Chapter 12

He felt as if all he could do was struggle for breath as he dangled dangerously at the end of an invisible taut cord that threatened to break at any moment. From the end of that cord he watched through a haze as people took him away from the boat, and the bodies of his father and brother. He saw them tend to his wounds, wash him, change his clothes, and even feed him. But he couldn't feel. He was afraid to call out to them to. Afraid they would know what he had done.

But it wasn't just me. I gave up, but something else took over.

Whatever that something else was, put a chill in his heart like he had never known. He recoiled as far away as he could go, but still the images seemed to come, over and over his mind replayed the scene. He killed Etrick again and again in his thoughts. Each time the scene played the same.

Then, suddenly, he wasn't alone. Someone else followed the line to reach him, as some strange man had done twice before, but this one wasn't in the room as it was done. This one came all the way to him. The touch felt both feminine and familiar somehow.

You shouldn't be here... he tried to say, but he couldn't speak. He had no way of communicating with her. He felt something else, behind her, and tried to scream. The darkness was following, pushing her into his prison. He felt her feeling as he watched the scene play again, Etrick's blood flowing on her hands as his. He felt her screaming.

In one last fleeting moment, before he considered letting go of the cord entirely, he saw the way back. She slipped away on a thin gray trail that ran beside his own lifeline, and he threw himself at it with a final hope that there was still a chance to live and save his soul from the damnation he was sure to be destined for.

One moment he was an observer, the next he fell off the bed and painfully onto the floor, biting his lip as he slammed into the wood. He lay there a moment, shaking as he tasted the blood in his mouth. Then he tried to get to his feet, only to cry out at the sharp pain in his hip. The other leg was no better, as he saw the ankle was swollen and bruised.

Slowly, he took stock of his injuries. He could hear voices nearby to the room he was in, but they were beyond the door. As he tested his shoulder and tenderly touched bruises that seemed to cover a good majority of the front of his body and face, he wondered where exactly he was. Everything was hazy, and he tried to recall the faces of the different people he'd seen nearby recently.

So much of it was a haze. Ms Gretch had been there, hadn't she? And had he seen Mayor Mordan's face at one point?

He had seen a stranger, though. He thought he remembered some strong bald man. He would help. Maybe he could save them. He gingerly tried to get up.

Then he remembered the ship. Did it burn? He had to find someone, tell them about the ship. If any wreckage survived he had to warn them. It was all cursed. But it wasn't the ship, was it? It was something the ship passed through. Something we passed through.

He slumped on the floor, giving up trying to stand as the weight of what had happened--what he had done--came back to him. I killed Etrick. Some part of him knew he had not been in control at the time. But it was no excuse, and no comfort. He killed Father.

He also realized that he was alone now. It had always been the three of them. Ever since Gull's Roost. They had settled here to start anew. That new start was over, now. He did not know what to do, who to go to.

Etrick had been the friendly one. Father had known people. Stott was the one of them that could read, and he had spent much of his time doing so. It occurred to him that he could not think of a single person in town that he called by their first name.

He remembered that he had heard noises not far away. Somewhere outside this little room. An inn somewhere, maybe? He slowly stood up. It took some time and more than a couple tries. There were so few parts of him that worked the way they ought. In small, patient, determined steps he made his way to the door.

He leaned against the doorframe for a moment once he’d reached it, feeling the coolness of the wood against his forehead. The voices were still just murmurs, as if more than just the door stood between them and Stott. He turned the handle and pulled the door open, gritting his teeth against the effort. It felt as if every movement hurt. He borrowed some strength from the door and wall as he made his way towards the voices.

The hall wasn’t familiar to Stott, but one of the women standing in it was. Though he’d only seen her in passing, as his father’s opinion of her was rather poor, Stott recognized Lady Mary right away. He was surprised to see her looking disheveled, with bandages wrapped around her forearms and blood on her sleeves and some of her dress.

