Wordsmith

And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, ‘Come and see.’ And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer.

• Revelation, Chapter Six

Chapter 00

Prologue

THE ROAD OUT of Gryphondale wasn’t exactly a spectacle to behold. Then again, the land of Gryphondale didn’t exactly hold as many wonders as say Equestria, or Zebrica. But the road out of Gryphondale was particularly unimpressive. A beaten dirt track cut clean through the Firelight Woods. Though it was impressive the builders managed to keep the road straight, cutting a wide swathe straight through the uneven countryside; it made it all the more disappointing to see the lack of finish. No asphalt, no cobbles, nothing. Just an uneven path littered with half-buried stones – smooth and uncovered after centuries of trampling – and let’s not forget the potholes. More like chasms than potholes.

Rolling down this disaster of public construction befitting only as a highway to hell was a single bow-topped wagon. Like the road it followed, the wagon was generally unimpressive, wooden wheels, clean white canvas. Drawing it was a single pony covered in brown drab robes, a hood pulled up over his head so only the tip of his black nose was visible, his dreary garb dappled with the snow drizzling from the sky to match the equally dreary and snow dusted surroundings.

Behind him perched on the front of the wagon was a figure completely obscured by her white garb, topped by a floral patterned bonnet.

Under the grim cold grey sky, the couple continued on their path to Equestria; and hopefully better climes. Things hadn’t been the same since the mass gathering of Windigo consuming all ends of the earth. But everypony knew Princess Celestia had a solution. She always had a solution to what ailed the world.

The couple’s progress was impeded however, by an explosion of leaves.

Though he would normally not let such a minor thing stop him from bringing his loved ones to a better place, what worried the stallion drawing the wagon was not the burst of foliage filling the air – he found the four figures leaping from the woods to block his path much more concerning.

As they landed, their sharpened hooves struck the ground with pronounced thuds, made only louder by the fact the four unicorns were laden down with rustic looking armour plating protecting them from their necks down to their fetlocks. The iron plates rattled as they shifted into a formation that blocked the wagon’s path, and upon seeing the fierce looking crossbows, the stallion drawing his cart skidded to a halt.

The wagon rocked into a pothole and jerked to a sudden stop, some boxes on board falling over and rattling noisily. Reacting with expectable fear, the stallion untethered himself and backed away from the four armoured ponies. Stumbling up the front of the wagon, he cowered beside his wife who cringed, huddling beside the stallion.

With smirks plastered over their faces, the armoured unicorns moved closer with their horns glowing. Their telekinetic glows engulfed their crossbows and they unencumbered the weapons. With a series of preparatory clicks they cocked the bows and aimed at the couple cowering at their wagon.

“You know the drill, kid. Hooves up, money out.” The lead unicorn demanded.

Gulping loudly, the stallion on the wagon held his wife tighter. “Oh no! Four mean looking highway-ponies!” though even as he said it, the exclamation sounded uninterested. Almost sarcastic.

Confusedly the four highway-ponies glanced at each other as the blue stallion lowered his head. A smirk was clearly visible on his face as his hood shifted back a little to reveal the green glint of his eyes in the murky shadow.

“Oh, I beg your pardon!” The pony continued in a loud snarky tone. “Four changeling assassins in drag! Lose the get-up, Kriss.” – He snapped his gaze to the lead highway-pony – “I’d recognise that ugly mug of yours through a brick wall!”

With a sigh, the lead unicorn lowered his head. Then chuckling he glanced over at his comrades and gave them the nod. In a blaze of magical green fire, all four highway-ponies were engulfed. And when the inferno passed, they were gone; replaced by four midnight black creatures with cratered uneven skin, glowing eyes, jagged horns pulsing with sickly energy and delicate looking insectoid wings that fluttered every so often like a nervous twitch.

They were replaced by changelings.

As he took a step closer, the lead changeling assassin – Kriss – was practically in a position to take over drawing the wagon for the owners. Lowering his crossbow across his chest, Kriss gave a fangy smile.

“Is that you, Darklight? Been a long time. Good to see you remember me, even after Chrysalis bucked your flank out of the hive.” Kriss called out with a shake of his head, almost like he was disappointed he didn’t get to hunt the pony to the ends of the earth. “Thought you could run from us forever?”

Reaching up, the stallion on the wagon pushed his hood back. Revealing his face fully, Darklight brushed a hoof over his own jagged horn before slicking back his own antennae.

“A colt can dream.” The changeling outcast answered with a smirk.

That made Kriss chuckle. He had to respect Darklight’s boldness. Most creatures would run for the hills and stay gone when they caught wind changeling assassins were looking for them. But not Darklight for some strange reason. That crazy changeling just ran headlong back into the line of fire. Kriss admitted he liked that kind of bravery.

Or maybe it was just stupidity. Kriss was always confused which of those two things he liked about ponies, because they both usually ended up providing easy meal-tickets.

