Soldiers funneled from all areas of the caverns towards the door, taking up positions beside Redmun and Cielaine. Plenty of discipline, but there was an unmistakable hesitation to their gathering. Redmun felt it too, but for their sake he stood tall staring a challenge at the door, forcing down the cold fear.

“What is it?” Jessa's voice came through the dim sound of panicked cries and heavy boots.

“Gelstadt.”

“What?” Jessa limped up beside him, still favoring her whole leg, the other still bound in bandages. Dark circles ringed her eyes, but she looked wide awake as ever. “The bastard followed us, then.”

“Dunno,” Redmun said. “I think… I think I felt him coming.”

“What?” Jessa asked again, almost accusatory.

“Not like that. I just mean… I felt like something was going to happen. I don't know – I'll tell you later. After I figure it out myself.” That meant more talking with the Evil – it wasn't as if that buzzing could have had any other source. He wasn't looking forward to that.

“What the hell is going on here?” Brooker, along with about fourty armed and armoured soldiers stomped up behind those already there. “Where's Bo'sett?”

“In there.” Redmun pointed at the door. “Dead.”

“Dead?” Brooker frowned, giving Redmun a measuring look, which he met. “Dead, then. What is it?”

Redmun hesitated before answering, not sure he liked the consequences of telling the truth. Had it followed them there? He just didn't know. “The same thing that got Potsdoor.”

Brooker took a deep breath through his nose, expelling it through his mouth. “Ranks!” With that one command, the soldiers took up positions. “Saint, you need to leave.”

“I'll stay, thank you,” the Saint said as calm as could be. “But I shan't obstruct your men.” With that she drifted to the side of the room, behind the first pillar there. Hands clasped at her breast, her eyes fixed on Redmun.

The one he'd sent after Jessamine returned, along with half a dozen civilians, bundles of weapons in their arms. Redmun swept the Saint from his mind and pointed to the floor. “Here!” They dropped their burdens, and ran off in search of more. “Longer weapons first – halberds and spears and the like. Your weapons will erode, and when they do, drop them. No, throw them! And don't let the erosion touch your skin. If you do, you're dead.”

The soldiers stared at him, uncomprehending and terrified. “Do as you are told!” Brooker bellowed once more, the old man's voice so loud it ought to shake the cavern. Soldiers dove for the piles, taking the longest weapons in reach. Redmun grabbed a spear of his own, Jessamine taking a pike. One by one the men lined up, weapons held out before them. Redmun took up a position at the front beside Jessa, and set in to wait.

Minutes passed, the only sound the fear-laden breathing of the soldiers. Thinking of anything other than their abysmal chances was hard, but Redmun forced his mind to think of what they could do against Gelstadt, other than push him away. A pathetic tactic, but it was all Redmun could think of. The spear was slick in his hands, moistened with sweat.

A spot appeared in the door. The stone fell in sludge-like chunks. The bars, too, became infected by the erosion, dropping away. It was faster than at Potsdoor, hurried even. That miasma hit, and more than a few guards began to choke and wretch. Redmun's grip tightened on his spear.

The door gave way, the hinges and bars shot, what little remained collapsing to the ground as a pool of the ichorous filth. Jessa and Redmun had to step back to not be caught in it.

Shapes lumbered out of the dark. Inhuman silhouettes of the people that had once been, hewn from shapeless tar. Only, unlike at Potsdoor, the things moved with a purpose. They still stumbled, yet they were all moving definitively forward.

“Shit,” Jessa murmured.

Redmun took the first, stepping forward to shove his spear into what had once been a head. As expected it sunk in, doing little. He pulled back, and tried for a forceful swing at its legs. It struck, and sent the thing stumbling against the wall. Jessa took the next, and Brooker stepped forward to intercept another. Redmun tossed his spear – already half gone – at the one he'd tripped, undoing its minimal attempts to rise. “Slow and easy, soldiers,” he said in a soothing voice, bending for another weapon. Only seven in view, so far. “Take your time. They're slow enough.”

