The room was deathly quiet. The story had caught everyone's attention and stolen their breaths.
“So, which grail shard did you shove into me?” Elia asked with a bit of bite.
It wasn’t like she was angry, not because of the action that had essentially given her a second life. Even if that life was a shitty one and filled with misery up until shortly, it was better than none, or so she tried to convince herself. If the act of jamming the shard into Rye’s head was somehow related to how Elia had died on earth, well, then that was shitty, but what was done was done. The cancer likely got to her first anyways.
But Sam didn’t meet her eyes.
“Vengeance.” Her voice was as quiet as a mouse. “But you were too weak and it broke. No benefits, no godly powers.”
“I see. That answers a question.” All eyes were on Elia as she got up and tossed her cup back to Mahdi. “Welp, riveting story, bunch of callbacks, really made me feel like I was reliving the life of someone else. I think it left a few open points, but hey, that’s what sequels are for.”
“I didn’t mean–“
“Yep, you didn’t. We might tell you mine later. I’m going out to get some fresh air. But hey, if I’m not back by then, you can listen to Rye’s side of the story. You’ll probably enjoy it a lot more than mine.”
With that, Elia stomped out. The cool breeze coming from the world’s end whipped across her hair. She heard a footfall on the stairs behind her, a couple, more than two.
“I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted.”
Elia stared at her gloved palm, opening and closing it over and over. Eventually she did turn to Sam. Her voice was so different without her helmet on, and her face… it didn’t look like the dreams Rye had shown her. More mature were her contours, sharper and clearly defined.
“I am feeling a lot right now,” she finally said, “but I’m terrible with words. What I’m not terrible at is swords.” With a hand on her Moonblade, she met her eyes. “I’d like to show you what I learned, sensei.”
Sam blinked. That alone felt so unnatural. It must have been the two-year sleep still stuck in her eyes, because she was doing it a lot. The Maiden never blinked, nor did she stop to sleep, nor eat, nor drink.
“A duel… you want to duel me?” Confusion. Of course she’d be puzzled. Her armor was as thick as Elia’s pinky, and Elia was wearing casual chainmail-chic over light gambeson. Elia had a short blade, Sam a longsword, and she also had more than a head of height on her.
There was more, but frankly, Elia didn’t care to count. Here stood the titled high knight; there stood Elia.
“Undead rules. All boons, to the death or surrender.” she said, mouth twisting at the slight flinch in her opponent’s poise.
“I am not going to kill you,” Sam replied flatly. “But if you… you who are wearing that body will feel better after taking off some steam, I will oblige.”
Elia snorted. Rye tried to stop her once-flame. She ought to know this was inevitable.
Elia got into a stance. Sam got into hers.
“Do you want a shield?” Elia asked. “I can provide one. I know you have a boon for it; I want to be fair.”
Sam shook her head. “I will fight with one hand behind my back. For fairness sake. Like old times.”
Elia snorted. “Nothing fair about that, not anymore.”
“And your shortsword?” Sam gestured with her chin.
“I have a passing interest in short blades.”
“I only hope you remember what I taught you about reach.”
“Did your undead curse take your body much?”
“No.”
“Good.” Elia looked between Rye and Karla. “Justice, you’re the referee. Make sure this is a fair fight.”
And with that, the world shrunk until it was only Elia and the Maiden. She was holding her longsword in a classic one-handed stance, straight in front to ward off any assault. It was a stance she had seen a thousand times. It was… not bad.
“Ready? Go–”
With a jolt just as sudden as Justice’s signal, Elia pounced, dropped low, and was in The Maiden’s reach. Moonlight pointed at her throat, only inches away. The Maiden had reacted, but only enough to be halfway through a deflection.
Sam looked stunned, stunned and blinking.
“ONE ROUND FOR ELIA–FRIEND!” Justice cried.
Elia retracted her sword and just walked back to where she had started. She settled into her stance again. “I’m Elia, by the way.”
The Maiden hesitated before switching into her own stance, sword held closer to her body with both hands. “I am Sam. You know me as The Old Maiden.”
They clashed. Magic flew this time, a simple bolt Elia punched away with pure tenacity. She wasn’t using her anti-magic gauntlet, as Sam couldn’t use her shield boon without a shield. The exchange ended much the same.
Elia clicked her tongue.
“We traveled the maze together. You found me at my worst. You basically adopted me.” She walked back to her line, sheathing her sword. “Karla, dummy sword!”
She caught the old and rusted sword used for testing for traps without looking.
“I remember.” The Maiden said.
The Maiden lost in three moves this time, one jab aimed at her spleen – parried as Elia intended to turn it into a draw-cut, but her defense ultimately futile as Elia advanced relentlessly, until her old shortsword was under The Maiden’s armpit.
