Chapter 26

He had seen the woman and her red-glossed eyes. The woman must have been how the baby ended up there, which meant that the evil had a reasonable degree of control over her. He wondered just how much control it had been exercising over him, or if it had just fueled the blind and panicked rage. Or maybe it had controlled his arm more directly. He didn't know.

Yet when the woman had hit Lynna on the side of her head with that poker Lynna had been dazed for just a moment. She must have been close enough to unconscious for that moment for the evil to jump in. As soon as Lynna had turned on him the woman had stopped attacking.

It had not been long after that that the woman had started screaming. Stott could see now that the evil must have let go of her to take Lynna. The woman had screamed at what she had done. But does that mean the evil can only control one at a time like that?

Now Lynna was moving through the city. Her movements were irregular enough that Stott was not having any luck guessing where she was going. She moved like an animal. The movements were not quite like human walking. Her shoulders were slumped forward, and her entire upper body swayed back and forth as she walked. Stott could not come up with a reason for it, unless the evil was just more familiar with how animals moved than people.

There was little wind around him, although he could hear it howling in other directions. Some wind spilled around, pushing leaves. The air was heavy and he guessed it would probably rain soon. At least maybe that would reduce the risk of further fires, he hoped.

He wished he had been able to stop Lynna from killing the woman. He winced with every step, at the long gash she had made when she attacked him with the poker. He knew it was deep, and he had pulled back to wad some cloth over it and strap it tight with his belt. He'd been unable to walk on it until he had done it. He had not been fast enough to save the woman when the evil had turned Lynna and struck her down. He only hoped he could keep Lynna from having to watch herself kill anyone else.

She turned suddenly, heading into one of the abandoned houses. Stott followed, trying to keep close enough without alerting the evil that he was still nearby. He waited a moment before heading through the door after her, trying to keep his footsteps quiet on the creaky wooden floorboards. He had lost sight of her in the process, and his heart raced as he tried to sweep quickly through each room, searching for her. As he made his way down a short hallway towards the kitchen, something swung out from the staircase as he came up to it, smashing against his face and causing terrible pain to sear through him as a piece wedged into his face and part of one of his eyes. He fell to the floor, clutching his face and screaming as he pulled a piece of ceramic away and put one hand tightly over the wound. She started kicking him in the side next, until his knees came out from under him and he lay prone on the floor.

He could hear her making a growling noise, low in her throat. He tried to get back to his knees, and she slammed her foot down on the wound in his leg. He lay on the floor, howling in pain, as she grabbed him by the hair. With physical strength he knew she normally wouldn't have, she pulled him down the hallway into the kitchen by a fistful of hair.

He tried to see with his good eye, using his free hand to wipe blood away once she had let go of him. She walked to the stove and opened it. He could see the glow of still-hot embers inside, and cried out a warning as she thrust her hand inside to grab a fistful of them. She flung them at him, and he flung his arm up to protect himself, trying to roll out of the way as he did. He got to his knees again, and looked up to see her again. With a twisted smile, she stood next to the window, a handful of embers held under the curtains, setting them on fire. He could smell the flesh on her hand burning under the heat of them, as she moved to light the next curtain.

She lit the second curtain and the fire spread impossibly fast. She dropped the coals on the floor and leapt through the window, smashing through glass and shutters. Just like that she was gone. The flames moved to block the window.

It was like being on the ship again. It remembers me...it's trying to finish what it started before! The flames were spreading across the ceiling and crossing the floor to reach him. He tried to back away from them, but every movement of his head filled it with blinding pain from his eye, and his one free hand was slippery with blood. He tried to get to his feet, but slipped halfway there and crashed to the floor again.

He pushed with his slippery hand and his one good leg, trying to reach the doorway out of the kitchen. The flames got there first and blocked it off. If he could get to his feet he could try leaping through it, but he knew trying to crawl through it was hopeless.

He backed towards the other door, not knowing where it led. He had lost his bearings in the house and could not tell if maybe it was an outside wall. There was no window in the door, which did not bode well, but he had no other direction to go. The flames were slower now, but they followed him relentlessly. The air was getting smoky, and he gave up on trying to stand. The smoke was not as bad near the floor.

