Chapter 32

She moved to the next man that lay moaning on the ground, two men shadowing her as she did. She turned and smiled at one of them as the sailor lowered the basket he was carrying so she could grab some bandages out of it. In the other hand, like his friend next to him, he held a large mace. Sometimes the people she bandaged had only just suffered the impact of one of those maces moments before, but it was the best they all could manage right now. It felt as if the planes of hell had opened right there in Eagle's Harbor, and the townsfolk and visitors were the demons today. As she began wrapping bandaging tightly around the man's wounded arm, she wondered how many of them would actually survive it all.

"Mary! Mary, over here!" Margaret's voice called urgently across the yard.

Mary tied off the bandage and gave the man a reassuring pat and smile before rising and heading towards Margaret. She tried to strech her back some as she went. It ached from trying to drag people, some of whom felt as if they'd been twice her size. She stifled a yawn and then looked to see what it was Margaret wanted her help with.

Mary stopped short, her hands going to her mouth as it gaped open in horror.

"Oh gods!" she whispered. "Avern!"

Tears were already rolling down her cheeks as she tore across the rest of the yard, her heart pounding. She fell to her knees beside him, all but shoving people out of her way.

"Avern?!" her hands went to his neck and it took her a moment before her panicked fingers found a pulse.

"Margaret?" her voice wailed as she looked at the healer. Margaret's face was pale.

"I don't have the tools. I need a fire. Oh, gods, I can't do this..." Tears rolled down Margaret's cheeks as well, and Mary reached over and shook the woman.

"Margaret, I need you to keep it together right now! There's plenty of fire - half the town is on fire, for gods' sake! Tell me what you need and I'll get it somehow!"

"Are you his wife?" one of the men standing near them asked her suddenly.

"What? No! I... I love him!" She found herself suddenly overwhelmed with regret that she hadn't tried to approach him sooner. All the time I've wasted because I thought he felt he'd made a mistake that night. I thought he resented me! If there's a god listening - any god, please! - please don't let him die like this!

"I'll help you. He saved my daughter," the man told her.

"Aye, we'll help ye too Lady Mary." She felt one of the sailors behind her touch her arm. Suddenly, she felt some of her strength and hope returning.

"Margaret? What do you need to save him?"

A part of her wanted to ask what had happened, but she knew that just then it didn't matter. What mattered was saving him.

Margaret was rattling off a list of things she would need, and men were offering to go find them. "Something metal big enough to sear the end of the leg with. A skillet or something would work, but it needs to be extremely hot. And do be careful!"

Mary was both impressed and thankful for Margaret's calmness and focus. She had always been good in times of trouble. Mary was having trouble looking away from the visible bone.

"Mary," Margaret said, "there are herbs I'll need to make sure this doesn't get infected." Mary finally looked up at hearing her name. Tears were running down her cheeks. Margaret, on the other hand, looked professional and confident. That was her way in times of crisis.

"I'm nearly out here, I don't think I'll have enough for this. Can you run to my house for them?"

"Sure. Anything. What do I look for?"

"I have them all labeled. I did that years ago when I first started teaching Elsa. Those jars will all be labeled 'anti-infection.'" Margaret listed a couple by name, and Mary blinked, hoping to remember them. "Just get me some of two or three, I'll sort them out when you get back. There are little bags that you can put them in. Don't bother trying to bring back whole jars. A handful of each will be good."

"We'll go with you," said one of the men who had first said he would help her.

Mary nodded and turned, a part of her relieved to have something to do finally. She couldn't bear to see Avern looking like that. His complexion was all wrong and the bloodied stump was distrubing to see. She felt sure that Agmar wasn't going to be able to fix this one.

She stood and started running, hearing the two men jogging alongside her as she made her way towards Margaret's house. She dodged around and away from other people as she went, not wanting to be delayed by defending against attackers. A flood of relief washed over her when she saw that Margaret's house still stood, unscathed by fire as of yet. Nearby buildings burned and collapsed, but Margaret's stood, seeming serene and perfect as Mary approached it.

The front door was unlocked as they entered. She must have known she might need more things from home at some point, Mary mused. She's always planning ahead. I'll have to be sure to thank her for that. I never really realized how much trouble she goes through for all of us, trying to anticipate what she'll need to mend our wounds and sicknesses. She made her way quickly toward the kitchen, and then stopped short, her heart caught in her throat, as she saw who was already there.

