(THOB) Chapter 77: Did Father Tenshaw make it? (Patreon)

Ezril’s thoughts were duly and properly broken. He narrowed his gaze, squinting at the rush of light flooding his vision, and knew he was elsewhere.

Ezril blinked against the brightness. The action was slow, bereft of enthusiasm. He laid on a soft cushion, a bed unlike the one he had placed his head on the past few months.

Turning his head, he surveyed his environment. It smelled of herbs, reminding him of Father Yesuan and the priest’s room in the seminary. This room, however, was small enough to contain one bed upon which he laid, but large enough to hold two, perhaps three, before becoming congested. The light that sought to blind him came from the window above his head. It was taller than it was wide. It was also the only window the room possessed, revealing light the length of his body, subsequently bathing him in it.

The walls and floor spoke of a room cleaned out perhaps sometime within the past week. The clutters of moss that clung to the corners of the room where the walls met the floor spoke of a hurried and poor work, at that.

Perhaps a once abandoned store room, he concluded, then continued his survey.

The wall adjacent to him was adorned with glass jars filled with herbs and plants of different kinds. They sat atop wooden platforms, rested without stress, untainted by the dust he’d expected to see. He was fairly certain one of them was a vial of elixir.

Titan blood, he remembered with distaste. His gaze glided over the room a while longer before settling on the only thing he found conspicuous.

She sat before the entrance. Her habit was a pale blue cascading down to rest gently below her ankle. She was clearly unaware of his state of consciousness which, if he was correct, was the reason she sat alone with him. The last time Ezril had seen a sister of the church was during his spiritual service. Save that, the only other time was during his ordination where the priestesses had flanked the Arch-bishop on both sides. He frowned at his inability to recall the Arch-bishop’s name.

Groaning, he sat up. The action was relatively as slow as when he had blinked. His muscles protested the decision. Another groan escaped his lips as he forced himself to his feet.

“Father Antari,” the sister started, before rising to meet him.

“Leave me be,” he said, cutting her off before she could reach him. “I can walk on my own.”

The girl watched him warily, wondering, clearly torn between obedience to whatever instructions she had been giving regarding him or obedience to him. The fear in her eyes won out and she increased the distance between them cautiously.

Wise choice.

Ezril’s ears twitched, and the girl started as Shade’s howl echoed through the air.

“Someone shut that damn beast up!” someone yelled. “Where is Father Olufemi?!... someone find me Father Olufemi!”

Ezril smiled. It had been a voice he couldn’t recognize, but he was glad to hear his brother’s name.

Clad in his cassock, he noticed the absence of his Sunders anywhere in the room, and the knowledge that the room was situated at the foot of the tower. With the realization came the feeling of the absence of his bow. He turned his gaze on the sister in search of information and, noticing how she squirmed under his gaze, wondered what exactly she saw as she stared at him in fear.

“Don’t look at her like that,” someone chided from outside the room, “you’ll scare the child.”

This voice he recognized with a frown. It was feminine and promised an ability to talk for days if need be.

“I see you’re still as bashful as ever, Father Antari.” The woman stepped into the room, turned to the younger sister, and added. “Go to Sister Snow. Tell her the Lord Commander requests her presence.”

Relieved, the girl left the room with so much haste a Titan could’ve been chasing after her.

Ezril, however, had caught the expression on the young sister’s face at the knowledge of her errand. It was an expression he and his brothers had displayed when they were in the seminary whenever Father Talod called for one of them. Clearly the girl had chosen what she deemed the lesser of two evils. Still, whatever she’d chosen remained an evil to her.

Ezril moved towards the exit, his feet shuffling across the surface of the floor. “And I see you’re still as cheerful as ever, Sister Alanna,” he said finally, making a failed attempt to rise from his hunched form to his full height.

Alanna picked the vial he’d noted from its place before returning to the door as she chuckled in response.

She stopped pathway to observe him briefly then asked, “You’re sure you don’t need my help?”

Ezril shook his head gently. “There’s no need for it,” he assured her. “It’s just a mild vertigo.”

She scrutinized him a while longer but said nothing. Seeming convinced by his answer, she walked out the door and he followed.

Walking proved a difficult ordeal for Ezril. While he frowned at having Alanna slow her pace for his sake, the head ache that came with each step bore down significantly on his endurance. More than determined not to rely on Alanna, he walked at his own pace, occasionally having to lean on the wall for support, all the time making a point to avoid her gaze, one she bore with a wide grin.

