Avice gently put me down and we walked around the temple side by side.

“I was serious, you know. If you need help with anything, I’m here to help. Unless it’s murder.”

Avice chuckled. “What about burying a body then?”

“A… body.” She gave me a halfway serious look. “Well… Avice, if there’s anything you want to tell me, I’ll listen. I won’t judge. We’ll still be friends.”

After another second of silence, she burst out laughing. “Gods, you are precious. I was just joking.”

“Just a joke?”

“Yes.” She calmed down and with a sigh, the mood turned a bit less jovial. “Though… I am uncertain whether you, or anyone can help me at all.”

I got the definite feeling that she just didn’t want to burden me with it. She was walking around without her mask for once, allowing me to admire the changes that just a few feet of extra light, extra soul did to the body of someone other than myself.

Her face was filling out, regaining a sharpness that simply wasn’t there before when the skin stuck to the bones like wet paper. Though her scar still marred her face, and it didn’t look like it’d ever heal closed, she appeared more and more how I’d imagined a lady of nobility would look.

“Y’know, if you ever want to cut and regrow your hair a bit better, Harris has some stuff for that.” I said, scratching the short fuzz that had grown on my head over the last few months. “It’s pretty cheap if you’re willing to pay with soul.”

“Really? How much?”

“A foot of dim light.” I could see the mill of her mind turning as she took in that number.

“That seems rarely worth it.”

“I dunno. Have you seen Vinesse’ hair?”

“Ah. Well. Possibly worth it a tad more, then.” She sighed. “I cannot believe we are still to divide our loot.”

It was indeed a shame. I wasn’t expecting much of a payout unless people were hiding some serious treasure in their pockets. But it should be enough for me to buy a few small things. The hair growing creme. Some extra pocket space. A small sash or knapsack maybe.

I really want a sword.

“What’s it like? To pay with parts of your soul?” I asked her.

Her face took on a complicated expression. “It… is rather difficult to describe. It takes some practice to focus the right amount in your hand. I’d liken it to a prayer, but as for how it feels? Like scraping.”

“Scraping?”

“Yes. Like you are taking a part of what you are. What you know. Or what you think you know and are. And scraping it off. I’m… not sure how else to describe it. But it is uniquely unpleasant.”

That sure didn’t inspire a lot of confidence.

“Did you lose a part of your memory?” I asked, with some obvious sense of unease. After all, if the soul didn’t just help me remember, but also made me forget when it was absent, then who was to say that the soul wasn’t just memory itself? That it was just filling in the blanks left over the hundreds of years since we died?

That everything I remembered was not my memory at all, but just a mix of the people and things I’d slain?

What if I’m not myself?

It was a terrifying line to think along, and I had to forcefully put a stop to it before my pessimistic imagination spiraled out of control again.

Avice simply shrugged. “If I did, I do not remember. I seldom worry about it. We forget things all the time. Sometimes for the better.”

Our walk slowed to a crawl as we stood before one of the largest tombstones around the temple. We stopped, as Avice read the inscription, mouthing something without sound. I took a peek at the main part of the inscription and quickly learned why.

“Histraia of Viln.” I said.

Avice remained quiet, most likely in deep thought. I decided not to push anything further and give her time to sort her thoughts.

“One mummified cat with jewels for eyes?” she eventually said. “Aunt Histraia really did get her way in the end, to be buried alongside sir Hampton.” She added after a while.

Sir Hampton. What a silly name for a cat. Then again, George was also a silly name for a rat, so maybe I shouldn’t be one to judge.

“You’re somewhat related?” I asked hesitantly.

Avice nodded. “It is coming back to me. In… wait…” She had a blank stare for a while before seeming to return back to the world of the living. “Sorry. I had a… memory moment.”

“Yeah, I get that. Memory moment.”

She sighed again. “I… I should do something. About myself.”

“About the freezing up in combat, or the violent vomiting afterwards?” She didn’t seem to like my joking tone, instead bristling against it.

