by Mark G Heath
“ Gabriel Vindicta,” it hissed in its cold, empty voice as it acknowledged the markings on the blade. The spirit headed back to the door and lifted the latch. The door was unlocked and it opened the heavy, black door, hovering for a moment before exiting the house and closing the door after it. Swiftly, the spirit levitated over the balustrade that surrounded Reznik’s veranda and crossed the top of the square, making for the lane that ran down the right-hand side of the smithy. Moving rapidly, its prize floating through the air like some spectral blade, the spirit headed down the lane and was soon back at the house of Grizel, where it opened the door and slipped inside, its mission complete.
Reznik strolled along the Widow’s Way, twirling his sabre as he walked. He had expelled his imps now the threat of the spirits had vanished. He had pursued the pair of green apparitions along the road for two or three minutes, his imps racing ahead, steadily reducing the gap between them and the spirits. Reznik, still in decent condition, had kept pace with the imps, just a handful of paces behind them. He watched as the leading imp leapt into the air, talons outstretched to rake the apparition when both of the spirits vanished, the green forms disappearing, not even leaving a trail behind them. His lead imp slammed into the snow-covered ground and whirled round, confusion writ across its face, as the other imps all came to a halt, twisting their heads this way and that, trying to locate the spirits. Reznik had scrutinised the surrounding trees, which lined the road, anticipating the spirits would manifest and attack from a different direction, but no attack came. Reznik shrugged and began walking back to the village, keeping the imps to hand in case of an ambush. As he neared the village again and there being no sign of the spirits, Reznik dispelled the imps and ambled along whistling.
“ Did you slay them Captain?” asked Seymour, an empty pail at his feet.
“ Indeed Edmund, the peril is no more,” declared Reznik. The villagers gave a cheer of relief. Reznik looked at the tree which had been extinguished, just a little grey smoke lingering, the bark blackened and wet from the water thrown against it. Two homunculi were stooped at the base of the tree, cutting the burned bark away with small knives, depositing it in a bowl set between them.
“ What were they?” asked Tabard.
“ Demons, sent from below,” answered Reznik causing a few gasps and utterances of oaths from the assembled villagers.
“ But you need not be concerned good folk, they have been banished. I have forbidden anything foul to harm this village and I shall remain true to my word.”
“ Bless you Captain,” said Polly Rudhale blowing a kiss towards the mercenary. Reznik smiled and waved his hand ornately in the air before bowing low, the villagers showering blessings and thanks towards him. Reznik righted himself and sheathed his sabre.
“ Well, after that excitement, I deserve a drink and a warm by my fire. My thanks for dousing the fire and may I suggest you go and warm yourselves too.”
The villagers nodded and chattering amongst themselves began to walk back to their stores and homes. Reznik glanced at the tree once more, the two tiny men still busy collecting the bark. He looked over his shoulder but the road was empty, just his footprints in the snow the only evidence of what had just happened. Reznik rubbed the end of his cold nose and set off across the square to his home.
Chapter Sixteen
Six homunculi clambered over the snow-coated wall of the well, but none of the tiny men shirked from placing their hands on the frozen stone. They all waited for one another to stand in a circle atop the wall. Balanced on the edge of the wall, the first homunculus jumped and caught hold of the rope that dangled from the winch. He began climbing downwards, legs wrapped around the rope, hands moving one over the other as he began his descent into the darkness of the well. The second homunculus waited a moment and then similarly leapt onto the rope. One by one, the diminutive figures jumped onto the rope and descended into the depths of the well. All that could be seen in the darkness below was a pale blue glow emanating from one side of the well. The glow became larger and brighter as the homunculi neared it, until the leading tiny man stopped level with the source of the light, which was a clump of mushrooms that gave off the light blue glow. The stalks and flat caps of the mushrooms all radiated the cold light. The first homunculus was approximately the height of two men below the top of the well. Somewhere below him were the well’s bucket and the water, but neither could be picked out in the mushroom’s light. Beneath the mushrooms was a hole in the wall of the well. It was not naturally formed and was circular in shape. It would readily admit a large man if he were to drop to all fours and crawl into it. Nimbly, the first homunculus sprang from the rope and landed at the edge of the tunnel. It was easily wide and high enough for the little man to walk along and he moved further into the tunnel before stopping, waiting for his brethren. His grey skin glowed in the light of a further clump of mushrooms, which grew in the tunnel and as the tunnel stretched ahead, it continued to be lit by the intermittent growths of fungi. Presently, all of the homunculi were gathered and in single file they began to walk along the tunnel. They passed timber beams, which had been erected to hold in place wooden panels that had been placed along the sides and roof of the tunnel, gaps occasionally left where the mushrooms grew and afforded their light. The floor of the tunnel was compressed soil, flattened by the repeated passage of booted feet.
