by Mark G Heath
“ With one of our friends, it is quite safe.”
“ Oh, I wasn’t questioning that, I want to see it.”
“ Ah, that’s somewhat difficult as it is being used.”
“ No matter,” answered Darkseid. “ So, this is where they lie?”
“ Yes. Silent beneath the earth for so long and now on the cusp of awakening.”
“ Are they spread across the entire field?” asked Darkseid.
“ I believe so, yes.”
“ Quite an undertaking.”
“ But achievable?”
Darkseid turned and looked at Campion.
“ That’s why I am here. If not me, then who?”
“ Well, precisely.”
“It will be quite the spectacle,” remarked Darkseid as she leant down and prodded the ground with her gloved hand.
“I dare say. My reading has told me of some powerful figures that met their end at the battle of the three dukes, harnessing that expertise will give us a massive advantage.”
“We need every advantage if we are to admit our brethren from the north.”
“Are they ready?” asked Campion.
“Oh they have been ready for a long time in the Lost Lands. That place has almost become some kind of holding pen for them, waiting and growing, seeking to breach the fortresses to pour into Albion. The Northern Counties have always been able to hold the Guardian Line, much to our frustration and disappointment. They do not expect to be attacked from the south.”
“How I long for our brothers and sisters to be able to throw off the oppression of the High Church and go about our works without fear of persecution or reprisal. I pray daily to Selne to make it so and I remain willing to make the supreme sacrifice to bring about our grand design,” declared Campion with evangelical enthusiasm.
“Yes, we have been subjected to the crushing heel of the High Church for far too long. Once the people of Albion realise the reason why and how the High Church rules, they will rally to our side. I have no doubt of that.”
“Absolutely. We will not fail,” said Campion.
“ I understand there is a white blood in the village,” said Darkseid.
“ Yes, Samael Thaindire, he arrived a number of days ago.”
“ Can we expect interference from him?”
“ No, he won’t be an issue.”
“ Won’t be? He has yet to be dealt with?”
“ Sorry, a slip of the tongue, he isn’t an issue. He has fallen for the charms of our landlord’s daughter, aided and abetted by a powerful enchantment.”
“ Ah, that kind of fallen. What about his order, might they send further white bloods?”
“ Yes, they might, but they will not reach us until after your work is done. “
“ You seem rather sure of that.”
“ I am, Thaindire is a recent arrival. His order probably does not even consider there is any need to send further witch hunters yet. No, the way is clear.”
“ Excellent. If anything is going to jeopardise our work, it will be a white blood,” said Darkseid. She turned from staring at the empty field.
“ Shall we head back, I need warming up?” she asked.
“ It will be my pleasure,” said Campion.
The priest and the necromancer began walking along the track, back to the village square, both pleased by the presence of the other. They talked incessantly as they made their way back to the church, discussing the changes that they sought to bring about for the good of Albion.
Chapter Twenty
Grizel stepped towards Vindicta. He held the recovered long sword across the palms of his hands, offering it to the witch hunter. Vindicta was stood before the fireplace, his appearance much changed. He wore chain mail about his torso, across his arms and down over his thighs. His azure cloak draped down his back and he stood with an air of confidence, a contrast to the hunched, anxious state that had enveloped him previously.
“ I made my position clear. I won’t handle that blade after dark magic has touched it.”
Grizel halted in front of the witch hunter. He lifted the shining blade higher, almost thrusting it into the face of Vindicta.
“ You are incomplete without it,” said Grizel.
“ True enough, but the method of its delivery offends me.”
“ I cannot release you, unless you accept your sword.”
Vindicta glanced down at the polished metal, his name forged into the blade.
“ If you remain here, the darkness will spread. That is contrary to my purpose to maintain balance.”
“ So I am just a tool at your disposal am I?”
“ Not at all. I can control you here; keep you in bondage, but not out there. There your will prevails.”
Vindicta remained silent.