I’m too late...Am I in Lady Mary’s inn?...What’s happened here?...Do they know it’s coming? Thoughts seemed to tumble over one another in his mind. He didn’t know what was coming, but he knew with some certainty that something was coming. He’d felt it on the ship, in the fire, and it seemed to follow him from there. What if I’m now cursed, and I’ve brought it here? That thought brought him up short, horrified at the prospect. He froze, against the wall, unsure of what to do.

Mary was standing with her back mostly to Stott, as she looked into one of the other rooms. An argument seemed to be happening inside, and she watched silently by the doorway. Stott waited for a moment, listening in on the conversation within the room.

“You said you would protect her!” He thought he recognized the mayor’s voice, although he’d never heard the man so angry before. He thought he heard Mrs. Gretch’s voice in the background, trying to calm him down.

“She is not hurt, she is merely unconscious. She will recover.” Stott knew the third voice as that of the stranger he’d seen earlier. He’d heard that voice very clearly through his haze somehow, making it easier for him to pinpoint now.

“Don’t try to tell me she wasn’t in danger, Agmar! You know she was, or you wouldn’t have destroyed the door like that!” Stott looked, and realized that there was only part of the door on the hinges in the doorway. Splinters of wood littered the floor in the hallway around Mary’s shoes, and it looked as if larger pieces of wood were scattered on the floor further into the room.

“I am not suggesting she was not in any danger. I am merely saying she will recover from what happened?”

“Just what the hell did happen? Why was she screaming? What did you do to her?!” The mayor seemed on the verge of hysteria, and it occurred to Stott suddenly that the familiar feminine touch he’d felt before waking from his haze must have been connected to Lynna, the mayor’s daughter.

How could she reach me like that without even being in the room with me? he wondered to himself.

“Margaret,” the stranger said suddenly, “the young man is awake. Stott.”

Stott’s jaw dropped open, wondering how the man could know that when he couldn’t see him from inside the room. Mary turned, looking surprised, and quickly came over to his side, offering up an arm for support.

“It’s good to see you awake, young man, but you shouldn’t be out of bed!” she said, as he took her arm gratefully.

"No, you shouldn’t," Mrs. Gretch agreed, coming out of the bedroom.

He tried to reply, but his throat was raw and dry and he ended up coughing and doubled over as pain coursed through his beaten body.

“Agmar, if Lynna’s alright then maybe you can help Stott. The boy’s in a lot of pain!” Mrs. Gretch called back behind her.

Mrs. Gretch and Lady Mary both helped him stand and then supported him while waiting on the stranger Agmar. It was easier to breathe standing up more, but it took them each a couple tries to find a part of him they could hold without hurting him. As for him, he could no longer tell where pain started and stopped. It felt like every part of him hurt. Etrick always handled pain better than me.

"Actually," he heard the stranger say, "Lynna is going to help."

"But--" Mayor Mordan stammered.

"Come, Lynna, I will show you." The stranger again.

Agmar stepped out into the hallway and Stott recognized him immediately. The mayor's daughter followed, looking dazed, and her father followed right behind.

"Agmar, I said no," Mordan insisted in his mayor's voice. Stott had only heard him use that voice once before, but everyone in the town knew it at least a little. Everyone understood when Mayor Mordan meant business, and he was the mayor, after all. Agmar stopped and turned.

"That's enough, Avern," he said with an ominous seriousness. Mordan's face slackened a little and he actually took a step back submissively. Who is this stranger?

Agmar walked up to Stott and put a hand gently on his shoulder. Just like that all the pain was gone. Stott looked at the man in awe and wonder. A wizard. He was at the same time afraid of the man and yet he trusted him completely.

"Come, young man. You are rather hurt, are you not? I can fix that."

Agmar led him back to his room, and he was aware of Lynna following them. She followed them into the room and closed the door behind them.

"Agmar--" the mayor said from the hallway but stopped abruptly. The room was quiet. Agmar guided him to the bed.

"Lie down," the man suggested. He did, relieved that he was able to do so without pain. Once he was lying down the pain started gradually returning.

"You will need to feel the pain during the healing, but do not worry, it will not last long." It did not come back all at once, and it was tolerable as long as he did not move.

