The Necromancer's Ambition

by KuroiTsubasaTenshi

Rating: teen
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Adventure
Length: 43589

Necromancers. The foulest of ponies. Those who would sacrifice their own kind to further their unholy powers. To meet one is certain doom. So why am I still here? Forget the bonds of legend and listen to the truth of my tale.

Necromancers. Sickly ponies bathed in cloaks of darkness, bringing ruin to all who fall under their shadow, terror to those who meet their gaze. Ripping the dead from the grave and conscripting them to their army of evil and conquest. Woe to the towns that dare draw their interest.

Such are the legends.

This is a story about one of the kindest ponies I know.

---

Now on Equestria Daily!

Now with a sequel, From Dusk to Night.

Beta Reader Special Thanks:

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Published 2013-07-30 20:20:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-12 22:00:48 UTC

1 - Waylaid

The storm was but a dark speck behind me. For all its crying and howling, it seemed to have little interest in following me. Once I broke free of the cloud curtain, the journey to Pasture was easy, sunny, and even a little boring. The mostly barren hills certainly weren’t inclined to jump up and show off their beauty, anyway.

Some ponies might wonder why a pegasus would ever flee from a storm, but here’s a little secret: we’re not immune to extreme climates. You will respect rogue weather, unless you want to be torn apart feather-by-feather was the mantra of my weather instructor. Not much of a writer, but she got the point across.

As much as I would have liked to shut down that storm, even if I had been one-hundred percent on my game, it would have left me a sopping wet mess of charcoal hair wrapped in a soggy green scarf and tangled blue mane. While looking like a swamp monster would have been an annoyance, the bigger concern was the potential for serious illness.

Funnily enough, my flight satchels—the A-shaped, smaller-and-less-likely-to-chafe-the-wings cousin of saddlebags—would have been unaffected. Unlike the standard satchel set, I had forgone getting my gear-and-pencil cutie mark on the buckle in favour of a more-durable nylon.

My victory was tempered somewhat by the fact that I had to trek out to Pasture in the first place. While years of travel had made constantly changing plans a fact of life, the little backwater was my last choice of emergency town. Unfortunately, it was also my only choice.

Four hours off the road and sporting a nasty old legend about a necromancer, Pasture was less than ideal. A fearsome defiler of the dead, the Necromancer knows no boundaries. Those foolish enough to wander the roads at night have vanished, only to turn up later as part of the Necromancer’s restless army. A classic boogeymare’s tale.

I’d learned just enough about magic to know few unicorns could handle the strain. But I was also not so naive as to believe the legend didn’t have some basis in reality. Personally, I suspected wild predators sneaking out of the woods. A little biased, but spending a lifetime next to the killer forest that is the Everfree tends to do that to a pony.

Whatever the real deal was, the key would be to figure out where everypony else was looking and walk the other way.

True to its name, Pasture was a small village sitting in the middle of a plain. Lopsided wooden shacks sprung up from the grass, looking something like an oversized grove of mushrooms. A withers-high fence, unlikely to stop even a foal from escaping, ran a circle around the town. Several clumps of ponies were scattered along the roads, almost assuredly engaging in the day’s gossip.

As I approached, the expected smell of dust, disturbed greens and day-old fruit was overshadowed by the sharp scent of iron. A few seconds’ ponderance was cut short when I realized the group closest to the gate contained not one, not two, but three sentries. A closer look gave me all the reasons I needed: Their barding was a patchwork mess of scraps, helmets were nowhere to be found and their spears were crooked enough to border on scythes.

Their leader, an orange unicorn mare with a chipped ear, met my gaze. She pulled herself taller and cocked her head to the side, staring out from under her fiery red forelock. “Ain’t seen you ‘round here, stranger. What’s your business?”

I gave her a onceover and smirked inwardly. Here was a young mare, no older than me, pretending she wasn't just some wannabe guardsmare posturing in front of a misshapen wooden arch.

“Had my travel plans disrupted by a rogue storm,” was my level reply. “I’m hoping to get a room for the night.”

The mare circled me, staring me up and down at random intervals, a technique I’d seen my mother use with far more skill. I’d even given it a few tries, myself. If there was one thing this mare and I had in common, it was that we lacked the stature to make it work against most ponies.

I raised an eyebrow as she finished her lap. “Is something wrong?”

“Nah, you look fine enough. Just stay out of trouble. As for the inn, hit the town square. Can’t miss it.”

“Trouble? Is there something I should be aware of?”

The mare grunted. “Just don’t steal anypony’s shit and you’ll be fine.”

“Thank you.” I gave a quick nod and carried on my way.

That mare was hiding something, and rather badly, I might add. However, I wasn’t too keen on pestering a guardsmare. Not when there were surely more chatty ponies around town. I made a mental note to go looking for the bar when I had the chance.

The day was wearing on and a red tint settled on the road. I trotted toward the horizon, following a fresh set of wheel tracks as it cut through the intermingling of older hoofprints. Smaller branches broke off here and there, narrowing as they approached the various huts.

Most of the houses managed to be the same without actually being the same, as though somepony had drawn them up without bothering to use a ruler. They were all vaguely rectangular, jammed into the ground at an angle and even from the main road I could see several rows of planks were crooked.

I wondered just how sturdy they really were and, as if on cue, a stiff breeze washed over the town. Neither the structures nor the ponies around them seemed to take much notice.

As I passed the first few groups of ponies, I noted their coats and manes were tidy enough for brushing to be something other than once-in-a-blue-moon. A couple wore ball caps and a third a tied kerchief, all of which appeared to be cared for. These ponies were rather meticulous compared to those of other Equestrian backwater towns. Although, being from Ponyville, prime target of Canterlot snobbery, I tried not to be too harsh when it came to strictly social attire.

I could feel several eyes wandering my way, crawling up and down my coat. Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal, me being a stranger in a little town and all. However, as I came across the sixth set of ponies, unease crept into my muscles. The second armed group wasn’t particularly notable, especially if I was charitable enough to assume they had an organized night watch. But this was the third set of guards, crossing into high alert.

A knot formed in my stomach. Come on, nothing to see here. Just a traveling mare, that’s all.

My ears flicked, picking up on every shuffle, every whisper. I forced my eyes to keep a casual pace, to belie nothing as I assessed each group. Most of the guards met my gaze, while the others looked away. In the end, they returned to their conversations and I breathed a sigh of relief.

During my travels, I’d found fear of outsiders to be an all-too-common trait of smaller towns. Throw in some minimally trained ponies, who often consider their gear permission to act like a bunch of schoolyard bullies, and one has a recipe for violence.

When I reached the town square, I quickened my pace, eager to be free from the townsfolks’ suspicious eyes. If I was lucky, perhaps the innkeeper would be in a less edgy mood.

The inn was indeed impossible to miss, its broad, two-story frame dwarfing everything else. As if size wasn’t enough, a bright yellow and blue sign, accented by a cheesy little sun, proclaimed it the ‘Sunny Skies Inn’.

I smirked. Whatever. Any place to rest my hooves.

2 - Night Out

As I walked into the lobby of Sunny Skies Inn, each creak of the floorboards sent some of the tension drifting off behind me. The wall was a faded blue, with the odd bright spot clinging to the past. Two once-white benches flanked the door, while an inactive fireplace sat in the left wall. Trying a bit hard for my tastes, but I did have to admit that it was rather homely.

The innkeeper, an old unicorn stallion, sat behind a rickety, wooden desk. I was almost afraid if I breathed at it the wrong way, it would come crashing down. However, the apparent impending burial didn’t seem to concern him.

The stallion looked up, wearing a wide grin on his large, brown muzzle as it poked out from under his bushy grey forelock. “Hey, there! Welcome to the Sunny Skies! Name’s Earnest Care.”

I stopped short, the town’s mood leaving me unprepared for his enthusiasm. My smile was comparatively half-baked. “Um, hi. I’m Dusky Down. I was hoping to get a room.”

“Ah, yes. We’ve got plenty of those,” Earnest replied. His horn lit up and a few papers rustled over each other. “Will that be a regular room or one of our deluxe suites?”

One of? Usually, it was the deluxe suite. I was almost curious, but decided I’d rather not wreck my budget. Regardless, I wondered if Pasture used to be a bigger deal than it was, or if it was Earnest who thought his place was a bigger deal than it was.

“Just a regular, thanks.”

“All righty. One regular, it is.” He scribbled on one of the papers. “And how many nights?”

“Just the one.”

“Really? Just passin’ through, eh?”

I nodded. “Ran into a wild storm on the road and had to make a detour up here.”

“Can’t blame you. Been in my fair share of ‘em and let me tell you, they ain’t pleasant.”

“Not at all.” I tapped a hoof, wondering if I should try to get something out of him. He seemed cheerful enough and the lobby was completely dead. In the end, I decided to go for it. “Speaking of storms, you seem to have a different kind brewing over here.”

Earnest’s face grew serious and he snorted. “The militia? Bah, don’t mind them. They’re just on another one of their witch hunts.”

“Hunting what?” I was certain I knew the answer, but a part of me wanted there to be more to it than old folklore.

“Somepony ‘saw’ the Necromancer making a move toward the town.” He raised his hooves and made a pair of air quotes. “Now everypony’s up in arms, looking for a fight. Why the mayor allows it is beyond me.”

“You don’t sound very impressed.”

“You wouldn’t be either if you saw how frequently this happens. Besides, even if they weren’t chasing ghosts, something like that calls for the Guard, not some over-eager pups with twigs.” Earnest waved a forehoof.

As much as I had reservations about the Guard, even a squad of corrupt soldiers would likely be as effective as their entire militia. Then a thought struck me. “I didn’t see anyone official out there. I take it they aren’t very impressed, either?”

“Mayor’s done his fair share of crying wolf too, so they ain’t exactly chomping at the bit.”

I blinked, the statement taking a second to register. “Really? The mayor? If he’s like that, why would anypony stick with him?”

“Because he tells them the militia’s supposed ‘show of power’ scares her—off.” His pause was so short that it was barely there, something I’d have dismissed if I hadn’t caught the twitch of his ear. “And they want to believe it.”

“Huh.” I frowned inwardly. It was time to give it a rest, which was a shame since we were in the middle of the juicy stuff. In the end, I figured it was for the best, given that I wasn’t exactly looking for trouble. “Well, I think I’ll just stay clear of the whole thing.”

“Smart mare. Oh, and that’ll be ten bits.”

My room was not unlike those of the dozens of other small towns I’d visited. Except there was usually more brown than blue. Nevertheless, it had the standard stiff-looking bed, the dresser whose drawers would go unused and a small, round table.

The first order of business was to check my scarf, namely to make sure moisture hadn’t collected and found its way into the sheath. Some ponies might balk at the idea of keeping a wingblade so close at hoof, but a lone mare on the road needs to be prepared. As it turned out, everything was quite dry.

Next, I swung my hip, tossing my flight satchels onto the table. I gave each bag a once-over, looking for tears, not that I was expecting any. Four years of use had shown me that Rarity’s nylon was worth every bit of its hefty price. But neglect leads to catastrophe, so I take stock when I can.

Undoing the buckle, I slipped the flap open and poked my muzzle in. Despite the rough trip, everything was still more or less how I’d left it. I nudged the rolled-up map aside and snatched my hair brush.

I trotted over to the dresser and peered at the mare in the mirror. She stared back, her teal eyes scrutinizing me. Her coat was ruffled in a few places, nothing a quick touch-up couldn’t fix. I slipped the brush onto my wing and worked my way around my body.

Next, I noticed a few strands of my mane had pulled themselves loose. I frowned as I undid my hair tie. Predictably, I spent the next few minutes fighting with my mane before it finally straightened out. With the tie replaced, I moved on to my forelock and tail, the latter being just as stubborn as my mane, while the former was practically a pushover.

With my grooming complete, I set the brush aside, turned to leave and stopped. One side of my scarf had pulled the other lopsided. A quick tug later and I was all set to go.

Perfect. Now where’s that bar?

The tavern was, as expected, rather small. As I glanced over the worn wooden tables and chairs, I wagered sixty ponies could fit comfortably inside. Which probably meant they’d crammed in at least one hundred at some point or other.

At that moment, though, the day’s excitement seemed to be keeping the youths out on the street, leaving a paltry dozen or so patrons. On the one hoof, that meant slim pickings for me. On the other, no suspicious zealots breathing down my neck.

I trotted up to the counter where a couple stallions were getting well acquainted with their beers. I slid up beside them and ordered a cider for myself. It wasn’t particularly flavourful, but then again, not everything can be Sweet Apple Acres quality.

“So she says, ‘I sheen him with my own eyes!’ and when I asked if she had anypony else with her, she said, ‘no.’ Imagine that,” said the closest stallion, a wide, red-coated pegasus with a crooked bowler’s hat. Judging by his gut, this wasn’t his first night of beer binging.

“Hah, that’sh foals fer ya! Alwaysh tryin’ to find ways to butt heads with the toughest thing on the block.” The other stallion, a brown-coated earth pony dressed in a tie and collar, shook his head. This one had a combed mane, which was balanced out by his fetlocks. Half the mug would disappear when he reached for it. He even seemed a bit chiseled in places, although that was ruined by a beer gut that was a twin to his buddy’s.

“Sho true.” The pegasus stared at his drink as though it had the most profound message written on it. “Say, what if, one of these days, they do find the real deal? Think we gonna have to bail them out?”

The earth pony chuckled. “Pro’bly. Y’see them swing those things around? Couldn’t hit the broadside o’ a barn if you ask me.”

“Mmmm, no kidding. Rate they’re going, we’ll die of old age. When they bag themselves a zombie, then we’ll talk. Hey, barkeep! Fresh one here!” The pegasus swiveled his stool, finally looking in my direction. “Hey, look, Mocha! Got one schmart mare in here.”

Mocha squinted past his buddy. “‘Cause she ain’t from around here.”

“Ya don’t say.” The pegasus stared at my cutie mark. And kept staring.

“Naw, I do say.” Mocha frowned. “Pay attention, Cedar!”

I cleared my throat, feigning confusion. “Me, smart? Just for being here? I’m afraid I don’t understand, being an out-of-towner and all.”

Cedar perked up and grinned. “Well, today’s your lucky day, missy. ‘Cause I’m all in the know.”

Practically on a silver platter. Leaning forward, I cocked my head. “All in the know, huh?”

“Yep. Y’shee, we been getting ponies coming into town, talking about zombie attacks and stuff. Some got hurt, but most got away okay. Zombies ain’t exactly known for their fastness, y’know. Got some dead ones turning up, but pretty much all look to be bandits.”

“Bandits?” I blinked, wondering if the townsfolk had tried drawing the connection yet. Highwayponies getting creative were certainly more believable than true, blue zombies. But then why do the bandits turn up dead?

“Small time tough guys.” Cedar waved a hoof. “Maybe too tough for their own good.”

The place was definitely more complex and dangerous than my sunny walk had led me to believe. However, it was something I knew better than to stick my muzzle into. I’d just fish for a few more details to make my departure less of a gamble than my arrival.

“That sounds awful.” I threw in just an edge of horror and raised a forehoof to my chest. “How long have they been around?”

Cedar looked to his glass for wisdom again. “The zombies? Forever. Bandits? Kinda forever too, I guess.”

Oh, gee, thanks. Could you be more vague?

I fought to hold back a frown, but quickly realized there was little point. “My, these things have been haunting the roads forever? That’s a really long time.”

“Forest too. Oh, and the mountains.” Mocha finally cut in.

“Who ashked you?” Cedar scowled.

“She started talkin’ to the both of us, y’know.”

Cedar waved his hoof. “Anyway, the forest and mountains are pretty big. Someponies tried to get rid o’ them, but never seems to stick.”

I tried to recall what the map looked like, but it was a little fuzzy. My gut was telling me to just go back the way I’d come, although I was certain there must have been a more optimal route. If I was remembering right, anyway I swung it, I’d have to pass over or by some part of the forest. I made a mental note to find the thinnest section to fly over.

“Shay.” Cedar’s voice snapped me back to reality. “Now that we’re acquainted, lemme buy you a drink?”

“Oh, that does sound nice,” I put on my best fake smile as I rose from my seat. “But I really have to use the fillies’ room first. Is that okay?”

“Yesh, yesh, of course, take your time.” Cedar smiled back, his wings unfolding just a bit. “Hey, barkeep! One of dem fancy vodka drinks for my new friend here!”

I trotted round the corner, out the back and past the outhouse.

3 - Not For Hire

As I sat alone in the dining room, I wondered if perhaps I had mistaken the time and gotten up too early. But while a token grogginess remained, I felt far too energetic for that to be true. I supposed the other patrons could just be late-risers, or, given the town’s location, not even exist.

I tapped a forehoof against the scratchy mix of white and bare wood that made up my table. I gave it a push, but it hardly even wobbled. Seemed everything at Sunny Skies was sturdy enough, just not that particularly pleasing to look at.

Then again, the cushion I was sitting on was soft and free of stains. In fact, the bed linens had been in pretty much the same condition. Perhaps the town just had a lack of handyponies.

The rumbling of my stomach cut through my idle thoughts. I glanced around the empty room, wondering if anypony was even working the kitchen.

That was when the orange mare from the day before sauntered in. Her armour had been replaced by an apron and her spear by a pencil. I had a feeling the latter would have been the better weapon.

Pinned to her apron was a crooked name tag, the scrawled letters declaring her ‘Blaze”. I stole a peek at her flank, the three flaming hoofprints giving me some decent theories for her full name.

Miserable might have been overstating things, but the pursed lip and distracted stare told me she was getting there. She didn’t even notice me until she was in the middle of the room. Some fire crept back into her eyes as she trotted over. “You.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Me.”

Blaze stared for a few long seconds before returning to her more dignified annoyance. “I suppose you want breakfast.”

“Please.” I smiled politely, hoping she would stop directing her frustration at me. I wanted food, not feud.

“Today is pancakes and hay bacon, glazed in maple syrup. Choice of side is fresh lettuce, blueberries or tulips,” she recited with all the enthusiasm of a bored child.

“Tulips sound great.”

She gave me something vaguely resembling a nod and trotted back to the entrance, her horn glowing orange-yellow. She stuck her head into the corridor, but I could hear her as though she were still standing beside me. “One tulip!”

While I was no stranger to the roadside diner style, this was the first time I’d seen an inn using it. I supposed that it fit their theme, or would have if their waitress would stop scowling.

“One tulip, coming up!” The second mare’s voice flooded the room, somehow both calm and professional. Somepony didn’t know her strength.

Blaze returned, rubbing one ear with her magic.

“Is she always that loud?” I tilted my head, my own ears flicking.

“Just an off day,” Blaze mumbled, staring at the table beside me. She opened her mouth, but indecision lingered like a second tongue. She worked her jaw a few times before she finally glanced side-to-side, then back to me. “I’ve got money.”

“So do I.” I shrugged. Perhaps having seen too many places had skewed my perception, but I’d found what she said to be a surprisingly common pickup line. She leaned in closer and I almost pulled my head back.

She spoke in a low tone, “Look, I’m stuck in here, so I need eyes on the outside.”

I blinked. Is she serious?

I wondered if the spy novel dialogue was because her day job was keeping her or she was trying to circumvent a certain somepony. I found myself leaning more toward the latter, but there was only one way to find out for sure. “And what makes you think this is something that concerns me?”

Blaze shrunk back just a bit, confusion creeping up her face. “Because I’m offering money. That’s how adventurers work, right?”

I had no idea how she mistook me for some kind of hero-for-hire, but I wasn’t about to get pulled into one of those situations. “Whoa, hang on a moment. First, I’m a traveler, not an adventurer.”

“There’s a difference?” Blaze fixed me with a blank stare.

“One goes looking for trouble and the other doesn’t. Second, what you’re really looking for are mercenaries. Third, how did you even come to that conclusion?”

“You were all calm and cool when everypony was watching you. That must mean you’re some kind of hardened adventurer with awesome skills who finds treasure and laughs in the face of danger.” She stared through the wall, an unmistakable passion in her eyes. I swear it was like looking a few years into the past. Except I wasn’t ever that obvious. I think.

“Um, no. That’s... a pretty big stretch of logic. I think you’ve been reading a few too many Daring Do novels. Besides, if you’re going to ask what I think you’re going to ask, it’s a matter for the guard.”

Her lip pursed. “Who are you, my pa?”

Gotcha. I pressed my advantage. “He’s right, you know. Even if the Necromancer was real—”

“Is! I’ve seen him with my own eyes, black cloak, skull mask and all!”

I sighed. “Okay, fine, but even if you found him again, think of the magnitude of what you’re facing. Somepony with command over the dead wouldn’t go down easily to soldiers, never mind a town militia.”

Blaze puffed her chest out. “I’m not afraid.”

Neither was I. A deep frown crossed my face and I gave her the sternest look I could muster. “You’re not the only one who might get hurt.”

“We’re not afraid.” Her eyes narrowed.

“That’s not what I meant. If you die, who is left to pick up the pieces? If you fail and he comes here, who else is likely to get hurt?” I lost myself for a moment, my words slowing. A bloodied guard flashed through my mind and in that instant, he begged me to run. To leave them all behind. How many bodies? No, concentrate.

Blaze’s expression faltered, giving way to confusion, even doubt. Maybe she’d seen it in my eyes, or perhaps my words were enough. Regardless, once I met her gaze, her defiance returned.

“I won’t and we won’t.”

I shook my head. “No victory is assured and without cost. I cannot help you.”

“Your food should be ready,” she mumbled through clenched teeth and wandered off.

The breakfast was quite delicious, everything coming straight from the pan, and a much tastier start to the day than hay rations.

After delivering my food, Blaze slunk off. Even though I was relieved that she finally got the hint, I also felt kind of bad. The conviction to act, to do what she thinks is right, isn’t the most common quality around. But a pony has to know her limits and that’s something she needed to figure out before she learned it the hard way. Or worse, became the lesson for somepony else.

