The Violet Thread (Part One: Portal Rods)

Chapter Nine

Katia stopped pacing the deck and grabbed hold of the railing, her bottom lip quivering as she saw shadows round the corner. She had pulled anchor as soon as she received Wyeth's message a few days ago. The fleet docked one town over, as they had done before, and she had come alone into town this morning. Bethy had tried to ride with her, sweet girl, but Katia had insisted on going alone. She was unsure how long the rest of the gypsies would continue following her wild whims, but she would push them until the bitter end if she had to. She had shared what needed to be shared as her position demanded, but this situation called for a delicacy that was unconventional, to say the least. Her argument with Miranda, one of the boat mistresses, had been fierce. She had not said anything beyond her station, or even anything that was untrue. But, the ferocity with which she had argued with Katia was something unusual for the pair. She was used to being on the same side. For years, Katia adamantly protected the fleet from exactly what she was now doing, endangering and exposing them for what they were. She had a lot of time to think about the balance of responsibilities while waiting, pacing the boat since docking early this morning.

But now, she watched and as the shadows turned to figures, Katia could see that they were dragging something. She had used Ness' cloak before and recognized its translucent properties immediately.

"Oh, no. God, no," she whimpered to herself.

Lifting her skirts, she ran to meet them ashore. A pang of guilt hit her stomach as a flood of relief washed over her when she saw her children were unharmed. She looked around the river bank. A curtain fluttered on a red brick building and they froze in the darkness. Katia look up at the blackened windows of the buildings searching for prying eyes, but found none looking back. They had made it through town without raising suspicions and didn't want to begin now. Katia lifted the cloak and looked underneath.

"What is it?" She asked quietly.

"He is a drakond and her needs your help. Quickly," Violet added curtly.

Katia nodded and rushed them onto the boat. Getting Arach down the narrow stairs proved a bit problematic, but they managed to get him below and laid out on the couch without too much difficulty. At least he was unconscious so there wasn't any more pain inflicted. Katia ripped open his shirt the rest of the way and pulled back the towels Wyeth had wrapped.

"Get me some fresh towels and water to start," she snapped, putting her hand over the wound and applying pressure. She recoiled, gasped, inhaled deeply, and affixed her palm onto the wound. She winced and furrowed her brow, pressing with all her strength.

"Are you alright?" Sawyer asked, handing her a pile of towels from the bathroom.

Wyeth set the kettle on the ground beside her.

"Whatever did this...it was that sword wasn't it? Never mind, no time now. The dark magic tainting his venation will kill him soon if the loss of blood doesn't get him first."

She set the towels atop the gaping hole in his stomach and nodded for Sawyer to take over applying pressure.

"Heat up the kettle. We need to clean it before we do anything else. At least it was a clean cut, makes the closure easier, if nothing else."

She crossed to her cabinets and rifled through the potions. "I've never seen anything like it," she said to herself.

She touched a small, clear glass jar with a purple ointment inside. She moved on to a cedar wood bowl full of mixed herbs. She took the lid from the bowl and sniffed. Shaking her head, she put the bowl back and selected a flat jade stone, perfectly oval and just barely too large for Katia to close in her palm. Delicately, she touched the inscription. She did not know what it meant. She could not understand the ancient language, but when her own mother had taught her about potions she had given her the stone, telling her that it was a panacea, a last resort only to be used once in an extreme situation. Well, this was as extreme as she had ever seen. Nothing in her collection of elixirs or spells could match what she felt in his wound.