The Violet Thread (Part One: Portal Rods)

Chapter Fourteen

As soon as the last of the sun's rays had completely disappeared and the moon was high overhead, the door to the cottage opened and several figures cloaked in darkness followed the path leading out of the garden. Once everyone was assembled in the clearing, Violet took a deep breath and began pulling on the elements and flowing them into the patterns for the Veurvenja shield. She wrapped them around herself first, then Sawyer, followed by Wyeth, Katia, and Arach. When she had finished, she lowered her hands and looked at them, a frustrated crease in her forehead.

"This protection is not designed for people. I wish I had more time to figure out how to more effectively mask our abilities. I added a bit more wind to help with the fluidity of our movements, so they should hold for a little while...I think. I don't know. It will help, at least."

"I'm sure it'll be enough," Katia said encouragingly.

"It'll have to be," Wyeth added. "I still think you should have let me bring the sword."

Arach growled. "That thing is darker than you can imagine." The wound in his side pulsed. It was not a pain or even an ache, just a reminder that evil had touched him there. "I'll not be privy to you playing with things you don't understand."

"We're not arguing about it anymore," Katia said firmly, planting her hands on her hips. "We agreed the sword was too dangerous for us to wield without further study."

They nodded to each other and Katia planted the portal rods firmly into the ground. Violet wrapped them in air. Using only a single element was as simple as breathing to her now.

Arach closed his eyes, took hold of a rod, and thought of the tree lined hill on the backside of the Gavin's offices. Sawyer took hold of the other and allowed threads of water to flow into the rods. A crack split the silence and the light flashed as the the group rushed through the portal. They hoped Violet had protected anyone else from seeing or hearing the portal rods, but they didn't want to take any chances. Dot and Dora gave them a confident wave from the other side, but their eyes were anxious as the light winked out. They stood motionless and glanced around, making sure no one had noticed their arrival. A twig snapped and Katia spun her staff with lightning speed and held it ready to strike. The others eyed her with a mixture of shock and respect. Sawyer picked up the rods and handed one to Wyeth. They lifted up their left pant legs and inserted the rods into holsters tied around their calves.

"You're not the only one strapped tonight," Wyeth snickered at Katia, adjusting his pant leg and taking a step to make sure it was positioned correctly. He nodded to himself and headed down the hill, Katia and Arach behind him.

Sawyer grabbed Violet's arm before she could follow. "I don't care if you get mad at me for saying it," he began in a whisper. "Please be careful tonight. We don't know what we're walking into." His voice was calm but his eyes mirrored the twins' trepidation. She put her hand on his cheek and smiled.

Wyeth turned and in a hushed voice called, "Are you two coming? What are you waiting for?"

Sawyer turned without waiting for her response and followed, stretching out a hand to help her down the hill. When they reached the outside of the familiar archway, there was a simultaneous hesitation. They looked to each other for cues. In stories, people breaking into a building did research. They scouted and cased routines and blueprints. This band had walked in blind and they were acutely aware of their shortcomings. But time was not on their side. They did not have months or weeks or even days to plan. This had to be done now and that was the driving force. Violet nodded with coerced confidence and stepped through the stone archway.

#

The monolith in the center of the courtyard towered above them. A marble carved man with downcast eyes stood next to a three tiered fountain. Two bronze ringlets clung on his upper left thigh and his large arms pinned a stone carved sword across his chest. A memento from an ancient war, no doubt. At the base of the statue, just in between its toes were orange lilies and blue lobelia, placed directly below the line of sight-at least they had been-the eyes of the rugged statue were staring straight ahead at two suits of armor that loomed in the entrance way to the building, polished guards standing sentry, ancient relics left to impress any that crossed the threshold. A patch of calla lilies, white faded to dark purple edging, grew on either side of their planted metallic feet, a sharp contrast between the natural beauty of the gardens and the grotesque absurdity of the statues.