The Righteous Whisper of Allsaints (The White Blood Chronicles Book 2)

  The Righteous Whisper of Allsaints

  By

  Mark G Heath

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Copyright MG Heath 2015

  The Righteous Whisper of Allsaints

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Allsaints Publishing

  Cover designed by Peter O'Connor

  Of bespokebookcovers.com

  First Edition 2015

  Dedications

  To Simon and Joshua, your smiles have driven me on

  To the players of Destiny, you were the formative grit in making the pearl

  To my personal saint who has fashioned and honed

  Chapter One

  “This is the place,” announced Priest Campion raising his hand to halt their advance.

  “This is the place, where they fell. This is the place where they shall rise.”

  Campion and Gregory Talvace stood for a moment in the barren fields to the east of Aftlain. Darkness stretched ahead of them, somewhere amidst it, the tangled depths of the Forest of Centopani. Intermittently, an unusual sound would emanate from the forest, drifting across the fields before reaching the priest and his accomplice. Neither man paid the hoots and growls any attention, being well used to the strange noises that came from the darkness. Talvace stood beside the priest and raised his lantern in front of him. The orange light picked out a solitary tree that had been left to grow in the field. The tree was dead now; the bark lifeless and the jutting branches were bare of leaves. It was expansive, the myriad of branches forming a vast canopy. Several ropes were tied to various branches, each rope ending in a noose. The hang ropes swayed a little, moved by the breeze, which passed over the field. The tree reached up high, probably six times the height of Campion, he being the taller of the two men. Campion leaned in towards Talvace and carefully opened up a slender book that he was clutching. He tilted it, so that the lantern light spilled across the delicate script that adorned its pages. Talvace’s breath clouded before him as he waited for Campion to finish reading a paragraph from the book. He rubbed his head, regretting not wearing a hat, as the chill nibbled at his ears. The gravedigger looked upwards into the night sky, the glittering stars wheeling far above him. He blinked, staring at the firmament before twisting his neck to look over his shoulder. The moon was out, a half-moon, its light picking out the trees behind him. Beyond, laid the village, but none of its fire and lantern light could be seen through the wall of trees. Talvace turned back to the priest as Campion closed the book and walked around the far side of the tree murmuring and then opening the book, checking something and walking on once more. The gravedigger followed, lantern in one hand and spade in the other, until they were both on the eastern side of the tree, their backs to it. Campion looked around and then surveyed the earth directly in front of them.

  “Is the right place?” asked Talvace. Campion nodded.

  “This is where it lies?” Again Campion gave a nod.

  “So this is what will give us our freedom?” said the gravedigger.

  “It will preserve our freedom Gregory. What I have agreed to recover forms part of the grand design. The culmination of the joint efforts of those of our persuasion and our brother Manfurians. Plus I suppose the death disciples from Nimast as well, although I have not dealt with them, they choose to speak with the Manfurians. You see, what I will give to them, what I have sacrificed through many years of my endeavour, will enable them to further their own ambitions.”

  “What are those father?”

  “They wish to crush the High Church and remove its stifling influence. To do this, they must admit their allies from beyond Albion’s border, to the north and rally those that they have secreted within the kingdom. Their power lies outside of Albion and for a long time, they have failed to penetrate the iron ring that surrounds this kingdom. What I have located for them is a significant piece in their plan to muster sufficient strength to strike from within. In doing so, they will then be in a position to throw open the gates to Albion and allow their brethren to stream in and by doing so, depose the High Church and its hated witch hunters,” explained Campion.

  “So we benefit from the fall of the High Church, is that why we are helping them?”

  “Ultimately yes, but Selne knows how long that might take. No, the reason for us giving our assistance is to secure the freedom of Aftlain. Our brothers and sisters flourish here for two reasons. Firstly, the ancient power that permeates everything and can be harnessed for our benefit, Selne willing. Secondly, our isolation from the world beyond means we are little troubled. I want there to be no trouble. Ever. Accordingly, I have agreed that we of Selne will assist the greater and more ambitious plans of the Manfurians and in doing so, we will be left alone. The High Church will be beaten back and Aftlain will be ours to govern without any interference whatsoever.”

  “How will they achieve that?” asked Talvace.

  “Alas, I am not privy to all of their planning. I do know that the artefact I have located for them is of significance so that it will enable them to muster sufficient force to set in motion their master plan. In order to muster this force they need this artefact and also the works of Ilberd.”

  “Ilberd? What is he doing?”

  “He has to create an elixir that is instrumental in combining with this artefact to increase its efficacy. My instructions describe it as an Elixir of Calling. I am not entirely sure how it is made, he will not tell me, saying I would not understand it. You know how lofty he is when it comes to discussing his work. All I know is that I have been tasked to ensure he delivers it and does so soon, with their arrival close at hand,” explained Campion.

  “Has he nearly completed it then?”

  “Not yet, he seems to be about other things, much to my irritation. Something else is occupying his mind. It needs to vacate that huge mind of his as the elixir must be created and soon. The very heart of Aftlain depends on it.”

