by Mark G Heath
“ So, what is your solution?” asked Campion as Alyssia lowered the trapdoor and replaced the rug across it.
“ Thaindire,” she answered.
“ He is strong, possibly untapped as yet and will provide us with a plentiful supply of white blood. He will provide plenty for me and more besides, so that I can create the Lucerne berries, more than enough berries for Ilberd and enough to give to Novac.”
“ That is true enough, but he is spellbound to Kathryn. Any attempt to lure him away from her will result in him resisting with force, at her behest. He will fight to his last breath to avoid being parted from her. Did you see the show of defiance in the square?”
“No, but I am aware of it.”
“Exactly. He is a force to be reckoned with.”
“ Then we must meet his force with force of our own,” said Alyssia.
“ I was unaware that you had become skilled in the art of combat, Mistress Alyssia,” remarked Campion.
“ Your sarcasm is unhelpful. No, you could do it.”
Campion paused.
“ I could, yes, but my involvement creates a risk. Admittedly it is a slim risk that I maybe injured or worse, but a risk nevertheless and one that I would be unwise to take. I might add also, it is not a risk that Arch Priest Novac would welcome me taking, given his need of me for orchestrating matters for the creation of the Philtre.”
Alyssia gave the priest a sceptical look.
“ Well, you can explain to him that you suggested I put myself in harm’s way.”
“ Surely it is a risk worth taking, for the greater cause?”
“ No, I have an alternative. You are right that force is required. Thus, we shall utilise force, but from another source.”
“ Get to the point Thomas,” said Alyssia.
“ We shall have the Brother Knights arrest Thaindire. If the witch hunter resists his arrest, their combined might, will overpower him. Once arrested and removed from Kathryn’s influence, I shall have the Brother Knights hand Thaindire to me and lo, we have our plentiful supply of white blood for immediate use.”
“ Will the Brother Knights accord with such a desire on your part?”
“ Without doubt. They have executed every arrest whenever I have drawn up charges. They have done so without demur or complaint. They do not question my actions. They are obsessed with the maintenance of order in the village. So long as there is order and the village prospers, they collect the taxes and sit in their keep, removed from the reality of Aftlain. They are so caught up in their own importance and piety that they fail to see behind the mask we have created here. Plus, their authority should prevent anyone from trying to assist Thaindire, otherwise, anyone interfering they will face charges of their own.”
“ Yes, I agree, Thomas, they would be our best instrument in securing Thaindire for ourselves.”
“ Good, we are agreed. I shall attend upon the Brother Knights forthwith and you had best be ready to receive Thaindire and prepare an immediate extraction. Seems to me that you may as well kill Sanctus now, he is of no use.”
“ You concentrate on the Brother Knights and leave the matter of the extraction to me,” said Alyssia.
“ Very well, I shall bid you good night,” said Campion stepping past the curtain and into the storefront.
Alyssia opened the door for the priest.
“ Good night, father, be swift and persuasive.”
Campion stepped out into the darkness of Aftlain, the snow continuing to fall and blanket the village as the priest bore left, heading for the bridge and beyond.
Chapter Fifteen
Grizel opened his door and regretted doing so as the morning cold wrapped around him, despite the thickness of his robes.
“ Come in, come in, “ he said to the hooded figure that stood on his doorstep. The visitor obeyed and stepped into the entrance hall, Grizel closing the door on the snow covered lane beyond.
“ Do you have it?”
The figure nodded and reached inside its cloak to reveal a dull brown pot, about two hands in height, a cork stopper wedged in the top.
“ Excellent, thank you,” said Grizel and he took the pot, passing a small pouch to his visitor.
“ Time is against you, Grizel,” whispered the arrival. “ The Manfurians have arrived and with great ambition.”
“ Yes, I am aware that matters tilt ever more towards darkness Melissa, but my next act, will go some way to restoring the balance,” he replied.
“ Then I shall hold your attention no longer. Fare well.” The figure reached for the front door and opened it.
