The Goblets Immortal

by Beth Overmyer

  He scowled. “You think I didn’t try that?”

  She held up a hand to waylay his words. “All right. You must find out what they are and what their weakness is. Goblins cannot abide light…. Hmm. Whatever scared them off must be— Ah, most assuredly, you are dealing with nymphs.”

  Aidan rubbed his temples. “And how do I fight them?”

  Meraude sighed. “If you cannot use your abilities, then I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay where you are until I free you.”

  That didn’t sound like a good idea. “Couldn’t you get inside one of their dreams?”

  She raised her eyebrows at this. “Pardon? I don’t follow.”

  “You could appear to them and tell them to let us go….”

  “Us?”

  It was Aidan’s turn to be confused. Surely he’d mentioned his traveling companion before. “I met up with someone.” He did not like the look she was giving him; it was displeased and bordering on scandalized, so he added, “We’ll be parting ways soon,” even though he knew there was no possibility of that.

  That brought the smile back to Meraude’s face. “All right. Let me answer your question: I cannot appear to just anyone.”

  “But how, then—”

  She held up a hand. “And nymphs don’t dream. Even if they were to dream, what weight would my words hold with them?”

  Aidan shrugged. Isaac the Roma’s words were still in the back of his mind. Was it true that Meraude slaughtered magical things? Was he a fool allowing this dream conversation go on? Not that he had much choice. Maybe he should be more careful what information he let slip his lips.

  The woman’s dark eyes were appraising. “Lord Ingledark, let me be clear. I am trying to help you.”

  “I know.”

  “Then you’ll have to trust me and stay put with these woodland creatures, all right? No heroics, no escape attempts. Just stay put. Understand?”

  Well, that was insulting to his intelligence. Aidan had no intention of staying put and waiting for some possibly evil mage to free them. Nonetheless, he feigned a thoughtful look and finally nodded. “As you wish.”

  That seemed to satisfy Meraude, for she didn’t press the matter. “I suggest that if you have anything to say to me, you say it now.”

  Aidan shook his head. “I can think of nothing else to say.”

  Meraude smirked. “How about your location?”

  “I don’t know where we are. The nymphs—”

  “Where were you when the goblins attacked?”

  That made Aidan’s stomach drop. How best to lie? “If I recall correctly, we were still somewhere on the road to Wontworth.” There, the truth but not the truth. They’d been turned around and had wandered in the wrong direction for several miles.

  Aidan began to shake and his face stung.

  “It would seem someone’s trying to rouse you. I suggest you be roused.”

  The scene dissolved and Aidan was nearly blinded as he returned to reality from his dreaming state. “Ugh.” His eyes closed again and he listened. There was lively chatter in the near distance, many fair voices singing and making merry. He heard the crackling of a fire, felt its warmth, and shifted slightly.

  Something slapped him in the face again. “Sir!”

  Aidan never thought he’d be so relieved to hear a woman’s voice in his life. He opened his eyes just as her foot connected with his forehead.

  “Ouch!”

  “Shh! Sorry…sorry.”

  Stars swam before his eyes as he tried to focus on her. “Where are we? Wh— Ow. What happened?”

  “Some ruddy awful beasts have got us.”

  He squinted and looked away from Slaíne. They were in a small cave dug out beneath a nest of tree roots. She was chained to an iron pillar. He was free. And the so-called ‘awful beasts’ that had captured them were beautiful creatures of multicolored light. Had she not been in chains and he with a sore head, he might have had a merry laugh at her odd view of things.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Nah,” she said as he returned his attention to her. “Can you do anything about these?” Slaíne tugged at the iron chains, which clanked miserably.

  Aidan shook his head. “No. I’ve no abilities with that metal.”

  “Figured that would be the case. But have you any luck with picking locks?”

  Aidan crawled over to her, his head scraping the roof of their enclosure. He studied the chains. He whistled.

  “What?”

  “You’ve got some fine bruises.”

  She snorted. “Can you pick the lock?”

