Ice and silence filled the next few days. It was, it should have been a simple answer for a simple question. But the look Urk gave her after she confirmed Uren to be her son was far from what she expected. Urk knew, they had to have known, she told them when they first asked what they were to her.
Was I honest?
Her memory failed her, she couldn’t recall her exact words. She imagined a snide reply, dismissing Urk with venom. Unable to shake the gut-wrenching pain on their face.
There was nothing else to do but make their little cottage into a home worthy of them both. She spent the initial days recovering, then she began clearing the mess the Guardians made. At first the idea of moving struck her, but the longer she remained, the quicker it faded. The Guardians were buried deep, though their power still tickled the soles of her feet every time she stepped out of the cottage.
The scar in the forest would remain for some time, but many of the felled trees possessed some life in them. It was easy to restore them to their former, towering glory. She wielder her wand alone, her dragon bone staff would only draw in more power than was necessary, which would risk their discovery from unsavoury types.
Trees too far gone, shattered beneath the enormous bones of the Guardians were either turned into seeds and planted again, or turned into furniture for the cottage. She tilled the earth around their new home, which was surprisingly fertile, and fenced off its borders. By the end of the second week since crash landing, there was comfort to enjoy.
At nightfall Urk returned with a second boar. Their hunt for the first had them return with a gash in their thigh and bruise, but now Urk wore the tusks of the first around their neck, with string made from its hair, dragging the fresh kill upon a litter of branches and leaves. Blood stained their umber flesh, none their own, and under torchlight she felt a trickle of fear as they approached.
There’s that strength again, interesting, She thought to herself.
“You cut hair?” Urk asked, now in the light, their chest rising and falling fast, though they did well to hide their fatigue.
Zara ran her fingers along the patchy stubble atop her now bald head. She had exerted herself, and her grey strands fell out, lopping them all off was her only choice. In the mirror she seemed both younger and older now, some of her fullness returned, though more wrinkles weathered her face. Age spots dared to appear, but her darker skin hid them well still. It seemed years rushed onto her, though she felt the same, and her aching limbs were manageable now.
“A fresh start, don’t you think?”
Urk grunted, then turned away and dragged the boar to the back around the cottage before she could get another word in. Any chatter from Urk was enough for now, their earlier silence ate at her heart. Her eyes focused on the path ahead, and the deep darkness Urk returned from. Another boar so soon, game was aplenty here, and if game was common, soon people would be common too. Urk made no mention of other faces, and she hoped it remained so.
There was a final step towards making this place truly safe, one she avoided, despite accepting this place was now a home. It was her last, minuscule hope of moving again that kept her from doing it, but the risk was growing. Turning this place into a Grove, not a true Coven’s Grove, but with all the protections and defences without sisters. The Guardians would have to be awakened for it, but at least the heart of the grove would be small, an altar they could hide beneath the cottage.
She listened to Urk grunt as they carved the boar for all its worth behind the cottage. A fire crackled within it, waiting for the meat, while her hand waved for the Unseen absently. It wouldn’t come, for it only existed within a Grove. Her knowledge remained there, her ingredients, spell books, diaries, the very power used to birth Urk and the other goblins, but also her past, the truth.
A task for the morning, it wasn’t a thought born from procrastination this time.
Zara supped with Urk in their cottage under candlelight, and for once she enjoyed the silence. The food was beyond nourishing, it filled with spicy taste and warmed her as a strong wind made their cottage groan. A hearth fire crackled and bath water bubbled, her eyes were heavy and her body content. It soon became the best night’s sleep in some time.
Come morning, she kept her promise, and when she told Urk, the goblin lifted somewhat. Their eyes sparkled and a flash of their fangs warmed her. Zara wielded her staff again, then enchanted her shark bone and Urk’s necklace, with four tusks now, too, before calling for the Guardians to protect their cottage.
It emptied her stomach, and returned her to a fatigued state that was not unlike her first awakening since they crashed into the forest. Yet, she felt a subtle tingle of protection all around. The presence of the Guardians below was stronger, almost thumping the soles of her feet every time she stepped on the ground.
Zara watched Urk disappear into the surrounding forest after it was done. She rose after recovering some of her strength, and returned to the cottage to ravish the leftovers from the night before. It put a stop the wooziness in her head, but made her eyes heavy. Her body stumbled its way to her bed while her mind was already falling asleep. By the time her head rested on the feather stuffed pillow, she was whisked away.
