“Move away from the window,” Aidan snapped.
The maddening girl, she threw the windows open and perched one foot on the window seat. The cries were no longer distant. It would be wise of them to blow out the light and pretend the room was vacant, lest they be bothered. The girl gave him a knowing look, but didn’t move.
“Away from there! They’ll see you!” Aidan grimaced as he threw the curtains closed. “This isn’t a game. You could die.”
Of all things, Slaíne laughed, and not for the first time was Aidan dubious of her sanity. “Pleasure knowin’ you, then.” And with that said, she leapt from the window and into the dark night.
“Slaine!” Aidan shouted. He could not hear her body hit the ground over the din of shouts and metal on metal, nor could he see her, not in the dimness. For a terrifying second, he thought of jumping out after her, but what good would it do for both of them to have shattered bones…or worse? With a shudder, Aidan tore from the room. He thundered down the stairs, all the while entertaining dark thoughts. Her Pull remained strong; was it that she lived, or would her corpse prove just as compelling?
Moments raced past like horses, and after battling through a barricade consisting entirely of apple crates, Aidan found himself crouching on the front stoop. He stilled his breathing for a moment, closed his eyes and felt for Pulls. The important, most pressing one was mere feet away. As he began to follow it, he realized that the Pull was slackening at an alarming rate.
The night was pitched into shrieks and black cries, and for all the good his eyes did him, he felt her seconds before she bowled him over.
“Oomph.”
“Shh!” she hissed, crawling off his prone form.
Aidan righted himself into a more dignified crouch, squinting in the night so that he might better observe her state. “How did you— Are you hurt?”
She repeated her previous request for silence, but broke it herself. “I don’t see nothing.”
The night flared into a bowl of crimson glow, a wreath of smoke kicking up in the breeze as the scent of burning wood assailed Aidan’s nostrils.
“At least we can see now.”
“They’re torching the town, Slaíne.”
Slaíne nodded but with a shrug said, “Well, gotta take our blessings where we canst get ’em.” They were both on their feet, racing toward the flames.
Aidan did not think it would affect him so, the sight of a building being reduced to ash. But his shoulder prickled as badly as his conscience, and he was irresistibly drawn into a half-vision, one that overlaid what he saw before him. A barn, burning.
Ten-year-old Aidan ran for the doors, thrust them open, only to be slammed with a fist of smoke. Coughing and wheezing, he managed to call out, “Mother? Father? Sam?”
No response.
Mind spinning, Aidan ran back down to the creek.
“Sir?” said Slaine, her figure blurring before his eyes.
Aidan shook his head. Where was he? Oh, yes. The wraiths. Putting out a fire. He needed water.
A rock leapt from the creek, striking him in the shoulder. His own voice was shrill as the spot throbbed painfully.
“Sir, stop. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”
He shook his head to clear the cobwebs from his mind. “Memories. They’re just memories.”
Slaíne gripped him as he started to sway on the spot. The screams were piercing, and they were close. So many voices crying out for blood.
“Sir, now you’re hurtin’ me.”
Fighting a rising panic and nausea, Aidan blinked his eyes several times in quick succession, hoping to see straight. His vision cleared somewhat. He found himself Calling Slaíne. They stood now, hip to hip, elbow to elbow, as two welded together. At once he Released her, and they both stumbled, regained their footing, and followed the screams and the heat.
Up to this point, they hadn’t met any hostile forces. Now, rounding the dressmaker’s shop, Aidan sensed and saw at least a dozen Pulls. They were cloaked in dark brown, the fabric hanging loosely on their apparently lanky frames.
Aidan stopped Slaíne before she could run into them. Perhaps her eyes were not as good as his, or perhaps he sensed more than he saw.
The creatures saw them now. Some held torches, others brandished swords. Aidan felt for the Pull of their weapons. No iron. Copper, tin. Children’s toys. No, they were not to be worried about. The fire, on the other hand, was a problem.
