The Goblets Immortal

by Beth Overmyer

  “I think I like you, Lord Ingledark.” She circled, appraising him. “Hmm. Yes, I think I owe you a favor for your services.”

  Aidan’s voice returned to him. “What services? I’m afraid I haven’t agreed to anything, and even if I had, I have no idea where this Warring Goblet is.”

  “You needn’t worry about that one. My servant will collect it. No, what you need to concern yourself with is the Questing Goblet.”

  “My lady?”

  “It should be buried in old Cedric’s grave. Unfortunately, I cannot be allowed the honor of retrieving it.” He was about to protest, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. “For your services, I have certain gifts within my means to deliver unto you your heart’s desire.”

  What did she know of his heart’s desire? This was some nonsense dream. It was time to wake up.

  “When you wake, do not speak of this to anyone. Trust no one, Lord Ingledark. The Questing Goblet is your job alone. Retrieve it and I will bring them back.”

  Aidan scoffed. “You mean my family, I assume. You’ll bring my family back? Even I cannot do that.”

  She practically beamed at that. “Because you know not where they are.”

  “But—”

  “Disregard me and my request, and I will make certain of your death. Please me, and you will be reunited with those you have lost. Go now. I grow weary.”

  “Wait, I don’t understand….” Aidan looked down on his shoulder, where a dove had alighted. Its weight was comforting, even though it dug its clawed feet into his flesh. That is when he opened his eyes, leaving Meraude and the throne room behind.

  Chapter Five

  “Sir, wake up. Sir?”

  Aidan blinked his eyes rapidly, the dream still burned into his vision. Such light, such beauty. Gone. All of it, except for the pressure on his shoulder. He looked up, and it was no dove perched on him, but a freckle-riddled hand.

  “Sir, you need to wake up.”

  He recognized the voice but couldn’t place it. “Meraude?”

  “Does I have to do everything myself?” the girl’s voice asked.

  Aidan opened his eyes in time to have his face slapped good and hard. “Take care!” he said, flailing and stumbling to his feet. His eyes locked on Slaíne’s fearful ones, and he let out a great huff of air. “I’m sorry. Slaíne, I’m not going to hurt you. You – you startled me, that’s all.” Something was wrong. His gaze wandered about in the darkness. Darkness? “Why did you wake me?”

  “Your horse ran off.”

  He went to grab her by the shoulders to steady himself, but decided against it. “When?”

  “Moments ago. I tried wakin’ you before. He – he whinnied and cantered off.” She lowered her gaze. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  Aidan swore. Closing his eyes, he felt for Triumph’s Pull. To his annoyance, he felt only Slaíne’s, and for whatever reason, it had grown stronger overnight. “Could you maybe try standing over there for a minute?”

  Brow furrowed, the girl took a step around the dying embers and stood on the other side. She looked at him, expectant and confused. “That better, sir?”

  No, it wasn’t. Not at all. Aidan shook his head and rubbed his temples. “Walk away.”

  “Where?”

  “Into the woods a ways. I’ll let you know when to stop.” Perhaps putting her at a distance would give him a better sense of the other Pulls around him.

  But the girl wasn’t moving and didn’t seem ready to. If anything, she seemed terrified. “How far?”

  They didn’t have time for this. Triumph had never wandered far, but there was a first time for everything. “Stay put.” Aidan turned and ran off into the woods.

  “Don’t, sir!” she screeched.

  The sound froze him to the core. It was the sound wild animals made when in pain. He turned around to face her, and found that she was moving toward him. “What are you doing? What’s wrong?”

  “The curse, sir.”

  “Curse?”

  She sighed, exasperated. “The curse. The one that was put on me.”

  Aidan did not believe in curses. Bad luck, for certain, but cursing was for wizards, and there was no such thing as they anymore. “I need you to stay where you are. That is an order.” He gave her a small smile of reassurance. “I won’t go far. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

  Her face paled further in the moonlight, but she mashed her lips together and nodded once. “All right.”