“The… freezing. Both, preferably. I-I truly am sorry, Rye. If I hadn’t been such a coward at the fort, you-“

I held up my hand to silence her. “Hey, if I were good enough to do anything besides being one-sidedly beaten down upon, you wouldn’t have needed to make that choice. And you’re plenty brave, just for going out there at all.”

Once more, she didn’t look convinced. “I get that it’s hard.” I added. “I… don’t want to kill people either.”

“I see. You think the dregs are still people?”

I blinked at her before realizing that having lived a few hundred years before me, she probably wasn’t brought up under the image that all human life was sacred and that killing was a sin no matter how you turned it.

“You don’t?” I asked.

“Well… they seem undead. We are undead. No one is enforcing any laws around. It should be fine, right?”

“Right…” That was an angle I would have to explore later. “So, why do you still, y’know…”

Her face took on a curt smile. “That is just me being me. And some bad memories. Frankly, if I could sell the part of my soul that held those, I would do it right here and now.”

Now that was at least something I could resolutely disagree on. After all, why would you want to forget some of the few things you know about who you are, who you were?

A memory can’t be that bad, right?

But the fish came to mind. And the water. The thrashing. The smell. The choking. The…

“If you want, you can join me and Mog for sparring tomorrow.” I eventually said, trying to get the image of scraping off pieces of my own soul and body out of my head. “He’s a bit mean, but I’m sure he won’t mind too much.”

She scoffed. “Frankly, he is a plank.”

I had to giggle at that, not just because of the choice of words. “I’ll take that as a yes then?”

“It is not to first blood, is it?”

“First hit. We use sticks.”

It was her turn to laugh. “Sure, sure. I look forward to it.”

I turned to her, a tiny impish grin tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Looking forward to what? Having Mog yell at you or losing to an effectively one-handed girl?”

She shook her head, still laughing quietly. “Neither, preferably. I shall endeavor not to embarrass myself.”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

The next day started with a long run followed by the classic full-body stretches and muscle-exercises. Once the worst of our pent-up energy was spent, and I failed to get into a meditating mindset, we took a small break before starting the sparring. Mog had no complaint seeing Avice at my side, though we weren’t going to gang up on him. That’d be a last resort, if all else failed.

Naturally, I got beaten into the ground quite handily. I got the impression that he was being unusually hard today. Maybe he was trying to intimidate Avice. Maybe this was how he showed his dissatisfaction at me inviting people over unannounced. Regardless, I was a bit bruised afterwards. I slunk back to Avice, half annoyed that he wasn’t pulling his punches anymore, half happy that I almost got him on his back foot.

If only my arm were an inch or so longer. I almost had him.

I nodded to Avice, who nodded back at me and adjusted her stone-faced mask. She stepped up to the slightly winded looking Moggen and then the second round of sparring began.

I stood slack jawed as Avice methodically demolished Mog over the course of ten bouts. I was relegated to holding her waterskin, a new acquisition, and a very important one she said. Though, besides the first, she didn’t even need another swig as the first set of ten was over within three or four minutes. The scores were nine to one in her favor, and she was using her spear, though only the wooden butt of it.

Oh boy. Moggen looks pissed.

“What. The. Hell. Avice.” He yelled, his tone somewhere between indignant, confused and absolutely agitated.

Avice of course nearly jumped a bit. He had a very loud voice. I gave her a pat on the shoulder, and she straightened up again. Which was to say, she stood tall, at her full six feet. She wasn’t burdened by so many pelts anymore. She had sold them all and with the way she carried herself, I could finally believe that she was part of the aristocracy.

You go girl! Smack him! Kill! Murther!

I stood there giddy, trying not to reveal how much I was enjoying watching Moggen repeatedly eat dirt for a change.

“Are you unsatisfied with this bout?” Avice asked “Would you like another?”

“This is not about satisfaction. Even a poor spearman will handily win against a trained swordsman on most days. But you are not a poor spearman.”

