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

and was trudging out of the reach of the flames. The look she threw back over her shoulder was grim. “To make water, if that’s all right with you.”

Aidan grimaced, the girl scoffed, and they both went about their own separate business.

The fire was still ravenous. Nothing, it would seem, could keep it from flickering to the brink of death. Aidan could not use green wood; the fire would smoke. Instead, he Called anything dry that he could sense, driving himself near to the point of mental exhaustion. He’d been at it nigh half an hour when he heard her footsteps returning to camp.

“There you are. I wondered where you’d—” He turned at this point, and a pale fist pummeled him in the side of the head. Stars swam before Aidan’s eyes as he tumbled to the ground, marveling at the girl’s strength and wrath. He looked up.

Where he’d assumed Slaíne was standing, there stood a stooped figure cloaked in black, its sickly white skin blinding in the fire’s light. The fire! Whatever this creature was, he began putting out the blaze, screeching as sparks flew.

Aidan stumbled to his feet, Summoning the girl’s blade to his hand. He could not feel the man’s Pull, so when the light went out, he swung blindly. He connected with something solid, the silver blade hissing as his opponent collapsed.

The creature gurgled, sputtered, and was silent as the blade began to glow green. From the blade’s light, he could see many sets of red eyes peering at him in the darkness beyond. Still he felt no Pulls.

They screeched at such a high pitch!

Aidan’s hairs stood on end and he was overwhelmed with dread. “Slaíne,” he said as calmly as possible, hoping she could hear him from around the brush. “Run.” It would seem a useless exercise at this point, for their alcove was quite surrounded by the red eyes, whose owners’ growls and cries pierced the night.

Aidan spun in useless circles, swiping at the sounds as they crowded in. The creatures’ fetid breath wafted in on a chill breeze, turning his stomach as he swung out in a wide arc. He caught one of them with the silver sword. The blade again hissed and glowed a brighter green, by which he could now see that these creatures of the night were toying with him, willing to sacrifice the few for sport.

They were there to watch him die. And then? He shuddered at the thought.

“Give us.” The voice was a snarl. It reminded Aidan of something primitive, old…feral.

As he swung out again with the blade, there was a shrill cry from the brush, followed by a large flash of light. Perhaps Slaíne had happened across something to fight with, though that was too good to hope for.

Feel for Pulls, you idiot!

So used to feeling them, so desperate now when he could feel nothing but his own imminent demise. Darkness dragged him down to his knees, knocked the sword from his hand, grasped him by the throat and squeezed.

“Where is it?” the night roared.

All grew terribly cold. I failed them, was all he could think of his family. My fault.

The grip on his windpipe tightened. “Don’t touch it too long,” rasped a second voice. “It’s got power.”

It would seem that his body was acting of its own accord. Ignoring his inability to breathe, Aidan reached out and felt for the Pull of his sword. Nothing. But he tried again, and this time there was an odd prickling sensation in the back of his neck. These creatures, these so-called goblins, were not the night nor were they the wind. They were Nothing, and to Nothingness he sent the one clutching him.

Choking and sputtering, Aidan collapsed further still, his skin giving off an eerie green glow.

The goblins had backed away farther, their red eyes averting into the darkness. As one they cried out as wounded things, and were swallowed into the landscape beyond.

Aidan continued to glow, and would have wondered at himself if he had not thought of his poor traveling companion. “Slaíne?” he croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again, though it caused him pain. “Are you all right?”

Her Pull, which had disappeared during the attack, snapped back to life, nearly jerking him to his feet. Relief washed over him.

“They’re gone.”

Silence. He felt for her Pull again. It was high. Very high. Had she managed to climb a tree before the goblins attacked? Aidan stumbled to his feet and followed the unbearable tug. The farther his steps took him, the brighter his own glow became, until stopping, he could bear the brightness no more. Aidan looked up and there he saw an odd sight. Apparently unconscious, the girl floated in the air above him, glowing a faint blue.

He opened his mouth to shout her name, but a cold iron blade slipped beneath his chin.

“Drop your sword,” said the woman he could barely make out in the light of the glow.

Aidan complied. “Who—”

“Another word from you,” said a male voice from near his left, “and we shall slit your throat. Attempt anything, and we shall let your lady fair fall.”

There was no other option left him. Aidan remained silent and clenched his teeth, furious at himself for being careless that evening. Hot rage pumped hard through his veins. He wanted to help the girl, to free himself, but he was beyond helpless.

“Sleep,” said the woman’s voice. She snapped her fingers, and the world grew dark. Aidan knew no more.

* * *

In that dark sleep, Aidan dreamt. He was back in the white stone room, staring at the empty throne, helpless to reach it, as he was frozen in place.

Someone tutted. It was Meraude again, dressed in dark violet. She glided around him, her eyes full of amusement that grated on him. “I take it you haven’t discovered Cedric’s hallowed grounds?”

Aidan blinked. “What makes you think I’m going to fetch your Goblet?”

She laughed lightly. “You need it as much as I do, Lord Ingledark. Tell me, where are