Bemused, Aidan stared at her. He wasn’t quite sure if that question had been meant for him or not, so decided it best not to answer.
“Well, Meraude will pay…no fortress high enough for me.”
That compelled him to ask. “You eavesdropped?”
She shrugged. “’Course.”
Of course she had. Aidan shook the fuzz out of his head. “And you know Meraude?”
The girl hissed. “Aye. I know of her, all right.”
“But where might I find her? And does she really know of the Immortal?”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Not worth it for me to say.”
“Then you know.”
She sighed. “Ain’t up to me to tell you.” Her stormy eyes met his for a moment, and then she stalked away, ripping a low growl from Aidan’s throat as if she were taking an unwitting and unwilling piece of him with her.
He looked down at the salve, searched its Pulls, and decided that it was quite without poison or irritant. He sniffed once, made a face, and slathered it onto his oozing hand.
To his surprise, the wound began to heal at once, and the pain all but melted away. It wasn’t until later, after he had set up a fire and found sustenance for Triumph and himself, that he heard shrieking and a whip crack. Aidan grimaced and decided to return the salve in secret that evening. Perhaps it wasn’t hers to give.
* * *
The remainder of the day found Aidan skirting around the elves and the Pull of the girl, who now flinched at the sight of him. He spent his time gathering common herbs, which he stored in his saddlebag, and brushing his steed and checking his shoes. Triumph was glad to lie down for some deep sleep. The poor creature had no idea what hard riding his master had in store that very night.
When the sun was setting, Aidan dined on a generous handful of mushrooms, which he roasted in his Summoned cooking patera with wild chives, beaver fat, and a few potatoes that he’d filched from Tristram’s overstocked kitchen when he’d first set foot inside his friend’s house. The elves might have guessed his abilities, had they been paying close attention to how much equipment he produced from nowhere. As it was, they seemed content to check on him infrequently. Suspicious, Aidan kept the goblet with him at all times.
After he’d consumed his supper and the contents of his third-to-last water bladder, Aidan watched as, one-by-one, the elves trotted off to bed. The moon retreated behind a bank of silvery-black clouds, leaving the flickering oranges and yellows of the fire to bathe the campers in dingy light. Soon, the elves snored unawares in their wagon under a thick pile of furs, grunting and farting and making all sorts of distasteful noises Aidan thought only men capable of.
He lay down by his fire and drew his cloak over himself. The goblet was near at hand, and he felt confident that he could defend it long enough to get away. Breaking his deal to talk in the morning, though, was not a feat he relished. He could not in good conscience give the elves what they wanted. But I need their information, he thought as a yawn ripped itself from his mouth.
As if in answer to Aidan’s silent frustration, the Pull between the elves’ serving wench and himself tightened. He squinted, just making out her lithe form prowling around in the shadows. What keeps you up so late? he wondered. Careful as not to disturb the elves and alert them to his quickly forming plan, Aidan eased himself to his feet, threw on his cloak, and grabbed the goblet sack.
The girl must have heard his movements, for she froze, the firelight glinting off her eyes in the semi-darkness. She had been humming, he realized, something he had mistaken for insects buzzing in the distance. The air grew tense, crackling with the electricity of an unrealized storm.
Aidan held up his hands, palms and sack revealed. When Slawva – or was it Slaíne? – hissed like a wild cat, a finger flew up to his lips and he shook his head. Then, feeling pathetic, he motioned for her to come closer. He would lure her over, and then…he would have to think on-the-move, for there went the servant farther into the bracken.
After a moment of indecision, he clenched his teeth and set out after her. Aidan moved as stealthily as he was able, but every footfall seemed to find a twig or an angry bullfrog. And the Pull…he wondered if she could feel it, too, and whether or not that would alert her to his exact position in his pursuit.
The Pull grew steadily stronger and stronger. He knew he was feet away. And yet he didn’t catch any sight of her. This is ridiculous, he thought, shaking his head. How would he keep her quiet long enough to kidnap her? Surely she would shriek bloody murder, drawing the elves’ attention to their whereabouts. Once the elves were involved…well, he might as well start running for his life right now.
Something sharp and cold poked him in the back. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. There was a sword at his back, and judging by the steadiness of her hand, Slaíne had wielded it before. But who would let a slave have a sword, let alone keep them unshackled at night? Arrogance, sheer arrogance on the elves’ part.
He made to turn around, but the sword – a thin, silver blade – flew up to his neck, as if to say Move and you’re dead.
Aidan explored the blade’s Pull and, satisfied that there was only one witness, he Dismissed it.
Aidan spun around, and the girl took a step back, eyes wide in the failing light. She opened her mouth as if to scream, but he Summoned the sword into his own hand, blade directed at her neck. “Move.”
The girl scowled but did as he said, leading the way back to camp. She seemed to do nothing to mute her footsteps, her feet cracking and breaking twigs, stirring up leaves. But when they got back to camp, the elves were snoring as loud as anything.
“Over there,” he whispered, jerking his head toward Triumph, who had risen and now stood dark and watchful.
The girl gave him a shrewd look before tramping over to Aidan’s steed, the blade still at her back.