“ Fare well Melissa and again, my thanks.” Melissa nodded and pulled the door shut behind her. Grizel entered his living room, pleased to feel the heat of the room wash over him once again. He walked to the front of the living room, before the two main windows, both of which were still shrouded by the closed curtains. A lectern was placed in the centre of the space. It was made of iron, its base being depictions of four feet, the toes on each foot directed to each point on the compass. A central column rose from the base of feet to half Grizel’s height and coiled about this column was a long piece of foliage, possibly ivy, again cast from iron. The column gave way to a pair of large, spread hands, cupped in a fashion that enabled a book to be placed open against them and not fall to the floor. Grizel already had a volume placed on the lectern, the pages open at the preferred place.
“ She managed to bring it,” announced Grizel waving the brown pot in the air.
“ What is it?” asked Vindicta sat in his customary place at the dining table.
“ Ground mandrake mixed with crushed shards of obsidian.”
“ More witchery,” snorted Vindicta. Grizel set the pot down and turned towards Vindicta.
“ I know your Order frowns on reliance on such things but this is the only way we are going to recover your holy blade.”
“ I disagree. Release me from whatever charm of binding you have cast over me and I shall confront Captain Reznik and recover my blade myself.”
“ I admire your bravery Gabriel, I really do, but on this occasion you will stray into foolhardiness and that I cannot allow. It grows darker by the day out there, so, I need to release light and a pale, flickering flame will not suffice.”
“ If you use witchcraft to bring about the recovery of my sword, I shall refuse to wield it,” said Vindicta. Grizel sighed, his shoulders slumping.
“ I swear by the One True God, I shall not wield a weapon that has been handled by the product of witchery.”
“ You will Gabriel when you learn of the darkness that stalks through Aftlain, you shall have no choice.”
“ So long as I breathe, I shall not rely on ungodly, dark crafts.”
“ Are you going to be quiet while I do this, or shall I silence you as well as keep you still?” asked Grizel. Vindicta glared but remained silent.
“ I am obliged.”
Grizel took up a taper and lit it from the fire that burned brightly in the fireplace. The end of the taper flared and he walked over to an iron bowl, which was balanced at middle height on a stand. Grizel applied the flame to the lilac powder heaped inside the bowl. It ignited immediately causing a plume of grey-purple smoke to climb into the air, the smell of lavender pervading. He then passed his lectern moving to a second bowl, which was also on a stand and lit the yellow powder that was deposited there. It too, caught light without complication and swirl of yellow smoke rose, the scent of sandalwood competing with the already burning lavender. As the two powders burned slowly, filling the living room with their fragrances, Grizel collected the newly delivered pot and prised off the cork stopper. He stepped around the lectern and carefully tilted the pot, allowing its contents to spill in a waterfall of green and black to land on the stone floor in front of him. Grizel formed a small circle with the concoction and then created a cross within the circle. He moved the pot upright once more, halting the flow of mandrake and obsidian and gave a confirmatory nod. Taking t
wo paces to the right, he began the process again, creating a similar symbol on the floor. Once that was complete, he moved again to his right by two paces and created a third crossed circle. The trio complete, he placed the pot on a nearby shelf and positioned himself behind the lectern. He stood composed, as if drawing on a deep power within and then looked down at the etchings across the open pages.
“ Cuth alspa methrin duchnar,” he intoned.
Vindicta watched as Grizel, flanked by the pillars of smoke, gesticulated with his right hand, stabbing and cutting the air.
“ Amerth gar uthran nach dospeer,” continued Grizel uttering the invocation, which was meaningless to Vindicta, although he was used to hearing Grizel utter similarly arcane words from his enforced stay with him.
