Nimulot Encounters
CH1: Fire and Water
Arthur's hands covered Nimue's eyes from behind, so he was no help at all when she stepped on wet rocks he couldn't see in front of her.
"Some guide you are," she laughed as he helped her off the ground, blushing even as he laughed with her. Looking around, Nimue realized Arthur had found the secret hot springs of Numos. "A terrible guide, but a decent scout it seems."
"Well, guiding a lady through the dark is like leading her in a dance," Arthur argued playfully. "The dance only works if the lady trusts the leader and follows him."
"A bard, a knight, a mercenary, a thief, and now a dance instructor?" Nimue smiled, twirling quite gracefully as she stepped around Arthur, moving closer to the water. "Has no one ever told you a practitioner of all trades is a master of none?"
"I'm a scout as well now," Arthur said, leaping up onto one of the large rocks by the natural pools. "You said so yourself." Nimue rolled her eyes, already regretting that one. This was all playful banter, but Arthur was inclined to think highly of himself even when he spoke ill of himself.
"Let me know when you find one direction that suits you, Arthur."
Frowning slightly at the change in Nimue's tone, Arthur quickly removed his shirt, grinning broadly when Nimue turned away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Without hesitation, he discarded the rest of his clothing and sank into the largest pool. "That's why you brought me here, is it?" Nimue asked, turning to face him again.
"I didn't think you'd be averse to it," Arthur spoke plainly. Nimue gaped at him.
"This is more of the bard, then," she said, all traces of levity gone. "You really think you're the most devastating thing ever." Arthur blinked, confused, taking a moment to realize how his words had been misinterpreted.
"Oh, no, that's not what I meant," he said quickly. "I don't say that because you're a girl, but because you're fey. You're all so in touch with nature, wild and free compared to manblood like me, right?"
"You've heard tales of other clans," Nimue said, hoping Arthur missed the longing in her voice, hoping her eyes didn't give her away. "Sky Folk aren't just the most human in appearance. I'm the wildest by far, but still very much my mother's daughter, and she was the High Priestess."
"Isn't it enough that you're risking your life trying to fulfill her last wish?" Arthur asked. "You're trying to get the sword to Merlin. You're giving her that. Don't you think you've earned a little break? A little fun?"
"Is that what you tell yourself when you think of your father?" Nimue challenged. "Are you not so determined to fulfill his dying wish? You stole the sword and left me at Yvoire Abbey so you could go play knight in Grammaire." For a long moment, Nimue and Arthur just glared at each other, each aware that they'd overstepped but neither willing to withdraw. As they both calmed, Arthur moved backward in the water, giving Nimue plenty of room.
"C'mon," he said gently, "get in or we've come up here for nothing." Nimue still hesitated. "I've seen a naked woman before," Arthur pressed, flashing his most charming smile.
"We're all very impressed," Nimue sighed, sardonic but submitting nonetheless. She twirled her finger, insisting he turn around. Arthur laughed but he turned his back, hoisting himself up on the far edge a little, happy to show off his body though she was reluctant to show hers. He flexed a little when he heard clothing falling, pleasantly surprised that she really was going to join him.
Nimue couldn't resist the urge to feel the scars as she undressed. Arthur had glimpsed them briefly before, but she'd refused to talk about them. He'd barely seen them through the small hole torn in her clothing. Dark as it had been, it might have escaped his notice that they were almost black in color. They only had a subtle red sparkle to them in the light, and that was only visible up close. With another heavy sigh, Nimue slipped into the water, sinking until the water reached her neck and keeping her back to the wall. Arthur turned around and smiled warmly.
"You don't have to hide them," he said. "Your scars."
"Back home, I did have to hide them," Nimue said flatly, hoping Arthur would drop the subject, knowing he wouldn't.
"Why?" Arthur asked, his clear confusion almost insulting. "I have scars too, just look—"
"Let's not take this as another opportunity to show me your body, Arthur," Nimue bit out. "I assure you my self-consciousness isn't rooted in vanity. I don't mind scars in general. I quite like them; I'd even say I fancy men with scars. They're proof of what one has survived, but what I survived ruined my life. Since I was five summers old, I've been treated like a monster, not just by these Red Paladins, but by my own kind. They called me witch, they called me demon, half of them going out of their way to avoid me while the other half picked fights and tried to hurt me. My own father—!" but Nimue couldn't say it. Trying to hide the tears welling up in her eyes, she turned away from Arthur. Of course, that meant her scars were on full display.