Gelstadt appeared. His legs strode, yet his face was impassive, dreamy, barely aware of his surroundings.

Redmun, reluctantly, surged the Evil's power in his chest, making it ready to use, and set his jaw against the pain. He couldn't do anything at range, though. He didn't dare. “Jessa,” Redmun said, worry tinging his voice as Gelstadt came on quickly. “Care to try?”

Jessa twisted a smile, and stretched out a hand. Its ethereal counterpart flew forward, growing into a vicious claw above Gelstadt. It fell, and swung. And shattered.

Jessa cried out in pain, and the Banshee's wail escaped her voice. It rang against the tall stone walls, rebounding into their ears. The entire defense of Lutmouth flinched from the sounds, even Redmun. He barely saw Gelstadt raise a ichorous fist.

Redmun got the spear up in time to block, but the hand sheared right through, splitting it in half. He danced to the side, dodging the next blow. About him some of the Ichor-people attacked the soldiers, still reeling from Jessa's cry. One man's arm was already gone, his hands swiping away at the stuff, only making it worse. All the while he screamed.

Redmun retreated sideways. If he could draw some of the things away from the soldiers, they'd at least have the time to recover. Yet none came, save Gelstadt.

If Jessa's claw had done any damage, Redmun couldn't see it. He stepped backwards, careful not to stumble into anything, and swept up a fallen longsword. Two other soldiers were gone completely, the process accelerated somehow, now attacking their brethren. What had happened? Why were the things so focused, now? Redmun had little time to wonder before Gelstadt's next swing came.

Redmun ducked, barely moving out of the way. Gelstadt was moving with inhuman speed, but the movements were rough, unrefined. Redmun thrust into the opening the attack had created, aiming for the neck.

The ichor there hardened like rock, deflecting the blow. Redmun struck again and again, flinching away from blows in between. None of them took, and left the weapon a drooping mess above the hilt.

The back hit a wall. He cringed on the inside, knowing that the Light-Evil had been watching silently, waiting for this moment, but as the next blow fell, Gelstadt's unmoved eyes watching it come, Redmun did the only thing he could.

His hand, wreathed in light, caught it. His arm nearly buckled from the force of the blow, but the hand held. He pushed the limb aside, striking a blow of his own straight to Gelstadt's body, flashing the Light into his fist as he did. The resulting force pushed them both back, but did little else, and Gelstadt came on once again.

They exchanged blows, Redmun blocking with his hands, Gelstadt – or rather the Evil that wore him – taking the hits, uncaring. Where the Light hit, a thin veneer of the Corruption's surface flaked away, and the light in Redmun's hand would fracture and spark off like shards, dissolving in the air. Not good enough.

Redmun struck with an open palm, forcing Gelstadt backwards a step, and then dashed through the opening. Already the number of ichor-people had increased, and were forcing the others back. A few were moving slower, at least.

This isn't working. Redmun's father walked forward, his face still showing, his eyes looking at the floor as the ichor around him moved. There wasn't a single mark on him, while Redmun's body and mind burned, his endurance waning. Was there nothing he could do but use more of the Evil's power? There had to be something…

Redmun looked up at his father, and saw the distant suffering in his eyes.

He dropped to his knees. “Gelstadt, stop!”

Everything halted. Gelstadt's eyes had flashed open, focusing on Redmun. “Oh,” he said, eyes dreary. “It's you.”

What are you doing, Redmun? The Evil asked.

“Yes, it's me.” Redmun, careful not to move too much, glanced to the side. The ichor-people weren't attacking anymore, just wandering as they had in Potdoor. One of they lay on the floor, not moving at all, the end of a spear slowly sinking into it. “It's Redmun Briandry. Do you understand?”

“Understand what?” His face flinched.