I returned to my room, repacking what little I’d taken from my satchels. I made a double check, then a triple. It was a habit I had picked up during my first long Manehattan stay. I had just gotten my hooves on my very own copy of Daring Do and the Sapphire Stone, an invaluable treasure for a young filly such as myself. I was so busy fussing over packing it just right, that I accidentally left my travel rations under the table. All ten of them. My father, a rather meticulous merchant, was less than impressed.

As I trotted toward reception, echoes of raised voices gave me pause.

“...beat him, the town can thrive again! And with the mayor’s bounty, think of how much medicine we could buy! We could even fix this place up good as new!” Blaze’s voice was eager, almost frenzied.

“Oh, no, you’re not making this about me, young mare,” the cook declared in that stern, putting-her-hoof-down tone all mothers seem to know.

“But—”

“I don’t care if the mayor offered two thousand bits or two million bits,” Earnest added, not a hint of his previous cheerfulness to be found. “Only a fool rushes to her death.”

“I. Won’t. Lose.” The anger in her words practically left a trail of fire.

“Is that so? Then show me. Pretend the Necromancer is right over there. Yes, right there. Strike him down.”

Blaze let out a yell, strong and confident. The whistling of a weapon piercing air followed with equal ferocity.

“Solid. If he isn’t wearing armour.”

“Why would a necromancer be wearing armour?”

“Because ponies are trying to kill him.”

There was a long silence. I pictured the two standing several paces apart, each bearing an immovable stare.

After a minute or two I decided I’d waited long enough. I needed to get going and I’d seen arguments like that run circles for days.

I trotted the rest of the hall and into the reception area. Sure enough, Earnest and an armoured Blaze stood in the middle of the room, practically facing each other down. Each of them looked up in turn.

Standing at Earnest’s side was a cream-coated mare, the silvery-white and violet streaks of her mane done up in a bun. She wore a large apron, not a stain on its surface, and her name tag spelled out ‘Silver Platter’ in neatly printed letters. I glanced at her flank, where a vibrant rendition of her namesake provided a stark contrast to her poor withered leg.

“Is this a bad time?” I held up my key with a wing.

Earnest’s cheer was back in an instant. “No, no, of course not. Thank you for your patronage.”

As he levitated the key away, I finally got a good look at his cutie mark. It was a brass key just a bit bigger than the one I’d returned. Fitting, perhaps a bit too much. But idle thoughts could wait until I was out of the crossfire zone.

I smiled. “It was a great stay. Especially the food.”

Silver’s grin was as jolly as her husband’s. “Glad to hear. Be sure to come back now, you hear?”

“Of course.” I nodded, heading for the door. “Farewell!”

“Farewell!” was the chorused reply.

As the door swung shut, I stepped into the calm of the early morning square. The sun peeked over the rooftops, bathing the stores in a beautiful, orange-yellow light. It really was a pretty little town.

I looked up to the sky. Perhaps when things had blown over, I could come back and do some real sightseeing. But until then, I had a journey to make.

4 - On the Road Again

I perched on a cloud, watching the forest below me. Despite being the shortest section this side of Pasture, it nearly reached out to the horizon. I expected about a minute of flying, which was twice as long as I would have liked. Any one of those trees could hide an ambush. In fact, so could the clouds.

My eyes traced a route through the cumuluses. If I could speed across the sky, perhaps I could deny anything hiding in the forest a chance to react. As crazy as it sounded, flying right out in the open was probably my best bet.

Crouching low, I prepared for a speed launch. That’s when that soulless thing came blasting out of the forest canopy, the branches crumpling noisily under its power. I barely had time to meet its empty eyes before it was upon me.

Sheer reflex threw me to the side and I tumbled off the cloud. I swore I could feel the air rend the hair from my coat as the bird, which was easily as big as my head, obliterated the cloud with its spear-like beak. We zipped past each other, a rancid smell latching onto my muzzle, and I couldn’t help but gag. Rotting flesh, stained bone and blood-caked feathers were the order of the day.

I had hardly regained control when an unholy screech filled the air. I looked up to find the bird-zombie-thing already coming back my way. The fire of adrenaline washed over my body and I was off.

I dove hard, pulling up just before the canopy. I flapped with all my might, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see the zombie-bird was still gaining. I considered turning to fight, but instantly rejected it. Speed like that would have destroyed me in open air combat. I decided I would have to lose it in the forest, to turn the battle into a contest of dexterity. A dangerous prospect, but I wasn’t in a position to be picky.

I made for the tallest trees, weaving around them as I searched desperately for a suitable hole. But just as I spotted a large enough break, something crashed into my right hind leg with the force of a runaway cart. I barely had a chance to scream before I was spiraling down, the unforgiving branches raking across my body.

My world was a whirlwind of leaves, pain and darkness. The last thing I remembered was the faint taste of copper.

Pop! Pop! Crack!

The sounds echoed through the blackness around me, wavering in and out of existence. The unmistakable scent of smoke touched my nostrils and my brain jolted. My body, not so much. The best I could manage was feebly pawing my forehooves through the air. They were raw and tight, as though my muscles had become a wad of tangled yarn. In fact, the rest of my body felt the same way, especially my back right leg.

Where am I? What happened?

Then it all came spilling back. The crash, the chase, it.

I shuddered. At least it was gone and I was still alive. Or I thought I was, anyway. If I was, I needed to get out of the forest before that changed. I only hoped the smoke was from somepony’s campsite and not the start of a forest fire. Wishful thinking, I know, but when a mare’s a little beat up, she hopes for a break or two.

With a groan, I twisted myself just enough to get my hooves on the ground. What I found wasn’t the grittiness of dirt, but soft and stringy. Grass? Undergrowth?

My eyelids were each as heavy as boulders and I grunted as I struggled to heave them open.

The world was a blur, a giant smear of brown several feet in front of me. After a complex ritual of squinting and blinking, I realized I was staring at a wall. A wall made of rough hewn logs that were nonetheless stacked in perfect alignment. Wherever I was, it wasn’t Pasture.

Pop!

My eyes darted to the right and I scrambled to a sitting position. Pain spread through my muscles like a thunderhead discharge and I just about toppled over backward.

As I regained my balance, I caught a fireplace out of the corner of my eye. Its maw was filled with vibrant tongues dancing over a fresh log. Fear melted away under the welcome warmth. As it turns out, a mare does catch a break every now and then.

With the thought of being cooked alive no longer in the forefront of my mind, my eyes fell upon the figure tending the fire. She was an older unicorn, her coat a soothing ivory, though a simple robe covered all but her head. Raven locks fell over one eye while the other fixed me with a disconcerting stare. I shrunk back a little, my butt brushing up against wood.

“Oh, stop being such a filly. Somepony would think you’d never seen another mare before. Now stop squirming before you make things worse. You need rest if you want your leg to heal. And before you ask, your wings are fine, you silly pegasus.” She turned her attention to the fireplace.

I took a moment to spread my wings, eliciting a snort from the other mare, but she otherwise continued to ignore me. They were tender, but best I could tell, nothing was actually broken.

While I flexed my feathers, I surveyed the room. By the symmetrical log design, I guessed I must be in a one-room cabin. That meant if things went sour, the door opposite the fire would be the only way out. Not that I was likely to beat the white mare there, anyway.

Most of the furniture was concentrated against the far wall. Several bookcases stood side-to-side, lining the wall with a small library’s worth of books. A cabinet, clutching its faded doors against itself, sat to the left of the shelves.

Next to the cabinet was a gnarled table that was positively ancient. In fact, I was almost certain my father had once sold one that was in better condition to an antiquities shop. To the credit of this table, it had retained all four of its chairs. A shame they all looked liked they’d been dropped off the back of a cart. The centre of the table was topped by a vase, a long-dead plant of some kind crammed inside. Faded placemats, glazed in a thick layer of dust, ringed the centrepiece.

I looked back at the mare and after a few moments, worked up the courage for my question, “Where am I?”

“Why, in my cabin of course.” The mare didn’t turn her head.

I raised an eyebrow, “And where in Equestria is that? And for that matter, how did I get here?”

Her horn lit up and the cabinet sprung open. A dull grey light guided my scarf and an unsheathed wingblade over to me. I frowned, the heat of embarrassment touching my cheeks. In all the soreness, I hadn’t even noticed they were missing. The scarf settled on the floor in front of me, but the blade remained in the air.

“This,” the mare said.

“What?” I furrowed my brow.

“It’s a weapon favoured by the pegasus and griffon bandits. Its scent led my sentry right to you. I’m... sorry.”

I winced as the creature screeched through my mind again. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by another growing, roiling horror.

“Wait, if that was yours, then you’re...”

“Yes, the villagers call me the Necromancer.” Her voice was completely level. No theatrics, no intimidation, no threats. Just apathy.

My hairs stood on end. I wrestled with myself, deflecting instinct as it tried to fling me at the door, then the Necromancer. No, there was a reason she hadn’t killed me yet and I still had a chance to leverage it.

As I pushed the panic away, a thought hit me. She looks nothing like the legend.

The Necromancer rose and took a few steps toward me. She wore a frown just as deep as my own. “What’s wrong? Not what you expected?”

“Well...”

The Necromancer rolled her eyes. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot to put on my skull mask today. Shall I go get it?”

My back hit the wall. “I... what do you want with me?”

“Nothing, other than for you to heal and get out of here.”

“What?” The creases returned to my brow. There had to be something else going on. Some long term game-plan of hers.

“You heard me. I have a war to wage and I don’t need innocents getting caught up in it.”

I frowned. “What did the villagers ever do to you?”

“Plenty enough. It’s a wonder I still care for the clods.” She glared past me.

I blinked.

“No, as much as they think I’m their enemy, I’m not.” A fire burned in the Necromancer’s eyes, but it wasn’t the brash kind I’d seen in Blaze. There was a certain weariness, the sort of final strength that comes out near the end of a protracted melee.

Her plan began to form before my eyes. The Necromancer wanted to indoctrinate me, make me believe she was protecting Pasture from bandits. She’d let me go so I could vouch for her, to calm the revolt. But a little voice was nagging, prodding at the back of my mind. It didn’t make sense.

I’m no slouch in combat, but that thing had trounced me like a flailing foal in a schoolyard scrap. If all of the Necromancer’s zombies wielded such power, Pasture’s piddly militia wouldn’t even stand a chance. And even if the town tried to send out an assassin, they can’t find her, never mind getting past the sleepless super-soldiers. Why would anypony who is practically invincible bother with such manipulations? Was it then a game of mental domination?

The voice poked me again, nudging a thought to the forefront. The tracks ended and my train of thought flew off into the void. There was no way she was actually sincere. I mean, I was thinking about a necromancer, defiler of the dead and mistress of unholy powers. Hell, she even went by the Necromancer. My mind just couldn’t process it. There had to be something else I was missing, a cornerstone to her grand scheme. Perhaps a calculated move to stay hidden from the watchful eyes of the princesses.

“I can see you have a lot to think about. If you do get bored, you may take any book from that shelf.” The Necromancer pointed to the bookcase nearest the cabinet.

She strode out before I could say another word.

5 - The Nameless Book

I’ve never been one to laze around all day, especially not back then. After what must have been at least an hour of failing to lull myself to sleep, I turned my gaze to the bookshelf the Necromancer had indicated. Maybe I could find something normal to read.

I stole a glance at my right hind leg. I’d moved on three legs before, but that was usually just a couple steps while I used the free leg to open or close something. With very deliberate motions, and a bit of help from my wings, I pushed myself to my hooves.

A few baby steps grew into full steps. As it turns out, if a pony isn’t in a hurry, three legs is plenty enough for walking. I got to the shelf in good time, my eyes momentarily flitting to the cabinet.

The handles were gone, or rather, thick metal plates took their place. Runes were etched into the iron, spoiling any chance for regular handles to be attached. I’d only seen such unicorn-only locks on very rare occasions, their rather prohibitive price keeping most ponies from owning one. It was in that weird place that felt appropriate, yet odd, for a back woods necromancer.

With nothing left to do but gawk, I turned that effort upon the bookcase. It was loaded with advanced magical texts, from spell compendiums to complex magical theory. As much as magic interested me, I couldn’t ever hope to go beyond the basics. Inability to actually cast the spells aside, the tomes treat the horn like another, completely intuitive limb. When I was younger, I had tried to simply push past the alienness of it all. It was something akin to learning a foreign language with another foreign language that I barely understood in the first place. Simply put, I got nowhere fast.

I sighed and turned back to my cot. That was when something caught my eye. A book with no title was wedged between the first and second volumes of Magical Calculus.

Several tugs later and I let out a sneeze, blasting the dust from the brown book between my teeth. The only writing on the cover was a faded two, something I was certain wasn’t the title. Curiosity took hold and I was on the first page without a second thought.

I was greeted by a wall of hoofwriting. The lines crept down the page with the messy, but earnest enthusiasm of a foal. Nothing was totally illegible, although I found myself guessing at words whenever the author became excited.

Dear Journal,

Today I made a new friend! Prideful and his friends were saying mean things again. They said ponies without cutie marks are big losers who should just go away. I wanted to run and hide. Then Moss (that’s my new friend) came in and scared them off. He’s really big and strong. He can pull Mrs. Wheat’s wagon all by himself! I can’t wait to see him again tomorrow.

-Ivory

I blinked, the hair on the back of my neck going up. The entry was dated a bit over thirty years ago and given the name, it was obvious whose journal this was. It was convenient, enough to leave me too suspicious to take it at face value. A victim? Friend? Enemy?

With a side-to-side glance, I hobbled back to my hay mattress and hunkered down for a bit of speed reading.

Dear Journal,

I had lunch with Moss today. It feels weird having somepony to talk to. But I'm glad he wanted to be my friend. He told me he likes go into the forest and look at plants. I don't like the forest. It's spooky and they say an evil sorcerer lives there doing his dark magic. Moss says it's a lie and that the forest is really nice. He said he'll take me there sometime. He also likes math. I thought I was the only pony who did! It was really neat talking about it. Too bad he gets all confused when I started talking about magic. It’s like the best part of math!

-Ivory

I had to admit something about this struck a chord with me. Having been 'the new filly' more than once, I know it can be hard to break the ice and make friends. To put a cherry on top, the sorcerer rumour sounded an awful lot like the Necromancer. Sure, there was a possible gender conflict, but in a dire situation, it’s easy for details like that to get lost.

Dear Journal,

Prideful was picking on me again, but Moss was there, so it didn’t last long. But he had to kick Prideful to make him stop. He was bleeding a lot and then the teacher put them in the corner. I don't like ponies hurting each other. I wish we could all just get along. But Moss said Prideful won't learn from anything but a hoof. I don't know. Prideful just seemed to get mad. I hope Moss didn't get in much trouble.

-Ivory

Dear Journal,

We snuck out to the forest after school. Moss was right. It's a really pretty place. He told me about all the plants. Like the Birch and the Pine. It was a lot to remember. But it was fun. I think we even saw a rabbit. We promised to do it again sometime soon. I can’t wait.

-Ivory

A knot formed in my stomach. How many times until, one way or another, they end up here?

Dear Journal,

Today Moss was not at school. I hope he’s not sick. Lunch was very lonely without him. Then I had to do math by myself too. But that’s okay, we can catch up later.

Got to go now. Mom says dinner is ready.

-Ivory

Dear Journal,

Moss said his kitty died. That means Cotton doesn’t get to wake up anymore. Poor kitty. Poor Moss. He was so sad. I wish I could fix it. Maybe there is a magical alarm clock that can wake dead kitties up. I should look in the library.

I’m going to do that now.

-Ivory

Dread. That’s the only way to describe how I felt. I had little doubt as to Ivory’s identity now. Where this was going was quite clear to me, yet I couldn’t look away.

Dear Journal,

The library did not have books about dead kitty alarm clocks. Just magical alarm clock alarm clocks. Some of them were very pretty and shiny. There was also a book about talking to the dead. It had scary pictures. But Cotton isn’t scary. Maybe I can put them together and make an alarm clock that talks to the dead. That’s kind of the same thing, right?

-Ivory

Dear Journal,

The spells don’t work together. There are parts of them that cannot be. Putting them together makes them brzap and fall apart. I told Moss I am working hard to get his kitty back. He said he is happy I am trying but it is OK. Sad friends are not OK. I promised I would fix it and that’s what I’m going to do.

-Ivory

I have found the urge to shout at the characters to make, or not make, certain decisions to be the mark of a good novel. But when that grip is turned upon a real pony it's... well, let’s just say ‘as bone-chilling as a Windigo’ is an understatement.

I had to double check to ensure I hadn’t skipped a page because there was nearly a year’s interlude between entries. A rather long time for a young, impressionable filly.

Dear Journal,

Sorry I’m not writing as often. My magic notes are kind of hogging my thoughts.

I don’t know what went wrong. I tried my new spell on a rat. It even got up for a second! Then it popped like a balloon. It was really gross. It still kind of scares me to think about it. But I have to keep going. Maybe if I adjust the inflow from the Vim spell. Let me get back to you.

-Ivory

Another six months went by between entries.

Dear Journal,

I did it! I got a rat to come back! It doesn’t really do anything other than stand there and it still looks gross and stuff, but I still did it! I think I can fix both problems if I adjust the Regeneration component. I can’t wait to tell Moss!

-Ivory

Dear Journal,

It didn’t work. The Regeneration overpowered the rest of the spell. All I got was a dead rat that looked like it wasn’t. My magic isn’t strong enough to compensate. Not all at once. Maybe that’s the key! If I can get a focus, maybe I can bend a few rules!

-Ivory

Dear Journal,

I convinced dad to take me to Iron Shoe. It took some shopping around, but I found something that could work. I wish we could have gone someplace bigger, but mom and dad are always so nervous about big cities. I can’t say I can blame them, either. I guess we’ll see if this is good enough.

-Ivory

Dear Journal,

I feel like I ran a marathon. That was a lot more magic than I anticipated. But it worked! This rat looks healthy, acts healthy and is very much not dead. Soon, I’ll fulfill my promise. I can’t wait to see the look on Moss’s face!

-Ivory

The door slammed shut and I jumped halfway out of my coat. The Necromancer stood in the middle of the room, staring at me. Our eyes met, locking for a few long moments, then hers fell down to the journal.

“Where did you get that?!” she snapped. The book yanked itself out from under my forehooves and zipped over to her.

I looked her in the eye again. “On the shelf you showed me.”

“Lies! It doesn’t belong there!” The Necromancer stomped, her cloak blasting out around her.

I shook my head, doing my best to keep my voice level. “Regardless of whether it belongs there or not, I found it shoved between your Magic Calculus books.

She scowled at me, suspicion and anger radiating off her like heat from a volcano. For just a split second, I thought I caught a hint of pain, of indecision, in her eyes. Then she spun on her heel and started fiddling with her cabinet.

I gritted my teeth, pushing the lingering effects of the journal from my mind. I had to think rationally. The journal was too conveniently placed, her return too well-timed. Granted, that was rather circumstantial evidence, but the best way to be sure was to interrogate the Necromancer, herself. And in my current condition, I felt that would be something akin to poking an Ursa with a stick.

6 - Judging Foals

One hour... two. The awkwardness stretched out like a net, trapping us in its bonds. The Necromancer sat in front of the fireplace, pretending to read 501 Utility Spells as she watched me pretend to sleep.

At that rate, I was in for a long stay.

The book drifted shut and the Necromancer stood, but she didn’t move. She stared into the fire, something unseen burning away. Several minutes passed and she didn’t so much as twitch. I was starting to wonder if she had passed out when she turned with decisive abruptness.

She strode over and gave me a look that bored into my soul. “How much did you see?”

I met her gaze. Assuming that I was supposed to find the book, there was little point in lying. “Until the spell worked on the rat.”

“What did you think?”

“That this ‘Ivory’ is heading down a dark path. One that will steal her innocence with power.”

I waited for the retort, the insistence that she was the good pony, that she had only wandered into the clutches of darkness for the greater good. But it didn’t come; the Necromancer said nothing. Neither did I.

One could say silently staring at each other was becoming a habit.

The Necromancer spun and headed for the door.

At some point, the soreness became numbness, and the numbness, nothingness. A rather fragile nothingness as every little sound, from the crackle of the fire to the groaning of the wood, brought me back to awareness.

I normally don’t have issues sleeping in unfamiliar places, but I suppose up until then I’d never been stuck in a necromancer’s house, surrounded by zombies. I wore no shackles, but my subconscious could see the situation quite clearly

The door creaked and I cracked an eye. The Necromancer trotted back in and stopped in front of the cabinet. She gave the lock an intense stare, as though seeing it for the first time.

After a few minutes, she turned and left again. This repeated several times over the course of the next few hours. Each time she came back, I wondered if maybe I really had legitimately run into something I wasn’t supposed to and that she might be contemplating finishing me off.

I started coming up with ways to get the drop on her, most of which involved hiding behind or above the door. I was wondering just how good a weapon one of those ancient chairs would make when the cabinet doors flew open. The journal sprung out, making a short arc before settling in front of me with a dull thud.

I raised an eyebrow. “What—”

“You should know the truth before you judge.” She looked at me and my mind stumbled over itself. There was something barely present, lurking just under the hardened bluntness. Vulnerability, hope… fear.

Part of me had her pegged as a patient and talented actress. The rest wasn’t so sure. A pony isolated from society would have more than a few issues acquiring the necessary practice. Unless, of course, acting was her special talent. And even then, who would seriously choose to ignore her own cutie mark, run off into a wood and become a feared necromancer?

“Well? Are you going to just sit there or what?” The Necromancer’s voice was completely firm again.

I watched her closely and very deliberately moved a forehoof to the cover of the book. It took several minutes before I found where I’d left off.

