The End of Story #2 / Message from the Authors

Fictionman & RaynDragon

"I - but - it's your sword, sir!" Stott finally managed. "I don't know that I'm worthy of it."

"Your heart is," Syred answered. "The rest of you will catch up soon enough I'm sure. And it would be wasted here, collecting dust over the fireplace. I'm done now, Stott. You need it now more than I."

"Thank you, sir. I'll try to use it honorably." Stott looked down at it in awe, as if afraid to touch it.

"We should get moving," Agmar said, his thoughts still running ahead of himself. "There is much to do this day."

"Agmar." Avern reached out and shook Agmar's hand, giving it a firm squeeze. "Be safe," the mayor of Eagle's Harbor told him. Agmar simply nodded in response, a part of him wistfully dreaming of what it would be like it he could just settle down amongst the townsfolk and live out his days quietly battling nothing more than the occasional storm.

We were not meant for normal lives, a voice in his memories reminded him quietly. Such talent comes with a price - an obligation to mankind. Perhaps, one day, when you are as old as I, you will come to rest in this place and teach others. Until that day, However, you must follow the path that flows before you. Agmar breathed in the morning air as Avern turned and shook Yilmack and Stott's hands in turn. He brought himself back to the reality of the day again, Avern's voice breaking through his reverie.

"...and Lynna, please write. I doubt I'm the only one here who will want to know how your journies play out. Send letters to me."

"I will when I can, father. Please don't worry so much. It won't be easy but this is something I have to do. And I want to. I can make a difference."

I know," Avern replied. "You've said it already, it's just hard for me to let of my little girl, even though she's gone and grown up." He gave her another hug and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you, Lynna. Never forget that. You will always have a home here."

"I love you too, father. I won't forget." She turned and gave Mary a quick hug as well. "Take care of him for me, Mary."

"I'll make sure he doesn't get into too much trouble," Mary grinned. "You be careful out there."

"I will," Lynna nodded. She turned to face Agmar, and he saw the young woman take a deep breath.

"I'm ready now," she told him. Her voice was strong, but her eyes showed that he was not the only one of them trying to anticipate what lay ahead. He nodded at her approvingly.

"Farewell, Eagle's Harbor," he turned and said briefly. Agmar then turned and strode down the road, shifting his heavy pack so that the well-worn strap was in a more comfortable position on his shoulder. He didn't look back, although he was sure that Lynna and Stott both did. He felt them fall in behind himself and Yilmack, who had quickly matched Agmar's stride.

As the sun rose in the sky, illuminating what remained of Eagle's Harbor, the remaining townsfolk and sailors stood in the road leading away from their fishing village, waving at the four figures that made their way inland. Somewhere, deep inside Agmar's heart, he knew he'd never have another chance to return.

Avern hobbled forward on the crutch that had been presented to him earlier. Mary followed a little bit behind him.

"This is a delightful town you have here, Mister mayor," Agmar said with a smile . I'm going to miss it."

"After all that's happened?"

"In part because of it."

"You know you will always be welcome here, right?" The people behind Avern nodded in agreement. Agmar smiled at them all.

It was a sunny morning. A warm breeze brought the smell of the sea over the town. It seemed a pleasant day for travel. He hefted the pack on his shoulders, knowing it would not be very long day. He only intended on hiking far enough--a couple of miles should suffice, he thought.

Yilmack traveled lightly. He had a small pack that probably weighed no more than his sword. Stott had his pack and stood near Yilmack. It looked as though Stott had already said any necessary goodbyes.

"One thing, please," Syred said, walking up to them. "Stott, I was about your age when I left home. At the time I thought I was unappreciated. I don't want you walking off feeling the same way. You've saved a lot of people, and I think there's a lot more of that in your future. I want you to have this."

Syred unbuckled his sword belt and knelt, buckling it around a stunned Stott. "You'll teach him how to use it, Mister Yilmack?"

"Of course I will, Master Syred," Yilmack said with a kneeling bow. Stott stood, flabbergasted. Agmar put a hand on his shoulder. "I think you have a lot of learning ahead of you."

Chapter 36

He could tell these people had been through some hard times before, based on some of the preparations they had done before sleep had been possible. Bodies of animals that had decent enough meat had been taken to cool cellars for butchering. The houses that stood had been accounted for and those that no longer had owners became temporary homes for those who's houses had burned. Friends asked others to move in with them, and the inns were open to all who needed them.