“ Cuth alspa dochrin attar,” spoke Grizel. His right hand continued its dance and he allowed the words to roll from his tongue as he concentrated on ensuring the pronunciation was exact and the inflection accurate. After a few more sentences he stopped and lowered his right arm. He looked expectedly at the three piles of powder on the floor. They remained unchanged. A look of concern flashed across Grizel’s face and he looked at the book, his eyes hurriedly scanning the text. Three popping noises rang out, each occurring in swift succession. A green light flared in each circle and the first wisps of green-grey smoke drifted upwards. Grizel smiled and rested his hands on the lectern. The green light expanded and became flames which created more smoke, the tendrils twisting as they rose, wrapping around one another. A hissing noise began and then doubled in volume, before becoming louder again. The clouding smoke grew thicker, but it did not drift outwards but rose in a pillar, remaining within the boundary of the burning circle below. The flames then reached the cross and split in two, one set continuing around the perimeter of the circle and another set making its way across to the centre of the cross. This continued until the whole of the symbol was burning and a murky column of smoke rose from each circle.
The hissing noise continued and Grizel watched as the column began to shift and he saw limbs form in the smoke. Wiry, spindly limbs, two legs that reached up to a willowy torso from which two stalk like arms grew. On top of the torso a head formed, the smoke parting to generate two dark sockets and beneath them a gash of a mouth. Presently, the hissing faded away and the green flames on the floor died, the powder all consumed. The plumes of sandalwood and lavender began to thin and Grizel stood staring at three dark green figures made of thick smoke. They seemed to sway from side to side, ever so slightly, but their humanoid shape was clear to discern.
“ Welcome spirits, I am Grizel, he who has summoned you,” declared Grizel holding his arms aloft.
“ Master Grizel, how would you have us serve you?” replied the spirits, their voices hollow and eerie.
“ You,” said Grizel pointing at the spirit on the left, “ shall go to the house of Captain Eustace Reznik. His house will be empty. If it is not, you are to return here for my further bidding. If his house is empty, you are to recover from it a long sword. It bears a large sapphire in its pommel and the words ‘Gabriel Vindicta’ along the blade. You shall know it by its name and the aura it emits.”
“ Yes my master.”
“ You two,” declared Grizel indicating the remaining spirits, “ are to travel to the boundary of this village where it meets the road beyond. You are to journey there unseen; use the forest to mask your traverse there. Once there you are to ignite a tree and await the attendance of Captain Eustace Reznik. On his arrival, you are to draw him along the road, away from the village for as far as you are able to go.”
“ Yes my master,” chorused the two spirits.
“ Begone,” ordered Grizel.
The spirits turned and drifted across to the entrance hall door. There, they slid under the door, the smoke apparitions slipping away until nothing remained of their presence.
Grizel clapped his hands together.
“ Excellent, the wheel turns,” he declared.
Grizel closed the book and made his way to one of the chairs by his fireplace. He scooped up a goblet set on a table and took a long drink of its contents, lowering the goblet with a contented sigh.
“ How long will those things take?” asked Vindicta distaste evident on his face.
“ It all depends if and how quickly Reznik reacts to the little diversion at the village’s edge. We shall learn soon enough,” replied Grizel.
“ How are you feeling this day?”
“ My strength continues to return. I rested particularly well last night,” said Vindicta.
“ Good, you shall have to call on that strength very soon, Gabriel.”
The second and third spirits manifested at the edge of the Widow’s Way. The road was covered in a half hand of snow and was untouched for neither boot nor cartwheel had crossed the village’s threshold. The branches of the trees were lined with snow, the white complementing the various greys of the bark. In the village square, a handful of villagers milled about by the stores, which were trading as usual. Although no snow fell now, the sky was a solid dark grey and threatened a further delivery across the village and the forest. The two spirits drifted across to the closest tree and coiled about its trunk. They revolved around it, circling the tree, twisting around and around until they appeared to grow in size, but it was the first wisp of smoke rising from the tree as it began to smoulder. Quicker and quicker went the spirits, a dark green blur until the first flame sprang into life, and then another as the tree ignited. The spirits released their grip on the tree and floated across to the road once again. Grey smoke began to pour from the tree as the flames climbed the trunk, the bark curling under the heat and glowing orange.
“ Fire! Fire!” shouted a villager from near to the stalls.