Jacob Bentz stood in the center of the kitchen, the small table pushed to one side and out of his way. He held a sword in each hand, low at his sides. She recognized one as a cutlass, the kind the sailors frequently carried. She was pretty sure the other was a short sword. She wondered who he'd killed to get them.

The entire front of him, both clothes and skin were thickly covered in blood. Bits of something hung clumped in his hair at one side of his head, and the wound at his neck still oozed wetly. He made some sort of gurgled, wailing noise as he saw her and she heard voices in the room whispering, calling her 'whore' and other similar names.

She heard one of the two men with her swear as they stepped forward. The one who'd spoken to her put a hand out and moved in front of her.

"Stay back ma'am."

"No." Something inside Mary snapped. She was sick and tired of the evil, and even more sick and tired of Bentz. She was not about to let Jacob Bentz get between her and the herbs Margaret needed for Avern.

"Give me that." She grabbed the man's sword from his hand. She obviously caught him off guard as she had it out of his hand before he could react, a look of surprise on his face. She turned and advanced on Bentz, holding the hilt of the sword with both hands, the blade extended in front of her.

"Get the hell out of my way, Bentz."

He grinned at her and raised the two swords to the ready. She could see that his teeth were coated with a layer of blood too.

"Lady, don't!" The other of the two men protested, moving forward quickly and trying to get between her and Bentz.

He lunged at her suddenly and it occurred to her that for all her determination, she really had no idea how to use the sword. She jumped aside out of the way, and she slashed as his back. She did hit him, but not very hard.

Bentz didn't even seem to notice, but turned and slashed out with one of the swords. There was a loud clang and the sword was knocked out of her hands. It clattered across the floor where it ended up partly under a padded chair.

"I'm going to enjoy this, whore." Bloody drool leaked out of Bentz's mouth when he spoke. He stepped forward and she backed away from him. It was not a big room to fight in.

One of the men grabbed up a chair and hit Bentz in the back with it. It didn't even knock Bentz the littlest bit off balance. He took another step forward without missing a beat.

"That can't be good."

The taller man retrieved his sword. "Hey, bastard," he called out. Bentz turned, and Mary took the opportunity to move to another part of the room, closer to the one still holding the chair.

"Get what you need here, we'll try to keep him occupied. He'll have to divide his attention between us." He swung the chair again. This time Bentz wheeled and lashed out with one of the swords. It smashed the chair apart. The man looked down at the two legs he was left with. "And hurry," he suggested.

Mary turned and moved off into the small sunroom, where she quickly began scanning jars, bottles and bags for the names Margaret had mentioned. She didn't see the bags that the healer had mentioned, but she did find a mostly empty milk crate that she overturned to dump whatever herbs that had been drying across the top of it. She found an area of jars marked 'anti-infection' and recognized some of the names from the ones Margaret had rattled off. She stuffed as many jars as would fit into the crate, along with a couple of nearby jars for good measure, hoping they would be useful. As she worked, she tried to ignore the crashing and yelling coming from the kitchen behind her.

She turned back to the kitchen, hefting the heavy crate in her arms and watched as one of the men tried to block as Bentz slashed at him. He managed to get his sword under the one Bentz had swung, and deflect it off to one side, but Bentz brought the second sword upward, slashing the man in the chin and up across his face. He screamed and stumbled backwards, suddenly trying to get away.

The other man, who's sword Mary had used before, stood up from where he'd obviously been knocked over, and plunged his sword deep into Bentz's back. He pulled the blade back out, black with the shopowner's blood, and Bentz turned around and looked at him seeming unphased. Bentz raised one of the two swords he held, as if to strike the man down, but then turned his head towards Mary. He slammed the back end of the sword hilt across the side of the man's head, sending him sprawling backwards into the kitchen cupboards, and then started crossing the room slowly towards her. He grinned and scraped the two blades against each other, grinding metal on metal as he advanced.

Neither the crate nor its contents would make an effective weapon, and she had nothing with which to stop his swords. She backed away, not knowing what else to do. He followed.

"Take his damned head off, Mark," she heard one of the men say. Mark swung his sword a Bentz's neck, but it did not bite deeply enough to do the job. It did stop Bentz's advance, however. Mary continued backing up.

Bentz turned and attacked the two men again. They held their ground, moving apart so that Bentz's attention remained divided.

