The Problem With Goblins

Overall, Bryce had stolen tricker things. The hydra egg, that was tricky. Damn thing nearly ripped him in two. The Jewels of Alencia, those were difficult. Mostly because Alencia was still wearing them and no one told his crew that she was a vampire queen. And the less he thought about that keg of ale, the better. His leg still wasn’t at one hundred percent.

So yes, Bryce had stolen tricker things. However, those had been organised, well planned infiltrations. Most of his victims didn’t know he was there until he had already pocketed his prize. The key point though was that in most of those jobs, aside from the bloody keg, Grace wasn’t with him.

Grace’s name was a lesson in rejecting fate. The woman was huge, and could lift the rest of the squad over her head at once. Her armour was scuffed and dented from her numerous adventures to the floor, or a doorframe, or a pillar.

One time, though no one will believe him, Bryce saw Grace eat a rock that she had mistaken for bread.

They had infiltrated a fancy gala once and Grace was chosen for Bryce’s partner in the dance.

Eight people died. Seriously, eight! Bryce only killed one!

The Guild had nearly demoted them to bronze for that. Perish the thought - he couldn’t go back to killing slightly bigger-than-average rats in slightly smaller-than-average sewers.

So, it was with great care that he explained thoroughly, repeatedly, to Grace that she was to stay in the woods.

The big bruiser looked sadly at her ridiculous two handed sword - though it was so large it was closer to just a big, thick, metal bar. “Do I not get to swing Daisy today?”

Bryce ignored Hickory’s laugh, “I mean, if things go wrong but this is a stealth mission, Grace. Stealth. You are not stealthy.” She scrunched up her face, putting great effort into thinking of a counter example. As she opened her mouth, Bryce cut her off, “The jail break doesn't count. No survivors doesn’t mean you weren’t seen.”

Grace slumped to the forest floor, lip stuck out in a pout, but she relented.

Mission saved, Bryce turned to the rest of his team.

Four of the most mediocre members of the Guild sat arrayed before him. Hickory was still smiling, the sharpshooter always found Grace amusing. Next to her, their fixer Mabs was trying to coax a squirrel to eat the slightly glowing chestnut in her palm. Always good when someone is focused on the mission. Finally, the twins, Dale and Kyne. Bryce was always disappointed that they didn’t have some cool twin name like ‘double and trouble’ or ‘bow and arrow’ or something.

He sighed, knowing how this typically goes, “So I’m going in. I’ll grab the scrolls, and duck out. You all take perimeter positions, and just make sure I’m not followed. It’s nice and easy, no need to complicate things.”

He waited. No one spoke and for a second, Bryce believed he had gotten away with it. Then, Hickory raised her hand.

“It’s not a classroom, Hickory.” But Bryce pointed at her anyway.

She smiled, “When do we burn all the tents down?”

“Never, next question. Mabs? Again, no need to raise hands.”

Mabs put her hand down, the squirrel now happily eating the ominous chestnut, “Okay, but I brought fifteen vials of paradox, so we are going to burn the tents, right?”

Bryce tried to ignore that Mabs’ backpack, which she had thrown around quite a lot, had a bunch of flammable water in it that could explode at the slightest touch. Watching the squirrel start to hold its little stomach, he continued to reject the idea, “We’re not burning the tents, it’s not part of the mission to- yes, Dale?”

Dale lowered her hand, “So, we’re going to stab all the goblins?”

That notion received encouraging murmurs from the rest of the group, who all then ignored as the squirrel grew wings and flew. Straight into the talons of an owl.

Mabs started scribbling in a notebook, while Bryce reinforced the situation again, “We’re not here to murder goblins.” More groans. “Look, is it so bad if, for once, a Guild mission doesn’t end in the massacre of an entire tribe of goblins?”

“I just think it’s like dinner with no dessert,” Dale was shrugging and comforting her sister, who looked ready to cry at the lack of brutal, violent, murder on offer.

Bryce was close to tearing what little hair he had out. With a heavy sigh, the thief tried to compromise, “Look. We’re not going to just massacre them wholesale. However, if I am seen and chased, then any goblins outside the perimeter of their camp are officially hostiles and can be slain within the parameters of our duty. Do we all understand?”

