Page 75 of A Kingdom of Lies

The humans had never been to blame for the monsters, of course I knew that now.

Duncan took a hold of me by my arms, fingers holding on tight. “You are not going anywhere. Not with the gryvern, nor whoever is sent next to retrieve you. We should have left days ago and been ahead of them. Fuck! This is my fault.”

“Stop it,” I spluttered, reaching for his face with a gentle touch. “Calm yourself down and focus. I’ve dealt with the creatures before and will not let them best me. Abbot.” I turned my attention to the old man where he stood. There was something strong about his stance, legs apart and arms in fists at his side. I could imagine that he had faced horrors before just from the expression of readiness. “We need weapons.”

“A man of God is never unprepared to face his foe,” he replied, feet thundering as he moved with haste from the room.

The screams beyond the church no longer belonged solely to the creatures. Humans cried, in horror or pain I couldn’t see from our haven. A horde of the beasts flew beyond the window, shapes no more than dark outlines that blotted out the light as they passed beyond. Glass shattered and wood snapped. But from all the sounds that scratched at my soul, it was those curdling screams of the humans that set fire to the anger within me.

“This needs to end,” I said, flinching as something heavy crashed into the church wall. “Doran will never stop coming for me. His obsession with my line has gone too far.”

I was furious, sick to death of being chased by a man who had already taken so much. There was nothing else for him to hurt me with, nothing more for him to take.

“Then we end it. Together,” Duncan replied as Abbot Nathanial burst back into the room.

Held in his shaking hands was a sheathed sword, bound in brown hide and a cream strip of material. Much like the weapon Duncan had left in the ruins of our party, it was broad and long, one that would require two hands to wield it.

“It’s been many a year since this blade last saw light.” Duncan took it from Nathanial, testing the weight of it in his hands. “But a blade is a blade, do with it what you must–”

The window shattered, glass cutting skin as it rained down upon us. I whipped my head to the side, throwing a hand up to save myself from the slicing agony. It happened quickly, too fast to act. Wind pulled at my hair, drifts of snow falling within the broken wall of the church. And blocking the chaos outside was a gryvern.

Shards of coloured glass embedded into its pale, grotesque skin. A stench so vile, pungent like rotting flesh, wafted through the church with each beat of the creature’s leathery wings. But it wasn’t the gryvern that made the bile burn up my throat, but what it held within the clasp of its talons.

“Nathanial,” Duncan bellowed the name just as my soul screamed it.

Abbot Nathanial hung within the gryvern’s grasp, feet kicking at open air. His mouth was split open in a scream, but no noise came out beside a raspy breath, tears streaming down his terrified face. Scarlet blood dripped from the wounds upon his arms, the gryvern’s talons cutting deep, through flesh and muscle. I was certain I had heard a bone snap.

Duncan was screaming beside me, aged and blunt sword free from its sheath.

His cries were useless.

We watched, helpless, as the gryvern tore Nathanial’s limbs apart with ease. The sound of flesh ripping had this morning’s food spilling out across the books and glass strewn over the ground. The wet smack of his body against tiles echoed, torn, bloodied arms following as the gryvern discarded them.

He was dead before his skull cracked against the ground, eyes wide, skin ashen.

All I saw was red, blood and anger joining as one. My ears thundered with the pounding of emotion as I studied the broken, ripped and shattered body of the abbot.

Duncan rushed forward, sword raised and shouting. The gryvern lunged to greet him. Steel passed through skin until black gore rained down upon Duncan who slid beneath the attacking beast. Head severed, the gryvern crashed into the altar, cracking its warped bones against the marble. Candles fell, flames catching within an instant against the dry walls of the church. In moments the fire demanded control. This was their place of worship, scorching fingers crawling as it spread itself hungrily across the skin of the gryvern and the building around it.

“We need to go!” I shouted over the chaos, another gryvern circling through the air in response to my cry. I could see them past the shattered window, maws bloodied and talons full of human meat.

Duncan was hunched over the abbot’s body, as still as a guarding statue. When he looked to me, skin sticky with gryvern blood, his eyes burned red. He looked as much the monster as the creature he had slaughtered.

“I’ll kill every fucking one of them,” he seethed, spit flying through his mouth, expression softening only when he looked back to the body of the abbot at his feet. “No mercy. They all die.”

“Together,” I repeated the sentiment he had shared before hell was unleashed upon us. I could not look at Abbot Nathanial. I did everything in my power to look away; ignoring his broken, bloodied body was the only thing keeping me safe from the guilt.

Another death because of me.

Wasted life.

Duncan took the hand I offered, his fingers slicked with dark gore from the gryvern. I had to urge him to his feet, coaxing him with a song of his name to look at me.

“I didn’t get a chance to tell him I was sorry,” Duncan said, voice a muted whisper.

“He knew,” I said, still fighting the urge to look at the body as the fire continued to devour the church.

“I should have said it to him. I had the fucking chance!”

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