Mary backed into a kitchen counter. She turned and saw a big, heavy iron skillet. She set the crate down and grabbed up the skillet. It was nearly too heavy for her to lift properly. She would not be able to wield it against swords, but she judged it would hit with a lot of force when swung.

She steeled forward, bringing the skillet over her shoulder like she would with a wood axe. One of the men took a slash to the abdomen, but it must not have been very deep, because he kept his footing. Mary threw everything she had into bringing the skillet down on Bentz's head. It hit with a low, reverberating thunk and the crunching of skull being broken. Bentz went down like a dropped rope.

"Come, on, quickly," she said after a moment passed of Bentz not moving. The skillet slipped from her fingers and she winced at what sounded like floorboards cracking at the impact. She turned and ran the short distance back to the crate. "Let's just get back there."

The one who'd been cut across the face grabbed one of the kitchen towels from a stack that was neatly folded and sitting next to the sink. He pressed it up against the worst of of the bleeding.

"Lu?" the other man, apparently Mark, asked. "How deep is that?"

"I'll live, let's just get back. Maybe when she's done with his leg that lady can sew me back together too." He gave a wincing half-smile.

Mark nodded and turned back to Mary, stepping gingerly over Bentz's crumpled body as he did. Mary gathered the crate in her arms again, being careful to make sure none of the jars dropped out as some of them were a little precarious.

Suddenly, Bentz grabbed hold of Mark's ankle, and the man tripped forward, falling into Mary. She fell backwards against the wall, clutching the crate as a couple of the topmost jars rolled out and went smashing to the floor. Mark turned and brought his sword down onto Bentz's arm.

"Damnit, just DIE!" He emphasized each word with the swing of the blade, taking Bentz's arm off near the elbow in the process. He reached down and pulled the hand off of him and flung it away from him once it was disconnected from the rest of Bentz. Mark then turned and stabbed his sword into Bentz's back a few times for good measure before standing up and coming over to Mary again. Lu had made his way over, edging around Bentz close to the wall.

"That guy doesn't know when to quit!" Lu said with a measure of astonishment.

"Well, that part's no change for him, really," Mary replied. "It's just the homicidal nature and the not dying part that's new."

"Let's go before he catches another wind then, shall we?" Mark said, frowning.

The three exchanged nods and headed quickly for the door. Mary practically flew through the streets, skirting around the fights. Bodies lay here and there on the ground and Mary wondered just how many were still alive as she passed them. She saw a few people out in groups of three, checking on the bodies and carrying them back towards the Surf & Sleep. It occurred to her that Margaret might be glad to have the whole jars of herbs after all, with this many casualties to handle. By the time she reached the yard next to the inn she could tell that the people lying on the ground there had nearly doubled in the time she'd been gone. She made up her mind to try and focus on helping them while Margaret helped Avern, somehow knowing that that was what Avern would rather she'd do. She couldn't keep her heart from skipping a few beats, however, when she came in sight of him again. His complexion had not improved in the time she'd been gone. She had to force herself to breathe normally as she approached.

Margaret looked a little astonished at the crate. "I figured you'd come back with a little of this and a little of that..."

Mary looked around briefly, exaggerating the motion, "I think you're going to need more than a little of this and a little of that. How can I help you best?"

"How can you...? I guess start separating the living from the dead. I know too many are dying before I can even get to them," Margaret said, taking the crate from Mary and setting it on the porch. Mary had never seen Margaret looking so...broken.

"I'll see what I can do," Mary said, turning. It looked like possibly as many as half the bodies strewn about were actually corpses. Some people were moaning, and some were crying, but some part of her worried most about those who weren't.

She stepped forward, terrified with the expectation that the dead ones would get up and attack her. It seemed like the next trick the evil would try. She was sure that Bentz had been some special exception. She really hoped they'd seen the last of the evil's tricks. It was not long before she realized they had not.

It was the movement that caught her attention. Not from the immediate area where people were lying about haphazardly, but out the corner of her eye. The movement was in the streets around them. She saw dogs and cats, deer, a bear, maybe even a wolf. There were rabbits and squirrels, and crows and other birds.

It looked as though the forest had converged on the town. But none of them moved right. The bear had a gaping hole where an eye should be. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that they were all dead animals. With the next beat they all leapt forward to attack.