  Aidan heaved a great sigh. “Maybe if I had something to pick with that won’t break off inside the mechanism.” Something was bothering him. He felt for Pulls, and knew at once what the source of his irritation was. Slaíne’s Pull was as strong as ever; he’d felt that even in his queer dream. But as for the numerous nymphs surrounding them and their supplies? Nothing. He could not feel their wagons, their tables heavily laden with food and drink, their beds, their blankets. It was almost as if they were figments of a dream. “Blast.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t feel anything of theirs.”

  Slaíne raised her eyebrows and then frowned. “Explain.”

  Aidan launched into a short explanation about how his ability worked, how he could feel objects’ Pulls, how he couldn’t really feel iron, and how everything in the nymph’s camp was insubstantial, except maybe the wood that kept their fires going. “It’s almost like nothing here is real.”

  “Oh, it’s real.” Slaíne gave her bonds a tug to illustrate the point. With a grunt she stopped. Her wrists were now bleeding, indicating she’d been working on getting free for a while. “Do you have any weapons on you?”

  Aidan felt for his cache in Nothingness, but to his surprise and horror, everything was gone. It wasn’t that he enjoyed his abilities. They were useful and served a purpose when they had to. But he’d become reliant on them. Too reliant. And with nothing in Nothingness, his hopes of escaping these fiends looked slim. “My weapons are missing.”

  Slaíne bit her lower lip. “Well, at least they left us alive, yeah?”

  That might be good enough for her, but Aidan was not used to being bound to something or someone. Freedom was another thing he’d taken for granted, it would seem. Again he looked at her wrists and frowned. “Why are you chained up, and I’m free to move about?”

  “Dunno,” she said a little too quickly, without quite meeting his gaze.

  The music outside their enclosure took a wilder turn, and shrieks of laughter filled the air, causing Aidan’s hairs to stand on end. He narrowed his eyes at Slaíne. That is when he noticed the caked blood on her fingernails. He smirked. “I assume the blood I’m seeing isn’t all yours?”

  Nonchalant, she shrugged. “Might’ve done.”

  “So, they can be wounded.”

  Slaíne laughed without humor. “’Course they can. All livin’ things can. But these creatures heal real fast.”

  Aidan swore. If he had nothing to Summon and nothing to Call, and if he couldn’t do much damage to their captors, what was left to be done? He could make a break for it himself, but that would mean leaving the girl behind, which was not a gentlemanly thing to do, so he at once dismissed the idea.

  “We need to find out what they are.”

  “Hmm?”

  “I said we need to find out what they are. Every being has a weakness.” She paused to sniff. “We gotta find theirs and take advantage.”

  Aidan raised his eyebrows at her. “What do you know of nymphs?”

  If Slaíne wondered how he knew what they were, she didn’t let on. “Well, they like light, I s’pose.”

  Aidan nodded. “It would seem they were made of light, from what I’ve seen of them.” He scratched
his chin. “We aren’t being guarded very closely.”

  “Arrogance, ya think?”

  He shrugged. “Possibly.”

  The music slowed to an eerie waltz, and the talking all but ceased. Perhaps it was foolish, the thoughts Aidan was thinking; perhaps his impulse was wrong. Whatever the case, he knew he had to explore the camp and see what they had been snatched up into. “I’ll return shortly.” He crawled toward the mouth of their enclosure, only to receive a kick in the trousers. “What?”

  There was a pause. “Be – be careful.”

  Aidan smiled to himself and went on his way, leaving the comfort of her Pull behind. It tugged at him frantically as he left her, but he ignored it as best he could and went to listen and observe.

  The few beings he saw were translucent when he looked at them full-on, but appeared to be of no substance when he squinted or looked at them from the corner of his eye. To his relief and frustration, they ignored him. He must not appear to be a threat.