“The queen’s gonna hand us a nice reward for your head, Darklight.” – Kriss assured before nodding to the second figure huddled up beside Darklight – “But first, I’m kinda peckish. I think you’ll give me a bit of one-on-one time with the missus there.”

Blinking a few times to check Kriss face and make sure the changeling was serious – Darklight looked to the bonnet on his shoulder, then back to Kriss before scoffing loudly. “Oh, you might want to reconsider that second thing. See, I married me a powerful ugly creature.”

The bonnet on Darklight’s shoulder suddenly lifted up and his ‘wife’ reeled at the comment. The white-clad figure gave a distinct gasp before they all heard a voice. A very loud, gruff and disturbingly masculine voice.

“How can ‘ya say that?” Darklight’s companion cried as the grim daylight shone on his face. “How can ‘ya shame me in front’a new ponies?”

All the changeling assassins gaped with confusion as the creature huddled up against Darklight was revealed in its complete and hideous glory. The diamond dog was typical enough as most diamond dogs went. Shaggy dust-coloured fur, a flat bulldog-like face with a maw full of predatory teeth and dark eyes. At least, his one remaining eye was dark; the other was covered by a black eye-patch with a distinct spiderweb of scars breaking up the fur on the side of his face.

Darklight pulled a face looking down at his diamond dog ‘mistress.’ “If I could make you prettier, Dusty, I would!”

Dusty gave an offended gasp, uttering after a short pause: “Ya’ll are not the colt ‘ah met three weeks ago.”

Almost immediately as the changelings were thrown off, both Darklight and Dusty leapt to their hooves and feet respectively. Their robes were thrown off in just a few deft motions, sending the clothes rippling into the air. Darklight’s horn glowed brightly with a levitation spell while Dusty’s nimble claws darted for his belt.

When the distracted changelings looked back down at the outcast and the diamond dog, they were shocked. Dusty had been wearing his usual chainmail poncho and gun-belt under his robes, and stood with one pistol aimed at Kriss, the other at the assassin by his side. And the flowery bonnet remaining perched on his head made his stance no less intimidating.

Saint and Samaritan – as he liked to call his ‘girls’ – each let out a heavy click as he thumbed the single-action hammers back and rested his fingers on the triggers. The mighty barrels of the five-shot revolvers were like gaping caverns ready to spew forth iron buckshot surfing on dragon’s fire. Kriss hadn’t seen firearms of such calibre often – as gunpowder weapons were a rare enough sight anyway – but he knew damn well he shouldn’t be on the barrel-end of one.

Darklight in the usual pony or changeling tradition of wearing nothing stood steadfast levitating a pair of small concealable crossbows out in front of him. They too clicked as they were prepared to fire at the remaining two changeling assassins.

As the opposition shifted uneasily, Darklight gave a confident smirk. “Trot on, Kriss.” he warned darkly.

Dusty mimicked the smirk. “If ya’ll decide not ta’, ‘ah swear by m’ah pretty floral bonnet ‘ah will put ‘ya in the dirt.”

The awkward pause continued for a solid sixty seconds as the changeling assassins contemplated their situation. In all honesty, being duped like that didn’t feel good. They were itching for a little payback. But clearly their folly could dish out just as much as they could take. If the changelings fired now; chances were it was the last thing they’d ever do.

Grimacing, Kriss narrowed his eyes at Darklight, his once-upon-a-time hive-mate barely reacting. “Are you going to shoot us, Darklight?”

“Yeah.” Dusty answered cheerfully for his comrade. “Course, that ain’t exactly plan-A!”

“Alistair!?” Darklight bellowed.

And in response there came a voice. A voice that commanded immediate attention, it shouted out from a concealed position in the back of the wagon – but at the same time it seemed to go ignored.

“The changelings were bad shots, so when they fired they only hit the trees on the roadside.” Said the voice in a compelling tone. And while the voice would have held the attention of young and old at a book-reading, the voice barely pulled a reaction out of all present.

The changelings barely reacted as it spoke to them. They hardly even registered it. Still, the voice pierced the veil. And while their ears and mind ignored the words, the narrative still entered their souls. The words wove their fate. Commanded their actions, and without knowing exactly how or why, they made sure that the voice spoke nothing but truth.

They fired.

And with a thwip and a series of thuds, the bolts whooshed right past the intended targets and struck the bark of the roadside trees.

Kriss looked down at his own crossbow and realised he had fired too, despite not being ready. He’d simply unleashed a bolt into the roadside. He gaped angrily for a moment, wondering how he could have let something so stupid happen. Then looking to his fellow changelings, he saw they were similarly obfuscated.

A heavy chuckle drew Kriss’ attention, and looking up he saw Dusty un-cock his pistols before resting the heavy barrels on his shoulders.

“Premature discharge happen ta’ ya’ll often?” he asked with a sly smile.