Aidan Dismissed six swords within the span of three seconds, then went for the torches. One, two, three, four. He Dismissed them all, and now all the light came from the burning building.
The wraiths were surprised, shrieking as their hands suddenly fell empty. Soon, however, they recovered their wits, but Aidan was already upon them. With some difficulty concentrating, Aidan Summoned Slaíne’s silver sword. He dispatched two of the wraiths with four mighty strokes. Slaíne, he could sense, was moving toward the burning building.
Faced with the challenge of an armed man whilst possessing no arms themselves, the wraiths screamed and fled, tripping over the hems on their long robes as they went.
Aidan looked for a moment down at the two he had slain. He flicked back the first one’s hood with the tip of his sword and found an ordinary man, his face a mask of death. Aidan swore. “Slaíne. Get away from there. You’re going to burn yourself.”
But Slaíne wasn’t listening. Her attention was focused on the third story of the building, whence came the shrill cries of a woman. The building was burning and collapsing around her as she moved onto the window’s ledge. She held a small child in her arms.
Aidan’s chest tightened. They were far too high for him to climb to them in time, even if he possessed a ladder. And the wraiths were returning in numbers. Cursing, he positioned himself beneath the woman in hopes of catching the child.
Slaíne was already on the move. She stepped back several paces and then charged at the building. Instead of running into the brick siding, the girl soared high into the air, scarcely touching the wall in her ascent. In seconds it was over. Slaíne secured the babe and shot back down to earth, slowing a split second before she would have hit the ground.
There was no time to take this miracle in before the mother in the window made her own desperate escape. Aidan followed her Pull as it came crashing to earth, and adjusted his position accordingly. The woman fell with a scream. Aidan’s knees buckled as her weight hit his arms, and his muscles burned and strained at the contact. Both Aidan and she collapsed onto the ground in a heap as the wraiths began to ring them in.
“My baby,” the woman gasped, snatching the infant and pushing her way through the wraiths, who didn’t seem interested in her.
“How did you do that?” Aidan shouted as he felt her back press against his. He Dismissed the weapons of more wraiths, but this time, only one or two fled. “Slaíne?”
“Can we first focus on not dying, sir?”
He shook himself out of a momentary stupor. “Can you get us out of this circle?”
“Nay, sir. I ain’t strong enough to carry us both.”
Aidan cursed. He felt for the wraiths’ Pulls as he slashed out at them. All of them had normal human Pulls; he could not get rid of them as easily as he could the goblins. There was a shriek and a grunt behind his back, and he could tell from the girl’s Pull that she had soared upward again.
“Too many of ’em,” she shouted.
Aidan grunted his agreement. Slaíne continued to drift out of the wraiths’ reach, while he lashed out at them. Meanwhile, the building continued to burn. He could Dismiss himself, but that would only buy him an hour. And there was Slaíne to think about. He did not know how her ability worked, so if he left her for Nothingness, there was no telling what sort of trouble he’d put her in.
The moments crawled by like years, but the cloaked men were pushed farther back as
he fought. And as the moonlight hit their eyes, he knew once and for all what they were really dealing with. “Bandits.”
“What?” There was another grunt behind him, and it was then that Aidan realized why no one had managed to grab him from behind: Slaíne, however she was doing what she was doing, was dropping as a deadweight onto their attackers, only to soar straight up again before they could touch her.
It was a good tactic, but she sounded tired. He was tired too. Sword or not, these mere mortals would soon deal a death blow. And it was a wonder: Why had all of them been drawn to Aidan and Slaíne? Aidan felt few Pulls beyond the vast circle enclosing them. And where was the rest of the town, the ones who had called him a coward when he had not fought alongside them the previous night?
He dispatched his twenty-first man and that is when he realized that he wasn’t only fighting bandits: they were fighting the town as well. “Slaíne,” he called over the screams. But why? “I’m going to clear a path for myself. Follow overhead.”
