The warmth of the fire was the warmth of revenge, and when the bodies were reduced to ashes, the blue and white clad members of the convent were quick to act and did so with no instruction when the last embers of fire had passed.
They began to gather up the ashes and place them into buckets. Fighter looked to the left and right where Swan Mother and Grandmother Swan stood, and cocked her head at each, unable to truly ask in the moment, they nonetheless heard her unspoken question.
“There is no mystery, child.” Grandmother Swan said softly and laid a withered hand on Fighter’s shoulder. “Goblins have one purpose beyond tormenting our sex and slaying our loved ones. Their ashes are good for the soil. You came bearing not just the seed of evil, but the very blessing that brings forth life to our soil. We kill the evil, purify it so it doesn’t taint the world, and then scatter its power to the land so that they are always beneath our feet where they belong. And from what they were…” Grandmother Swan gave a crooked smile.
Swan Mother picked up where the old woman left off, “Well if you’ve eaten any fruits or vegetables within fifty miles of here, chances are you have eaten something we have grown. From this we hire adventurers to hunt more goblins. And so we fight the goblin cycle, over and over again.”
Fighter didn’t answer right away, when she did, it was with a question. “B-Bathe… I’m… dirty, the goblins… they made me dirty everywhere… p-please… let me…” She pointed to the pools of water that dotted the area a stone’s throw away.
“Yes… of course…” Grandmother Swan took her hand, “Swan Mother, see to the ashes, and send the others to eat in the hall, I will take this one.”
Fighter quietly accepted the hand that went to her own while Swan Mother quickly gave gentle instructions to the others. Soon they were alone on the paradise, a little way distant, she heard a faint roar that she had missed before. She looked toward the noise, and seeing this, Grandmother Swan led her toward the nearest pool to explain.
“There is a waterfall in that mountain, the waters feed this place, they’re heated deep below, and the waters boil up. Nobody can quite reach the waterfall itself, the guardians within the mountain are far too dangerous, but we have ancient writings that spoke of its place from before the time of the mountain guardians. Now come…” She said, and unbound the crude cheap brown blanket that was serving as impromptu clothing, leaving Fighter’s body naked.
Grandmother Swan began to undo the buttons of her own dress, exposing her ancient frame in turn.
“Help me in, would you?” She said after planting her staff into the dirt by a few inches.
Fighter stepped over the stones that circled the bath and into the boiling hot water. She reached up and let Grandmother Swan slip into the waters. “Now… here my dear…” Grandmother Swan placed a hand over Fighter’s broken fingers. “Cure light wounds…” She whispered, and golden light lingered over the injury. The bones began to reset themselves, the ugly marks began to fade, and the power of the spell spread to the sore point on her head.
The pain faded, but Fighter felt only the longing to be clean again. She darted her hand out to take up the birch branch and began to scrub. She felt the water burning at her flesh as she sank into the waters and Grandmother Swan let go. The elderly woman was seemingly unfazed by the extreme temperatures, she only sat in the waters and spread her arms out over the stones that surrounded the space, and waited.
Fighter’s hands flew like mad, like in a sparring match with her father, she beat at her flesh with the rough branch and rubbed her skin violently with the rough leaves. She scrubbed and scrubbed until it hurt, and scrubbed more. “Got to get it off… Got to get them off me… smell them on me… I can still smell it… I don’t want to smell it… feel it…” She whimpered and rocked herself back and forth in the water, creating ripples that went back and forth, the hot water splashed up, burning at more of her flesh.
Her body reddened from the violence, and she scrubbed most at the place they’d touched, she didn’t care when bloody spots appeared and floated away from her flesh to stain the water. “Make their touch go away… filthy… they made it all filthy…” Fighter rambled and choked back sobs as her limbs trembled like they were cold despite the steaming waters.
“That’s enough child… that’s enough…” Grandmother Swan finally said as salty tears fell like rain into the water.
“No! I’m not clean… I just want to be… to get it all off, to get it all out…” Fighter kept rocking back and forth, but the trembling in her hands grew so great that she dropped the branch that served as a bath stick and it splashed lightly into the water, where it began to float away from her out of reach.