Dear Journal,

It worked! Cotton is alive and well! I even got my cutie mark while I was doing it (it’s something coming out of a grave because I’m good at making things alive again)! I was worried because Moss just stared at me and Cotton for a long time. But then he jumped up and hugged me and didn’t let go almost forever. He called me the best friend ever and pointed out my new cutie mark! It was a good feeling.

-Ivory

I blinked and reread the entry two more times. Here was a pony who was not only unfazed by necromancy, but seemed to encourage it. It just felt wrong, like the dark magic itself had left a bubbling stain on the paper. Regardless of just how unenviable a position it would have been to object to a pony's cutie mark, as a friend, I felt he should have intervened.

Dear Journal,

Today Prideful wasn't being loud and annoying. He even looked sad. When I asked Moss, he said Prideful's grandma died. I thought I'd be happy to see something bad finally happen to that meanie, but this just feels empty. Even after all he's done, I'm sad for him. Is that weird?

-Ivory

I glanced up and the Necromancer met my gaze. There was that weariness again, like it was a forgone conclusion that I would reach another forgone conclusion. When I stopped to think about it, I realized that was because it was probably true. My eyes dropped and I hastily returned to the journal.

Dear Journal,

At lunch, one of Prideful's friends came over and started asking about Cotton. I guess they
finally heard. I don't know if the spell will work on ponies. I mean, I did the calculations and
in theory, I can just scale up all the magic. But I can't help but feel I'm missing something.

I'm going back to recheck those formulae.

-Ivory

Dear Journal,

Prideful came to me today and demanded to know about the spell. The funeral is coming up soon and he wants me to try it before that happens. Moss says I shouldn't help him. But if I have a chance to end other ponies' suffering, shouldn't I take it? Prideful says he'll let me in tomorrow after school.

-Ivory

I shook my head. Everything about the situation screamed “train wreck”. Everything. Yet there was nothing malicious or ulterior about their endeavour. Had I been in the same position a year or so ago, I might have followed the same line of logic. Could I really blame these near-foals for trying to make the best of their situation?

The next page was tear-stained.

Dear Journal,

Moss was right. I don’t know what I missed, but it was bad. The spell brought Prideful's grandma back, but it wasn't right. She was saying weird things and didn't even recognize Prideful. They tried to talk for five minutes, but nothing was getting through. The whole time I could see Prideful's face getting redder and redder. Then he said I did it on purpose! I would never do that! Then he tried to hit me! But his grandma protected me and beat him up. I think she was going to kill him, but I cast the counter-spell before she could.

We took Prideful to the clinic and everypony was looking at me weird and whispering. I said I was sorry, but they just kept staring. I ran home and hid in my room. What do I do?

-Ivory

Dear Journal,

Mom said I'm not going to school today. I don't know why. She keeps giving me this look. It’s almost like she’s scared. But that can't be right, can it? I tried to study some magic, but I can't focus. I need to talk to Moss. He always knows what to do. Maybe I can see him at school tomorrow.

-Ivory

Dear Journal,

I'm not going to school anymore and nopony will say why. I asked mom if I could go see Moss. She said I can't see him anymore. Is it the Prideful thing? I just wanted to help. I started talking to Feather. I know she’s just a foal, but I need somepony who will listen, even if she can’t understand me.

-Ivory

I reeled, my heart giving under the crushing force of an invisible punch.

Dear Journal,

I snuck out today. I heard mom and dad say Moss was in the clinic and I had to see him. He wasn't awake. They said he fell off a cliff on the way to the forest. But he knows the path too well for that and I could have sworn there were hoof marks on his stomach. I think I know who did it, but nopony is willing to listen. Maybe when he's awake they’ll listen to him.

-Ivory

Dear Journal,

Everypony is gone. I went to Moss's room and it was empty. I went to his house and it was empty too. I felt like I wanted to collapse. But then Prideful and his goons started chasing me. They were throwing stones and calling me the evil sorcerer! I'm not evil! I just wanted to help!

I ran all the way home, but everypony was gone there too! Mom, dad, Feather, the servants, they all just vanished! I don't know what to do. I guess at least Prideful left. They couldn’t get past the gate. But I know they'll be back with more and then they’ll try to do those horrible things they said they were going to do to me. I need to get out of here. I know! I'll go to the forest. Maybe Moss will be there. Please let Moss be there.

-Ivory

That was the last page of the journal. I stared at the back cover. No extra writing materialized. I opened my mouth, but something was caught in my throat.

“Well? Have you condemned me yet?” There was a certain edge to the Necromancer’s voice, like a fight was inevitable.

My eyes remained on the journal and the barest whispered escaped my lips. “No.”

“What?”

I looked up and was met with a face that couldn’t be more baffled, even if she tried. I was an alien creature, disguised as a pony, because a real pony would have chosen the right answer. I cleared my throat. “My findings are inconclusive. Would you… tell me more?”

As she hesitated, I saw something on her face, there for only the briefest of moments. A foal-like hope, buried beneath years of solitude and pain. “You… you would listen to this old mare’s tale?”

I took a deep breath and nodded. I had to know.

“Better get comfortable.”

7 - A Filly's Path

I rolled onto my left side, flexing my wounded leg as I watched Ivory. She settled onto one of the antique chairs, squirming until it finally stopped wobbling. She stared over my head and I felt the pit in my stomach grow, almost certain it would pull my belly to the ground. Dread perched on my shoulder, a vulture waiting for everything to fall apart.

The realization dawned on me that I was probably about as nervous as Ivory and it took me several moments to figure out why. I wanted this filly to succeed, to be a good pony and for her kindness to have somehow paid off. I wanted there to be justice because she was, in a way, me.

There’s too many… you… you have to run! The unicorn guard was standing before me again, battered, bruised and bleeding. One of the many I left behind to die. I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t save anyone.

I shook my head, scolding myself for spacing out so easily. The past was done and reliving it wasn’t helping me any. If Ivory noticed my mental interlude, she didn’t show it. She was still staring past me, looking to the wall for a starting point.

Seconds stretched into eons and I wondered if she was having second thoughts.

She began speaking without so much as a glance my way. “Wherever Moss went, it wasn’t here. I never saw him again. The first nights were the hardest. He’d taught me what was safe to eat and where to find shelter, but that wasn’t enough. I was just a pampered filly all alone in the wild, depending on a bunch of barely-remembered facts for survival.”

Despite our differences, I knew how she felt. From the moment I could scamper after my parents, I’d spent my foalhood on the road, soaking up their wisdom. When I set out on my own, I had everything I needed for a quick, easy trip. But they left a gap, a crushing vacuum of responsibility. Routes, finances, weight allowance, all of it falling squarely on my back. For all my experience, my legs were practically giving out before I had even left Ponyville proper.

“I didn’t want to use the zombies at first, not so soon. But the woods are full of hungry creatures and a lone filly is an easy target. I needed something to protect me. What was a blessing-turned-curse became a blessing again. After the first fight, I knew they would stay by my side and keep me safe. They didn’t complain, flee or judge. Aside from Moss, they were the best friends I’d ever had.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I’d dealt with hundreds of people before and while some could accurately be described as the kind a mare doesn’t want to know, I could hardly imagine substituting everypony with zombies. That a filly would have to turn to them for friendship left a hole in my heart.

“I decided if the village didn’t want me, I didn’t want them either. I spent the next while making my new friends stronger, faster, more independant. Then I realized that I didn’t have to hide in the shadows. We could take on the creatures of the forest with little trouble. Why should I let us be bullied?”

There was a lump in my throat and no matter how hard I swallowed, it wouldn’t go away.

“The only pony who even remotely stood a chance was a soldier, the royal guard’s deputy. He might have rallied the villagers, organized them against me. And because zombies aren’t the most adaptable creatures, the militia could have won. I knew he patrolled the roads and the borders between the forest and hills. I just had to catch him alone.”

I pushed confusion from my mind. Why was she telling me this? Didn’t she want me to think that she fought bandits, that she was a champion of justice? Then a thought dawned on me. This was a confession, a plea for absolution. She had murdered the only guard the town had. Who, then, would fill the gap in guardianship?

Ivory lowered her head, but continued to look past me. “One day, as he neared the forest border, he got too close to the brush. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t care. I saw my opportunity. So did something else. Before I could send out my zombies, two timberwolves leapt from the undergrowth. They were smart, the first faking a lunge while the other attacked from behind. It maimed his hind leg and the fight was almost over before it began. I didn’t even have to do anything, just... watch.”

The air around me felt a little colder. I wanted to be angry and indignant, but leaving somepony to die was leaving somepony to die. The difference was I hadn’t watched.

“He fought back with the strength of a manticore, keeping the wolves at hoof’s length. But I think they knew it couldn’t last. They circled him, nipping at his heels and wearing him down. I moved my zombies into position just in case. As he fell to his knees, he cried out for his wife. I couldn’t take it anymore. To stand by and watch him die, it… it would make me no better than the monsters. I had tried so hard to tell myself that’s what I wanted, but it wasn’t. This pony hadn’t even wronged me, I wanted him to die by proxy. I realized that if I let this happen, if I gave myself over to revenge, then I’d become exactly what everypony thought I was. So I did the only thing I could: save him.”

My heart leapt and silently, I cheered her on. But the wariest part of me was still watching Ivory quite carefully.

“I brought him here. Nursed him back to health and sent him on his way.”

I blinked and as I opened my mouth, every thought spilled out. “Hey, hang on a second. Why did you gloss over that? Didn’t you talk? Couldn’t he vouch for you? And for that matter, where is he now? I didn’t see any real guards among the militia.”

Ivory closed her eyes. “I don’t know. I never heard from him again. I just… don’t like to think about it.”

Pain creased her face, but there was already plenty to be sad about. I had to know why she was clamming up and guesses weren’t going to cut it. “What you’re asking me to believe is a rather tall order. You said you wanted me to know the truth, so why won’t you tell me?”

“He… he promised,” Ivory whispered.

“What?”

Ivory slumped over and for a second, I thought she might end up on the floor. “He promised he’d keep in touch. He said he was my friend.”

The question was almost painful to ask, but I couldn’t stop there, not yet. “I’m sorry if this sounds harsh, but can you tell me his name? I’d like to verify the story if I can.”

Her gaze fell to the floor for several long moments. She didn’t even look up when she replied, “It wouldn’t matter anyway. If he wouldn’t say anything before, a strange mare knocking on his door won’t change his mind.”

I simply nodded. My gut was telling me to lay off, especially since Ivory was right. Still, I wanted to think I was good enough to get something out of him.

But there would be plenty of time in the coming days. Perhaps Ivory would open up again.

The rest of the day was spent in silence, with little more than a few pleasantries exchanged. Of course, Ivory being in and out of the cabin a lot didn’t help. I supposed she did say she was fighting a war. Although, if she was dealing with a situation each time, the bandits were alarmingly active.

With little else to do, the thoughts lingered. I began to wonder just what kind of bandits would engage in prolonged combat with a necromancer. They could have been desperately clinging to the only region they knew could support them, but attrition would quickly throw that out of whack. Or perhaps there was a bigger prize at stake. With so much untouched land, there was bound to be a node or two around.

I briefly entertained the thought that the real war was being fought over said resources. Trade would have been a tough prospect, but perhaps Ivory had found practical uses for the material.

With a sigh, I reminded myself that the situation was none of my business. Either way, the outcome didn’t matter. When I was healed, I would wish Ivory good luck and be on my way. And for that, I needed sleep.

Laying my head against the hay, I did my best to push any further thoughts from my head. It was several more hours before I fell asleep.

8 - Bonds

Although my sleep was uneasy, I made up for it in sheer length. By the time I finally mustered the strength to sit up, Ivory had returned with a pair of fresh salads. My stomach grumbled its impatience.

“Are you well enough to move?” She peered at me, the age-worn bowls orbiting around her horn.

I stretched my leg. My muscles protested, but after the first couple extensions, there was significantly less resistance. “Yeah.”

A feather duster slipped out of the cabinet and and worked its way over the long-neglected table. Small puffs of grey drifted into the air as her dust demolition progressed.

“Then why don’t we eat at the table? Sorry about the dust. I haven’t had guests in a while.” Her words came out with an unusual smoothness, something more drilled than conscious. I felt a tinge of sadness. For just a moment, I could see Ivory hosting a high class dinner party, attending to her guests just like any other socialite.

With the help of my wings, I was on my hooves again, hobbling over to the table. The chair slid out on its own and I gave Ivory my best smile. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” she mumbled, looking away before seating herself across from me.

I idly counted the placemats and froze. Four. Ivory, her parents and Feather...

Ivory caught on almost immediately. “I always hoped they’d come back. Deep down, I knew that wasn’t going to happen, but it took a few years to sink in. By then it was a part of the cabin. I didn’t have the heart to take it down.”

Dampness crept into the corners of my eyes and I did my best to shoo it away. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” She shrugged and started on her salad.

Conversation faded away and I glanced around, desperately looking for something else to say. With a short cough, I squeezed the words out. “So you built this cabin?”

“Yes, it was one of the first things I did after I realized I would be here for a while. I couldn’t go back to the estate. At first, I thought Prideful would be waiting.” She turned her gaze to the door.

“Was he?”

“No, it was worse.”

My imagination ran wild. There was an angry mob, torches held high as they smashed down the door. Then a demolished estate, the strength of its proud stone unable to stand against the might of an earth pony wrecking crew. Or perhaps the town had even taken it over, fortifying and turning it upon its former mistress.

Ivory continued, breaking my daydream. “The memories were everywhere, wandering, aimless ghosts. There was no room where it didn’t all bear down on me, crushing me… suffocating me. I couldn’t stay. So I got my zombies and built a new home.”

Even though she had never left the area, I was astonished to see just how much Ivory had left behind. Home is safety, comfort and an awful thing to lose. As much as I like to travel, I’ve always been able to call Ponyville home. And whenever I go back, it’s usually still more or less in the state I expect. I supposed that, in the very least, having a tireless workforce to handle the brute-force parts of the job would have eased the transition. Small comfort, I know.

I poked at my bowl. “And that was before you met the guard?”

Her nod was slow, almost absent. It wasn’t the right time to return to the topic.

“And after that?” I finally started on my meal.

“I’d heard of bandits terrorizing the roads. It was especially bad with the guard disappearing. I tuned my zombies, working to make them more effective against those who lie in wait. After a while, all the roads that run near the forest were under my protection. There are still spots they can get to, but I can’t have my zombies wandering around outside the forest. It would do more harm than good.”

It was my turn to nod. A roving zombie would scare off the average pony just as easily as the bandits. Or even worse, draw an armed response.

Ivory lowered her head. “I’ve seen my fair share of different gangs. They all make the same mistakes and eventually leave within a few months. Except this one.”

“And what’s different?”

“They’re more coordinated, they stick to the safe spots when they can. They also built their hideout far from the forest.”

“I guess somepony learned from all those failures.”

Ivory nodded. “But they still get greedy from time-to-time. I’ll wear them down because every loss can be turned against them.”

I wondered if that included any of the victims, but I pushed the thought from my mind. No, that doesn’t sound like Ivory.

My train of thought screeched to a halt. Cut that out, you’ve only known her for two days.

Then it hit me. I hardly knew much about her, but she knew even less about me. If I wanted her to open up, I was going to have to give a little.

“Have you heard of the Crystal Rainbow?”

“No. What is it?”

“It is said to be a masterwork ornament from a long lost empire. They say it is crafted from several gems, one for each of the seven colours and fused together without the aid of any other material. Under full light it is like a beacon, beams dancing around it and inspiring hope. It was a complete myth until just a few months ago, when it was discovered north of Crystalside.”

The hardness of Ivory’s eyes momentarily gave way to a distinct brightness, a touch of the filly lost among the suffering. “That sounds… beautiful.”

I nodded. “It should be.”

“You mean you haven’t seen it?”

“No, not yet. I was on my way to Crystalside, but a wild storm had other plans.”

“So you went to Pasture and ended up here.” Ivory scuffed her hoof on the table.

“Pretty much. I was actually headed out, though.”

Ivory looked away and a long silence crept into the room. If there was ever a time to extend my hoof, that was it. A pit formed in my stomach, but I steeled myself, shoving my nerves to the back of my mind.

“Would you like to see it sometime?”

“I… maybe, but I don’t really travel.” Uncertainty crept across her eyes. I knew the fear well. When things had gone bad and I wondered if fumbling off into the unknown might just make it all worse.

I gave her my best reassuring smile. “I could take you.”

“No… I can’t… I shouldn’t. I belong here. They… they need me.”

I bit my lip, not wanting to push too directly, but unable to think of a different direction to go. Luckily, Ivory gave me an opening.

“So is this Crystal Rainbow part of your special talent?” She turned her eyes toward me again.

“In a roundabout way, yes. It’s a bit complicated.” I tapped a hoof to my cutie mark. “My mark is for design and planning. As such, I’m always looking for new inspiration and I’ve found experience to be a better source than any second-hoof research methods. I travel, in part, to seek out these new experiences. But at the same time, my parents were, and still are, merchants. I was with them a lot when I was younger and the road just feels… right.”

“Feels right…” Ivory chuckled nervously. “I don’t suppose you have an angry mob chasing you too?”

Was that… a joke? I stared for a moment before reining myself in. My mind scrambled to find a way to dodge the question. Ivory had just opened up and I was about to drop a real mood-killer.

She stared at a crack on the table. “It’s true, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I… found some information that incriminated some gangsters and turned it over to the guard. But they must have had an insider. They knew too much. Enough that everything started falling to pieces and... in the end, we gave them a black eye and bloodied their nose. But no victory is without cost. I often wonder if it was worth it.”

Ivory closed her eyes. “The world is a cruel place.”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” She looked up, staring straight at me.

“Sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes bad people win. Sometimes something beautiful is lost beneath the sands of time, like a forgotten rainbow. But sooner or later, someone will dig it up and remember that the world does have nice things.”

I thought I caught the barest of smiles creeping over her lips.

9 - Farewell?

The next few days saw Ivory and I return to small talk, though this time it felt less obligatory and more genuine. Every so often, I’d try to direct our talks back to the guard, but Ivory remained tight-lipped about his identity.

Instead, I got side-tracked into a five-hour-long discussion of Daring Do, a direct result of learning Daring had come after Ivory’s generation had grown up. She, in turn had gone on about the Sand Knoll saga. I wasn’t a big fan of the space ponies and intergalactic war thing, but vowed to give it a try anyway. I had to admit, it was nice to set aside the weighty topics and just be two mares chatting for a while.

Bit-by-bit, my leg continued to heal and bit-by-bit, my concern for Ivory grew. Our talks were quite enjoyable and, masked as it was, I was starting to see that same enthusiasm from her journal. At that point, it was impossible to deny that we were friends.

Leaving was suddenly a cruel prospect. I was her only friend, after all. But I couldn’t just stay in those woods forever. It wouldn’t be fair to the rest of my friends and family. And it wasn’t like we were parting ways forever. If she had already survived that long without me, surely she could get by until I returned.

“How is it?” Ivory’s inquiry broke my daydream.

I leaned back, putting increasing weight onto my hind leg until I was angled back so strangely that I thought I might fall on my rump. “It’s about good as new.”

The corners of Ivory’s mouth trembled, uncertain of which way to turn. “Great. Then you should probably get packing.”

With a nod, I set to work on my flight satchels, taking a quick stock of my rations to ensure they were still good. I slung the bags over my back and donned my scarf. I put on my best reassuring smile as I turned to Ivory.

We stood there, staring at each other like two fillies at the end of a grand slumber party, never wanting it to end, but knowing not even the strongest of friendships can stop the flow of time.

I was the first to break the silence. “This isn’t good-bye forever. I’ll be back.”

“You will?” The tiniest hint of hope quivered in her voice.

“Of course.”

“When?” Her words sprung forth exactly as mine finished.

I pondered a moment. If I could catch her when she didn’t have any pressing business, perhaps she would reconsider her aversion of travel. “When do you think your war will be over?”

“I don’t know. It depends on how stubborn they are.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to check back every few months until it is.”

“You… really mean it? Promise?” Uncertainty flooded her voice as her hoof traced circles on the ground.

“Yeah. I promise. Or my name isn’t Dusky Down.” I stepped forward and pressed my muzzle against her mane. My foreleg was halfway up for a hug when she flinched and pulled away. Heat touched my cheeks. “Sorry, I… that was wrong of me to assume.”

Ivory shook her head, her eyes filled with confusion rather than anger. “No, I… I’d just forgotten what that was like.”

The forest was strangely alive, the chittering of animals about as loud as in any other place. In my mind I knew they had had years to adapt to the presence of zombies, but in my gut, the idea that they could get over it bordered on unsettling. Of course, I had to admit that my only point of reference, accident or not, had viciously attacked me. But for the sake of the mare behind them, I suppressed my nerves.

I wanted to break the tension, to chat with Ivory and savour the remainder of our time together. But the farther we walked, the more my traveler’s instinct kicked in and the more I was inclined toward silence. In the wilderness, the loud pony has a bright red target painted on her back.

Ivory had acquired a strange focus of her own. The look in her eyes was neither the unease of a wary pony, nor the measured intent of a wizard. It was more akin to the alpha wolf watching over her pack.

She gave me an apologetic look before veering off toward the brush. I raised an eyebrow, which meant little to her hindquarters. With a shrug, I followed, making sure to keep to the same trails.

We skulked along until we were nearly at the forest’s edge. It was there that I spotted a familiar orange mare about a dozen yards out. She strolled as easily over the uneven ground as the average pony would a well-maintained road.

A pair of earth pony stallions followed just behind, their equipment displaying a remarkable lack of misshapenness. Each of their spears were reasonably straight and topped by a jagged iron tooth. For armour they wore loose chain barding.

“You sure this is the place?” the one on her right asked gruffly.