  “As ever father, you have the good of Aftlain in your heart,” said Talvace.

  “Yes I have,” smiled the priest.

  “So, we give them what we find, they can then do whatever it is they need to do topple the High Church and we keep Aftlain the way we like it?”

  “Absolutely. There will be no conflict here. That much I have secured. Our way of life will continue as we prefer it. The coming storm will rage far from our village. I was most keen to gather that assurance,” replied Campion.

  “May Selne bless the sacrifices you make for us father,” said Talvace and bowed his head. Campion nodded and smiled. The priest surveyed the ground before him and then turned to his sidekick.

  “I need your fiery breath on this patch just in front of me, Gregory,” ordered the priest to the gravedigger.

  Talvace set his lantern down on the frozen ground, the orange light bleeding into the darkness. Campion stood still, his robes flapping in the cold breeze, which eddied across this gap in the otherwise encompassing forest.

  “Here?” queried Talvace pointing at the earth in front of the priest.

  “Yes. Do a strip about five paces long and two wide.”

  “As you wish, father.”

  Talvace lowered to the earth the spade he had carried from his lodgings and paced about the patch of land that Campion had indicated. He halted and leant his head backwards; mouth slightly ajar, as a clicking noi
se emanated from his throat. After a moment a small flame flickered into being, before it then flared from his mouth and out into the night. Talvace leaned forward; placing his rough hands on his thighs and issued forth a jet of bright yellow-white flame. It billowed outwards and struck the ground, the heat melting the top frost. Waddling like a duck, he moved along the strip of earth, hands still on his thighs, as if removing them would cause him to topple over. The spurting flame lit up Campion’s face as he watched, the slender book held tight to his chest, eyes wide in anticipation. Talvace moved his baldhead slowly from side to side, playing the jet of flame onto the ground and then inching forward. After covering an area the equivalent to that roughly prescribed by Campion, he snapped his mouth shut and extinguished the flame, the darkness creeping back around them.

  “ Will that suffice?” asked Campion, prodding the smoking ground with a booted foot.

  “ Aye, that will have easily melted the top frost I reckon,” answered Talvace.

  “ Good. You had better start digging then.”

  “ As you say so, father,” responded the obedient gravedigger. He bent over and plucked up the spade. Hefting it in his strong hands, he thrust the head of the spade into the earth, which easily yielded, and he began to dig into the field. The ground lay bare; the harvest of crops had been collected several weeks previously. Now, the dark earth lay dormant, the silver-white glistening frost covering it, save where Talvace’s flames had embraced the land. With a steady rhythm, Talvace dug into the earth, shovelling the dirt to one side, his shadow mimicking his movement.

  “ How far down is it?” asked Talvace as he continued his work, sweat gathering on his exposed head.

  “ I don’t know for certain. All I know is that it is here, or rather, if I have interpreted the book correctly and I believe I have, it should be here,” replied Campion.

  “ Right. Just that I wanted to gauge where it might be, I don’t want a thrust of my spade to damage it.”

  “ Don’t be concerned about that. Your spade won’t harm it.”

  “When you said we were doing some digging out here, I thought you had somebody to hide.”

  “Hmm, no, there is little room out here for more bodies. Besides, Ilberd would never forgive me if I disposed of a body without offering it to him first.”

  “Aye, that would be right,” replied Talvace. He shifted another spadeful of earth and then glanced to his left.

  “ Father, someone is coming.”

  Campion moved away from the tree and saw a pale, yellow light moving steadily towards them, from the direction of the village. He squinted but could only make out a slender figure, which was walking casually towards them. The figure appeared to be carrying something on its shoulder. Talvace moved out of the small hole that he had dug and stood alongside Campion, the spade held ready to attack the intruder.

  “ Who approaches?” called Campion in his confident baritone.

  “Ah it’s you father,” came the answer.

  “ Odd time to be gardening,” commented the new arrival

  “ Oh, it’s Eustace,” said Campion as the mercenary came into view. Talvace lowered the spade as the threat waned. Reznik halted and then bent over as he deposited the limp body of a young woman on the ground. Her small frame lay on the frigid ground.

  “ Carry on Gregory,” ordered Campion and the gravedigger returned to his task.

  “ Praise Selne,” said Reznik to the holy man.

  “ Praise Selne,” responded Campion, raising his hand and making a cutting motion with two fingers.

  “ What brings you out here Captain?”

  “I have this to get rid of,” replied the mercenary as he nudged the unmoving woman with his polished boot, “I saw your lantern light and thought I had better take a look see.”

  “ Well, as you can see, it is just Gregory and I.”

  “ Indeed. You work this fellow too hard Father.” Reznik plucked his pipe from a pocket, jabbing the end towards the labouring gravedigger.

  “Nonsense. Keeps him from bothering the village ladies, doesn’t it Gregory?”