“Pick that up.” When she looked back at him, he nodded to the sack, the one he had just let drop.
Aidan made quick work of Dismissing everything else, leaving the fire to be dealt with by the elves. He Dismissed the blade and grabbed the girl. He slapped a hand over her mouth before she could scream, and murmured, “One sound and I’ll knock you out cold. Do you understand?” When she didn’t move, he took that as a yes. “I’m going to remove my hand now.” And he did.
The girl was silent and still.
Well, that was easy enough, he thought. He released her, and nudged her toward his horse.
One of the elves muttered something nonsensical in their sleep, and the others responded with great snorts of their own.
Aidan froze for a moment, before deciding his movements had not disturbed the four, and then mounted Triumph. With a low grunt, he grabbed his prisoner by the waist, pulling her up in front of him.
She didn’t resist. It would seem that she was willing to leave her mistresses.
I’m stealing from elves, he thought, shaking his head. What in this blessed world am I thinking? There was no choice left to him, though. The elves wanted the goblet, and the girl had the information; he wanted both but wouldn’t be given both…so he was taking both.
As if in answer to his thoughts, one of the elves let out a piercing shriek, waking the others. “Bandit! Thief!”
Aidan kicked Triumph into a gallop, leaning forward and into the girl as sparks of green and gold struck at the air around them, near and explosive missiles. The horse picked up speed, but the elves – the elves were somehow keeping pursuit on foot.
He leaned to the left, taking a sharp turn with the reins, nearly throwing him and the girl out of the saddle. Something hot hit him in the shoulder, burning through his clothes and searing his flesh, though the pain disappeared almost instantly. A warning shot…that or they did not want to kill or maim the girl by mistake.
“Give her back! Give her back!” they screamed, murd
er in their voices.
Aidan didn’t dare look behind, but murmured encouragement to his steed. He had hoped to be concealed in the darkness, where he could hide off the side of the road. But with the bolts of magic fire flashing over and around him, the road was as bright as day.
Triumph was already puffing great clouds of steam in the late air. This pace couldn’t be sustained; it would kill the beast. Cursing his luck, Aidan made a last-second decision. The goblet was perhaps important, but not worth his life.
With a grunt, he ripped the goblet out of the girl’s hands and tossed it onto the flaming road behind him. Curious, he chanced a glance over his shoulder. Another bolt of green and yellow light was hurled his way, but he managed to dodge it.
The four had stopped their pursuit to have a look at their prize.
Aidan took advantage of their distraction and rode off the road and into the wood, his pace slow, silent, and steady. The moon provided some light to see by, and they rode as far as he dared in the semi-darkness, even as the elves again took up their inhuman shrieking.
“They won’t stop lookin’ for me,” the girl said. “I know too much.”
Chapter Four
Aidan didn’t sleep a jot that night, hiding in the brush with Triumph, the girl, and the knowledge that he could be caught and murdered at any moment. At one point, he swore he heard whispering, followed by a quickly hushed cackle. More than once he was tempted to return the girl and save his own skin. But then he thought of his missing family, his responsibility, and the answers this simple girl might hold.
At first he fooled himself, flattered himself that her Pull had nothing to do with his decision. Then, as she fell asleep, he explored the strange tug between them, annoyed more than curious.
He couldn’t have anything slowing him down, and what was he thinking bringing her with him? Maybe the elves would have given him the answers that he needed if he had stayed around ’til morning to hear them.
And yet…what was fairer to her? She had given him the salve for his hand, possibly taken a beating for it.
Aidan groaned and Summoned his cloak, which he threw over the girl. “There. We’re even.” Almost.
* * *
At the dawning, sleep tugging at the corners of his eyes, Aidan took care of some personal business nearby behind a tree and Summoned the meager supply of food he had left. He would have to forage until he could reach Wontworth and replenish his wares.
There were some dried fruits and smoked meats, herbs, beaver fat, and enough water skins to see them through one more day, give or take a few hours, which was worrisome. As for Triumph – he had as much hay and alfalfa as Aidan could possibly hold on to. He Dismissed all but what they needed for the morning, and returned to camp.
The girl was gone.
Aidan cursed himself for being so careless. So distraught was he that he did not think to explore the Pull. But then he strained his hearing and could make out singing in that same strange, lilting voice he had heard whilst at the Roma camp.
Tee diddle diddly dee
The sky was clear as can be
The gull called to the sea
And the fish answered to he:
“Wishes is for fishes
A kraken a-washin’ the dishes
Go lookin’ elsewhere for your fishes
For I am not for thee.”
Relief washed over Aidan and escaped his chest in one great gasp. He drained a few mouthfuls from the sheep’s bladder and watched as Triumph dined on several fistfuls of hay.
The singing cut off shortly, and the girl wandered back into the camp, scratched up and dirt-smudged. She didn’t give Aidan a second look, but set two eggs in his pile of food supplies.
“Where did you get those?”
The girl – Slaíne, Aidan remembered – shook her head and wiped her brow. “Pigeon’s nest.”
“A pigeon’s nest?” Aidan said, gathering supplies for a fire. “That would be a high climb.”