A pause. Then, slowly, Grace raised her hand. Bryce didn’t even try to correct her now, he just simply pointed. The behemoth of a woman simply asked, “What’s a parameter?”

Behind her, Kyne nodded enthusiastically, clearly also wanting the answer to that question.

Bryce walked away.

Infiltrating a goblin camp is, luckily, fairly easy. The creatures are not the most observant and are often busy arguing with each other or getting drunk off their foul grog. Bryce tried some once and was sick for a week. Grace had three servings.

Like any camp he had been to, there were no guards. Laughter echoed around the various fires as they screeched and hollered at each other. Sticking to the shadows, the thief slunk through tent after tent, listening out for any signs of goblin activity nearby.

The majority of them seemed to be dancing and fighting in the centre of camp, which explained all the shouting. As he watched, a particularly tall goblin (nearly 4 and half feet!) was holding another’s face in the flames. The poor losing goblin writhed and screamed, before dying to a cheer from its companions. After which, as was customary, they ate the loser.

Really, goblins were no trouble. Most of the time. They hardly killed anyone. Especially when compared to snickets, creakers, nagas, ghosts, golems, wyrms, wyverns, drakes, dragons or any other terrible beast that the Guild deals with. Though, admittedly Bryce never learned the difference between all the varieties of giant lizard that could fly, breath fire or both. Regardless, each one killed more people than goblins.

No, reflected Bryce as he crept closer to the chieftain tent, ignored by the feasting creatures. No, the real problem with goblins was that they stole things. Sometimes, it was just a chicken, or a pie.

Sometimes, they got into a wizard tower and stole powerful spell scrolls filled with doom magic.

Bryce hadn’t been told the exact contents of the scrolls, but the words ‘armageddon’ and ‘reckoning’ had been used. The Guildmaster had been very clear on those words, before handing over the contract and leaving.

Bryce didn’t think he needed to move his entire branch with him, but the Guildmaster clearly felt differently.

So, while goblins were not generally a real problem, and Bryce really didn’t think they needed to be so consistently massacred, these particular goblins had the potential to be a big fucking problem.

This was at the forefront of his mind while he carefully slit the back of the chieftain’s tent. The chieftain, clearly identifiable by their wearing of the biggest, fanciest, hat, was busy riding on the back of another goblin, in a smaller, less fancy hat. They seemed to be having fun.

Others were also having fun. Others, such as the two goblins in crewdly made robes that seemed to be staring at Bryce in the tent, scrolls clenched in their green little hands.

“Hey there, friends. Let’s put the scrolls down, shall we? No need for things to get out of hand, eh?” Bryce shrugged his shoulders, motioning with open hands.

For a brief second, and later on Bryce would reflect on just how brief that little moment had been, everything was fine. Then one of the goblins, with long greasy hair and studded eyebrows, muttered something in their squawking speech and one of the scrolls disappeared in a puff of arcane dust.

The other goblin turned around to yell at their friend, who was now glowing like an ominous squirrel, so Bryce took advantage.

With a pang of guilt, he threw a knife at the neck of the non-glowing goblin, snatching the scrolls out of its hands before the other one could do anything. Then, as the remaining goblin began to levitate and scream in an ancient language not heard since man first looked at the unending void of the sky and thought ‘fuck that, I need a sword’, Bryce ran.

Sadly, in the confusion, he ran out of the front of the tent. A horde of squinting green faces looked at him, each one a new combination of angry and confused. At least one added hungry into the mix.

They lifted their spears, pulled back their bows, picked up their swords.

Bryce then found himself conveniently in the air, far away from the goblins. Of course, he was in the air because the tent behind him had exploded into purple flames, and he didn’t really have a landing plan.

As the world spun below him, Bryce could see a dark shape in the middle of the violet inferno. It was growing bigger, the fire moulding itself to the form. That was probably bad. Luckily, he wouldn’t have to worry. When he landed, there would be little to bother him, being dead and all.

All too soon the momentum shifted, and gravity called Bryce home. He began to fall, scrolls still clutched to his chest, just as the new fire goblin began coalescing. He closed his eyes, waiting for the thud of death.

Death was softer than expected. It was also warm and felt like padded training swords across his back and legs. It also didn’t result in the dying bit, which Bryce felt was probably key to the whole situation.

Carefully, he opened his eyes.

