Ink Portals

Refuge

25

Kazunori sat naked in the garden with his eyes shut, subjecting himself to another one of his cold-therapy treatments in the snow. His mind was wondering, listening to the wind passing gently through the tree branches; then the breeze brought the sound of flapping wings to his ears. He broke his meditation and saw a bird approaching. It seemed agitated as it flew in, circling once around the spot where Kazunori sat before landing on his knee.

"Arthur?" Kazunori said, stroking the bird's back. "It's you," he smiled.

The raven puffed up its feathers and squawked loudly. A jolt ran through Kazunori's knee, making his head tilt back and his eyes turn up at the sky. A memory flashed into his mind - a signal traveling from the raven's claws through his leg and into his mind like a current of electricity. It seemed these offspring of Huginn and Muninn possessed the same ability to transfer memories.

Kazunori saw the masses of hornets, spiraling around the penthouse and the phoenix setting them all ablaze. He saw Pierre ripping out Chong's heart; then the memory flashed to Abby, cradled in Arthur's lap with the stinger wound pulsing at the side her neck.

Kazunori gasped out of his trance and the raven fell away, leaving a pile of diminishing feathers in his lap. He stood up, wobbling slightly on his feet, and peered out over the surrounding forest, then down to the foot of the mountain from where the bird had come.

"Abby," he mumbled, pulling on his robe while pacing back towards the temple. "They must on their way here."

Kazunori rushed over the bridge, as fast as his stubborn old legs would allow, and into the temple. Once inside the kitchen he flung open the pantry doors. A jar toppled out, he scrambled to catch it between his forearm and chest before it could hit the floor. He smacked the jar down on the kitchen table and turned to retrieve more glass containers, all filled with dried herbs and other concoctions. Kazunori paused, standing by the pantry door, now clasping a row of jars in his arms; the containers clinked together like grating teeth against his belly as he stood there catching his breath. He looked blankly around the kitchen for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts, trying to recall the recipe.

A short while later Jack and Arthur burst in through the door with Abby in their arms, her legs dangling at their feet as they shuffled into the sitting area. The tube in her neck kept wheezing urgently, like an out-of-tune whistle. Kazunori looked up at them; he was busy laying down a blanket by the fire pit. There was a strong smell of herbs in the room coming from a pot over the fire.

"She's conscious," Jack said, panting. "But she's got a high fever."

"Bring her to me," Kazunori said, motioning to the blanket.

He was using a stone herb grinder, mashing together a mixture of dry leaves and spices. Kazunori reached for the pot hanging over the fire pit, trying his best to move quickly without spilling and burning himself. He added a dash of hot water into the mix then continued grinding it into a pulpy paste.

"I warned you that things with Chong would end badly," Kazunori said, testing the consistency of the paste with his finger.

"You could have mentioned that he was a bearer," Jack said, easing Abby's head down onto a pillow. "When the fuck did that happen?"

"A long time ago," Kazunori said, getting to his feet. "Give me some room to work."

Kazunori applied the paste to Abby's neck. Her eyes darted wildly around the room at the touch of his hands. Arthur tried to soothe her, holding her head steady in his lap. Kazunori took a bowl of strange-smelling herbs and insect parts that had been simmering next to the fire and held it up to his lips, blowing over the mixture to cool it down. He poured the mix through a strainer to filter out the solid parts.

"Here, let her drink," Kazunori said, bringing the bowl to Abby's lips while Arthur held her chin up. "The mixture will keep her from going into anaphylactic shock. It will spike her adrenaline and reduce her body's allergic reaction."

Abby coughed but continued to drink, trying her best to get it down through a semi-restricted airway.

"You're gonna make it, sweetheart," Jack said, touching her shoulder.

"It's ok, Abby," Arthur said, wiping sweat from her forehead. "You're gonna be fine. Just stay calm, ok?"

Abby nodded briefly and squeezed Arthur's hand, still hyperventilating with high pitched whooshes of air through the narrow tube.

"She's going to make it, right?" Arthur whispered to Kazunori with pleading eyes.

"She should be fine in a few hours," Kazunori said, placing a damp towel over Abby's forehead. "Someone should watch over her through the night, just in case."

Jack was pacing back and forth in front of the fire pit. He glanced out through the temple doorway and saw Pierre and Mei entering the garden from the edge of the forest; Pierre was hunched over, carrying most of the luggage they had left at the penthouse: three backpacks and a small suitcase, all slung over his shoulders like a pack-camel. Mei had a sheathed sword tucked under her arm, and a small bowl that stuck out against her black kimono like a white pearl in the fading light.

Once inside Pierre handed over the box containing the blood vials to Kazunori for safe keeping.

Night cast the temple into darkness under a starless sky. Arthur stayed awake at Abby's side, watchfully tending to her. She drifted in and out of sleep, waking up occasionally for a drink of water from the pitcher that Arthur kept next to the sleeping mat. The swelling in her throat was down to where she could breathe reasonably comfortably. Kazunori had carefully removed the makeshift breathing straw from her chest, and disinfected it before he turned in for the night.

Upstairs Jack and Pierre were camped out on the balcony on the second floor of the temple. From there they had a full view of the garden. They slept in shifts, keeping watch incase Kurtis decided to launch an ambush during the night. Jack was sure Kurtis had tailed them from Chong's headquarters to the mountain pass. Kurtis was probably now aware of the temple's location. But they had no choice if they wanted to save Abby.

Downstairs Arthur was wrapped up in a blanket. He kept the fire going, feeding it from a woodpile neatly stacked in the corner of the room. Outside the night seemed unnaturally silent. Abby's forehead glistened with beads of sweat in the light from the fire. Arthur shifted next to her as she kicked off the blankets from her legs, stirring restlessly.

Arthur was fading in and out of sleep as the hours wore on. He sat staring into the fire with his chin dipping down onto his chest every so often, fighting hard to stay awake. Eventually the sandman came for him and he drifted off to sleep.