Disapproving, she moved back. This time, she smashed the blade against a tombstone, snapping it halfway.
“We met in the maze, though not by chance; you were already close by, nursing a wound I never knew of. You ought to remember our time together, at least, right?”
“I do–“
“Go!” Justice called and Elia ran.
She had not been using [Frog leap] since the last bout. The Maiden hesitated where Elia did not, besting her with a shard of the broken blade concealed in her other hand. Blood ran down her hand as she threw it into the shrubbery. She didn’t need it to win.
“Go!”
“I may not be Rye, I may not be your lover, but I am a person too.” Elia slammed the pommel of the blade against her bracers, dodged a swipe, three conjured spears, and a stream of rapid-fire ice shards. “A person you nourished and protected and mentored and all I get is this?”
“Elia, please…” Sam begged and Elia saw she was getting to her.
“Again. Karla, what do you think?”
“I think we should all go home and talk this out over tea and grub.”
“Did that, now we’re here.” She advanced, not even hurrying forward at the heap of crumbling confidence. She was only holding a normal spoon one would use to eat potato mash. “What I want to know is this: Did our time together even matter? Or were you doing it because you thought I was someone else?”
To Sam’s credit, she did fight back just as fiercely as before. The strict lines, the perfect thrusts, it was all like Elia remembered it, down to the little habits that could be exploited with a few superhuman dodges and parries. No doubt Sam placed a lot of confidence in those strikes, no doubt she had built her foundations over grueling hours of practice.
Elia had decades, centuries, and none of it was just for fun or self-improvement. When she won this time, catching the lightning-fast thrust with the cup of her spoon, she turned around, tossed the spoon, and appeared ready to fight with only her bare hands.
“Well?” she asked. “Do I have to punch the answer out of you?”
Sam meanwhile seemed close to tears, holding it in by pure dint of being a knight, and the fact that knights did not cry.
“I… I didn’t remember who you – who Rye was, then,” Sam eventually said. “If it is any solace to you, I did what I did out of a sense of righteousness and compassion. Who you were didn’t matter to me. Only that you were, and that I wasn’t alone. Alone in… being a failure.”
She was about to say something more, but Elia did not let her voice her surrender. Pride was a fickle thing that she clung to, while Elia picked that mantle up as quickly and often as she tossed it. She was feeling quite proud at the moment though – a high knight, bested by a girl with a spoon-boon. Rhuna’s greater soul helped quite a bit, but the rest was all pure skill, all her.
“I give up,” Elia said. “I’m not feeling it anymore. Let’s go home.”
“About that,” Karla said.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Ah, right,” Elia slapped her forehead. “Forgot that I’m technically homeless. Well, we can crash at Clearwater temple, maybe finally get that bath I keep on promising. I think we all more than deserved the sweat we built up, didn’t we? Come on, onwards to familiar waters and all.”
She walked past Rye, who looked really pretty with that icy glare of hers.
“Was that really necessary?” Rye asked with a bit of bite.
“What, the spoon?” Elia grinned. That really was quite the stunt. “I think we’re even, considering how she chose to treat me. Can you explain our whole body-swap deal when you inevitably console her? Come on, I softened her up to become putty in your arms.”
“I, you…” she stuttered. “If you want to torture her any further for some perceived sleight, I’d appreciate if you took such issues up with me.”
“Sure, whatevs.” As Rye was about to go help a stunned Sam, Elia put a hand on her shoulders and whispered. “You are getting our house back, somehow, aren’t you?”
Rye nodded, somewhat nervously.
“Nice. Knew I could count on my favorite genius conjurer.”
With a couple of finger guns, Elia excused herself, opening a portal straight to the Pact, safety procedures be damned. She knew everyone who was coming through and with her around, they weren’t going to start any trouble.
***
They bathed and showered and had an awkward time trying to explain the presence of so many strangers. Yes they had used the bowl straight to the Pact, yes, the spymaster was aware, no, Elia did not think this was willfully endangering her entire home.
Honestly, some part of Rye thought that maybe if something bad happened because of this, then Elia would learn to be less flippant about… everything.
She scrubbed at her scaled arm with renewed vigor. The baths at Clearwater Temple were mostly empty around this time of the day, giving her ample opportunity to go through her maintenance routine. After the most recent growth she felt every grain of sand that got between as an unignorable irritation. They were soft and almost finger-length, these white scales shaped like feathers, and went all the way up to her shoulder. The palm of her hand had been growing callused skin for a while, but now those calluses were clearly pronounced between every joint, small coarse pads like a river of smooth pebbles.
Rye caressed them before flinching.
