The Guardian (Chronicles of Dover's Amalgam Book 1) by Elizabetta Holcomb Read Free Book Online Page B

hand anything over but the load he was hiding.
    Jareth gripped the man’s lapels to tear back the cloak. Gyula took a step back, but Jareth advanced, and leaned forward with narrowed eyes to peer into the ashen face of a dying child. The boy’s skin was so pale it reflected the moon’s light with an eerie glow; his lips were rimmed in blue. Vibrant baby fine red hair was plastered to the child’s skull. He touched the boy’s cheek. “How long has he been unconscious?”
    “A while,” Gyula answered. He spoke briskly as his dull eyes searched the duke’s face.
    Jareth gazed up into the face of the worried father. He glanced over the rough features of Gyula the Mad, a famed warrior who once rode in the last crusade, or so was said. He was named mad for the fact he smiled while killing the heathen. It was also said he had such a great hatred for non-believers that he could not help but be joyful when one fell at his hand in battle.
    Not that he was a religious man, but rather mean and spiteful. The man’s face was mutilated, as if someone had taken a blade to the left side of it. Even if the scars had not been present, he was still a strange, ugly man. He was short, broad shouldered, and appeared to waddle when he walked.
    “You have the gift of the future.” Jareth referred to what he knew as fact in the man’s language. “Why not save me some time and tell me what ails the boy.”
    “Meningitis,” Gyula responded. His arms shifted as though the burden he carried had suddenly become too heavy to bear. Perhaps it was his heart and his soul failing at the mere thought this child could die. The disease process seemed to be advanced by the looks of the fevered child. “But it’s evident that you, your grace, also have the gift of the future. Do you judge me because I dare use it to my advantage?”
    Touché.
    “Percival,” Jareth said, his eyes on Gyula. He took in the harsh lines around the man’s mouth. “Ride before us and prepare a place in the infirmary. We will follow at a slow pace. I have yet to pay my visit to Friar Ephraim.”
    Gyula stiffened. “You dare risk the life of my only son for a Church that will see you burn?”
    Jareth stepped back, his hand protectively touching the satchel that hung over his shoulder, the strap across his heart. He felt it to be sure it was still safe and secure. “What do you know of this?” he asked. His eyes flickered to the orphanage where his contact awaited. “What do you know of my standing with the Church? Speak or so help me, I will kill you first and then watch your child die at your side.”
    “The gossip about you is true,” Gyula sneered. “How eager you are to kill, even those who live in your province. I’m your servant, my lord. Why would you kill someone who is in service to you and your castle?”
    “Tell me what you know. Or shall I show you that the stories are true?” Jareth could not let that slip by, even though a child was literally dying before him. He considered his relationship to the Church his greatest secret, not that he was a guardian of the future Amalgam. Not even the fact he was soon to be an avid time traveler held a candle to the idea that he was aiding a great reformation. Innocent people could be killed just for being linked to him.
    “We are running out of time and you are my only hope,” Gyula said. His voice quivered slightly—the only sign that he was remorseful for his verbal attack. He looked around in the darkness as if searching for another to help him if Jareth refused. “You must take him to Dover or he’ll die. I’ve seen his death, your majesty. It’s why I’m willing to make this exchange with you. The stones for the boy’s life. It’s all I ask.”
    “Precisely so,” Jareth said. “You had better speak quickly, then, Gyula the Mad, or his blood is on your hands. I grow weary of begging your compliance. What do you know of my relations to the Church of Rome? “
    Gyula seemed to gauge the