Dullahan

3 - Journey - 2

Snarling was all he could hear of the hounds that pursued him. The forest was black around him, trees looming up out of fog and mist before him, only just in time for him to narrowly twist to avoid them. The floor was uneven, the troughs and rises making it difficult to maintain speed, the clinging thorns and roots attempting to tangle his feet and trip him. He couldn't get enough air- his lungs heaved and yet there was never enough air. His vision was dark at the edges, and his head felt light and unsteady. He didn't know how long he'd been running from them, and he didn't know where he would go to get away. All he knew was that he needed to keep going or it would all be over.

The world rocked and swayed, and for a moment he was terrified that he had finally been tripped by one of the roots, when he heard the galloping hooves that were moving beneath him.

Eldred's eyes flew open, the dying panic of the dream replaced swiftly by confusion. He stared down at the ground- a packed road with paving stones scattered across it, flying past at speeds that seemed incomprehensible. A set of grey hind legs flashed into his vision at regular intervals, sweeping past as they reached for the next stretch of ground. It took a moment for him to piece together the rocking cadence of the horse's hindquarters with the rapidly moving terrain beneath him.

It was light, the shadows short in watery sunlight that warmed his back. He was resting atop some sort of padding that muffled some of the horse's movement, and he felt something tied around his middle, the sharp contact points of rope padded by cloth in a way that wasn't uncomfortable.

As his mind woke up, so did the pain and weariness that enveloped him so completely. The right side of his face ached dully, and moving it too much caused lancing pain to spread through his cheek. Even the frown that came so naturally was punished. He remembered the house- his mother and being torn away from her, and then the iron, its cold metal biting into his cheek. Then he remembered everything going dark as Orwel had choked him. He started to move, taking stock of the rest of his limbs- his hands felt numb and clumsy, but he could see his fingers moving beneath him. He could feel his feet, although they were stiff from the odd position he found himself in. The wind whipped up from their fast passage had chilled them, and even the spreading warmth from the sun wasn't thawing them entirely. He tried to straighten, to sit up, to better understand what was going on around him.

Then he felt something on his back- a gentle weight pinning him to the back of the horse. He blinked a few times, struggling to process this, before he turned his head and saw the armoured figure sitting on the saddle before him, one hand on his back. A spark of emotion- fear- fluttered through him. Where was he? Where was he going? Where was his mother? His struggle intensified, although the firm pressure on his back remained immovable and constant.

"You are safe," the now-familiar voice said. "Try not to move too much, Ardghal's back is a precarious place to rest if you wiggle around."

This did little to reassure him, and he tried to ask just one of his many questions, but found his mouth too dry and his tongue too unresponsive to form anything coherent. He struggled again, trying to gain purchase on the horse's moving thigh.

The rider didn't say anything, but the ground beneath them started to move slower and slower, until at last it stopped. The restraining hand lifted, and Eldred was finally able to move- only he started to slide backwards with his struggling, finding only a rope around his middle stopping him from falling from the horse entirely. The rider dismounted, and after a moment he felt the hands again, untying the rope and cloth. He tried to move again, sliding further backwards, and for a moment he feared he would fall from the horse- he hadn't realised how far down it was- but the hands were there again, slowing his descent and lifting him down. He felt lightheaded as she set him on his feet, swaying slightly as he tried to regain his balance. He was tired, sleep clinging to him like a blanket, and he stared at the ground as he tried to regain himself. His struggles had done nothing but sap his energy, and he found himself lacking the will or ability to even gain his bearings. It took what felt like an immense effort, but he lifted his head and looked at the armoured figure before him. He tried again to speak, getting as far as uttering the word "Where...?" before his vision started to darken again. He felt his knees buckling, and the figure stepped forward to catch him.