Agmar looked at Lynna a moment and she sat at the foot of the bed. She tenderly put a hand on his leg just above the ankle. Her touch was soft and soothing. She's kinda pretty. I never noticed that before.

"Take one wound at a time. Like you did with Mary's arm, start at the surface, then slowly work inward as you've seen me do today." Stott saw Lynna nod, as she stared intently at his swollen ankle. He realized that it was feeling warmer than the rest of his body, as well as tingling oddly. He watched as the swelling slowly seemed to go down as the ankle grew warmer in temperature.

Once the ankle was down to the normal size again, Lynna lifted her hand and took a deep breath. Stott realized suddenly that he'd been holding his own, and he let it out, feeling the warmness in his ankle already starting to diminish. He tested it gingerly, to find that it was probably the only part of his body that now didn't hurt. He stared at Lynna, startled at the realization of what she'd just done. She shifted position, moving forward on the bed so that she could reach the side of his leg near his wrenched hip, but she seemed to be trying not to meet his eyes.

He lay on the bed, quietly thinking and watching Lynna, as she moved from injury to injury. Sometimes Agmar would say something to her, suggesting the order she should approach them in, or something she should do differently that she already was. Sometimes, what Agmar said seemed almost like something Stott could understand, as he was talking about them in somewhat visual terms. It seemed to him that Lynna and Agmar could literally see inside Stott's body, and he slowly felt his injuries healing. In a couple of instances, Agmar reached forward and put his hand over where Lynna had hers, and Stott felt a sharper, more direct heat course down into the area, as if he was adding to make what Lynna was doing more effective.

She looks tired, he thought, looking at Lynna's face. And afraid. Is that because of me, or because of what's coming? How much did she see? She was in my mind, and she was...screaming. He saw her eyes flicker to look at him for the briefest of moments, and he realized that she was looking in his mind as he had thought it. You saw what happened. You've every right to be afraid of me after that, he thought deliberately at her.

"It's not like that!" She moved her hand away from him to her face, and burst into tears.

"Lynna?" Agmar looked at her, worriedly, as he put his hand on Stott's chest. After a moment, Stott felt several areas on his body suddenly flare up with and intense warmth, and he inhaled sharply, startled by it. Agmar stood, staring intently at absolutely nothing, it seemed, until Stott was about ready to cry out in alarm at the heat some parts of his body were feeling, when Agmar took his hand away. Stott tried to slow the pounding of his heart as he felt the heat begin to diminish right away, almost as quickly as it had begun. He saw Agmar put his hand on Lynna's arm.

"I have finished the healing. Perhaps the two of you should talk for a moment while I try to settle things down with your father, Lynna?" Lynna shrugged in response, and Agmar gave Stott a seemingly cryptic look before letting himself out of the room, leaving them alone.

Once the last of the heat seemed to have gone away, Stott tensed the muscles of his body in a slow pattern, checking himself over thoroughly, to find that he hardly ached anywhere anymore. His head still throbbed slightly at the back of the neck, but the rest of his body felt like he'd had no more than a long workout and run like Etrick sometimes made him do.

Used to make me do, he thought soberly. He moved his attention to Lynna, instead, sitting up on the bed so he could be at the same level as she. He reached out and touched one of her hands, and she jumped.

"Lynna, look, I don't know what you're thinking right now, so you're gonna have to tell me, okay? You saw stuff in my mind, and it wasn't pretty, but I know it was you that showed me the way back here from the edge of wherever I was. I just wish you hadn't of had to see all that in order to do it." He sat there awkwardly, fidgeting with the edge of the bedsheet and not knowing what to say.

"I can do magic stuff," she mumbled, taking her hands away from her face. He saw tears rolling freely down her cheeks, and she still wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Yeah, I kinda noticed that." She's afraid of what I think of her?! The thought seemed incredulous to him after everything he'd seen recently. Her eyes finally met his, and he found himself mildly amused that he didn't have to repeat what he'd just thought.

"You know how people are, Stott. This isn't the best town to do magicks in. People are gonna find out, and I don't know what's going to happen then."

