Viper's Creed (The Cat's Eye Chronicles) (35 page)

Although she couldn't quite make out what was being said, she could hear Burn's deep baritone rumbling like thunder and Jacques' tenor trumpeting back at him. Two of the voices were female; so she assumed that Joan and Laina were there too, along with Tristan and a few others.

Yawning, Sora climbed peevishly to her feet and made her way into the hall without bothering to put on her boots. Hearing the rain pounding against the deck, she followed the sound to the staircase, and climbed straight out into the bad weather.

Immediately she was hit with a blast of cold wind.
Whoa!
Tiny bits of ice were mixed in with the rain, clattering against the deck before melting into the wood. She momentarily considered crawling back to her cabin, but curiosity pushed her further out into the pounding hail. She shivered as her feet touched the slick, icy deck.

The room above hers seemed much further away than it should be; between the ship tossing back and forth and the cascading rain, Sora found herself bouncing between wall and rail, trying to maintain her balance. She could see light spilling from a porthole ahead of her. The rolling motion of the ship almost knocked her over, until finally she was able to reach the cabin's door and turn the handle. She dragged open the heavy old door, then stepped into the room.

There was an immediate silence.

Sora stared at the bright lanterns that were swinging crazily overhead. It appeared to be the Captain's cabin, with desks and chairs scattered about, nailed to the floor to counter the movement of the ship. The walls were plain wood, except the one on her left, where several maps had been nailed up.

The cabin's population turned to stare back at her.

Burn's mouth hung open in mid-sentence. Jacques looked flushed and tense. There was Laina, the girl's eyes as wide as saucers, and Joan, who smirked in amusement, her leg wrapped in a tight bandage from heel to thigh. Tristan, André and several other Dracians stood at the back of the room, observing the argument. The group watched silently as she shut the door. The only sound was the hail hitting the window.

Sora had the distinct impression that she wasn't supposed to be there. "What's wrong?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing's wrong," Jacques said quickly. "We were just deciding the best course to take."

"Oh," she said, oddly numb. She frowned. "And what course is that?"

"Well, with the storm this bad...."

"How could you not tell her?" Laina suddenly broke in.

Tristan nudged the girl hard with his shoulder, a strained smile on his face. Then he turned to look at Burn. The giant Wolfy stared at Tristan, then at Sora, but he didn't say anything.

"Where is Crash?" she asked abruptly.

"Resting, I should think...." started Jacques.

"Don't trouble yourself, dear," Joan said.

"I shouldn't think he's that bad, eh, Burn?" Tristan added to the confusion.

"North by northeast,” Jacques continued, pointing to the wall behind him, where the largest map was pinned. “Away from the eye of the storm.”

"Yes, but can we outrun the weather?” Joan called.

"
Where is Crash?
" Sora asked again, slower and a bit more loudly. The turmoil of voices came to a halt. The Dracians looked at each other in embarrassment; finally Burn stood up. He motioned to the chair he had been occupying.

"Would you like to sit down?" he offered.

Sora didn't remember agreeing, but suddenly she found herself seated, maneuvered to the chair by the firm roll of the ship. She glared up at Burn, wondering what he was keeping from her.

"Tell me," she growled.

"Sora...." He scratched his ear in an agitated manner.

“Just say it.”

His eyes turned away. He let out a long, slow sigh. "We couldn't find an antidote.”

Sora waited. It took a long moment for his words to sink in. “Then...?”

“He's alive... but the wound is worsening,” Burn ended reluctantly. Sora realized he was trying to protect her from the truth about Crash, but it was still annoying. How was she supposed to help if she didn't know the problem? She pulled in a tight breath, her mind racing for a solution.
Worsening by the minute...
and there were few of the right supplies on board for her to use.

“Aye,” Joan added. “He isn't a Dracian like me. The poison is deadly to humans. We need to draw it out... but none of us are Healers.”