  As he walked, Aidan continued to feel for Pulls, and continued to feel very little. He tried Calling a jug of water to himself, and nothing happened. The farther he walked around tables and beds and blankets, the more he understood about their captors. They were creatures of comfort. They must want for nothing. And, as far as he could see, they carried no weapons, meaning they were arrogant, ignorant, or relied on magic or some other skill to defend themselves. As far as how many of them there were: now, that was a perplexing problem. Though he’d seen around a dozen of the translucent beings, he heard many more, and the closer he traveled to the bonfires, the more he could see. There had to be at least one hundred of them dancing around and through the flames, which seemed to give them more substance. Aidan wondered what this could mean, but stored that problem away for later. He turned and went in the opposite direction. There were more bonfires and more dancing nymphs. It was then that he realized that he and Slaíne were ringed in.

  With a muttered oath, he took to pacing, stopping only when he realized he might draw unwanted attention to himself. Perhaps he would not have been so irritable if he were not so thirsty. As it was, his throat was raw and dry, as if he’d been eating ash, and he could produce no saliva to swallow. And as soon as he realized the extent of his thirst, the more intense it became. Without a second thought, he approached one of the food-laden tables and snatched up a jug. It was an odd sensation, feeling it in his hand without feeling its Pull in his gut. It didn’t matter. He put his mouth to the vessel and drank deeply of the coldest, sweetest water he’d ever tasted.

  “Mm,” he said, setting the empty jug aside. Shame hit him that he hadn’t saved any for Slaíne. Flushed, he found another pitcher and brought it back to where she was waiting.

  “What’d you find out?” she asked as he ducked back into the enclosure. Before he could answer, she frowned at him. “What’ve you got?”

  He grinned. The water which had gone down cold was spreading warmth throughout his limbs, making him happier than he had been in ages. “Here, drink some.” He went to put it to her lips, but she jerked her head away.

  “What’re you thinkin’?” she said. “Could be poison.”

  That made Aidan laugh. “Slaíne, it’s fine. You’re over-scrupulous, I am sure. Have just a taste.” He tried again, and this time managed to get it to her mouth.

  The girl mashed her lips closed, causing the liquid to pour down her front, and she didn’t seem to breathe again until he pulled the jug away. “You look – red.”

  “Do I?” He did feel rather warm, but it was nothing to grow alarmed about. Aidan undid his collar, letting his shirt gape open. Still he felt as though on fire. Well, that would not do. Flushed and lightheaded, Aidan pulled the entire garment over his head and cast it aside. Slaíne cleared her throat, and he looked at her sideways. “Is something wrong?”

  She rolled her eyes and looked away.

  Aidan laughed. True, on any normal day, he would hold to decorum. He was, after all, a gentleman, and Slaíne, like anyone, deserved respect. But today…something had changed. What was it?

  “Did ya find anything out?”

  Slaíne’s voice sent a burning jolt through Aidan’s body, and he jerked to attention. “Say that again,” he said without looking at her. His whole being thrummed, aware of her, her Pull, where she was situated. If he wanted, he could reach out his hand and….

  “I said, did ya find anything?”

  Something inside of Aidan snapped. Or broke loose. He let the pieces go with a sigh, and embraced his feelings with a feral pleasure. Aidan turned to her. “What do you believe of fate?”

  “Fate?”

  He moved in closer. “Destiny.”

  For a moment, Slaíne seemed ready to laugh. But something in his declaration must have alerted her to the fact that he was serious. Her brow furrowed. “Are you drunk or somethin’?”

  It was his turn to laugh and he did. Aidan went from giddy and lightheaded to profoundly absorbed with the sight of her lips in the span of three seconds’ time. He stared at those two rosy gems, the desire to do something roiling through his being. What was he feeling? There must be a name for it. And yet, as he took her face in his hands, he could not name it, nor did he care.

  “What’re you doing?” Her voice was thin; Aidan held on to the sound in his mind as he brought his lips to hers. They were soft, supple, warm. He moaned into her open mouth.

  She bit him.

  He grinned against her touch, even as she drew blood. Aidan deepened the kiss, his hands tangling in her hair, stroking her face, wishing and willing her to kiss him back. She did not.