  Without another interruption, Aidan took off into the semi-darkness, feeling for Pulls. He felt trees, grass, all minor life forms that hardly tugged at him at all. What was wrong with him? It was as if his ability had left, or…. Iron. There must be an iron mine nearby or something. Well, he wasn’t about to go searching for one in the dark. It was too dangerous. In trouble or not, Triumph would have to wait ’til morning, as much as Aidan hated the thought. He turned around and made his way back to camp.

  He’d gone farther than he’d thought, and the way became difficult as the moon disappeared behind a bank of clouds. Plunged into darkness, Aidan walked as a blind man, hands outstretched before him to keep branches and bracken out of his face. “There’s no finding him tonight,” he said as he re-entered the camp. “It’s too dangerous.” Aidan paused.

  There, where she’d been standing minutes before, the girl was sprawled out on the ground, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

  “Looks like I’ll be keeping watch now.” And judging by the moon’s position in the sky, that would be another hour or two. Day would break soon enough. She could sleep.

  * * *

  Aidan remained vigilant throughout the night. He listened for sounds of his steed’s return, but was met only with the silent keening of insects and the occasional hoot and howl of other wildlife.

  He thought of his dream, wondering what he ought to do. Meraude had made no subtle allusion to her intents: if he did not provide her with the Goblets Immortal, life was going to get worse for him. But if he helped her…. Could she really bring his family back, as she so claimed?

  Find the Questing Goblet, the mage had said before Slaíne woke him. There might have been something else, but the more he tried to grasp at the details, the hazier the memory became. Maybe his mind had conjured images and promises of things he wanted, rather than images of things that were. He’d been thinking and speaking of Meraude earlier, hadn’t he? Surely it was the power of suggestion influencing his sleeping mind.

  And yet Aidan knew he had a poor imagination. To invent something so particular as the shape of the room, the woman and her fiery eyes, the unclaimed throne…it did not feel right. Something either was changing inside him – which, at the age of two and thirty, was ridiculous – or he really had been transported in his sleep to a different place and had conversed with this elusive witch. He looked at the girl. Perhaps he should share what knowledge he had with her. That, plus some persuasion, might convince her to open up.

  Before dawn’s breaking, the air grew unbearably cold, and he was forced to build up the fire again, which he’d been feeding handfuls of dry grass since waking. Where had Triumph gone to? Aidan feared he was right about the iron mine. If that blasted horse had fallen into anything, there would be no rescuing him.

  Shuddering, he looked over at the girl. That can’t be comfortable, he thought, seeing her arms and legs turned out at odd angles. He clambered to his feet and, seeing that she was shivering, threw his cloak over her small form.

  When the sun overcame the horizon entirely, he tapped Slaíne with his boot. “Girl. Are you awake?” With care, he shook her by the shoulder, but she did not wake at first. “Slaíne, will you not help me find my steed?”

  Her eyes blinked open a crack. “How long I been alseep?” Shaking, she sat up, and Aidan’s cloak fell to her lap. She looked him full on in the face, and it was startling to observ
e that a blood vessel had burst, making the white of her left eye crimson.

  “Are you all right?” He scarcely could wait for her answer; he needed to find Triumph, the poor beast.

  Slaíne started to stand and crumpled to the ground. “I’m fine.” Her voice was rather soft. “I’ll be up and about presently.”

  Wasting not another moment, Aidan ran off into the woods surrounding their alcove, feeling for Pulls. When there were none significant to be found, Aidan closed his eyes and felt for the absence of things. His senses slid over the ground, probing and grasping at what could not be grasped. All the while he listened. Birds. Blasted birds twittering in the sky, fouling his mood further. He pushed his explorations deeper and wider. Nothing. No absences, no possibility of an iron mine, no Triumph.

  He opened his eyes. He hadn’t gone nearly as far as he’d done the night before, but was there a point? Surely the horse—

  Aidan started. There, leading toward his camp, were hoof prints in the soil…clustered with another set of strange ones. He followed them back to camp.

