“Rye?”

No.

“Rye? Are you under there?”

No. No one home but us failures.

Squeak.

And George. George is not a failure. George is a good bean. George–

Someone pulled my covers back and a cold wind made me shrink together even more. A storm arrived shortly after Pim showed me his super-secret door. Wind and weather had caused a stir that awoke people from their half-hollow slumber and the temple was alive with a buzz of unease and anticipation. People were going down to explore the catacombs and coming back less poor.

But it was cold. George snuggled deeper into my armpit.

“Hello.” I said, staring ahead at the lovely boots of Avice.

She didn’t have those before.

“You look horrible. Did you have a nightmare?”

“No.”

“Shall I tell Vinesse that you need a moment to freshen up? Five more minutes perhaps?”

I silently shook my head.

“Not enough. It’s never enough.”

“Rye, you cannot still be sulking about what happened to the fortune seeker.”

“Can too.”

She sighed. The tap-tap-tap of her feet echoing impatience. But not in a bad way.

“You have been lying there for six days. You didn’t even come out to spar. Moggen did not mind his free time, but I am worried, Rye.”

I turned my neck to look up at her.

Yep. She does look worried alright.

“Is this going to happen every time you claim another person’s failure as your own?”

“Nhhhhh.” I said and rolled over.

She knows me. Damn this friend! I don’t deserve her either. Just one moment. A single moment of not watching out for danger. Of looking for loot. Eyes of greed and not of learned carefulness. Then bam. Trapped treasure chest. Blood. Screams. Dead. A person I had barely come to know. Not even a good person. But not a bad one either.

I still feel like shit. Ugh.

The butt of something woody prodded at my neck.

“Get up.”

No. No up. Just sleep. I want a nice dream. A happy dream.

Another poke.

“Stooop.” I groaned. But Avice proved persistent.

“I refuse. Get up.”

“Nhhhh.”

The poking and prodding went on for some time. All my tickle-able areas were well armored and so it proved not very effective. Eventually, Avice started getting a bit annoyed. The sigh that followed made me feel even worse about letting everyone down.

“I will not be the one to tell our party leader that the frontliner is indisposed due to a case of self-pity and ennui.”

I huffed in discontent. “That’s not even a word.”

“It is too. It describes your weariness, discontent and apathy quite well.”

“Just use those words next time then.”

“I will.”

“Ok.”

Our little back and forth turned silent once more. I had had a horrible week and ending it with an adventure into the dreaded muck, the spider-swamp of doom was not very enticing. But Avice just wouldn’t let go. She walked around and sat down in front of me, forcing me to acknowledge her presence at least somewhat with my eyes.

“Rye. Talk to me.”

“’bout what?”

“Rye, don’t just, just…” she sighed. “Gods, was I this difficult to talk to before? Where is your jolliness? Your stubbornness in the face of adversity, your endless drive? What happened to happy Rye?”

I shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe she’s down in the catacombs. Maybe she’s stuck at home. Maybe she’s not real.”

Avice pursed her lips. “Did you know him?”

“Who?”

“The treasure hunter. The man with the wild face.”

“Ah. No, not really. His name was Howard. He was a bit of a coward. And he liked getting treasure without a fight. That’s about it.”

“And you knew him for how long?”

“Dunno. I talked to him the first time that day he died.”

She sighed and had a face that looked like she didn’t really know what to do with me. Eventually, she settled on well-intentioned persuasion. “Gods, you’re precious Rye.” And a bit of flattery. “But no one stranger is worth your endless sorrow. And certainly not as much as you have already given.”

I looked weakly into her eyes and almost cried. “How? How much is everyone worth then? Can you tell me how long I should mourn the stranger known as Howard? George? Pim, Ritz, Vinesse? How much sadness would your death be worth?”

She sat there in silence and let me continue on.

“We live in darkness, we fight for treasure and for light, and then we die. How do we know it’s worth it? Or if it isn’t? What is this all for? The Wolf knows, probably. But he isn’t telling me anything. Neither is Glom, curse her name. Nor is Harris, but he remembers just as little as the rest of us.”