"But how is that your fault?" he complained. He didn't see how it could be. Magic was something you were born with, right? It's not like she's killed anyone.

"What happened to you wasn't your fault, Stott."

"But you saw...you were there, I mean, kind of." Was she still reading his mind somehow? He didn't think she was still there the way she had been before, but she did seem to know what he was thinking.

"It's something I've been able to do for a while, actually. Usually it's just what people are thinking...more loudly, if that makes any sense." She lowered her eyes a little, looking down towards his chest, he guessed.

"We saw the logbook, Stott. Agmar is a real wizard, and he's read other books about what's going on. It's an old evil, and it's coming here. Some of it is already starting. Animals are acting up, all the pregnancies are in danger, and it's just going to get worse," she said. She was fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. Stott found that amusing, but not enough to lift the mood she was setting. She stopped when he noticed it.

"Stott, tomorrow night everyone who falls asleep will become a tool of the evil. Just like what happened with Etrick. He was unconscious, so it was able to control him. And then you got mad enough and scared enough that it was able to take some of the control away from you. It...pushed you, basically. But I can do some magicks. If I don't learn enough control from Agmar, it will be able to do things through me."

"Lynna," he asked, "why are you telling me this? We've seen each other around town, but you don't usually talk to me, or I'm usually busy somewhere. How come now you're telling me all this?"

"You've always got your nose in a book, and it's not like you've gone out of your way to talk to me either," she declared, sounding somewhat defensive.

"Whoa, I..." he put his hands up to stop her from saying more. "That's not what this is about." Besides, you're the mayor's daughter. He realized as soon as he'd thought it that she'd likely caught that as well, by the look of concern on her face.

"What's that supposed to mean? Most everybody likes my father!"

"Um... yes, that's very true. But most everybody also knows he's very protective of you. If he knew about your magic all along, then now I can understand why." He tried to give her an apologetic smile. "Look, I was really just wondering why you were telling me all about your magic. You've never needed to explain yourself to me before today, is what I was trying to say."

"You were wondering what has happened here so far, and what we knew, so I just thought I'd fill you in." She started fidgeting with the hem of her skirt again, still not looking at him.

"And you're scared," he said. It didn't take any magic to read the look on her face. "You're afraid of what the town will think when they find out about your magic, and you're afraid of this thing that's coming. Even more so now that you've seen it in my mind." He sighed at the last part, realizing he didn't have anything reassuring to say to her. There was an awkward moment before she spoke again.

"It wasn't your fault. What happened, I mean. It's weighing on you and making your head and heart hurt and I can't fix it, no matter what magicks Agmar shows me. There's going to be more. Worse things are going to happen here. I can feel it coming now. I felt it trap me into your mind with you..." she trailed off, her tears starting anew. "I'm sorry."

"You showed me the way out of that trap, and just now you were healing my physical wounds. You've got nothing to be sorry for." He took a deep breath to help pull himself together before he continued. "How do we stop this thing?"

He had hoped she'd stop crying, as he didn't know exactly what to do about it, but her tears seemed to get worse at his question.

"We can't! The best we can do is listen to Agmar, while he tries to help us ride it out. He came here to try and get us prepared for the worst of it, but half the town seems against him..."

Stott nodded, thoughtful for a moment.

"Well maybe they'll listen a little better once they've heard my story then," he finally said. "It's likely to come out eventually anyway, I might as well tell it straight off." He wasn't happy with the idea of telling it in front of the entire town, but he had a feeling that it might help. It seemed the best he could do for the moment, so he resigned himself to it. He just hoped he wouldn't find himself in the stockades or worse for the duration of the darkest times.

"They'll have to see it wasn't your fault. I was able to see that it wasn't." She looked up at him finally, her eyes and nose starting to get red from crying.

"You had the advantage of being able to see it from my perspective though. All they'll have is my word to go on. And, admittedly, I'm not the most social person in town. Etrick and Pa are - were - " he winced momentarily as he corrected himself, "far more likely to be on a first name basis with any given person in town."