“ Is it not the case that one of your Ordinances is to root out the manifestation of evil and cast it asunder?”
“ You mean the detection and trial of witchery? Yes, it is.”
“ And isn’t it a further Ordinance that you have sworn to protect the weak and needy, providing them with such help as they require?”
“ Yes. I was not aware you were so well accustomed with the Ordinances of my Order,” said Vindicta.
“You might be surprised that I have read extensively about your Ordinances and Strictures. This is my world, within these four walls. It is not for me to roam the land and indulge in what the world has to offer beyond this house. No, I must bring the world here and I do that through my books. I read and read, absorbing the writings of the world out there. I may not see it, but I certainly know about it and I know all about your Order and its foundations.”
“I know that you are most learned Grizel, but I cannot leave this place bearing an instrument that has been tainted by witchery,” protested Vindicta.
“By remaining here, you are failing to accord with two of your Ordinances,” reminded Grizel.
“ You speak of my Ordinances but you seem to forget the Strictures that apply. You may recall then that a further prohibition from our Stricture is not to consort willingly with witchery in whatever form it may manifest,” said Vindicta.
“ I do.”
“ Then I am foresworn from contravening that Stricture.”
Grizel lowered the weapon and let it lean against a nearby chair.
“Then it is your ninth Ordinance that must persuade you to act,” said Grizel.
“The ninth?”
“Yes, you have sworn to aid a brother of the Order without condition, delay or hesitation” said Grizel.
“I know what the ninth Ordinance is, sorcerer.”
“Then you must comply with it.”
“How so?”
“ Your slavish devotion to your doctrine by not wielding your blade, means that a brother witch hunter shall perish.”
“ Who, Thaindire? How will he perish? You said he was beholden to an enchantment.”
“ No, not Thaindire, but Sanctus.”
“ Michael Sanctus? How?” said Vindicta his eyes widening at this revelation.
“ He is being sapped of his white blood and is very weak, in fact, his captor may well decide to extract the last of his blood and be done with him.”
“ Where is he? Who holds him?” demanded Vindicta.
“ He is capable of rescue, wield your sword and I shall furnish you with his whereabouts.”
Vindicta said nothing but stared at his holy blade.
“Is it not the case that your Ordinances take precedence over your Strictures should the two conflict?” said Grizel pushing the sword towards Vindicta.
Vindicta looked to the blade and back to Grizel. He wrestled with the dilemma for a moment and then snatched up the sword, revelling in the familiar grip as his hand slid around the specially made hilt. He smiled and held the sword up, running his eye up and down the blade. Suddenly he swung the sword at Grizel, chopping towards his neck.
“ Methrach,” said Grizel, with surprising calm. The sword stroke halted
and Vindicta stood frozen.
“ So predictable,” said Grizel, stepping away from the sword.
Vindicta was unable to speak; all he was able to do was move his eyes.
“ You cannot strike me down. Moreover, I find it rather rude after the hospitality I have exhibited towards you. Now, I am going to allow you to move and please, don’t be so infuriating. Guth mesp.”
Vindicta’s arm continued his arc, but with Grizel moved, he merely slashed the air.
“ Where is Sanctus?” growled Vindicta lowering his weapon.
“ He is held in the basement of the apothecary.”
“ By that witch Thorne?”
“ Some say witch, some say skilled apothecary, but yes, she holds him.”
“ By the Allsaints, I shall have her pay dearly for her treachery.”
“ I would concentrate on rescuing Sanctus.”
“ Why?”
“ A brother witch hunter will prove of greater use than haranguing Thorne.”
“ How do you know he is there?”
“ I have my spies about this village, let’s leave it at that.”
“ You could be leading me into a trap.”
“ Yes I could, but you could decide to leave Sanctus and carry out some other act, so if I am leading you into a trap, which I am not incidentally, it is hardly guaranteed success is it?”