“Rye…”

“Why were we brought back, if we are to just die again?”

The heaviness of the question lay like a blanket over us both, thick and suffocating. But it was worth asking. Not knowing was worse than any number of answers could be.

“I know what it is like to fail.” Avice eventually spoke up. “What it feels like to drift to the bottom and linger. But we are not made of stone, Rye. We can swim. Can learn it.”

I scoffed. “Yeah. Except I’ve got a lame hand and forty pounds of armor. I just… sink. I’m too dense.”

I felt the touch of a hand at my cheek. Then another. Avice turned my head towards her and squished my cheeks together. “Stop trying to breathe water, Rye. Are you a fighter or a fish?”

“Neither. ’m an egg.”

She blinked almost audibly. “Alright, you made me lose the metaphor.” But she didn’t stop squishing my cheeks. Caressing them almost. “You remind me of a sister I once knew.”

I refrained from thinking too much about how everyone else I knew probably had family that was now dead. “Was she a good sister?”

“The worst. She possessed too much wisdom, even at a young age, and made sure it was known to all.” Avice smiled. “But she built herself up, from bad to better. Ugly to beloved. Scorned to betrothed.”

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because. She was blessed, but she too had to start small. Build herself brick by brick. And you, Rye. Stop trying to save everyone and the world. Start small. Start today.”

“With Krah?”

“With Krah, our blinded Bekki companion. Vinesse swears she knows a cure. And we are all going out to find it, for his sake and ours.” She extended her third hand, offering, palm up. “Now. Fierce little warrior. Will you lend us your strength?”

“I’m not very strong though. Or fierce. Or smart or perceptive. I’m a mess.” And yet I knew that it was all just an excuse to stay lying in bed.

I took her hand and pulled myself up.

“Good.” She said, still smiling, despite knowing what lay ahead. “I would not want anyone else standing between me and the monsters of the swamp.”

My smile was half content, half uncertain. “Yeah, sure. How about Moggen?”

“He is too stuck up. And I cannot see over his shoulder all that well.”

“Vinesse?”

“Casters do not belong up front. Neither do leaders.”

“… what about Ritz?”

She scoffed as we walked up the stairs towards the outside. “Really, Rye. Ritz?”

I shrugged. “Well, I guess I just assumed you’d enjoy having someone in front who’d actually willingly take your lengthy stick.”

That got her to laugh out loud, half choking on the waterskin she just put to her mouth. “You scandalous little beetle-bug.”

“I, I am not a beetle-bug!” I said in mock outrage, but that just got her to laugh even harder.

Eventually, she caught herself, wiping away tears. “I would never lay my hands on the courtier of another.”

That got me to pause, and I almost dropped my new shield. I hadn’t attached it with my tried and tested technique of strapping enough belts to fasten an entire village worth’s of pants with. I leaned against the wall and awkwardly tried to do it on the way up, but Avice saw that I was struggling. We stopped and she gave me her waterskin before helping me get my hand through the two grip pieces.

“What do you mean, courtier of another? Who would court Ritz, of all people?”

She focused on a strap around my wrist and fiddled with it a bit. “Ritz is not all that bad, Rye. It surprises me you hadn’t noticed, in all this time. He’s trying to woo our resident leader, Vinesse.”

“No.”

“Yes. You know what they say. ‘Tis how ‘tis'." I in fact didn’t know the saying. But I could imagine what she was meaning to convey. And it did sound catchy.

“So, he and Vinesse are…”

“No. There is nothing mutual between them. Or if there is, they are very, very good at hiding it. The temple premises are dark, but they are scarcely all that large.”

“Huh.” Was all I had to say to that before the sounds of some very loud people interrupted our gossip amid the stairs.

“An’ then I burnt his balls off. Scream he did, that lad. High, like a girl, hah! Blindfolded bastard. Alright, who’s up fo’ getting some more boons?” Said a man the height of Avice and with the width of Mog. Though in raw strength and the absolutely deranged look in his eyes, neither of them were his match.

He and a gang of six or seven others swaggered down the stairs as if they owned the place. The man bumped into Avice, and the way his eyes roamed from down, up, down, then up to her face, I had no doubt that it wasn’t an accident.