  “Any sign of—” She stopped herself when their eyes locked.

  “Do you know which way he went?” Aidan started off in the opposite direction that he had just explored, and he could feel from her Pull that she was trying to keep pace with him.

  “Sir, please wait. I ain’t not meself again just yet.”

  Without looking back, he frowned. “How’s that?”

  She seemed unwilling to speak at first, and when she did, it came out more of a croak. “The curse, sir.”

  Aidan held up a hand for her to stop. “You may return to camp.” The smell had just met his nostrils; no woman should be forced to witness what was downwind of their fire. “Please return at once.” It was all he could do to keep his voice from breaking on the words. He hoped he was wrong. If he were a religious man, he’d be praying that he was wrong. “Go back.”

  Slaíne ignored that and continued her approach.

  Handkerchief drawn, he looked back over his shoulder and handed her the cloth. “You’re going to need this, then.” He Summoned the sword he had taken from her and, parting a cluster of branches, stepped toward the source of the stench.

  What he saw had not been the sore sight he’d expected, though it was indeed a disgusting mess. The mangled corpse of a sun-rotting goblin littered their path. Limbs here, heart there, it was a gruesome sight. But there was no sign of Triumph, other than hoof prints that grew fainter and finally disappeared into nowhere.

  “Sir.”

  Aidan turned to face Slaíne. “What is it?”

  “There was a struggle here, if you don’t mind me sayin’.” She pointed at the ground a stone’s throw from where she stood. “The goblin’s body was dragged.” She took a few steps into a heavily wooded area, and emerged hauling a saddle.

  Aidan groaned. “Anything else over there?” He felt for Pulls. There was nothing. But how could he not feel the goblin’s? They must have none.

  Slaíne frowned at him as she handed over the saddle. “There’s no blood on the girth or any part of the saddle really.” Slaíne bit her lower lip.

  “Go on.”

  “Looks like they took your steed alive, sir. Goblins, they’re good at hypnotizin’ creatures. I’ve seen it done before.” She shuddered, and Aidan began to wonder at her. Who went around watching goblins?

  She seemed to have read his thoughts. “Elves are cousins to goblins. I’m lucky the four didn’t let them eat me.”

  Aidan sighed. “And I’ll be lucky if they don’t eat my horse.” He Dismissed the saddle and the sword. “Well, it looks like we’ll be on foot now. And we’d best hurry. If there are goblins in these parts, I don’t want to meet them in the dark.”

  With a curt nod, Slaíne handed him back his handkerchief. She hadn’t even flinched at the smell, which made Aidan’s stomach turn. “We won’t make it far on foot.”

  “I’ll be picking up another steed in Wontworth.”

  She smirked at him. “So that is where we’re headed.”

  Aidan opened his mouth to deny it, but he hadn’t the heart or energy. His horse was gone, and they had a rough journey ahead of them.

  * * *

  Their going was slow. The girl still claimed some nonsense of a curse was to blame, but wouldn’t go into details. Aidan wondered if she’d had a worse beating from the elves than he’d first thought, but he said nothing. The common mood between them was cordial enough, and he did not wish to bring it crashing down around their ears if he could help it.

  They’d finished their food rations the previous night. That was a worry. Some berries were in season, but none were edible. After a rough hike through six miles of bracken, their mutual amiability had dissolved into a cross silence. They needed to exert themselves, to pick up their speed if they were to reach the town before nightfall. But she was struggling to keep pace with him. She fell twice, injuring nothing. And as the sun had reached its highest, the sweat-drenched travelers decided to rest and refresh themselves with a few sips of water.

  But the water did not refresh. If anything, it made Aidan want more, and he knew the girl felt the same way, though she said nothing of it. He feared this had been a poor trade for her. She’d gone from living in peace with four evil elves to living in thirst with…. He couldn’t think. There would be no going further until they’d had a decent rest.