I crept up to the nearest bush and peered through the gaps in the leaves. Ivory slipped up beside me, a frown forming on her face.

“Yeah, I’d never forget that broken boulder! I saw him here, I swear!” Blaze called over her shoulder.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell the forest too, y’know.”

“Hey, if he wants to show up in the open so we can get him sooner, all the better.” Her ‘spear’ bobbed in the yellow grip of her horn.

“Be careful what you wish for, little foal,” a stallion’s voice boomed out of the trees, its echo silencing the forest.

I swiveled my ears as I raised my eyes just above the topmost leaves. As best I could tell, he was somewhere off to the right, which was practically in front of Blaze.

A robed figure glided out from the darkness between two trees, his clothing and black mane billowing around his skull mask. He raised his hoof and the bushes near the path groaned and snapped as zombie-ponies in tattered clothes stumbled free of the branches.

I glanced at Ivory, whose frown was so deep, it threatened to creep down her neck.

It struck me how few specifics I knew of the bandits, for Ivory had never spoken of her encounters. A thought dawned on me. What if the bandits brought in their own necromancer? No, that can’t be right.

One necromancer was a rarity as it was. To find a second, and one that would be willing to work for someone else, well, those are definitely odds I wouldn’t bet on. Not to mention something didn’t smell right. That is, they didn’t stink enough. Compared to the zombie-bird, those guys were a breath of fresh air.

“Bandits,” Ivory whispered.

“Figured. So those three are about to get mugged.”

“Just the mare.”

“What?”

“I’ve seen this ruse before. The bandits take turns posing as mercenaries and then lead their employer into an ambush. Except their employer saved them the trouble this time.”

“Mercen—” I glanced at Blaze. Oh, shit. She didn’t.

“Bow to the Necromancer!” the masked stallion called, his voice carrying a knowing, almost arrogant tone. “And perhaps you will be spared!”

“No way!” Blaze stepped forward, spear poised above her head.

“What are you doing?” asked one of the fake-mercenaries. “There’s a lot of zombies here…”

“Hold them off! I’m putting an end to this!” Blaze boasted as she advanced.

“Um…” The fake-mercenary didn’t move, his jaw hanging open. I wagered he was genuinely baffled by her insanity-bordering bravado. I know I was.

“We have to get her out of there before she gets herself killed,” I whispered. “Can… can your zombies cover me?”

Had the situation been any less dire, I might have laughed. Never in a thousand years did I think I’d utter those words.

Ivory nodded. “Go. I’ll distract them.”

I drew my wingblade, pressing it against the top of my wing and whispered the magic word. A familiar tingle danced up and down my feathers as the weapon secured itself.

With one last glance back, I burrowed into the brush, keeping myself low and only moving whenever someone was being particularly noisy. And as luck would have it, my route provided a surprisingly clear view of what was unfolding.

“Are you really so eager to die?” The fake-necromancer hadn’t moved an inch.

“I am eager to end you and bring peace to my village,” Blaze spat and pawed the ground.

No, you idiot! Where are those zombies? I quickened my pace as much as I dared. Being caught out of position was as likely to get us both killed as Blaze’s own recklessness.

There was a long series of crashes, a chaotic orchestra signalling the start of the collision of bodies. A bandit-fake-zombie and the real deal rolled across the dirt to my right, hooves flailing. Blaze’s eyes flitted over to them, her expression melting into total confusion just a moment after.

That was when the fake-necromancer struck, a wicked, double-edged knife riding a red aura out of his robe.

I leapt into action, slamming my body against Blaze’s and sending her staggering away. Draw back and… I threw my wing into position just in time to parry the fake-necromancer’s blade. He scowled at me and the knife pulled back, ready to strike again.

Too bad he never noticed the zombie coming off his flank. As the two of them went spinning off into the brush, I rammed my head against Blaze’s withers. “Come on! Let’s go!”

“What—you!”

“Yes, me.” I rolled my eyes. I broke into a trot, looking for a break in the bandit line, which, thanks to Ivory’s ambush, was quickly falling apart. While the bandits had the benefit of being armed, the zombies just didn’t care about multiple stab wounds.

I threw a glance back at Blaze, who was following rather tentatively. “Now come with me if you want to live.”

“By running at all those zombies?”

I sighed, wondering if she had suddenly developed a sense of preservation or just hated zombies that much. “In case you haven’t noticed, some of them are on our side.”

Blaze stopped, anger lighting up her face. “You mean your side, you—you—necromancer!”

“Ugh, look, I’ll explain later! Living, now, prejudice when we’re safe!”

The fake-necromancer’s knife floated out from behind Blaze and pressed itself against her throat. Her knees bent, a backwards hop in the making. But the fake-necromancer’s words held her in place. “Uh, uh. Not unless you wanna get cut.”

He stepped out of the trees and slid up beside Blaze. “Call them off.”

I blinked, my mounting anger fading under the realization of what Blaze had just set in motion. I glanced side-to-side. No Ivory in sight. With a deep breath, I began my gambit, which would end in catastrophe for one side or the other. It all hinged on how much Ivory was paying attention. “By my name as Necromancer… Stop!”

A couple seconds drifted into eternity as my heart raced. The zombies paused, although they did not move away from their opponents, who all lay motionless on the ground.

Blaze gave me an intense glare consisting of “I knew it!” daggers.

“Now, dispel them and drop your weapon, or this filly dies.” The fake-necromancer inched his knife closer.

As my pulse settled, I felt my confidence soar. It was time to press my advantage. “No.”

“What?” The fake-necromancer’s voice wavered under his mask.

I had to focus, force myself not to look for Ivory. I pulled myself as tall as I could. “If I disarm, you’ll kill us both. But if you kill her, you’ll be dead in an instant. How about you surrender and I’ll think about sparing your life?”

“You think I’m bluffing?!” The fake-necromancer pressed the blade against Blaze’s neck. A whimper, alongside a thin line of blood, escaped her throat.

Shit. Come on…

The fake-necromancer laughed. “Last chance or I’ll—I’ll—”

A dull grey aura had surrounded the knife and a smile crept up my lips as the weapon was pulled away, leaving me my opening.

I bounded forward, wing poised.

A sinister red emanated from the fake-necromancer’s concealed horn. But I was already close enough that I was certain whatever attack he used wouldn’t matter.

And in a flash of light, they were just… gone, my wingblade cleaving through the air where the fake-necromancer’s throat had been. “Wha—?”

“Teleportation. I should have known.” Ivory’s eyes were full of anger as she stepped through the bushes, heedless of the branches pressing against her chest.

My mind reeled. Teleportation was no easy feat, never mind mass teleportation. His cutie mark had to be teleportation. It had to be. Otherwise, Blaze had just picked a fight with something well out of my league and the odds of rescuing her would have been practically non-existent. I shook my head. No, if he had to take a hostage, there’s no way he was a master magus. “Wait, why did he take Blaze with him?”

Ivory’s face fell. “Knowing them, they’ll use her to extort something from Pasture. All the while calling themselves the Necromancer, of course.”

A gigantic pit formed in my stomach and it was all I could do not to end up on my hindquarters. The things that come back to bite somepony in the flank. “Damn. Do you know where they’d keep her?”

“Not any specifics, but their only hideout is up in the hills.”

I glanced at the bandit bodies strewn around the forest. “Then let’s see if we can find somepony who can give us those specifics.”

10 - Regrets

The search for survivors was a grim affair. We had already checked about a dozen of the bodies, but not one of them was alive. Not that I expected a battle like that to go without serious injury or even death. But as I continued to be met with cooling corpses and lifeless eyes, the thoroughness of our decimation hung over my shoulder like a ghost.

When I inquired with Ivory, she explained that the zombies only fight as hard as their opponents. This set two separate trains of thought racing through my mind.

The first was that my encounter with the zombie-bird had been a much closer brush with death than I’d originally imagined. In a twisted sense of irony, any of my gambits working could have been a fatal mistake.

The second was that the bandits had fought so hard that the zombies’ response was to subdue them with lethal force. That their leader commanded that level of zeal, whether through fear, charisma or wealth, it filled me with dread. Those types of people… they get what they want, regardless of what, or who, they have to sacrifice. For me to have angered another one, I began to wonder if I was doomed to repeat my mistakes.

The next bandit was sprawled on his side, a shallow rut left in his wake. He was a scrawny earth pony stallion, barely more than a colt. Tufts of tan hair poked out from the spots where blood had washed away his dirt disguise. My ears, as well as my spirits, perked up as I thought I caught the faintest of breaths.

I circled him a couple times, looking for a weapon to confiscate, but oddly enough, there was none. Not on the ground and not on his hooves. Figuring that he had been disarmed during the battle, I cocked my ear as I lowered it toward his chest.

“Found one!” I called over my shoulder before setting to work assessing the damage. Even though he looked pretty torn up, the wounds were entirely superficial. I admit that my relief was rather mercenary; most of my concern was born of the fact that critically wounded prisoners aren’t much easier to interrogate than the dead. But at the same time, there was a small part of me that was just plain glad. Perhaps it was his youth and through that, I could somehow believe something had been saved.

But I was grasping at mere consolation. The fact remained that I had been unable to get Blaze out of a situation my own words had had a hoof getting her into. I needed to fix that. And as long as I had that goal, with even the slightest possibility of working, I could brush those thoughts aside. I pulled my first aid kit from my flight satchel and began applying the precious dressings to the stallion’s wounds.

“Good thing.” Ivory trotted up beside me. “He’s the last.”

I cut away the bulk of his filthy rag disguise, revealing a pair of reinforced iron shoes; they were bound to a length of rope which, in turn, hung from a thick belt. I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think this one even drew his weapons. Guess that would explain why he survived.”

“Likely. He was probably too surprised.”

I nodded, depositing the shoes into my satchel. “Regardless, he’ll be tied up. We’ll need a safe place to interrogate him. Preferably a place less distinct than the cabin.”

Ivory gave the treeline a long look before she finally spoke. “We can… we can use the estate.”

“Are you sure?” I glanced up at her. “Estates aren’t exactly inconspicuous. Plus, won’t it be watched?”

With the dressings finished, I fished through my satchels for my emergency rope. Between that and the bandit’s belt, I was able to tie up each pair of legs. I wanted to go for a hogtie, but that would have made carrying him even more difficult. I topped it off by adding a blindfold, made of the cleanest of his discarded rags.

“I can’t say for sure, but most ponies don’t dare get close. They’re too superstitious. Besides, nopony will ever find us where we’re going.”

“Let me guess, a secret hideout?”

Ivory nodded. “Even better. A magical safe room.”

A chill touched my spine. The last safe room I had been in had been decidedly unsafe. But that was different. This time, there were no insiders, no wild cards to betray us. I shoved my apprehension aside. “How far?”

“About an hour, but it will also bring us closer to the hills.”

“Great.” I glanced at a couple of the nearest zombies. “Which one is going to carry him?”

“Those ones have to return to their patrols.” Ivory swept a forehoof across the battlefield, where the zombies were rather haphazardly scattered. “But I can always make one.”

Without waiting for a response, she trotted a few feet to the closest body. Her horn lit up, practically washing away her creased brow.

My mind froze, locked in battle with instinct as my head tried to turn away. No. I need to see this.

Light surrounded the corpse and I expected it to shake, spasm and groan as its death throes were undone. But there was nothing, not a sound nor an inch of movement. The glow simply intensified until the world melted away. I tucked my head against my chest, wondering whether blindness or revival would come first. Then the light was gone, the forest’s shadows slipping back into place.

The zombie rose, silently and without so much as a an awkward twitch. Watching its first few steps, I couldn’t even call it clumsy. Oddly enough, the whole serenity of the situation did little to calm me. In fact, I couldn’t shake the feeling the lack of unnaturalness made everything even more unnatural.

“Is something wrong?” Ivory peered at me as she levitated the stallion onto the newly-minted zombie.

“Sorry, I guess I didn’t know what to expect.”

Her face fell a little. “I understand.”

We began our journey in silence, cutting through the forest on trails I could barely discern until we were practically upon them. Despite our apparent speed, we were still taking the long way around, which did little to quell my growing anxiety. But there was no helping it, as concealing our movement was a high priority.

The cheery sounds of the forest’s routine had already returned, as though the carnage that had just gone down was hardly worth its time. And if the place really was anything like Everfree, a battle to the death was more mundane than I’d like to admit.

Even knowing we had plenty of allies nearby, I found myself watching our backs that much closer. Thankfully, we passed through the forest without incident.

As the trees opened up into a grass plain, I spotted the estate’s thick stone walls just a short gallop away. The closest side stretched out in either direction, the weather-beaten bricks stubbornly standing their ground.

Similar stones peeked over the wall from the inside, the multitude of darkened windows looking down upon us like sullen eyes. A long, angled roof topped it all like a strange hat.

I could hardly believe such structures were once associated with Pasture.

To the distant right was what remained of a main road. It bobbed up and down as it weaved through large clumps of unruly grass, past the wall and into the unseen yard.

My eyes flitted over the open grass and across what few clouds dotted the sky. I sincerely hoped that Ivory was right, that everypony would be too afraid or uninterested to hang around the estate. But I wasn’t about to let my guard down until we were secure in that safe room. Even if the bandits didn’t think the place was important, I wasn’t so sure the militia would do the same. Especially if their… enthusiasm was as strong as Blaze’s. The last thing we needed was their misguided ‘heroism’ hindering our efforts. Especially since fighting back would only makes things exponentially worse.

Ivory took a deep breath. “There’s a back door to the manor, but we’ll have to use the front gate first.”

Her voice was cold and resolved, as though steeling herself to face a dragon head-on. I only hoped it would hold up.

I frowned. Having to go out in the open and take the obvious entrance didn’t sit well with me, but there weren’t any particularly good alternatives. Flight on such a clear day would be even more conspicuous, especially if I had to make several trips. And, powerful as Ivory was, I doubted teleportation was even an option.

If there was one good thing to be said for the situation, the openness would also let us easily spot anypony else who might be poking around.

“I’ll go first and do this if I think it’s safe.” I waved my forehoof side-to-side.

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not. I’m volunteering. If we’re going to do this right, we have to play it safe. People might not even care if they see me. The zombie, on the other hoof…”

“All right, you make a good point. And… thanks.” Ivory gave me a pained smile.

With each step, I could feel time slowing down. I scrutinized every sight, every sound. Even though I stayed in the shadow of the walls, I felt as exposed as if I had strolled straight across the plain. It couldn’t have taken much longer than five minutes to get to the path, but it felt as though I’d just retread the forest. With the way clear, I signalled to Ivory and her zombie.

Nothing had so much as stirred, but this was only the first step of many. I slipped up to the path and cast my eye down the road. All I could see was an iron gate, which lay ominously across the ground, and a field of high grass that ran parallel to the manor. Although it was unlikely anypony would have had enough time to hide without me hearing, the sheer capacity of the field left me edgy.

Regardless, time was of the essence, so I pressed onward. Wild weather had cut so many ruts into what was left of the path that ‘ankle turner’ would have been a far better descriptor. I stuck to the grass overgrowth, which was a much safer, quieter alternative.

I poked my head past the wall. At first, it was just enough to cast a quick glance at the courtyard. When I found no immediate danger, I slipped in for a better look.

To my left was the manor, its short side facing me. Dark double doors stood vigil, turning away the wide, battered stairs at their feet. Some remnant of the road forked, one side ending at the stairs and the other slinking off behind the far corner.

Tall windows ran high along the length of the structure; most of their panes were smashed, some with holes large enough to fit a grown pony. Between the windows and gate, I was glad Ivory had decided to leave. Only time knew what other vandalism had taken place.

I turned my attention to the right, where a tower rose up from the ground, and stopped short. For a second, I thought I was staring at one of Canterlot’s elegant astronomy towers. If not for the vines, stains and half of the domed roof being absent, I was certain it would have been a very close replica.

Reaching a hoof out, I signalled to Ivory, but found myself unable to pull my eyes away from the tower. She slid up beside me and fixed it with a stare of her own.

“He always fancied himself an astronomer… my dad, that is,” she whispered, a sad smile creeping up her lips. “But he never liked the big cities, even if he admired their observatories. So he hired an architect.”

I felt a touch of anxiety. Normally, I would have chastised someone for letting her memories run away with her like that. But given the circumstances, I just felt like it would have been wrong. Instead, I resolved to be extra vigilant while she had her moment.

The seconds dragged out before she jerked back and shook her head. She half-walked, half-trotted toward the far side of the manor, zombie courier in tow. “This way.”

I hurried to catch up, calling in as low a voice as I could. “Hey, careful, now.”

She simply nodded as her pace slowed.

We followed the trail, which ran the length of the manor’s backside. A nigh-indecipherable clump of random plants walled in the other side of the trail. After catching a glimpse of a few roses, I realized it must have been a garden; with their caretaker gone, they had long devolved into a battle for dominance.

About halfway down the path, it took a hard right into an L-shaped alcove. The trail snaked up to a simple wooden door, a servant entrance, no doubt. The glow of Ivory’s magic washed over the knob, then the door itself, which eased open with a reluctant groan.

The light of the sun cut through the darkness, revealing a stack of half-rotted barrels, ringed by several deflated burlap sacks. They were the last of the attendants, stubbornly waiting for their matrons to return and give them purpose.

Ivory stood stock still, her magic’s aura lingering on the door.

I winced, wondering if this really was such a good idea. Deep down, I knew it was already too late to turn back, but I felt like I had to say something. “Are you okay?”

Her magic faded away and her ears fell flat. “I… sorry, it’s just… Give me a moment.”

My mind scrambled over itself trying to pull an alternative from thin air. “Are you sure? We don’t have to do this. We could find someplace else. What about the tower?”

She shook her head. “No, that’s too risky. We have to do it properly.”

Ivory was right, of course. Time was likely running out and if we really did have a secure safe room, the location was a no contest. But what is the real price?

If only Blaze hadn’t be so reckless. If only I had kept my stupid mouth shut.

Ivory took a step forward. Then another, her pace quickening as she approached the door. I smiled at her darkened silhouette as it turned the corner. I might have cheered if we could have afforded the time and noise. For the moment, I would have to settle for escorting the zombie inside. I threw one last glance behind us before closing the door.

Ivory’s horn cast a pale light over the remainder of the room, revealing yet another door. With a touch of magic, it crept open.

I held my breath, hoping our luck would hold out. There were far more hiding places inside any building.

But beyond was not an assailant, but a stone wall; the large bricks ran left and right to form a hallway. I let out a sigh as I forced my heart to settle. I was getting jumpy, my heightened vigilance taking its toll.

With a sigh of her own, Ivory stepped into the hall.

The rest of the manor was something that I wanted to describe as lonely, but felt was more than a little inadequate. Perhaps ‘lost’ was the better word. Time had forsaken the place and never bothered to return.

Furniture was strewn about leading up to and inside the hallways, with various crates and articles thrown on or around them. Even as a total stranger, I could still see the panic. A family who had never needed to move scrambling to take all that they could; only at the door did they realize their impracticality.

We kept to the hallways. The multitude of closed doors left me edgy, even though the thick layers of dust suggested nopony had entered them in years.

Finally, we broke off into a large amphitheatre. The stone floor, when it wasn’t busy being covered in rocks, leaves and other debris, boasted a bold checkered pattern. This was tempered quite readily by the sunlight crawling its way through the dirty, broken windows; the light cast a grey gloom over everything in a way that somehow felt even less alive than the zombie standing beside me.

Ivory remained in the doorway, looking like someone was strangling her. Every so often, her eyes would flit over to some far corner of the room.

“Hey.” I gave her a quick nudge. “You okay?”

“Wha—oh… yeah. Memories.” She shook her head before hurrying over to the far wall. Her horn flashed, the room returning to life for but a split second. In fact, I thought I even saw the wall ripple.

The zombie made a beeline for the wall. I raised an eyebrow as his muzzle touched the surface. Then he carried our captive straight through the bricks and my confusion exploded into wide-eyed surprise.

“What the—?” I trotted over and poked the wall with my hoof. There was no resistance, no tingling, just the stone giving way as though it was air. I peered at Ivory.

A small smile formed on her lips. “I told you it was secure. Go. It closes after I pass through.”

I nodded and took a deep breath. I’m not sure why I was so nervous. I suppose the thought of technically having a thick stone wall, ethereal or not, cross right through me was a bit icky. Plus I didn’t even know what was on the other side. And maybe, just maybe, I knew I didn’t trust Ivory as much as I thought I did.

I shook my head and snorted, directing it more at myself than the wall. I broke into something of a quick half-gallop and practically leapt through.

11 - The Greater Good

I don’t know what I was expecting. Perhaps a magical laboratory filled with bubbling flasks. Or an expansive, multi-tiered library rivaling the likes of Canterlot. ‘Another stone corridor’ really should have been at the top of my list, but somehow I’d let my imagination run off with me. Again.

Though no wider than the previous corridors, the lack of randomly-scattered furniture made this one feel quite spacious. Small magical lanterns hung from the ceiling, their pale light dotting the darkness until the hallway swallowed them entirely. Curiously, there were only two doors on each side and positioned close to the entrance. Given the direction I was facing, I wagered it ran somewhere outside the manor. Perhaps the garden, or maybe even out of the estate entirely.

If it was the latter, I had to wonder why we hadn’t come in that way. Was it broken? That our friendship was still too new? Or perhaps that was the entrance being watched.

I glanced behind me just in time to catch Ivory about halfway through the entrance. My eyes flitted to her barrel, where the wall was cleaving her in two. I shuddered.

The surface rippled as soon as her tail was clear. Though nothing else happened, I felt like a heavy vault door had just closed and locked.

Despite all I had to ask her about this place, I had to push my curiosity aside. Any relevant information would have been a mistake to discuss around the prisoner. And besides, we were still on the clock.

A groan snapped my attention to our captive, where he was beginning to stir.