Sensitive. Very ticklish.
With a sigh she applied some oil to her stone and metal joints to make sure they wouldn’t grow any algae or rust.
I’ve changed. Sam barely recognized me. Elia is… angry when she should have been happy. We’re all in a state of flux.
Water rippled around her. Rye kept to her task of cleaning out her joints, ignoring the weight of a pointed stare coming from her right.
Someone cleared their voice.
“Hey Sam,” she said after finally settling on the most casual way to start their reunion. “Are you… ok?”
“I’m alive again,” Sam said from right next to her. “I definitely feel better than a walking corpse should.”
“I more meant, after the duel. How do you feel about that?”
There was a moment of silence.
“I feel terrible. I mean, you would too when you wake up and suddenly your student beats you down like you're some rabble from the streets.” She sounded livid. “I trained to be a knight, I worked my ass off, navigated politics for ten years in my first life, then another twenty in my second one. And suddenly, she redefines what I thought was possible and makes it look easy.”
“She’s good, right?”
“I… I am proud. She got so very far, put in so much work. I am sad, too. It’s my fault she had to fight, for so, so long. But it’s frustrating. Now, I am just glad nobody heard me bawl my eyes out in the changing rooms.”
Rye looked up to see Sam sitting right next to her, eyes a bit red. She repressed the urge to wrap her arms around her in favor of sidling a little bit closer. “The spoon was unnecessary.”
“It was!”
It was honestly a surprise how little Sam had changed physically compared to Rye’s last memory. The contours of her face were more pronounced, but the general shape was still recognizably Sam. Her black hair was done up in a rough bun, and Rye decided then and there that she would get her an appointment with Cesare, who was absolute magic with hair.
Her gaze drifted. From the soft skin of her shoulders down across her modest breasts and toned abs. She covered them apprehensively and wow had she put on some muscle.
I bet she could bench two of me.
It looked right on her, and yet the strength was also tempered by an ocean of compassion.
“Do you need any help with… that?” She pointed at her arm.
“Sure,” Rye said and detached her normal arm. “You can do this one. It’s not as finicky as the other one. Just don’t do anything inappropriate with it yet.”
Sam goggled, first at the arm in her hands, then at Rye’s scales. Rye grinned and made the disembodied one wave at her. The drain on [Dream-haze projection] was minimal.
“I see you’ve grown a sense of humor.”
“I did. I’m still coping with the consequences.”
“You’re also a mechanical doll now.”
“Magi-mechanical. And you’re still bigger than me.”
“Not where it counts.” Sam sighed wistfully, which gave Rye a laugh.
“You’re still on about that? Don’t tell me we got together just because I have big boobs.”
Sam was silent for a while. “Well, I’m also very picky about the shape.”
Rye’s jaw dropped as she turned to her. This time it was Sam’s turn to smile. They both broke out giggling and laughing. No matter how much time passed, some things never changed.
They both soaked in each other’s presence for a while after. “What is it like to be made of stone?”
Rye shrugged. “It’s different from being made of flesh and blood. Heat and cold don’t bother me nearly as much, but I’ve become really sensitive to sharp or reverberating sounds, like metal on metal, or metal on glass. I can eat recreationally, as Kasimir built me to be anatomically correct, but can’t taste as well since my sense of smell is pretty poor. My sense of touch is great though, especially in my lizard hand. And it controls and conducts reservoir really well, better than some of my wands.”
“And your other hand?”
“Spirit damage,” Rye lifted it up to where her right could almost touch her chin before flopping into the water. “Even two years later, it’s still not good enough for anything but being a coat hanger. I can’t even call-cast-calm with it, so I had to relearn all my techniques to be able to do them one-handed.”
“About that…”
“I learned a bit of conjuration.” Rye shrugged.
“A bit? I heard your younger friends say you encased a five-story tower completely in ice.”
“Ok, maybe people think I’m some kind of genius. But I’m not, I just happened to have a good teacher, and now my shard of dreaming really helps with getting in the practice that I need inside a completely safe environment. I just happen to have a lot more time to practice in the first place and–”
“You have a greater…” Sam draped an arm over her eyes and breathed out heavily once just like she always did when something was bothering her. “Let’s talk about something that will allow me to get some sleep tonight. We can get into the important stuff in the morning.”
Rye thought before landing on a point. “You have a husband.”
“I had.” Sam nodded, eyes watching the horizon as she fiddled with the scaled arm in her hand. “His name was Julius and he was a knight. At the time when we first met, I thought I’d never be one. After… after you died, he took me in as his servant. He tutored me, because he saw how hard I worked, and saw that I had potential. I was, however, still a servant, and without good heritage, while it was not impossible to become a knight, it would have been damn hard and likely taken decades.”