She’s a spearwoman. Spearperson? Whatever.

He flipped his visor up, a strand of short strawy hair rolling down his face. “I am not unsatisfied with this bout. I am unsatisfied with you! If your spearmanship was this proficient, why didn’t you bother showing it sooner?” The accusation lacing that word was palpable and Avice justifiably shrunk back a bit.

“Hey, Mog, she’s got stuff to deal with, ok?” I said.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Sadly, I wasn’t Vinesse, and I lacked the finesse to deal with Mog the moody.

He wiped off the mud on his greaves and looked me in the eye. “Well then she better deal with it. Her inaction when action is necessary and expected is inexcusable. It endangers the entire team. Last time it was Krah, tomorrow it could be someone else.”

This was not going the way I’d hoped it would.

“Mog, don’t push this all on her, alright? Everyone was tired and bruised at that point. Nobody expected to be attacked on temple grounds. That just... that doesn't happen.”

He just pointed directly at her. “She was right there. You didn’t see it, Rye, but against that abominable centipede, she could have done something. She could have stabbed it. Stepped forward, up to the task as she has so evidently proven right fucking here!”

I was about to open my mouth again when Avice stopped me.

“No, he is right. In some manner.” She said. Then, she turned her focus on Moggen. “I understand why you are so concerned about this. No matter what I say, you already hold me in considerable contempt.”

“I’m not the only party concerned” he said and let his gaze rest on my face.

Once again, she took the lead before I could say anything. “How about a bet? From aristocrat to aristocrat. If on our next excursion I do not perform up to your or Vinesse’ standards, I will never bother either of you again. If I do, you will treat me and mine with respect. Does that sound acceptable to you?”

Both of us were taken aback at the suggestion. Though Mog less so than me.

How can she suggest a bet like that? How can she even begin to try and solve whatever is keeping her down when the blood starts to flow? She’s not planning on fighting blind, is she?

“I accept.” he eventually said. “As Moggen of Errin, in place of my father Sir Edwin, I will hold thee accountable to thy words.”

Avice nodded. “And I will hold thee to thine.”

And just like that, it was settled. Avice and Moggen went at it again, sparring their ever-loving hearts out while I just sat on a nearby rock and took up all the worrying that Avice currently was unable to do herself.

Where is she getting this confidence from? She’s confident, right? She has a plan, right?

Dammit. I need to help Avice with this. Somehow. But where do I start? With her bad memories? With her hate for blood? Will getting her more armor make her feel secure?

I was too distracted to do much else but doubt, even when Mog eventually had enough of Avice and challenged me to another fight. He was exhausted, but even then, I only landed a single good hit when he slipped on a few wet leaves.

She’s got good gear already. Her spear is long and pointy. Spears are great, apparently. Wait.

I gestured for Avice to give me her spear. She did and I pointed the butt at Moggen.

“Hah! I have outsmarted thee this day, Sir Mog the moody!”

“I am not a Sir. Nor am I moody.” His voice betrayed that he was. His frown was all but disappeared from it.

He carefully kept outside of my reach, stepping one foot in before immediately pulling out the moment I tried to move my spear. I wasn’t doing too great. I had never really held a spear before and only having one arm to go off of also wasn’t all that confidence inspiring. It was also quite tiring, and so I adopted a shorter grip, leaving me with more control, but less reach. It was still a lot longer than his.

I have to admit, seeing Mog suddenly be so careful around me is making me feel all kinds of powerful.

“Have at thee!” I yelled and feinted a stab.

I didn’t pull the shaft back quick enough. He simply stepped forward and batted the spear out of my hand.

“Uh, mercy milord?” I asked as he pointed his stick at my face.

He scoffed. “You don’t even amount to a poor spearman yet.” He said to me, and then to Avice: “If you want to endear yourself, feel free to tutor this girl why reach is everything in combat. She’d be much more useful if she could hold both a spear and her pity of a club, let alone wield either one.”

I scoffed right back at him. “Gimme a shield and I’ll stand in your face all day, menacing and whatnot.”

