The nymph let out a short bark of derisive laughter. “And you are all saints?” She sighed. “Would you care to be more specific?”
Though Aidan could not see them from his position, he imagined the three elves looking at each other, their eyes shifting from one warty face to the other. Had he not known what they were capable of, he might have let out a laugh.
One of the elves – Reek, perhaps – picked up the narrative of her sister. “We know nothing for certain, milady.” There was a hint of malice added to the word ‘milady’. “Only that she won’t show us the maps.”
“Aye,” said the third elf, Gully. “Says we’ll betray our kind, that among one of us there be a thief and a traitor.”
The first elf chortled and then broke down coughing. Once she had recovered, the creature apologized. “The Beyond do nay agree wiff me lungs.”
“And you still don’t know who or what killed you four?”
Aidan had wondered the same thing. He’d always thought it impossible for one of those formidable creatures to die. When he found out the means, he would take note, in case he got on the wrong side of one or more of the creatures again.
“We told ye once, milady, that we nay know who dealt the blow, only that it was some right powerful magic, not belonging to no Blest. A flash of red and a ringing sound, and that was it.”
The nymph queen laughed, and Aidan cringed. “And you’re certain it wasn’t Meraude who dealt the fatal blow?” Her words sounded casual enough, but Aidan sensed there was some hidden hope or dread behind them.
There was another cough and some sputtering. “Meraude has numbers and a bit o’ power. This was power wiff no numbers, if you catch my meaning.” A beat later, the she-elf clarified: “Him was working alone, this powerful being.”
“What makes you say ‘him’?”
It was Gully who answered. “No woman that mighty, not by long and far.” The air crackled with dread. “Is there?”
“You and your sisters were fools in life, and you continue to be so in the afterlife.” Her Pull moved nearer to Aidan than he would have liked, and it took a bit of self-control not to move away, lest he reveal his presence. Mercifully, there was a noise in the distance, up by the house, the sound of wood being chopped. It was enough to draw the she-elves’ and the nymph’s attention. Someone swore. “What idiot is destroying trees again? Will these fools never learn to use eternal flame?” Her Pull moved away. “Come, we’ve tarried here long enough. We’ve much to prepare for the door and the key.”
Aidan frowned. What door and key? Perhaps he had misheard….
“We should keep this information between the four of us.”
The elves grunted.
The strange woman sniffed. “And take a bath, all three of you. You smell like a farm.” Her Pull moved away and out of earshot.
“But we is on a farm,” Gully muttered. Her sisters grunted their agreement, and tottered away, arguing about whether or not they would tell their fourth sister, Treevain, who was curiously absent.
Aidan waited as one by one their Pulls were a safe distance away before he moved out of his hiding spot, and that was when he became aware of a fifth Pull that he had at first mistaken for an animal. It was familiar, this presence, and though it was not as strong as a human’s Pull, it was not an animal. He prepared to Summon the silver sword of Slaíne’s, but stayed his hand. He could not kill that which was already dead.
Merry cackling crackled in the overgrowth of weeds, which shivered and bent as a stooped form emerged from their midst. “Fools in life, fools in death,” said Treevain, the tall and warty she-elf. She peered at Aidan from the corner of her eye. “What make you of them’s words, Aidan Ingledark?”
Recoiling from the stench of her breath, Aidan shook his head. “I thought Salem had brought me hence.”
The ugly creature frowned. “Who be that, I wonder?” She plucked at a hair springing from the wart on her chin. Her eyes lit up. “Ah, yes, the Blest boy. No, he nay brought you hence. ’Twas me.” Her back straightened at this pronouncement – as much as it could straighten; Treevain still stood stooped, her old bones bent and her back humped.
“And you brought me here because…?”
“What for? he asks me.” The elf cackled and gestured in the direction in which the others had gone. “What is they plotting? I wonders. Keys and maps and mischief.” Now she frowned and spat on the ground. “Tell no one you has the maps, Blest one.”