“How are you gonna do that, sir?” Another grunt followed by a curse and the tearing of cloth.
She had a fair question, to which he didn’t yet have the answer. He was, however, a gentleman – as much as he could be called one – and did not want to frighten or distract her. “Just trust me.”
“Blimey,” said the girl. “These aren’t no wraiths. These be town folk. For shame.” There was a sickening crunch as Aidan assumed her boot connected with someone’s nose. Before he could come up with a plan, shouts took up in the distance, breaking up the riot around him.
“The inn’s a-fire! The inn’s a-fire!” cried several women, their words being taken up by the town folk, who made up the vast majority of the mob. The wraiths had begun to flee, and the villagers left them for the inn with apparent reluctance. He Dismissed the sword and shouted at Slaíne, “To the woods!”
Slaíne didn’t need telling twice. She hit the ground running, and Aidan sprinted beside her. They ran into the night, Aidan feeling for Pulls that might lie ahead or behind. All was still; no one followed nor laid traps before them.
They ran ’til she could no more, and they took to walking, saving their breath until they were a good two miles away from the town. Then, Slaíne ventured to speak first. “High as I were, the inn were nay on fire.” Her voice was thin and breathless, and Aidan did not answer at first. He was more concerned as to why the villagers had turned on him, the only obvious answer being that they were afraid of Slaíne and himself. “Think it were the inn-keeper’s way of thankin’ ye?”
Aidan nodded, though he knew she could not make out the movement in the moonlight. He was more out of breath than Slaíne, and a cramp had formed in his side. He grabbed her arm to halt her, and leaned against a tree.
With a sigh, Slaíne collapsed to the wood’s floor.
Aidan Summoned a water skin for them both to partake of. Though his throat was raw and his mouth parched, Aidan passed the vessel to her first, and she drank deeply before passing it back to him with a muttered thanks.
After he’d gorged himself on water, emptying the skin, he took a moment to again catch his breath. “You noticed the town has turned against us.”
Slaíne sniffed. “Folks’re always skeered of what they don’t understand.”
Aidan could only nod and sigh. “Word of this will reach Dewhurst. We need to be clear of here before daybreak.” He flopped onto his back and felt for approaching Pulls. A handful had come nearer their current location, but no one had ventured within a mile. It was a good thing; Aidan was less than certain if he could fight another man, let alone run to the next town. And that was another thing: now that he was infamous, his description – and probably Slaíne’s – would be circulated far and wide; there would be no more staying in towns. As usual, Aidan would be skirting civilization…and perhaps reduced to poaching and worse.
“Blast. What if our friend did nay make it out of there all righ’?”
Aidan groaned. “Let her fend for herself.”
Slaíne tsked, and tapped his forearm with her boot. “She knows where we’re goin’. Could be tortured an’—”
“I know,” he said without heat. “We’ll have to plan our next moves carefully, though we move forward blindly.” He Dismissed the spent bladder and sat upright. “But we’ll discuss strategy when we’re safely away from here – and rested.” Two Pulls had crossed nearer, and Aidan rose. “We should leave now.”
“All right.” Slaíne accepted his hand, and he pulled her to her feet.
She was heavier than he had remembered, and it made Aidan wonder if she’d been using her strange ability to aid her before. He released her hand, more as an afterthought than anything. The pace he kept was slow yet steady, and Slaíne matched his steps evenly.
The wind hissed through the trees. Unseen beasts scurried in the treetops, making nary a sound, though Aidan was well aware of their presence. The Pulls behind them had paused, and Aidan took that as a signal that he and his companion should pick up their pace by a good measure. If anyone were examining the area where they had lain but twenty minutes before, the pursuers would make out their trail and be on them shortly.
Worry and a fast pace led to nothing. They stopped twice, once to drink more water, the second time to eat a handful of day-old bread each. It stuck to his throat and scraped on the way down, but Aidan only allowed himself and the girl one mouthful of the second bladder each. It wouldn’t do to run out of water at night. Not here. Not with danger so near.
