Sally found herself ing baot to the feeling of ice-water shooting up her nose, but the smell of stew.

  She opened her eyes and saw Lucy standing above her, a mixed look of anger and relief in her eyes.

  “So, is the Demon dead?” Sally asked, mood still buoyed by the victory.

  “About as dead as you,” came the deadpan reply.

  She groaned. Her st stands seemed doomed to fail.

  8. On Dying and Reviving – July 27, Year 216

  The ‘stew’ turned out to be more of a pe made of dissolved hardtack, with a thrown together mix of salted pork, carrot and yam. It still tasted fine – more than, even, since she felt huhan she’d been sihe seveh, the day she woke up.

  And wasn’t that a thought, that everything had only been ten days? It felt much lohough she figured st night’s battle was a rge tributing factor. The adrenalihe feeling of dueling a true Demon, the feeling of victory turning into a near death– well, certaih experience, before waking up to a feeling of victory once more…

  It was a lot to take in, a repeat of her first revival iers of the arroyo bined with the bone-deep exhaustion of the bloodfiend battle, multiplied tenfold. Sally holy doubted she would be moving this day at all. Even scooping food from the bowl in her p and into her mouth took effort, let alone walking.

  All this pounded with the presence of another person, a woman she’d met only four days ago and now wanted answers she didn’t know she should give, even if she could. Thankfully, Lucy had staved off questioning after seeing her y still on the ground, sweating and panting from the exertion of both the battle and subsequent revival.

  Sally wasn’t sure what answers she should give anyhow. She’d figured she would until Lovesse before spilling her experieo her brother, and from there they could figure out to getter what was going on, fix what needed fixing and expl the breadth of her ges.

  But something in her did want to let the pilgrim know about her. The woman was a mystid whatever had happeo her definitely fell more within Lucy’s expertise than her own. It was likely her panion had more of an idea on what was going on than Sally herself had. Lucy had even seen her in a vision. Surely the woman must have seen something that could help her uand?

  But there was also the question of trust. They’d spent only four days together, and while they’d had plenty versation during the journey, she’d only just begun to get a grasp of the woman’s personality. Deeply inquisitive to be certain, and a light-hearted, joyful demeanor most of the time. Simultaneously, she was a true believer in her religion, though thankfully without any of the rigidness, preaess or zealotry that often came with the type.

  But there was also an ambition and an anger of some sort buried within her. Lucy had occasionally, though never directly, spoken about her dislike of the Praesidium, the elders tasked with ‘overseeing’ the Dekantist holy pces. There’d been a fire ihen, and though she kept the tone light-hearted and her smile bright, sometimes it had a vindictive, anticipatory edge to it.

  Could that ambition, that anger or desire for revenge or whatever it was, turn against Sally? See her as a tool to reach her goal? Beyond the tirelessness and other physical blessings, her revival – now more than a one-off miracle – bined with the visions Lucy had already received before, could certainly be twisted intious statement of some kind. Perhaps it didn’t eveo be twisted, but simply told ahe truth do the rest.

  She doubted Lucy was that cold, it would go against the rest of her character, but fear and uainty were rarely logical. Sill, they’d fought a damned Demon together. That has to t for something, right?

  So, she made a decision and halfway through her breakfast, and began the versation with a soft opening.

  “You said the Demon survived, right?”

  Lucy, seated just a few feet away from her under a linen cloth stretched out opoles, turo face her. For a sed she remained silent, eyes scrutinizing, before turning her head back to her own breakfast.

  For a moment, Sally thought she’d get the silent treatment, until Lucy replied.

  “That explosion you were caught in… It wasn’t a suicidal st strike or something. It was to unch its sword into the sky and take off. It certainly didn’t e down again.” Lucy said.

  “But how do you know it survived?” Sally asked.

  Lucy gave a shrug in respohose attacks I did– we both did, meant very little to it. That Demoher too stupid or not alive enough to accurately guess at how much damage we could actually do to it. It was why I khat st attack would cause it to flee so abruptly. It wasn’t that it was strong, it simply looked overwhelming.” The woman scratched her cheek, tone softer and mildly embarrassed. “Didn’t know it would do it so explosively, though.”

  Lucy turned her head again and, seeing Sally’s questioning look, expined further. “Enters with the Kispan Dalqa are rare, yes, but memory-visions about it do the rounds in the clergy, added by the not-so-tall tall-tales from travelers. I’ve heard of it fleeing from such magic attacks a good dozen times, and surviving much, much stronger ones.” This time, Lucy’s gaze remained on Sally, urgio talk.

  She stalled for a few moments, before carefully beginniory.