"What are all those books you're always reading? I mean, I've read a few books here and there, but I swear you've had one in front of you more than half the times I've seen you." She sniffed her nose, and he found himself looking around for a handkerchief or something to offer, and came up emptyhanded.

"Um...most of them..." he suddenly felt embarrassed, not knowing how to answer. "Most are stories of adventures and other places. A couple of the regular ship captains like to read as well, and I trade books I've bought from the caravan merhants and read already for different ones they've already finished. A few have been descriptions of far away places, but most tell tales of knights and kings and such. Some wizards too, actually." He tried to smile at her again, hoping he looked encouraging.

"Not that reading any of that helps anything, I guess," he finished. He sighed, and disappointment started filling up the places that had been filled with pain and fear.

There had always been two reasons for doing as much reading as he did. One was the more public reason. It was the reason he gave from time to time when someone would comment on how he spent his time.

Eagle's Harbor was a small town, and small towns were boring. Each day was the same as the next. Each day one got up early, worked hard, and then had a little time to rest and relax before waking up and doing it all over again. On a good day there might be some scandal or gossip to make the day worth remembering. But there was no adventure here. There was adventure in his books. If he could not live them out here, he could at least live them out in his mind.

The second reason was the one he had never admitted to anyone. Deep down, he always suspected he was a coward. He was not strong like his brother. His father was strong of heart and character. Stott admired them; they were better folk than he. To him the stories of adventure and tales of great heroes were also manuals. Perhaps if he read enough of them, and learned what being a hero was about, then perhaps he could be one if the opportunity ever were to arise.

But that opportunity had come. He had failed. He had failed them both. Nowhere was it written that heroes succumbed to evil forces and killed their brothers. He had. He wasn't strong enough to resist. He hadn't been able to stop Etrick, and so he had failed his father.

"What's wrong?" Lynna asked, scooting closer to him on the bed. He noticed that she had stopped fidgeting with her skirt. He had obviously distracted her from her own problems. She's the one that gets to be a hero... Suddenly he understood his place, his role.

"You're going to have a lot going on in the next few days, aren't you?" he asked.

"Pretty much. Agmar will be teaching me how to protect myself, and then I think he's going to keep me as busy as possible. Idle hands and all. I think he figures if he can keep me doing stuff then it'll be harder for the evil to affect me. He hasn't said it, and I can't read him, but there are ways other than magic to figure out what people are thinking. --Why?" she asked abruptly.

"Well," he said tentatively, "the way I see it, the more people have that they need to get done the more they'll need people helping them. Your father can call on just about anybody to help him. Agmar can have you do some things for him. But who do you have, Lynna. You're going to need someone to help you with stuff, and--well--I'm gonna need stuff to do. So how can I help you, Lynna?"

"Me?" Lynna looked so startled, he put a hand out to steady her from falling off the bed.

"Well, yeah. Why not? It sounds like you're going to be needing a little help as things get worse. My hands might be kind of idle too, otherwise."

"Are you sure you're up to all this?" She seemed skeptical.

"I think it would be far better than for me to sit around dwelling over what's happened already while potentially worse things happen all around me," he said bluntly. "I'd be better off dealing with all of that later, when things have calmed down, or else I'll just be a mess while all of this is going on. I need to keep preoccupied, and you could use the help. It works out for both of us in the end."

"I ought to ask Agmar if it's okay," she said, looking at her hands nervously.

"Why wouldn't it be?" He found himself suddenly worrying that Agmar might get upset with her.

"I'm sure it will be fine, I just don't want to make anything more complicated," she said quickly. "He's been having a hard enough time with having to explain himself to everyone else and all, that I'm trying not to be too difficult. Especially since he's trying to help save my life and all."

"I thought the evil thing wanted to control you, not kill you?"

"I think it's worse than even Agmar knows or at least has told me. After what I saw that you went through, and what I felt trying to keep me from coming back while seeing it..." He noticed she was visibly shaking at the memory. "I don't think I want to know everything that's coming, Stott. Or else I might just sit here too afraid to even move. If it can't control me, it sees me as a threat. It's like pure rage, and if it can't use me then I think it wants me dead."