My eyes fell over each of the doors. “We should hurry. Which way?”

Ivory’s horn glowed and the right-side door swung open. “There.”

With a nod, I trotted in.

A quartet of lanterns lit the mess of a room. A table-and-chair set, just like the one from Ivory’s cabin, was loaded up with an assortment of boxes and crates. The containers spilled out onto the surrounding floor, hemming the table in.

A small, dust-covered bed clung to the far wall, barely able to avoid being dragged under the wooden sea. For just a moment, I could see a small white filly atop the blanket; tears streamed down her face, matting her coat as she told her diary that everypony has disappeared.

I shook my head and frowned. Idle speculation aside, the room’s usability was questionable.

That was when I noticed another door on the left, which, astonishingly enough, wasn’t completely blocked off. I raised an eyebrow at Ivory. She nodded and with a touch of her magic, the door slid open.

Just one lantern hung in the tiny room beyond. In fact, I’d say it was a borderline closet. And it was still less-cramped than the other room. Several plain wooden chairs, one of which was missing a leg and a half, were stacked up against the wall. A lonely old end table occupied the centre of the room.

Odd. Why such ordinary furniture had ended up here was just another question on the pile. Although, given the hoarding in the other room, at least some part of me suspected there were sentimental reasons.

The prisoner started to rock back and forth on the zombie; the motion became wilder and wilder, panicked gasps escaping his lips as his bound hooves beat against the zombie’s barrel. Though the zombie cared about as much as the wall, I couldn’t help but feel guilty. Things like that, they change a person forever.

Trotting over to the end table, I motioned to the nearby floor. The zombie quickly complied and Ivory followed up by gently levitating our captive to the ground. His flailing stopped for just a moment before becoming even more frantic.

He flopped around on the floor like a beached fish before he finally collapsed, his panting interlaced with tiny sobs.

I bit my lip and pushed onward. After checking to make sure the ropes were still tightly knotted, I made my way back to the larger room. I removed my scarf and flight satchels, grabbing my cloak and the stallion’s combat shoes from the latter.

After slipping on my cloak, I hurried over to Ivory, who was still watching the crumpled heap of a pony. I raised my muzzle to her ear and whispered. “No names, people or places, keep the zombie out of sight and don’t let him see your face.”

“Of course.” She nodded. We both drew our hoods and reentered the room.

I checked the captive’s bindings one more time before returning to Ivory’s side. “Can you undo his blindfold from here?”

“One second.” Her magic enveloped the knot and the blindfold fell to the floor.

The stallion peered around the room through slitted eyes before coming to focus on us. He blinked several times.

I gave him a few moments to adjust before stalking over to the table with slow, methodical steps. He looked up at me like a foal facing a nightmare and pity tightened my chest. But whatever happened, my partiality had to stay at the door. I couldn’t afford to go easy until I got a better gauge of him, especially since his youth meant the bandits had likely indoctrinated him.

Turning to the end table, I let the combat shoes fall to its surface where they made a resounding clunk.

The stallion cringed. After a long pause, he snapped into a defiant stare, as something deeply implanted was taking over.

I continued to watch him, tilting my head down to make sure he got the message. Although he seemed to have gotten a hold on his fear, the occasional shiver gave him away. I wondered if he would break and say something first.

He lasted about a minute before he blurted out, “W-who are you? W-what do you want?!”

“We are the guardians of Pasture. As to what we want: information,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.

“Th-the militia? A-as if I’ll tell the likes of you! M-my secrets will die with me!” He flailed against the ground.

Greeeat, a melodramatic tough guy. I rolled my eyes under my hood. “I don’t want your secrets.”

He looked at me like I’d just told him the moon was on fire. “You… don’t?”

“I want to find your prison. Where is it?”

“Why would you want to go down—” His face filled with fake-rage again. “I’m on to you! You-you’re gonna make me talk about weird stuff and get all buddy-buddy so I’ll tell you my secrets! Well, you can’t trick me with your mind games! You’ll have to kill me first!”

I resisted the urge to sigh. This kid was trying to find traps that weren’t even there. But if he wanted tricks, perhaps I could oblige. “Why are you so fixated on death?”

“What are you talking about? I’m not fix-whatever! I-I’m just not afraid to die!” He puffed out his chest, which only served to make his shivers more apparent.

“Really?” I cocked my head. “Because the way you keep hesitating, I’d say you’re plenty afraid.”

“N-no I’m not! I-I’m a ferocious fighter! The Scourge of the Hills! T-travelers quake at my name!”

I took a few steps forward and placed a forehoof on the combat shoes. “Shall we test that? I mean, if you really are a hardened murderer, wouldn’t it just be poetic?”

“I… I…” The stallion became as still as a rock.

I let my hoof drop from the table. “You’ve never seriously fought anyone in your life, have you?”

“Wha—how—No! You’re wrong! I am a proud, ruthless member of G’s Talons!” He threw out his chest again.

G’s Talons, huh? I wonder how many Equestrians would choose a name like that.

I shook my head. “Drop the act, kid. You’ve already given it up.”

The youth went silent, curling up against himself.

“Now, where is your prison?”

“W-why do you even want to know? P-plan on locking yourself up for us?” He almost mustered a scowl.

“The mare you ambushed. We want her back.”

“Hah! Couldn’t take us on, so you’re trying to make me spill the beans on them, huh?!” His face reignited with bravado.

Annoyance bubbled to the surface. I was half-tempted to tell him his comrades were dead. He almost certainly would have broken, but I thought better of it. Aside from being overly cruel, he was just as likely to clam up as he was to talk.

I took a couple steps forward. “They took her hostage and ran away. All they cared about was their own skin.”

“No… you lie! We don’t leave anypony behind!” The youth scowled for real this time.

I tilted my head. “If that’s true, then how did we capture you?”

“They’re… they’re just regrouping! Th-then they’re coming back for me!” he yelled, eyes frantically darting around the room. He was only trying to convince himself now. All I had to do was keep pushing.

“Really, now?” I asked, playing up the skepticism in my voice.

“Yeah! We’re a family! Not like you’d understand.” The stallion was totally unfocused now, just grasping at whatever he could. Not that I could blame him; a lifelong reality was coming apart right underneath him.

A ‘family’, huh? Well, that explains their suicidal zeal.

I stomped a hoof, bringing his attention back to me. “They took a hostage and ran. They’re gone. She’s gone. And she’s hardly even older than you.”

“S-so what?” He flailed again, this time trying to flop away.

I frowned, following him as he moved. “This filly was held at knifepoint, then kidnapped by one of your leaders.”

“A-and why should I care? She-she’s an outsider!”

Ivory trotted over and cut in, her voice getting just a little quieter with each sentence. “She’s a filly. Scared and alone, surrounded by strangers. Wondering what they’re going to do to her. Wondering if she’ll ever get to go home. Or if she’ll ever get to see her friends and family again.”

“How horrible would it be if she never did?” I added. “Is this what families do?”

“Y-yeah! W-we stick together and don’t let anyone mess with us!”

“That’s not a family, that’s a gang.” I shook my head, feeling a deep sadness wash over me. Despite what his so-called ‘family’ done to him, he was still so naive.

Ivory chimed in again, pointing a hoof at the urn on the stallion’s flank. “Your cutie mark… does it have to do with pottery?”

He blinked before shuffling to turn it away from us. “W-what does that have to do with anything?”

“It means you have a choice.” Ivory tapped the floor. “You can let somepony suffer and continue doing so, becoming the villain. The one everypony hates and who has to fear for his well-being every day of his life. Or you can change. Follow your cutie mark—and your heart.”

“I…” The youth stared at the floor.

I tilted my head. “Look, we’d prefer not to do things the hard way. Our number one priority is the safety of that filly. We could turn you over to the real guard, but that’s unlikely to end particularly well for either of you. So how about a deal? If you provide information that leads to her rescue, we’ll set you free.”

“A-all right…”

“I’m listening.”

The stallion turned his attention to the wall, eyes tracing a hidden map along its surface. “T-the lowest tunnel on the far right. Go down all the way down and turn left, then the third right after that. You can’t miss it.”

“From which direction?”

“The short hill.”

I turned to Ivory. “You know it?”

She nodded.

“Can you tell me anything about the guard rotation? Traps? Secret passages?”

The stallion gulped. “I… n-no. I don’t know. I don’t usually go down there.”

Grabbing the combat shoes, I started for the door. “We’ll be back with some accommodations.”

The youth’s eyes went wide. “W-what? You said you’d let me go!”

I glanced over my shoulder. “We did and we will. After we confirm what you’ve told us is true.”

He slumped to the ground, defeated. A part of me told me I was a terrible pony.

I led Ivory back into the hall. Two doors was probably good enough. If we were going to let him go, I didn’t want him having any more information than necessary.

“How quickly can you gather enough zombies for a sizable attack? Or at least a distraction?”

“A few hours. What are you thinking?”

“Given our lack of information, a smash and grab would be our safest bet. And that seems rather fast. Didn’t you send most of them back to their patrols?”

“I did, but I’ve been hiding some spares nearby. I’ve done it with every gang in case they try to force a confrontation.” She stared off down the hall. “For a hideout like that, we’ll need to bring a few more with us.”

I blinked. After the zombies’ performance in the forest, I was almost surprised she had less than full confidence. Which was pretty silly, considering all things have limitations. “And how far to the hideout?”

“About half a day’s travel.”

“All right. While you’re doing that, I’ll gather those accommodations so our ‘guest’ doesn’t wither up while we’re gone.”

“Okay. You might have some luck with the garden.” With a flash of her horn, the wall came alive again; each ripple seemed to leap through the air and cross my coat.

I set my face and trotted forward, a thought stopping me as my muzzle neared the stone. “Oh, and Ivory.”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the help.”

Her smile was both uncertain and wary, but a smile, nonetheless.

12 - Infiltration

I had once described the southern hills as ‘barren’. If that was my baseline, then the only way to describe their northern cousins was ‘desolate’. In other words, it was just the right kind of low-traffic area bandits would go to avoid unwanted visitors.

Unfortunately for the bandits, Ivory knew her domain.

I lay hidden in the brush on the taller, almost mountainous, side of things. I would have preferred to be closer to the edge, such that I could keep an eye on activity below. But this resilient little patch of greenery was the only hiding place within a mile. And while their pegasus sentry looked pretty bored, I doubt she’d have appreciated it if I had just strolled up beside her.

The plan was simple, though the parts that could go wrong were in no short supply. Just over the rise was a straight drop down to the caves; ‘unstealthy’ is about the only accurate way to describe such an open air descent. But when I considered that the alternative involved crossing large portions of the open camp, the descent didn't seem so bad. Ivory would begin her assault from the short side, hopefully drawing the guards away from their posts. Or in the very least, their eyes away from me.

After that came the tricky part: infiltrating the caves and rescuing Blaze without alerting the rest of the bandits. If all went well, I would just need to signal for a pegasus zombie to help me carry her out.

I kept a close eye on the sentry, though she had hardly moved since I arrived. Either her patrol route was tiny to the point of nonexistence or, more likely, she was simply lazy. Given that she was very likely to see me entering or leaving the hideout, she needed to be removed, one way or another.

Her armour appeared to be some kind of patchwork padded barding, the kind that would maybe stop a dull blade. A wingblade similar to mine hung off her wing, though the chips in its edge told me it wasn’t particularly well-cared-for. However, the biggest hole in her defense was that she plodded along with all the attention and posture of a dead tree. The fight would be over before it even started.

The question, then, was if I needed to fight. All it took was the sentry’s youth to remind me of our prisoner. I wondered how many of them there were, how many pawns the bandits had to throw away.

The stern, instructional tone of my mother’s voice cut through my thoughts. If you find yourself in a fight—a real fight, not just some schoolyard scrap—never hold back. Your opponent will come at you full force, so you must respond in kind. Do you understand?

She was right, of course. Even though I had commandeered some extra rope from the manor, combat is a tricky thing. There was no way I could guarantee the safety of that sentry.

I hoped to Celestia that she would fall for the distraction.

The seconds grew heavier, even reluctant. This was the calm before the storm and the world, in its stillness, was savouring the unease. I stretched my legs, shooing away the tingling tension that gripped them.

Even among the quiet of the hills, the first cry was nearly inaudible. But then came the torrent of frantic shouts, intermingled with the sharp ringing of a bell.

The sentry snapped to awareness and scrambled for the edge of the cliff. She was about an inch away from tumbling over the side when she skidded to a halt and stared. A full minute passed and her eyes remained on the chaos below.

It was almost the right time to strike. She just needed to take a few steps back, out of view of the main battle. My mind urged her forward. She spread her wings.

And then nothing.

She continued to stand there. Whether she was gripped by fear or a hidden savviness, I didn’t know. What I did know was that I couldn’t wait around forever.

I started to piece together a fairly risky plan; a plan that involved wrapping the rope around her throat and dragging her back to the brush. There were many things that could go wrong, but time was not on my side. My wing reached down to my flight satchel. I could already feel the rope around my forelegs and the struggle, the pain that it would bring. But the worst was not in my legs. No, it was in my chest. I gritted my teeth.

The sentry leapt into the air, venturing over the edge and into the fray.

Letting out a heavy breath, I lowered myself to the ground, a giant wave of relief washing over my body. I allowed myself another minute or so, just in case the sentry came back. When she didn’t, I struggled to my hooves and crept over to the edge.

The battle was going about as expected, with the zombies streaming through the cracks in the shoddy log gate and the bandits rushing to plug them up. Whatever interior posts there were now lay abandoned. A major lapse in judgement, but if I was being fair, they had no reason to believe they were fighting anything but zombies.

With a glance at the sky, I hopped over the edge, hovering toward the ground.

I kept as close to the walls as I dared. The last thing I needed to do was clip a wing and make a scene of myself. Progress was slow and with each foot, I could feel my muscles tighten, waiting for an arrow or javelin to come flying out of nowhere.

But not a soul came to contest me and I was almost surprised to feel my hooves touch the ground. Whatever Ivory was doing, it was working. I could only hope she kept herself safe.

And to ease her worry, I reminded myself, I need to focus on my own task.

Before me lay the lowest tunnel on the right and a potential maze of a hideout. With nothing but a prisoner’s information and a deep breath, I ventured into the shadows.

Tiny glowing stones, like extremely weak versions of Ivory’s lanterns, dotted the walls. They led the way in an alternating pattern, the distance between them stretched as thin as possible. Not that my dark coat and I could really complain.

I weaved around the lights, creating a strange, rhythmic dance among the darkness. After a few yards, an incomprehensible murmur touched my ear. I froze, tilting my head down the tunnel. The voice persisted, but didn’t seem to be getting any closer.

With a frown, I pressed onward, hoping I wasn’t about to run into some kind of checkpoint. My eyes flitted over the walls, looking for good hiding spots. Unfortunately, there weren’t even any obvious branch-offs, nevermind hidden alcoves. If things went badly, bolting was about my only option.

“... you mean…?!” The voice was definitely feminine and if I wasn’t hearing things, it had a scratchy, sort of beaky quality to it.

“...gate… send help...” This one was younger and male, with a tinge of nervousness.

The third voice carried a deep bass that I easily recognized as the fake-necromancer’s. “...swear take care of her… … my word…”

The tunnel finally broke off on the left, although it was not the end-of-hall turn I was looking for. A somewhat stronger light, like that of a dirty lantern, flooded across the floor and up the wall. I wagered the voices were coming from that branch, which meant there was very little chance of me sneaking past unnoticed. I slid up against the wall, hoping they would decide they had better things to do than stand around.

I poked my head forward just enough to get half of an eye on the room. A lantern sat in the middle of a crude, round table, illuminating its occupants and the tables around them. The fake-necromancer, who was still wearing his robe, stood beside a young, muscular earth pony. The earth pony wore a set of saddlebags that shifted with his nerves. Across the table was a griffon who, best I could tell, had a cloudy blue-white coat with brownish flecks.

“You’d better,” the griffon spoke low, almost growling as she wrapped her talons around the edge of the table. “Then maybe the family can forgive your failure.”

“Yes, ma’am.” The fake-necromancer answered. But this was not the intimidator from before. No, there was a hint of desperation in his voice. He turned and strode toward the darkness at the far end of the room, the earth pony following close behind.

I furrowed my brow, but after a few moments of squinting, I thought I could make out the outline of another entrance.

“Hey!” The griffon’s voice cut through the silence. “Leave the packages here, you oaf.”

“Y-yes, ma’am! Sorry, ma’am!” The earth pony doubled back, hastily slinging the saddlebags onto the table.

The two hurried out, leaving the griffon behind.

She practically tore the flaps from the bags and rummaged through them with focused intensity. Finally, she pulled out a rolled-up scroll and unfurled it. She spent a good few minutes reading it before letting out a “Pah! Bureaucratic dickwad.”

She scowled and tossed the paper onto the table before stalking off.

With the way clear, something took hold of me. I crept into the room, ears swiveling as I made my way toward the table. I kept low, within the shadows beneath the furniture. When a minute passed without anyone’s return, I darted over to the table and snatched the page.

Glancing nervously around me, I held the scroll next to the lamp.

G,
What is taking so long? Ponies are getting restless. Finish the job soon or there will be no payment.

-P

I blinked. So the bandits are taking orders from someone. Someone important at that. Which explains their persistence, but why? Who would have such a stake in a backwater town like Pasture?

I glanced at each exit before sliding the letter into my flight satchel. Poking through the saddlebags next, I came up more or less empty-hoofed; they contained a random assortment of food stuffs, but nothing else. The only interesting part was that these weren’t rations. They were packaged goods, wrapped up marketplace style.

It was all speculation, but a couple thoughts raced through my mind. The first was that Pasture was constantly being infiltrated by bandits, which, after seeing the militia, would hardly be a surprise. The second was that whoever their contact was was likely meeting them inside the town proper.

Returning the bag to its previous position as best I could, I slipped out of the room with my prize. I had a pony to rescue, after all.

The hallway was pretty much abandoned and stayed that way. While I continued to advance with great care, that left, then third right came and went without so much as a peep. But that was the easy part.

It was very unlikely that the prison guard or guards had abandoned their posts. Barring astronomical luck, remaining hidden would be impossible. I would have to disable them. I flexed my wingblade wing.

I came to a ramp, the top of which was quite chunky and uneven, as though whoever created it couldn’t decide if they wanted to build stairs or not. It snaked a couple times before finally leveling off.

The room was almost totally bare, with nothing but open space and a few of those glowstones along the walls. A single metal door was fixed into the far wall. Even at that distance, I knew there was no way I was opening it without a key.

A muffled crunch pulled my attention to the right. A vaguely quadrupedal black blob charged toward me, the features of a pony coming into existence as it left the shadows. It held a shaft between its teeth, angled such that one end was pointed straight at me. My reflexes sent me low and to the side; the earth pony's short spear cut through dead air as he drove it into the wall. The screech of metal scraping rock, as well as a shower of stoney shards, filled the air.

Circling round, I brought my wingblade slicing toward his barrel. He hastily shifted and my blow fell short, slashing across the top of his flank. He let out a muffled grunt as he pivoted his head, bringing the butt of the spear toward me.

I stepped back and the earth pony’s weapon swished past my muzzle, finding the wall again. Seeing an opening, I darted in, pressing my blade down against his shaft, pinning it in place. He struggled to pull it away, to put it between us. But it was too late; he’d left his throat exposed. And then it was over.

He made this horrible hacking, gurgling sound as the spear clattered to the floor. His legs thrashed while he crumpled down the wall, leaving dark streaks across the uneven surface.

I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. He was my opponent and leaving my back open could be a fatal mistake. My wing quivered as I kept my blade leveled at him. I watched his eyes grow hazy, the rise and fall of his chest becoming more erratic and slow. Until finally, he lay motionless in a pool of his own blood.

My stomach churned, but I didn’t have time for that. I had to focus, to push the image aside.

A quick search revealed that he had been wearing a crude belt with a small pouch; within that pouch was a single iron key. Snatching it up, I dashed for the cell door and away from my terrible victory.

With a bit of coaxing, the lock clicked and the door swung open, casting a paler than pale light over a prone Blaze. One of her hind legs was chained to the wall, but there didn’t appear to be any further bindings.

She squinted as she stared up at me. “Come to make another deal? Stop wasting your breath.”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not your captor.” I lobbed the key in her direction.

“You.”

“Yes, ‘me’ has come to rescue you. Now hurry up and free your leg. I’ll keep an eye on the hall.” And with that, I turned my attention outward. The wall had taken more of a beating than anypony and that much noise was unlikely to go unnoticed by any stragglers.

The shackle clattered to the ground and I threw a glance back at Blaze. She was already on her hooves, limping over to me, hind leg half-dragging behind her.

I raised an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Like a sleeping leg will stop me,” she boasted.

“Riiight. Now let’s get going before—” I snapped my mouth shut as the unmistakable sound of hoofsteps trickled into my ear.

The fake-necromancer disembarked from the ramp, a demonic red radiating from under his hood. I heard a half-gasp, but it quickly morphed into a low, malicious chuckle. “Hello, ‘Necromancer.’”

13 - Life or Death

“How bold of you to come here yourself. Too... complicated for your little zombie friends?” The fake-necromancer stalked forward, though he kept himself between us and the ramp.

“Says the wannabe,” Blaze called over my shoulder.

He let out a snort. “I don’t know what you want with the brat, but she’s our property now and we don’t like ponies taking our stuff.”

I shook my head. “She’s a pony, not a thing to be had.”

“Oh? And who’s going to stop us?”

Drawing myself taller, I stared defiantly at his concealed face. “Me.”

He laughed, a mockery intermingled with his malice. “You self-righteous, little bitch. You think you’re different? You take what you want just the same. Or did poor Brass slit his own throat?”

The fake-necromancer pointed at hoof at the corpse. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blaze stiffen and look away.

