Chapter 58: Ch. 57 Evil Has Been Vanquished

Once the moment passed, Julie helped Sammy back to the snow seat. However, something was wrong, Julie seeing it in Sammy’s eyes, seeing how unfocused they were.

Sammy asked, “May I request something of you?”

Those words not directed at Julie, she sat down, fingers entwined with Sammy’s and heart aching with every beat.

Lelytha looked at wife and wife, then said, “What request do you have?”

“You are still a god, yes? Please, tie our souls together that we may meet again in our next life,” Sammy said, her misty gaze now centred on Julie.

Julie broke, overwhelmed with an intense panic. Eyes wide, heart in her throat, she stood up, other hand coming to cup Sammy’s scarf-covered cheek. “No, don’t say that,” she whispered. “Everything’s okay now.”

Sammy weakly smiled, then shook her head. “I am already at my limit.”

Julie stared back, but barely lasted a second before her head dropped down. Then it was like she was yanked by invisible strings, practically throwing herself at Lelytha’s feet, landing in a begging heap.

“Please, save her. You’re a goddess! Please, please, please….”

Julie didn’t dare look up, her pleading trailing off as she ran out of breath, but her mouth still moved, tears still fell.

A hand gently rubbed the top of Julie’s head and her heart broke even before Lelytha said, “I cannot.”

“Why?” Julie asked, not upset. A question asked out of exasperation, the answer unneeded.

But Lelytha gave it anyway. “I was the goddess of animals and animals do not heal like people do. They survive, or they perish. That is the only blessing I can give you.”

In the deepest darkness, the smallest light shined bright. Julie froze for a moment, then slowly looked up, face slack. “What?”

Lelytha softly smiled, the hand on Julie’s head coming down to touch her forehead with a single finger. Divine power flowed from the cracks, down Lelytha’s arm, and finally into Julie. After that finished, she walked past the stupefied Julie and bestowed the same blessing upon Sammy.

“If you have the will, you shall live. It shan’t be pretty, but you shall live, clinging to life’s thread like a starved wolf or a mouse in the snake’s gullet. However, let your will slip for even a moment… and the thread will snap,” Lelytha said.

“It won’t,” Sammy said, her conviction clear to hear in her weak voice.

Lelytha softly smiled, the finger that had transferred the blessing now coming up, hand resting on Sammy’s head. “Be good to your wife. She loves you very much,” Lelytha whispered.

Sammy didn’t answer, instead said again, “Our souls….”

“You had the power of the gods coursing through you, did you not? There is no need to fret. You have tied your fates together so tightly that even Nouptié may not untangle them,” Lelytha said, then paused to laugh. “I dare think you two shall be together for many lifetimes.”

Sammy let out a long sigh, peace coming to her expression. Belatedly, she said, “I will cherish my wife very much.”

“Good girl,” Lelytha said, giving Sammy’s head one last pat.

The silence that followed had an air of finality to it, so Julie stepped forwards and carefully lifted up Sammy. Before they left, though, Sammy asked, “Will the wild beasts continue to cause issues?”

“Look for yourselves,” Lelytha said.

Julie turned around. At the cusp of the crater, the wild beasts waited, but what had been shadows darker than night were now truly walking shadows, barely there in the sunlight.

“They shall guide you and keep you safe if any danger comes,” Lelytha said.

“Our thanks,” Sammy said, her voice only coming out as a whisper.

Hearing that, Julie didn’t dare wait another second. Step by step, only looking forward, she climbed to the edge of the crater. After a moment to put Sammy on her back and pick up the pack of food, she continued on, step by step, the thin slit of vision given by the snowglasses staying on the ghostly shadows in front of them.

And as she walked, she realised the wind that should have been blowing against her back now stilled, the world calm. Calm but for the gentle breaths by her ear, spurring her on.

Step by step.

There was no light conversation, no discussing what they’d heard, their thoughts equally silent. There was no time, no past or future, only the present. There was no distance but to the place where her next step would go. There was no hunger or tiredness, only an ache, but she was numb to it, aching heart drowning out everything else.

