how many, if any, were linked to decrees from the Order. Reznik was quite the storyteller, recounting with considerable relish the Battle of Onjuri where he had fought a running battle through the forest after he had become lost and stumbled behind enemy lines. His tale about the Obsidian Mesa was most dramatic as two armies battled in the dust plains, in the shadow on the huge monolith that was the mesa. Reznik explained how the dust plain became churned into mud with the blood of the slain and injured, a red, cloying mass that dragged men screaming into suffocation before their foes could dispatch them. Reznik tried to press Thaindire into recounting some of his missions but Thaindire batted back the questions without revealing anything of the tasks that he had been set and more importantly discharged on behalf of his Order. He ignored Reznik’s teasing of his recalcitrance and instead invited Reznik to provide more of his boasts, which the solider was happy to do, embarking on a lengthy recollection of his leading a detachment of mercenaries through the Three Scars hunting down a necromancer. Thaindire found the tale of Reznik’s band battling newly risen corpses quite unsavoury yet fascinating and he felt that his was quite possibly a decree from the Order, to dispense with such a proponent of evil as the necromancer.

              As the cold increased, causing Thaindire to rub his hands together and his nose to feel numb, Reznik bade him follow the soldier as the forest closed ranks before them. Through the chill, silver wall of bark Reznik pushed and Thaindire followed in his footsteps until they burst out into the ginnel once more. The sky was beginning to darken, the light fading as the day came to its conclusion.

“ Well, thank you for your help,” smiled Reznik giving the bag full of severed forepaws a shake. “ I will collect our bounty and see to it that you get your share. “

Thaindire nodded.

“ Care for a drink?” offered Reznik his face crusted with dried blood, giving him a savage appearance.

“ No, I think I will attend on Father Campion and see what he has to say for himself,” replied Thaindire.

“ Good man,” answered Reznik with a grin. “ I’m going home to get warm beside my fire and enjoy a few brandies after that excursion. Feel free to call by later if you wish.”

Thaindire found Reznik’s friendliness towards him incongruous, given their respective professions and moreover a few hours earlier he had levelled a crossbow at the soldier, yet Reznik did not seem to care and was intent on getting Thaindire to sign up to work beside him.

“ I might do that,” answered Thaindire, “ Fare ye well.”

“ And you.”

Thaindire strode through the dim light of the ginnel until he reached the roadway. He saw the farrier disappearing into his home as a light flared up in the window of the house opposite him. Rubbing his chin, Thaindire turned left to walk across the bridge and up the hill to the church and to where Priest Campion apparently waited, the sound of cawing suddenly filling the air as the ravens in the trees to his right made their presence known.

Thaindire passed through the gateway to the churchyard, having strolled up the hill from the village. He halted and looked about the yard to see if Talvace was lurking in a grave or behind a headstone somewhere, but there was no sign of the gravedigger. The early evening air was cold against his face and the day’s light was fading quickly, the sky darkening, still a mass of impenetrable cloud. A pair of crows alighted on a leaning headstone near him and cocked their heads as if regarding him. Thaindire wondered what Priest Campion wanted with him. He felt it was necessary to maintain his vigilance, as he had no regard or trust for the false holy man after his performance at the Tallow Bridge. There was little doubt that the priest was most charming and had the village held sway under his unnatural spell, but Thaindire would not be party to such blind devotion. He looked back at the two crows as their small eyes glinted inquisitively in the last of the light before Thaindire pressed on towards the church. He noticed a low red light from the stained glass windows as he approached the building. It could not be the reflection of the setting sun, for the cloud had blocked out the sun all day and instead must be coming from inside the church. Curious, he strode up the stone steps and reached for the main door to the church. Grasping the handle he turned it and was surprised to find it yield enabling him to open the wooden door and enter the church.