Grace smiled at him, face smudged with dirt. Behind her, Hickory was already unloading into the goblin masses and the twins were nowhere to be seen. Likely it meant they were already in the masses, cutting hamstrings and throats.

Bryce wriggled out of Grace’s ample arms, “What the hell are you all doing?”

“Saving you silly! We saw the purple fire shoot into the air.”

“I said to not fight goblins unless they left the perimeter of their camp!”

Grace nodded excitedly at this, “Yes, exactly. Well Mabs explained that the perimeter must also go up - they can’t own all the sky. We decided since they was small, they didn’t need a lot of space, so anything taller than me would be a perimeter beach.”

“Breech.”

“Nope, chausses,” said the large woman, pointing to her heavily armoured legs. Bryce ignored her, and turned to Mabs.

The fixer was staring with awe at the purple blaze that had formed into the visage of a demonic goblin, some fifteen feet tall. She looked like she was crying.

“Mabs, are you okay? Keep it together.”

“It’s just… so… beautiful. Like the Gods themselves blessed us with their own poetry of creation. How could anything I fix up ever reach the majesty I see before me? The sheer striking perfection. Oh, to be ignorant enough to enjoy the sight without understanding the depth of its beauty.” She wrenched her pack off of her bag, shaking it far too much for what it contained.

WIth artistic fury, she shouted at the fire goblin, now turning to the small squad, “Oh terrible muse, you have struck at my heart and shown my own love lacking. Take all I offer, may you use it better than me!”

With confused horror, Bryce watched the crazy fixer throw her bag directly at the advancing fire goblin. The bag burst into flames before it even reached the thing, and then was consumed.

Bryce hoped it would explode and disperse all the flames.

It did not.

The flames grew bigger. Much bigger. The creature screamed with renewed fury and began to run at them.

“Shit shit shit, run run run!” Bryce took off, Grace stomping behind him. Hickory and Mabs followed, though Mabs kept looking back and weeping about the perfect embodiment of her work chasing them.

They hit the trees, weaving through the forest like a pack of wolves. The sounds of the goblin camp, likely still being terrorised by Dale and Kyne, faded as they sprinted. The Guild puts a high emphasis on running when training its recruits, as they often find it’s the key skill involved in people coming back alive.

Grace had pulled ahead, her long legs jerking out in a chaotic sprint that made Bryce wonder when she’d fall and break her neck. Soon, as his lungs began to burn, she veered off, pointing at something.

It was a ditch. She’d somehow seen a trench of earth they could hide in. As they ducked down, Hickory was the first to express disbelief, “Hellfire Grace, how’d you see this.”

“Weren’t hard, saw that.” She pointed to a body, peppered with spears that was half flopped out onto the grass. “Figured his legs had to go somewhere, so here we are.”

Bryce and Mabs pulled the body into the ditch with them, hoping it would give them a little more cover. As they all sat, panting, Mabs asked, “Did you get the scrolls?” Bryce gave her a blank stare, before motioning to the bundles of papers in his arms.

“Wonderful! I wasn’t sure if this was just juicy goblin gossip.”

“We don’t even know if they can write-” Mabs cut him off, taking the scrolls out of his hands and reading them all.

Hickory chimed in, “Did anyone see if Dale or Kyne went down?”

A heavy silence. It was never easy to lose a guild mate. Or two. Worse to be unsure, even if they had survived, they would have no way of finding their way back to the group. Heavily injured, in goblin territory far away from the nearest Guildhall was not good odds for the twins.

“Hey, one of them is missing.”

Bryce rolled his eyes, “Oh I wonder which one?”

Missing his sarcasm, Mabs replied “The Flame of Sollin actually, it’s said to produce a terrible, all consuming purple flame that the user can bend to their will. Impossible to put out, it can burn nearly anything and they say it can even burn other flames, fueling itself. I imagine it’s beautiful.”

Bryce stared at her. Surely not. She must, she had to know…

He pointed toward the forest, the horizon of which was not taking on a worryingly purple tone, “Do you not wonder how the goblin did what it's doing?”

Her eyes went wide, “It used the scroll!? I thought it was just a new breed.”

It was against policy for guildmates to strike each other. Bryce reminded himself of that very thoroughly.

Instead Byrce just ran his hand through his hair and asked, “So, how do we stop it?” Mabs looked confused. Biting down frustration, Bryce hissed, “You know about the scrolls, how do we stop it? The fire goblin?”