He got to the door. Only that quarter or so of the room was not filled with flame. The heat was getting unbearable and he was getting dizzy. He got the door partly open before it slammed back shut. It had been open long enough for him to see that it was only a pantry.

He was trapped. He leaned back against the door and closed his eye. He wanted to scream out, but he knew there would be no one around to hear him. This time the evil was going to finish him. The flames were advancing even more slowly now, drawing it out. It's going to kill me slow, burning me alive to hear me scream... Gods, this can't be happening! The flames got close enough that he could see his pants starting to smolder before he screamed like he had never screamed before.

This time the smell of flesh burning was his own as the flames crept slowly up his legs. He beat at them frantically with his hands, and a part of him watched in horror as the flames seemed to grab onto his sleeves and encircle his wrists.

No! This can't be happening! It isn't real! Oh gods! I'm going to die! I'm burning! I'm burning! His mind gave up trying to keep sense of it all, and screamed along with his voice. His good eye caught sight of Lynna just outside the window, watching him burn.

"Lynna!" he screamed. He couldn't believe she would do this to him. He had been so sure she was still in there to stop the evil. He had been so sure she wouldn't let the evil do this to him.

His clothes were all on fire now. He felt it starting to burn his hair. He flailed wildly, and got to his feet, desperate to get away. The pain in his leg was no longer an issue. His whole body screamed in pain, as his skin seemed to boil under the heat. He ran forward and threw himself through the window at the one who had done this to him, and started to beat at her with his flaming fists, until she was burning too.

Suddenly he found himself thrown back and slamming to the ground as water hit him from above, putting out the flames that encompassed his body. He lay on his back, struggling to just breathe. He'd never felt this much pain before, and was afraid to move. The rising and falling of his chest hurt enough as it was, he didn't dare add more pain by moving. Somewhere he heard Lynna's voice calling his name in choking sobs. He realized that she'd been calling to him for some time. Oh gods! How long? When did it let her go? He saw figures looming over him, blurred by the blood and water in his uninjured eye. His mind pieced together the previous few moments in more clarity. It let go of her as soon as I started hitting her! I hit Lynna?! Is she alright? How could I have done that? But how could she let it do this to me? Additional pain racked through his body as sobs overcame him. He realized that his body was shaking violently, not just from his weeping. He also realized that he had never stopped screaming. His voice was hoarse and cracking as it rose over the sounds of the house crackling in the fire.

And then he felt a coolness wash over him, and the pain went away. He felt the warmth of magical healing course through him at an intense rate. It must be Agmar he thought to himself. It feels more confident, this healing. More controlled. I never realized there'd be a difference.

Stott did not know how long he sat on the street shaking. Somewhere along the line shaking turned to shivering. Someone put a jacket around him. His clothes were past tattered. Too much of him was exposed pink skin. It was too pink. He tried not to think about how much of him had been burned. If he let his mind wander back into the house he'd be lost again. Lynna won't be able to bring me back this time.

He looked up, wondering where Lynna was. Agmar was sitting back from healing her. She sat on the ground, her clothes less fire damaged than his, and stared blankly. Gods, what if she's lost in there like I was, seeing the same scene over and over?

Avern was over there, calling Lynna's name over and over. She can't hear you, Avern... Agmar picked up one of her hands, and her arm hung like a rope.

"What happened?" someone asked him. It was Syred's level voice. Stott couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with anyone, so he kept staring at his pink foot. Had it burned off his shoe? The image ran through his mind of how badly he must have been burnt and his body shook with a shudder. It's probably some small miracle that I'm even alive.

"What happened?" Syred asked again.

"The evil had her," Stott said when he finally managed to speak. "I thought maybe she'd be able to fight it. But she couldn't. None of us can. None of us can." He kept repeating the last sentence as his voice lost volume. He didn't know why, so he just shook his head helplessly and said it again.

"Stott," Syred said, waving his hand in front of Stott's face, "look at me, Stott."

Stott blinked and looked blearily up at the Captain, a part of him wishing wearily that everyone would just leave him alone. Syred sat down on the ground in front of him.