              Thaindire stepped forward, through the porch and into the main body of the church and then halted at the edge of the rows of pews laid out before him. His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him. Set upon large black singular stands were twelve thick red candles. Six were placed either side of the altar. The melting wax slowly trickled down the candles, forming bobbles and strands against the substantial candles, which were easily three feet in height. What caught Thaindire’s breath was that the flame that was given off from them was not a guttering yellow but instead a blood red flame that burned steadily, creating a wash of red across the altar and its environs. Thaindire detected the scent of a heavy spice but could not place exactly what it was. A gentle hiss emanated from the candles as they burned, the rest of the church perfectly still. Hanging above the altar was a large tapestry. The background of it appeared to be red also, although this might have been the effect of the candlelight, Thaindire could not tell. Woven into the tapestry was a metallic thread, possibly silver, which glinted and flashed in the light, depicting some kind of symbol. The symbol was a single eye, which was open, staring out across the church in silent observation, the pupil wide and circular. Jutting from the top of the eye was some kind of spear or lance, the end of it pommel-like and spherical. It had an ornate shaft before it ran smooth and straight downwards to pierce the top of the eye. The end of the spear emerged from the bottom of the eye, sharp and with blood dripping from the end of the point. Thaindire frowned at the terrible image. This was the symbol of Selne, the dark god of blood and sacrifice. So, this was the true nature of the priest’s belief. He was a charlatan, maintaining the pretence that he was one of the One True God’s clergy. Instead, he worshipped Selne. No doubt this was what held the village in its foul grip. The village was corrupted by this false god and worst of all, one of its priests lorded over the village. The need to exterminate the village had increased further. He saw three chalices placed on top of the altar, gems set into the metal and evidently of expense. Placed beneath the altar was a bed of plump-looking cushions fashioned from a deep red material. They were piled across the front of the altar and would easily accommodate several people. What in the One True God’s name had he happened upon here? Was this the purpose of Campion’s invitation to him, although the priest had no confirmation that Thaindire would be attending upon him or was it coincidence that enabled him to come upon this ungodly scene?

              A click echoed from beyond the altar and Thaindire scurried behind a pillar pressing himself against it, peering slightly around the cold stone. He heard the sound of shuffling and then two figures, draped in long scarlet robes came into view, standing before the altar. One was taller than the other and both wore hoods concealing their features. Thaindire noticed that the pierced eye symbol was woven into the backs of the robes also. He could hear something being said but was unable to discern the words that were spoken. The smaller figure on the right then reached up and lowered its hood to reveal long black hair, which had purple streaks, set in it. The figure then reached up to its neck and the concealing gown slithered to the floor leaving the woman naked. As the robe landed on the stone floor of the church, the taller figure pulled back its hood to show short dark hair and copying the woman, the robe fell to the floor revealing a man beneath. Thandire stifled his own gasp as his eyes alighted on a protuberance from the base of the man’s back. A tail grew from the man, a few feet in length, ending in a barb, the tail lazily moved back and forth, cutting through the air. The pair turned to face one another and Thaindire was able to see that the woman was Kendra Leventhorp; her head was tilted, as she looked up into the man’s eyes, the man being Campion the priest. He lowered his head to her and embraced her fully on the lips, his tail flicking up into the air and drifting back and forth like a branch in the wind. His arms enveloped the woman as she slipped her hands about his waist as they continued to embrace, their hands roaming across one another. The pair continued to kiss, locked in their unholy union as Thaindire looked on horrified. Campion then twisted the young woman around so that she was partially hidden from view and lowered her slowly to the bed of cushions beneath the altar, his back bathed in the bloody light, the tail continuing to wisp from side to side in a laconic fashion.

Thaindire moved further around the pillar, fully concealed from the altar, to gather his thoughts. He already realised that the priest was morally bereft but now it was confirmed that Campion was truly cast from demonic forces yet paraded himself as a holy man. Thaindire looked to his sword and the pommel glowed bright blue in the shadow of the pillar. He ran his tongue over his teeth evaluating striking down Campion this moment. Cautiously, he looked around the pillar once again; a series of low moans emanating from Kendra. Campion was on top of her, moving slowly as he copulated with her, her slender legs wrapped around his back as he thrust inside her, but that was not what caught Thaindire’s eye, it was the pair of small, black leathery wings which now protruded from Campions shoulder blades. The wings opened and closed in time with Campion’s thrusting, beating an unholy rhythm to their lovemaking. Thaindire stepped out of the darkness of the pillar and drew his long sword, the sapphire still glowing, competing with the bloody light from the candles. Slight traces of blue lightning tracked across the shimmering blade, the holy power locked within his blade awakened by the devilment nearby. Purposefully, he strode down the aisle towards the altar and the fornicating couple, long sword aloft, ready to drive it into the back of the demon priest.

“ Father beware!” yelled a voice to his left and running from the gloom came the verger, Stafford who carried a broadsword and was advancing quickly to cut off Thaindire’s own progress. Alerted by the cry of his assistant, Thaindire saw the priest twist around, still locked with Kendra and look directly backwards towards Thaindire. His eyes glowed red and his mouth was twisted in a sordid smile as he continued to move inside the woman. Mocking Thaindire, the priest put out his tongue, showing an unnatural forked affair, which whipped at the air accusingly. Still grinning Campion stood, hauling Kendra up with him. Stafford by now had reached the aisle and blocked Thaindire.

“ Out of my way man or I shall cut you down,” warned Thaindire as he watched Campion and the girl moving away from the altar to the recesses beyond.

