The Goblets Immortal by Beth Overmyer (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

nay work on this one – at least, not entirely.”

Aidan tensed, preparing to Summon or Call whatever he needed to make an escape. But the four did not attack as he had expected. Instead, they sat there, contemplating something with ugly bewilderment on their faces. They remained like this for some time, staring and twitching.

Finally, after expelling wind, Reek said, “Well, I think that’s decided then. We can’t kill him.”

“Aye,” said the other three, dispirited.

“Too few of you left. What better way than to irk the mage?”

“Mage my warts. That scum bucket of rotting eel souls.”

“Mage? You mean Meraude?” Aidan asked.

The four glared at Aidan as if he had uttered a very vulgar, ungentlemanly word. “We’ll thank you not to mention that pig snout’s name in our presence.”

“Oh, aye,” Reek and Treevain agreed.

“Sorry,” Aidan offered.

The four grunted. “It happens. Only, don’t let it happen again,” said the fat one. “Time to get to the business of the matter.”

Aidan narrowed his eyes, his pulse quickening.

“The choice is left to you: the Goblet for the girl or for the – the ah, what was it he wants again?”

The wart-nosed elf huffed and scratched her backside. “He wants to know about the Goblets.”

“Reek! He wants to know about the Immortal.”

“Isn’t that the same—”

“Silence.”

Aidan was hit by another strong attempt at Glamour, which almost knocked him backward. The anchor that kept him from falling over was the Pull between him and the girl, who seemed to have turned around and returned to the elves’ camp.

The fattest elf swore. “What will it be, man? And how soon can we make the exchange?”

Aidan rubbed his head, which throbbed to the rhythm of his pulse. So, the goblet had something to do with the Immortal? Perhaps they were merely trying to confuse him.

“Don’t make a deal with the elves.” Isaac’s words continued to echo around in his mind. He knew better than to make a deal with any elf, let alone four, no matter how decrepit they appeared.

He thought of the goblet as the four stared at him, waiting for his answer. If they wanted it so much, then perhaps it wasn’t the wisest of ideas to let them have it. “Can I have a night to think on it?” He might as well have asked them for each of their right arms as well, judging by their reactions.

“Wants to wait, does he?” Treevain spat. “No doubt so he can run off with the Goblet and the information we’ve given him.”

“You haven’t given me a single piece of information,” Aidan reminded her.

The sisters exchanged dark looks. The tallest one shook a bony finger at him. “Ah, but haven’t we? We’re offering you a good deal here, laddie. I’d take it, if’n I was you.”

Aidan’s head ached, and he did not think he could match wits much longer, what with their cheating and using Glamour. If he had such a gift at his disposal…. Much more useful than willing things away.

“We’ll give you three minutes to think about it, and then….” Reek drew a line across her nose. “We’ll slice that fine nose of yours off’n your face.”

Aidan narrowed his eyes, which he locked on to hers. “Give me tonight, and you will have your answer in the morning. I vow.”

“He vows, does he, sisters?”

“What good is a vow?”

“I’ll take it,” said Treevain. The others looked at her. “He has truth in his eyes.”

The others leaned forward, as if to catch a glimpse of what their sister said. “I don’t know about truth,” said Reek. “I see pain. Lots of pain. And he’s hungry.”

Aidan did not change expression at that. He knew elves could be extra perceptive when the moon was near its fullest. Just as he was recalling that fact, the Pull between him and the girl fluctuated, slackening as she stalked back into camp.

“He be wanting to know about the Blest as well. But is he cursed? Hmm. What think you, Gully?”

The one named Gully made a face. “Cursed, yet perhaps not cursed. Pain there, yes. Lots of pain.” She sniffed the wind. “And regret. Blames himself for something.”

“Might be his hand,” Reek suggested. “Maybe he regrets letting it get right an’ filthy infected.”

The other three tutted.

“We’ll throw some salve into the deal. Slaíne! Where be that scheming little blight on the face of humanity?”

“Up a tree?”

“Higher ’n that, I’d wager.” All four cackled. Reek said, “Go ahead and make your camp. We’ll talk later in the evening.”

Aidan nodded, and was glad to be dismissed, seeing as his hand was throbbing painfully behind his back. He’d been ignoring the pain for a day now, where he had hastily sliced himself for blood. He walked back to his horse and examined the wound. The skin was a sickly yellow color, filled with green pus. Infected. He could skin himself alive for being so reckless.

As if in answer to his problem, he felt someone come nearer. It was her. He looked over his right shoulder. The elves were not watching him and did not seem to notice their serving girl approaching Aidan with something small and round tucked in her hands.

“What do you know of curses?” The girl passed him a jar of salve and stared at a fixed point in the horizon over his shoulder.

Aidan blinked, following her example by hiding the jar in his hands. “Excuse me? Curses?”

She blew a strand of red out of her face, which pinched momentarily as if she were in pain. “No matter. They say only She deals in curses now.”

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