There were gentle breaths by her ear, nothing else. If those stopped, then there would be nothing.

Hour after hour, Julie walked. When she couldn’t walk, she crawled. When she couldn’t crawl, she carefully lay Sammy down and then curled up. When she regained a little strength, she ate and drank and relieved herself, and she tried to help Sammy do the same.

“You need the food more than me,” Sammy mumbled, refusing the spoon.

“We live or die together, so eat, live long,” Julie whispered back, trying to keep her hand from trembling.

Sammy held out for a few more seconds, then obediently opened her mouth for the porridge. Julie smiled, thinking how good it was to be delicate, eating a spoonful enough to make her feel so happy. Even helping Sammy wipe after she relieved her bladder was enough to soothe Julie’s aching heart.

Both curled around the small pot, steam slowly leaking out the lid, they slept, hands entwined, peaceful for the first time in weeks.

When they set off again, Julie didn’t waste any energy, simply stared at where her foot would go, then stepped there, over and over, one, two, one, two.

Her legs ached. A princess weighed so little, but was still a person, and Julie was still a woman. She had been trained to carry a pack, her natural strength coming to settle there. Yet, how much had she carried on this journey? It was a miracle enough that she hadn’t stumbled or strained her muscles.

Her legs ached, lungs burned, stomach begged, and she carried on, step by step.

Step after step after step. And when she couldn’t walk, she crawled. When she couldn’t crawl, she curled up until she could walk again.

Time had no meaning to her, but, even uncounted, it kept track. Ten days passed like that. They had run out of food the last day, the only time Julie let Sammy not eat. It wasn’t simply a case of aching, now, but weakness. Julie felt her body revolt, gnawing at her muscles as the fasting continued. She already had been eating lightly the two days before, trying to make the food last longer.

There were no more steps, only crawling. Even if she rested, she couldn’t lift Sammy, couldn’t leave Sammy.

“We die together,” she said, the only words spoken in days.

She crawled, the weight of Sammy on her back trying to force her flat. She crawled, carrying the weight of her world. She crawled, until she couldn’t crawl.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, words lost to her scarf.

Sammy didn’t hear them. But, feeling that they had come to a stop, knowing what that meant, her hand fell down to the icy ground, then shuffled along, coming to touch Julie’s cheek. Even through the scarf, Julie felt the touch, warmth spreading from it. How warm it was, her body so cold.

So, so cold.

The gentle breath by her ear, as long as she heard that, she would live. When it stopped, she would die. That was all there was to it. Her life hadn’t been easy, had found purpose, now knew love.

Funnily enough, she remembered something Yewry had once said back in Dworfen: Some who die are more alive than the living. Sammy had explained it, something to do with honouring ancestors and living virtuously so your descendants can honour you.

However, in this moment, Julie understood it more intimately. Dying made her keenly feel the regret of no longer living. To never see her wife’s smile again, to never kiss her, never be with her.

It truly was a sin to love another woman, making death so painful.

At the same time, that gentle breathing by her ear, how peaceful it made death.

Julie closed her eyes with a soft smile on her lips, her only true regret that she couldn’t die with Sammy in her arms, but this would do.

A breath in, a breath out. A breath in, a breath out. A breath in, a breath—

“I see them!”

“Gods be praised!”

“Those divine animals must have been sent by Liliana!”

—out. A breath in, a breath out. A breath—

“I need a fire, now! We have to feed them rehydration solution and warm them up.”

—in, a breath out. A breath in—

“Oi, son of a goat! Keep them together or I’ll sew your arse shut!”

—a breath out—

“… a brick, her leg’s broken….”

—a breath in—

“Put them both on the bed.”

“Doctor, they’re—”

“Did I stutter? Follow my instructions or I’ll personally execute you for their deaths and the gods know how painful I can make it.”

—a breath out—

“This fever’s no good…. Schtat is too far, but Formadgo? We can take a ship to the west….”

—a breath in—

“Malnourished and exhausted, but that she isn’t already dead means she should live.”