“ I think not Thaindire, be gone!” yelled the verger raising his own blade and attacking Thaindire. His broadsword chopped through the air but Thaindire was easily able to parry the assault. Twisting, he moved causing Stafford to fly past him carried by his own momentum. The verger steadied himself on a pew and turned back to face Thaindire who cast a quick glance over his shoulder but could see nothing of the priest or Kendra. Stafford came at him again with a thrust and Thaindire brought his long sword down, knocking the advance to one side. He took a step backwards and brought his sword arcing round at the verger’s side who reacted faster than Thaindire anticipated and blocked the swing. Thaindire went at him again; with two further chops at the middle of the verger but each time he was able to place his broadsword between his flesh and the holy blade. Thaindire backed off, assessing the defence of his opponent, each man waiting for the other to make a move. The verger shuffled forward jabbing tentatively with his blade, Thaindire retreating at each short thrust. With a yell Stafford drove hard at Thaindire who darted aside and brought his own blade upwards ramming it into the gut of the verger. Stafford spluttered, eyes widened as the blade cut through his innards. Thaindire grunted giving a further shove of his sword until it burst from the man’s back. Stafford slumped forward, dropping his own blade to the floor with a noisy clang.

“ Fool. May the One True God forgive your transgressions,” hissed Thaindire as he took the weight of the verger and with a heft of his shoulder shoved him from his sword letting the dead man crumple to the stone floor, blood spilling from the wound in his stomach. Thaindire turned and dashed past the altar, ignoring the blood wax candles and making for where he had last seen Campion and his supplicant. In the red light he saw a door on the left and made for it. He twisted the handle and shoved open the door entering into a small stairway, lit by a lantern hung on the wall, a set of smoothed stone steps spiralling upwards to his right. A thick rope hung down from a hole in the ceiling and Thaindire saw that this was the base of the bell tower. There was no other exit from the stairwell. Thaindire grabbed the lantern and raced up the steps, his boots thudding against the stone as he glanced upwards trying to see the fleeing duo. He could heard sounds above him and duly increased his pace, following the twisting steps round and round a central pillar as he climbed higher.

              He burst out onto a platform and stopped himself as a blast of cold air hit him, a welcome change from the thick, cloying air in the church below. He was at the summit of the bell tower, the metal bell to his right, supported from a wooden scaffold and then a further stone roof above it. The platform extended all the way around the bell enabling complete access to it. A slight breeze ruffled Thaindire’s hair, cooling his perspiring brow as he caught his breath following his ascent. In front of him, in the corner of the southern and western part of the bell tower stood Campion, holding Kendra in front of him. She was naked, her slender body still glistening from their fornication. Campion had his right arm across her neck as he looked over her shoulder, twisted features sneering at Thaindire, highlighted by the lantern light.

“ Let her go,” urged Thaindire as he slowly placed the lantern on the platform floor and held out his left hand to the girl. He was surprised that rather than look terrified at being hauled up to this height and held by this demon, she appeared woozy as if under the influence of some charm or concoction. Her eyes glazed and a half smile played about her lips.

“ Stay where you are witch finder or she goes over the edge, “ hissed Campion.

Thaindire glanced to his left and down at the churchyard some distance below.

“ You’ve nowhere to go to demon,” replied Thaindire and took a step forwards.

“ No further or she dies,” warned Campion tightening his grip around her neck.

“ It is you I want Campion.”

“ So I see.”

“ Surrender yourself to my judgement in the name of the One True God,” declared Thaindire.

“ Or you will do what?” jibed the demon priest letting out a low hiss.

“ Or I will dispatch you back to the hell from which you crawled,” said Thaindire firmly.

“ Give me the girl,” ordered Thaindire reaching out again with his left hand.

“ Such heroics seeking to save this wretch,” commented Campion as he let his forked tongue dart out and lick the side of Kendra’s face causing her to squirm in pleasure. Thaindire could not mask his distaste.

“ Come back down with us Thaindire, we can share her,” suggested Campion raising an arched eyebrow. “ She is most inviting, is she not?” The priest gestured with his free arm, sweeping it down in front of Kendra as if he was unveiling a work of art.

“ Not in a thousand years,” replied Thaindire.

“ Oh come now Master Witch finder, surely these firm thighs, pert breasts and succulent lips appeal to even one as chaste as you,” mocked Campion pointing to the various body parts as he spoke. “ Embrace her and join us.”

“ You are coming with me to account for your unholy crimes.”

Campion let out a laugh.

“ My, your resolve is certainly strong, I shall credit you with that, but you shall perish here or become one with the village, nobody can resist the power of Selne,” he announced.

“ Selne is a false god, nothing but a weak impostor.”

“ Selne is the God of Blood, the Father of Aftlain, He who exercises power over this village,” explained Campion.

“ He is nothing but an exponent of evil and will be overcome, like you, by the One True God,” answered Thaindire.

“ Join me, join us,” entreated Campion reaching out with his free hand.