He was right, of course. We entered the village not too long after he said we would. I stayed low onto Nightmare like he requested. Even though I was getting  tired, I refused to fall asleep. I didn’t want to accidentally fall off the shadow horse. 

I listened to everything happening around me. I could hear some men talking about an upcoming war. Gossiping about what happened in the battle fronts. I heard someone address Isaac.

“Lord Charboneau, may I take your horse?” The man’s voice was nasally and thick. His pauper’s accent was so different from Isaac, I could tell he wasn’t educated.

“No, I  need to water her. I am on my way to a war council. What news have you heard about the battle across the Saltstraumen River?” Isaac’s gravelly voice held an authoritative air. 

I wish I could see what was going on.  

“Only that a lot of lives were lost on both sides, my lord. Carrion demons have been taking as many dead as possible.” The inflections in the man’s voice made me question his knowledge.

“That’s the same as what I’ve heard too. I will be riding out in a few days to investigate and report back to Lord Blakewood.”

Lord Blakewood must be my father. Though I was curious… Why weren’t we going to see my parents?

“I hope your mare is as strong as she looks. It will be dangerous for you, my lord. Even after the battles are over and passed, there are many dangers that still lurk. There’s many a blood fiends born from battle.”

“You’re right about that. Can you spare me a four day ration pack and two skeins of water?” 

“Yes, sire. Give me  a few moments.”

I heard as the old man tottered off. Isaac walked back to where I lay over the saddle bags. He brushed his hand up the saddle, showing me where he needed it. I slowly slid over so he could open the bag. 

It didn’t take long at all for the man to come back. 

“My wife has started making rations to sell, so we are prepared when the travelers come through. Though, I threw a little extra in yours, my lord. You’ll be needing your strength for the coming days.”

 He reminded me of the peasants in a video game, like an NPC who was programmed to push along the quest.

“Thank you.” I heard the rattling of coins. “Sir, this is too much.” 

“Consider it a tip for the extra treat, and for allowing my horse water from your trough.”

“Thank you kindly, Lord Charboneau. May your horse be swift and your journey fruitful.”

The old man’s footsteps dragged, kicking the rocks. I couldn’t see him, but I’d bet he was walking with a cane and a hard limp. 

Isaac didn’t reply as he led the horse from town. After we were a good enough distance away, he spoke to me again. 

“Ok. You can sit up now.” 

I stretched for a moment and slipped out of the saddle. I did some toe touches and stretched the stiff muscles in my legs.

“So, a meeting, huh?” I raised my eyebrow.

“Yes. A meeting. War councils are  meetings.” He unfastened the saddle from Nightmare’s back. She whinnied softly and set off to graze.

“What exactly happened from my disappearance till now?”

“Let’s start with, what’s your earliest memories till now.”

I was beginning to learn that he was stubborn with sharing information. In order to get information, I had to give information. Even if said information was about MY OWN LIFE.

I huffed a bit at not having my questions answered first, and sighed. There was a bit of fallen tree to my left so I kicked it, to make sure nothing was hiding in it. After deciding it seemed safe enough, I sat. I folded my hands into my lap and sighed again. 

“There  isn’t much to tell. I had parents. My earliest memory of them was my tenth birthday, when they told me we were moving to the country. Before that, we were living in a small apartment in the city. They thought it would be better for me to run around and grow up outside the city limits.” 

I shifted a bit as he came to sit beside me. 

“The neighbors had a horse farm. They agreed to let me ride if I mucked the stalls. I spent every spare moment there. My parents both worked a lot so I spent a lot of time alone. Since there were no other kids my age, I made one up. A little boy. I don’t remember his name, but I pretended he was riding with me a lot. The horse we rode was a bay mare, named Sucre, though she was nothing like Nightmare. I used to make up stories about being a kidnapped princess from another world. Sucre was our escape horse. We rode all through the woods.” I laughed a bit.

“I guess that must have been some repressed memories or something. At night though, when I would fall asleep, I dreamed of my make believe friend. He was more realistic in my dreams. He would argue back with me, tease me and he was bossy and a little rude. But he was my only friend. Of course, as I grew older, the dreams started fading. I stopped believing in pretend worlds and imaginary friends.”

I sounded crazy to myself, I couldn’t begin to imagine what he thought. I stretched a bit more, trying to get the blood to circulate back to my legs. He motioned for me to continue.

 “Do you remember the dreams?”

“Some of them, though not vividly. And I guess, occasionally he would appear in my dreams randomly over the years. There is one though. I dreamed I was sitting in his room. There was a bed by the window and a fireplace directly across from it. The boy was  upset. He didn’t say anything to me. I sat down by him on the bed and leaned against him, kind of giving him a hug.” I shrugged before continuing.  