  Stomach snarling like some ferocious beast, Aidan leaned against the trunk of a large oak. A dreadful thought came to him: in their haste to depart that morning, and in the confusion of losing Triumph, he’d got them turned around. They were headed too far southwest. Their course would need to be corrected, costing them an additional ten miles. No wonder they hadn’t seen any signs of civilization. “I am an utter fool.”

  Slaíne, who was resting a few feet off on a patch of crabgrass, lifted her head. “Sir?”

  Aidan opened his mouth but hesitated. It wouldn’t do to worry her. “I should have gone after Triumph as soon as he went missing.”

  He half-expected her to give some encouragement that he’d done the right thing, but it would seem that the girl had fallen asleep.

  Though the sun continued to beat down on them, the air held a chill, and the clothes that clung to his body with sweat now made him shiver. He Summoned his cloak and covered up. With nothing else to do but rest, Aidan reached out and felt for Pulls. There was no one within his reach…at least, as far as he could tell. It wasn’t getting any easier to ignore the girl’s Pull, and he was starting to wonder why. He reached out tentatively and closed his eyes. Concentrating with all his might, he opened his eyes, latched onto her Pull and tugged against it.

  Screeching in surprise or pain, Slaíne shot toward Aidan like an arrow, landing at his feet. Well, that was new.

  She glared up at him. “What’d you go and do that for?”

  Aidan fought a grin. He hadn’t quite meant to do it, didn’t think it would work, but for the first time since his abilities had developed, he’d managed to Call another living being. This could be the answer he needed to whether or not he’d ever see his family again. “You’re all right, then?”

  “What ruddy sort of question is that? ’Course I’m all right.” Grumbling still, she stumbled to her feet and returned to her place of rest. There, she flopped back down, and at once began to snore again.

  Aidan looked at her amazed for a while. Was this an everyday occurrence to her? She must not know how his abilities worked, but why should she? But she knows of the Goblets, he reasoned. She must know something of my condition. He was about to wake her again, but thought better of it. It was obvious she did not care for him one jot, not as a friend nor as an ally. Why would she trade information? Would it be wise for him to say anything? There was only one way to find out, and he was no coward. He began. “Girl, wake up.”

  She let out an almigh
ty, earth-shaking snort and rolled over onto her side to face him. Her face was dirt-smudged and cross, and she looked positively ready to lose her temper. “What?”

  Only a mite taken aback, Aidan started in. “I didn’t know I could do that.” The bait having been set, he waited for her to grasp it. But the minutes wore on, and she said nothing.

  Her eyes were slits, and it would seem that he was in danger of losing her to sleep again. It was time to try a different tack.

  “Please, Slaíne, if you know anything about my condition, I would be most grateful if you told me.”

  The girl laughed, but, upon looking into his eyes, she stopped. Her expression became thoughtful. At last, she spoke. “If I were to tell you….” She sat up and propped her head on one hand. “How are you at keeping secrets that can get a body tortured and killed?”

  Aidan stared deep into her eyes, as if he could Call the secrets from their depths. “I won’t speak a word of what you tell me to anyone.”

  “Not to your family?”

  “I have none,” he said.

  She raised her eyebrows and rose to a sitting position. “Oh. Me neither.” She scratched the back of her neck, a nervous gesture. “Friends?”

  Aidan didn’t blink. “I have no need for them.”

  If he hadn’t known better, he would say there was approval in her eyes. Whatever the case, she nodded and looked off into the distance. “All right. I will tell you some of what I know, Mr. Aidan. But I want somethin’ in exchange.”

  He braced himself. “Name it.”

  She smirked. “I want my sword back.”

  “For what end?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  Aidan glowered. “If you mean to kill me with it, then it really is my business.”

  Slaíne smiled with her teeth this time, threw her head back and laughed. It was a spritely sound, one that he was sure he’d never heard the likes of before. It made the hairs on his arms stand on end, and goose-skin break out all over. Too soon, her laughter ended, and her expression grew very serious. “No, I can’t kill you. You’re quite safe.”