—a breath out—

“There’s two horses at the stable, ask Zhdan for them. Ride to Schtat and hand this letter to the King.”

—a breath in—

“Yes, we’re taking both! If I have to answer this stupid question again, I’ll brand it onto your forehead.”

—a breath out—

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“You think I don’t know how god-damned much it rained? We’re leaving now, no debate.”

—a breath in—

“This is the hero and her companion! We’re taking this ship with or without you, but don’t expect to get it back if you don’t come. And we’re sailing all day and night, so bring as many sailors as you can. That’s an order.”

—a breath out—

“Julie? Julie? Ettu reveyai? Julie?”

—a breath in, and Julie’s brows furrowed. Something was beyond the aching darkness.

“Julie?”

Her body was jostled, ears scratched, even a light picked at her eyes through her eyelids. She wanted to return to the darkness, away from all the pain. The darkness with only her wife’s breaths. A breath in, a breath out.

“Julie, ah, pleaze? Pleaze, Julie. Sammy—”

Like a magic word, Julie startled. Her eyes shot open, ignoring the watering pain of the bright light, and her lips mouthed a word over and over, the sound stuck in her throat.

Tentatively, Dr Monnay said, “Sammy?”

The arm that hadn’t moved in a week started to scrabble madly, searching. Dr Monnay carefully guided it to Sammy’s hand. Sure enough, Julie held it, trembling, fighting the urge to squeeze, knowing how delicate her wife now was.

“Eat, bwua—ah, drinnk. Strong, be strong fuor Sammy,” Dr Monnay said.

Julie heard the words and her trembling stopped. She needed to be strong, stronger than before. As strong as Sammy had been before.

Every part of her ached, but it was nothing compared to the pain of her dying regrets. Nothing compared to her dying regrets. Through the deafening complaints of a half-dead body, she turned onto her side and saw her wife sleeping, deathly still. Careful, she leaned in and left a kiss on her wife’s forehead.

Strength leaving her, she collapsed back down, but still lay on her side, staring at her wife.

Dr Monnay swallowed the lump in her throat, eyes glistening.

Little by little, Julie recovered, eating anything and everything Dr Monnay put in front of her. However, she only left Sammy’s side to go to the toilet—or what counted as a toilet on a ship. That wasn’t to say she was idle, once able to move already working on her conditioning. And once her body was stable, she took over tending to Sammy. Everything from feeding her to changing her to massaging her muscles to reading to her.

“Two women cannot love each other? What nonsense,” Dr Monnay muttered to herself, closing the door. She’d seen parents care for children, children care for parents, siblings care for siblings, and, like now, she’d seen lovers care for lovers. An irreplaceable tenderness between a love found—chosen—not given.

Even if she’d often doubted the sincerity of her own feelings, she couldn’t doubt theirs.

While it wasn’t entirely smooth sailing, massive storms lingering, the ship really did move every hour but for stocking up on supplies and bringing in fresh sailors, the journey south taking a week, another day to cross over to the Formadgian sea, then a day and a half to reach the “southern capital” City Delsoud.

Julie knew nothing of that, focused on Sammy. However, upon their arrival, Dr Monnay was talking to the port master in Sonlettian.

“We have the hero and she is in desperate need of medical attention.”

The port master squinted his eyes, a trail of smoke from his pipe. “I’s not tha’ I don’ believe ye, bu’ the good doctors, I ain’ even know their stree’.”

Julie couldn’t follow their conversation, her little knowledge of Sonlettian already faded. What she could recognise was the towering spire.

“Formadgo?” she said.

Sensitive to Julie’s voice, Dr Monnay looked over and said, “Yes, Formadgo.”

It was obvious to Julie why they were there and even more obvious who could help them: “Lady Jeelyo.” She didn’t say more, nothing else useful she could say, but that name would be enough.

“Ay, Sinyora Jeelyo? Bevytori di Netarry?” the port master said in Formadgian.

Julie frowned, trying to remember. Sammy had mentioned something about the name, a nickname, and then it finally clicked in place. The surname was close to nectar, daughters given flower nicknames.