"His cut is deep and needs to be stitched,” Burn added quietly. He watched Sora, waiting for a response.

The room was enveloped in an awkward, suffocating silence. Sora put her head in her hand, trying to think clearly.
I should have brought some Healing remedies....
Her mother had taught her a few small things, but without the right supplies, her knowledge was useless. She should have prepared for this. The sailors had unloaded most of their cargo from the ship, and probably the antidote with it, if there had ever been one.
Maybe there are still a few things left on board.
Mint was easy enough to find, and sweetgrass and redroot. She could at least treat the infection....

This is all because I'm weak,
she thought suddenly, guilt roiling in her stomach. If she had handled the Kraken like she was supposed to... not given in to her fear....

Finally, she blinked her eyes and took a deep breath. “I know a few things about Healing,” she said.

There was a brief pause. “What?” Burn asked.

“Well, I'm not a sworn Healer per se, but my mother taught me some things. Let me see him. I've drawn poison out before....” But never a Kraken's poison. She had only worked on a few snake bites and a scorpion sting, once. “And I can stitch him up."

Burn stared at her for a long minute. Then a slow smile spread across his face. “My,” he said quietly. “And to think, a year ago you couldn't shine a shoe. Learning a Healer's trade.... Dorian would be proud.”

Sora blushed, then grinned slightly. “You know what he would say?”

Burn's eyes glinted. “What?”

“
She shows potential!”

The Wolfy laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder, his ears twitching. It was a good moment. Sora could remember those words on Dorian's lips; he had said them often, when she had first learned to use her staff. She laughed as much as she could at the memory, then shook her head and glanced around the room. By the looks she and Burn were getting, the Dracians thought they were crazy.

“There's no time to waste,” she said quickly. “Take me to him!”

“Right,” Burn said. He held out his hand and helped her to her feet, balancing her against the rocking motion of the ship. “Jacques, carry on, find that course for us and don't forget the map Crash gave you. We'll be back....”

Jacques nodded solemnly. As Sora got up, she looked around. Her eyes landed on Laina. “We'll need your help,” she said. “Can you fetch me several bowls, hot water, a needle and thread?”

The young girl nodded. Joan stood up as well, balancing on a wooden crutch. “I'll go with you,” she said, nodding to Laina. “No use getting lost on this big ship.”

Sora smiled gratefully, then addressed Tristan. “I don't know if there is an infirmary on board, but I'm assuming so. Bring me every herb, weed or pill you can find. And I'll need towels.”

Tristan nodded as well. He, Laina and Joan headed out the door, stumbling as the ship rocked from side to side.

Sora and Burn followed the three others out into the night. Burn waved to her over his shoulder. “His cabin is this way!” he called above the crashing ocean. The hail had stopped, but now fog was gathering beyond the railing, and the rain had turned to a stubborn drizzle. Swaying with each wave, Sora followed Burn closely, using his bulk as a shelter against the storm. She couldn't see anything in the pitch blackness, but obviously Burn could since he led her confidently around the side of the ship and down yet another set of stairs.

He stopped about four cabins down the hallway, swung open the door and hustled her inside. The swaying ship slammed the door shut behind them. Sora blinked. A dim lamp barely illuminated the room. The space, small and cramped like a walk-in closet, was mostly taken up by a wide, fluffy bed. The ceiling was so low, Burn had to bend almost double to walk around the room. Even Sora was close to hitting her head on the ceiling.

A figure rested quietly in the large bed.

Feeling suddenly nauseous, Sora moved over to the bedside and looked down. Tentatively, she pulled back the covers to look at Crash's face. Although she couldn't see clearly in the dim light, he appeared pale and drawn.

"Burn, get the lights on," she hissed quietly, and paused as he lit two or three more lanterns, hanging them from the ceiling. She looked at Crash's face again, and her former observations were confirmed. His skin was unnaturally white, beaded with pearls of sweat, and his eyes were clamped shut. Gently, she placed her hand on his clammy forehead; heat radiated from his skin.

