Chapter 1: The Moonlight Ride of a Dullahan

The horse’s hooves clacked against the varied rocks and pebbles strewn along the winding path. This road was one the rider knew well, memorized down to the angle of branches and placement of a stump that sat unmoved since its cutting a century prior. It marked a turn in the road. Around this rider, trees formed a zig-zag pattern; some retained leaves grown in the first half of the year while others hadn’t. 

 

Faded black gloves held the reins with a simple tautness and gave the slightest of squeezes whenever a turn needed to be made. It was a lifetime and a half since the rider first took the role and responsibilities of a dullahan. As the pair continued onward, the horse snorted and visions of memories flowed around the rider. Nights of past visitations and moonlit journeys beside and beneath the one who anointed them. The memory that hung hardest tonight, however, was of the day they fell amongst many and stood up a second time.

 

                                  *        *         *

 

Sounds of clashing swords and whistling arrows pulsed in their ears and they were once again on the battlefield of a vengeance fueled conflict between monarchs that clung on for over a decade. Bodies laid out around them, too many to dare count; and the survivor continued to draw their remnant breaths before becoming an addition to the casualties. A row of birds in a nearby tree chirped in chorus then ascended and flew in different directions. 

Their eyes blinked before witnessing a pair of feet striding toward them between the corpses. One eye drifted up and saw a woman with flowing black hair singing a dirge and looking on mournfully. 

 

She paused as she took notice of the half-alive and turned her eyes to them. 

 

“Oh, so you’re able to see me? Quite intriguing. Very often, I’m only glimpsed by those who are nearer to the next world than this one,” she began as she knelt to caress a warrior’s cheek. Standing back up she continued, “Yes indeed. You’re closer to a place where the sensations of touch are beyond your reach.” 

 

A glimmer shone in their eyes as she smiled.

 

“I will safeguard you against such a torment. In return, however, you’ll be a traveler for me. A guide to assist the departed toward what lies beyond; what do you say?”

 

Their hand defied any attempt to give her an affirmative sign, prompting a tear to stream down their cheek. A single twitch was all they could manage before falling still upon the grass-laden field.

 

“That’s enough of an affirmation for me,” she said, giggling.

 

She gripped the survivor by their collar and pulled them up. They hung easily in hand and could only stare at her directly. Wounds from bladed weapons stretched across the body and the remnants of an arrow jutted out from their stomach. 

 

The woman kissed them deep and lingered for a moment longer than necessary before breaking away. 

 

“A not unpleasurable kiss, I’ll admit; and you’ll have an eternity to improve upon it.”

 

The world spun a little faster in the survivor’s eyes out of a combination of the wounds and the goddess’ kiss. 

 

“And so now, through the decree of the Phantom Queen, the Maiden of War, I anoint you my dullahan, my guiding shadow, to lead the departed to their next life or final rest. This geas shall bind us until the final leaf falls from the oldest tree.”

 

The goddess stepped back and conjured blue flames with a clench of her fist, which encircled the now-dullahan. First the ripped and worn clothes burnt away, leaving a naked body bearing the fresh wounds and old scars. These next went away under the power of the flames. 

 

“I can’t have a rider be wounded,” she said to them. 

 

After the healing, the blue bells went around the dullahan in crossing circles and began to spin, first slow then increasing rapidly. Their body shone with fierce blue light then the flames dissipated, one by one. Now the rider stood, head in hand, wearing a loose black cloak, bright black gloves, dark culottes, and black Hessian boots.

 

She smirked at the sight. 

 

“My, how dignified and elegant you look; far grander than you once were.”

 

A twitch of the finger beckoned the head to float closer. 

 

“You won’t be needing this for what you do, not really,” she said, “yet I can’t be leaving you without a horse.”

 

The head lifted up, she set a kiss between the brows and placed their foreheads together. 

 

“Never the twain shall part. I bind you to your rider forever.”

 

The two shared smiles before she reached out to wipe happy tears from the dullahan’s former face. Once more the blue flames emerged and proceeded to envelop the head, moving rapidly in a similar pattern to the body. In its place a horse stood, briefly pawing at the ground and flicking the tail.

