The Damsel Blade

Balin sat over the kitchen table or rather the large sheet of plywood screwed on to two up turned bins. There was a vague memory that this was the upgrade, they'd originally only had the one bin and no plywood. In fact maybe they just had a spare bin. He was sitting in a student digs, evidenced by how it managed that mix of permanently draughty and somehow musty and damp that is only available to blisteringly poor and students. In fact he was becoming increasingly certain it was his uni flat, from his second year specifically, which if anything only made it more worrying that yesterday he remembered being in his 50s. That and he remembered dying while doing his best to kick the apocalypse's teeth in.

A few minutes ago he'd opened his eyes sitting in this kitchen, he was clearly in the body that should be here, it lacked the scars that even his healing factor had struggled with, his face looked embarrassingly fresh and his muscles had the sculpted look which the young can access easier than the old. The reason he was staring into the middle distance eye's unfocused, was the cell phone in his hand next to him, it was a Nokia 3310. He remembered this phone, it was outdated even when he went to Uni but always reliable even after he took a beating in a fight so he'd kept it. It had some texts, some numbers in and the ability to play Snake. What was blowing his mind was the date. It was October same as it had been yesterday, the days were a bit out, nothing, a stint in a regenerating from some mortal wound couldn't explain, the main issue was it was minus around thirty years.

He quietly counted down from ten again, he couldn't quite get himself to do anything when he reached zero, apart from restart. He thought back to yesterday, or the future or... no that way madness lies. He thought back to yesterday. He was fighting the Grey, shadows of undeveloped futures that tore at reality. Their target was the last of humanity being piled through portals held open by mages while the empowered fought them off. He stood back to back with Gwen. Her magic blasting through them and they held back the onslaught, hoping that enough would get away, that the portals would close. Then they did and he threw aside his blade and held her as they... '

A wave of emotion knocked him from the chair, and landed him on the stained linoleum floor still sticky from spilled drinks from the last house party. He felt anguish confusion and a deep fear. A yawning chasm absent of confidence. He looked at the date on the phone again but he knew it in his twenty year old mind that this wasn't a lie. Today was important. It was Gwen's 20th birthday. While his memories seemed intact he couldn't really picture this day, despite it feeling like it should be momentous. He had to go give her a present, an important present. Before that though he should probably go to get training before Jay yelled at him, no Jay was away. He then had to see Lana. Dredging up those names was like opening a long abandoned crypt, even as he hurriedly shut it the smell and sight of the vileness within lingered. His body and mind fought, 50 years of memories trying to fit into 20 years of brain.

Sensing it's que the phone chirped at him. He couldn't remember how to navigate it, but his body knew, it sent his fingers dancing across the keys. It was an alert to get to bed as he had to be up soon. Looking through texts he deliberately ignored Lana's note saying she hoped he got home okay from work and saw the most recent other option was from Jay yesterday. 'SQUIRE TRAINING NOW! DO NOT MISS IT. I WILL KNOW. JAY' it was the only text he'd sent while he was away on business. He could feel his brain try to stand up and get him to bed so he could be off to the training hall in a bit. It was 2 in the morning and he'd have to be up relatively soon, but he fought it down. He didn't have to do anything for that liar. The text well reflected the man who sent it, loud, blunt and threatening. 20 year old Balin had a healthy respect for the man which was only different to terror because he'd otherwise have the courage to run away. Old Balin didn't really want to reexamine the balance between mentor and tormentor but was at least smart enough to know which leg to kick to get the headstart needed to escape the old bastard.

The door to the kitchen opened and a wave of weed and optimistic but ultimately useless incense announced the arrival of his housemate, Scugs. The incense was connected to the vague hope of getting the deposit back on this place, ignoring that the knife marks in the wall that were more likely the sticking point, at least they'd got the blood out. Balin remembered all this as he looked up at Scugs, last he'd seen him he'd been an ageing hippy with a weed empire and a key weapon for a group of near militant environmentalists. Right now he was the man who he found regularly passed out on the couch. He only realised he was still on floor when Scugs as he tripped over his outstretched feet. The man collapsed onto the ground beside him.