Aidan laughed, a strange sound as Slaíne plopped down beneath a tree. “Glad I thought to Dismiss our things before things got crazy.”
“Our things?” she parroted. “I don’t nay have no things.” It wasn’t said with sarcasm or heat. She sounded confused. “Never did have no things.” Silence. “Ah, but I did have a dog once,” Slaíne said after a moment. Aidan looked at her, but was scarce able to make out her silhouette in the dark. “Well, it weren’t really my dog, but he liked me much better than the Four.” She let out a heavy breath. Her fingers snaked through the grass, back and forth, back and forth with a slight whisper, as if she were still petting the creature’s back. “Woke up from a real deep sleep one night. There were smoke and screams and curses. And all I could think about, where’s the dog?” She went silent here, and Aidan wondered if he should ask her what happened. As it turned out, there was no need. The girl offered the remainder of the story up herself. “Found him the next morning, burned to a crisp. Were a silly thing, but that’s what, you know, Jolted me.” By the light of a star, he caught the glint of the whites of her eyes, wide and glassy.
That caused Aidan to shiver. “Jolted you?” he repeated, by and by.
Slaíne didn’t reply. She didn’t need to.
Aidan drew his arms about himself, the spring breeze raking against his sweat-drenched clothing. “I take it that you have a history with the Goblets Immortal as well.” Releasing himself from his own embrace, he lowered himself to the ground and lay with his hands flat at his sides. “How—”
“Me mother drank from the Drifting Goblet. Must have. Or her mother before her did. It’s the same sad tale.” Another heavy sigh and she moved nearer. “Girl finds herself kidnapped by strange cult. ‘Drink of this’ says such and such a so-called friend. The girl, soon realizes she is with child. They knew before she, and it don’t matter how much she might object to a strange child, the Goblet she drinks from.” She paused in her narrative, and Aidan thought it appropriate to ask,
“And Meraude was one of the children from the Circle, too?”
Slaíne moved closer still and froze. “That is the queer thing of it. Nobody rightly knows, or won’t tell me. Could be either. There aren’t many of us left that she hasn’t slaughtered.”
“And yet here we are.”
“Here we are.”
Aidan wrinkled his brow in thought, and soon turned to
Slaíne, reaching in the dark that he might touch her and find relief from her nagging Pull. He gave up after a sore moment, and continued. “Why is it, do you think, that we have crossed each other’s paths? If there are so few of us, then what are the odds of our having met so?”
“Not good,” Slaíne admitted. They were silent after that, each lost in their own thoughts. And slowly, ever so slowly, Aidan found himself relaxing into sleep’s embrace, though the night was cold. It was irresistible. It was inevitable, as inevitable as breathing.
Chapter Thirteen
In this vision or whatever it might be – Aidan couldn’t decide what to call these mind-wanderings into the past – there was a woman. She was at once familiar and unfamiliar. The stranger paused before saying with a smile, “Well, Aidan. Are you not happy to see your auntie?”
Aidan rejoined that he did not recall being in possession of any such creature.
The woman, birdlike in visage and in dress – and giving off the air of one who would take flight at the slightest provocation – smiled her raptorial smile and said, “Why, nephew, you do not recall your father’s sister?” She tsked and fussed and, spreading her great arms out like bright plumage, demanded that he come forth and embrace his long-lost relative.
Aidan was not deceived; this woman was not a memory. He had never seen the likes of her in his life. Nor was this a dream, as his prickling shoulder warned him. “What are you?” he said coolly. “And don’t lie to me.”
The wing-like arms dropped, and with it the pretense. “Aidan, of course you would not know me. And you are right on one score – this is not a dream nor a memory. On another score, however, you find yourself quite incorrect. I am your aunt….”
Aidan’s mouth worked a few times before closing again. He shook his head. His father did not have a sister. He would have mentioned – should have mentioned.
The Goblets Immortal Page 20