Self-defense, even if a fight was inevitable. I told myself. It was a flimsy excuse that would hardly hold up against deeper analysis. But for the moment, it kept my mind from wandering out of reality.

“Enough of your painfully weak games.” I brandished my blade. “Step aside and I’ll let you go.”

A futile attempt at intimidation, but I had to try. If there was even the tiniest chance of avoiding such a dangerous foe, it was worth making myself look like a fool.

“You’ll let me go? I don’t think so. My boss wants the Necromancer’s head on a platter. If I dangle your entrails in front of her, maybe she’ll come out of her little hidey-hole.”

Narrowing my eyes, I ever-so-slowly shifted myself to a more agile stance.

“What? You think I didn’t figure out that that magic wasn’t yours?” He cocked his head. “Thought you could make me think you a Shadow Walker?”

I mentally raised an eyebrow. There was something strangely flattering in the assumption that I was powerful enough to sell myself, to trade a piece of my being to a darker power, such that I might wield spells as a pegasus. Especially since such tales were myth. Not that I was dismissing it based on its status as a legend. Not after Ivory. However, my first guess would have been a unicorn hiding under illusionary magic.

With a flourish, he continued. “No, I felt it and knew. Knew that you didn’t bear the touch of dark m—”

I lunged, deciding that if he was going to make death threats and then go on to showboat, he was going to pay for his ego.

There was that split second of frozen surprise, but he was paying more attention than I gave him credit for. He moved just enough for me to miss his neck, my blade plunging through his robe and into his barrel. He let out a scream, his long knife tumbling out of his robe as he vanished in a burst of red.

I kicked the weapon across the ground, where Blaze’s aura deflected it toward her former cell. Whether or not it reached the prison, I didn’t know. A tingling in the air brushed against my back, pulling my attention behind me.

Halfway was about as far as I made it when another wave of light washed the world away. I winced and tried to blink through the redness. Pain blasted across my ribs as something struck my right side. I stumbled away from the blow, all the while trying to steady myself with my left wing and making a blind counterattack with my right. My blade caught something and tore straight through it. Whatever it was, it cut far too easily to have been my mark.

As my sight returned, I caught the barest glimpse of the fake-necromancer’s silhouette before he was gone again. The tingling returned, but this time it brushed across my left side. I got a forehoof up, but my frantic effort only stopped one of his hooves. I gasped as I was sent sprawling.

I gritted my teeth, pushing the disorientation away. My muscles summoned instinct and a half-roll later, I was at least rightside-up. Scrambling to my hooves, I was just in time to see Blaze hobble-charging straight at the fake-necromancer. I wanted to shout at her to back off, but I couldn’t find the breath.

Despite her highly-telegraphed assault, her wild headbutt managed to glance off the edge of his chin. She reared up, a frenzy of blows coming from her forehooves, but all she struck was the red-tinged air.

The fake-necromancer appeared again, throwing a couple of his own forehoof blows into her side, followed by a headbutt to the back of her skull. Her cries became grunts as her jaw snapped shut. She brought herself around to face him, but this only succeeded in letting him buck her square in the chest. She skidded across the dirt with an unceremonious crash.

A touch of rage trickled in, intermingling with my growing concern. My body wanted to rush to her side, but that almost certainly would have been the end of us. Until the shadow of the fake-necromancer no longer loomed over us, all I could do was hope her injuries weren’t life-threatening.

By now, a dark spot had spread along the fake-necromancer’s robe. The stink of sweat, intermingled with the scent of blood, practically radiated from him.

Push him harder! He’ll buckle soon! my mind yelled.

Holding my wing high, I slashed toward him with a wide, obvious arc. He ducked under the blow as I slid past. Just the way I wanted it. I bucked as hard as I could and the echoing crack told me it had been well-aimed. My follow-up cut went straight for the throat, though I only succeeded in cleaving through his robe.

Red light flooded out from under his hood, but he didn’t teleport immediately. I flung myself forward, using my head where my wingblade had failed. He was halfway through a stumble when the light took him away again.

I tensed, every ounce of me anticipating the return of the tingling air. Several seconds passed and I began to worry. If he had fled, he could be bringing reinforcements down upon us. Then again, even though I didn’t know how teleporting worked, the apparent strain made me reasonably certain he couldn’t have gone far. Not a single hoofstep reached my ear.

My eyes fell on the open cell. He could have been hiding there, waiting for me to turn my back to tend to Blaze. For a moment, I wished I still had the key with me. But I quickly realized that trying to lock a teleporting unicorn into such a shoddy prison would have been futile.

Creeping up to the opening, I scanned the darkness. The second I spotted the fake-necromancer’s silhouette, there was a flurry of movement, followed by the increasingly familiar red flash. I whirled to meet the tingling along my right flank.

The door slammed straight into my muzzle. Pain and numbness fought for dominance as the world melted into a reddish, shadow-lined blur.

There was more tingling, this time brushing across my rear. I whirled, or at least attempted to, tripping over myself as my legs moved a half-second behind my mind. I was barely turned when I saw the flash of what must have been steel hovering just above me. I feebly raised my blade, hoping against all odds that it would be enough for a block.

But the strike never came.

As my vision cleared, the fake-necromancer materialized in front of me, twitching amidst a half-completed stride. The glow of Blaze’s magic pulled my sight down, to the prison guard’s spear, where half the shaft had found its way into his chest.

The fake-necromancer’s own aura flickered out and he and his knife clattered to the ground. Though the churning of my stomach insisted that the spear had pierced his heart, I forced myself to check his vitals. One can never be too sure when it comes to talented mages. But the strike had been true and I was only too happy to step away from the corpse.

The spear continued to drive further into his body and I called over my shoulder. “He’s gone, Blaze. Stop. Blaze?”

I gave her a questioning glance. The light of Blaze’s horn highlighted her face and the wide-eyed terror within. In the shadow beneath, her teeth were gritted, her entire body quivering. My confusion melted into sympathy and I hurried over to her.

When she failed to acknowledge me, I gave her a sharp nudge. “Hey, you okay? This… this was your first, wasn’t it?”

She gave me a blank stare, like a wounded foal, begging me to make the pain go away. “I…”

Taking a deep breath, I met her gaze. “Look, I know it hurts and this is going to sound harsh, but you have to focus. Whatever you need, I’ll help you. But we’re still in danger and I need you to stay strong until we can get out of here. Understand?”

With a short nod, her horn went silent.

“Good, now follow me and try not to make too much noise.”

Every tunnel seemed longer, every step, louder, and every branch full of skulking shadows. After all, if the fake-necromancer had thought to come back, who knows how many others had had the same bright idea?

The problem was only compounded by Blaze’s inattention. Though she had a knack for moving around with ease, she walked straight into my flank more than once. Her face was constantly contorted and every so often her eyes would snap back to awareness. While I didn’t doubt her effort, I did doubt that it would be enough for her to be useful in a fight.

So I found myself watching out for both of us and, once again, the strain taking its toll. My nerves wound tighter with each flicker of a shadow, each echo that wasn’t our own. We hadn’t even seen a single soul and all that did was make me wonder when our luck would run out.

The worst was the final stretch to the exit and not just because it was the final stretch. While the uninterrupted length was intimidating coming in, having only the heart of the enemy base to flee to made me magnitudes more nervous. As the white of the exit grew, I felt like my heart was about to pop. What lay hidden behind the curtain of blinding light? What stalked behind us, hungry for our exposed flanks?

I decided that should there be enemies waiting, we had little choice but to charge through. It was a plan; a plan that, given Blaze’s state of mind, failed to fill me with confidence. But it was our best chance of survival.

As I scooted up against the mouth of the corridor, I held my wingblade poised and ready to strike. But the entrance was as quiet as when I had arrived and the only sounds to reach my ears were faint cries and the distant clatter of metal.

Slipping along the cliff, I craned my neck to get a look at the topmost edge, to see if the sentry had returned. Her post remained abandoned.

I motioned for Blaze to advance as I started rummaging through my flight satchel. The signal, a coarse, white ball, was exactly where I’d left it.

Ivory’s words floated through the back of my mind. Step on it when you’re ready.

Though the ball had felt sturdy enough, once it was between my hoof and the ground, it gave way like a dried-up sandcastle. Particles drifted away, evaporating into thin air until there was nothing left. I turned to watch for the zombie and nearly let out a yelp.

The pale pegasus was already standing beside me.

After taking a few moments to calm my heart attack, I pointed toward the zombie. “Your ride.”

“W-why?” Blaze’s eyes drifted toward my back.

“I’m not strong enough to carry you. Not in a combat zone, anyway. Now hurry up.”

She opened her mouth, but thought better of it. With one more look of uncertainty, she gingerly slid herself onto the zombie’s back.

Flapping my wings, I took to the sky, toward what little cloud cover there was.

We were almost home-free when I spotted some rapid movement out of the corner of my eye: a pegasus and a griffon were headed our way.

Even though they weren’t closing particularly fast, this was a problem. I couldn’t very well lead them back to our rendezvous point.

I glanced at Blaze, who looked like she was going to be sick, and her zombie-carrier. I wondered just how maneuverable it was and if we could lose the bandits. But without any additional safety gear, I couldn't be sure the chase wouldn’t accidentally turn Blaze into a pancake.

Option B, then, would be to fall back and fight, delay them long enough for the zombie to get away. After that, I could give them the slip on my own. My body ached, protesting against another battle and especially against a two-on-one. But when doing nothing would be even worse, I had little choice in the matter. I took a deep breath.

My blood ran cold as an ear-piercing screech rent the air. A zombie-bird burst from a nearby cloud, spiraling toward bandits like an oversized arrow. The bandits’ eyes bugged out as they scattered away. Never had I felt horror and relief so keenly intertwined.

I shook my head. Focus.

Making a mental note to thank Ivory, I led us to freedom.

14 - No Victory is Without Cost

The hills cut away, their bulbous tops collapsing into a mess of yellowed grass. But those on hoof would find little relief from their hardship. Massive rock formations sprawled across the would-be plain, entangling the ground like oversized tree roots. Roots that were set ablaze by the falling sun. Thankfully, traveling by air meant we had the far easier task of navigating from above. The trick would be finding a safe place to land.

I’d only seen the site once, but the maze had rather thoughtfully divided itself up into distinct sections. Every cluster sported a significant deformation of one kind or another. Large grooves and chips, the brutal scars of wild weather, ran every which way. The triangle tangle with a jagged ‘C’ carved into its face would be easy enough for us to find. But anyone attempting a blind search could be down there, or even up in the sky, for days.

A few dozen yards in, and the ‘C’-shaped promise of salvation came into view. I banked, circling the rocks a couple times. Though it was highly unlikely, someone could have found their way there by chance. And I wasn’t about to let myself get sloppy just because we were in the home stretch.

When neither the narrow clearing, nor the surrounding shadows showed signs of movement, I began a slow, precise descent. Numerous outcropping protruded from the boulders and the last thing the zombie-pegasus and I needed to do was crash into one.

As we landed, I glanced back at Blaze. Her eyes were unfocused, staring, yet not staring, at the ground. Her legs were wrapped around the zombie tighter than a saddle strap and her chest heaved with each breath. It was then that I realized her apprehension was neither from the day’s fight, nor her prejudice of zombies. She had another, stronger fear: flying. Whether this was better to any noticeable degree was up for debate.

Blaze’s eyes snapped back into focus, darting rapidly over the ground; with each second, their pace slowed and her death grip loosened. She practically melted off the zombie’s back. Making no effort to stand, she remained on the ground, looking like she was about to be sick.

Despite having to close her mouth every few seconds, she managed to squeeze out a few words. “Where… where are we? Why did we stop?”

“The journey is too long to do in one night, especially since the bandits will probably be out looking for us.” I trotted along the rocks, looking for somewhere to hide, but still have a good view of the clearing. Luckily, I didn’t have to go far: the second alcove was about the right size.

“And we’re… going to camp... here?” She gave me and my newfound accommodation a dubious stare.

I shook my head. “No. We’re meeting a friend. She’ll take us somewhere much safer. We’ll rest there and let things blow over a bit.”

Blaze buried her muzzle in her forehooves. “Ugh… Do… do we have to fly again?”

“We’ll be less conspicuous on hoof.” I felt sorry for her. Even most pegasi spend some of their younger years afraid of flying. But once the fear is conquered, the feeling is wondrous. Blaze, unfortunately, seemed like she would be less-than-receptive to another try.

“Oh, thank Celestia.” Blaze flopped her legs out. For a second, I thought I could see the tension seeping out of her and into the grass.

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Try not to be sick too long. We need to find a good place to hide.”

“Not sick.” Blaze struggled to her hooves.

“Right. Could have fooled me.”

“Okay, okay. Maybe a little.” She scuffed a hoof across the ground. “It… it was just wrong. When my hooves aren’t on the ground, it’s like I’m missing part of my body.”

I wondered if she had simply been born with a strong phobia or if the reason was a bit more tangible. My eyes fell upon the flaming hoofprints on her flank. “Does it have to do with your cutie mark? With... pathfinding, is it?”

“Yeah, something like that.” She finally got up and plodded toward me.

“Something like that?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. But it’s not like when my dad looks for a trail. He uses his eyes. I just… feel it, I guess.” Blaze stopped, planting a forehoof against the ground for a few moments.

I watched her hoof, though nothing seemed to happen. “That’s impressive. Got some earth pony in you?”

Blaze nodded and picked up the pace, covering the rest of the distance in a couple bounds. “On my mom’s side.”

“All right, we can continue this conversation later. For now, we should concentrate on hiding,” I said, tapping a hoof beside me.

She nodded again and slipped into position.

The minutes crept by. What adrenaline remained trickled away and when that was gone, my focus began to fade. Doubts… questions… faces… all of them hammered at the wall in my mind.

No. Not now. The wall’s thickness redoubled and they were gone. At least for the moment.

I glanced at Blaze, whose ever-so-slowly drooping stance told me her mind had also turned to less-pleasant thoughts. Since we were at least safer among the rocks, I let her be. She needed all the time she could get.

And truth be told, I needed a distraction. So my eyes combed the ground, across each crack in the walls and through the skies above. My ears followed not far behind. I lost count of how many times my senses completed their patrol. But given that my thoughts hadn’t wandered so much as an inch, it didn’t really matter.

The soft crunch of hoofsteps nipped at my ears and they swiveled to meet the sound.

“Caw! Caw! Caw!” Ivory’s imitation echoed among the crags.

“Hoo!” I stepped out of the shadows.

Ivory turned the corner, a subtle stiffness to her step. A long, angled slash divided the side of her cloak. Red splotches, where the weapon had actually bit in, dotted the upper half. No matter how hard she tried to hide it, the awkwardness of her gait betrayed her.

“You’re hurt! What happened?” I called as loud as I dared.

“So are you.”

“I’m just a bit roughed up. But you, you’re bleeding!” With a frown, I circled round to point a forehoof at her side.

”It’s just a flesh wound. One of them surprised me, that’s all.”

“What? How? I’ve seen your…” I gave Blaze a sideways glance, “troops at work.”

“Nevermind that. We need to get going.”

She was right, but I didn’t like how dismissive she was acting. I didn’t know if she just didn’t want me to worry, which I might add she was failing spectacularly at, or truly believed the cut to be minor. Once we were safe, we were going to have a chat.

I turned to Blaze, who was staring at us, a tinge of her old ‘suspicious guardsmare’ returning to her face. But if she had any serious concerns, she didn’t voice them. She simply followed, allowing us to direct her when necessary.

Ivory led us along a short, but winding path of boulders. We entered another clearing where a wide cliff face loomed above us. As she approached the wall, she gave it a careful onceover.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Here. This is it.” Ivory stopped and held her horn high. With a flash of her magic, a ripple rolled across the cliff face.

Of course. I should have guessed. Scratch one question.

“What the hay was that?” Blaze took a step back.

“The call of safety.” I answered. “Follow me.”

Trotting forward, I barely even had to fight off my old reservations. The thoughts were simply lost, washed away by the flood of relief.

As expected, I was greeted by the stone walls and ceiling lanterns of Ivory’s hideout. The tunnel stretched out into the darkness, creating an odd sense of deja vu, even if there weren’t any doors at my end.

I glanced behind me. When the others did not appear, I stuck my head back out.

Blaze was stepping back and forth in an awkward dance of indecisiveness.

“Hurry up.”

She stared at me and shrunk away. “Easy for you to say.”

“I’ll admit I’ve gotten used to it, yes. But we need somewhere safe from those bandits and you can’t get much better than this. Would you rather sit out here all night until they find you?”

Blaze groaned. “Okay, okay…”

I sat on an old cushion, the aged stuffing having long crossed over from cushy to lumpy. Equally old dust scratched at my rear from its hiding place in the fabric. But I hardly noticed. Just like I hardly noticed the map on the table in front of me.

What I did notice, however, were the walls and the clutter of crates and boxes. And even then, only because they confined me, caging me with my introspection. A tiny consolation was that the room had less of that malicious clutter than its twin across the hall.

There was enough room to fit a couple ancient cots on the floor. Not that I was in the mood to make use of them. No, the moment all three of us were through the wall, my mental insurrection had resumed.

I tried to deflect it again and succeeded in shifting my focus to Ivory. I pestered her about her wound until she finally relented on the condition that it would just be me and her in one of the side rooms.

After a long, uncomfortable walk down the remainder of the hall, Ivory quietly asked Blaze to wait in the less-cluttered room. I had expected Blaze to complain, but she went without a word.

Once inside, I helped Ivory clear her bed so she could at least lie down. It was only then that she allowed me to lift her cloak. The cut was shallow, barely deeper than the surface. But it was still enough to make Ivory move with care and infection was always a possibility. Especially so when it comes to the ill-maintained weaponry of brigands.

What happened next was a marvel to behold. She called it a ‘minor healing spell’ and while it wasn’t flashy, the effects were undeniable. The wound did not close immediately, an expectation of fiction that I berated myself for indulging. But the red rawness drained away, leaving me with the impression that at any moment, it really could just sew itself back up.

As Ivory’s eyes began to droop, she told me she’d be fine and that there were cots in the other room. I tried to protest, but she shooed me out with a few severe glances.

Only once I’d stepped into the hall did a realization hit me: I’d just assumed my initial injuries weren’t as badly as I’d thought, but the more I thought about the spell, the more certain I was that she had used it on me. I deflected the zombie-bird’s visage for the umpteenth time.

But the bird was the least of my worries and my thoughts turned back to my faltering barricade. The cracks were everywhere, whispers of harm and hypocrisy seeping through. Whispers that were mine.

There was no need to look for the cot. I knew that there would be no sleep for me. And though I thought I might find refuge by double-checking our plan, my mind would not be so easily fooled.

I saw him. That stallion, Brass. Fading. failing. Gone. And again. If I closed my eyes, it only became clearer. Was I right? Could I have done something differently? Did he have somepony he cared for? Somepony who cared for him? Did he regret his life of banditry?

My mind squabbled endlessly. I tried to push him away, to flee from him. From myself. Then Brass fell, tumbling into the abyss like a cardboard cutout. Underneath, the fake-necromancer. Surprised again. And dead in an instant. A twisted heap on the ground. I had bloodied him. I had weakened him. I didn’t even know his name. Did it really have to end that way?

I remembered the desperation in his voice, cowering beneath the griffon’s commands. Was he really so evil? Or was it bravado? Survival veiled in theatrics?

Only he knew.

But there would be no answer now. Because dead ponies don’t talk. Only haunt. I shoved him aside. He flopped away, tumbling into the abyss like a discarded doll. Underneath, the stallion, Brass…

I don’t know how long it was before I found myself again. For a life? For two lives? Probably not enough. But mine had to move on. The pain dulled as I pressed it against the thought. I told myself that not all mysteries could be solved. I told myself not every choice could spare everyone. And most importantly, I told myself I would never forget. That this would never fall into normalcy, routine or mundanity. Never.

Letting out a deep breath, drawn from the entirety of my being, I opened my eyes. The pain lingered, but it had become bearable.

I glanced over at the cots, where Blaze lay so bonelessly that I thought she might have fallen asleep with her eyes open.

She raised her gaze to meet mine.

“How are you holding out?” I asked.

“Fine,” she half-mumbled.

“Really?” I stood, letting my skepticism play out across my face.

Blaze lowered her head. “I… how do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Fight to the… the end like that and just... shrug it off?”

In truth, I could see where she was coming from, but that made it no less of a smack to the face. As I stooped to look her in the eye, I resolved to eliminate that misconception. “First of all, I don’t just shrug if off.”

“But you were so calm like…” Blaze’s voice dropped to a near-whisper, “...like it didn’t even affect you.”

“No, that’s not true. Maybe it seemed that way, but I was just putting it off. Ignoring it until it was safe enough to give it my full attention.”

She blinked. “And you’re not already over it?”

I shook my head. “Different people have different ways of coping. But that’s just it. It’s coping, learning to move on, but never completely leaving the pain behind. It doesn’t simply vanish into thin air. It’s not easy and I don’t think it ever should be.”

Confusion spread over Blaze’s face. “What? Why? Why would anyone want to keep feeling pain?”

“Because it’s a reminder: weapons are not trivial.” I pulled my wingblade from my scarf and set it on the table. “My instructor… she once told me about her own instructor, how he had this saying he repeated to every new recruit.”

Blaze sat up. “What was it?”

“Don't let yourself reach a point where killing is easy, because that's when you lose yourself.”

“Oh…” She slumped back down.

I settled down beside her. “That’s why the pain is good. It makes us stop and think, to use our judgment. So that we don’t become monsters, killing everyone we don’t like.”

Blaze shivered. “I guess that makes sense. I... I don’t want to become anything like that. But what am I supposed to do, then?”

“You’ll have to figure that out for yourself. But there is one thing I know for certain. Don’t be so eager to push the pain away. That just bottles it up so that it comes back worse. Do what feels right.”

