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 with similar scratches on his legs. Something had worked him over really well.
“Oh no!” a woman sobbed, covering her mouth.
“Charles! No, please not Charles!”
“Get him upstairs to a bed,” I said, pointing to the stairs. “You should call in your healer immediately.”
The people carrying Charles paused looked at me like I was crazy. But if Charles didn’t get help soon, he would be dead!
Lilian cleared her throat. “Elder Charles is our healer. He’s… none of us can help him…”