Grandmother Swan drew a little closer, and let Fighter’s body fold into hers as it continued to rock back and forth, until the adventurer could only fold her face into the bosom of the old woman and hold onto the fragile little woman for strength she no longer felt she had herself.
‘You can do it.’ She heard her father’s whisper, but ignored it.
“That was a good kick that you gave to the one on fire.” Grandmother Swan said quietly when Fighter’s noises became nothing but choked hiccups.
Fighter didn’t answer, she only nodded.
“That was a good kick that you gave to the one on fire.” Grandmother Swan repeated the gentle words that described the brutal event.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Fighter wiped her nose.
“That was a good kick that you gave to the one on fire.” Grandmother Swan repeated it again as if Fighter hadn’t heard it.
This time Fighter replied. “I-I always had g-good kicks. O-Or so I thought, t-till the Hob caught me. H-He flung me like a child, beat me to the wall and the floor of the cave like I-I was nothing.”
“It was still a good kick. You just had a bad roll of the dice…” Grandmother Swan replied and began stroking Fighter’s dark hair like she was petting an anxious cat.
“Th-Thank you. Smaller goblins… I could kill with one kick. One punch… but so many… if only I hadn’t…” Fighter’s mouth froze in the open position.
“Hadn’t what, child?” Grandmother Swan asked.
Fighter let the words slowly flow out of her mouth after a moment more. “Warrior… Warrior rushed ahead, he killed one, he cut off another’s hand, I knew he should have stayed back, the cave was narrower where we were… but I didn’t stop him. He ran in like a hero, then he lost his sword and they were on him. I…”
“You?” Grandmother Swan prompted.
“I froze, I hesitated again. I should have pulled him back, I should have called him back to me, I should have gone with him right away so he wouldn’t have had to fight so many… I didn’t do anything… anything till his hand was cut off and his scream hit me. He was… he was dead before I even reached him. Wizard was dying already, we split up, everything… we were ambushed, arrogant, they came from both sides. Then they m-made me their…” her eyes flashed with fury and fear, she stared at Grandmother Swan’s face before she went on.
“They made me their conquest, their plaything, they made me their toy, and all I could do was hold onto the severed hand of my dead Warrior… I never let go of his hand, I held it while they did… what they did. Even dead, he was something for me to hold onto.” Fighter could no longer speak, and buried herself in Grandmother Swan’s embrace again.
She reached for the branch from the embrace, only for Grandmother Swan to take it. “No, child. No.”
“But… but I want to…” Fighter stammered, only for Grandmother Swan to touch a finger to her lips.
“No, child. You will only hurt yourself now, the water is very hot, you’ll burn yourself if you stay in much longer, you have already scrubbed every bit of them away… there is nothing left of them on you, or in you, except for here.” Grandmother Swan reached up and laid a gentle palm on Fighter’s forehead, conforming it to her skull so that her fingers were over the soft dark hairs of the younger woman.
Fighter’s eyes welled up afresh, but nothing poured out. “What… what happens now, Grandmother Swan?”
“Next we get you proper clothing… and I show you where we serve food. If you want, we will bring it to your room still, but you should not be left alone. I have been here for a long time, and those who eat alone, are kept company only by their fears and nightmares, and sooner or later, we end up burying them. Their victory over the goblins is to end the nightmares with death… but we want you to defeat the goblins by living.” Grandmother Swan slowly stood up, and when she did, the many scars over the wrinkled flesh were now obvious.
Fighter looked at her with wonder that so many scars could be on one body, they crisscrossed her thighs, her belly, her arms and breasts. “You see them now… yes. I was with the goblins for one month. There were eight other women with me, or I am sure I would have died. I birthed twelve of the beasts, all the others with me, they perished in that hell. I was rescued when a powerful noble’s daughter was taken, and a great adventurer was hired to recover her. She lay chained beside me, and birthed only three before she succumbed to her injuries. The adventurer rescued me purely by chance. Nobody cared enough, or could have afforded if they did, to save me. That was fifty years ago…” Grandmother Swan shook her head and slowly, carefully stepped out of the pool.