Hickory laughed, a real guffaw that Grace had to silence by slamming her meaty hand over Hickory’s face. When the archer got out from under the brute, she was still smiling, “What do you mean stop it? Bryce, you blind mate? It’s a walking fire elemental made from some ancient scroll. We can’t stop it.”

“I thought you were all for killing the goblins.”

“Yeah, when they were goblins - that’s a fucking natural disaster on legs.”

“Big legs too,” said Grace.

As Bryce and Hickory argued back and forth, they were only vaguely aware of two important things.

The first was that, in the small awkward silences, they could hear the whoosh of new trees catching alight. And the sound got closer each time.

The second was that Mabs was flicking through the scrolls, and eyeing up Grace’s sword.

Soon, as Bryce was explaining to Hickory that the fire goblin did not constitute a controlled blaze to help control the forest’s growth, Mabs was excitedly reading and re-reading one of the scrolls.

“Because it’s a concentrated chaos embodied in a half mad goblin, what fucking part of that sounds controlled?”

Hickory’s scathing retort was cut off by Mabs, “Okay, I got it.”

They all looked at the mad little fixer. Hickory said, “She got that same gleam in her eye when she flooded that village.”

“Well, who builds a village at the bottom of a waterfall?” said Mabs dismissively.

“They didn’t, you put the waterfall there you crazy-”

“Not the time,” Bryce had put a hand on Hickory’s shoulder, “Mabs, plan.”

The fixer held up one of the scrolls, “It’s a dispersal charm, a very good one. It breaks up energies and distributes them, very spiritual.” Mabs waited for someone to chime in, perhaps with a prayer. None were forthcoming, so she continued, “A sword enchanted with this could cut through anything magical, and probably more.”

Bryce cocked an eyebrow at that, “More?”

Mabs got her gleam again, “Depending on the wielder, if they wanted they might be able to cut the air away from you. Or cut the light hitting your eyes. They could cut anything.”

Hickory let out a whistle. Bryce turned to Grace, who was quite intently looking at her own sword, and he understood. “You said it depends on the wielder. Their intelligence, I presume.”

Mabs snapped her fingers, “Exactly! We all love our Grace, but she’s not… complex. The sword would be powerful, but not exceedingly dangerous in her hands. They wouldn’t need to send a cleaning crew.”

The whole group shuddered at the mention of the Guilds sanitary division. No one ever wanted to see a cleaning crew.

Still, that aside, it seemed like a solid plan. Bryce turned to Grace, “Well Grace what do you think? A sword that could cut the fire away and let you slay that goblin?” Grace seemed a little skeptical, she had her ridiculous sword across her lap, and she was staring at it. Damn thing must weigh the same as Bryce.

When she spoke, it was not with her useful bountiful enthusiasm, but instead with a quiet reservation that did not really suit her. Like hearing a puppy give a eulogy. Bryce wasn’t sure if that comparison really worked, but it was all he could think. “You want to change Daisy? But she’s been with me so long. What if it changes her?”

Mabs broke the silence that followed that strange request, “It’ll be alright Grace, Daisy will just get stronger. Think of it like this - she’s helped you get strong, so now you can help her.”

It took a second, but that eventually made sense to the larger woman, who smiled and began to happily nod.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Mabs turned to the others, “Great, the ritual takes about twenty minutes, so you’ll need to run distraction.”

Bryce stuck his finger in his ear, and wiggled it around, “Sorry Mabs, what was that? I must be going deaf.”

“You need to buy me twenty minutes.”

As if to help to emphasise the sheer unfairness of what she said, Bryce heard a new tree burst into flames not very far from them. Mabs merely shrugged, “It’s how long the thing takes.”

“It only took the goblin two seconds to become a living avatar of unending fire!”

“Well, this takes longer.”

“Spells are bullshit.” Bryce kicked at the ground, before turning to Hickory.

The archer was already gone.

“Shit,” said Bryce.

As Mabs went to work, seemingly now quite happy to ignore Bryce, the thief climbed out of the ditch.

He couldn’t see Hickory, but he could see trees losing leaves as she hopped from branch to branch. At least she was going in the direction of the purple haze that had consumed the horizon.