After a few minutes of silent walking, the homunculi reached rails that had been laid down on the floor. Timber had been placed down and the iron rails attached to the wood. The rails curved away to the left, following a second tunnel, which branched away from the main one, which the homunculi advanced down. This secondary tunnel was narrower than the first, but similarly boarded and lit. It ran for twenty or so paces before curving away to the right, hiding whatever lay at the end of it. Ignoring it, the little men continued onwards, walking between the rails, the route now sloping gently downwards. After a few further minutes of walking through the tunnel, the half a dozen homunculi reached a mining cart, which was stationery on the rails, chocks of wood wedged beneath the iron wheels to prevent the cart from rolling away down the slope. Stood beside the cart were two more homunculi, swinging pick axes at the wall in front of them. A greater array of mushrooms grew on both walls of the tunnel here, almost as if someone had deliberately placed them there, the two creatures were bathed in the bright blue light, causing the sheen of sweat adorning them to glisten. The two homunculi chipped away at a section of white-golden ore, easily the height of a man in its diameter. Small rivulets of water trickled over the metallic surface, which sparkled and glinted in the light shed by the illuminating fungi. A segment of ore broke away from the main body and thudded to the ground. Both of the tiny men halted and one reached down to pick up the metal. He hurled it over the side of the cart where it landed with a bang in the wooden container. It was then that his silver eyes observed his brethren and he tapped the second homunculus on the shoulder, causing him to turn. He lowered his pickaxe and stepped away from the face of the ore. Two of the six picked up the pick axes and with the briefest of delays, took up position before the rock face and resumed the mining of the ore. The little men that they had replaced set off back up the tunnel towards the well.
The remaining four homunculi continued to follow the tunnel, which took on a steeper gradient, but the tiny men did not adjust their pace as they marched into the depths of the ground. The dark earth of the floor started to thin and glimpses of rock could be seen poking through the soil. At times the rock was angular and uneven, yet the homunculi walked with their customary sure-footedness. The further they walked, the more rock became visible, the soil becoming patchy until it stopped altogether and the rails ran over chiselled black rock. The soil had finally petered out and so had the mushrooms. Instead, clusters of pale blue crystals that gripped the rock of the walls and ceiling now lighted the tunnel. As they had accommodated the mushrooms, the boards that had been erected left gaps to enable the rough crystals to emit their c
old yet bright glow. Deeper walked the four small creatures until the clanging of metal on rock rang out, a metallic rhythm reverberating along the tunnel. The sound of industry became louder until the four homunculi reached a train of mining carts, each filled with shards of black rock, almost spilling out of the carts. The tiny men rounded the carts and there before them was a small pile of rock on the floor of the tunnel, several shovels lain on top of the rubble. In front of this four homunculi stood side by side, swinging their pick axes in a synchronised fashion. The axe heads struck the rock face before them, slight chips of rock shooting away as indentations were made. The newly arrived homunculi each stood behind one of those working and each then tapped the worker on the shoulder. Immediately, the swinging of the pick-axes halted and those working turned around. They handed the pick axes to their replacements, their grey skin shining from perspiration and smeared with dirt and walked away, skirting the carts and beginning their walk back to the well.
