A Frost Of Fear And Fortitude (The Levanthria Series) by A.P Beswick

Author:A.P Beswick [Beswick, A.P]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A.P Beswick Publications
Published: 2022-11-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter

Ten

The night seemed to last forever even though for Gregor, it did not matter whether it was day or night. This body did not need to sleep. He lay on the bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, even tried closing his eyes to see if he was able to sleep, but his efforts were in vain. There had been no news on the girls prior to retiring for the night. When the last of the villagers left for their homes, Gregor remained with Morath to help clean up the tavern, happy for the distraction.

Now, his thoughts whirled around his mind like a cyclone, unable to move on, unable to switch his focus to anything else. The curse, the dybukks, Shae and Freya. Who had cursed that family?

The room where Igraine was frantically trying her hardest to heal the girls was just a couple doors down from him, and every so often Gregor would hear the sound of Igraine’s chanting getting louder and louder. She spoke in a tongue that he could not decipher, though he suspected it was Elvish, for somehow he knew that Elvish magic contained healing qualities. Outside, the snow was constant and unforgiving, and Gregor hoped that Morath had made it home. The man had insisted that Fjorn, the god of ice, had pelted them with far worse storms than this.

“Just how many bastard gods are there,” Gregor muttered, exhaling loudly. What he would have given for a decent night’s sleep, to find some form of solace. For just a moment’s reprieve from this eternal consciousness he had been ‘gifted’ with by the gods. Why would they leave him unable to sleep? Why would they allow an innocent family to be slaughtered, for demons to do what they had to those girls?

Gregor had to pull himself back from his thoughts as they darkened. Was he in fact cursed, or was it a gift that he had been given? His anger at the gods whipped up a storm that could rival the blizzard outside. He let out another groan of frustration and sat up. Waiting here was useless. He donned his boots and readied to go downstairs.

There was a timid knock at the door, quiet enough to not wake Gregor if he was sleeping, but loud enough to get his attention if he wasn’t.

Gregor unlatched the door and pulled it open slightly to see a dishevelled looking Jura on the other side. Her eyes were purple and sagged, her face red and blotchy.

“It’s the girls.”

Gregor’s heart sank once more at Jura’s sullen words, fearing the worst.

“Igraine wants to see you.” She shuffled away down the corridor again, locking herself in her room. Gregor walked down the short corridor to the bedroom where the girls were and took a deep breath before lightly knocking.

“Come in,” a soft, reassuring voice called back to him.

Gregor opened the door, not sure if he could take what he was about to see.

When he entered, Igraine was placing wet flannel across the girls’ brows.

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