Bryce followed her, unsure of what a thief was going to do. He had knives, and some poison darts. They might help.

That illusion was very quickly dispelled as he broke into the clearing the goblin was currently… clearing.

The damn thing still stood some fifteen feet tall, a raging inferno of violet flames. It would swipe at a tree, barely touch it with a palm, and the entire thing would burst into flames. Slowly, the creature seemed to be lumbering toward their little ditch, though not slowly enough.

As Bryce watched, several arrows whistled out of the trees, aimed at its back. They hit, bursting into flames immediately.

Despite that, they seemed to do something, as the creature gibbered in apparent rage before swinging round and roasting the tree it thought the arrows had come from. Luckily, Hickory had already moved on and as the creature burned her old tree to ash, she was already firing arrows from a new one.

Bryce understood the plan, and began to implement his own addition. While Hickory was in the treetops, he stayed low, throwing the occasional knife at the creature's shins.

Luckily, it seemed being an avatar for the true chaos of flame did not make the goblin any smarter. It reacted directly to each attack, burning whatever tree or bush it saw. Bryce saw a lot of dead birds, bunnies and deer. Even an owl with glowing fur in its beak.

Good thing he didn’t know any beast tamers. Or druids.

It couldn’t last forever sadly, they started running out of trees for one. And Bryce was running out of knives. He wished he had enough guildcoin to get something like Hickory’s enchanted quiver. He had spent his last bonus on a flask that never ran out. It had been great until, drunk, he had lost the fucking thing.

They had to retreat, quicker and quicker, from each space they found. The goblin was becoming wise to the trick, burning more and more of the forest with each swipe of its hands. As they serpentined through the forest, it grew more and more annoyed, it almost seemed to glow with rage, before eventually letting out a guttural yell and slashing its arms out.

Bryce screamed too late, he hoped Hickory had moved in time.

A wave of fire exploded in a sphere out from the goblin, Bryce managed to just about outpace it, but the concussive force sent him spiralling into a tree outside of the blackened earth that now surrounded the creature.

Frantically, he scanned the area for Hickory. If she had been caught in any of that, she’d be in bad shape and they had no zealot to heal them. It was difficult, the place was thick with smoke, and he could hear the crackling of each step taken by the fire goblin.

He eventually found her, when she landed on him.

White hot pain shot up his back as the archer’s light, but heavily muscle dense, frame crashed into him. For her part, Hickory lightly smacked him on the ass as she got up, “Cheers for that Bryce, thought that was gonna be bad.”

“It wasn’t great,”

“Oh, you big baby, I’ll sort you out later.”

Bryce rolled his eyes, but he didn’t say no. This was a stressful job, and everyone in the guild had their way of dealing with it. His and Hickory’s way wasn’t healthy, but it worked.

Though of course the major flaw was that it relied on them both coming back alive. Unless Hickory was secretly a necromancer. Though Bryce wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

There were more pressing issues than the issues of consent based around sleeping with the undead - they were out of trees. The goblins' little sphere had cleared the forest, giving them little cover, and the creature had finally turned its eye toward them.

It began to step closer, each ponderous step causing a small inferno to scar the land further. In the centre of it, Bryce could still see the shadow of the original goblin, though it had become ragged and thin.

Both of the guildmates were up and brandishing weapons, for all the good it would do. As they slowly tried to retreat, the goblin would snarl and swipe at the trees behind them, blocking off their retreat.

Soon, Hickory and Bryce found themselves huddled, surrounded by a forest blaze. The goblin creature now turned its full attention on them, guttural, painful screams coming from the shredded shadow inside.

Hickory fired a few more half hearted arrows, “I think this is the end of the line, Bryce.”

“That’s so cliche Hickory, come on we’re better than that.”

“I’m not trying to do better Bryce, I’m about to die and I ain’t original enough to think of fancy new things to say.”

“Just feel like our last words could be a little better quality.”

“Bryce, shut the fuck up.”

They both dived, dodging out of the way of a huge jet of flame. The goblin was not interested, it seemed, in letting them finish their discussion on epitaphs. Bryce had gone left, Hickory diving right, and was now trying to get behind the creature. Even if he couldn’t do anything to it, he hoped to distract the damn thing long enough that it couldn’t kill them both.