*
Pain, torturous and excruciating. Her body was set aflame, her flesh melted off her bones, the very same bones that were poked and prodded with scorching steel. She was flayed and whipped, her tears stung her open wounds, but they never flowed for long. Horses ripped her limbs apart, swords and knives sliced through her like a butcher working on livestock. Gunpowder was sparked to life after she was buried under it, and there was even strangulation. Nails digging through flesh and rough rope, wishing to loosen the ever-tightening constricting grip, to no avail.
Then the screams filled her.
Agonised pleading, a collection of screeches to accompany the endless and torturous pain. Death was on the brink, but never arriving, never allowing relief to the many lives she suffered.
Zara floated in nothing, feeling everything. Worst of all she recognised each and every scream, every cry for mercy, even the rare curse of defiance. Olga, Lana, Yudra, Hellena, her mind haunted her, her ears suffered them relentlessly, and her heart was failing. There was no comfort for her here in this hell. It all caught up to her.
“Grandmother!”
*
Zara was yanked awake by Urk, weeping and sobbing uncontrollably even as the goblin stared down at her with utter fear.
“I’m sorry,” it was all she could manage.
“Man coming!”
Urk carried her staff and presented it after stepping back, their chest rushing in panic. Eyes wide and arms insistent. She wiped herself dry and snatched the staff.
Zara was chaos as she scrambled around the cottage, hoping to remove any hint that might indict her and have her strapped to a pyre. Every spell she attempted to cast fizzled as her heart ached, haunted by every death she bloodied her hands with. The grove was determined to remind her of what she sacrificed for freedom.
Urk was rushing away to their room, scrambling as much as she did, but they didn’t return.
“What are you doing?” She asked.
“Hiding.”
“No, we must portray normalcy, tilling soil, carving meat, come.”
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“But I am not… normal.”
“To his eyes you will be,” she nodded at the boar tusk necklace she enchanted. Then regret filled her, Urk’s face twitched and she caught a hint of disdain, before they nodded and rushed outside with her.
Urk tanned the leather of the last boar they found and she prepared more soil for planting, while listening to the stranger grunt his way towards their little cottage. She heard him remark, under his breath, about the strange formality of the low fence ringing around their borders. So far there was nothing to be concerned about.
“Ho!” The man announced.
Zara spun around with a put-on expression of surprise, though Urk was awfully tight when doing the same.
“Forgive me, I was tracking a few wild hares and followed a new trail to this,” a pockmarked man, with sun taut umber skin, smiled with wandering eyes. “I’ve never been this deep into the forest, didn’t think anyone called this place home.”
“The quiet has always been a comfort, what better place than this?” Zara smiled, eyeing his cloak of bark and leaves. A hunting bow was hanging from his shoulder, a full quiver on the other.
She leant her staff against the wall and wiped her sweat hands on the front of her apron before stepping closer to the stranger, whose eyes were now fixed on Urk.
“Your son?”
Zara glanced back at Urk, who returned to tanning the leather.
“What can we help you with?”
“Ah, forgive me, nothing, I’ve allowed my curiosity too much, I shan’t impose any longer.”
“It’s no trouble really, I welcome guests, it gladdens me to know there are others close by,” she smiled. “Perhaps we might trade, should you require anything?”
“We might,” he nodded then turned and jogged away.
Zara watched him depart, unmoving until she felt him cross the grove’s borders.
“I follow, yes?” Urk appeared beside her, staring where she did.
“Don’t be seen, and keep your necklace on.”
“Yes, Matriarch,” Urk grumbled before sprinting off in the hunter’s wake.
Matriarch, that stung her, and soon the haunting death cries returned to her.
It was an agonising wait, and relief only struck her once she felt Urk’s return. Darkness had fallen and another boar was dragged behind them in a new litter. Root’s End, Urk said, with the same coldness that stung her when they called her Matriarch. Another pair of boar tusks were added to their necklace, as they described the small town they learned of. Of stone and wood, with clay stone roads, few guards and a river running through it.
She poked for anything that would resemble a temple, but Urk saw nothing to match what she described. Another relief, which meant willing visitors would soon follow in the hunter’s trail.