“Watchit puppit.” He said and showed us exactly how many teeth he was missing. Which were zero, but with the black spots growing like moss, he wasn’t looking to keep all of them for long.

Avice just stared him in the face, a blank expression as he stood way too close for much too long.

I can smell his breath from here. And the blood. Gods, so much blood.

Finally, he turned and made his way further down with his posse, bumping Avice away with his shoulder again.

“What an assweasel.” She said as she rubbed her shoulders clean of an invisible filth.

But the deranged man stopped. And turned around. He walked the few steps back up until he stood right up in Avice’ face. “Care to repeat that, puppit?”

The stare in his eyes told us both that there was no right answer here. Avice gulped. “R-rye. Water, please.” She said and I could not believe my ears.

I gave her the waterskin and rested my hand on my sword.

“Careful now, pipsqueak.” He said and stared a hole in me from the side of his eye. “Let th’ grown-ups do some talkin’.”

He was starting to scare me. Enough that I sheepishly took my hand off it and avoided his gaze. But not enough to keep me from planning for the worst. I was ready to scream.

If he’s got a knife, or a weapon, or anything, I’m jumping forward. I’ve got a shield. Poor Avice doesn’t. I need to do it. Hell, I bet even his punches can kill. What then? I… I don’t know. He’s got an axe by his side. He’s covered in blood.

I don’t think the two of us can win this.

But Avice didn’t seem as worried as I was. She simply put the waterskin to her mouth and started drinking. While he was still a foot away from her. He must have been confused, because for a moment, he did precisely nothing. Then, he bashed away the container.

“I was fucking talkin’ to you, lass.”

Avice was silent, wiped away some water at the corner of my mouth. “And what exactly do you want?”

The man smiled, hideously. “An apology, of course.”

She kept on staring him in the eyes, green against barren grey. But then, she started nodding. “Very well. If that is what you wish. Apologies. For calling you an assweasel. I spoke out of turn.”

She was about to turn back to me as a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. “You’ve got a nice accent, long lass. But how ‘bout a real apology, eh? On your knees, bitch–“

Before I could react, Avice stepped towards him and the man froze. One hand against his chest, to keep him from touching hers. The other, deep down in his nethers, clutching a thing of sharp glistening black.

“Hey.” She said. “Do you enjoy being a man?”

At his lack of response, his shock probably equal to mine, she pushed her hand in further.

“It… it has its difficulties.” He said, darkly, and through gritted teeth.

She cocked her head and cupped her chin. “Oh?” she said in false surprise. “My condolences then. I shan’t impose on you further.”

She pushed him down a stair, gently, and then let her knife-hand slide back just as slow. The man had an unreadable expression on his face, and Avice made a dismissive shooing motion with her black glassstone knife. Like a true noble.

“On your way then. Be good now.” She then turned around and I knew that it was high time to go.

We walked up the steps, me perhaps a bit too fast than was normal for someone on the winning side of an almost-knife-fight. I looked back where Avice didn’t, making sure not to let the brute out of my eyes. He didn’t move. He just stood there, staring after us.

I don’t like that look. Not at all.

“What the fuck Avice!? What was that?” I whisper–yelled at her as we got out of earshot.

“Language. Also, whatever could you mean? I simply put him in his place.”

“Avice, this, this is not normal. What is with you? Where is timid Avice? Aren’t you scared? Aren’t you worried he’s gonna do something horrible while you’re not looking, while you sleep or…” I looked at her, then at the array of water flasks she had strapped to her belt. “Is it… Avice. Have you been… drinking?”

“Yes. I mean no, no, not as you'd think.”

“Avice. What’s in the bottles?”

“Water.”

“Uh-huh. Avice.”

“Yes Rye?”

“What if I took away your water bottle. Just for one day?”

Avice practically shrieked at me. “NO!... no.” She repeated more quietly. “Anything but that.”

The windmill of thoughts in my mind was running in a storm and after a moment, as we reached the top of the stairway and the clear dark sky greeted us, it came to me.