The recently arrived homunculi formed a line and raised the axes, bringing them down hard, as one, onto the rock face. The clanging echoed along the tunnel. Highlighted by the glowing crystals arranged either side and above the rock face that they worked at, the homunculi attacked the black rock with vigour. Their slim, yet muscular arms, drove the pick axes into the rock time and time again, breaking off chunks of rock, which rolled to join the existing debris. Soon beads of sweat formed on their hairless heads, trickling down onto the necks or their faces, but they did not appear to notice, as they never halted their onslaught to wipe away the perspiration, instead letting it drip onto the floor. Back and forth swung the pick axes, the shafts held in vice-like grips, the silver axe heads smashing into the rock over and over. Pieces of rock flew past the homunculi, occasionally striking them, but they did not once alter their rhythm, seemingly oblivious to any distraction.
Steadily the pile of rubble around their feet grew, ranging from wafer-thin shards to large fist-sized lumps. The grey creatures stopped their swinging of their pick axes and placed them on the floor. They turned and took up the shovels, scooping up the rubble and depositing it in the nearest cart creating a new mound of debris within the carrier. Backs bent, the homunculi shovelled with two scooping the debris as two more deposited it into the cart and then vice versa. Their co-ordinated, piston-like method soon had the mound of rubble removed from around their feet and into the cart. Once the ground had been cleared, the shovels were exchanged for the pick axes and the scraping noise that had filled the end of the tunnel was replaced by the harsh clash of metal on rock once more.
Down came the head of the pick axes, the galvanised metal triumphing over the rock as the homunculi made further inroads into the face before them. Their work-rate was incessant and they did not seem to tire, not once did a homunculus lean on his pickaxe weariness etched across the usually impassive face. Instead, the arms lifted, the axe head shone in the blue light and a silver blur attacked the barrier of black rock.
Suddenly, the pickaxe of the homunculus stood second from the left, hit the rock face and a different pitched clang rang out. The pickaxe flew backwards, leaving the tiny man’s hands and clattered into the cart behind them. He held his hands out before him, staring at his palms, taken aback by the violent removal of his tool. The other three tiny men halted their assault on the rock face and turned to look at the second homunculus. He tilted his head, as if reflecting on what happened and scampered over the pile of rocks to retrieve his pickaxe. He inspected the head of his tool and then returned to the line. The waiting homunculi all pointed to the spot, which he had just struck. He raised his pickaxe, alone this time since the other three still pointed their minute hands at the rock face. The mining tool swung through the air and clipped the rock. A small fragment broke away, bouncing off the rock below and rolling to a stop beside the homunculus’ booted feet. He stopped again and looked at each of his brethren in turn who all nodded. He returned the confirmatory nod and hefted the pickaxe before swinging once again. The different sounding clang rang out once more and again the pickaxe left the homunculus’ hands, spiralling away at great speed and this time embedding in the side of the nearest cart. All four of the tiny men followed the looping flight of the pickaxe with their glinting silver eyes before turning back to the rock face. A crack appeared in the rock, the fracture grew, spreading along the hard, black rock and then abruptly halted. There was a pause and then a chunk of rock, the size of one of the creature’s heads peeled away from the rock face and trundled down to the floor watched by the homunculi. It came to rest by the booted right foot of the third homunculus and he jabbed at it.
They then looked back to the place where this piece of rock had sheared from the rock face. Visible in the blue crystal light was a flat piece of metal, evidently larger than the section they could see, for then it disappeared under the rock all around it. The metal was a dull grey and did not shine like the rock that it was flanked by. Set in the centre of the exposed metal was a symbol, which did shine as it was picked out by the light. The symbol was silver in colour and reflected the light from the crystals, creating a twinkling effect. The glinting symbol was a line, which had a curve atop it, which bore right and a curve below it, which bore left. Two diagonal lines crossed this longer line, cutting downwards from right to left.