Without another word, Blaze leaned against me, burying her face in my mane. I started, but quickly recovered as she let out the tiniest of sobs. Dampness trickled through my hair and into my coat. I simply placed my head atop hers.

And if I’m being honest, I had a few tears of my own to shed.

15 - Alliances

A long, drawn out groan, the odd low-to-high whine that hinges love to make, pierced the darkness. My consciousness stirred as it hung somewhere in that void between dream and reality. Slowly, sluggishly, I swam toward the realization until it shot forward, crashing right into my mind’s eye.

My eyes snapped open, climbing the unfamiliar walls until the panic subsided.

Blaze was still tucked up against me, her soft exhalations tickling my mane. Squinting, I tried to recall the moments before sleep, but all I had was a muddled mix of fatigue and tears.

I looked up toward the door, even though I knew nopony other than Ivory could have entered. There was that distant longing in her eye, the one that could cleave through time. I wondered which, if not all, of her family she was seeing. Regardless, I didn’t feel comfortable asking.

Her eyes met mine and she hastily cleared her throat. “Sleep well?”

“As much as can be expected, I guess.” I nudged at Blaze’s head, gently guiding it onto her pillow. “How was yours?”

“Restful.” Ivory scuffed a hoof. “But healing spells are good at that.”

Last night’s curiosity returned and I found myself staring at the gap in her cloak. Though my whole body felt like one big bruise, my thirst for knowledge pushed me to my hooves. “And your injury?”

She lifted the side of her cloak. The only trace of her wound was a soft pink scar carving a long, thin bald spot across her coat.

“That’s amazing,” I said, fighting the urge to poke it with my hoof.

My gaze drifted to her flank and I realized that this was the first time I’d gotten a clear look at her cutie mark. The black silhouette of a pony climbing a simple mound of dirt was strangely endearing. It was a cutie mark that knew, despite all stigma, that it wanted to do good.

Questions that had been lingering at the back of my mind drifted to the forefront and I looked back at Ivory. “So how did it happen, anyway? You know I know what your zombies are capable of. Your defenses should have been impenetrable.”

“It’s not important.” She tried to look away, though her eyes kept flicking back to me.

On one of her return bouts, I met her gaze and held it. “Ivory.”

“You were taking so long, I started to worry. So I sent a bird to check. I… I didn’t want to lose you.” Ivory looked away again.

“And that’s how the bandit got through?”

Ivory nodded.

So our close save was… A horrible wave of guilt slammed into my gut, but I fought through it as best I could. I staggered forward and pressed my cheek against hers, careful not to stay in her personal space too long.

“Wha—?” She stared.

“Thanks. You really saved us back there and… well, I’m honoured that you care so much about me. I just feel terrible that you had to get hurt for it.”

“It was nothing.” She looked at the floor for just a moment before her eyes snapped over to the cots and she pulled her cloak down.

I turned to follow her gaze.

Blaze was still on her cot, but her eyes were wide, fixed on the spot where Ivory’s cutie mark was concealed. Only a bare whisper, modulating between awe and uncertainty, escaped her lips, “N-necromancer…”

“I am. So what?” Ivory gave Blaze a hard stare, the same kind of look she’d given me when we’d first met.

Blaze’s jaw moved up and down, but the words drifted out like gaseous thoughts escaping on their own. “I… this… This isn’t what I expected.”

Ivory rolled her eyes. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

“She’s not a bad pony, you know.” I said, trying to cut the tension before it could build any further. I had a feeling I’d need a sharper blade.

“I know, it...” Blaze looked at the the tear in Ivory’s cloak. “... it’s hard. I was always taught that you’re the face of everything wrong with our town.”

Ivory slumped a little.

I shot Blaze a questioning glance. “Really? Every problem?”

With a nod, she turned her attention to the cot, scuffing little swirls in the sheet. “Droughts, parasprites eating the crops, wild storms, you name it; he always said they were all hexes or curses, brought down upon us by the Necromancer.”

“He?” I was pretty certain I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear it from Blaze.

“The mayor, Prideful Policy.”

Ivory stiffened.

“Thought so.” I tapped my hoof against my chin.

Blaze looked up for just a moment. “What? You know him?”

“No. I know about him. And from what I’ve heard..." My eyes drifted over to Ivory. "...those antics sound about right. There’s just one thing that bothers me.”

“What?” Blaze continued to watch her hoof.

“As far as I know, the legend can’t possibly be much older than him. How did he get the elder folk onboard?”

Blaze gave me a confused look.

It was my turn to ask “What?”

“The legend ties itself to an older one. About a sorcerer.” Ivory stared at the wall.

I wracked my brain, but I could not recall a legend within a legend and I was certain I hadn’t missed anything on the page. “Then the version I read, it must not be complete. Would you tell me the full story?”

Blaze spoke quickly, but steadily, the words leaving her lips with an unthinking familiarity. “There was once a sorcerer whose desire for immortality overrode all else. He worked tirelessly, committing endless atrocities along the way. Finally, he turned to necromancy, seeking to join the ranks of the legendary liches. Though he was no longer mortal, the spell was imperfect; his body could not hold against the strain of such powerful magic. Little by little, he deteriorated, until he was nearly a crippled husk. In desperation, he transferred his power and mind to a corpse. Even though his new body was destined to suffer the same fate, at long last, he had found his immortality. All he needed was more bodies. Thus, the sorcerer became the Necromancer. A fearsome defiler of the dead, the Necromancer knows no boundaries. Those foolish enough to wander the roads at night have vanished, only to turn up later as part of the Necromancer’s restless army.”

I frowned, wondering just how this longer version had eluded me. Especially when most of my research had been done in Canterlot, home of the largest library in Equestria. My frown deepened. Then, when I was nearly chewing on my scarf, Earnest Care’s words came surging back to me. I realized that if the mayor had lost credibility with the guard, that could easily cascade to other organizations. And if nopony cared, none of the records were guaranteed to be reliable.

Turning to Blaze, I asked, “And everyone believes it?”

“Just about.” She spoke the words slowly, squirming with each syllable.

“So he can say the sorcerer has taken over anyone he wants to discredit?”

Ivory’s eyes were distant again, nodding as she spoke, “I still remember what he said, the day he quashed all doubt of my guilt: ‘You may wear the face of that filly, but you will never be anything more than a monster, Necromancer!”

A heavy silence fell over the room. We weren’t exactly in the best of positions, but I did have one last ace to play. “What if I had something that might tie him to the bandits who’ve been playing the legend for their own gain?”

A tiny spark of hope lit up Ivory’s face. “It would explain much. What is it?”

I trotted over to my flight satchel and retrieved the bandit’s scroll. “Secret correspondence. There’s not a whole lot to it, but it’s pretty incriminating and clearly hoof- or mouth-written. If we could match it to the mayor’s, we could bring this whole thing crashing down on him.”

Ivory slid up beside me and peered over my shoulder as I unfurled the letter. She squinted, eyes flying over the words again and again.

Blaze wasn’t far behind. “Can I see?”

The table was getting a little crowded, so I stepped aside, allowing her to squeeze in between me and Ivory.

Not ten seconds passed before Blaze blurted out, “It’s his!”

I raised an eyebrow. “What? How can you be so sure?”

A sheepish look spread across her face. “There’s an old wanted poster in the town hall, written by the mayor, himself. I’ve... read it every day for years. If only I’d known it had such an ugly truth behind it.”

“Hey.” I gave her a short, reassuring nudge. “At least it’s helping you do good now. We just need to find an official analyst to back up our claims. Although, I have a feeling it might be tough to find one way out here.”

“My dad could help!” Blaze practically yelled as soon as I’d finished talking.

I tilted my head. “How?”

“He has lots of friends in Iron Shoe. Somepony has to be one. Or at least know one.”

Though the logic wasn’t very sound, I could at least appreciate her enthusiasm. And to be fair, connections aren’t exactly a trivial asset. “Well, not necessarily, but it’s a start, anyway. So let’s hope for the best. We should leave immediately.”

“Wait,” Ivory interjected. “The stallion, was he telling the truth?”

A half-second of confusion quickly cascaded into realization: we still had a prisoner. “Aside from a few omitted details, everything was accurate.”

“You go ahead then. I’ll see him to safety.” Ivory turned to the door.

“Are you sure? We can come along.”

“No, it’s too important to put off. Besides, I… I shouldn’t be seen in Pasture.”

“Who are we talking about?” Blaze asked.

“Oh… um...” I bit my lip. “We interrogated a bandit in order to get your location.”

“And you’re just going to let a bandit go? He’s a criminal, isn’t he?” The guardsmare within had resurfaced, bringing that old zealous fire back to her voice.

“I promised to let him go if he told the truth. He kept his word and so will I. Besides, he’s young, practically a colt. If you were in his shoes, wouldn’t you want another chance?” I looked her straight in the eye.

Blaze frowned. “I would, but this is different.”

“Is it?” I tilted my head. “He’s not some manifestation of evil, he’s a pony. A cooperative pony, at that and he just wants to live his life.”

“Yeah, but can’t we do something else? How do we know he won’t rejoin the bandits?”

“We don’t.” Ivory cut in. “But we didn’t know if we could trust you, either.”

“I…”

I cocked my head. “So what do you propose?”

“Jail?”

“The closest is Pasture’s and if the mayor is in cahoots with the bandits, he’ll know something is up.” I tapped my hoof. “Leaving him here while we run off to another city would also be a bad idea. And I don’t know about you, but lugging a prisoner all the way to Iron Shoe wouldn’t be particularly pleasant, nor within our time frame.”

“What about…?” Blaze trailed off, her jaw working, but words failed to come out.

“Killing?” I raised an eyebrow.

Blaze froze, the seconds dragging out before she finally shook her head. “No… I… nevermind.”

16 - Purpose

I knew the gate was going to be a problem, enough that I considered looking for a place to climb over the fence. But the shoddy construction meant there was a high chance of somepony spotting us. Even if no one made a commotion, I had no way of telling who might have been working with the bandits. And even if they hadn’t received word of the raid, drawing attention to ourselves was liable to negate that advantage and more.

No, we needed to keep our heads on straight and act as naturally as possible. While I was almost certain that one of Blaze’s guard buddies would see us and make a big deal out of how long she'd been missing, I still had a feeling that it would be the least-conspicuous choice. Unfortunately, I hadn’t expected to see Earnest Care coming up the path. And that was only the first of the surprises.

He wore plate barding, much like the kind the Guard uses, but made from a dull, grey steel instead of the Guard-issue enchanted gold. A weather-beaten saddlebag and what appeared to be a newly-sharpened hatchet hung off his back.

But though his kit did much to shatter my image of the friendly old innkeeper stuck behind a desk, what truly surprised me was the ease with which he wore it. He marched forward as though he had carried that gear a hundred times. Part of me suspected that he really had.

He was barely past the wall when he saw us and froze. My mind tore through scenarios, pitching them out like scraps of parchment, as it scrambled to find a way to downplay the inevitable commotion. Annoyingly enough, the only idea that stuck was ‘roll with it’.

Time was up, anyway, as both Blaze and Earnest galloped straight up to each other and embraced. At first, neither said a word, but the fervour of their nuzzles got the message across just fine.

Tears glinted in the afternoon sun as they trickled out from under Earnest’s forelock. “Blaze!”

“Dad…” Blaze croaked.

Earnest’s face turned stern. “Where have you been?! We were worried sick!”

“I’m sorry! I found these mercenaries, but then they were bad guys… and… and I was kidnapped and there was this evil mage!” Blaze said all at once, slowed only by bouts of sniffles.

“Shhhh.” Earnest glanced up and across the gathering onlookers before meeting my gaze.

I gave him a quick nod, which was met with him making a nearly-imperceptible motion over his shoulder.

He let out a sigh and when he spoke again, the anger had been vented from his voice, leaving only caution. “Everything will be all right. Let’s go inside and talk about this some more.”

Their movement was plodding. Understandable, but that did little for my nerves, as it made them something of a parade. If the mayor had agents in the crowd at all, there was no avoiding them now.

While the crowd’s expression generally consisted of sympathy, they moved on to a mix of suspicion and confusion when they saw me. I kept my distance—and an eye out for weapons. It was almost like evading the shadows of the bandit base all over again. And once we were safe within the walls of the inn, the feeling of relief was no-less intense.

Earnest continued past the desk and into one of the back rooms. I hesitated in the hall, but my brain kindly reminded me that we needed this help. They’d understand.

“Trail Blazer, you’re in so much trouble, young mare!” Silver Platter yelled, the sternness in her voice faltering almost immediately.

I walked into the room just in time to catch her hobbling the last half of the distance around a paper-cluttered desk.

“I’m sorry, mom!”

The three met in the centre of the room, embracing, crying, but not saying a single word.

I shuffled my hooves and took a few steps back, wondering if I should have given them a few moments. I let my gaze drift through the rest of the room, over the mostly-bare walls, to the desk. Behind the desk, and its endless paper bounty, was a trio of binder-stuffed shelves. Between them all, there must have been years worth of records. In the very least, the accounting was way more meticulous than I had initially given it credit for.

When my eyes ran out of room to explore, I decided that perhaps it was time for me to wait in the hall.

“Wait!” Earnest called, just before I reached the door. When I paused, he trotted over to me.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t you want some time?”

“It’s quite clear something very serious is going on. I need to make sure this safety will last.”

“We need somepony from Iron Shoe to match some writing!” Blaze blurted out.

I sighed. At least she knew how to get to the point, context be damned.

Earnest frowned. “What? Why?”

“The mayor is up to something fishy and we have a letter to prove it!” Blaze motioned vigourously between the two of us.

Earnest stood stockstill for a good three seconds. When he opened his mouth, he spoke very carefully. “Blaze, I want you to listen. You have to forget about that letter. Forget about the mayor and whatever it is you think you know.”

“What, why? What kind of guard lets this slide?” Blaze puffed out her chest.

“I’m retired.”

I couldn’t believe it’d taken me so long to notice, but now that I was closer to Earnest, I realized his armour wasn’t made of steel. That dull grey was a layer of paint, expertly laid. From there, everything began to fall into place. If he was a guard, that paint was meant to mask the armour’s enchanted gold. He was an ex-guard with something to hide and as my first night, and his hesitation, returned to me, I was left with only one line of questioning: Why? What did the mayor do?

There was only one way for me to find out. “Earnest. Can we talk in the hall for a moment? About your career... and timberwolves?”

I watched Earnest very carefully. He turned to look at me, but did nothing else. To be fair, I had just dropped a bit of a bomb on him. I could only hope the mayor’s hold wasn’t strong enough to make him clam up.

“Hey, no fair! I’m a part of this too!” Blaze yelled.

His face was contorted, torn between his secrets and his daughter.

Finally, he let out a sigh and spoke, “Close the door.”

I obliged and rejoined the others.

“Earnest…” Silver Platter gave her husband a concerned look.

He shook his head and pressed his muzzle against her cheek. “It needs to be said.”

He turned to Blaze, pausing for several long seconds. A paranoid part of me wondered if he’d changed his mind, but my fear was quickly put to rest.

“A long time ago, when I was on patrol, I was ambushed and wounded by timberwolves. They would have taken my life too if the Necromancer hadn’t stepped in. She took me in and tended to me while I healed. Once I was better, she sent me on my way.”

Blaze took a step back like she’d just been slapped. “You… you knew she wasn’t a bad mare?!”

“Yes.” Earnest looked away.

Blaze strode forward, pain and indignity in her eyes. “Why?! Why didn’t you say anything?! You could have stopped the mayor! You could have cleared Ivory’s name! Do you know how many ponies want her dead?!”

I really couldn’t blame Blaze, as the same thoughts were coursing through my mind.

“So you’ve met her,” he said grimly.

“She saved your daughter’s life from bandits. Twice.” I pointedly tapped the floor.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why are you protecting him?!” Blaze stomped her hooves and gave him a hard stare. It was a look much like their previous fight, but also different. There wasn’t just anger and stubbornness; I saw pain, confusion, betrayal.

“It’s not that simple! I did what was necessary to protect you!” Earnest and Silver’s gazes drifted to Silver’s crippled leg. There was no uncertainty in my mind; they may as well have just come out and said it.

I felt my anger slipping away, leaving only dread and sorrow in its wake. He had had no choice, only dilemma.

Blaze stared at her mom. “Oh. My. Celestia! You knew too?! He did it, didn’t he? And you just let him do what he wanted while you hid, like a bunch of cowards!”

“Blaze…” Silver stepped forward to press her cheek against Blaze’s neck.

“Don’t touch me!” Blaze yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clamoured away.”I can’t believe you two! It’s like I don’t know you anymore!”

Then, with a speed I didn’t even know she had in her, Blaze bolted for the door, flinging it open and disappearing into the hall.

“Blaze, wait!” Earnest reacted next, charging right after her. I was only a split-second behind.

Though Blaze’s head start worked heavily against us, Earnest seemed to already know where we were going. He led me out the back exit and across a small field. From there the terrain became uneven, with a scattering of bushes anchored in wherever they could manage.

What was most troubling was the size of the bushes. Low and squat, they hardly had the proper profile to hide a grown mare. And with no trees in sight, the bushes could only give way to more field. Despair crept in as I wondered if we had somehow gone astray.

That was when Earnest hopped over a surprisingly steep ridge and stopped. I followed suit and any questions I had evaporated when I followed his eyes to the slope.

Battered, yet stubborn brushes dotted the side, coating the dirt with sun-singed green. And hidden among the densest of these clusters was the mouth of a small cave. Rough-cut planks stood guard, barricading all entry.

“Blaze?” Earnest called.

“Go away!” Blaze’s yell was barely audible through her makeshift door. “I don’t want to hear anymore lies!”

I glanced at Earnest. “Would you mind if I gave it a try? She might be more receptive to a third party.”

He worked his jaw, but quickly decided against whatever he was going to say. With a sigh, he bowed his head. “Go ahead.”

Trotting up to the barricade, I rapped on it with my hoof. “Blaze, it’s me, Dusky. Do you want to talk?”

“Is it just you?”

I glanced back at Earnest, who took the cue to give us more space.

“Yeah, just me.”

The planks glowed, clawing against the ground as they pulled back just far enough for me to slip through. No sooner was I inside when it was pushed back into place. A couple small boulders rolled up behind it, reinforcing its position.

A single magic lantern sat on a crate in the middle of the cave, its woefully inadequate light barely able to reveal the central area. The rest of the darkness was threatened only by a token dimness.

Several open crates surrounded the lamp, rolled-up scrolls, scraps of barding and the a few shoddily-constructed weapons poking out of the tops.

Even after my eyes had time to adjust, it took me a few moments to find Blaze. Her silhouette was tucked up in a far corner and best I could tell, she had one of those crooked spears planted into the ground in front of her.

“Blaze?” I took a cautious step forward. “How are you feeling?”

The spear lifted into the air and I froze. It stayed suspended in front of Blaze’s muzzle, as though there was something profound etched into the shaft.

“He could have stopped me, Dusky! I… this was my life! It was supposed to be the thing that would avenge my mom and save the town! And I…” Her voice fell to a whisper. “... I was lied to. He knew and he never said a damned word!”

I trotted the rest of the distance and settled down beside her. Sometimes simply listening is the best solution.

She tossed the spear away and it skipped a couple times across the rocky ground. “All this hate… and I spread it! By Celestia, I brought the militia together and we… we said horrible things. How we’d kill her, how we’d be heroes. And now… just knowing how wrong we were… it makes me sick…”

I could, of course, understand her anger. The revelation that she had planned the murder of an innocent would be nothing short of harsh; the feeling could only be compounded by the fact that she had always been one talk away from setting things straight.

And yet, I knew she was missing a perspective on this whole ordeal. I understood all too well the penalties for unchecked zeal, the kind that Earnest surely feared. Perhaps it was time I opened up a bit more to Blaze.

“Can I tell you a story?”

“What?” Blaze turned to look at me.

“I promise you it has a point.”

“Uh, sure, I guess.”

“There was once a young mare who traveled from town to town, aiming to see the sights of the world. On one particular journey, she ended up in the big, bustling city. Though she was entranced by its beauty, secretly, she had another motive: to find adventure, just like Daring Do.”

Blaze tilted her head.

I took a deep breath, forcing the images from my mind as they returned. “And the mare found something. Something she wasn’t supposed to. Something that a group of bad ponies wanted to remain secret. Deep down, she knew she shouldn’t touch it, but she was lost in the excitement, in the thrill of its discovery. So she stepped forward, giving it to the Guard and volunteering to be a witness.”

“Then what?”

“She was found out and they decided to get rid of her. The Guard tried its best to protect her and though it succeeded and was able to obtain a warrant, the ambush was well-coordinated. More than eight guards died to bring down that one warehouse. And in the end, it was just the tip of the iceberg. All that loss, and for what?”

“I…”

“Courage and cowardice are not black and white terms. Your dad knows that these things come with a cost and he’s just trying to do what he thinks is right. Same as you.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

I waited until Blaze looked up again. “Do you see now why I’m a traveler and not an adventurer?”

She nodded.

“So what do you say?” I stood and offered her a hoof. “Shall we talk this out and get this situation taken care of?”

She stared at my hoof, though her hesitation was short-lived. “Okay.”

The trek back to the office was awkward, silent and possibly even worse than them fighting. This stretched on after our arrival and I started to suspect I’d have to play mediator.

Thankfully, Blaze took the first step. “What happened? What did he do?”

“The mayor, or at least the current one, didn’t have to do much. His father was always doting on him and I imagine it didn’t take much to convince Peaceful State that Ivory was a menace and a threat.”

“The legend,” Blaze whispered.