  “You know about the Erling incursiht? And the destru of the Vils?” Seeing Luod, Sally tinued. “I didn’t, until ten days ago.” Her voice was softer than she meant to, but Lucy caught them heless. Her gaze sharpened with i.

  Sally cleared her throat, though her voice remained softer than she wished.

  “Over six months ago, in the sed week of January, we – my mentor Niall and another pair of Wardens from the Guhas – went on an iigation.” Visions of the day pyed through her mind, still raw. “Some herd had gone missing – happens all the time, of course – but one day a farmer was taken as well. In broad daylight, that close to the Vil itself? That’s a problem.”

  Sally took the st bite of her pe, staring at the metal tainer’s bottom.

  “We specuted on what did it. What creature had the intelligeo take make a person disappear? Were they bandits? Skinners? Shykes?”

  “Erlings?” Luterjected.

  “That was my guess, but not what we found. We spotted skinner-wolves attempting to y an ambush for us – we had set ourselves up as bait, you see? But we weren’t prepared to fight a group of skinner-wolves and would’ve left, if it weren’t for one of the other wardens bringing explosives with him.” Because of me-, she halted the thought.

  Taking a deep breath, she tinued. “The new pn worked great. We lured them with the sheep we brought into a gully while the two Guhas provided overwatch, ready to drop the grenades. Niall and I waited in the gully for the signal. The demo in, they blew them up and dazed them and we began shooting them. Like sitting ducks they were, really. Until the Erlings attacked from the rear, having id an ambush for us. Like we were the ones supposed to be hunted!”

  Sally suppressed the shakes going through her hand. She remembered the surety with which she fired her rifle – Aors, a rifle would’ve been handy yesterday! – and the feeling of a job well done, before everythi wrong.

  Suddenly, she felt something draping over her ned left shoulder. Lost in memory, she tensed for a sed, cold shock crawling up her spine and her fight or flight choosing to freeze instead, before she remembered where she was.

  Lucy had sat herself down beside her in the red sand, arm over her shoulder in a side hug.

  “I was ter told by the Grandie soldiers – they own the fuha pound, now. Turned into a whole military base! They told me that the leader of the incursion was some kind of shaman, and had some magic that could trol them. Course, we didn’t know that and the sughter reversed. Niall threw his share of the grenades and it all became chaos.”

  Lucy’s hug became tighter. “Was that when you died the first time?”

  “I did my best, but there were just too many! Both Erlings and skinner-wolves surrounded me, and when I noticed that at some point the Guha Wardens had stopped firing, I knew I was done. When I got studer a skinner-wolves corpse, I drew my grenade and took out whoever I could along with me.” The retelling done, a weight was lifted and she begahing easy again. “Then, I woke up six months ter, in the same gully but filled this time, flowing with water.”

  They sat for a while in silence, listening to the winds caress the dunes, until Sally had calmed down.

  “Reborn from the water, huh?” Lucy mused, giving a st reassuring squeeze before standing up, moving towards her side of the camp.

  That was what she took from it? It was an unfair thought, but still. “You see any water around here?” Sally asked, hackles raised.

  Lucy turned around, showing a roll of her eyes. “Yes, I see that, but not what I meant. There was water involved in your first revival, and the first time is always more signifit.”

  Sally’s deadpan stare in response elicited a scoff from Lucy.

  “Not what I meant. It’s just– You died in a dried-out rive, and then renewed with the ing of new water, nourishing new life in the harsh desert. Its symbolic, you know, and with magid miracle, that’s important.” Lucy had found what she was looking for: two teens. “Would’ve been eveer if it were spring, you know?”

  She offered one of the teens and Sally took it, twisting off the cap and taking a mouthful.

  “Well, I’ll promise I’ll time it better ime we fight a demon.” Sally joked, her earlier spite gone. She didn’t know about that symbolism stuff and unless it answered some questions, she didn’t care.

  Luorted before falling into silehey sat together in the heat of the m sun, Sally undoubtedly more fortable than Lucy if the past days were anything to go by.

  “It was strange, you know? Watg you survive that. Be revived.” Lucy broke the silence.

  “How so?”

  “You were nearly pletely gun, a burned-out fleshly husk with bohen, I saw you be structed bit by bit by these small rivulets of blood, crawling upward and carrying smaller ks of you into pce.” Lucy sched up her face. “It was… blegh, and kind of amazing. Where did the blood even e from? Seemed to just rise from…”

  Without warning, Lucy seemed to have an idea. She stood up and got in front of Sally, teen still in hand and an odd look in her eyes.

  “ we try something?” Lucy asked, a pensive look on her face.

  Sally’s eyebrows shot up. “Sure?” she replied, unsure.

  “Cup you hand for a bit, will you?”