"I know you've been through a lot recently, Stott, but you need to hold it together for a little while yet. You've been very brave to stand up for and protect Lynna the way you have. Especially after what happened on the boat. I know you're strong enough to get through this too."

"How do you know that? You don't know me! None of you do! None of you ever even saw me until recently! I'm not strong! My father was strong and my brother was strong and look where it got them! I've never been the strong one!"

"You're much stronger than you think. It's not a physical strength I'm talking about, Stott. It's in here." Syred tapped Stott's chest with his finger. "Your father and brother would be very proud of how you've acted recently."

Tears flooded his eyes and sobs shook his body more than it was shaking already. To Stott's surprise, the Captain put his arms around him. He clung to the man, sobbing until the tears stopped coming. He felt weak and nauseas and tired. He pulled away from Syred feeling a little steadier though, and he could tell that he was shivering less.

"Thanks, Captain Syred." He mumbled it some, feeling a little foolish.

"We can fight this thing if we do it together, Stott. I believe that," the man replied quietly. "It isn't easy. In fact this is probably one of the most difficult times I've ever faced in my life. But we can make it. I know we can."

"I'm not so sure right now," Stott said, looking over at Lynna. "It used her to try and kill me. She was watching me burn to death."

"You know in your heart that she will have fought it as hard as she could, Stott."

"And she couldn't fight it off, Captain. She couldn't break free. She let it all happen. I think right now she might be stuck, like I was, replaying it all in her mind over and over again."

"She didn't let anything happen, Stott. She was used. Like you were. Right now she may not even realize that you're alive. That the evil didn't win, we did." Syred touched Stott's arm and Stott looked at the man. "Don't blame her for this. You've both been through something awful. Be stronger for it. You know she didn't want this to happen. I've seen the two of you together lately."

Stott nodded, looking back at Lynna. She was breathing fast and shaking. To his suprise, Agmar had put his head in his hands as he sat before her. He wondered if the wizard was weeping. He suddenly wanted to be near Lynna, fearing the worst. He struggled to get to his feet, and Syred put an arm out to steady him and help him walk over.

"Agmar? How's Lynna?" A chill ran down his back as he asked it. He sat down next to the wizard, facing Lynna's blank and distant face. Agmar looked up, sighing heavily.

"The evil has released her, but she has trapped herself in her own mind. She is very afraid. She tried to fight it off, but she doesn't have the training for something like that. Her pain wasn't just physical. It seared her mind as well. I can't heal that magically. Only time can heal something like that."

"What does that mean?" Stott asked. "It seared her mind?"

"She cannot use magic right now, for one. It is physically painful for her to even touch it. And the magical energy around us all is getting thicker, so to speak, so it is touching her instead. She has withdrawn further into herself instinctively. She also thinks you are dead, Stott. She will not hear me tell her otherwise. She blames herself."

"There is something we can try," Agmar said, "but here is not the place. We should go back to the inn. Both of you could use some washing and fresh clothes." He stood up looking stiff and sore. He was right about the clothes, Stott admitted to himself. He was barely dressed anymore and Lynna's dress was charred beyond mending. He had to look away.

"Syred, would you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"I will take them back to the Surf and Sleep. Avern is at the schoolhouse. Please confirm with him that all the displaced people have been taken care of. Let him know that we have found Lynna and that she will be alright. But do him a favor and simply mention that she has been shaken by being controlled, but she will recover from it. There are some details a father does not want to hear from a distance. I would like to speak with him in person, so please tell him that I have some questions for him, which I do."

"I understand," Syred said with a thoughtful nod. "If he asks what happened I will add that Stott was burned and has been healed."

Stott looked back over to Lynna, who was still staring off blankly. There was a line of drool down her chin. He scooted closer and dabbed it up with the sleeve of the jacket he had been given. She didn't notice in the least.

Syred took Steve and Jeff and left. The stranger with the beard and big sword picked up Lynna gently. She flopped like a rag doll. He cradled her some in strong arms, her limbs dangling lifelessly. At least he didn't just put her over his shoulder like a rolled tapestry.

Stott got to his feet, noticing the tenderness in his overly-pink feet. He was grateful that the jacket was long enough to keep him decent. He recognized it as Syred's. Wasn't Mary wearing it earlier? It occurred to him that she must have only recently returned it, which would explain the slight dampness in some areas and the lingering smell of soap.