"Hey man, sorry about that. What are you doing on the floor man?" said Scugs oozing his normal calm, unaware or uncaring, of his transition from vertical to horizontal.

There were many reasons that someone with Balin's special background could find himself 'believing' he was in the past. They ranged from dark matter powered splinter reality machines to dreams woven by ethereal spiders, he'd even spent time in at least two fake realities living out alternate lives. However he was utterly confident that no mystical mage or tech wizard could possibly have rendered Scugs in such detail. While his Mediterranean housemate was at first look a scrawny shorter man, that was were commonalities with other large members of the human race ended. The full Scugs experience was something that the mind purged out of self preservation, from the questionable green flecks between his toes that was either long lost weed or a worrying foot condition, to the coffee coloured hair that was pressed flat on one side but curly on the other no one aspect of him fit into a box that could be labelled normal. Some if now stuck to the floor.

"Morning Scugs, I'm doing an exercise thing." His voice sounded both perfectly normal and also utterly fake. It was like hearing a young actor doing a poor imitation of an older one. He got up. Scugs was still looking at the ground, his brain unable to handle any speed beyond peak chill. Knowing it was likely a longshot he asked a question as he propped up his friend. "You didn't notice anything weird happening just now?"

"Well you were on the floor, then I was. Before that no, you made me a hot choc when you came in from work, it was chill." said Scugs, his body dragging itself to the otherside of the kitchen, opened a cupboard door and clearly on autopilot caught a bag of crisps that fell out. "See you later man." He half left the room before popping his head back in. "Hey also Jay said I had to tell him if you didn't go to train. I'm not doing that though dude's a prick. So have a lie in and see Gwen for her birthday." With that Scugs left, the smell of weed remained, having completed it's complete domination of the pathetic tones of incense. Well there was no other explanation for it he had to be in the past. He checked the date and felt cogs begin to turn.

Upstairs his room had that tidiness that comes from military training; everything had its place and its purpose. Not that he'd been in the military but with Jay he lived like he did. As thoughts bubbled up he pushed them right down. Even if young brain hadn't been feeding him tips he was certain he'd know where everything in the room was, so ingrained into his soul the routine had become. He pulled out the duffel bag that had his training gear in and fought down the surging panic and confusion. He was in the past, currently in London and soon if he remembered correctly his life was going to get very complicated. Living in a ten mile radius was some of the cast of his later years, allies, enemies, and those who flitted between the two. On the outside chance that an enemy had woken up in the same situation as him he needed to get his hands on something. There it was.

From the bottom of the bag he pulled out a wooden box, simple, neat and well polished; it could be mistaken for housing some pool cues. He yanked open the clasps and sighed with relief. The Damsel Blade sat in its place, the sheathed sword surrounded by crisp green felt. He'd tried to summon it earlier but couldn't, the magic just wouldn't work, but that had made sense, young him hadn't been able to summon it either. Old him could do it in a second. He went to grasp it carefully, Damsel might think he felt different. The mix of old and new could anger it, so as he went to pick it up he approached it as one might a venomous snake. Damsel seemed docile enough to be handled and he felt it's magic and power surge up his arm as he gripped the hilt. Memories of all the other times he'd wielded it surged to the front of his mind as the wielder of Damsel he was a Knight, a literal reincarnated legendary hero, memories of leading teams flicked through his mind's eye. They'd been the force who'd shepherded in the new age as chaotic forces returned and empowered science and magic to do far more than they previously could.

All that was distant though. Right now that he was in a lull, where no matter if this was his past or future, it wasn't like his present had been. The Arcane was still slumbering but soon it'd be the beginning of this new age as the power of the Arcane surged onto the global scene. Right now he wasn't a Knight, this body he wore was at most some kid with a destiny whose experience with fights outside of training was almost exclusive to moonlighting as a bouncer. He felt calmer with the blade in hand but still it felt different, the young and old unable to align. He put the blade on top of all the gear in his bag, ready to go if needed. He turned around to look at the night stand and felt his stomach drop as on it sat a small gift box with a key placed on top it, and beside it a shiny silver coin. A future of heroes, and villains and those who flitted between stared at him.