“So, you married him?”
“Yes. That way I could be a citizen like he was. Soon enough, I became a squire, then a knight, then a high knight of Loften, if only for a day. It was all thanks to him, and he never asked for much in return.”
Rye’s heart did a skip. “So, it was all political?”
Sam closed her eyes. “Sometimes. He never said he loved me, but a touch is often worth more than a thousand words. He was often sent to faraway places while I stayed at home, being schooled, tutored, and forged into someone I could be proud of in front of him and the rest of the world.”
“Oh,” Rye said, her heart making a small crick. “So, you loved him.”
“I still have our ring.” Sam sighed. “But unlike me, he did not come back. I found his grave, and it was a normal one, six feet below with the rest of the normal people. And I made my peace with that.”
But not with me. You didn’t make peace because you knew that if you tried, you could find me. Were you afraid of losing me a second time?
Rye gulped. Maybe people shouldn’t ask her to choose light topics of conversation. “When you came back from the dead and everyone was gone, how was it for you?”
“Honestly? It was terrifying. I had lost you nearly a decade before. It was just as bad then. I felt like I finally had something, only for it to slip through my grasp like sand.”
“And when you woke up, everyone was a stranger,” Rye muttered.
Sam nodded. “Miss Xilomaya was very helpful in those early hours. Yes, she was a bit of a hardass, and didn’t care for collateral damage all that much, but she showed me what it meant to live a life as an undead. She taught me that I still had my skills and my beliefs and that I was still me. Honestly, I felt free then, and so much more fulfilled compared to serving old farts as a pawn in their political schemes.”
Rye smiled. “You really are a knight. Did you go on any adventures? Tell me, please.”
And Sam did. She told her about the time they fixed up a dam, only for it to overflow further upstream, leading to a full two weeks of panicked labor without sleep. She told her about the dragon knights, and how she had formed a bond of friendship over a shared cup of apple-lemon tea. She told her about the monsters she fought, the heroes of ages past and of the future she saw; the highest highs and the lowest lows all came in turn. Together, they formed a clear picture of the Sam that Rye knew, and the Sam who excelled to become even more.
She lived her dream. I’m so happy I didn’t ruin it.
Sam stood and Rye, reigning in her intense curiosity, did not sneak a peek. It would be rude and what was more, she didn’t know if Sam still saw her like that.
“Well, I’m soaked. Care to show me where our rooms are?”
“Sure,” Rye said, reattaching her arm.
They left the bathing area and followed a stone path to the lower parts of the temple complex. Part of it was intended for housing pilgrims and the undead, though since most people could just choose an abandoned mansion to make their own home, nobody actually stayed here.
Nobody but her, Brod, and the homeless squad.
“Our rooms should be in this rough area, though I don’t see Elia or her little squirts around.” Rye scratched the towel wrapped around her head, checking the number on the plate the attendant had given them.
“Rye? Over here.”
Rye looked inside the room. “Is this your room?”
“It’s also yours.”
They checked their numbers again.
“Why does it only have one bed?”
“Because whoever thought to room us together thought…” Gears turned as Rye tried to remember who was responsible for organizing their accommodations. “Karla!”
Or maybe Justice. Dangit, is this supposed to be an offering of peace or punishment?
“Hey bean,” Sam said, “I found a second mattress.”
Oh thank the gods. I don’t think I could hold myself back if we had to share one.
Rye took the smaller mattress, since Sam was the one who hadn’t slept in a bed in years. She watched in bemusement as Sam prodded the mattress, then flopped down onto it with a contented sigh that almost reached a moan.
She stared at the raven-haired beauty settling down in satisfaction.
“Rye?”
“Yeah?”
“You still want to talk, right?”
“That can wait till tomorrow.”
“No.” Sam opened a sleepy eye and made grabby-motions at her. “C’mere bean.”
Rye’s heart skipped a beat. She got up and was just about ready to settle down in Sam’s embrace when Sam snatched her and dragged her under the covers. Her mind was filled with hectic-romantic thoughts right up until the point where Sam swallowed a sob and buried her face into the nook of Rye’s neck.
“Um, S-sammy?”
“I never got over it when you died, not in ten years, not in twenty. I lost you once.” Her embrace tightened. “I’m scared. What if it happens again?”
“It won’t,” Rye said, gently stroking her hair. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“The world is falling apart. We’re all going somewhere at some point.”
“Then we’ll go together,” Rye said and Sam hugged her tighter.
“I’m not letting you go. Never again.”
She still loves me. She never stopped.
With a smile, Rye closed her eyes and indulged in a few short moments of blissful happiness.