Vindicta considered this for a moment.
“ Then release me from this house Grizel, I have good works to attend to,” declared Vindicta.
“ At last,” sighed Grizel.
“ Doch ethran meir uth bas dechran,” he said and gesticulated with his right hand.
“ You are free to go.”
“ At last indeed,” replied Vindicta making for the door. He stepped into the entrance hall half-expecting to stop, but his progress was unhindered. He pulled on the exterior door and walked down the steps into the lane outside, relishing the cold air after so long confined to Grizel’s house. He turned left and set off for the apothecary.
Alyssia Thorne carried two of the infused, red discs on a platter and stooped to set them down, enabling her to roll back the rug and expose the trapdoor. She had enhanced the concoction on this occasion, in the hope that it would maintain Sanctus’ life and enable her to extract more whiteblood, pending Campion’s plot to apprehend Thaindire. Her slender hand gripped the ring on the trapdoor and she hauled it open. Just as she prepared to walk down the wooden steps to the basement’s interior, a cry came from the store.
“ Alyssia?”
She paused and waited.
“ Alyssia?” came the call again. She stood up and walked over to the curtain, pulling it back.
“ Ah, thank goodness,” said Maye Remgaal.
“ Hello Maye, what’s the matter?” asked Alyssia, letting the curtain fall back into place as she walked into the shop front.
“ I thought you weren’t here for a moment. Thank heavens you are,” blustered the fletcher’s wife.
“ What’s happened?”
“ Oh it’s Robert. He has come out in some kind of rash. He said it was nothing to be concerned about, but I had a look and my goodness, it doesn’t look pleasant at all.”
“ Couldn’t Robert come here?”
“Oh he wouldn’t, you know what a stick in the mud he can be.”
“ I see. Well, what’s this rash like?”
“ Lots of red dots.”
“ Small dots?”
“Are they small? Let me think, well yes, I suppose they are.”
“ Like pin-pricks?”
“ No larger than that.”
“ How much larger?”
“ Hmm, like a thumb print I would say.”
“ So, quite a lot larger. Are the dots raised?”
“ Yes they are. Very red too.”
“ Whereabouts are they?”
“ All over Robert’s chest arms and legs.”
“ What about his face?”
“ No, none there, he is ugly enough,” laughed Maye. “ Oh I shouldn’t laugh really, he looked quite uncomfortable actually. They itch you see.”
“ They itch as well. Anything else? Does he seem feverish or weak?”
“ No, he seems fine, apart from this rash.”
“ Very well, I really need to see him to make a proper decision and I am just in the middle of something.”
“ Oh can’t you come now, it might be catching, in fact I am sure I feel an itch coming on now,” commented Maye rubbing at her shoulder.
“ I don’t think it will be catching if I am honest.”
The door to the apothecary swung open and Campion walked in. He stood waiting behind Maye.
“ Oh hello father, how are you?”
“ Hello Maye, how are you and the family?”
“ Well, I am in rude health and the boys are full of themselves at present. Running me ragged if I am honest. I was just telling Alyssia that poor Robert’s got a rash. All over him save his face. All spotty and red, not nice at all.”
“ Sounds unpleasant,” said Campion, “ I am sure Alyssia will be able to help,” he continued and nodded to the waiting apothecary.
“ Oh, sorry Alyssia, what was it that you were saying?”
“ I said it probably isn’t catching.”
“ Good, good. What shall I do then? The spots look ever so nasty.”
“ You need something that will ease the discomfort and draw the heat from the skin,” replied Alyssia. She made her way along the shelves and selected a pot.
“ This is cyrial lotion. Smear it all over where the spots are and leave it on. After a few minutes the itching should stop and the skin will cool. Once it starts to wear off, place some more on.”
“ Lovely, that sounds just what is needed. How much will that be?”
“ Seven silver marks.”
“ Bear with me, sorry father, am I holding you up?” Maye rooted in her basket for her purse.