“Nectar, Jeelyo Nectar,” Julie said. “She knows us.”

Dr Monnay wasn’t slow. “May you bring us to the di Netarry household?” she asked the port master, again speaking Sonlettian.

“Go,” he said, waving them on, already turning to the staff around and switching to Formadgian. “Lead ’em t’ the di Netarry townhouse!”

Julie didn’t have to care any more, so she didn’t. There was only Sammy. The background changed, one moment the port, the next a carriage, then a room in a townhouse, but there was only Sammy in Julie’s eyes.

“Princess Julianne? The doctors are here, it is polite to give privacy,” Lady Jeelyo said in Schtish.

Julie didn’t respond at first, unused to being called that. Once she realised, she didn’t turn around, simply said, “I’m her wife.” Of course a wife could stay when her spouse was being treated.

Lady Jeelyo hesitated, the sentiment not so unfamiliar any more. Indeed, even without Julie saying such, Lady Jeelyo could see it in that determined gaze, both unfathomably strong and yet more brittle than glass.

“This Lady has made a mistake, forgive her. Please, be at ease,” Lady Jeelyo said, retreating at the end.

Not just doctors, but healers from the church came. However, the gods did not see fit to perform miracles this day, so it was left to the doctors to inspect the broken leg and prescribe treatment for the fever. Dr Monnay still took lead on administering medicine, Sammy’s request heavy on her conscience.

Likewise, Julie still tended to Sammy as much as possible, the other maids there for changing out water and taking clothes to wash and such, no one else laying a finger on her wife.

So a day became a week, only then Sammy’s fever dying down. Another long day later, she fluttered out of her coma, giving Julie a smile, then fell back asleep. If Dr Monnay didn’t know better, she would have thought Julie had merely dreamed it up, but, definitely, this pampering hero would wake up as early as possible to put her wife at ease.

Sure enough, Sammy came to the next day—and her first word was simply, “Kiss,” which Julie swiftly answered, uncaring of the maids and Lady Jeelyo present.

This was not the end of Sammy’s recovery, but the beginning. Just as Julie had lost weight and muscles, Sammy could barely move and, as Julie had already told Dr Monnay, losing the divine power left her body in an uncertain state.

However, Sammy wasn’t in immediate danger, so asked to travel to Schtat. It wasn’t that she wished to return home, but to hide in plain sight. Who could convince her otherwise? While her body decayed, her mind hadn’t dulled, and Julie would have given her the moons if asked.

Although the journey was not simple, it was comfortable. A different path, going between the mountains to Sonlettier, then down the rivers to the south, crossing into Schtat and trundling towards the capital. Dr Monnay accompanied them, observing Sammy’s condition, otherwise just basking in the wives’ affection.

In Hopschtat, Sammy sought out Mary’s cousin, Christopher. His hotel was as luxurious and private as when they last visited, a pleasant place to recuperate. And it was so for a month.

However, there was only so many times Christopher could hear his cousin’s worries for the Princess before confessing, and Mary was not quite so private.

On the second day of the tenth month, Messber, the spring festival was replaced by a celebration for the defeat of the fallen god. Dignitaries and foreign nobles filled the balconies of Hopschtat’s grand cathedral, many having followed the news from Formadgo and then later been invited by the Schtish King. Down below, the people of the city crammed in tightly, adults standing up while the children stood on the pews, all craning their necks to look at the hero.

A trumpet sounded, silence fell.

Such an occasion began with the King’s speech. He had a loud and clear voice, a touch of rumble to it, emphasised by the occasional pause. The speech itself carried on old traditions from the kings of old heroes, who often spoke of the coming dawn or spring now that the fallen god was once more sealed away. It was thick with praises for the gods, heavy with reminders of those lost, fat with support for those who kept the rest safe; that the guards and soldiers did so at the various kings behest went without saying.

Only at the end did the good King bring up his precious and only daughter, who gave up her position as Crown Princess to bring peace to the world. If Sammy didn’t know better, she would’ve thought he was there, so confident in his boasts of her heroics and deeds, even highlighting her injury as being sustained in the protection of her “companion”.