Fighter followed her, the water splashed down from her body to create the sound of splashing and fervent ripples from disturbing the little pool. “I-I see.”
“No, you see only a fragment… which is better. There is hope for you, child. Do not lose sight of that. You blame yourself for Warrior’s death, do you?” She asked as she dressed, then held up the blanket to wrap Fighter up again.
Fighter held her arms up and allowed Grandmother Swan to work, and quickly the scratchy cheap fabric was tied in a knot beneath her armpit. She answered only with a mute nod and a head that hung in shame with a deep frown in place.
“Did you control his legs?” Grandmother Swan asked pointedly. “Did you plan the goblin ambush? Did you choose a weapon he could easily lose in the dark confines of a cave?”
Fighter shook her head rapidly in a tiny motion that bounced her dark hair around, flinging droplets of water from its still wet tips.
“He authored his own end, child. He was a young man, ready to take on the world, he just didn’t know the world would take him on too. It is sad… but as the Grim One says, 'It happens all the time.'” Grandmother Swan rested her hands on Fighter’s shoulders.
“Th-the Grim One?” Fighter asked, darting her blue eyes away from the steel of Grandmother Swan.
“You may have heard of him by his more common name, ‘Goblin Slayer’. I have only ever called him ‘Grim One’. He says little, but when he speaks, listen. He sends us many women. If you choose to stay… you may see him again.”
“I… never thanked him. He and Priestess carried me out of the cave, and I never thanked either of them… and I never apologized to her.” Fighter said in a tiny voice, still hanging her head until Grandmother Swan’s gnarled only fingers took her by the chin and brought her so that their eyes could lock again.
“If that is what you want, stay and I will make sure you get the chance… but for now, come with me, let me get you clothing, and show you more of your new residence.” Grandmother Swan replied, and Fighter nodded when the tight little grip on her chin was removed.
She followed the elderly woman whose sure footed walk, however slow, seemed curious to her, at once the woman seemed unfathomably gentle, but also filled with a bile like hatred that slipped out in a steely look and a smile that all but drooled over burning, screaming bodies.
However, Fighter could think of nothing else to say or do, and so she followed. The next two hours were a blur, she was taken to a room with long racks that held clothing, all of a like design, simple blue and white, and simple brown shoes, brown slippers, or simple brown boots for field work. Fitting her was easy, and Fighter sighed with a kind of relief not to feel ‘naked’ any longer, and the clothing did not have the same ‘itch’ of the cheap wool she had been using.
From there she saw the common mess, where dozens and dozens of women ate together, candles were scattered about the room, telling Fighter immediately that at night, the whole place would be cast in the same orange glow that filled a hall that would have otherwise been dark. Up above, there stood a great open ceiling of glass, and through it streamed the bright light of the day. The walls were painted white, and over those were painted various murals. A few of which were incomplete, and at which some young women of peasant stock were clearly working.
Across the room there was a long open bay area and behind it there were large pots over which several older women labored. “Those who stay here, take on various tasks.” Grandmother Swan explained. “Some cook, others clean, others work the fields, and a few tend the newcomers like yourself and the others.”
“Why me?” Fighter asked gently as she looked over the many quiet, downturned faces. Occasionally a woman froze, and those nearest to her would draw closer to try to comfort her. Sometimes it worked, sometimes they would be forced back and the woman would just bury her head in her hands and let the tears of sorrow pour out where she sat.
“What about you?” Grandmother Swan inquired calmly, taking Fighter’s hand and drawing her out of the large open room.
“I mean, if you have ‘others’ who take care of newcomers. Why do you and Swan Mother look closely after me?” Fighter asked, briefly closing her eyes to the horror the scene of so many young women eating together represented.
“Oh my dear… my sweet child…” Grandmother Swan said with a chill in her voice that froze Fighter’s blood as they left the room. “That answer will be obvious to you, when you think about it a bit. For now, just come with me, let me show you more of your new home.”
Fighter could only nod in mute acceptance as she tried to work out the curious answer, and followed where Grandmother Swan led her.