  His heart took off at a mad pace, and the hands which had held her face dared to wander further. Aidan wondered at himself as he took her by the waist and took to kissing her throat. This was unexpected. Pleasant beyond words, but unexpected.

  “What’re you doing?” she repeated, her words icy needles that almost brought Aidan back to his senses. Almost. When he didn’t pause nor come up for air, she spat at him. “Get off!”

  Somewhere, the music hit a sour note and voices were raised in higher laughter. But Aidan didn’t care about them. Wounded, he peered up at her. What had he done wrong?

  “Get off,” she repeated.

  Perhaps he was a fool, but Aidan felt no desire to move just then, even as he began to wonder if he had lost his senses. Something about this whole thing just felt right. Slaíne, on the other hand, did not seem to share that sentiment.

  “You’ll ruin it.”

  “No,” he protested, guilt clenching his gut. “Please don’t say that.”

  She was crying now, great big tears running down her pale face. “I don’ know what’s gotten into you, sir.” She jerked away as he leaned in again, hoping to appease her. “Oh, you’ll ruin it all. Don’t. Get off. Get away from me.” With each word, her voice rose in pitch until she was nearly screaming like a mad woman.

  Sad that he had offended her apparently, Aidan pulled away, lowered his gaze, and moved off to the other side of the enclosure. And just like that, he was hit with a wave of vertigo, and crawled out into the open, vomiting.

  Chapter Seven

  Four hours onward – though it could’ve been more – Aidan lay outside the enclosure, fit to do nothing but doze, as whatever he had drunk still tormented his body. His head ached. His stomach roiled. Every nerve in his body seemed to fire and misfire. Every muscle convulsed now and then, making voluntary movement impractical, if not impossible.

  And for that time, Slaíne said nothing. Not that Aidan blamed her. What had he been thinking, making such advances? It was the water he’d drunk. It had to be. That couldn’t have been him kissing the girl of his own volition…could it? On and off he warred with his needs and wants, half-wanting to repeat his actions, half-wanting to repent. He would have to apologize when he felt himself again, that was a given. But was he really
sorry?

  Aidan turned the sentiment over in his mind, and the findings startled him. He’d enjoyed the experience. In fact, he still enjoyed the memory, except for inflicting obvious pain. “I’m an idiot,” he groaned audibly, uncaring as to whether she’d heard him or not. This was all pure nonsense. A distraction. It mattered not, and he would do well to push these foolish urges aside.

  By the time the sun should have been setting, the land surrounding them remained as bright as day. Aidan felt more himself with each passing hour, but he was still weak in more ways than one.

  At last he was able to pull himself to his knees with a shiver. Aidan dragged himself back to the enclosure, unsurprised to find Slaíne asleep and snoring. His grimace turned into a grin, and he fought himself as he put his shirt back on, not bothering with his collar. Their captors had made no contact with them, which was a suspicious sign. Something told Aidan they were being watched and perhaps listened to; for what purpose, he could only guess. Fine. If they wished to watch, Aidan would watch as well. He would return to their midst and see what intelligence he might be able to gather – but this time, he would avoid their food and drink. He grimaced at the mere thought.

  Slaíne stirred.

  Aidan froze. This was going to be awkward, whenever it happened, so he might as well get it over with. “Slaíne?”

  Her spine went rigid, and her steely eyes locked on to his. “Get it out of your system?”

  He paused. What could she mean by that? Did she think that he had acted of his own free will?

  She rolled her eyes. “I meant the water.”

  “I’m sorry. I treated you poorly.” He wondered at his own voice, so mechanical at the confession of such an offense. One might think him insincere or insensible to the pain he had caused. Aidan opened his mouth to offer a more heartfelt apology, but Slaíne laughed. He looked at her, bemused.

  “Don’t you look at me like that. Drinkin’ strange water, my lands. How much you drink?”

  Aidan flushed. “Enough.”

  The girl snorted. “Did you find a way out of here?”