  Sally did as asked and held up her hand. Lucy began slowly dripping water from the teen into it, reg something while doing so.

  “With thy blessing, Saint Prior. Through thy rite, Prophet Ao thy ward, Unknown Ahrough thy line, Aral Palters. By thy will, Water Spirits. Reveal the instrument, repair their snares, restore their form aheir destiny echh their spirit.”

  Each drop added weight beyond the ordinary, a metaphysical ohat her ha heless. The water turned a blue deeper thahe deepest part of Lake Prior. The small puddle remained remarkably statid stable, refusing to slip through her fingers or overflow from the edges of her hand, even as more and more oured into it.

  Sally raised her eyebrows. “This isn’t ke water, I hope?”

  Lucy shook her head. “Trig someoo taking the Sip ’t be do is warded against deception, forceful feeding and even actal intake.” Lucy raised the teen back up, closing it with the cap. “Besides, do you think I would trick you like that?”

  Lucy’s eyes widened and an exaggerated pout on the pilgrim’s lips. Sally snorted in response.

  She looked back at the water, forebodingly heavy and dark in her hand.

  “So, just drink it?” She asked, looking up and seeing Luod.

  She hesitated for a moment. Even by Vil standards, she was only barely religious, participating ies h the aors that build the Vils more by social vention than true belief. Her thanks during the rites were genuine, but more because it was deserved than as some form of worship.

  She simply didn’t care about the Evergraced. They were ton, too removed from life in the Circuits to be anything but a legend of another nd. Likewise, the Dekantist religion tracted her. She didn’t live around Lake Prior and while she could accept the water ecial, it was just that: special water. She felt no e to their Prophet, their reverence of water – beyond it being fual to life, of course – nor the teags it espoused.

  She narrowed her eyes at Lucy. “This isn’t some kind of ‘join my religion’ thing, is it?” She certainly wasn’t looking to join.

  “No, it is more of a… how to expin it? Like a test to see if something is cursed, how and why and by who, but instead focused on blessings ected to water? Specifically, water reted to the Ante, but also the lineages of sainthood and angels, and one’s aors?” Lucy shrugged, dissatisfied with her own expnation. “Look, it’s a vague thing, but it either works to your be and tells us something, or it does nothing it all.”

  Well, nothiured…

  She drank the water.

  It was an odd sensation. It felt slimy, yet not. Thick, yet like inhaling air. A weight like molten lead flowing dowhroat, but with the taste and velocity of water. Slow and fast, hot and cold, light and heavy, mental and physical; it felt like all these things. It left her feeling refreshed, an energy that had been g restored.

  But that was all.

  Lucy kept staring at her, watg her like a sheepstealer does a goat, eyes trag her body for any ge or movement. Then, she asked: “Well, what did you feel?”

  Sally expined, after which the woman just scratched her , then shrugged.

  “Well, it certainly has nothing to do with the A least not directly. Maybe a tenuous e to or through Lake Prior? Nothing to do with the Unknown Angel, but a clear e to water, if only because it worked at all. But strangely nothing about to do with the Palters?” Lucy shook her head.

  A sed of silence reigned as Sally watched with anticipation, only to be left wanting.

  “What, that’s it?” Sally asked, incredulous. She’d certainly expected more.

  “Well, it was a longshot. You at least cross the Ante off your list, and the Unknown Angel and your aors. Has something to do with water, as I thought. That narrows it down somewhat.”

  Lucy went back to her p the shade, Sally watg her with some amount of incredulity.

  X

  The rest of the day they barely did anything, only moving to the other side of the road – leaving the Red Wastes – and walking a few miles toward their destination. Sally’s exhaustion was lessened by the ritual, but not goil the end of the day. Lucy had a harder time recuperating, saying that the mental exertion of the st spell had cost her much.

  Thankfully, very little had been lost itle with the Kispan Dalqa, despite all the fire. Only her knife was sgged and the clothes she’d worn had been burned, but she’d brought spares. Her pistol had been buried deep enough and located far enough in the sand that it hadn’t been affected by the bst. Apparently, the feeling of it melting in her hand had been more mental than physical, a spell focused on her perception rather than the on itself.

  Their stuff had been outside of the final bst’s range, along with Lucy, so nothing was lost there.

  Still, despite the day being unproductive, she felt good about it. Even if the water ritual left her fused.

  It wasn’t that she expected great answers, but this was, like, the inverse getting answers; they’d answered questions she hadn’t asked. And what did it mean that her aors had nothing to do with it? She hadn’t known they could have had something to do with it. Were the Vil elders right? Were they something to be worshipped?

  Still, she supposed the pilgrim was right. It did narrow things down. Hopefully her brother could provide some answers.