She's more than just scared, she's terrified. He found himself remembering the moment when he thought the fire was burning too fast, like it had a will and desire to kill him, and he'd been cornered. He'd been sure he was about to die. Pa saved me, but then I couldn't save Pa. Is Agmar going to be strong enough to save Lynna? Worry washed over him, as he watched her deliberately breathing slowly to try and calm herself. He saw something in her that he wished he could find in himself. It's too late for me. But she's got a chance.

"You're stronger than I am, Lynna. You're gonna get through this. I just know it." He found himself wanting to give her a reassuring hug, but wasn't sure if it was really the right thing to do just then, so he didn't. "You just tell Agmar that he can have me run errands and stuff so that you have more time to learn magicks to protect yourself. And if you need me to do anything else, just let me know." He tried to say it as a matter of fact, instead of as a suggestion, and she seemed to take it the way he had intended.

She nodded, wiping her eyes and cheeks with her hands, and he made a mental note to start having a handkerchief handy in case it was needed again. She stood up and smoothed her skirts out again.

"I should probably talk to Agmar then. I also need to let my father know that I'm alright. He worries."

Stott nodded, and stood up to join her. He marvelled at the fact that his wounds were gone and standing up was so much simpler than it had been only minutes before. They headed to the door, and he moved forward quickly so that he could open it for Lynna, as a gentleman might.

She looked caught off guard by it. She went through after a moment's hesitation. By now the hallway was empty, and Lynna's room was clearly dark and empty. The door was still missing, although the debris had been removed. All the other doors were closed, and the hallway was dark. Only a window at one end let in the light of the nearly full moon.

"So where is everyone, do you think?" he asked. He tried to think over how he was supposed to act, but he was not sure. Should he be leading her to Agmar, escorting her, or should he just follow?

"He is downstairs with my father," Lynna said matter-of-factly. Maybe she can feel where he is...

She took the lead and he followed her down the stairs. Her soft shoes only made a little noise on the stairs, which creaked under his weight. It was not until the stairs that he realized he was not wearing his shoes. He wondered what would be said when someone eventually noticed. He chose not to bother Lynna by suggesting they go back for them.

They found Agmar and Mayor Morden in a side room. Lynna led them directly there, obviously knowing exactly where to go. Agmar had already turned to face the door when they entered, and the mayor noticed them and turned, as well.

"You both look better," Agmar suggested.

"We have been discussing your training," Morden said to Lynna, "as well as...what to do about it."

"When people find out about it, you mean?"

"Yes."

"How do you feel, Stott?" Agmar asked. Stott felt a little intimidated by his gaze, and it was not helped by the mayor turning to look at him so directly as well.

"I'm alright," he managed. "Lynna here has taken care of the hurts, sir, and I think I'm alright enough to make myself useful. I need to make myself useful, I think. I've already offered my services to Lynna, you see."

He suddenly felt rather informal for the declaration. He was very aware of his stockinged feet, and felt as if he should be holding his cap in his hands. He wondered where it was, and then noticed that he was fidgeting with the untucked hem of his shirt. He started tucking it in, embarrassed and feeling sloppy.

"I see," the mayor said, flatly.

"I told you," Agmar told Mayor Morden, to which they both nodded sagely.

"You just make sure you keep your word, Agmar. I'll speak to you again in the morning. Lynna, I'd like a word with you privately before I head home?" The mayor looked at his daughter, and Lynna nodded. "Goodnight, Stott."

"G'night, sir," Stott mumbled. The mayor moved towards the door to the hallway, and she fell into step behind him giving Agmar a look that suggested they might be conversing mentally. Agmar gave her a nod and a small smile before she left the room, and Stott suddenly found himself standing alone in a room with the wizard. He scuffed his feet against the wood floor nervously, wishing again that he'd thought to put his shoes on. He could feel Agmar looking him once over.

"So..." the wizard said, "You plan to assist young Lynna."

It didn't seem like a question, but more of a statement. Stott didn't know if he was expected to respond or keep quiet, so he just bobbed his head in agreement, trying not to look as nervous as he felt.