Before the battle of scoffs could was fully underway, a fourth voice gained our attention.

“Gentlemen, Ladies.” Vinesse’ less tired voice echoed, though the tone was still quite discordant with the dark shadows under her eyes.

Woah. Another big word. Dis-cor-dant.

She had Ritz in tow, who himself looked only slightly less unflappable than normal. Though, the moment he saw Moggen and me, the smile returned to his face.

“Best be careful Rye. That vile fiend of a man is known for his lack of mercy. Where he sticks his stick, only dishonored men and women are left weeping in his wake.”

There was a moment of awkward silence without rebuttal.

“Amusing Ritz.” Avice eventually said. “Though as you’ve arrived without yours, I assume you willingly came to subject yourself to his mighty baton?”

Another moment of a rather shocked silence reigned. No one expected that kind of comeback. Least of all from Avice, of all people. Vinesse just looked at her as if Avice was a talking headless chicken. Moggen was completely still as stone. Ritz seemed to be choking on a withheld laugh.

“Then again.” She said, seeing that all attention was on her. “Maybe you’ve come for someone else’s.” She gracefully picked up her spear and rapped it on the ground. “We both know mine’s longer.”

That killed Ritz, and he nearly fell over bursting with laughter. I looked at Vinesse who seemed to be debating whether a body snatcher replaced Avice or if she was just having a bad dream. A twitch of an eye. A tug at the edge of her lips.

Wait, body snatchers exist? No. Yes? Maybe. Probably just in fairytales.

Wait, fairies exist? No? Yes. Yes. Definitely not just in fairytales.

Moggen's stone-like face was marred by strongly furrowed brows. He too knew her behavior was a bit more than unusual.

“Alright. Enough horsing around. It’s time to divvy up the loot.” Vinesse said and people eventually calmed down enough to sit and listen to what she had to say. “Our last haul was not exactly fruitful. We didn’t spend much time in the castle. It wasn’t a time for thoroughness. Setting that aside, the loot. Ritz.”

Ritz was still red headed from Avice’ unexpected rebuttal and he kept sneaking glances at Moggen and Avice, then cracking up laughing a bit. An increasingly grumpy looking Vinesse got him to calm down again.

“Fine, fine, sorry for having a bit of fun.” He unfurled a wrapped cloth tarp and presented the gains so far.

“So, among the six of us, we’re dealing with the following: three steel daggers, one glass-stone knife, twelve balls of wyckwax, fifteen mixed gemstones, one armband inlaid with what I am to believe are called 'Howlith' gemstones, close to a hundred mixed coins, three spare pants and two spare shirts, a ring made of silver, five or six small statuettes of probably gods or something, a pendant, three candle sticks…” he gave me a look ”… three weird engraved stones henceforth known as sharpening stones, about twenty-three feet of fiber rope and a pair of woman’s underpants.” He sighed. “No comment on who picked that last one up.”

Vinesse’ expression returned to its neutral-tired state. “Thank you, Ritz. Now, everyone. You may call dibs on something you wish for yourself. Don’t be overly greedy. If there are conflicts, resolve them like adults. Since two daggers are already taken, Ritz, Rye, you may call dibs last.”

I nodded and almost immediately, Avice called dibs.

“Underpants.” She said completely straight faced.

There was a pause before Ritz gingerly handed her the thing. “Only lightly worn. Better wash it still.”

Ew. Ewewew. Ew.

I nudged her in the ribs. “Should’ve just bought some fresh stuff from Harris.” I whispered.

“Harris is a cutthroat merchant. He is also my nemesis in case you have forgotten.” She whispered back.

“A pair of spare pants and a shirt for me.” Moggen said.

No one raised an eye as he demanded two. They were likely a set, or they were worth so little no one cared.

“For me as well.” Vinesse said and took her pieces from the pile. “Burial-bandages are not meant to be worn this long. Or by the living.”