.......................................

Gwen managed to fight through the hangover to reach the level of anger needed to throw her brain into neutral, an essential step so the motor could warm up before she started to explore higher gears. The voice of Thera had been a constant nuisance, trying to nudge her to wakefulness. She lay face down in bed trying to smother the smell of weed, spilt booze and old books. Her hand reached out to dismiss the spectral voice but stopped pausing in the air. Thera, that didn't make sense. She'd literally just sealed her away, forever. But she was in her bed and hearing Thera, was that a dream? She tried to ignore the hangover that was chasing away some important thoughts. She remembered the drinking and smoking that preceded the hangover fairly clearly. She'd been doing a lot of pining and generally feeling sorry for herself. She had two plans for how today could go, and still wished she could explore both having decided on neither.

Fuck it was her birthday which explained the drinking and peak Balin angst. Thera's icey tone kicked in, the magic blew a cold wind over her to wake her, the sheet was knocked off. No matter, she sent her tail to go drag it back over her and tried to get comfy again. Dammit she was saying something and wouldn't stop. She was about to lash out, whatever nonsense this was could wait a few hours but as the words formed on her lips to tell Thera to fuck off an up until that second unheard part of her brain threw the mental gears into reverse and demanded to know which birthday she thought she was celebrating and who the fuck had taken all her clothes. The cursing started shortly after.

...................................................

Balin stood out in the cold October air and did the maths on if it was polite to knock again. It had taken about 30 mins to grab a Night Bus and jog over to Gwen's house. He'd normally take a different route but had found himself unusually wary on the journey, some tickle at the back of his mind pushing him to look into shadows and take odd paths. There were people who could in theory arrive and attack at a moment's notice if they'd woken with the same memories. No matter how insane yesterday was, today was painfully mundane. He was wandering around in basic workout gear, when yesterday he'd been clapped in armour. Now shifting from foot to foot in the cold, he felt exposed on the street, especially as he looked up at the swanky homes around him; she'd inherited the house from her mentor Bellamy who'd passed away a couple of years ago. The house was on a nice street near Kensington but was a poor fit for the area, squashed between some lovely houses and one of those pits that allowed access to the tube lines, fronted with a fake house. Gwen's house clung like a parasite to the fat and wealthy house next door, looking almost like servants' entrance. He cracked and tried the spare key; this felt like it counted as an emergency.

Stepping into the hall he expected a flood of memories, but they didn't come. He never spent too long at the house and within a month's time he'd never step through the door again. He called up the stairs for Gwen. It was very warm and accustomed to the cold he had to slide off his hoodie. He kicked off his boots, now suitably paused he had to admit he was stalling. He moved up the stairs carefully, now as he was in this space that he wondered if this was the right thing. The space around him was dusty and aged, it was practically unchanged from when Bellamy, the magical practitioner who'd raised her, had died about two years back. It was clear by the kitsch furniture and sagging sofa visible in the front room that she hadn't really cleared his memory from the space.

Climbing the stairs seemed to take longer than he expected, he was sure he should've been at the top. He was probably just tired, still he pushed on, he knew her bedroom was at the top on the left and every step closer he felt more worried. Two options sat behind the door, one was his best friend on her twentieth birthday who was about to have to deal with a time traveller. The other option was one of the most powerful magical practitioners in the world who had volleyed between friend, rival, and love interest with a frequency that would make a soap opera writer proud.

Then the yelling started. He was a knight and instincts were built into him. Bounding forward, he smashed into the door which seemed to give a momentary resistance, like an air break was engaged. Damsel leapt into his hand smoothly, no worries about young and old. With it present the door gave in. Smashing into the room, he scanned for threats, or at least tried to. Instead a pillow hit him in the face.

