Roland and Finn worked together to hold down the seizing man.
She glanced at her husband's serious expression, a feeling of dread spreading inside her belly. She hadn't mentioned the wound on his back when she'd emerged from the pantry, seeing that he was already treating someone and likely in need of help.
But now it had become exceedingly clear that this man had been poisoned, and Finn had to assume that her husband's wound was infected with the same thing. She had to lay across the stranger's legs to keep him from spasming hard enough to kick himself off the table.
His mouth was spewing an ominous foam, and Finn turned away from the horrible sight of his eyes rolled back in his head. It was not a mental image she wanted to keep. Roland held the man by the shoulders, pressing him down.
Just as suddenly as the seizure began, it stopped. The man went completely limp.
Roland checked the guard's eyes, then pressed an ear to his chest for several tense seconds. Finn watched as her husband's shoulders slumped in defeat. A heavy sigh was all that marked the moment of the man's passing.
"What was his name?" She asked quietly.
"I don't know." There was an ache in his voice. She wanted to comfort him, remembering the first patient he'd ever lost: a little girl on the side of the road.
She wanted to linger, to comfort him, and let him know it wasn't his fault, but the memory of Roland's back propelled her to action.
"Undress," She commanded. "If your wound is poisoned like his, you need treatment immediately."
She'd already turned back to the stove to work on the tea. She'd been preparing it for the injured man as well, but if she were honest with herself, she only had managed to gather one portion of the herbs.
Roland would have fought taking it himself as long as the other man lived and had a chance. As sad as she was about his passing, it did absolve them both of a difficult decision.
As she turned, counting the times she stirred the tea, she glanced at her husband. He was alarmingly pale.
She quickly averted her eyes so that she wouldn't become distracted by her concern. The tea was delicate and finicky; she couldn't afford to mess up the recipe.
She set it down to cool for just a moment, taking the opportunity to examine the wound.
"Describe it, please." Roland said seriously. He had shed his shirt as she'd requested and turned so that she could see it better in the lamplight. She bit back a gasp and strained to keep her voice steady.
"It's not a deep cut. About the length of my hand from heel to fingertips, diagonally, between your shoulder blades. It is bleeding, but not very heavily." She paused, and he spoke.
"What color?" The words were strained, and she wondered how much pain he was in.
"It's red, mostly. A little green around the edges." She grimaced. "Here, the tea is ready now."
With the confirmation that the wound was indeed poisoned, and the fact that the poison was deadly, Roland put up no argument. He downed the hot tea in great gulps.
Finn watched him somberly as he finished the cup and set it down. Her eyes focused on the wound. When she'd given the tea to her father, though he was on the very doorstep of death, he'd healed before her eyes, almost instantly.
Roland flinched. The edges of the slash pulled toward one another, trying to meet. It was oddly mesmerizing. The cut began to bubble, expelling the poison. A green ooze was pushed from it, dripping down Roland's back.
Finn grabbed an old towel she used as a dish rag to wipe away the substance before it could touch anything else.
Her eyebrows drew together in concern. The wound continued to push out the green ooze until red blood gushed after it. She switched to a clean rag to staunch the flow, setting the stained green rag aside.
She was tempted to open the stove and throw it directly into the fire, but she wasn't sure if the smoke would also be poisonous, and she also wasn't sure if there were anything to discover about a future cure to the toxin by examining the ooze at a later time.
Though the blood looked clean, Finn's worry increased.
"It's… not healing," She said at last. Roland had been tensing by degrees the longer she remained silent. "It bubbled and oozed green, and now it looks red, and clean, but the wound hasn't closed."
He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder.
"It looks clean?"
She nodded. "The blood is red. I'm worried it hasn't closed. The tea should have healed it. Maybe I made it wrong?"
She frowned. She'd carefully counted the stirs, measured the water's temperature, and done everything correctly. She was sure of it.
"We both know how unlikely that is," He said. "The alternative would be that the poison is powerful enough to make the tea struggle, and that is… concerning."
He swallowed, and she went about bandaging the wound so that it could, hopefully, heal naturally. She whispered a request to Gwen that, if it wasn't too much trouble, making sure Roland stayed safe and well would be very helpful.
Her husband overheard, and one corner of his mouth twitched into a smile.
"Your magic didn't work the way you wanted so you're passing along responsibility to Gwen?" He asked.
"Asking for help never hurt." She said, and changed the topic. "Out there.. How bad is it?"
"This was the only man who seemed seriously injured, although, now, I wonder…" He went to the rag and carefully examined it without touching it, then compared it to the green ooze that had come from the man on the table. "I should go check on the guards and make sure they are not suffering from this same poison."
"And if they are?" Finn asked tensely.
"I suppose we'll have to deal with it. It must be this way across the city wherever the goblins surface." There was a grim tone to his voice that made her shudder.
"But you killed all the ones here?" She tried to take on a hopeful tone.
"Most. The rest ran towards the city center."
"Roland," She said suddenly. "Where did they take the box? From the tunnels?"
He stared at her, "I'm not sure. I suppose they would have taken it somewhere safe, like the vault in the City Hall."
"The direction the goblins headed?" She let the question hang in the air for a moment while he absorbed it.
"You don't think they have some method of detecting those things?" Roland seemed skeptical.
"I'm not sure. Perhaps they're heading towards the correct direction because it's the most likely place we would keep important things. I AM sure that we need to prevent the goblins from getting them. Or the gargoyles. They need to be destroyed." She said firmly.
"You said that before, but are you absolutely sure?" He was reluctant, and understandably so. If those items were indeed portal makers, or could be made into them, there's no telling what wonders they could bring into the world.
Or what horrors.
It had started out as a passing feeling, but grew stronger every time she thought of the Void ripping into multiple worlds. She closed her eyes tightly.
"Gwen, please. I think this is the best course of action, but I'm so torn. I have no idea what these things really are, if I'm right about them, or if they really should be destroyed. It's a feeling. I need help, guidance. Please."
"I can guide you only very little, and you will not like that." Gwen spoke from the corner of the room.
"Tell me! Anything, I'll be so grateful, I promise." Finn nearly fell to her knees. "People are dying. Help us. Is Roland going to be all right? Should the items in the tunnels be destroyed?"
"The poison is purged from his system," Finn accepted Gwen's not-quite-an-answer gratefully. "I can tell you that you are mostly correct about what you found within the tunnels."
"Mostly correct?" Roland queried. "I suppose you aren't going to tell us what we are wrong about."
"I cannot, for I do not know for certain what will happen if you destroy the objects as you intend." Gwen maintained a stoic expression.
Finn took a deep breath. If even the Fae did not know what would happen, how could it be the best course of action? Then again, letting the Void get hold of what it had been wanting for so long surely would be worse than the unknown?
"Exactly the problem," Gwen answered Finn's thoughts. "The protection over the city holds, at least in part, because of the presence of those items. The Void wants them, for purposes you have guessed already. However, the items are special, having been formed at the breaking of the worlds. They are very powerful portals, and would allow the Void to be present in each world without the need for followers. The lure of that power draws the Void."
"Special and powerful?" Finn put a hand to her cheek. "And you don't know what would happen if they were destroyed?"
"No. Such things are sacred to the Fae. To destroy them would mean sacrifice."
"Would you take them from us, if we asked you?" Finn suddenly asked. If the Fae could take the portal-makers and lure the Void away, that would keep the city safe, and draw attention away from Klain.
"No. They belong to humanity, to be kept, destroyed, or used as your race determines." Gwen replied. "It is the Sorcerer's Will."