The tiny men all glanced at one another, dropped their pick axes and scrambled over the pile of loose rock. They darted along beside the mining carts and ran back up the tunnel, their tiny feet pounding the ground. The departure contrasted with their orderly arrival as they tried to clamber over one another, each racing with the other in trying to escape the tunnel first. They pulled at one another, shoved and tried to out run one another; such was their haste to escape what they had found. They tackled the steeper gradient, it not slowing their frenzied exit as they bolted along the tunnel. Eventually, they reached their two brethren who had stopped their own work and were looking down the tunnel towards the four tiny men who advanced rapidly. They flung their own pick axes to the ground and abandoned the seam of metallic ore they had been working, sprinting back up the tunnel, grey limbs whirling, before their brethren had even drawn level with them.
The duo was a number of paces ahead of the quartet and they reached the well first. The leading homunculus dived from the edge of the tunnel and gripped the rope. His follower did not wait, unlike the patience exhibited in their descent and he also leapt at the rope, grabbing the rope with one hand and the boot of the first homunculus with the other. The leading tiny man shook his leg but the second homunculus clambered up and over the first and set off climbing up the rope, closely pursued by the one he had just overtaken. The rope shuddered as the quartet arrived and lacking any discipline they piled onto the rope, causing it to sway violently. The two homunculus higher up had to halt climbing, clinging on to the rope in desperation as it swung back and forth. Up they then climbed, tiny hands gripping the rope as they pulled themselves higher and higher towards the circle of daylight that signified the end of the well.
The first appeared at the top of the well and sprang from the rope, bursting from the well, like a cork from a bottle, the trailing homunculus right behind him. The two flew through the air, somersaulting and landing on the snow-covered square. The remaining four homunculi all ejected from the well, four tiny grey shapes flying through the air. The commotion caught the eye of those by the stalls and they watch intrigued as the agitated homunculi tore across the square dashing for their home at the alchemist's.
The leader arrived at the door and banged his fists against it, soon joined by the second and then a third. All six of the homunculi assailed Grimoult’s door, a cacophony of hammering and kicking from their fists and feet. A few of the villagers peered around the corner of the carpenter’s, their curiosity pricked by the sudden explosive arrival of the tiny men. Eventually, the door to the alchemist’s open and the homunculi bundled inside, pulling one another and shoving. The villagers shook their heads and stared at Grimoult’s doo
r as it closed.
Chapter Seventeen
The carriage trundled through the square, led by its team of four horses. The driver, clothed as he had arrived, lent forward, holding on to the reins, his black top hat pulled down tight on his head. His pale grey eyes looked out over the square ahead of him as he drove the carriage between the properties on the northern side of the square and the protruding copse of trees that extended into the square. Benjamin Dromgoole stepped out of the Last One Inn and then promptly jumped back into the doorway, moving with surprising sprightliness for a stocky fellow. Hooves flashed by him and the black stallions kicked up the snow in powdery clouds. The landlord watched the carriage continue past the tavern and then slow as it drew alongside the cousins’ house.
Inside the carriage, Campion, Tsangarides and Novac bounced around.
“ Must he drive with such haste?” asked Campion, “ he will roll the carriage at this corner if he is not careful.”
“ Lackland knows what he is doing,” said Tsangarides as the carriage lurched to the right, causing Campion to slide along the seat into the Manfurian Under Priest. The priest was unable to halt his movement as he gripped tightly the box containing the crown on his lap. Tsangarides shoved Campion off him as the carriage righted itself and then slowed down considerably. Novac stared out of the window watching the trees pass as Lackland guided the carriage down the track that led to the fields on the outskirts of the village. The ride became uncomfortable despite the expensive suspension of the carriage as it passed along the rutted and uneven track, throwing its passengers about, despite the reduction in speed. Campion winced each time they rode over a bump until thankfully the carriage halted.