"What the fuck Balin? What is going on?" As he recovered from the blow he saw standing on the bed utterly naked was Gwen.

"I err- I err." said present Balin, Old and Young Balin were no help utterly frozen, neither being prepared for this. An argument at the speed of thought bounced through his brain as eyes bounced between open and shut. They ended up with a compromise with one eye shut and the other set a squint.There were tattoos, there were piercings, there were breasts.

"Why am I in this body, why am I naked? Why are you in my house?" His brain shut down and the Young body took over, it let the Damsel Blade slip from his fingers. Running on chivalry that had sunk bone deep it sought to end the nudity before it by providing clothes. However without the brain engaged this resulted in him yanking off his t-shirt and flinging at the enraged witch.

Her being 5,2 and him being well over a foot taller it enveloped her, momentarily shorting out the war raging in his brain and letting him focus up. He shut his eyes "I'm sorry you were screaming, I don't know I literally woke up sitting in my old kitchen from uni. Yesterday I remember both of us fighting the Grey and yesterday I also see as us doing some study and later I did a shift at the bar. I'm really confused."

Gwen settled a bit and held the t-shirt to herself rather than put it on, her breathing started to calm and she focused her full attention on him. "First I was cursing, I do not scream. Second and do not fuck me around are you actually telling me we are in the past."

"Seems that way,"

"And it's my birthday" the thought distracted her, even with his eyes closed he could hear her breathing slow.

"Er.. Yeah. Happy Birthday" a nervous laugh chased out the last words, like a sad party blower he risked a look and a pensive stare met him.

"You're sure, like it's the past outside and everything. Thera?" She sat down on the bed, crossing her legs around his shirt so he didn't catch the last word. They were particularly fine and long legs, with creamy smooth skin, one thigh had an ornate pentagram tattooed onto it. Slender but toned, he remembered she used to do swimming to work out. "Balin?" he shook himself and realised he'd been staring and started to blush, shutting his eyes again for good measure. He did manage to catch a smile on her face before they closed.

"I'm sure, see I met Scugs, and the outside is 2005 as far as anyone else is concerned." He tried to gather his wits. Old Balin was far more confident alone with a nude woman, or even multiple nude women. He'd functionally been a superhero, being always on call and frequently disappearing into splinter dimensions or time loops had rather chucked traditional relationships out the window. Whatever confidence he'd cobbled together crumbled before the fact that this was Gwen. Young or Old she held a special place in his heart. He squeezed his eyes closed as they tried to open again, aware now that he'd come straight from work and would normally be asleep, his body was confused, happy but confused and he tried to discipline it back into line. He breathed in and out as he'd learnt in meditation, or would learn. It helped a bit and then he got a whiff of her scent and he was back to square one. He sought to steady himself enough to add to the conversation when a warm hand touched him in the centre of his bare chest. His brain did a flip.

"So this is real, I can't imagine anyone faking Scugs. And you're actually here," another hand rose up to under his chin and guided his attention forward, inviting him to look. Before him standing eye to eye with him was Gwen. She stood calm in her nude glory, t-shirt trampled beneath her feet

Gwen had gentle eyes, they were green flecked with brown in places, her cheeks were full but tapered to a sharp chin. This framed a slender nose above two full lips, all of which was surrounded by a mess of hair, that changed so often he couldn't remember it's original colour but was now pink which clashed with the gothic black tattoos on her pale skin. From in her hair two stubby black horns rose, complimenting the goth undertones. And while she may be the single most beautiful soul he'd ever come across, the true ecstatic lightning came when she smiled. The lips revealed it to him, showing that gentle, always slightly crooked smile as her eyes finished their own inventory of him, before they filled with tears. "You're actually here on my birthday." and she launched herself at him laughing with joy. As her warmth pressed up against him all he could do was laugh along as the joy overtook body and mind.

.............................................

"Where the fuck is he I'm freezing my balls of out here." The first voice echoed round the dark brick box. The only light coming from the wash of orange that is inescapable in any city worthy of the title. It peeked in through the gaps allowed by the partially open garage door.