Kriss roared in anger, throwing down his crossbow. As the telekinetic energy faded, a new glow of sickly green magic flared in his eyes and around his horn. From a magical force concealed somewhere within his gooey centre he drew forth a blade forged out of fire. The blade hovered by the changeling’s side, wavering and spitting as the green flames licked at the dark air surrounding the weapon.

But before the assassin could even leap on his prey, the voice called out to them again.

“Shamed by incompetence, Kriss made himself spontaneously combust!” it said.

Kriss’ blade vanished, but the magical flames engulfing his horn remained. He wasn’t thinking. He just did exactly as the voice narrated it would happen. The fire spread over his face, down his neck and over his body. Right down to his cratered fetlocks, the flames crackled and consumed him before the changeling was completely immersed in fire. Fire burst from his wide eyes, and his agape mouth as he let out a cry of burning agony.

And then in a flash of green, Kriss vanished with a magical pop!

The voice continued with one final command. “The rest of the changeling assassins ran for the hills with their tails between their legs!”

They needed very little convincing. Shivering like pudding carried on the back of a pony in full gallop; the three remaining changelings turned tail and ran. They ran a good couple of dozen paces before their wings fluttered and they took flight into the night sky – howling and whimpering like hyenas the whole way.

Watching them go, Darklight laughed and tucked away the crossbows. “That’s right, bitches! And don’t come back!” he whooped after them.

Dusty chuckled heavily before twirling his pistols and slotting them back into the holsters on each hip. “It’s clear, Alistair!” he called over his shoulder.

The canvas top of the wagon shifted and lifted up on the right side. A figure dropped from the carriage and landed with a thud, curled up into a ball for a moment as it recovered from the short drop. With one limb pressed against the side of the wagon for support, the passenger straightened up on both legs and stepped out of the shadows before watching the three black dots that were their former changeling assailants disappear into the distance.

Looking from them to the pile of ash that was left of Kriss, the human gave a small grin.

Everything about the creature was out of place. From his clothes, right down to his species. For all intents and purposes there shouldn’t have been anything like him in Equestria, or any of the surrounding nations for that matter.

To add to that out-of-place-ness, the man looked like he was on his way home from his crappy part-time-job rather than an extended journey across rough terrain. Black shoes and slacks, the top button of his black and brown polo was un-done, the light beige jacket worn over the top hanging open to reveal the ‘McDonalds’ logo printed on the left breast. His shaggy-cut ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ hairstyle was covered by a black cap bearing the same logo, and his eyes were framed by a set of ‘fashionable’ glasses. You probably know the kind, the ones with the really wide arms that look more like blinders than the traditional spectacle frame.

In one hand he was holding a plain notebook. Written on the first page were three phrases in red ink. The changelings were bad shots, so when they fired they only hit the trees on the roadside, Shamed by incompetence, Kriss made himself spontaneously combust and The rest of the changeling assassins ran for the hills with their tails between their legs were all written in Alistair’s loopy handwriting.

In his other hand he held the quill that had written the phrases that had magically commanded the changeling assassins’ actions. The feather was long and plushy, stark white and bound to a pointy tip carved out of a white marble-like material with what looked like horse-hair.

Though the artefact didn’t look like much, it wasn’t looks that made it valuable.

“Did it work?” Alistair asked holding up the peculiar quill.

Dusty was the first to reply with a nod. “Sure did, monkey-man!”

“Like a charm.” Darklight added as he hopped down from the wagon and started tethering himself up to draw the carriage again. “It all happened, exactly as you wrote and read it.”

“Good.” Alistair breathed with a nod as he looked the quill over before tucking it into his jacket pocket. “That’s good. I think I got this Jedi-mind-trick thing figured out.”

Dusty grunted. “Y’know, it scares me.”

“What? The fact Alistair just made Kriss explode himself?” Darklight asked before using his teeth to tighten the straps over his back. “Or the fact he can re-write reality as he sees fit?”

“Neither. Jus’ the fact ‘ah don’ understand his references half the time.” Dusty admitted, pulling off his bonnet and throwing it over his shoulder. “What in tarnation is a Jedi?”

Alistair chuckled before climbing onto the front of the wagon beside Dusty and waving his hand ominously. “These are not the questions you want to ask, mutt.”

Letting out a gruff ‘hah’ as if he actually understood that joke, the diamond dog reached back and produced a brown Stetson. Shaking it out in one claw, Dusty perched it on his head and pulled the hat low over his brow.

“Next stop; Equestria!” he proclaimed. “Giddy-up!”

With a roll of his eyes, Darklight effortlessly picked up the pace again, pulling the wagon along. “Oh, go giddy-up yourself!”

Their laughter echoed off into the eternal winter as they continued their way – Equestria looming into view over the brow of the next hill.

With quill and Stetson, riding a black steed; they went forth conquering…