Page 61 of A Kingdom of Lies
“Hetold me to come here,” I finally said, feeling the heat of the ancient man’s gaze as it skimmed across the points of my ears.
“Then in you come.” He bowed his head, gesturing with the candle for us to enter. “Quickly, please, before you’re seen.”
I took a step, neck straining as I hoisted Duncan’s limp body over the threshold.
“It would seem you have both had an eventful evening,” the man began, the tone of his voice soft and welcoming. He ushered me out of the way, peeping out into the dark to see if anyone had watched us before shutting the door.
“He’s badly hurt,” I muttered, cringing as the door snapped against its frame. “There was a lot of blood.”
Hunter’s blood. Erix’s blood.
My fault.
“Duncan Rackley always had a way of getting himself in trouble. Come, follow me. I will not profess that I’m a man of healing, but I will do what I can to help.”
A chill coursed through my body, numbing my arms and legs. I couldn’t move. I stood frozen as the man began to waddle down the corridor. He must have sensed my hesitation, for he turned and glowered at me.
“What is the matter?”
“I didn’t tell you his name,” I said through a lump in my throat.
The man smiled, shoulders relaxing as though he was a friend feeling comfortable in another’s company. “No, I suppose you didn’t. If there is one thing I remember better than my prayers, it is a name. Now, let us hurry before he bleeds out upon the floor, shall we? It would be hard to explain to the morning clergy why there’s blood staining the carpets.”
I kept still, arm tightening around Duncan’s side, unable to take a step to follow him. The old man noticed, offering me what felt like a pitiful smile.
“You are welcome within my walls, young man,” he said. “Pointed ears or not, the Creator’s home is a place for all. However, the breeze you’re letting in isn’t. Inside, now. I have some reacquainting to do with General Rackley.”
CHAPTER 21
I hoisted the heavy body of the Hunter up the winding staircase. My legs screamed with pain and my back was crying out with just as much agony. There was no denying my body needed rest. Whereas my mind was another story. By the time I had reached the final step I hardly cared for the man I trailed behind. I was more concerned with not giving up and dropping Duncan.
Just when I believed the stairs would never end, the floor levelled out into a narrow room with a low ceiling. Each inhale was filled with the thick scent of incense, spicy and strong, though there were no signs of smoke. It seemed the smell was absorbed in the walls of the church itself.
“Forgive my choice of room for you,” the man said, huffing from the climb. He was doubled over, cheeks flushed with red veins. “It would be best that your stay here is kept between us. If the people of Ayvbury find out their trusted priest is harbouring the likes ofyourkind within these walls, I would be driven out.”
“I thought you said the fey were welcome here,” I said.
“I wasn’t talking about you, dearest boy.”
I looked around the attic space of the church, absorbing the details. I almost collapsed at the sight. A room much like the one I had left behind in Grove waited before me. There was a single bed with sun-stained sheets in a bundle upon the mattress. Around it, piles of books and scrolls littered the floor, some in boxes, others in wonky stacks beside them.
A single round window stained with blues, reds and yellows gave view to the dark night beyond. The man hobbled around the room, lighting many candles with the one he’d carried with him. Once the glow spread my eyes were able to make out more details, the most obvious being the large brass bell which took up the middle of the room with greedy pride. Its presence surprised me. It hung from a rusted chain, a frayed cord waiting at its side. Pulling it would be one way of waking the entire town.
“Put Duncan down on the bed,” the man commanded through shaky breaths. “Then you will find some white cloths within the trunk over there. Get some out and bring them to me.”
Hesitation thrummed through me at entrusting Duncan’s care to a stranger, but I was tired and desperate to remove the added weight. Exhausted, the final steps towards the bed were the hardest. I had to peel Duncan from my side, our clothes stuck together with blood, dirt and melted snow. Duncan flopped down onto the bed, the glow of the candles highlighting just how pale his skin had become.
“Will he be okay?” I murmured, finally seeing just how terrible he looked.
“Just get the cloths, and we shall find out.”
I did as he commanded without further hesitation, obtaining the folded material from the trunk as requested, a layer of dust around my fingers; this room was covered in it.
As I got back to Duncan’s side, the old man was already waiting, perched on a short stool. He held the back of his swollen hand to Duncan’s head, expression pinched in concentration. “His temperature is rather high, although that would be no corelation to an infection since the wound is fresh. It’s too early to confirm if that would cause an issue. Likely a concussion, since the wound is superficial and the bleeding has already stopped. Praise the Creator that he still has a pulse. If you had arrived any later, he may have been far past the point of healing. It’s the frostbite I’m concerned about.”
The old man took a cloth from my shaking hands without thanks and pulled out an intricate glass jar from the folds of his robes, uncorking it with his teeth. I watched, helpless, as he poured the liquid onto the square of material until it was drenched through.
“Hold him up,” he demanded. “Slow and careful.”
