Edwin walked through the dried riverbed, passing the remains of fish long since dried up and trinkets fallen off of river barges that no longer traverse the passage. As he walked, a trickle of blood dropped to the floor behind him, the trail originating from his unhealed shoulder. The wound pulsed with unbearable pain; red veins spread like a spiderweb stretching across his back.
The sound of horse hooves beating into the ground as the beast galloped at full speed put Edwin into a panicked sprint.
He did not know who chased him, only that the thing, for a man it could not be, was after him. Around him, the walls on either side of the riverbed rose higher and higher. Beneath him, the ground grew unsteady, as if the river itself were working to stop him from running. Deep-grown roots snaked out like a slithering serpent to trip him; like whips, they lashed out, striking his ankles with a piercing slash that cut him deep. Even as his legs bled and wept, he did not stop. He could not stop, stopping, Edwin knew, meant the horseman would win. The thing that rode on a beast of shadow and rotting, putrid flesh would take him.
The sky, orange and red, like flames dancing in the sky, illuminated him in rays of violet that burned in his eyes. Motionless, anchored at its high point in the sky, the sun was a void, a sphere of blackness sucking all that is and was into its endless maw. As if seeing his eyes upon it, the sun looked back; it locked his soul in place.
The very ground beneath him began to suck him in, like a pool of quicksand. Except the sand was different, in his panicked state, Edwin struggled to figure out why it seemed so wrong.
Blood, the sand was thick, bubbling, blood, he struggled to swim away, every forceful movement of his muscles only dragged him in deeper, deeper, and deeper. Until the sand of blood covered his mouth and nose, he drowned slowly. His lungs filled with the red liquid as he thrashed around helplessly. Then, as he feared, he was about to die, two large talons grabbed onto his shoulders, with a sick, wet snapping sound as the pit tried desperately to keep him in, he was ripped free.
With a thud, Edwin hit the ground. The thing that rescued him was a raven of abnormal size; larger than the largest horse he had seen.
Edwin heaved on the floor, clearing the contents of his lungs out onto the dirt beneath him. Unbridled tears fell from his face, his fear overwhelming him as the terror around him continued to morph into newer and worse scenes.
"Caught you." A voice unlike any Edwin had heard before spoke. Like three voices in one. A loud snort, that of a horse, joined in the voices.
Edwin, frozen in fear, could not move or speak, only shake as his bowels emptied uncontrollably. With a gulp, he raised his gaze to meet his pursuer.
The thing was impossibly large and bloated, clearly human in shape but blue and decaying. His face was pitted with boils and pustules, his fingers bone-like and skeletal, his legs bent backwards like a goat's. His midsection was cut open from left to right, black organs spewed out reaching as far as the hooves that ended his goat-like lower limbs.
"Say my name, say my name, say my name, Say my name." The thing repeated itself unendingly, ever second it inched forward until it stood close enough to reach out a skeletal finger to touch the brow of Edwin.
Eyes closed, Edwin finally opened his mouth, "Mathias, you are Mathias!" he sobbed as he screamed the name.
Then Edwin awoke, from head to toe, he was drenched in sweat, tears, and other unsavory things. He sat there for a moment, replaying the same dream he had lived a thousand times by now. Mathias was always there, lingering, watching, and waiting. For two years now, he has haunted Edwin's dreams.
"More night terrors?" Theda entered the room with a tray of scrambled eggs and strips of unseasoned beef. She was no longer the young woman who had taken care of Edwin alongside her grandmother, Mary, when he was just a helpless newborn.
She was twenty-one now, and in the full height of her womanhood. After a spring sickness had taken Mary a year ago, she now served as the maid of the Keep.
"Mathias, it's always Mathias," Edwin spoke as he wiped away the sweat from his face. Theda handed over the tray to Edwin, and he was grateful Robert had kept her in the household; she was a much better cook than her grandmother had been.
She watched him as he ate, thinking of what to say that she hadn't said before. "Dealing Death at such a young age is unnatural. I think you need to pray, actually pray, not that half-hearted uttering I see you do every holy day."
"I do pray, every day like Stuart says." Edwin lied. Theda frowned at his answer, seeing right through the lie.
She grabbed the tray after he finished, and even the crumbs on the plate were licked away. "Well, whatever you do to solve your night terrors, I suggest you do it soon." She paused before exiting the room, "I hear your parents talking sometimes; they are worried deeply about you."
Edwin was alone in his room now, left alone with his thoughts. He was quick to get dressed for the day of practice and training ahead. Even if only to keep his mind off of Mathias for the time being. His outfit was simple, little different from what the serfs working in the fields wore day to day.
His shoes were rough leather boots, overused from relentless practice; soon, they would need to be replaced. Already, the soles had begun to separate, causing Edwin to constantly dig out trapped pebbles or built-up dirt. His pants were of a simple black linen, much cooler than the thick woolen clothes he wore in winter. They were the newest addition to his closest, taken a year ago as part of the yearly tax instead of the usual foodstuffs. His shirt was a contrasting white linen with its arms cut short at the shoulders for better flexibility. A large black bull was sewn onto the shirt at the left breast, the symbol of the house.
Already, the clothes were becoming tight-fitting, and Edwin was beginning to show signs that he would be more like his dad in the height and size department than his mother.
"Soon I'll be so big no poacher would dare to hold me hostage again," Edwin reassured himself as he stepped out of his increasingly claustrophobic room.