"Your skin is healed, Stott," Agmar told him as they walked, "but it is new skin, freshly formed and still somewhat delicate. You may find some areas itch a little and tingle, and you will need to be more careful than normal as the skin can be damaged more easily."

"How close was it really?" Stott asked, nodding. A part of his mind was already shutting out the memory of the pain from before. It was hazy, as if part of another person's memory, but still fresh enough to make him shiver while recalling it.

"Too close," Agmar answered, frowning. The wizard lapsed into silence for a moment, his brow furrowed unhappily.

"Aye. I was sure you were one cook'd bird, but the wizard here fixed you good," the large man said, with a big smile. "I'm Yilmack, if yer wonder'n"

"I'm Stott." He gave the man a nod and a half-smile. His eyes kept fixing themselves back on Lynna's blank face. Every now and then a part of it would twitch as if she was having a bad dream. Her eyes were open, but they never moved except to blink, focused on some unknown spot that Stott suspected wasn't even in the range of what he could see.

The rest of the walk to the Surf and Sleep was made in silence, with only the intermittant howling of the wind as it whipped between the houses and trees, flinging dust and debris as it went. The glow of enclosed candles marked the inn as they approched it, and Stott could see a group of people milling about on the porch. A few of them moved down to meet them as the four arrived.

"Agmar! Thank the gods!" several voices spoke at once.

"What has happened?" Agmar asked, his voice sounding somewhat resigned.

"Bentz was here," one of the ship captains spoke up. Stott recognized him as the owner and captain of one of the cargo vessels docked in the harbor. "He was hurt, wounded, nobody noticed his eyes until it was too late. Margaret went to help him, and he attacked her with a metal bar. She's pretty bad off. Elsa's wounded too, as are a couple of others who tried to grab him. He got away. Margaret's the worst, I don't think she'll make it without healing. My medical officer has been helping out here and he says she's got quite a few broken bones and some internal injuries that he isn't equipped to deal with."

Agmar hadn't broken stride as the man spoke, and by the time he finished relaying the story, they had arrived in the dining hall of the Surf and Sleep, where mattresses had been brought back in for the wounded. Margaret lay on one of them, and he could tell she was doing everything she could just to stay awake. A long purple bruise ran across her face, and there were bandages on her arms and neck, the rest of her covered by blankets. Elsa lay on the mattress next to hers, her arm in a sling. She was curled up in a ball, crying. Stott saw a few others with bruises and bandages nearby, but they were seated on the mattresses and didn't look too badly hurt.

"Bentz did manage to kill a couple of the serving girls while getting inside the inn," the cargo ship captain finished. "He dragged them out of sight. There was nothing we could do by the time we found them."

"Stott, you remember where my room is, yes?" Agmar asked, turning to him and Yilmack. Stott nodded in reply. "Good. Show Yilmack where it is. Yilmack, put her up on my bed for now, then come back down. Stott, stay with her please. I'll be up as soon as I can."

Stott nodded again and Agmar turned and knelt down next to Margaret first. Stott saw tears flowing freely from the corner of the woman's eyes, and he turned away. Margaret had always seemed like the toughest woman in town to him, and he couldn't bear the thought of her like that. He headed quickly up the stairs, Yilmack's heavy steps following him to Agmar's room, where the man set her gently down atop the clean, tidy bed linens. She made a sharp contrast to the soft colors of the top blanket in the tattered remains of her burned and soot-coated dress.

"Be well," Yilmack said somberly. The man gave Stott a pat on the shoulder before leaving the room and closing the door quietly shut behind him. Stott looked around the room and located his bag of belongings, pulling out fresh clothes and his spare pair of shoes. It occurred to him that they were the last pair he owned, and not very broken in. For a moment he worried about washing and changing clothes in front of Lynna, but he realized she wasn't seeing anything around her anyway. He still kept his back to her as he did, and worked quickly. The cloth in the basin felt rough against his skin, and he knew he didn't get as clean as he might have normally done as a result. He was already looking forward to having a bath when this was all over.