“My name.” Another glance to the side. Could he do this here? With witnesses? Brooker and his men were watching the ichor-people's every move. He couldn't see Celric. “My name – it's Briandry. Do you understand?”

Redmun had wondered at this before, that the man hadn't recognized his own name, but judging by that dreamy look on his face the Evil took up most of his thoughts. Redmun couldn't fight him as he was and frankly didn't want to try using the Evil's power more, despite everything it and Jessa had said. He hoped, perhaps more than he ought to, that they could talk.

“Redmun Briandry,” Gelstadt's pale lips spoke.

“What is your name?” Redmun asked.

“Gelstadt.”

Redmun nodded, and rose carefully, hands in the air. “Gelstadt what?”

He looked away, brow twitching. Redmun could see the effort on his face. The horror of being locked inside that thing, being worn like that. Just thinking of it made him want to break down and cry.

“Gelstadt… Gelstadt… Briandry.” The man's eyes locked onto Redmun's once more. “Why?”

“Rose.”

The man blinked. Out of the corner of his eye, Redmun saw Jessa approaching, a spear in hand. He shook his head fractionally at her. Cielaine slid around the pillar, looking at father and son, awed.

“Rose,” Gelstadt said. “Rose.”

Redmun stepped closer, whispering, wishing there weren't others to hear. “She was pregnant before you left. She never told you, did she?”

“Before I left?” The words rang with sudden clarity. What before had been a whisper was now almost a growl, fresh with anger. “Before she sent me away. Before she threw me away. Her used up play thing.” His face tensed. Tears. “She's the reason. She sent me away. To kill myself. And I failed even at that.”

Redmun's breath rose hot in his tight throat. Rose had said none of this. Rage echoing Gelstadt's began a slow burn in his chest. Knowing that he wasn't the only one she had abused, had debased… Knowing that she'd done it even to his father… Rose had said often that Gelstadt was useless, but Redmun had always assumed it to be some sort of misplaced anger, that his disappearance was somehow the cause of her anger. But no, it was not the cause. Merely another symptom. How cruel she was, that he could discover new depths of her depravity, even after all the beatings and humiliations he'd suffered at her hands. This is all her fault. All of it.

Redmun looked up to his father, expecting their rage to be met, equal, joined. Gelstadt's face wasn't there anymore. Just the ichor. And over its shoulder, Redmun saw Cielaine's face, her eyes wide, almost drooling. She was coming forward.

“Saint, what are you-”

The thing lunged. Before he could move it had its burning, melting hands around his shoulders. Redmun fell back, crying out. Gelstadt was atop him now, that erosion burning through his armor, his clothes, his flesh. Struggling did nothing, and even his cries fell away beneath the shock of it.

The agony sent his mind whirling into desperation. He flourished the Light from within his chest, wreathing his body in it as quick as he could. It seemed to come from within every part of him, as if it had been there all along. He pushed, with his arms, his legs, his back, and the Light. He pushed against the heavy weight atop him, against the pain, against the horror of it all. He pushed, and the Light exploded about them.

Redmun shot up, his limbs shaking uncontrollably. Gelstadt flew off him, inches of the thing's covering burning away from the force if Redmun's light. About him, the people and pools of ichor within ten feet burned away, gone in the flash. Somewhere, the mad Saint was laughing.

Jessa slid to his side. “Oh, shit. Redmun. Redmun.”

He looked up at her, trying to understand what she was so upset about. She was looking down at his numb stomach. He looked too.

Intestines. The bare bones of his ribs, half worn away. Where Gelstadt had held him, hand-shaped holes had melted through.

“You have to heal this Redmun,” Jessa was saying. She held him up, curled in her arms. He couldn't seem to move. “You have to heal-” Her head turned in a flash as Gelstadt rose from the far wall. Redmun looked, his mind ringing with pain and numbness both. The Ichor-people had rebegun their assault. Desperate, a soldier threw his breastplate at one of the slower ones. It hit, and sunk. The thing stopped moving. Why?