"Well, you will do her no good if you step on a rusty nail at the wrong moment, so you had probably better go fetch those shoes you seem so concerned about. And, while you are doing that, you might as well gather whatever items you will need to spend a few nights away from home so that you can stay here at the inn where she will be. Although rooms will be a bit scarce beginning tomorrow, so I expect you had better bunk in my room, since it would hardly be proper to put you in with Lynna."

Agmar watched him with a level gaze while he spoke, and Stott couldn't stop himself when his eyes widened upon hearing the last part. Agmar leaned forward, as if he were about to tell Stott a secret of some kind.

"Do not worry boy, I do not cast spells in my sleep," he said very quietly, as a smile spread slowly across his face and an look of amusement grew apparent in his eyes. Stott found himself smiling despite himself.

"Of course not sir," he replied. "And yes, sir, I should get some things. I'll be quick about it."

"Though I appreciate your politeness, young man, you may call me Agmar if you like."

"Yes, s--er--Agmar."

"Would you like someone to accompany you to get your things?"

"I don't want to be any trouble, s-- I'll be fine on my own." He stumbled through the words realizing just how little he actually talked with people other than his father and brother. Everyone else was either a sir or a ma'am to him except for the folk his age that he'd been in school with. And most of them he rarely talked to at all. It had felt awkward talking to Lynna, and was now even stranger to be talking to Agmar.

"Very well." Agmar nodded his head to him, and Stott nearly flew out of the room, mumbling some words about hurrying. He ran back to the room he'd been in before, and found his shoes where someone had neatly placed them under the foot of the bed. He stuffed his feet into them and tied the laces quickly before heading out of the inn and down the road towards the small house that he and his brother had lived in with their father for as long as he could remember.

It didn't take him very long to get there, as the streets were nearly empty. He dodged the few people he saw on the road, hoping nobody would want to ask him questions just yet. As he approached the house itself, he felt a knot growing in his stomach as he realized why it was that Agmar had suggested he might want someone with him. The windows were completely dark and shuttered, to protect the house against any storms that might arise while it's owners were away at sea. It seemed as if it loomed up in front of him, and the moonlight made the shadows it cast deep and dark.

It was not a big house. It only had four rooms total, with a loft above them all. He found himself standing at the door for what seemed like several minutes. He had to remind himself that it was still his house. It's my house now...

He unlocked the door and stepped inside. The main room of the house took up the majority of it, and with the windows closed and shuttered up it was very dark and unwelcoming. He left the door open to let the moonlight in while he grabbed a candle from the little table near the door.

The moon hung unnaturally low and bright in the sky, but its light seemed more reluctant to enter the house than he was. Eventually he got the candle and got it lit. Its feeble light was enough to navigate the house by. Much of it he could maneuver his way through in darkness, but he wanted what little light he could have.

The room took the center and one corner of the house. Along the back wall were the two bedrooms: Father's and the one he had shared with his brother. The kitchen took up the wall to his left. A wind started up outside. Enough of it came in the open door to make the candle flicker. He shielded it, suddenly afraid, and he pushed the door shut with his foot. It latched with a hollow click.

Anxious to get finished and out, he moved to his bedroom. He took in the shared wardrobe and dresser and the two beds and had to remind himself again that he really did live here. He could not shake feeling like a burglar. There was another candle on the dresser, and he lit it with the one he carried. More light helped. He set the candle down.

He scratched his head. He did not know what to pack. Whatever I need to spend a few nights away from home? The only times he was away from home any length of time was when they went out fishing. Then they would be gone three or four or five days and come back. But Father had always handled the planning for those. He had just needed enough clothes. He shrugged and started with that.

He wondered idly, as he threw some clothes into a large duffel from under his bed, where the boat had ended up. He'd already had things packed and with them for boat travel, although that was generally a different type of clothing than he'd need here in town. He remembered the log book briefly, and threw his light rain parka into the bag, along with some warmer sweaters. He hovered over his small cache of books for a moment and chose two of his favorites, wrapping them in a light blanket before stashing them into the very middle of the bag for safekeeping. He also tossed a few other odds and ends that he thought he might need, including his razor and a spare pair of shoes.