“I don’t know what happened, but it was something awful. We sat there in silence for a long time. I think I fell asleep, because when I woke, I was back in my own room. It was like I never left. But that was the most vivid dream I’ve ever had. In the others, I couldn’t  touch him. In that dream, I tried to give him what comfort I could. But I was thirteen. There wasn’t a lot I could do. I guess it’s silly because he was make-believe, but I kind of always wondered what happened to him. I honestly don’t know why I even felt the need to tell you this either.” I frowned. 

For several long moments, Isaac didn’t respond.

“It seems,” his voice was thicker than I’d heard before, “as though the link between us gives you the power to connect to me even in a different world.” His voice was solemn and his face shadowed even more.

“What do you mean?” 

I unbraided and re-braided my hair as he spoke. The familiar feeling of it gave me a little comfort in the strangeness. 

“When I was thirteen, my mother died. She was killed by an assassin looking for the duchess. Protocol dictates that those of higher standing walk in front, with the lesser standing walk according to rank behind. But our mothers were friends and she never made my mother follow protocol. My mother had walked ahead of her, to get their tea ready. The person decapitated my mother as she came through the door. The person who did it was caught and killed in retribution.”

 He had said it with such monotony that it hurt my heart for him.

“That day, you appeared in my room.” he continued, his hands tightened almost imperceptibly. ”I thought perhaps my grief from my mother had manifested itself in a strange way. You were dead. I thought perhaps, your spirit was haunting my dreams because of our link. It was fine because it didn’t bother me. If you were there in my dreams, you weren’t  as gone as everyone thought. But when you appeared in my room that day, I decided that I would learn to block the link. I couldn’t deal with you haunting me in my waking hours too.” As an afterthought, he said  “Though, if it makes you feel better, it comforted me to know you were there for me.” 

My words failed me. I stared at him, half in horror for his mother and half in shock. I had the feeling he hadn’t intended on revealing so much.

“You were the boy?” I asked him finally. “I was still connected to you?”

“I thought I had imagined it. After all, the link itself is not supposed to exist. Your magic in our link allows you to project yourself to me. To stabilize the magic, you have to have something to anchor too. I think since you forgot everything, you also forgot how to stabilize yourself.  At the time though, we thought you were dead. I figured I imagined everything due to the link, especially since you didn’t even remember me.”

My fingers stilled in my hair and I frowned thinking over what he said. “I don’t know how any of this is real.”

“Which part?”

“Any of it. All of it. In my world, magic doesn’t exist.” The stress of the situation echoed in my voice. “People don’t get pulled through paintings and end up in fantasy land. They don’t ride off into the sunset with whatever stranger they meet and they don’t,” Nightmare’s whinnying cut me off.

“She’s worried about you. She doesn’t want you upset.” He stood up, stretched a bit and patted her on the neck. He murmured to her and gave her something from his pocket. He deftly re-saddled her.

I calmed, realizing I was getting a little irrational. 

“Sorry. It’s  been  stressful. My biggest worry when I rolled out of bed this morning was what to wear to the museum. I did my make up, dressed up a bit and now, I feel like I’m stuck in a horror film.”

He walked back over and reached a hand down to me. I allowed him to help me to my feet and into the saddle. He slid into the saddle behind me this time.  After Nightmare set a pace again, he asked me “What’s a film?”

I was confused at first and slowly, things began to process. We are riding cross country, on horseback, stopping in villages. He wears a sword. There aren’t any roads and we bought ration packs. 

“Holy shit, I’m back in the Middle Ages!” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud and Isaac sounded offended. 

“The middle ages were centuries ago. We are in the 21st century.”

“You don’t have films? Do you have electricity? Indoor plumbing? What about medical advancements?” I sounded a little panicked, even to my own ears. 

“We have indoor plumbing and heated water. Electricity is unstable around magic. When they first started attempting to harness lightning, the magic from their souls would cause sparks and outages. Even the most mundane magic can cause a flare. As for medical advancements, it's not  needed. After all, no one gets diseases. No one dies from sickness.”

“How?” I asked, ignoring his irritation at being interrupted. 

“According to lore, all of us living today are descendants of Ame Damnee.” 

I couldn’t help the interruption. “The what?”

“Ahm Dah-ney” He pronounced it slowly. “The Dark Nephilim, The Watchers, The Fallen. There're many names for them. Our ancestors referred to them as the Ame Damnee. Their blood was once perfect, golden liquid flowing through the veins of the mighty immortals. It’s impervious to all but demon infection. After all, they are two sides of the same coin. Angel blood and demon blood were forged in the same holy fire.” 

I felt as though my brain was overloaded with information.

 “Demon infections can’t be healed by anything other than magic. Wounds are healed with magic,” he paused and added “it’s easier to kill than to wound though.” 

We galloped several miles before he spoke again. 

“It will be dark soon and we need to be in a safe area. There’s a lot of things that utilize complete darkness and we don’t want to be caught out with them. This land is your parents’ land. There is a summer house out here that hasn’t been used since your disappearance. It isn’t too much further. We can rest there for the night and get started again in the morning.”