“Stop it! How can you do this? To your own son?” Jessa was crying out, standing before him, as if she'd brawl Gelstadt down. “You're no better than Rose!” Redmun's hell fell back. None of it seemed important.

What are you doing lying there, Redmun? The Evil asked. Get up.

Jessa launched a Banshee's claw at Gelstadt, pushing him back. The dead thing's cry escaped her mouth once more, but she kept at it, scoring cuts and hits and punches against Gelstadt, keeping him at bay.

For me? Redmun thought, seeing the woman before him. She was standing proud and strong on two legs and little more than one foot, protecting him. What was he doing? Lying on his back. He could do more. He had to do more.

Redmun let out a groan, tensing every muscle in his body. He reached for the Light, pooled it into his body once more. It battled against the physical pains of his body, the sting of open, grueling wounds against the burn of light, and won out. It flooded his veins, pushing out all pain, all thoughts. In his agonized focus he barely realized he was biting his tongue, but that too was just another pain to be defeated. Inch by inch those agonies were pushed back, replaced with purifying Light.

The pains vanished, and the sweetness hit like a hammer.

The Evil sighed in pleasure.

Redmun stood, still flooding his veins with that purity. His glowing hand shoved Jessa aside, giving her a taste of the rapture. To his side he saw Cielaine rising, her eyes burnt out husks. Yet she was looking right at him, smiling in ecstasy. Redmun smiled back. She understood the torture, and the pleasure, that suffused him.

Gelstadt lurched forward. Redmun's foot met him. Their energies met, sparked and rebounded. Two opposing forces cancelling out. Purest, holiest light against utter filth and chaos. Redmun spat, and the spit came out glowing. Some voice inside his mind cried out in horror, but the glorious Light drowned it out.

He rushed forward, his muscles fueled by the energies of holiness. The Purity must be a god. There was no other explanation. No explanation for the might he felt as he struck Gelstadt's skull with a burning fist, cracking the ichor that surrounded him. He would break the shell that held his father, smashing it into bits, crushing it in his righteous hands! Blows fell, Gelstadt too slow to react. Redmun forced the monster against the wall, and gripped its face. He poured the light into that hand, pressing the thing's skull against the stone, screaming with delight. The world would be rid of this disgusting wretch, and the man inside would be saved! Just like Layla, and Master and-

Redmun slammed away the Light, and the madness fled with it. His hand melted into Gelstadt's face. Redmun fell back, shaking, the last echoes of insanity ringing in his mind. He'd been so close to losing, so close to finally becoming an abomination. But he hadn't. He'd come back.

Gelstadt staggered along the wall. He now moved like one of the other once-people, slow and staggering once more. He fled towards the entrance. No-one stopped him.

The ichor-people returned to their staggering, aimless walk. Some barely moved.

His body shook uncontrollably, but Redmun stood, and found Jessa by his side. “Are you alright?” he asked, and found his voice distant.

Jessa rubbed at her arm where he'd touched her, staring down at the floor. “Yeah. I'm fine,” she said. “What about you-”

“Blessed light!” Cielaine fell to her knees at Redmun feet, clutching his ruined clothes in her dirty hands. Her eyes were gone, their sockets still full of the ash that was left behind. “You have shown yourself to me! Thank you! Thank you!”

Redmun kicked her off, pushing her to the ground. “Get away from me!” His limbs felt rubbery, still numb.

“Your light! The pain! The holy, righteous pain! It is the penitence we have been sent here to find! You are the God's messenger! You!” She scrambled towards him once again, but a boot sent her reeling back once more.

Redmun looked down at the wretched Saint before him, too disgusted to speak. She'd felt the thing's light and thought it good? He spat, though it didn't feel like his mouth.

Redmun shook his head, trying to clear it. Already the crowd was gathering. They needed to be talked to… He took a step forward, and found himself on his knees. “I-” The ground fell towards him.