Aidan shook his head. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
Treevain shook her head, her expression grim. “I hear the accusations in yourn voice, Lord Ingledark. I betray my sisters, you says – nay, my kind.”
Aidan had thought no such thing, but he let the elf continue while keeping his distance. “I am ancient, Ingledark, the eldest of me kind. The other three of us greats? Not so great. War is coming to this land again, you mark me words on it, milord. Times afore I took a side, the side of the lesser. Now—” Her great shoulders heaved. “Tired o’ death, I is. No more magical blood need be shed.”
He nodded in silence, hoping to keep her talking. When she did not continue her ramblings, he offered, “You allude to the war between all magic-kind, I imagine?”
The creature hissed and turned a snarling face in the other direction. “Oh, aye.” She nodded in the direction her three sisters had gone. “An’ they nay do trust me now, the other three of me kin, and rightly so, I reckon.” She swore a rainbow of oaths before calming and turning back to face Aidan. “If I only know’d what this key and door be. Feels important-like.”
Aidan weighed his words carefully before committing them to the air. “Do you know where the tomb of Cedric the Elder lies?”
She wagged a bony finger in his direction, though there was a smile on her face. “Now you’s asking good questions.” The elf cleared her throat and began to speak: “Follow the Pull of magical blood, seek the starberry circle in the shadows of the Ludland. There, ’neath the crown, find the dark place. Speak not the name of the Elder thence, lest his spirit rise and o’er-take you. Wake now, Aidan Ingledark. Find you the Goblet of Questing and stay the arm of war.”
The she-elf snapped her fingers, and Aidan awoke in the world of the living.
Chapter Seven
Aidan
The next morning, Aidan rose before Slaíne and the sun. He had tried sleeping after his visit to the Beyond, but the weight of Treevain’s words hung on him like a millstone. Was there really another war coming? If so, whose side would he find himself on? Aidan had been hiding his abilities ever since they manifested when he was ten years of age. He had hidden them from his uncle, who might have seen him burned on a pyre, but he had shared with Tristram most of what he could do. The former he had feared, the latter had betrayed him. If war were to come, Aidan wondered if it would be between magical beings again – a battle for power – or if it would be the rest of the world versus him and his own kind.
He had fallen asleep again for perhaps an hour, but his dreams were wrought with images of battle, of magical blood spilled, and he had sat up with a start, gasping for breath. Now, tired and anxious, Aidan Summoned another pasty from Nothingness, along with the least-full water bladder, and broke his fast as the morning birds twittered their early songs. Perhaps if he behaved like nothing was wrong, his heart would get the idea and slow its frantic pace.
First light crept overhead as he sat and breakfasted. The ground was wet with dew, and Aidan knew they should dry the hides before he Dismissed them, which meant getting a later start than he would have liked. But he would take advantage of every minute, studying and foraging. First, though, he would search.
Warring with queasiness, Aidan Dismissed the remnants of his meal, closed his eyes, and tried to ignore Slaíne, who was beginning to mumble in her sleep. It did not take him nearly as long as it had the time previous to find the strange Pull in t
he distance, the one he hoped and assumed belonged to the battleground where magical blood had been shed. It was north of there, though farther east than he had supposed before. The Pull was faint here, but if it were as far away as he thought it might be, the Pull was strong indeed.
Aware that Slaíne was perhaps close to waking, Aidan removed his focus from the distant Pull and slowly brought himself back to the small clearing in which they camped. Opening his eyes, Aidan shook his head and blinked against the light.
Slaíne thrashed in her sleep like a madwoman, muttering curses as she struggled against some invisible foe. “No,” she said, her hands clawing at the air.
Aidan sighed and decided that he had better wake her before she hurt herself. “Slaíne,” he said once, putting out a hand to shake her.
It all happened so quickly. One moment Aidan was kneeling beside Slaíne, shaking her by the shoulder, and the next he was on his back with her astride him, her mane blowing in a breeze as she put a hand to his throat. At first her eyes were unfocused. Then they locked on to his, and her grasp on his windpipe tightened.
