Being Fiction by T. G. Sparrow

Author:T. G. Sparrow [T. G. Sparrow]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: T. G. Sparrow
Published: 2023-05-21T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Deeper Wounds

Just keep moving.

Gigglebrit pressed his knees into Lampellion.

Keep moving. Keep riding. Keep running.

The pain in his head had dulled to a monotonous throb, but his muscles ached all over. He had always assumed that riding horseback—or hippalectryon back, as it were—would be like driving a car: effortless. Press the gas and go. He was wrong. His legs burned with the effort of keeping balance. His core hurt just from staying upright. He was out of breath, he was out of energy, and he felt sick from the exertion of it all. But Lampellion pushed on, full speed. They needed to get away. Gigglebrit needed to get away.

He couldn’t think. He didn’t know what to think. The image of his parents scarred his mind. Earth. Home. All of it, burning away in the fire. Then his spell, his failure…It was all one horrible blur—an impossible, terrible nightmare. He tried to push it aside, but somewhere in the back of his mind, reality lurked, dripping like a leaky faucet, a constant pull at his attention.

Gigglebrit shook his head. That didn’t matter now. It didn’t help. He had to focus on riding.

They were heading toward Collywobbles Bridge. Gigglebrit recognized bits and pieces of the landscape—a lonely stand of trees, a particularly steep hill—and all around them, the landscape became stranger as they neared the Splat. But they were moving much faster than they had been before. What had taken hours upon hours of patient marching now passed in under half the time.

Gigglebrit’s mind spiraled. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go…he was the Hero. Heroes won. This was his story. Gigglebrit’s story. He was supposed to win…this wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

Weariness came in waves. The air was hot and dry. The sun’s heat pressed upon his skin, unwavering. Gigglebrit’s mouth felt parched and sticky. Hunger had come and gone, but thirst clawed at his throat. Exhaustion, physical and mental, threatened every moment. He could barely keep his eyes open…

Images flittered across his vision, staggered among bouts of darkness. A hall. Paintings. Faces. Blue faces. Yelling faces. Angry faces. Disappointment, frustration, grief.

Lobster was there, her wings broken in the grass.

Madame Martoonisplau. So earnest, so fierce. Study well, she had said. Do not let their efforts go to waste—or we will all pay the price.

Parifel Norwallis, drawn and thin, slaving away in the mines, Hobblebosh standing over her.

His parents, burning to ash in a whirlwind of scarlet mist.

Gigglebrit jolted awake.

He was still on Lampellion, still riding, but their pace had slowed. The air was cooler now. The piercing gold of sunset threatened the western horizon, pulling purples and blues from the east. Lampellion looked no worse for wear, but the others, humans and hippalectryons alike, were worn and tired. Pain plagued Gigglebrit’s neck and back—every movement hurt—but still, the gentler pace made him nervous.

They had to keep moving.

Then the one-armed figure of Bundersquash, riding just ahead, slumped sideways and fell from his hippalectryon.

Lady Ufferbub, Mardulo, and Toddleposter dismounted immediately, even before their hippalectryons had stopped.

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