Run Until You Feel Your Lungs Burning
“Cedric, you aren’t accompanying me.” Harry said, nestling his staff against his bedpost, ensuring Lenore was comfortable, and leaving food for Artorius.
“Yes I am.” Cedric replied, stroking Artorius’ head as he did. “Did you tell the centaurs you wouldn’t have company?”
“I did not.”
“So you wouldn’t be breaking an oath or breaking a truth!” Cedric said, standing up and following Harry. “So, I’m going with.”
“Is there truly nothing I could say to dissuade you?”
“Nope! If it makes ya feel better, think of it as a consequence of the ring.” Cedric answered. “I am officially your problem.”
“Very well.” Harry sighed. “Come along then.”
-{╣ ҉ ╠}-
As they set into the forest, Harry positioned his seeing stone such that it would act as a monocle of sorts, drawing Cedric’s attention.
“What’s with the stone?” He asked as they began weaving their way through the forest.
“A seeing-stone I acquired in a barter with a Dame of Elfin Land. It reveals the truth of things if one but looks through it.”
“Oh. Why are you using it?”
“To avoid entrances to Elphame, and thus encounters with its Faerie Queen. The Court that holds most sway, as of present, is that of the Unseelie. Malicious Folk that are bound by different laws and customs than their kin, the Seelie, and y Tylwyth Teg.”
“And I take it that we do not want to meet them?” Cedric asked, looking about the darkening forest.
“You do not want to meet them. At least, not as of now. I would be protected from their trickery, bound by similar oaths as their kin, and the other Folk of the lands as they are, however I have yet to introduce myself to a member of their people, thus the avoidance.”
The rest of their journey passed in silence, or what passed for silence in a forest, occasionally veering off to the right, taking a sharp left turn, and moving around a mound instead of over, all to avoid entering Elphame. The journey came to an end, however, when the sky turned dark and they were confronted by Bane and Ronan.
“It appears your presence was well-seen, Ronan.” Bane commented. “For the góēs has brought a companion in contra to his claims.”
“It was you, who claimed my distance from that which you claimed my kind, Good Bane.” Harry retorted. “A supposition woven through my words, not words of my own. I simply claimed a degree of separation from the human, not distance from magicians.”
“Calm, Bane. That he has seen fit to make his presence known indicates truth to his barter.”
“Why of course!” Harry commented, genuine offense entering his voice. “To make a barter one cannot fulfill is the height of hubris!”
“If you have not reneged on your word, then present Centaurus’ Spear, human.” Bane demanded.
“The spear, if you would?” Harry asked, tilting his head to Cedric slightly, receiving the spear from where it had been slung in a wrap on Cedric’s back.
Rolling the cover off of the spear, Harry held it forward, the haft resting in both hands, presenting it to the centaurs for inspection.
“The spear, as was promised, and as delivered.”
After looking it over with a critical eye, Ronan accepted the weapon, sliding it into a sling he was wearing on his side.
“There are three locations where entrances to realms not our own can be found.” Ronan began. “The first, this Forest. The second, the caves of the Mountains. The last, the Lake. You shall find-“
Before the sentence could be finished, he was cut off by a wailing in the air, a cacophonous drone that sounded like pain and screamed of blood. In terror, the centaurs fled, their hooves beating a staccato rhythm as they ran back to their shelters. Harry in turn looked to the sky, once more hearing a choir of knives and stolen souls. Face stricken with terror, he grabbed hold of Cedric’s hand and fled toward shelter himself, dragging Cedric along with him.
“What is that?” Cedric asked, voice laden with fear. “Harry, what is that?”
“Quiet.” Was Harry’s monosyllabic response, consumed by hearing the joyous cry of death and graves, the whispering winds rushing after their wild escape. Throwing all of his trust in his talismans Harry wove around mounds, leaped over rivers, and twisted around trees, Cedric barely managing to do the same.
As the castle came into view, the Lake’s shore closer, Harry heard the rushing of wind behind them, the glinting of knives and claws, the wailings of pain and blood. Fueled by desperation, Harry whispered a short whistle of a charm and threw himself and Cedric into the lake, spotting a cave and navigating to it, feeling the familiar tingle of Annwn as he surfaced in the open air of the cave.
“Fuck!” Cedric exclaimed as they came to the surface, his eyes slamming shut as they pulled themselves on the rock floor.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked, rushing to his side.
“Fine, fine.” He responded eyes still firmly squeezed shut. “Just, what was that?”
“The Sluagh. Or more properly, the Sluagh no marbh. The Host of the Dead.” Harry answered. “Leagues worse than the Unseelie, the host of the unforgiven dead rides wild in the sky, hunting for more souls to add to their number.”
“Did we just escape the Wild Hunt?” Cedric asked weakly.
“An origin of the tale, though not what is considered by the supernatural entities of the world to be a true Hunt. No, there are few fates worse than being caught by the Sluagh, and the Hunt certainly finds itself lacking.” Harry answered, still looking at Cedric concernedly. “Are you certain you’re okay? If the Sluagh managed to injure you…”
“No, no. Just… a bit of a secret I’ve been holding.” Cedric answered, cracking his eyes open by the barest sliver
“You needn’t tell me if you wish. I’ve certainly been keeping a secret or two from you.”
“How about an exchange?” Cedric asked, forcing a chuckle out. “A secret for a secret?”
“I’d be amenable.”
“You remember the Vault door? How I said it was a ‘magician’s secret’ how I knew where the spells were anchored?” Hearing an affirmative hum, he continued. “Yeah, more of a me secret. Healers aren’t really sure what caused it, but I have magical synesthesia. Projective thaumasthesia, they called it.”
Letting out a mix of a scoff and a laugh, Cedric sighed.
“You’d think it’d be great for magic, right? Fucking awful for it. I can barely tell the spell I’m casting from the magic in the building I’m in, because every. Damn. Building has magic in it.”
“That explains the harmonica.” Harry mused, beginning to elaborate upon Cedric’s visible confusion. “I wasn’t entirely truthful when I spoke of my magic when we first met. Whilst I do perform magic by using music and sound in general, I wouldn’t be capable of much without a secondary element, one that’s rather similar to your thaumasthesia. You might have heard the phrase ‘the rhythms of the world’? It’s rather more literal than most think, and I happen to be able to hear them.”
“Huh.” Cedric commented. “What do I sound like?”
“It’s… hard to quantify what the rhythms sound like.” Harry answered. “There are similarities between like things, primarily the instruments they sound like to my ears, but the forms of the rhythms themselves are… vaguer. I’m able to manipulate them to an extent via mapping the rhythms onto music theory, however such a system does have its flaws. As far as your own rhythm is concerned, it’s rather reminiscent of a barcarolle if you’ve heard it.”
“Where are we, by the way?”
“Why, Annwn, of course.”