Zara delved into the Unseen to retrieve her ingredients and began planting seeds during the following days. Urk took to teaching themselves with the numerous tomes and books she kept within as well, when they weren’t hunting and adding to their tusk necklace.
Days became weeks, and she almost forgot about Root’s End, until a woman with a coughing little girl arrived. Hollow eyed and fearful, begging for a cure. Thankfully it was a simple fix, ground mellow seeds with a dash of peppercorns in boiled wine. A common chill took her daughter, deadly when it needn’t be. Thankfully the mother didn’t think to question where the wine came from.
Urk became a recluse while she tended to more of the townsfolk, who were coming almost daily since the first woman and her coughing daughter. Rarely did they come to help, and when they did, it was always with a grumble. The townsfolk paid little mind to Urk; the friendlier types attempted to spark conversation with them. Her ‘son’, but they all soon learned Urk wasn’t open to it.
A pen and a makeshift barn had been added to their little cottage when a few of the townsfolk offered livestock as payment. Sheep and goats, chickens and a pair of cows, more work, but now she had a natural source for some ingredients, which was always a plus despite the added workload. There was only so much magically made ingredients could achieve before their effects wore off. Thankfully, her gardens were bustling with blooming plants, a bountiful variety that could be sold by the bushel if any of the townsfolk possessed the coin. Many did, though she had little use for it at the moment.
Zara lounged beside the hearth in a cushioned chair with a pipe in her mouth and a book of her inventory in hand. A beautiful sunset coloured the interior of the cottage with wondrous fire, while the chill of night made an early introduction.
“What am I to you?”
She jumped and looked up at Urk standing before her. Their tusk necklace completed, all around their neck. It was still a surprising thing to hear their fluent speech despite it having happened weeks ago.
“What do you mean?”
“Me, my existence, is it just to serve you?”
Urk’s coldness hadn’t ceased, though they had softened towards the townsfolk, and they spoke more often to her, but this was unexpected.
“Urk, my love, what’s wrong,”
“Don’t!” Urk slammed the massive tome they carried on the table. Hairline cracks sprouted on all its legs. “It was one thing to suffer the deaths of my brethren and your sisters all over again when the Grove was made. I shared in your guilt, but to now discover that I was made, and stifled, all to serve you, I have had enough!”
“Urk, what are you talking about?”
“I know how you made me, how we were made, I’m privy to a few of your own feelings! Do not play the fool with me, why did you hold me back?”
“I did no such thing! You’re mine, of my flesh and bone and blood, I would never do that to you.”
“I’m not yours!”
Why is this happening now? Zara was fighting back tears. She didn’t know where the accusation came from, and didn’t like how familiar this confrontation was.
“I had no say in abandoning my brethren, in letting your sisters die, I have no say in anything, I had no say in being born!”
“Urk please, I don’t… don’t do this,”
“I’m meant to be your son, that’s what that man said, that’s all I am? A malformed thing to fill the void of your loss. Whether your stifling was intentional or not I don’t care, I will have you explain why you did this.”
She wept, searching for the words on her feet. Her pipe clattered to the floor with her book. Echoes of agony returned to her mind, the pain, the screams.
“Uren… Urk, you are not my son, I swear. You were the grandchild who was… we all had our reasons for the Last Sacrament, I just wanted… all of us had lost family, I thought I could give us all comfort,”
Urk scoffed, fighting back their own tears, for their enormous eyes glistened.
“I knew something was done to me the moment we left that place, my strength improved, my mind opened. Perhaps you didn’t mean for it, perhaps you didn’t truly understand what you created. Your hold on me has ended, that’s what matters now.”
“Uren please,” Zara edged closer, but Urk stepped back, face twisted in disgust. “Please not again. I didn’t… I need you!”
“Look upon me and see what monstrosity your need created, a goblin,” Urk spat. “What about what I need?”
“I’ll fix it, please just stay, I’ll fix it please.”
“So much death, I still hear them all, and for what?” Urk avoided her last attempt to reach out, almost slapping her hand away. “You are a witch through and through.”
“Urk please!”
The death cries were loud now, planting her on her knees as she watched Urk gather their things and stomp out of the cottage. She couldn’t move, her body ached, her mind was relentlessly bombarded with death and screams and pain. There was even distant laughter, mocking, like a knife slicing her heart without care.
Zara was alone again.