Arthur weighed his options. He wanted to know what she was going to say about her father, but she clearly didn't want to talk about it. Seeing her scars clearly for the first time, it was quite obvious that what she was saying was true: her scars were certainly not normal. "They look like embers," he said softly. He couldn't help it. He'd never seen anything like them. "They look like..." He moved a little closer. "Are they claw marks?! What kind of animal...? Where is that light coming from? It truly looks like embers are trapped under the skin..." The second Arthur's fingertips touched her scars, Nimue whipped around. Arthur's fingers barely grazed the top of her breast as he swiftly withdrew them, but Nimue didn't seem to notice.
"They said I was cursed," She fumed. "They said I was marked by Dark Gods, that the demon that came for me would return."
"D-Demon?!" Arthur sputtered.
"It came to me as a bear," Nimue confessed. "It lured me out of the village when I was five summers and it attacked me. I heard Mother's voice in my head; she knew I was in danger, but she knew she wouldn't reach me in time. 'Call to the Hidden,' she said. My magic saved me that night. I killed the bear and Mother found me and brought me home. I fainted at some point, but I was awake when they were talking. My eyes were closed, and I felt sick, and the gashes hurt terribly, but I heard them! They told her to let me die, afraid that whatever wanted me would come back for me. Even my father... he did nothing, and a few summers later he left us."
"Nimue..." Arthur had no idea what to say, so he fell back on old habits. "I'm sorry... but, hey, when it comes to comparing scar stories you know you'll always come out on top, eh?" Nimue swept her arm across the surface of the steaming water, soaking Arthur with a wave. Arthur grinned. "Well, now you've declared war."
Though Nimue had splashed Arthur to avoid slapping him, she was quickly drawn into the water fight, and she soon found herself laughing along as they flung water everywhere. "Stop! Stop!" She called when she realized she would soon be exposed. Too much water had been cast out of the pool. She sank lower in the water, but Arthur moved closer. Nimue stared in disbelief. Each time she thought they had a shot at being friends, he did something too bold. She wasn't sure how much longer she could playfully dissuade him. "How many times do I have to hit you to convince you I don't want you to kiss me?"
"Once, Nimue?" Arthur asked in earnest, his eyes on her lips. "Aren't you curious? We've come this far together. You don't need to be nervous. You can trust me." Arthur scrambled backward when he saw the green vines appearing on Nimue's cheeks. He looked around at all the nearby trees and shrubs, expecting to be struck by a branch or a vine at any moment, but the earth was still.
'But you saw me looking at you,' Nimue heard the voices from the past as if they were spoken directly into her ear. She saw him. She remembered his friend and his betrothed were hidden in the trees. 'Witch.' Nimue felt around blindly for her clothes. She wanted to get out, but she didn't want Arthur to see her body as she did so. She heard the whispers of the Hidden. She asked for a wall, a wall to block her from Arthur's view. She didn't want to hurt him, but she couldn't be so exposed around him. She felt her magic stirring, felt a shift, heard splashing and whirling... Somehow, she'd connected with the water instead of the earth. The water from all the hot springs had come together, rising between her and Arthur like a tidal wave frozen in time. Nimue clambered out of the empty pool and dressed faster than she ever had before. Once she was clothed, the wall of water parted, all the water pouring back into the hot springs.
"Morgana said your magic is earth-based," Arthur murmured, climbing out of the large pool and quickly dressing, his hands shaking.
"It is," Nimue said flatly, coldly, still hurt and shaken. "I've never wielded water before." Nimue stood there, lost in thought. Arthur stared for a long moment, working up the courage to speak again, but when he opened his mouth, Nimue cut him off. "Congratulations. Now you can claim this too. Thanks to you, the Wolf-Blood Witch discovered power she didn't know she had." It was a dismissal and Arthur knew it. He left, disappearing into the dark tunnels of Numos without another word.
Nimue sat on one of the large rocks by the pool she'd just vacated, feeling utterly spent. Then she felt it. She wasn't alone. She tried to look around subtly, keeping her posture relaxed so her stalker wouldn't know she was aware of them. The tunnels weren't an option; they were dark and expansive, and she'd allowed Arthur to lead her through them blindly. Her eyes scanned the surrounding forest; she could try to make her way back to the main entrance, but she would lead any pursuers the same way, endangering all the other fey refugees inside. Turning back to the tunnels, she froze. The Weeping Monk stood blocking the path into the tunnels. Haunting images immediately came to mind. Nimue remembered the chilling sight of him riding into her burning village on a great black horse, then there was that moment in Yvoire Abbey... he'd been so close she was certain he had her then. He had yet to reach for his weapons, but his very presence cut the atmosphere like a fine blade—once he let you see him, there was no ignoring him. A chill ran down her spine and she felt her magic stirring.