“ There’s a fire, over there,” yelled somebody else.
Two of the villagers who had been stood talking whilst their wives shopped, ran towards the tree which was now well alight, the crackling of burning wood loud across the once still air. Other villagers ran with pails to the well, where the large figure of Ansell Redway was already turning the winch in his meaty hands. The well’s bucket arrived at the surface and the smith took hold of it, placing it on the wall of the well. He made a fist and smashed through the ice, which had formed across the top of the water held in the bucket, his large hand breaking through into the cold water below. He then tipped the bucket so that Edmund Seymour, a farmer, could fill the pail, which he had snatched up. Shards of ice clunked into the pail along with the water as a second villager and a third lined up to receive water from the well.
Lewis Wadham and Gilbert Tabard arrived at the edge of the Widow’s Way to investigate the source of the fire. They skidded to a halt ten paces or so from the burning tree, the large flames licking upwards and now consuming the branches, threatening to spread to the neighbouring tree.
“ Gilbert, look!” cried Wadham as something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He pointed at the two swaying green shapes that lingered on the edge of the road.
“ Fetch the captain,” said Tabard as he looked at the menacing spirits.
“ Aye, right away,” answered Wadham. The farmer turned and ran, his boots clomping through the snow as he crossed the square shouting for Reznik. Tabard backed away from the spirits, keeping his eye on them all the time, until Seymour arrived next to him, pail in hand.
“ Wait Edmund, there is something afoot,” warned Tabard pointing at the two spirits which remained in the same place.
“ I need to douse the fire,” said Seymour.
“No, you will go too close to those things. Lewis has gone to fetch the captain, let him deal with them. That’s what he is for.”
Seymour remained next to Wadham.
“ What are they?” he asked.
“ Demons I would say, they must have entered through the tree and set it ablaze in doing so, “ said Wadham.
“ Aye, I reckon you are right.”
Other villagers, some
carrying pails of water, joined the two men; others had merely come to look at the fiery tree. The small group muttered to one another, maintaining a respectful distance from the two spirits all the while keeping a watchful eye on them in case they made any move towards the villagers.
“ What’s going on? Who set the tree on fire?” asked Reznik as he arrived.
“ Demons, Captain Reznik, look,” said Seymour.
Reznik immediately drew his sabre. He took a step forward but the spirits did not move. He moved another step and they remained static.
“ I will deal with them, put the fire out,” he ordered. None of the villagers moved.
“ Douse the fire, do it!” shouted Reznik waving his arm at the villagers. Seymour and the cooper, Gascoigne edged towards the crackling tree, warily regarding the two spirits.
Reznik let out a shout and charged at one of the spirits. The spirits finally moved, darting away from the advancing soldier. Such was their speed they increased the distance between them and Reznik, despite the Captain running at them. Reznik halted, sabre brandished above his head as he heard the first slap of water against bark as the villagers began their fire fighting.
“ I am going to need some help here,” said Reznik as he stared at the figures, which were slowly gliding back towards him.
Six imps manifested just in front of the soldier, the grey, menacing creatures arriving with customary snarls and guttural growls. They waited for Reznik’s command as he watched the spirits. They halted when the imps appeared and instead beckoned at Reznik and his cohorts with their spindly arms.
“ Get ‘em,” said Reznik and the imps began to bound forward as the soldier let out a yell and ran forward, swiping the air with his razor-sharp sabre. The spirits once again darted promptly along the road, leading Reznik and his imps further down the road.
The first spirit floated across the road at the western end of the square unnoticed as all eyes looked towards the burning tree. It drifted up the steps to Reznik’s residence and as it had departed from Grizel’s home, so it similarly entered that of Reznik by slipping under the door. Once inside, the willowy, green spirit explored the interior of Reznik’s impressive house. It only took a moment for it to be drawn to the array of weapons and armour placed around the fireplace and a moment longer before it espied the object of its instruction. The thin hands reached out and lifted the holy long sword from its berth beside the fireplace.