They watched him join war after war, sometimes on the winning side and joining in the spoils and plunder, sometimes on the losing and fleeing for his life. They saw him at the battle of Sinnlos, where the Seiger Geisteskranken cracked and brought down the city walls. He lost his fingers there, the wedding ring spinning away to be trampled into the mud. Once again they watched as Bedeckt fled. He abandoned his friends, the men he fought alongside, spent evenings drinking and whoring with.
“I am the Greatest Swordsman in the World,” said Wichtig, staring at the gap left by his own missing fingers.
“You’re not here,” said Bedeckt. He looked through the fire at Zukunft. “You either. I’m dreaming.”
“You’re not,” said Zukunft. “I’m here.”
“No.”
“Always running,” repeated Stehlen.
“Not running from you.”
“Who are you lying to?” demanded the Kleptic. “Her?” She glared venom at Zukunft. “Or yourself.”
“I’m going to stop Morgen.”
“If you were really going to stop the little shite you’d have done it while you were still dead and had a hold on him. The Warrior’s Credo bound him to you. You ran away.”
Why didn’t he stop Morgen in the Afterdeath? He couldn’t remember. The list? Bedeckt struggled to explain. “I’m going to undo the damage I did.”
Stehlen snorted, a damp nasal honk. “He’ll fight and kill for the tiniest gain,” she said, “but he’s a coward.”
“Better a living coward than a dead hero,” snapped Bedeckt, struggling for composure.
“Then why didn’t you abandon my sister?” asked Vergangene from the mirror.
“Leave him alone,” said Zukunft, eyes pleading.
“None of this is real,” said Bedeckt. “These are fever dreams. I’m dying and the fever is breaking my mind. I’m still sane.”
“I’m still sane,” whined Stehlen. “Sane people die all manner of terrible deaths and not once do they manifest delusions.”
“I’m sane.”
“Tell her why you didn’t abandon her,” demanded Stehlen, nodding at Zukunft. “You love her, don’t you? Dirty old pig. You want to rut that perfect pale flesh, despoil it with your filth.”
Bedeckt remembered every glimpse he caught of thigh, every curve of breast. He remembered the way her shirt and skirt clung to her when wet. He hallucinated those moments over and over for all to watch.
“I never…” He couldn’t finish the thought. What, he never wanted to rut her? He thought about it all the time. She was young, beautiful. But that wasn’t it. He never acted on it, not once taken the thought seriously. He’d never touch her, never corrupt her. “I wouldn’t.”
Zukunft hid in her blanket, eyes wide as she witnessed his hallucinations, seeing herself as he saw her.
“That’s not me. I’m not pure like that.”
“I never—”
“You never dared,” said Stehlen, glaring hate and longing at the girl. “Coward.” She hawked snot and Bedeckt saw the Kleptic fought tears. “I loved you and you abandoned me. You never once said—” she choked to silence.
Bedeckt remembered that night in Neidrig, hallucinated that drunken scene for all to witness. They watched Bedeckt and Stehlen rut in a filthy alley. They heard Stehlen whispering, ‘I love you,’ over and over into his ruined ear as she straddled him, grinding herself to a screaming orgasm.
All watched except Stehlen. She pulled her legs in tight, hugged them against her chest and cried great tearing sobs, unashamed and uncaring. Bedeckt’s heart broke and tears ran from eyes that had seen too much pain to ever cry again.
“I’m sorry,” said Bedeckt.
Stehlen sobbed, forehead pressed against her legs.
“I am the Greatest Swordsman in the World,” said Wichtig.
“Why her?” asked Zukunft from within her blanket, watching Stehlen. “What’s wrong with me? Why won’t you touch me?”
“I can’t,” said Bedeckt, looking for the words, wanting to go to Stehlen and hold her and knowing if he did she’d stick a knife in his guts. She’s not here. This isn’t real. You’d be comforting a hallucination. But it felt all too real and not going to her burned like cowardice.
Cowardice isn’t on the list.
“Touch me,” said Zukunft. “Show me I’m worth something. Show me I’m desirable. Show me you aren’t disgusted by me. Show me my crimes are forgivable.”
“I can’t.” This isn’t real. This isn’t real. She’s not here. I’m dreaming. “I’m sane.”
“And I’m insane,” said Zukunft. “I disgust you.” She shrugged within her blanket. “I killed my baby sister. I deserve your loathing. My Afterdeath will be a hell of punishment.”
Bedeckt reeled, drowning in himself. Stehlen’s quiet sobbing tore at his heart and Wichtig mumbled to himself about mountains and old men and killing gods.
“You’re insane,” Bedeckt agreed, before realizing how that might sound. “Your sister is a manifestation of your guilt.”
“No, she’s real. She’s trapped in the mirror and it’s my fault.” Zukunft’s eyes glinted from the folds of her blanket. “She showed me you dying. Your friends are going to die too. You don’t stop Morgen. You don’t undo whatever damage you did.”
Is that true? Was all this for nothing? “She’s a Reflection,” said Bedeckt. “The mirror ever lies.”
“You keep saying that,” said Zukunft, “but you’re not a Mirrorist. You don’t know.”
They sat in silence, the crackle pop of the fire the only noise. Stehlen and Wichtig were gone.