But I was already gone, through the door now and sprinting along the corridor, bursting out onto the steps. The blue sky I had left you beneath had been taken over by a mass of cloud, and a blizzard engulfed me as I tumbled down the stone steps.
— FIFTY-ONE —
‘IMA!’
You struggled with Boron’s reins in a cloud of swirling snow, trying to calm him. A light hovered, flashing in the gloom above the drop.
‘Reed, let go!’
You released the reins and Boron reeled, towering above us with bulging eyes and front legs flailing. I stepped in front, pushing you back against the rock. Before us was the lantern—a glowing mesh with a single eye swapping its attention between me and the horse. I stared at it, waiting for its move.
The eye flicked left and right. Boron panted and ducked his head, stepping this way and that as he responded to my clucks and shushes. But the panic overcame him again and he rose up on his hind legs, releasing a huge bray. The lantern shot towards him.
I leaped, smashing the lantern with my right fist as it passed and sending it spiralling in a wayward arc from the mountainside. A shock of energy ran through my body and I clutched my arm to my chest, just as Boron fell backwards.
‘No!’ you called out, diving for him. But I dived first and caught him as he slipped from the precipice, bracing myself against a boulder.
I stood there, holding the weight of a dangling male horse in my two arms, I looked across. You stared back, mouth agape.
‘Reed,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’
You shook your head.
Boron spluttered beneath me. I was holding him by his neck, and though my grip was firm his coat was slick with moisture. There was only so much longer I could keep my horse from falling.
‘There are some things I need to discuss with you. But right now—’
Boron gave a dreadful whinny. He was almost gone.
‘Just… don’t be afraid, Reed,’ I said, and heaved.
We stood there, the three of us on that windswept, snow-caked ledge. Boron seemed almost as bewildered as you, gulping great clouds of breath. I checked him for injury, ignoring your silent stare, and seeing nothing broken or torn, fixed his saddle and mounted him.
A thousand questions burned in your eyes.
I opened my mouth—to say all the things that needed to be said and more—but just then my ears pricked at a distant whine. Two more lanterns were approaching from the east.
‘Come on, we have to go.’
I pulled you on and glanced up the steps, at the top of which I saw Oonagh standing half-hidden behind the door, those wisps of hair trailing in the blizzard. As the lanterns drew near, I kicked the horse I had just pulled from death with my bare hands, and we galloped away.
Snow roared into us as we hit the first plain. I could see little, and was only able to direct Boron by following the terrain by memory, the details of which were significant enough to avoid obstacles. Boron responded well and obeyed without question, despite his recent trauma. He was a good horse.
The galloping of his hooves, the clank of the reins, the howl of the blizzard—the noise of our flight rendered conversation impossible, but for my occasional orders called back.
‘Keep your head down.’
‘Grip with your legs.’
‘Hold on tight.’
Such simple words. Such a simple contract—I tell, you do. And even with all that had just happened you obeyed me. You kept your head down, you gripped with your legs, and you held on tighter than you ever had.
‘Watch out.’
I saw a boulder ahead that had not been there when we had climbed that morning, and barely had time to pull Boron around it. He lost his footing and stumbled before righting himself and pushing on, but I noticed his pace was slowing. The lanterns were behind us now. I could feel their blazing heat.
I kicked Boron and he upped his pace, but he soon fell back, missing strides and tripping on loose rock. The two lanterns separated and flanked us, one on either side. You cried out as you spotted them, but instead of pushing yourself further into my back for comfort as I expected, I was surprised to feel you sit bolt upright on the saddle.
‘Get away,’ you yelled, swiping at them as if they were nothing more than troublesome flies.