Recovering his wits, Aidan grabbed her hand and pulled it away, though it took most of his strength. “Slaíne!” he said. “It’s Aidan.”
There was no look of recognition on her face for a moment, but at least she had stopped trying to strangle him. “Where is he?” she demanded.
“Where is who?” Only when he was certain she was done attacking him did he release her hand. “I think you’ve had a bad dream.”
Slaíne shook her head. With a scowl, she looked around her, as if expecting the foe from her dream to appear. “Can’t see him. He’s invisible.” Even as the words tumbled out of her mouth, Slaíne frowned, blinked her eyes furiously, and then at last seemed to realize that she was still straddling him. They looked at each other for a moment, and then she scrambled to her feet, nearly kicking Aidan in the face.
Aidan fought a grin and rose as well. “We need to dry out the hides,” he said. “But you need to wake up first.” He scooped up the water bladder and handed it to her, then he Summoned another pasty. “Here.” Why was he blushing like a schoolboy? He passed over the pasty and turned away.
“’Twas all a dream, yes?” she surprised him by asking. Before Aidan could answer, Slaíne’s Pull moved closer and then stopped.
He shrugged. “It depends. What was your nightmare about?” Aidan picked up one of the smaller hides and shook it out as best he could. Then he laid it on a low-hanging branch that was getting some sun.
“Oh, it weren’t all bad. That’s partially why I’m askin’.” She dropped the bladder, which mercifully did not burst.
Aidan looked over his shoulder and saw that she had one hand clutched over her heart, smiling slightly, only to shudder, her grin turning into a confused frown. Seeing that something was troubling her, Aidan thought to ask her about it, but then thought the better of that idea. Things between them were awkward and strange enough as it was, no matter inquiring after each other’s thoughts and feelings. Instead, he said, “You were thrashing around in your sleep. I woke you up. Nothing else happened while you were sleeping, save for my breaking fast.” He chanced another glance at her.
It looked as though all the wind had been knocked out of Slaíne, but she simply nodded and nibbled at the pasty, shoulders hunched. Then she seemed to recover from whatever was bothering her and tore off a larger portion of her breakfast. Through a full mouth she asked, “I nay think we should let the hides dry.”
Aidan’s eyebrows shot heavenward. “Why?”
“Dunno.” Slaíne shrugged. “Just a thought that bad things might happen if’n we stay here long.” She finished her pasty and rubbed her hands over her arms. “Please, Mr. Aidan. Let’s not stay here.”
Not knowing what to make of this change in his plans – and the one in her demeanor – Aidan did not argue with her but Dismissed the hides and reasoned that they would not be ruined in Nothingness. He went to her and picked up the water bladder that she had dropped and handed it to her again.
After taking several long pulls from the vessel, she sealed it and gave it back. “Don’t ya feel it?”
He frowned. “Do I feel any Pulls, you mean?”
Slaíne started to nod but then shook her head. “I dunno. Can ya check?”
“Of course.” Aidan concentrated beyond Slaíne’s Pull, ignored the Pulls of animals and nature, before landing on a Pull similar to the one he had sensed last night. But it was different. Or was it? Aidan closed his eyes and tried to Call it, but it was alive, and therefore would not heed his mind’s commands. Shaking his head, Aidan opened his eyes and squinted against the sun. “There is something out there,” he said, and then regretted it at once, for Slaíne’s face paled.
“What sort of Pull?”
How could he explain such a thing to her that he himself did not understand? Aidan had never felt any Pull quite like this one before, and yet he had. “I’ll be mindful of it,” he said carefully. “But I wouldn’t worry. It’s probably some animal – in faith, I’m fairly certain that it’s an elk.”
She spun in circles, her eyes searching the skies. “It was like this, in my dream. Something bad was followin’ us.” Slaíne’s hair flew out wildly like flames blooming in a breeze as she nearly made Aidan dizzy out of sympathy. “Let us away, Mr. Aidan.” Before he could answer, she started out northeast, the path he had intended to take but had not told her.