After sleeping, some woke before others. They began the process of salting and smoking the meat, as well as cooking a huge breakfast mainly consistant of warm spiced bread, bacon, and sausages. As promised, a couple of pigs were spitted and began slowly turning over a low fire in the marketplace, cooking for hours. By the time it was ready to eat, the smell of it had reached every last person in town. The day had been a lot more work, as people sorted through the rubble of burned homes and other buildings, and bodies were somberly buried in the local cemetery. Before the feast was served, Avern had read the long list of those that had been lost, and a moment of silence was observed. Avern had followed it with a short speech of thanks that had included Agmar, and had managed to raise the spirits of the crowd again by the end of it.

I can only hope that others will be so hardy, he thought to himself. They had eaten heartily, and shared stories of the heroic moments of the ordeal. Music had started up after the meal and kegs of ale and wine were opened. They danced the night away, happy for what they did have, instead of mourning what they had lost. He had watched as people wandered home at varying levels of intoxication, smiling and laughing. Lynna's house still stood, and she returned home for one last night of sleep in her room.

This morning, they had risen early to get a head start on the day. At breakfast, they had been interrupted as a couple of sailors and one of the dockboys had brought over a locker of items for Stott to sort through from his father's boat. Stott had added a few items, mostly a heavy rain jacket and a few books, to his own duffel of belongings before telling them they could do what they needed with the rest. Stott now stood a few feet back from Lynna, talking and shaking hands with townsfolk that approached him to say goodbye. His duffel of belongings lay at his feet. Agmar had noticed that the boy was tidy when it came to packing, and it was obvious his books were his prized possesions. Each leatherbound volume had been carefully wrapped in a piece of clothing to protect it from being damaged. Everything else had been packed crisp and compact. He suspected that the boy's father had had a military background, possibly navy, for Stott to have picked up such a habit. He wondered idly what had happened to his mother.

Agmar was startled from his thoughts as Margaret approached him, looking somewhat awkward.

"Agmar," she began. She paused for a moment, as if composing what she wanted to say before continuing. He waited politely.

"I'm sorry I was so... difficult in the beginning," she said. "Thank you, Agmar. For everything. Thank you."

He went to reply, but found himself unexpectedly being kissed. When she pulled away, he noticed a few people staring at them. Her face was flushed, and she somewhat hastily backed off. He found himself unable to say anything more to her as Avern and Lynna were coming up to him with a crowd of people in tow. Margaret quicly moved back somewhere into the crowd of townsfolk.

They stood there awkwardly for a moment. Lynna fidgeted with her skirt. Stott found himself scuffing his shoes on the floor. There weren't other people in the hall just yet, as most people were still trying to figure out where they should be. Those with undamaged homes were going there. Stott wasn't sure where the rest would end up. Here and at Mary's, he supposed.

"Do you think we'll have nightmares?" she asked.

"Not tonight, I think. In a few nights, maybe, but I'm pretty sure I'm just gonna collapse."

"Yeah," she said with a giggle, "you're right." Her head started drooping as she stood there.

"Alright, get in there. I'll see you...later," he said, supposing he might end up sleeping through an entire day.

Lynna kissed him one more time before going into her room. People were staggering into the hallway then, looking not too unlike walking corpses again. he could see the expressions on their faces as a pack of them pressed past him, though. They were relieved and excited, and were rushing to their respective rooms.

He almost expected hooping and hollering, and while part of him knew that would be rude, he was also pretty sure that by this point half the people would sleep through the inn burning down around them.

The room was empty when he got there. Agmar was still busy, he supposed. He sat at the side of the bed and tried to take his shoes off. The laces were blurry in his vision, and his clumsy fingers couldn't manipulate the laces. He fell over onto the bed and blackness covered him before he could get a blanket in place.

Author's Note:

Sorry for the wait,
RaynDragon

He happened to glance outside the nearest window and saw Agmar standing on the porch, a mug in one hand and his eyes watching the sky. Stott finished his bowl of soup quickly and then made his way out. He found Lynna standing nearby, sitting on the porch against the wall of the inn with her eyes closed. He sat down as quietly as he could to not disturb them, wondering what they were doing.