The moment Sora's palm touched his forehead, the assassin seemed to relax. The stiff lines on his face eased. His mouth moved as if he was saying something, and she leaned forward, wondering if he was conscious after all....

The door opened and closed. Laina rushed in, a wide reel of pink thread in her hand, along with a small box that looked like a sewing kit. Tristan was right on their heels with a large basket of herbs and dried plants. Sora spotted several dark bottles mixed in with the herbs, and a pile of towels stuffed under his shirt, apparently to keep them dry. Joan couldn't fit in the room, so she waved briefly through the doorway, placing a jug of water just inside the door. Then she hobbled out of sight down the long, dark walkway.

Laina and Tristan stood there, panting and wet, and stared at her. Nobody moved.

Finally Sora motioned to a small, empty table in the corner of the room. "Set your things there, then you all need to leave... even you, Burn." She met the Wolfy's eyes apologetically. "I need as much space as possible, and this is a small room." She motioned again to the desk, then shook her head when Laina tried to speak. "Put your things down and get out. All of you."

There was a scrambling of feet as the items were set down; then the group filtered awkwardly out, casting glances in Crash's direction. Sora was surprised that they all seemed worried; she hadn't thought Laina or Tristan were overly fond of the assassin. Finally, Burn nodded to her and shut the door.

Sora took a moment to regain her nerve, then pulled back the blankets to inspect her patient. She found, with a start of surprise, that her assassin friend was already shirtless. She watched as his chest rose and fell in small, abnormal bursts. She could hear his wheezing breath, hinting at an infection. The poison was acting quickly. Sora tried to think back on the books she had read at her mother's house, the things she had learned about treating poison. She would have to draw as much poison out as possible. With a bit of help from the herbs Tristan had brought, hopefully Crash's immune system would take care of the rest.

Her eyes landed on the deep gash near his diaphragm. It looked like the beast had snagged him with its teeth. She winced. The slash was covered in dried blood, but she could still see the dark purple flesh beneath it. A sure sign of poison. The wound had been washed, she could tell, but it needed to be sewed shut, as it was still oozing fresh blood.

She quickly inspected the rest of Crash's body, looking for any other damage. His legs and head were fine, and she rolled him slightly to one side, quickly glancing over his back, trying to ignore his tight, powerful muscles. All seemed in order, though she noted a myriad of scars covering his body, nicks and dents, white streaks and rough patches. Some older scars were overlaid with newer ones, a chaotic history of his life. She would have to ask him about some of them when he woke up.... She ran her finger over the longest one, which started at his jaw and went all the way down his chest, past the cut muscles of his abdomen. This one, Volcrian had caused.

Then she inspected his arms, over the faded tattoo of a green snake. Her eyes landed on his right side, and widened with surprise. There were several bloody holes up the side of his forearm, as though he had been pierced by a very thin knife, or a thick needle. Strange. The wounds were also tinged with black.
Poison?
She felt the skin: hot, swollen and red. It looked like a fairly fresh wound, barely scabbed over.
But how... where....?

There was no time to linger on it. Who knew where the assassin got all of his cuts and bruises? Perhaps he had stepped on a garden rake and gashed his arm. A poisoned garden rake? She grinned at the thought.

Sora grabbed a towel, wet it with hot water, then turned back to clean the wound. She started at his torso. At first the blood was stubborn and hard, but after a minute or so, it softened and came off easily, exposing the deep gash beneath. She continued to clean it, wiping away pus and dead skin. She pinched and prodded the wound a bit, waiting to see if Crash would react, but he stayed unconscious throughout the entire process.
Good, because this is about to get nasty.
Sora finally pulled out a knife from her belt and wiped it clean. She stared at the gash, noting all of the blackened flesh. It would be difficult to suck the poison out... but she had to cut away all of the infected area. Otherwise, the poison would continue to spread.