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The dullahan reached out to stroke the hair and the horse leaned in, snorting passively.

 

“A dullahan and their mount. Quite a sight indeed,” the Morrigan said, joy leaping off her words. 

 

“Tonight you’ll not be needed out there. Rather, you’ll be wanted for something more personal.”

 

At that the trio were transported to a secluded spot in the forest. Not a chirp to be heard or a cricket to be listened to. 

 

She took the dullahan by the hand and thrust them to the nearest tree, then pushed them up so the pair were eye level. The Morrigan dragged her fingers under the shirt and up the body. They grew tense and longed for more. As she continued, the dullahan clung to her; their hands gripped at her sides, the fingers sunk in as a means of saying they wanted all of her. 

 

“Hah, so you want a goddess to plough you, then? That’s easily arranged.”

 

Her hand waved at the dullahan and within an instant, their outfit vanished. She went in and bit at their chest, then continued down; each one felt deeper to them. 

 

Upon the concluding bite at the hips, the Morrigan sucked deep, and a red mark formed that would not fade for decades. Her arms hitched under their legs and theirs went from her back and took hold of the tree. The Morrigan’s excitement and lust caused the gown to push forward several centimeters and she waved it away as cleanly as she did the dullahan’s attire. 

 

The dullahan lowered themself a touch to make it easier and the Morrigan responded in kind, with tease on top of tease. She watched thoughtfully as their body grew steadily redder. In one push her length went inside partially and she rocked back and forth steadily, in an attempt to enter in her entirety. Their toes curled inward, the dullahan wrapped their legs about the Morrigan’s waist and pushed her in more with each of her thrusts. 

 

Above the two the moon drifted to the horizon and the stars faded in the light of the sun. She came inside the dullahan as the first chirping of a bird declared it morning. They let go of the tree and held her tight once again. She held them in turn and stroked their back tenderly before putting a kiss to the first bite mark. 

 

“Your story is renewed, dear dullahan. Let us both see what you make of this one,” she said, smiling. Thereafter she faded like her title and the dullahan was clothed once more. They leapt on the horse and began to ride, slowly and surely fading to the shadows like their goddess. 

 

*       *       *

 

The horse slowed when she caught glimpses of light at a cottage’s window, either from a lamp or the fireplace. With a slight tug, the dullahan made her stop then dismounted. They stepped into the warm house and took brief notice of a family eating supper before turning their attention to the stairs and heading upward. An old man laid in bed and was getting his final views of stars, a night sky, and the shift of trees as breezes passed them by. His eyes widened at the visitor. 

 

“W-Who are. . .” he started, then coughed. “Wh-Who are . .. you?”

 

The dullahan pointed out the window to their mount. His eyes followed along and the realization came at once. 

 

“Come to take me, then? That’s alright. I’ve had a good life. I’ll keep those memories with me always.” 

 

A hand reached out to him and he took it with all the strength he had left. They walked together to the horse then mounted; the horse snorted before she took off in a gallop. As they journeyed to their destination the world blurred around the rider and their passenger. The old man dismounted and the dullahan went off, their visage more and more melding with the night. A first guiding completed, the dullahan felt a bit of pride well inside them alongside some confidence as no problems arose. 

 

“Good work, Dulla,” the Morrigan’s words rang inside. The horse briefly quickened her stride. 

 

*       *      *

 

Centuries gone by and the dullahan’s spoken of not as a guide for the dying and departed, but instead a thief who brings misery and torment to all families, with no care or thought to grief. 

 

The road changed from one of rocks and pebbles to one of plain dirt and the dullahan arrived at the newest traveller. A house barely lit by light and only a single occupant, a woman sitting at the window. 

 

“It’s been a time, hasn’t it Dulla?” her voice came from where she sat and caused the dullahan to freeze. 

 

“You needn’t fear. I escorted the family that lived here personally the night before. This age and world is wrought with pain. Sit with me a moment, won’t you? I always cherish your company.”

 

They went into the house and quickly ascended the stairs to the floor where the Morrigan sat. A chair was pulled to be at her side and the dullahan sat. She put her hand in theirs and they squeezed gently, the pair watching trees sway in the wind and an owl taking flight.

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