Once he was dressed, he turned his attention back to Lynna, who hadn't moved. She lay staring at the ceiling, more drool running down the side of her face and mingling with her hair on the pillow. She was breathing fast, and her face still twitched from time to time. He sat on the bed next to her, and pulled one of the spare blankets to cover her, knowing he wasn't the one who'd be washing and changing her clothes.

Who changed mine, I wonder? he thought briefly as he took a fresh cloth and washed her face. Was it Margaret? Margaret doctored everyone in town, so it was different if it had been her. He couldn't remember much of what had happened after the evil had had him. Jut some flashes and faces hovering over him. He put his own face over Lynna, directly in her vision.

"I don't have magic, Lynna. I can't come in there and show you the way back like you did for me. But I'm right here, okay? I'm alive, and I'm right here with you." He took her hand in his, tears rolling unbidden down his cheeks. Her hand seemed heavier than it ought to be and was limp and unmoving in his own.

He wondered if this was how he had been when they had found him. He felt like he remembered walking around, being led, but he wasn't sure. It seemed like it had been a long time ago. Maybe her magic made her susceptible on a different level than him. Maybe it had been able to mess her up more deeply than with him. He could still remember the machete going into Etrick's face--

He shook his head to clear it and he rubbed too hard at the tears on his face. He shifted uncomfortably in the clothes that itched at him. He was starting to regret putting the shoes on, too. Gods, how many times have I been hurt today? He wasn't even sure if it was even still the same day. He could not manage to count how many days it had been since he had woken up after...the boat.

He knew he hadn't slept since, and wished he could. Just for a little while. But he knew better. He picked his head up and rubbed his eyes. No, if he fell asleep the evil would get him. It would probably make him kill Lynna and she wouldn't struggle or call out. No, he had to stay awake.

His head flew back up when the door opened. He turned with a start, and it was Agmar and Yilmack. He looked back to Lynna, suddenly afraid, but no, she was still there and still breathing. He had not actually drifted off.

"Agmar, you're back, good."

"Yes."

"How are they? Margaret and Elsa?"

Agmar hesitated. "They will be fine." He moved over to Lynna. "We need to see if we can help her. I think maybe she will let you in."

"Huh?"

"I can create a bridge of sorts between your minds. Maybe she will let you in and you can lead her back home. Sit at the end of the bed, at her head." Stott did as he was told. Agmar took Stott's hands and put them on Lynna's head with a little space between them. He gently pushed Stott's head down until his forehead touched hers between his hands.

"Stay close, Yilmack," he heard Agmar say before he felt a strong hand on the back of his head.

Stott suddenly felt as if a part of him was being pulled out of and eventhrough his own body. His instincts told him to fight it, to resist it with everything he had, but he honestly had no idea how he would do such a thing. He felt constricted, as if he couldn't breathe, and then there was a moment of freedom. During that moment, Stott found that he could see everthing with an almost blinding clarity. He saw himself, leaned over Lynna. He saw Agmar sitting on the bed behind him, eyes closed and jaw tense with concentration. He saw Yilmack standing next to the bed, a few steps behind Agmar, watching the scene attentively with a measure of rope held loosely in his hands. Over them all, a glowing golden globe of shimmering light sparkled. Beyond it, the room seemed darker than he had thought it was. Stott felt as if the darkness was pushing against the globe that protected the four of them.

A brighter, smaller light - not unlike the glowing balls of light that Lynna and Agmar conjured up in their hands - buzzed around him like some sort of incandescent bee. He went to shoo it away, and realized that he didn't have hands of his own, but was a small ball of light himself. He started to panic, and the moment ended. He found himself rushing downwards towards Lynna at an impossible speed. As he neared impact a gray funnel of swirling smoke seemed to appear and encompass him, pulling him inward.

Stott Jacobs found himself standing... nowhere. There was nothing but blackness around him. He could see his own body again, which was reassuring, and he flexed a hand, testing. In the light, which he couldn't find a source of, his skin looked normal again, without the pinkness of the newly healed skin. The itching was gone too. He was starting to wonder about it all when he found himself overtaken by scenery, as the blackness was suddenly replaced by the docks. It was sunset, and Lynna sat at the edge of one of the long wooden docks, this one empty of ships, hugging her knees and watching the sun go down beneath the horizon.