That got a chuckle out of me and Mog. Everyone else seemed to either have been blessed with comfy clothes already or simply didn’t care too much.

Somehow, that got me thinking about Krah. For the first time in a while, I worried whether he was alright at all. He kind of carried half of our fights with his unrestrained and wild whirlwind strikes. He was not a bad person. Even if he was Bekki. A Bekki. Whatever.

I really do hope he gets better. Somehow.

“Rye?” the voice of Avice shook me from my thoughts. “Rye, do want to call any ‘dibs’?.”

“Hm, what? Oh, right, right.” I looked at the slightly diminished pile and on first notice, there was nothing I really wanted for myself. I already got a dagger. The last pair of pants were waaay too big for me.

I can fit both my legs through one of its own leg pieces. Also, it’s got an unhealthy-looking stain. Ew. Not clean. Not clean at all.

“I’ll take… the glass-stone knife.” I said.

Ritz himself took a pendant, depicting a woman and a man on the inside. He stroked it gently in his hands and fell into thought for a moment, before shaking himself out of it.

“Sorry. A memory happened. I… I might need a moment.”

“Memory moment.” Both me and Avice said in near unison. Ritz smiled and bobbed his head up and down, as if agreeing with some joke only he could hear.

“Right. So, Vinesse? If I may offer a few suggestions.” He said, sounding a bit more serious. “There are a few items we have to talk about.”

“I agree.” She said. “First, the ring.”

The ring was made of two strands of silver, intertwining like vines until they formed a round hoop. It was pretty, and I touched my own ring, a simple copper thing.

“Is it a magical one?” I asked.

“Magic doesn’t fit on a thing that small.” Vinesse said. “Not our mortal sigils at least.”

“Could it have been made long after you were dead?”

“Perhaps. Or it is just a mundane ring.” She held it up and turned it in her fingers. “Or a gift of the gods. It could also be cursed. We don’t know and will need to get it appraised.”

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“Have you asked Lohan of Nowhere?” I got a bunch of confused looks as an answer. “The food-grilling guy.” That got a more understanding reaction. He was the only other caster in the temple I knew of. It was better than nothing.

“I’ll ask him.” Ritz said. “But that isn’t what I was going to bring up. I was talking about this.”

He pulled something from a belt bag and held it up so we could all see. It was a small glass vial, opaque, and with what looked like a few drops of liquid fire gently wobbling on the inside.

We all looked on in wonder, or uncertainty. Not even Vinesse knew what it was. “Ritz. Explain yourself.” She said.

“Well, you see. I hear some things going on in the temple. We’re not the only people who’ve had enough of twiddling our thumbs and letting time go by unused. Many of them whine on about how the Wolf stopped hunting for them, like it’s the end of the world. But it did get some of those people off their asses and out to gather their own food.”

“Ritz. Not important. What. Is. This?”

“This?” he said. “I got it from this big tusky dude. Said it was red-burnsalve. Rumored to heal anything less than a missing limb or a broken bone. It cost me, but I got it appraised by food-guy. I mean, Harris. It’s the real deal.”

The silence that hung in the air afterwards was brimming with a whirl of heat. Vinesse tried to weasel details out of him, but Ritz didn’t know much himself. Moggen was more apprehensive and asked to see it for himself.

Surprise Moggen, but the glass feels the same in your hand as in Ritz’s.

“How much did you pay?” I asked.

Ritz just shook his head. I could easily find it out if I saw him all alone and counted his light, but the way he was keeping mum about it, I got the impression he didn’t want people to count it against him. Or in his favor. It must have been a lot.

If this stuff works, he should be proud of what he did. It’s a very noble thing to do.

“It’s warm.” Moggen said. “Hot.”

Ritz nodded. “Might be able to heal Krah with this. His eyes. I’ve heard of Bekki warriors that fight blindfolded, but there’s no chance for him to get accustomed swiftly enough. Or at all. There’s also a catch.”