Slaíne shrugged. “Not too high for me.” And she turned again, as if to disappear into the woods.
Before Aidan could stop himself, he stood upright and said quite firmly, “Where are you going?”
“To find water. Is that all right with you?” she snapped.
“How do I know you’re not going to just run off and find your mistresses again?”
Her face pinched. “They ain’t my mistresses. ’Sides, coulda run off whilst you were occupied earlier, now couldn’t I?” She rolled her eyes and continued to leave.
Irritation replaced relief, and Aidan followed her. “How much have your mistresses told you of the Immortal?”
“They ain’t my mistresses,” she repeated.
Aidan nodded. “Fair enough.” He waited, hoping she would offer something. When she did not, he crossed his arms and stared her straight in the eyes. “What do you know?”
Slaíne worried her lower lip, squinting against the sun. “An’ I’m supposed to tell you all I know, jus’ like that?” A smirk taunted her lips but did not meet her hard eyes.
His biceps tightened. “So you do know about the Immortal.”
She snorted. “So what if I do? What makes you think I’m just gonna tell you everything I know?” Her gaze held on to his, though she brought up a hand to her eyes to shield herself from the overhead blaze.
Aidan scratched at his chin stubble. “You talked of this Meraude. You seemed to hate her.”
“What of it?”
“Well, perhaps I could help you with her.”
“Help me with her? What could you possibly do against a mage?” When he opened his mouth to remind her of what he had done to her blade, she interrupted. “Yes, making things disappear an’ all that. What good will that do against a mage?”
“More than a scrawny girl could do alone.”
She hissed and bared her teeth, reminding Aidan of a feral cat, one that he was trying to pet. “I’m no girl. Two and twenty, and don’t you forget.”
Aidan raised his hands. “All right. Still….” He followed her farther into the brush and bracken. “You’re not going to accomplish anything on your own. We might as well help each other.” He bumped into her when she stopped short, eliciting a yelp. “Why don’t you tell me everything you know about the Immortal, and I’ll help you find and avenge yourself against Meraude.”
Slaíne cocked her head to the side, her gaze wary. “You want something from her, though.”
“So I’ll get that, and then we’ll see about taking your revenge, hmm?”
She scoffed and was silent for a moment, biting her lower lip. At last she said, “Let me just see how much you can be trusted before I say a thing.”
Aidan glowered. He did not like having to wait on others’ whims, and he knew this girl was going to drag this out as long as she could. “But if I’m—”
She turned and continued walking.
Without thinking, he reached out, grabbed her shoulder, and spun her around. Aidan was used to dealing with men, and her reaction surprised him.
Slaíne, for all her bravado, cringed away like he was about to strike. Hate filled her eyes and she stalked around him, back toward their camp, stretching the Pull between them.
Confused and ashamed, Aidan looked down at his hand, which was wet with blood. He frowned until he recalled the whip crack he had heard the previous evening. “Idiot,” he groaned, taking a step back. “I am such an idiot.” Not only was he no closer to getting the answers he sought, he now had to tiptoe, something he was not good at. He was tempted to follow her and apologize, but she started singing again, and he knew that she could wait.
Satisfied that the girl was still close by but not within earshot, Aidan sat beneath a tree, crossed his legs, and attempted something he hadn’t done in ages.
At first he closed his eyes and explored the Pulls
around him. He was struck again by the strength of Slaíne’s Pull, but he felt around it. Something small skittered down below the ground. Its Pull was easy enough to let go. He reached out farther, feeling snakes in all their thin, wriggling insubstantiality. Then there were fair-sized rodents, or so Aidan assumed; he couldn’t actually differentiate between most mammal species. Then he found Triumph’s Pull, a few deer, and maybe even a coyote.
“All right,” he breathed and braced himself. The girl’s Pull wasn’t easy now to navigate around, but he was not looking to Call anything. He was looking to Summon.
He held back his cache of supplies in Nothingness, things he did not want to Summon at the moment, and attempted to find his family. If he could Dismiss himself, surely he could Dismiss and Summon others. His family might be in Nothingness this very moment, and all he needed to do was bring them back. But he’d tried this many times, and no matter how hard he stretched and strained, all he produced was sweat.
This time proved to be no different. Aidan sat and focused as hard as he could, trying to draw his mother, father, and Sam out of the abyss.
“Useless,” he shouted after an hour, spittle flying from his mouth. His eyes opened as neighboring birds took flight. Disgusted with himself, Aidan hung his head and tried to bring his emotions back under control. He drew in deep breaths and let them out slowly.
His heart continued to race, and it felt as though he had run a mile through waist-deep mud. But he stumbled to his feet and made his way back to camp, where he could smell a fire and the beginnings of something cooking. He sniffed outside of the small clearing, and wondered at what he smelled and saw. Meat? Where had she found meat? And why hadn’t she run away? Not that he wanted her to, but this whole situation was as odd as it was vexing.
He spied her then, emerging from the woods across the way. Her hands were bright red, as if coated in blood. “Are you hurt?” he called out.
Even from this distance, he could see the glower on her face. “’Course not.”
The Goblets Immortal Page 5