He studied Lynna's face for a while, noticing that her expression was calm and relaxed. She'd had a chance to get cleaned up and was wearing a clean blouse and skirt instead of a dress this time. Her hands were laying loose in her lap. Her face still reflected her tiredness, mostly in the dark circles beneath her eyes, but she looked serene and peaceful somehow. The light that fell upon her face was golden red and he turned to see that the sun was setting. The hues of red and purple danced across a thin strip of blue stretching across the horizon. They seemed to push against the dark clouds, trying to send them further inland, beyond Eagle's Harbor.

"It's moved on," Lynna said suddenly, opening her eyes. She looked up at Agmar who turned around and gave her a strange look.

"Am I wrong?" she asked him, suddenly looking uncertain.

"No. But you felt it before I did," Agmar answered. The wizard's brow was furrowed.

"Is that bad?"

"I do not know. It may mean that you have a higher resistance to it now. Or, it may mean that it can reach you easier now. I expect it to be the former, however. It is more likely that you have attuned yourself to it. And, if you can feel it coming, you can better defend against it. Nonetheless, you shall want to be careful. I will need to teach you more about defense and control."

Lynna nodded, as if she was mulling over what he had said.

"I will go to Mary's and let them know. You tell them here," Agmar said, smiling. "It will be nice to deliver some good news for once." He moved to the steps and down onto the road.

"And then get some sleep," he turned to say. "You are going to need it. Both of you." Agmar turned and headed down the road towards Mary's inn.

"We can sleep now," Lynna told him excitedly. "It's finally safe again! Let's go tell the others." She jumped to her feet and Stott stood up next to her, although not quite as energetically as she managed to muster. He smiled and gestured for her to lead the way before watching her practically skip back into the inn.

She stepped into the dining hall and moved over to the slightly raised area where entertainers normally might play. People were sitting on the edge of it, still eating soup or talking and she stepped gingerly between them.

"Everyone, if I can have your attention?" she called out, sounding very much like her father. Once she had everyone's attention, she paused for a moment and surveyed the crowd as if about to give a speech.

"Nevermind the formalities right now," she finally said. "It's over! We can sleep now!" Her voice expressed her obvious joy at that, and was quickly picked up by the crowd. Suddenly the room was full of noise and movement as everyone seemed to stand up at once. There was cheering and hugging, and Stott found himself hugged by several people as they filtered out of the room to find places where they could lie down and get some sleep.

It all ended very quickly, bowls left sitting where people had been at their tables, and a couple of chairs knocked over in people's haste to get some rest. Stott found himself standing there, alone in the room with Lynna. Lynna grinned and grabbed Stott by the hand and they ran around the rest of the inn, letting the rest of the people who were there know the news. In the end, they found themselves standing outside of Lynna's room.

Then he did not know what to do. He went downstairs and did not see Lynna around anywhere. People were milling about. Tables had been brought back to the dining room, and the room was positively stuffed with people. He did not see Avern anywhere, or Mary, or even Margaret and Elsa.

There was hot soup being served, although it looked like it was pretty sparse servings so far. People were understanding and sharing around. He saw folk dipping stale bread in the soup to make it easier to eat. People were too hungry and obviously exhausted, yet he was impressed at how they were still treating each other civilly. People weren't yelling if there weren't enough bowls for their table yet.

He supposed it must be a tremendous task to prepare so much food all at once. He did not think he'd ever seen the room so stuffed, and he knew the kitchens had been through a lot, as well.

"Can I help?" he asked when he finally made his way there. At first glance the kitchen appeared almost normal. The charring on the ceiling was still apparent, and there were gouges in the walls in many places. Some of the pots were battered, but they were still useable.

The great cauldron kettle hung in the fire, and there were pots on the stove as well. There was an army of helpers cutting and chopping. Someone handed him a tray of bowls.

"Hand these out?" the Rachel Gannen asked him. He had seen her husband in a pile of bodies at some point. He supposed the inn was probably hers now. He nodded and took the tray.

It was quite a few trips before he felt like he'd finally earned the single bowl that Rachel handed him eventually. "Eat," she ordered with a sad smile. He ate leaning against the wall in the dining room, watching people comforting and supporting each other. It frightened him that he was going to see some of these same events played out in other towns as they ran along the evil's predestined path. It also convinced him further that he needed to contribute to defeating it. Conviction made weak soup taste better.