"Don't," The Weeping Monk's voice was a little higher than she'd expected, but still low and rough, the soft raspiness strangely attractive and all too distracting. "You were so forthcoming with your... friend... I hoped you would spare me the trouble of forcibly extracting information from you." The weeping warrior spoke of torture so casually; Nimue found it both infuriating and calming. She also noticed the whispers of the Hidden had abruptly quieted at his command.
"You heard that?" She made herself speak. "How long have you been here?"
"I was here when Arthur first stumbled across this place." Nimue felt a strange jolt when the Monk said Arthur's name. "I thought I would question him when he came back, but then he returned with you."
"And you recognized me?" Nimue asked. Even she wasn't sure if she was genuinely curious or simply stalling. "I saw you kneeling before Carden while my village burned around you, but you didn't see me. I stood an arms-length from you in Yvoire Abbey, but you didn't catch me then."
"You dragged that boy away from Father Carden and me. I admit I didn't get a good look at you, but I saw you. Your eyes are very distinctive."
"So are yours." Nimue wasn't sure what made her say that. The Monk's eyes were mostly concealed by his hood, but she was finally close enough to him to really see the distinctive markings—some kind of war paint perhaps—and she could tell his eyes were intensely blue, much like hers. Nimue started slightly when the Monk took a step closer to her.
"You did slip through my fingers at Yvoire Abbey, but I was one step behind you from that moment on, as you know all too well. You left quite a message for me at the Red Lake—"
"That wasn't about you. I happened across dead fey and human smugglers, friends of mine, dead on the road, then I found my sword in their wagon. I wasn't sending a message, I was answering one!" Before Nimue could blink, the Weeping Monk's sword was pressed against her neck, the cold steel warning her back. It took Nimue a moment to realize she had risen from her seated position while speaking. She stood before the weeping warrior, and at such close range he towered over her.
"I stopped that wagon, so you were in fact responding to my actions with your own," the Monk's voice was threatening, but there was an undercurrent Nimue couldn't place. The grey warrior's face was cool and composed, but there was a light in his eyes, a fire that wasn't fueled purely by hatred. So why did it burn? "Where is your sword now?"
"Out of your reach."
"Learned your lesson after your friend stole it?"
"From what I've heard about you, it would do me no good if I did have it now. It's powerful, but I'm no swordsman."
"Neither is Merlin." Nimue's breath caught. The Monk really had heard her whole conversation with Arthur. His blade was still against her neck, and he applied a little more pressure, turning his weapon slightly so the flat side of it pressed her back. Nimue stepped backward slowly and a faint smile touched the Monk's lips. Nimue backed into the stone she'd just risen from. No. She would not sit back down at his command."Why Merlin?" The Monk pressed. "What would he do with the Devil's Tooth?"
"I don't know," Nimue answered honestly. "You heard me, heard us—it was my mother's dying wish that I bring it to him."
"How did your mother come to possess it?"
"I don't know. I didn't know it was in our village until you came. I didn't even realize it was the Sword of Power until Yvoire Abbey—I followed Carden when I heard him talking about it, telling the others he recognized the mark it left."
"You were deliberately spying?" There was a distinct change in the Monk's tone. He was genuinely surprised. "You weren't in that room when they entered?"
"I'm glad I did. I went back for those maps and papers and burned them." Hoping to take her enemy by surprise again, Nimue lunged for him. She felt the sting of his blade as it left a shallow mark on her neck, but as she closed the distance between herself and the Monk, she grabbed his arm and forced it upward, forcing the sword up over her head. She pulled and twisted on the spot, hoping to throw him into the water, but the Monk was too quick for her, dropping her to the ground with a sweeping kick. Nimue deliberately rolled back into the water herself, moving into the middle of the largest pool. The Weeping Monk stared down at her. Since she couldn't outrun him, returning to the water was a smart move. She was trapped but his sword would not reach her unless he joined her.