We all listened intently as he purposefully let the tension grow. “The healing isn’t very accurate. It isn’t very full. Complete, so to say. We should test it out on someone first.

I immediately felt like gazes went to my arm. My right one, the one that was still paralyzed. I tried to wiggle my fingers once more.

Still fucked. Also, if its something with the bones, it won’t work. Which it is. I think. Stupid hand.

But when I looked up, I was not the center of attention. It was Avice.

Of course. Large obvious tear through her cheek. It won’t hurt her too much if the healing isn’t complete. I’d still rather carry the risk myself.

She looked nervous, but after taking a swig of her waterskin and licking her wound through her cheek, she looked firmly resolved. “I will do it.”

The nods all around sealed the deal. Avice received the vial and held it in one hand. Another carefully unstopped the cork stopper. The last spread her cheek-skin taught as the second one carefully took a drop and smeared it along the edges. Everyone watched with bated breath as the liquid fire clung to her wound.

We’re probably all just waiting for something bad to happen. It can’t just be me who’s worried, right?

She finished applying the oddly alive looking fire goo and for a moment, besides having an ember-like glow along her wound, nothing seemed to happen.

“H-how do you feel?” I asked.

Avice looked at me. “A bit hot. A bit tingly. It feels oddly… warm. Comforting actua-“

She let out a gasp as the glow on her face intensified and we all watched in horrified suspense as small wisps of steam emerged from the edges of her wound. A moan was chocked out of her throat as the edges grew closer and met along the middle. I tried to hold her hand, but she was burning up, and sweating a river.

The whole thing took less than ten seconds before the embers on her face cooled off and subsided, leaving a drained but still upright Avice sitting, surrounded by a huddle of worried faces.

“Did it work?” Moggen asked. “I know what I can see, but someone tell me it worked.”

“Sure did.” Ritz said. “That was only a third of the vial too. Gods, that works fast.”

“Avice? Avice, can you hear me? Are you alright?” I asked. The result almost spoke for itself. Her wound was closed and the glowing crust was quickly flaking off in small ashy bits.

She moved her mouth, almost mimicking a frog at dinner, before she spat out a mouthful of ash and other icky stuff. Her gaze was locked steady to the front, and she gingerly touched the side of her cheek. Her finger jolted back as if burnt, but she quickly touched it again, and again. Her eyes widened.

“A mirror.” She said. “Someone fetch me a mirror. Please.”

Vinesse came to the fore, a small and bent metal mirror in her hands. It was enough, as Avice took in her face. It was awash with a complicated ocean of emotion, but if anything, it looked happy. Even as her tears silently fell. Even as her two hands caressed her pink scarred skin.

“So. It works.” Vinesse said. “But we can’t use this for Krah’s eyes. It leaves too much scarring. Good work, Ritz. Though next time, tell me before you act on your own.”

He sighed. “Yes ma’am.”

Everyone looked at each other, our short bout of happiness dampened. For all but Avice.

“Thank… thank you. Everyone.” She said between wiping away tears. Ritz waved her off, but she would have none of that. “No, I am serious. Thank you. This means… a lot to me. I will pay it back. I will pay it back ten times over. To everyone. That I swear.”

“Good.” Says Vinesse. “Your conviction is appreciated. We will have use of it as well. Now, onto the second important matter that brings us together this day. A source tells me there are other ways to heal Krah’s blindness. Be ready for an expedition in six days. We’re heading out into the swamp.”

She paused, letting her gaze swerve across the gathered group. “Has anyone been there before?”

I shrunk together, withering under that simple question.

I don’t want to disappoint. I can help. I need to raise my hand. But it’s the swamp. I’m never going back to the swamp. Ever.

The smell of burbling muck and the taste of the dead ground clawed themselves back out of my memories and in the moment, all I could feel was an undirected fear.

I raised my hand. “I-I… I’ve been there.” I said, quietly. I was half hoping no one would notice.

“Good. Then we’ve got a guide.”

Yeah. But it just had to be me. I don’t even have a new shield yet.

Shit.