  “Now Father, that was a long time ago, you know that,” responded Talvace. Reznik gave a short laugh and packed his pipe with an herb from a pouch on his belt.

  “ I thought the graveyard was next to the church,” commented Reznik.

  “ Your thought is correct,” answered Campion.

  “ I don’t see a body, well other than her,” said Reznik looking about them.

  “ That’s because there is no body. Anybody would think that all I do is bury people, according to you two.”

  “ Well, you do generate a fair few bodies, that much is fair comment.”

  “ I play my part for the village.”

  “ Yes, yes you do, Father. We all do.”

  “Indeed and that obligation grows ever more pressing.”

  Campion bent down and brushed the long blonde hair back from covering the face of the young woman. She was still in her teens although her body had embraced womanhood.

  “Molly Gadloom,” commented Campion as he recognised the girl.

  “Yes, one of Master Lancaster’s er friends. He was too enthusiastic with her,” replied Reznik.

  “Another one,” said Reznik as he stood up.

  “What are you going to do with her? Have you offered her to Ilberd?”

  “Of course. He said he was too busy to find any use for her,” said Reznik

  “So, what do you intend to do with her?”

  “I was going to leave her in the forest,” answered Reznik pointing into the distance, “ and tell Isiah, her father, that she had been snatched by the darkness that lurks amongst the trees.”

  Campion nodded.

  “Mind you, it seems as if Gregory might save me a hike across the fields.”

  “Yes you can leave her with us,” answered Campion.

  “Excellent, now I don’t have to tell Isiah anything.”

  “You ought to have some explanation ready for her disappearance, they will accept her vanishing all the more readily that way.”

  “Well don’t blame me for this one,” said Talvace, “I don’t want to be taken to the Keep, not when I have not done anything.”

  “Don’t worry Gregory, I am sure Captain Reznik will apply his imagination in a suitable way.”

  Reznik fell silent and looked across at Campion. The priest’s gaze was fixed on his underling and Reznik gave a nod to himself.

  “I understand Kathryn has been the one to succeed,” commented the mercenary.

  “Indeed she has.”

  “I thought I had Thaindire, we have a connection, as soldiers.”

  “Well, it was not strong enough to oust the allure of Miss Dromgoole was it? Not that it is over,” answered Campion.

  “Indeed. I suspect there will be further attempts to ensnare the white blood, notwithstanding the understanding.”

  “I suspect you are correct. I do hope that Kathryn allows his use for the greater well-being of the village. I have not been able to speak to her so far.”

  “You may struggle there. It would not surprise me if she takes certain steps to double her vigilance. The village will be looking for ways to snatch her prize from her,” replied Reznik.

  “True, true. I remain confident however that once she has spoken with me then she will share Thaindire and there will not be any need for further attempts to capture the witch hunter. I certainly hope she sees sense given the requirements of the Manfurians.”

  “ So,” said Reznik, “when do they arrive?”

  “Tomorrow evening,” answered Campion continuing to watch the gravedigger.

  “Haven’t you cut it rather fine then, you know, searching for it now?”

  “I am finding it now, Eustace. I am finding it. I have been searching for it for three years, or rather, searching for this,” Campion held the thin tome aloft, “in order to find it.”

  “Right. I just thought with them arriving tomorrow it seemed rather late
to be searching, sorry, finding it now.”

  “The Manfurians will stay for as long as is necessary. If this means waiting until it is unearthed, then so be it. Besides, it’s not as if Ilberd has his side of the equation ready is it?”

  “Don’t know about that, I haven’t seen him for a few days, not that that is unusual,” said Reznik.

  “ You know, you should have brought a spade with you, you would be more use helping Gregory than querying my timetable.”

  “Father, you should have said. Pity mind, I have a round to make. Keep an eye out and all that.”

  “You’re not peeking in through people’s windows are you?” said Campion with a slight smile.

  “Not me, that’s Gregory’s job,” answered Reznik.

  “I heard that,” muttered the gravedigger, “ that was a misunderstanding as well you know.”

  “If you insist, Gregory,” said Reznik. A gust of wind caused their lanterns to flicker and reminded Reznik of the warmth of his fireplace at home.

  “ Here, Gregory,” called Reznik, “ if you don’t mind.” The Captain moved across to the gravedigger and held his pipe out in front of him.

  “ Cease bothering him, Eustace, he has work to do.”

  “ I Won’t be a moment.”

  Talvace sighed and ramming the spade into the ground, turned and generated a small flame once again from his mouth and played it onto the end of the pipe. Reznik leaned in and puffed on it, causing the lit herb to flare orange and a wisp of smoke to curl away on the breeze.

  “ Much obliged,” said Reznik with a nod of his head, “ well, I will let you gents get on with your gardening. I won’t tell Alyssia.” Reznik laughed again and picked up his lantern.

  “ Good evening Eustace,” called Campion to the retreating back of the mercenary who gave a laconic wave of the lantern, swinging it to and fro as he walked back across the fields to the village.