He was running so fast, the wind whistled sharply in his ears, nearly drowning out the rasp of his breath. As he stopped, directly behind the goblin, he realised the whistling hadn’t stopped. What was that?

A shooting star crashed through the charred remains of the forest, smashing the tree husks to burnt splinters as it surged into the clearing. There was a flash of purple light, as flame began billowing off of the goblin creature, which was now screaming in pain.

As Bryce’s vision returned, he could see a huge, shining, jagged shard of metal was lodged in the back of the goblin. Hanging off the other end, slowly dragging the shard of metal through fiery flesh of the creature, were a faintly smoking Dale and Kyne.

The twins hung from the jagged metal strip, both grinning like a knight who had just saved his first maiden. Hickory screamed in excitement, “Holy shit, I thought you were dead! What happened?”

Dale refused to stop grinning, so Kyne spoke, “We found their black powder! Turns out the little buggers were making explosives.” She kicked her legs in excitement, and both twins started laughing.

Bryce picked his jaw up from the floor, “And you managed to aim that thing in our direction?”

The twins laughed harder, before Kyne explained through a fit of giggles, “No you idiot, we just got on the roof of their little science hut. Set off their powder and this table knocked us both in the ass.”

The twins continued laughing at the fact they had somehow survived, the sound discordant with the screaming from the fire goblin, which was now spinning, trying to roast the twins as the remains of their table slowly melted in the goblins' back.

“Bryce!”

He moved at Hickory’s shout, narrowly avoiding another chunk of smoking metal from nailing him to the floor. Other bits of debris began to rain down, giving Bryce an idea. Scanning, while ducking the raining slag, he soon spotted a strip of warped metal that he could lift.

The goblin was beginning to glow, swiping at the metal in its back, melting it quicker and forcing Dale and Kyne to jump off, retreating away. Finally, in victory, the goblin managed to melt the metal away from itself, turning on the twins, flames clawing higher toward the sky.

As it reeled back its hand, flames roaring across its fist, Bryce took a step forward and shoved his twisted bit of metal into the ass of the infernal thing.

Another scream as it turned, the metal bar catching Bryce by surprise and flinging him across the grass. Bruised and battered, as he rolled to a stop, Bryce shouted to the others, “Metal hurts it, the flames need to melt it. Fill the fucker with metal.”

Hickory snorted, “Why didn’t our arrows and knives do anything earlier?” Though she did not wait for an answer before picking up a decent chunk of smoking debris.

Bryce rolled his shoulders, both shrugging and checking nothing was broken, “Too small, not covered in that weird black powder they make? I don’t know, just keep shoving things in it.”

It was not easy, but they ducked and dodged jets of flame and swiping burning fists, to jab more of the smoking nearby metal into the creature.

There wasn’t a lot, but it definitely slowed the thing down. Until, when Dale shoved another chunk into its foot, the glow grew brighter. The gibbering shifted, becoming a high pitched keening. Bryce’s eyes went wide, “Run, Run!”

The guildmates fled toward the ditch, Dale and Kyne following Hickory and Bryce. Another whoosh, and the four of them were shoved forward by the concussive force of another explosion. Bryce hit a tree and felt a rib crack, Dale slamming into him immediately after, breaking it.

He couldn’t smell roasting fat, so assumed they had all avoided the outburst, but a quick look around confirmed he was not the only one in rough shape.

Hickory’s face was a mess of blood, only a shallow rise and fall of her chest told Bryce she was alive. Dale was crushing him, and by her scream it seemed her leg was broken.

The other scream was Kyne, who it seems had taken a branch to the side. She hung above Hickory, screaming in agony, blood pouring down her, dripping over the unconscious Hickory.

Thankfully, before he had to pierce his eardrum, the branch broke and Kyne fell. She passed out, as had Dale, from the shock. Only Bryce still had eyes to see the purple flicker of light, telling him the goblin was coming.

Heat began to roll over him, intense waves of hot air that caused Bryce to sweat even more than he already was. As the creature emerged from the trees, towering over him, the shadow tattered into a thin, ragged strip, Bryce accepted that he was about to die.

Of course, it was after that moment of serendipity, that moment where Bryce accepted all his failings and really understood the whole concept of non-existence and made peace with it, that there was a flash of light from behind him.

His philosophical epiphany was washed away by the cackling of Mabs, who screamed ‘it worked! It worked!’ at the top of her lungs.

