Angelica ran back inside and gave Soren an imploring look.

“We need to get Charles to a bed. Can he come in?”

“Of course. There is a room at the top of the hall,” Soren said.

Several women and elders came through the door, carrying an even older man. He was unconscious and pale with white, messy hair. He had to be at least sixty years old.

His arms were covered in bloody scratches, some really deep, and his pats were torn ...