After a considerable period of time Alanna turned to him, offering him the vial she had claimed from the room. “Drink this,” she said. “It should help.”

He placed a hand to his head in an attempt to still its ache. With his other hand, he took the vial, displaced the stopper, and downed its contents. Alanna’s eyes widened in alarm and he scowled at her.

“What?”

She sighed. “Have you never seen an elixir in use, Father Antari.”

“I have.”

“I highly doubt that,” she countered. “If you have, you’d know it should be taken in mild sips.” She returned her attention to the path before them. “Well, seeing as you survived such amounts of Titan blood, I’m fairly certain you can survive a full gulp.”

They walked a while longer before Ezril broke the silence.

“What’s with this Sister Snow?” he asked, hoping to change the topic, knowing she would prefer to dwell on his state when she spoke again, which he was certain she would. The idea of speaking of his poisoning left him queasy.

“Ah, Sister Snow.” The words sounded both impressed and sarcastic.

Ezril was certain he heard an uneven mix of admiration and dislike in it too. Sister Snow was surely a sister of few friends.

“She’s actually a priestess but we call her sister because to us she is a sister,” Alanna continued without pause. “No one really likes her, though, and I’m fairly certain she doesn’t like anyone either… come to think of it, she’s quite shrewd, even for a priestess, and terrible at conversations.” She made a show of thinking before turning her attention to Ezril. “She’s eerily familiar to a certain priest I know.”

Ezril fixed her with a glare, and though she fought to choke back a chuckle, it spilled for as easily as water from a broken drum. Still, she said no more on the subject.

They walked a while further, taking a turn that was not the first in their journey. Ezril wondered if the maze of arched hallways they walked had always been a part of the tower, and how he had never noticed it. Because you only care about where you and your brothers lay your head.

“Did Father Tenshaw make it?” The moment the question left his lips Ezril found himself dreading it.

Alanna cocked a puzzled brow. “Oh! The other priest,” she realized after a moment. “Yes, yes. He made it alright. His been up for the past week,” she added. “He woke before I came. It did take him a while to get his feet back though. But that’s to be expected since Nixarv has been working none stop to ensure his survival. Unlike you, he was responsive to treatment. It made continued treatment motivational.”

“Oh.” Ezril’s voice was deep, and his throat dry. He needed more liquid than the elixir had offered him. “And I have been out for how long?”

“Four weeks.”

Ezril sighed mentally. “I see.”

Alanna observed him with an expression of compassion. Though, it could’ve easily been pity. “If it’s any consolation,” she told him, “they thought you dead. Even Nixarv was lost on what to do.” She dusted her habit of nonexistent stains. “According to him, you took four times the dosage of the others and you responded to no treatments. After two days, you were cold as ice. By Truth, the only reason they didn’t give you to the flame was because you were still breathing.”

“And the room?”

“Oh, that.” She waved a dismissive hand. “The Lord Commander thought it a good idea to keep you away from the public eye. He said it was meant to keep panic from spreading.” She scoffed. “I think it was a case of out of sight, out of mind.”

Ezril frowned, unable to comprehend why Lord Oddor would’ve done such a thing. It was completely unlike the man.

The light of the sun scorched his skin as they stepped out into the open, free from the cavernous confines of the hallway, and he realized how cold he felt, something that had proved to elude his attention whilst they were in the hallway.

“Is there a cloak I could make use of nearby, Sister?” he asked.

Alanna turned to him, perplexed. “I doubt that.” She frowned mildly in her confusion. “They said you rarely wore your cassock but I didn’t think you disliked being seen in it this much.”

Ezril bit back the response that poked at his lips and rather said, “Never mind. Pay it no heed.”

The keep was busy, rifled with soldiers amongst which Ezril was certain he had never seen in his stay, perhaps the reinforcements the Lord Commander claimed the king was to send in time. Four weeks, he thought. How long was I in there in those weeks?

“Someone find me Father Olufemi!” a voice bellowed from one side of the fort.

Ezril turned his head to the sound. He shut his eyes immediately, banishing the dizziness that came with the reflexive action and bit back the curse at the tip of his tongue. When he opened them again, the light proved brighter, and it took a moment for his vision to clear. Why couldn’t I have woken in the night.