Gooseflesh broke out on Aidan’s arms, and he Summoned his cloak to cover himself with. Then, after one look behind him for reassurance that no eyes were watching them, he followed her.
* * *
Morning stretched on for what felt like an eternity. The sun was stubbornly pegged at what seemed to be the same point in the sky for a good deal of their walking, and the air continued to hold a chill. Secretly, Aidan kept searching for the Pull that he had felt earlier. It was still out there, keeping its distance…at least, Aidan thought it might be the same Pull. The quality of it had altered, which made no sense to him. Pulls did not normally change, unless it went from living to deceased, living being the more substantial of the two. If he had to make a guess, Aidan would say that his weary mind was making the whole thing up. But the notion was not so easily dismissed.
The trees thinned in places, opening up patches above them to allow in more light. Now the sun rose in earnest, beating against their faces. Heat replaced chill, and soon Aidan found himself stripping off his cloak and Dismissing it and draining almost half a water bladder himself before passing it over to Slaíne.
They had been walking in silence for the better part of two hours, Slaíne leading the way at a determined pace, though he had not told her the direction of the Pull. Perhaps she sensed it somehow as well, as she could sense the repulsion of iron.
Now, on the third hour of walking, they both were panting and clutching pangs in their sides. One look at each other silently confirmed their plans, and they ate a quick lunch beneath the shelter of a large maple. “Do you wish to move on?” Aidan asked, since their pace had been punishing.
“Nah,” Slaíne replied. She wiped the crumbs of another pasty from her lips and leaned against the bark of the tree. “I think that thing what’s following us got lost.”
Aidan stared at her in amazement for a moment, and then searched for the Pull. He sensed no human or strange Pulls for at least three miles. Perhaps the creature, whatever it might be, had indeed lost its way.
“You should probably take a look at them maps. Might be an age and a day ’til we get a dry moment to do it again.” The words held a weight that Aidan could not argue with, so he Summoned the map to Cedric’s grave and the only other map in his cache, the one that led to…well, he was uncertain of where. It had no words on it, just drawings that looked like they might belong to such a document.
After lowering himself down next to Slaíne, Aidan ha
nded her the sheet of drawings and studied the one with the poems and sketches on it. “Strange,” he said after ten minutes had passed. He held the map up to some light filtering through the tree cover and squinted at the town labeled Ashborne, the only town mentioned on the map.
“What’s strange?”
Aidan pointed to the dot that was Ashborne and said, “This town was not here when I looked at it last.” He pointed to a spot farther east on the map. “This is where Ashborne ought to lie…at least, that’s how I remember it.”
“Lemme see.” Slaíne took the map from his hands and held it up for study. “Huh. If you say.”
He checked his irritation. “Have you ever been that way?”
Slaíne shrugged. “The elves went wherever the whim and wind took ’em. Nay ever told me where we was at the time, now I recall. May’ve thought me too stupid.” She sniffed. “Lotta good keepin’ things from me did. They’s dead, I’m not.”
“I must be imagining things.” The breeze picked up around them, threatening to tear the map from Aidan’s hands, so he Dismissed it and studied the other nonsensical piece of parchment. It, too, was not quite how he had remembered it to be, but he knew he was entirely capable of having been mistaken. At long last, Aidan quit and Dismissed that document as well.
His traveling companion gave him a puzzled look but asked nothing about what he had seen or deciphered. She was the first to her feet. “What was it like, livin’ as a lord’s son?” she surprised him by asking. When he did not respond at once, Slaíne tried again, adding, “I’ve a bad feeling and need to be distracted, yes?” Her look was imploring, and Aidan wondered what might be troubling her.
Instead of asking what the matter might be, Aidan rose as well and the two of them continued their journey. “Well,” he said slowly, picking his way around some roots. “My father was a busy man, from what I recall. He had the town and the estate to run, and Mother was often unwell, so Samuel and I were raised by a nanny.”
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