From behind him, a new towering figure came into view.

Grace, simple, brutish Grace, stood there holding Daisy, which now seemed so sharp that the blade edge shone as if it was cutting light itself.

The warrior strode forward, delicately stepping over the piled bodies of her friends, smiling at Bryce, she whispered, “Mabs says I get to cut everything now, so I’m gonna cut the monster.”

“That’s great Grace, you go get ‘em.” His voice was strained, pain, exhaustion and heat robbing him of the ability to speak at length.

He did however scream when Grace kicked Dale’s broken leg, which meant the woman flinched and drove an elbow into Bryce’s broken rib. Graceful as always.

Through the blur of pain, he watched as Grace stood, facing the towering purple inferno that was once a goblin.

Grace was a bumbling idiot, there was no other way to really say it. She was clumsy, she didn’t understand a lot of things and, more often than not, she would fuck up the mission.

However, watching her fight was an almost religious experience. Despite her blade being a glorified slap of metal, it would sing through the air. Her enemies almost never saw the cut that killed them. Grace was a master swordswomen. If it could bleed, she could kill it.

This thing didn’t bleed.

It didn’t take her seriously at first, her initial cut sliced across the purple flames and they almost seemed to peel back, like flesh from a wound. However, instead of blood it was fire that shot out, scorching Grace’s skin.

From then, it was a battle of attrition. Grace could cut the flames, but each wound she dealt required her to dodge a deadly burst of fire. Sometimes she did, sometimes she didn’t. The thing couldn’t attack her without hurting itself, but she couldn’t hurt it without being attacked.

Bryce could see where this was going, and was just happy for a moment that Grace couldn’t. She was simply going to fight, until the thing was dead. No matter what.

Their dance continued, and Bryce could see more and more of Grace getting consumed by the flames. Deep scorches scarred her arms, her face. He struggled, trying to shift the unconscious Dale, wanting to help.

He had to help.

A hand on his shoulder stopped his futile struggle. As he watched Grace’s armour begin to glow, begin to melt, he heard Mabs’ voice in his ear, “Just sit back. You can’t help, none of us can.” He paused for a second, then began struggling again. Mabs was more stern now, pulling him back down, slamming his back into the tree. She hissed, “Listen to me. She’s doing this to save the rest of us. You go out there and die, and you will die, you ruin the whole thing. You ruin her sacrifice.”

Bryce couldn’t find the energy to talk, to explain. He didn’t want her sacrificed. He wanted Grace. She shouldn’t even be here. She just followed him. Followed her big brother.

Another slice took the top off of the fire creature, sending flame away from Grace. She seemed to have learned, was trying to cut the beast so the fire shot away from her. It was too slow though, she couldn’t hold out. Her slashes got sloppy, her lunges weaker. Her dodging became slow.

She was treating it like a thing of flesh and blood, and it wasn’t working. The fire would rebuild, and the shadow in the middle would shred a little more.

The shadow.

He was a bloody idiot.

Inhaling, feeling his broken rib grind together, Bryce shouted, “Grace, the shadow!”

She heard him and paused to wave, the bloody idiot. A jet of flame took her hand. She screamed, blood erupting from her mouth, the heat was starting to cause her some sort of internal distress. Despite that, she nestled Daisy in the crook of her elbow, her remaining hand gripping the hilt as tightly as possible.

The beast began to glow again.

Grace lunged forward, The beast erupted into flame again. Bryce couldn’t watch.

Mabs told him later that Grace’s sword, resting on her mutilated arm, pierced the centre shadow of the goblin. She then heaved, tearing Daisy through the beast.

Bryce heard the screech. One last, gurgling keen. He saw light flash through his eyelids. He heard the crackle of the last fiery explosion the goblin was building.

He smelled Grace burn.

Opening his eyes, all he could see in front of him was her back, bare and charred. It seemed the fire had burned nearly everything away. She smoked faintly.

He tried to call for her, though later he wouldn’t remember. He wouldn’t remember calling for her, begging for her to turn around. There would be faint memories of wanting to crawl towards her, of Mabs stopping him. She wouldn’t let him look at her face, Bryce would never really forgive her for that.

He had stolen trickier things before, but in all of those, Grace wasn’t with him. And she never would be again.