He did everything quickly, trying to stay focused on the task at hand rather than the surroundings. He found himself looking over his shoulder now and again, feeling as if he were being watched. He was drawing the cord tight on the duffel when his heart leapt up to stick in his throat as a loud banging noise echoed through the empty house. He stood for a moment, frozen in fear, before he could force himself to let go of the duffel and grab up the candle. The second time the banging came, he realized that someone was at the front door.

It's just a person knocking on the door, Stott. Get ahold of you wits you big coward! he told himself harshly. Leaving the duffel for the moment, he made himself walk to the door at an even pace and peer out the window nearest to it, to see who was there. Mr. Lenchet, from next door, saw him in the window and waved at him, and Stott found himself letting out a sigh of relief. He moved to the door and opened it, shielding the candle from going out as he did.

"Heya, Stott! The wife saw light movin' in the winda over here an' sent me over ta make sure that it weren't one of them cargo crew up ta no good, seein' as how you were laid up an' all." Stott waved him in, and Mr. Lenchet stepped inside so Stott could close the door.

"Ya don't look so wounded, do ya?" Stott stood there uncomfortably for a moment, not knowing exactly what to say, before Mr. Lenchet continued. "I'm guessin' that wizard healed ya then, eh?"

"I - I was healed. Yes." Stott hoped that that would be enough, as he wasn't about to start telling anyone about Lynna's secret until it was already out in the open. "I appreciate the concern, Mr. Lenchet. I was just picking up some things for the next few nights. I'm supposed to stay up at the Surf and Sleep for now."

"Aye, I reckon Margaret would want ta keep an eye on ya after that wizard done his magic an' all. Make sure he didn't do any curses or what-not."

"I doubt that Agmar would bother to put a curse on me right now, sir. He's far too busy. He's trying to help, from what I can tell."

"Riiiight. Well, that's good there, Stott. You just keep yer positive outlook. I'm right sorry ta hear that we lost yer brother an' Porter out there lad. Right sorry. You keep yer head up. An' if ye need anything, just let me or the wife know, okay?"

"I appreciate it, Mr. Lenchet. I really do, thank you." Stott nodded and shook the man's hand before Mr. Lenchet headed back out the door. He sighed quietly, in relief, as he closed the door behind him. Then he swore, as the candle blew out.

He knew he should have sheltered the candle from the open door. It took him a moment to get it relit. He shook his head, frustrated and disappointed with himself. If you mess up the little things, what good are you gonna be to anyone else?

He made one final pass through the house, looking for anything that struck him as something he might need. In the end he gathered up his duffel without having added anything more to it. He blew out the candle and locked the door behind him. He gave the house a final look, wondering if it were the last time he would see it. He wanted to trust that everything would be fine, but he could not shake the feeling that he had closed it with an eerie finality.

The streets were dim and empty. Outside lamps had mostly been extinguished. A strange wind had picked up, and here and there swirling eddies blew about loose bits of straw. The town already looked battened down for a storm. He had to wonder if it was enough.

Eagle's Harbor seemed like a ghost town to him as he prowled the streets. Windows were shuttered up tight, so it was difficult to tell who might still be awake. He supposed it might be getting close to midnight already. Somewhere a sign creaked as it swayed back and forth in the night. The night air reminded him of winter, with windows shuttered up against that, but there was no snow on rooftops and no icicles hanging.

He walked uphill towards the Surf and Sleep, and the town only grew darker. From the front of the inn he turned and looked down at what he could see of the town. A brooding darkness obscured the stars at the horizon, and he could tell it was a line of wicked clouds coming towards them. It looked unlike any approaching storm he had ever seen.

The town itself looked deceptively serene, save for the greater than normal darkness. Smoke wafted from chimneys, but it was odd not seeing light in windows, not seeing lamps hanging over doorways. The town was still, as if holding its breath. Realizing it, Stott let out his own.