Stott was starting to make some sense of it all, realizing that none of this was really happening. He was somehow in Lynna's mind. For a moment, he felt like he was intruding, and held back. Then he remembered why he was here. He needed to show her the path back. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to do that, but he expected that his job was to help her want to come back. He moved slowly down the dock, his footsteps creaking on the wooden planks.

"You're dead," she said as he came up behind her. "No more lies, Agmar," she cried out at the sky. "I killed him. He's gone, and it's my fault." Her shoulders were slumped and she put her head down on her knees.

"You're wrong," he told her, sitting down next to her on the dock. "Agmar healed me in time, and it's not your fault." He reached out a hand and touched her shoulder, but she brought an arm up and shoved it away.

"Don't touch me! You're not real, you're just some trick that Agmar conjured up! Or the evil. Maybe you're the evil this time instead of Agmar." She looked at him, her eyes and cheeks red and puffy from crying. "Why didn't you just finish me off? Why didn't you just kill me?"

"Lynna, it's me. Agmar helped me to get here, yes, but it is really me. How can I convince you of that?"

She turned and grabbed him by the shoulders with both hands, looking into his eyes. He felt more than saw the scene around him shift again.

"You were burning," she said, her voice filled with horror. "I had to watch you burn." She turned her head, looking into the window of the burning house. He heard his own screams coming from within. Somehow they were standing now.

"Don't look, Lynna! It's over now! Look at me, I'm right here!" He turned her head to face him. "I made it. Agmar healed me. You're the one who's hurt now and you have to come back or it will get worse! Please, Lynna!"

She shook her head.

"It hurts, Stott. It hurts, and I'm scared." Her eyes welled with tears.

"I was scared too," he told her, pointing at the house and trying to ignore his panicked howls of pain coming from within. "But I made it. If I can live through that, you can get through this. I did want to blame you, Lynna, for a little bit there, but I can't. I know it wasn't you that did that to me. The evil did this, not you. Didn't you tell me the same thing about what happened with my brother?"

"That was different." He could see hesitation in her eyes.

"How? I sliced him open with my father's machete, Lynna! How was that any different than you trying to kill me? At least you didn't succeed!"

"I did succeed with Mrs. Litner, though," she said quietly, looking at the ground.

"I know, but it wasn't you, Lynna. It wasn't you that did it."

He was about to pull her into his arms when he felt something pulling at him from behind. He leaned against it, but it had a cold, iron grip.

"Lynna? Something's pulling at me!" his heart was pounding strangely in his chest. Everything suddenly felt wrong.

"Stott? Is it really you?" She was only just now starting to believe, as his time was running out. He grabbed hold of her, putting his hands on both cheeks, and kissed her.

"It's me," he tried to say. As the words came out of his mouth, however, he was being pulled backwards through the air away from her, backwards through the smoke funnel. There was a moment, again, of clarity. In it, he saw the same scene, but the protective golden dome was cracked here and there, the darkness beyond starting to break its way inside.

Then Stott found himself slammed back into himself so hard he fell off the bed and onto the floor, gasping and choking for breath. He struggled to quickly get to his feet and saw Agmar crumpled forward into a heap on Lynna's legs. Suddenly Lynna sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide, arms reaching out, and inhaling sharply.

"Stott!" She looked around and caught sight of him. "Stott?"

Yilmack was helping already helping Agmar sit up again, and Stott could see that the wizard was still conscious. Stott sat back down on the bed and pulled Lynna into his arms. She buried her head in his chest, sobbing.

"I'm so sorry, Stott. I tried to stop it, I did, I swear! I'm so sorry!" She kept repeating the apology over and over again, and he rocked her back and forth, gently stroking her hair.

"It's alright, Lynna. It's over now," he told her. "That part's over now." His relief at her return felt short-lived, however, as his mind wondered what was in store for them next. His eyes couldn't see if the shimmering globe around them was still up, although he suspected he'd only been able to see it while moving between himself and Lynna. He had a feeling they had managed to narrowly miss another dangerous encounter. No one's eyes showed any sign of the red film though, and Stott allowed himself to relax for a moment, enjoying the bit of calm between the storms.