“Avice. What I’m about to tell you is very important. Like, super important.”

She patiently waited for me to continue.

“If you have been drinking wine, or ale, or anything with alcohol in it really, then you might be… addicted.”

“And what does… ‘addicted’ mean?” I

“It means, well… the Wolf told me that if you drink things like alcohol again and again, you won’t be able to stop it when you need to. When you can’t go without it, that is ‘addicted’.”

“Ah.” She said and unpropped a much smaller water flask. She gulped it down in one single swig. “No, it’s just water. Though I suppose going without will be the end of me one way or another.”

I was not convinced by her oddly confident smile. She gave me the bottle and I sniffed. It really didn’t smell like there had been anything in there at all. Not the sweet smell of wine, or the burn of anything harder. Nothing. No trace.

“Avice…” I started, but before I could continue, she cut me off.

“I… it is complicated. I shall tell you what it is on the way, alright? I swear. On Ruthe.”

I was torn, but we were already approaching the rest of the group. “Alright.” I said. “But whatever you’re going to say, it better be good. If I find you have been hiding wine from me, by Worga, I’ll…”

I shook a fist at her face and she laughed, before pulling her stone mask over hers.

“I’ll drink it all away.” I whispered as we joined the rest of the group.

“Avice. Rye. Took you two long enough.” Ritz said. “Did the dastardly duo have fun waking each other up? Intertwined, in each other’s arms, sharing coin, skinship and more? Well, I bet–“

“Ritz.” Avice said.

“Yeah?”

“You are not funny.”

He mimed an arrow striking him in the chest. “Aaah, aaah! I am slain. Wounded. Hit, even! Ouch. Ow.”

A clap sounded out and Vinesse stepped forward. “Alright everyone, let’s get a move on. We’re heading into the swamp, the drowned chapel specifically. Rye, everything ready?”

I sighed, knowing that now that I was this far, there was no going back. “Yes ma’am.” Though, with the new company within the temple, I was almost glad not to be there for the rest of the day.

Actually, scratch that, I think the swamp might be better. Emphasis on might. As long as we stay to the shallows, I’ll be fine. Yeah. Keep telling yourself that, me. Breathe in. Breathe out. You got this, me.

“Good. Ritz, you’re back with me and Avice. Moggen, you and Rye will make a solid front.” She looked me in the eye, not judging, but calculating. “Also, go and help her with her new shield.”

He walked on over to me and I reluctantly showed him my shield arm. He immediately went ham, unbuckling half the belts and rearranging half the rest.

He pulled one close and there was a brief spike of pain. “Ow. Ow. I said, ow, Mog.”

“Do not call me that.”

“What, and call you Moggen? Sir Moggen?”

He gave me an evil eye. But on the scale of evil stares for the day, his was frankly mild. With his pointy visor, he had the look of an indignant shrew.

“Not sir. Not lord. Not anything. I am Moggen.”

“… but you’ve got armor. With a coat of arms. Weren’t you knighted?”

He took another belt and gruffly wrapped it a bit too tightly.

“OwOwOw!”

“No. Now man up.” I gave him a flat look. He sighed. “This needs to be tight. I’d also highly appreciate it if you took this excursion more seriously.”

“I know how important it is. Krah needs us.”

He didn’t say anything. “It is not just Krah you should worry about. We are short our best combatant. Avice is not dependable. And we all will have to pick up her slack. That includes you.”

I shrugged, but he just yanked my arm a bit here and there and put on the finishing touches.

“We are going into uncharted territory. Barely anyone goes far into the swamp. Horrors aplenty could lurk there.”

You can say that twice.

“And something is watching us.” He said.

Yeah, no, nope. None of that.

“Don’t worry. As long as we’re not going off the deep end, and… beware the fish, all we’re set to find are squishy spiders and slightly larger bristle spiders.”

He scoffed and with one last tug, he stepped away from my right. I lifted my shield arm up and down, wiggling, thrusting. The shield was heavy, but not too heavy. And man, I had to give it to him, his work was solid. It didn’t slip or slide half an inch.

“I’m sure there’s worse.” He said and with that, we were off.