The towel felt rough against his skin as he tried to dry himself off quickly to get warm. The coarse wool of his socks and pants itched against his skin, but at least the soft flannel of his shirt was warm and comforting. He pulled the drain on the tub and put his shoes back on while the water emptied. Afterwards, he refilled the same amount of water into the tub as he had found, with pails of water from the pump. Then rolled up his sleeves and washed out his clothes in one of the large basins off to one side of the room. After he was done getting them as clean as the soap could manage, he wrung them out and took them back to Agmar's room. As he walked down the hall, he hoped Agmar wouldn't mind if he hung his wet clothes over something to dry.

It didn't occur to him to knock on the door of the room before entering, as he didn't expect anyone to be in there. He was startled to find Agmar in the room, rummaging through the large duffel bag the wizard had brought with him. Agmar had a clean pair of pants on but was otherwise undressed, his feet bare against the wooden floorboards. Stott found himself drawn to the large scar that ran across the man's back, stretching from his right shoulderblade down to his left hip. It looked as if it had healed long ago, but had been a deep cut that had spread apart some before being stitched back together again. There were smaller scars running across it, likely from the stitches themselves.

Agmar didn't turn around, although Stott did see him straighten up some at his entry into the room.

"Stott," Agmar said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude - " Stott began, feeling foolish as he stood there. His bundle of wet clothes were dripping on his shoes and the floor.

"Not at all, it is your room as well right now. I have put a line up by the fireplace so that our clothes will dry quicker once the fire has been lit. You could hang yours on the right and I shall put mine on the left once I have washed them?" Agmar gestured and Stott saw a thin line of rope hanging across the room, secured to a candle sconce on one wall and a nail where a picture had been hanging on another.

"Yes, sir." He headed over and started carefully arranging his clothes over the line. How does a man who can heal himself end up with a scar like that? Stott had a feeling that the more he learned about Agmar, the more questions he might end up with. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Agmar buttoning up a fresh shirt and putting fresh socks on. He saw the man sigh as he sat down to put his shoes back on.

"You do not have to call me 'sir', Stott," he said quietly. "You are not my student, although I may teach you things along the way if you are so inclined, and Yilmack will likely have much to teach you. I may be your elder, but let us start out on equal footing as friends instead if we are to journey together. You may not realize it, but it is just as likely I will learn things from you along the way as well. I have acquired a few titles in my travels, as well as the enemies to match them. But I will never wield a title over someone I would call my friend. There are some who would defer to me regardless, but in the end someone can only hold authority over you if you allow them to."

"I..." Stott tried to wrap his tired mind around what Agmar had just said. "Okay," he finally answered. On impulse, he stuck out his hand.

"Friends, then," he told Agmar. He saw Agmar smile as the wizard took Stott's hand and squeezed it firmly. For just a moment he saw Agmar in a different light. He's just as human as the rest of us, but with more responsibility on his shoulders, he thought to himself as he turned back to hanging his clothes. Agmar gathered up the pile of dirty clothes he had on the floor and headed off down the hallway with them. And he's alone. He thought about that as he finished and tidied up the rest of his belongings. Even amongst friends, he's still alone.

He proceeded to closest of the three unclaimed tubs. It was partly full of cold water. It would be a bit less then knee deep, but he decided he was not about to just sit in it. The fire for heating up a great big kettle had not been relit yet.

Well, the cold'll wake me up, he decided, pulling off his clothes. He looked woefully at the clothes, which were going to need mending in addition to washing. He had only packed a few changes of clothes before relocating to Agmar's room. The realization came back to him that the only possessions he had left were in one large bag. All his books were gone. He slumped down, putting his forehead down on the edge of the tub.

Somebody else came in and claimed a tub. Stott finished undressing and put his first foot in the water slowly. The foot was still too pink. He had forgotten about that. Again he could not figure out how long ago that had been. Then he was glad he did not have a tub of steaming water.

The third bather slipped and fell into the water with a splash, and promptly yelped. "Sweet gods that's cold!" A woman's laugh came from the first tub, and Stott could hear water being poured and running down some part of her. He felt like he was intruding, and tried to focus on getting himself clean.

He was sore all over, and the cold water did nothing to help that as he rubbed at himself and poured water over himself for rinsing. Standing there wet was perhaps not a great improvement over just sitting in it, he considered. He was shivering by the time he finished.