However, the wise King made one mistake.

“May we welcome Princess Samantha to the stage.”

Sammy smiled, sweet to those who did not know her, sinister to those who did. The King thought it sweet.

A broken leg didn’t heal quick, crutches under her arms to help her move. The heavy taps were lost amongst the cheers and clapping of the crowd at first, but the last ushered in another silence, deeper than that for the King. After all, this was the hero chosen by the gods, whereas the world had many kings who could be seen at many events.

The King did not wait for her to speak, asked, “This one’s daughter, our hero, what reward does one seek?”

Sammy did not hesitate, elegantly turning her head to the side, and beckoned Julie with a gentle smile. Julie did not hesitate. If she could stand proudly with Sammy before a god, she could stand before any king, any crowd.

There was more to it. Julie had spent the last months fairly idle, her figure and features soft, her hair grown out. Instead of her old uniforms, Sammy had dressed her in a simple dress, easy to move in and unlikely to be improper. It was not subtle in matching with Sammy’s dress, not by the dress itself, but by the choker and belt each wore, which matched the other’s dress in colour and style as if they had been swapped.

Indeed, they had.

Striking and conspicuous, the two stood beside each other, holding hands, completing the other’s outfit.

“Rather than a reward, I would take this opportunity to formally announce my bride to the world. This woman, Julianne, is my wife.”

Her words rang clear and true, no lesser than the King’s. Even those crammed in the grand doors at the very back of the hall heard her every word. Just that, many were sure they’d heard wrong, muttering to those beside them to check, only to be silenced a moment later.

Sammy kissed Julie, and Julie kissed Sammy back. A long, chaste kiss, unambiguous to those who could see the stage, and even afterwards did their foreheads rest together, eyelashes mingling, smiles lingering.

Of course, the King wasn’t exactly caught unaware. He had known what caused the Princess’s change of heart and had known of her unashamedly queer nature beforehand. Ever since the great storms flooded the country, before the news officially reached, he had been preparing what to say.

“This matter is not so simple, a country run on laws that even this one cannot break and bend at will—”

“You misunderstand. I am not asking for your blessing nor your permission, I am announcing Julianne as my wife. We are bonded and bound together for life, regardless of what church or country or even the gods say.”

The King narrowed his eyes, his presence changing in an instant as he took a step forward, only to find the woman in front of him as unmoved as the little girl had always been. “No daughter of mine shall speak such blasphemy!”

“We are in agreement, then. I relinquish my title as princess, renounce our ties of child and parent, and even deny the title of hero. If my name is to be recorded, let me be simply be Samatha, the wife of Julianne.”

The crowd breaking into ever louder murmurs, the King signalled the guards.

But Sammy was not one to go quietly. “However, if blasphemy is what you wish, allow me to enlighten. The fallen god is the wife of Liliana called Lelytha. Bairloum attempted to rape her and covered it up by calling her a seductress, so Liliana blamed her wife, condemning her unjustly. If I speak such lies in the house of the gods, won’t they smite me where I stand?”

Such stillness followed, even the guards with their eyes upturned as if waiting to see the flash of lightning—but none came.

“Many have died to Lelytha, that is undeniable, but she has been in isolation for millennia and suffered countless deaths and curses in penance. I ask each and every one of you to pray to her this evening, that even after all she has suffered, she is willing to listen to reason and show compassion. Never again shall we fear the wild beasts nor their corruption. So I ask, pray to her for the strength to live and the kindness to help others live. She has been alone so long, let us celebrate her as she deserves to be celebrated, both boldly and privately.”

No matter how long she spoke, how long the world waited, the divine punishment never came.

So, how could mortal punishment land? Despite being held under lock and key in Mary’s townhouse, come morning, there was no trace of Sammy and Julie left behind, no shortage of people who would harbour or aid them, no country or continent they couldn’t have fled towards.

Evil had been vanquished, the hero took the reward promised to her and left, never to be seen or heard from again.

The end.

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