“ No, no rush Maye,” answered Campion rolling his eyes at Alyssia.
“ Here we are,” said Maye producing her purse. She reached inside and counted out seven silver marks handing them over to Alyssia.
“ You look lovely as usual, Alyssia,” added Maye as she popped the pot in her basket, “ I love that colour of dress,” she said pointing at Alyssia’s blue-petalled dress.
“ Thank you, Maye.”
“ Yes, I must see if Metylda can make me something similar, it’s such a wonderful colour.”
“ Oh I am sure she will be able to help you.”
“ I hope so, it is lovely isn’t it father?”
“ Yes, delightful,” agreed Campion.
“ Now then father,” began Maye turning to the priest, “ wasn’t it awful what happened to Kendra, who would have thought it? She had so much to look forward to.”
“ Yes, most tragic, I offer prayers for her soul every day,” said Campion, “ Maye, much as I would love to talk with you, but won’t Robert be in need of that lotion?” The priest tapped the basket.
“ Oh listen to me, prattling on like some old gossip. Yes, yes, I must get on, good bye Alyssia and thank you.”
“ Good bye Maye, I shall call by a little later for a better look at Robert.”
“ Thank you, bye,” said Maye as she exited the apothecary.
“ Lovely lady,” said Campion as he watched the fletcher’s wife amble away down the road.
“ Harmless enough and she looks after her husband well.”
“ So she should, we need Robert and his expertise.”
“ Well, how might I be of assistance, do you have any rashes that require attention?”
“ Not that I am aware of. I thought I would bring you news of my discussions with the Brother Knights and the charges against Samael Thaindire.”
“ This sounds promising,” said Alyssia, “ let me lock the front door so we won’t be disturbed and then we can go through and you can tell me what is happening.”
Alyssia secured the fron
t door and then swept the curtain back, ushering Campion into the rear of her home.
Vindicta scrambled over the fence besides the apothecary and landed in the garden. The various plants, shrubs and bushes were covered in snow and the lack of footprints confirmed nobody had ventured into the garden since the snowfall. Vindicta looked up at the apothecary and crept towards the rear door. He edged up the steps and positioned himself at the wall of the house, next to the door. Cautiously, he leant forward and peered through the glass panes in the top half of the door. He saw Thorne enter the room, moving the partitioning curtain aside as she walked through. Vindicta noted she wore blue this time, the petal dress shimmying as she walked. The last time he had seen her the dress had been bright red, similar to her hair colour. The herbalist carried a platter, which she set down and disappeared from view. Vindicta moved forward to one of the windows and Thorne came into view. She was rolling a rug back, which revealed a trap door. He observed as she opened the trapdoor and then reached for the platter but turned her head towards the archway from where she had come. Vindicta edged back slightly as Thorne stood up and walked back and through the archway. The witch hunter backed up to the door and tried the handle. It was locked. Vindicta raised his sword and levelled the point of his sword with where the lock ran from door to doorframe.
“ By the One True God, I call on his power within this holy blade, let its might smite this lock and grant me entry,” said Vindicta. The tip of his sword glowed bright white and the light shone into the gap between the door and its frame. Vindicta held the sword steady as the intense light played on the lock, melting the metal causing it to drip to the floor. The witch hunter pulled at the door, it gave a little and he wrenched it harder, the melted lock twisting and the door juddering open. The light vanished from his sword and Vindicta entered quickly, making for the trapdoor and the steps into the basement.
He cast a glance back towards the curtain but there was no sign of Thorne. He looked into the basement and could see it was lit by lanterns, but was unable to see anybody. Vindicta made his way down the stairs and was about halfway down when he was able to see fully into the basement.
“ By his holiness,” he gasped when he saw the emaciated Sanctus prone on the frame. He jumped off the last few steps, scuffing the dirt floor and darted to the side of his brother witch hunter, who lay still, eyes closed.