Niall rose from the hard soil. He looked at the field surrounding him, it’s flora grey but not dead. A long line of people were walking towards him, with two larger figures leading them on horseback, one at the front of the line and the other at the back. Trying to stand up, Niall jerked back down to the ground with a fierce pull. He looked down to see his wrists bound together by a set of chains that seemed to emerge from the soil under him. The chains were cold and breathed with an icy mist, freezing his wrists to the point that they burned under the metal. Pulling and tugging at the chains, he felt no pain from the ice burn that was eating away at his wrists, the burn he felt was more of a remembered feeling than anything. Niall turned to the group and called to them for help; they didn’t look helpful, but he had no other option. The company slowly got closer; misery hanging in the air around them, so thick that it needed to be pulled back like a curtain.
The rider at the back of the line, Niall noticed, seemed to have some kind of three-sided mask on, a face looking forward and two looking to either side. Each face radiated with a stunning symmetry and grace, and they seemed to mesh back into one face the closer the group got. His hair and beard were long, wild, and red, and they blew about his face with every gust of wind. His robes were green and white and looked extravagant, and he seemed to be wearing a layer of armour underneath them that was made of an almost reflective metal. His horse was a fine beast, brilliant white in colour with a long flowing mane. It seemed well travelled and could probably lead itself on their journeys, as if it had a human personality all its own. Attached to his back were a shield and a long spear that glittered in the light, as though the head was made of gold. The rider at the front of the line was less of a spectacle to behold. Their face was covered, as was most of their body, by heavy grey robes that stretched to their ankles. In one hand were the reigns of their horse and a long, wooden staff was clasped in the other. The staff was more of a stick with a grip, unpolished and rough in appearance. The being’s horse was not the same as the first one. It was also white, but ghostly white, like it was sick, even though it was a huge, healthy, strong-looking animal.
The line of people walking didn’t raise their heads as they approached Niall. They were also chained, but their chains were connected to each other which made them walk in unison. The group finally came over to Niall and stopped in front of him. The rider at the front didn’t speak, it just studied Niall. Its eyes were two black holes with bright burning centres that looked like collapsed stars. Now that it was closer, Niall could see that the figure was a tall, slender old man with tough, grey skin and a long white beard. The figure’s grey robe had intricate patterns all over it which looked very similar to Celtic symbols Niall had seen in history class. Niall watched the figures eyes scan over his entire being. He felt their inky blackness soaking up his every detail. The silence of the entire interaction made him feel very anxious. The figure eventually focused his gaze into Niall’s eyes and then signalled him to rise from the ground. The pull of the chains loosened in the soil, allowing enough slack for Niall to rise to his feet. Once he got to his feet, the figure indicated to Niall to go to the back of the line with a tilt of the head.
“Where am I? What’s going on here?” Niall asked with a tremble of panic in his voice. The figure didn’t reply to him, simply continuing to direct him to the back of the line.
“I’m lost. I don’t know how I got here. Can you help me?” he pleaded in vain, with the being still not responding to him.
The other horseback rider came up from the back of the line. He was a huge man who’s hair and beard were even bigger and redder up close. “I think you’re better off just going to the back of the line son, it’ll all make sense soon” he said. His voice was warm and confident. Niall still wondered why he was in chains and joining a line of prisoners, but this man’s words made him stop asking questions.
Upon joining the back of the queue, Niall noticed that the chains had followed him and with a small flash, his chains joined to the ones of the person in front of him. It was like magic. Something very strange was going on here. The line started moving again. The two figures went back to their positions and silence descended on the group. After a lot of walking a huge wooden gate came into view. Carved into the curved top of it was ‘Teach Donn’ which is ‘Brown House’ in Irish. “Brown house?” Niall thought, “what on earth could be in a brown house?” The group halted their march at the gate. The figure at the front of the line turned to look at the line. Still on the horse, the figure made his way up the line, pausing for a time at each prisoner, studying them in pensive detail. The clatter of hooves could be heard in the distance, galloping towards them all. The group turned around to see a beautiful woman on horseback charging and calling towards them. Her hair was red and golden and was glowing, even in the cloudy weather around them. Her robes were spotless and white with a green cloak covering her neck and shoulders that flowed in the gust of her gallop.
“Lou! Lou!” she called. “Wait, stop! He’s not supposed to be there. There’s been a mistake. He’s not meant to be here. He’s not dead! Níl sé marbh! Níl sé marbh!”
By Owen Coyne
Taken to the Corner 