The Weaver's Source

Chapter 29

It wasn't far, just as the stranger, Arthur, had promised. Soon we were just outside a tall iron gate and high cobbled walls snagged with weeds. I stared at the large house contained within the wall. I couldn't see it very well, the clouds above made sure of that, but the lashes of lightning allowed me to make out a thick, dark stoned building with tall windows and ghastly statues littering its roof and the path leading to its door. I wondered why someone had built something like this in such a secluded area.

"This is it." Arthur stated and opened the iron gate, letting Grigore carry me in.

Grigore didn't let me go as Arthur guided us down the long path but his eyes glanced down at me when he felt me begin to shiver violently. I was so wet now and the rain still continued to fall. I was cold. Very cold. I could feel my bones aching and my skin turning to ice.

"We'll get you warm in a moment, Lyra." I heard Grigore mumble in promise as his arms tightened around me.

I simply nodded, my teeth chattering loudly. Grigore waited impatiently as Arthur fumbled with the door's lock then swept in without hesitating when he stood aside, letting him step inside first. Instantly we were surrounded with darkness but it was dry even if it wasn't much warmer, which I was thankful for. Grigore waited in the middle of the hall, observing the dark surroundings with a keen eye then turned to Arthur when a lamp suddenly burst into life.

"I will take you to a room and gather some fresh clothes for you." Arthur said.

"She'll need warmth." Grigore stated in quite a demanding tone.

Arthur didn't seem to take offence, only smiled. "I can sort that out. I will heat some water for her so she can bathe and organise the fireplace." He said then turned and guided them to the spiral stairs.

Grigore kept close to Arthur as he led him down a twisting hallway littered with uneven paintings and leaning walls. It looked so strange to me, as if the house was crooked.

It was the fifth door in this weird corridor that Arthur stopped and unlocked the door. He shuffled inside, turning on the other gas lamps, giving light to the room. It was a sizeable room armed with In the corner was a room-divider, hiding the oak tub behind it, a fireplace and a soft bed that called to me. It looked warm and I desperately wanted to be beneath the covers, curled in a ball.

"Get out of the wet clothes." Arthur said. "I'll come back with a blanket for you and some fresh warm water."

Grigore watched with a hawk like gaze as he left the room then quickly turned his attentions on me. He placed me on the bed and hovered as I pulled off my boots followed by my sodden stockings. I winced a little. My feet were riddled with blistered, had been for days, they weren't used to walking such great distances. I noticed Grigore frown a little as he hunkered down in front of me, pulling my ice cold feet, red and blistered, into his large hands then he looked up at me with a stern gaze. I noticed his concern growing although my vision was a little blurred. I stifled a cough and ignored the horrible tingling sensation in my throat.

"Strip out of the wet clothes. We need to get you warm and dry." He demanded, abruptly tossing aside whatever anger he'd been nursing towards me this last day.

He helped me slip out of my various layers after watching me struggle to get my numb, stiff fingers to work at all. He left me in my undergarments, shivering and wet, while he busied himself with the fire place. I watched him as best as I could. My eyes were becoming heavy and my mind was getting quite warm and muggy. It wasn't good. I knew I was becoming sick which irritated me faintly. I couldn't afford to get sick, not when Grigore had a hunt to fulfil. I needed to be healthy so I could follow and ensure that dream didn't happen.