"Last chance to walk away," she said with all the confidence she could muster. The Monk smiled again, watching her closely but saying nothing. The second he saw the green vines reappearing on her face and neck, he drew his dagger and threw it. A wall of water shot up again, not stopping the dagger, but striking it, spinning it so it bounced off Nimue's chest, cutting her but not piercing her. The attack did break her focus. Roots that had begun reaching for the Monk stopped moving and the water settled back into the pool. Nimue dove underwater to seize the dagger, but she stood still when she resurfaced. She couldn't get close enough to attack without making herself vulnerable, and she certainly wasn't going to throw the only weapon she had. The Monk stood calmly by the pool's edge, having reached the same conclusion. They stared at each other for a long moment.
"If you try that again, I will kill you," The Weeping Monk said at last. "I may not be as eager to join you as some, but I will if I must." Nimue didn't miss the way the Monks's eyes swept over her body. There wasn't much to see, but the water made her clothing cling to the curves of her breasts. Nimue tried to hide her blush when it occurred to her that the Monk had not only heard her conversation with Arthur, but he'd seen everything as well; it was possible he'd seen more than Arthur had. Nimue wondered if 'Weeping Monk' was just an intimidating name. In his eyes, she saw not a monk, but a man, and if she could not fight him, perhaps she could distract him.
"What did you make of them?" She asked, her voice low and seductive, or so she hoped. "My scars. Do you think they look like embers too?
"You assume I was looking."
"I'm fairly certain you were," Nimue countered. "Not like Arthur was. You might have looked away when I was fully exposed—I thank you, if that's true—but you surely looked when I was in the water. I was attacked by a demon. You're a warrior of the Church, are you not? You were merely curious." Nimue did not know it was in her to be so bold, but she turned her back to the Monk, tugging her sleeve down a little to reveal more of her scarred skin. She hid them from everyone else, but she felt no need to hide them from him. He already thought the worst of her, didn't he? There was a long silence, but Nimue didn't move. If her attempts to distract the Monk failed, she stood no chance against him.
"This venture has certainly been...informative." The Monk's dangerously luring voice lanced through her again, soft as it was. Nimue could only hope he missed her shudder. "I've killed many demons, but I've never seen such marks." Nimue bristled, whirling to face the Monk again.
"You've killed feykind," Nimue snapped at him. "We are not demons. I killed a real demon as a mere child. The marks on my back are proof I have done what you have not. The Weeping Monk, outdone by the Wolf-Blood Witch." How easily she'd forgotten her intent to distract him. The Monk's eyes flashed and he jumped into the water. Nimue brought his dagger up, but he caught her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back, forcing her to drop the dagger and pushing her up against the far edge of the pool. He trapped her there there with his body and his blade, his sword arm wrapping around her while his body pressed against her back. His sword came to rest close to her throat again, and his breath warmed the back of her neck.
"Then I'll slay the demon slayer," he breathed in her ear. "If I do what the demon could not, then I am stronger than the demon."
"That's what everyone wanted to do," Nimue tried to sound unruffled, but her voice shook. "When my mother refused to give the demon what it wanted, she proved she was stronger than the demon. She didn't fear it."
The Weeping Monk made no reply. He made no move to strike, nor did he move away. Nimue could hear him breathing, she could feel the rise and fall of his chest against her back, but she waited. She jumped slightly, startled when his callused fingertips tentatively touched her exposed shoulder, feeling the scars there. She had been naked in the water with Arthur, but this felt so much more intimate, regardless of the blade before her.
"Embers..." The Monk seemed naturally soft-spoken, but that word had been nearly inaudible, charged... The word meant something more to him, somehow.
The Monk's stance behind her had relaxed slightly. Remembering her objective, she shifted backward. 'Distracting, not fighting,' she reminded herself as she pressed her body further into his. She heard his sharp intake of breath and he immediately broke contact with her skin. Before he moved his sword, she twisted around so she faced him. Their faces inches apart, Nimue could see every curve of the markings on his face, the vibrant blue of his eyes a striking contrast. Seeing that same fire in the blue, Nimue was distracted too. She glanced at his lips before she could stop herself, looking up in time to see his eyes on her lips as well, if only for a moment. His free hand wrapped around her throat and pushed her back.
"Do not tempt me, witch," he warned, "for I would sooner be tempted to strike you down."
"But you haven't," Nimue challenged, "If you're so firm in your belief that I cannot tempt you, speak my name. I know you heard it."
"Those wishing to summon demons speak their names."
"If you're afraid to speak my name, you would certainly cower before the demon I killed."
The Monk's grip tightened, not enough to steal her breath entirely, but enough to make her struggle, enough to silence her. Still, leaning in closer, almost touching her lips with his, he said, "I fear no demon... Nimue."