Earnest nodded. “Among other things, I’m sure. When I went to him with my findings, State would brook no challenge to his image of a perfect son. I sent word to the rest of the Guard, but there was never a reply. And then one night…”

His gaze drifted over to Silver Platter’s leg. When several moments passed, she continued for him. “I was walking home from the market when an unhitched cart came out of nowhere. I could barely get out of the way in time and when the dust cleared, nopony would take responsibility.”

“Nopony at the scene of the ‘accident’, anyway,” Earnest added. “I found an anonymous note on my desk that same day. It demanded that I stop pursuing anything having to do with the Necromancer, or the next cart wouldn’t be so off-target.”

Blaze leaned over and nuzzled up against her mother’s neck. In spite of the situation, I couldn’t help but smile.

“So I did what I had to.” Earnest stared at the wall. “I kept my head low and my family safe.”

Blazed trotted over and stood right in front of him. “Dad, I…I know you mean well, but she’s helped us so much. Is it really right to leave her hanging?”

With a sigh, Earnest turned his attention back to me. “Let me see the letter.”

I slipped the letter from my flight satchel and watched him carefully, worried that he might have second thoughts.

He studied the page several times without any change in expression before returning it to me. “Where did you find this?”

“The bandit hideout.” I tried to keep my voice level as the worry closed in around my chest.

“The what?!” Earnest and SIlver exclaimed.

“The bandit hideout,” Blaze answered, a slight waver in each of her words. “The bandits, they… they took me away and... Dusky and Ivory, they rescued me.”

Earnest bowed his head, letting out a long exhalation. I felt like the air was gathering around me, pressing in against my worry, leaving me breathless. This was it, the answer to the big question: did Blaze’s speech compel him to act or scare him away?

When he finally looked up and opened his mouth, I felt like I was going to burst. “If you can get me a sample of his writing, I might have someone who could take a look at it.”

Then all the weight was gone, whisked away like air escaping a balloon.

“Great! Let’s get that poster!” Blaze perked up.

“No, Blaze. You’re staying here.” He turned to me. “I’m sorry, but this is as much as I can give. If he holds this much power, we can’t risk acting openly against him.”

Perhaps I counted my chickens too soon. Well, it’s better than nothing… I bit my lip and nodded. “I understand. I’ll get the poster.”

“But—” Blaze frowned.

“It’s okay, Blaze. The risk really is too great for you. At least if it’s just me and something goes sour, I can just leave town.” I knew my words could hardly be considered comforting, but if I could absolve even a little of her guilt, it was worth it.

Blaze slumped, wearing a grimace like she was sitting on a pincushion, but made no further protestations.

I turned to the door and took a deep breath. With luck, the mayor would still be in the dark.

17 - The Lion's Den

I snuck out the back exit of Sunny Skies, the half-trails helping me avoid the spy-haven that was the town square. For the most part, anyway. While the rear of the town hall had a similar door, I resisted the urge to try it. Blaze had been kind enough to tell me that the wanted poster was kept in the reception area.

While I had no way of knowing which of the day staff was in on the mayor’s plot, I couldn’t risk escalation just yet. I hoped to convince them that I was on their side just long enough to make off with the poster. If that didn’t work, then I’d risk setting the whole town upon me by breaking in.

Despite the wide-open steps and porch, the distance from the alley to the door was short enough that the loitering groups of gossipers hardly turned my way. Eager to be off the street, I pushed my way through the heavy wooden doors, and into the lion’s den.

Though said den was rather lacking in blood, darkness or half-eaten victims. Instead, uniform light washed down from the lanterns above, reflecting off the immaculately clean walls and floor. Just a hint of old wood touched my nostrils, refusing to be completely buried beneath the blanket of cleaner. I wrinkled my nose: the eau de office was strong here.

The room was long and rectangular with the stairs and the receptionist desk near the back. As best I could tell, the only other doors were to the left and right, just before reception. At least one of them had to lead to the rear entrance, but there was no way for me to tell. Ideally, I wouldn't have to guess at all.

On my side of the hall were several small, empty display cases ringing a comparatively huge one. In the very centre of the display was a replica of the town, though the houses were noticeably skewed toward unslantededness. There also seemed to be more of the dwellings, with a proper wooden wall around them. A grand road left the town, making its way across the plains, the hills and becoming a massive quarry that bit into the mountains.

Futures plans, no doubt, and if the inn was any indication, ones that had been anticipated for a while. With my theory confirmed, I was left wondering why he hadn’t tried to tap into those resources just yet. Is he really so consumed by his vendetta that he needs to be rid of Ivory first? Or is it that he’s afraid she would retaliate against his mining operation?

The back of my mind reached forward and bapped me. Speculation, especially on information like this, was fine, but I had a mission upon which our entire case hinged. It was focus time. My eyes drifted to the right of the room, where a large oval corkboard hung.

And there, pinned upon the board, was the wanted poster—and my prize. All I had to do was persuade the receptionist.

I peered over the large wooden desk at a wide, red-coated pegasus. Something resembling familiarity stirred in the back of my mind. The faint smell of alcohol slipped up into my brain and drew a bowler’s hat atop his head.

Oh, shit. Cedar.

I approached the desk, already certain that this would be an uphill battle. I hoped that he had been too drunk to remember me. Or, as I spotted the tip of a silver flask poking out from under what I was certain was a romance novel, that he was too drunk now.

Cedar busied himself with a small stack of papers and didn’t even look up. “The mayor is full up this morning. If you wanted to see him, you should have made your appointment yesterday.”

“Actually, I’m not here for that.”

“Then what—” He looked up. “Oh, you.”

Crap. I tried to put on my friendliest face. “Hi? Oh, I recognize you. Cedar, right?”

“Oh, good. Remember ditching me too?” He gave me a hard stare.

I grimaced, though it was easy enough to shift it to embrassment. “Yeah, um… sorry about that. The cider kinda didn’t agree with me. I had to drag myself back to my room from the outhouse.”

Cedar’s expression softened, though it was gone as quickly as it came. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”

My eyes flicked over to his flask. “Um, since we’re talking about alcohol, I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

He snorted. “Right. What do you want, anyway?”

The situation was far from optimal, but at least it allowed me to turn on the charm. “The wanted poster. I’m gathering some… interested individuals, but I need an official document before they’ll even come here.”

Cedar eyed me up and down. “That one is for the office only. I can issue a copy that will be just as official.”

“Signed by the mayor?” I broadened my smile.

“No.”

“But—”

“Mine will be good enough.” He grit his teeth as his hoof crept toward the flask, but pulled away when he noticed where I was looking.

“They won’t believe it unless it’s signed by him,” I pleaded.

“Too bad.” Cedar pointedly returned to his papers.

Asshole. Not that I could really blame him for holding his grudge. And I wasn’t exactly at liberty to tell him the true stakes of the matter.

The door creaked and we both turned toward the entrance. My heart seized. It was Blaze.

“Excuse me a second,” I mumbled as I trotted away.

Blaze shrunk a little, looking like a filly caught with her hoof in the cookie jar, as I closed in on her. I leaned in and whispered, “What are you doing here? Were you even listening?”

She held her ground, looking me in the eye. “I was, I was, but I… I have to do something to make this right. She risked herself three times while we haven’t so much as moved a muscle. I have to do this.”

I frowned, finding myself reluctant to argue. Not only was Cedar uncomfortably close, but in my heart, I knew Blaze was right; the problem, as always, was where to draw the line between heart and brain. I sighed. “Okay, okay, just get back outside, stay out of sight and watch for trouble.”

“Thank you!” Blaze let herself slip just above a whisper, though she might as well have been yelling for as much as it echoed. She leaned in and gave me a quick hug before trotting away.

I blinked. That she could still have such glee in the face of danger was a bit worrying.

Returning to Cedar, I prepared to try one last time. Although, chances of him changing his decision were pretty slim. I was already contemplating just grabbing the poster and running.

“It’s for her, isn’t it?” he asked, his gaze firmly on the closed door.

“Eh?” I wasn’t entirely sure what that look was about, but I decided I should play along, slipping some shyness into my tone. “How did you know?”

“She’s always in here staring at it. Sometimes, she even brings her friends, but I’ve never seen her treat any of them that way.” Cedar’s eyes flitted down to his novel.

Oh… he thinks we’re like that. I let a smile creep up my lips. The field was suddenly level again. “Does it really matter if you won’t give it to me?”

“Fifty bits.” Cedar stared at me, though his gaze wavered every so often.

“What? That’s… a lot.” I wasn’t quite sure if he was being an opportunist or just didn’t understand how rich an amount that was.

“It’s as cheap as I can go. If I write up a bill of sale for it, he’ll understand it was too much to resist.”

“Fine.” I dug out the bits, frowning when I saw that it only left me with a couple coins to my name. But there was no helping it, I’d just have to figure something out later.

Cedar stacked the bits, expertly counting them as he went. When he was finished, he gave a nod. “Grab it quick, before anypony else sees.”

I obliged, taking care not to damage the poster as I worked. I had barely finished up when I heard the door creak open again. I glanced up, hoping it wasn’t Blaze drawing more unwanted attention. When that brown-flecked bandit griffon strode through the door, I wished it really had just been Blaze.

The bandit leader was flanked by a more-traditional gold and white griffon, a sandy pegasus and a pair of blue and orange earth ponies. Though I hadn’t gotten a good look at them, I was reasonably certain I’d seen the griffon and pegasus bodyguards during the escape. In any event, I couldn’t risk letting them see me.

My eyes darted around, looking for a place to hide. All the displays were so close to the bandits that I’d almost assuredly be spotted. It was then that I remembered the stairs at the back of the room. Without hesitation, I power walked over, doing my best to look calm and inconspicuous. With luck, I’d be too far away to be identifiable.

“You!” The lead griffon called out and I cringed, but kept walking. “Reception guy! I’m seeing the mayor. Now.”

My heart rebounded back into my chest as I let out a sigh of relief. I scurried to the top of the first set of stairs, where they turned into a mid-level before doubling back in a U-shape. I stepped just out of sight of the first floor, keeping an ear turned toward it. I started hastily rolling up the poster, cursing my forehooves with each little slip. Glancing up at the top of the stairs, I hoped the rest of the staff would at least have the courtesy to let me finish.

“But Gaelle—” There was a beat where I was certain Cedar was cowering beneath some kind of brain-melting stare. “M-miss Gaelle, I… that is t-the mayor, he… he’s um… busy—”

“I said now!” Gaelle screeched.

“R-right, I’ll let him know.”

“Let me help you,” Gaelle said, her voice practically waving him off as the clack of talons on wood filled the air.

Shoving the poster as far into my flight satchel as I could—a paltry two-thirds of the way—I scrambled up the stairs. I needed to get somewhere, anywhere and hide just long enough to slip by behind them. But aside from a few tiny potted plants and the odd landscape painting, the immediate hallways were pretty much bare. And the railing’s thin wooden beams would do little to conceal me.

I could no longer hear what they were saying, just the growing volume as they ascended the staircase. Spinning around, I scanned behind the stairs. There were two doors: one with an etched nameplate that read ‘Prideful Policy, Mayor’ and the other without a label at all.

With no choice but to gamble, I darted over to the unmarked door and pushed my way inside, resisting the urge to slam it shut behind me.

The room appeared to be a closet of some sort, though I couldn't be entirely sure in the darkness. I slipped into the back corner, careful not to disturb the silhouettes of bottles and boxes. Though they were small, they were numerous enough that they might still shield me from anyone who might peek in.

“Thought… was busy…” A stallion’s voice touched my ear through the wall. A wall that must have bordered the mayor’s office. Seeing an opportunity, I shoved my ear up against it.

“Sorry… insisted…” Cedar was barely audible, even with me listening as closely as I was.

“Fine, fine… Out, all of you.” The other stallion, who was presumably Prideful Policy, said. The wall shuddered as a door slammed shut.

“Better not… ...ing with me.” Gaelle’s impatience practically slipped through the gaps in the wall.

“Quite… opening accusation.” Prideful’s tone remained level.

“You said she had no friends.”

“... doesn’t.”

“Then why did my people see a pegasus, who sure as shit wasn't a zombie, leaving our hideout with a zombie and our mark?! You trying to have your people play hero so you can blame us and cut us out of the deal?!” Gaelle screeched. I suspected this was no longer a private conversation.

“Now, now… no need… blame is the Necromancer’s. Still have forty… and contract.”

“You said forty-nine!”

“And you… could handle… job easily.”

“And you assured us she had no allies!”

“Fine, forty-nine, provided… right… time.”

The door swung open and light flooded over me. I swung round, ready to charge the bandits, but confusion stayed my hoof. Standing in the doorway, in a butler’s neck and tie, was the other drunkard, Mocha.

He mirrored my surprise, but spoke before I could plead for quiet. “Hey, you’re not allowed in here!”

Shit.

18 - The Lioness

The clattering of talons raking across the floor intermingled with Gaelle spouting several variations of “What the Tartarus?!” sent a chill speeding down my spine.

“Appears… … problem,” was Prideful Policy’s reply, his tone carrying an icy calm that made my hairs stand on end.

The crash of a door swinging into the wall was accompanied by Gaelle’s voice escalating into an irritated screech. “Why are you still standing around?! Go check it out!”

Her words hit me like a bundle of needles to the hindquarters, setting my hooves in motion. I needed to get out and I needed to do it now. Various bottles and other supplies scattered every which way as I plowed through them.

Despite the noise, Mocha seemed to be too busy shouting over his shoulder to notice me. “Cedar! What did I tell you about the next time I find a mare in my clos—!”

I slammed into him at full speed, the door frame groaning as he crashed into it. Though I careened off in the opposite direction, a few unsteady steps allowed me to restore my balance.

The pegasus and griffon bandits, who were to my immediate right, were left behind as I blasted past. My eyes darted around the balcony, trying to formulate a plan better than ‘get away from them’. And even then, I wasn’t doing a very good job.

I was headed for the far end of the left balcony, which happened to be straight toward the orange earth pony bandit. On the upside, she was only half-turned to face me by the time I’d closed the gap. She lashed out with an awkward, highly telegraphed heatbutt.

Easily ducking the attack, I planted myself low, then sprung up, throwing all my weight against the bandit’s side. She stumbled back, but I knew that would do little to stop an earth pony. Swinging around, I lashed out with my hind legs. Both hooves found home, the sickening chorus of cracking bone and straining wood filling the air.

Satisfied that she would be unable to follow, I pushed off, hoping I hadn’t given the rest of my opponents too much time to catch up. Barely had I finished the thought when, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the pegasus bandit across the gap. She was already running parallel to me on the other balcony, no doubt aiming to cut me off at the end where the two joined.

I stole a glance over the railing. The empty space around the displays seemed so inviting. It would be so simple to hop down and reach the front door. But it was the most likely place to be guarded and I could no longer trust the route to be safe. Not to mention the blue earth pony disembarking the stairs ensured that the side doors would be a serious risk. I was both impressed and annoyed by his foresight.

In such a spur-of-the-moment defense, my best bet was the door at the end of the hall. It was more or less one of the full pane windows with a large handle attached. But at that moment, with the afternoon sun filtering through, giving the door a sort of orangey halo, it was my salvation.

There was no time to check for a lock and even if there was, my response would have been a firm buck, anyway. So I skipped right to the end. The glass was surprisingly sturdy and unwilling to break. The handle, on the other hoof, was too happy to tear loose from the beam.

I squinted as I charged out into the light—and freedom. Or so I thought until the griffon plowed into me.

We tumbled across the plank floor as a tangle of claws, hooves and paws. While the air and floor suffered the brunt of our wild swinging, the griffon did catch me once. Two talons grated across my chest, clawing awkwardly enough to do little more than scratch, while my forehoof glanced off the side of his neck.

Our scuffle could have easily carried on for several more feet, but the balcony railing had other plans. I found it first, gasping at the blurry sky as my barrel slammed into the vertical beams. The griffon didn’t do any better, being far too concerned with trying to claw my face to notice that his was about to meet solid wood. With a crack, his head rebounded off the railing, looking for all the world like he was going to collapse.

No. Forget about falling this way. I lashed out with my hind legs and the griffon wheezed, twisting as he straightened up; he was caught in that awkward place between trying to double over and momentum.

I wound up and struck again, pushing him as far away from me as I could. His stomach collapsed as he was thrown into the air, bouncing off of and over the railing. A dull thud, followed by several confused yells, wafted up to me.

Finally having a moment to breathe, I shook off my own daze and scrambled to my hooves. Sliding up to the railing, I stayed low, sticking my head out just enough to get an eye on the griffon. He laid in a twisted heap, though there was no blood, a good sign for him.

Several onlookers had around gathered around the bandit, with a few stragglers drifting in here and there.

So much for doing this quietly.

The villagers presented something of a strange mix of advantage and disadvantage. Flying away was almost certain to alert everypony and set the militia upon me. But if I could sneak down, perhaps I could blend into the crowd and slink away. I reached a wing back to make sure the poster was still coming with me… and touched thin air.

Where did I lose it?! My heart seized, though the clacking of talons behind me set it into overdrive. I whirled just in time to see Gaelle snatch the scroll off the floor.

“Looking for this?” She sneered.

“Maybe I am.” I watched her carefully, my mind whispering just how dire the situation had suddenly become.

After a short silence, her face twisted into annoyance. “What? Afraid to be a pain in the ass when my back isn’t turned?”

I couldn’t tell if she was buying time or simply a bit unhinged. Perhaps both, but I wasn’t in the mood for either. “You going to talk all day?”

“It’s just… polite to chitchat a bit before bending people to my will.” She raised a talon to the poster, tracing a line across it. “Now be a good little pony and come over here.”

“What if I told you I don’t care?”

“I’d call you a liar.”

It was a longshot, but it was all I had. There was no bluffing or tricking her and a fight would be unreasonably risky. The gambit was over and all I could do was save myself. I edged back until I felt my hind hooves touch the railing. From there, I skirted away from where the other bandit had fallen. I still had one advantage, minimal as it might be: giving chase with a scroll in one claw would be more than a little awkward.

“Scared?”

“Nah, just smart.” I turned and leapt off the side, spreading my wings just a bit to break my fall.

I landed to find the crowd had backed up, leaving room for me and, much to my dismay, the remaining pegasus and earth pony bandits. Even though both still had to close the distance, I was left with a griffon above me and a crowd boxing me in.

Gaelle’s head appeared over the railing. “Going so soon, thief?”

“You’re the one with the stolen goods, bandit,” I shot back.

A glitter of light caught my eye, pulling it to a crooked spear, as it floated over from behind the pegasus bandit and pressed up against her neck.

“Stand down. This is over,” Blaze called out from the crowd.

Gaelle simply grinned the grin of a bird of prey. “Yes, give yourself over to me.”

Oh, boy. Here comes the mess. With Blaze putting herself on the line, there was no turning back. We all stood tense, waiting for the others to move.

The pegasus bandit raised a hoof, but to my surprise, Blaze was quicker, the shaft of her spear cracking the bandit in the muzzle. The weapon spun around, sweeping out her forelegs before coming to a rest against the back of her neck.

“I said stand down!”

I had only a moment to shake away my astonishment as the earth pony charged in. Air whooshed through my coat as I narrowly sidestepped his hybrid of a headbutt and shoulder barge. I tossed my head as he continued past, smashing my forehead into the tender part of his barrel.

The earth pony bandit let out a gasp, slowing to a half-stagger as he turned for what would have been another pass. Seizing the opportunity, I pivoted and bucked. My right hoof dug in about where his neck would be. He let out a choking sound as I turned to face him.

With bulging muscles, the earth pony lunged, swinging wildly. I ducked under his forehoof, but a bit of his chest still managed to glance off my face and the world blurred. The bandit’s stumbling blow returned to the ground and I could of sworn I felt it shake.

Regardless, he had left himself open again and, blurriness or not, I decided to follow up with another head toss. There was a crack as the bandit’s jaw snapped shut and with a pained gurgle, the earth pony crumpled into a dazed heap.

There was only the barest of moments before Gaelle was upon me, a flash out of the corner of my eye. I leapt away, though I wasn’t quite fast enough, her talons grazing the surface of my cheek. I winced as beads of blood leaked out, gluing tufts of my coat together.

She came at me on two legs and even though her stance was less-than-graceful, her claws were a series of indistinguishable streaks in the air. I took a quick hop backward, knowing that such a strategy would have a hard time keeping up.

But I couldn’t dodge all day and who knows when more goons might show up. I needed some way to get past those talons, but there was no time to draw my wingblade. My eyes flitted around, looking—hoping—for some kind of opening, as I continued to back up. After another dozen or so swipes, I caught a glimpse of how she was moving her claws.

Stepping forward, I raised my wing, keeping it closed, but positioning to catch the crook of her arm. She stumbled, eyes going wide as her momentum carried her off-balance.

I ducked my head, winding up. With a twist, I shoved the talon aside and threw my head forward, slamming it straight into Gaelle’s gut. She let out a squawk as she rolled across the ground. But she didn’t stay there for long.

Fire filled her eyes and she was up, screeching through her limp as she charged me. I ducked under her beak, but there was little time for a counterattack. While staying on all fours kept the claws from coming out too fast, she was adding her own wing-strikes to the mix.

I kept my distance, circling and parrying only when I needed to. I knew the storm could not last forever. Inch-by-inch, she slowed and once it became visibly apparent, I made my move. Funny thing about griffon claws: they’re a lot easier to stomp on than hooves.

My forehoof came down hard with a sickening crack, though Gaelle’s agonized screech quickly overtook it. Our wings met and deflected off each other as I pummeled her neck with more headbutts. Finally, a talon caught my wing, making a small, clean slice across the muscle.

I made a hasty retreat, focusing entirely on guarding myself. But Gaelle didn’t seem to be feeling particularly bold, either, instead choosing to back up and nurse her own wounds. If nothing else, our little staredown allowed me to draw my blade and attached it to my wing.

As though on cue, we both charged again, leaping toward each other for the final strike. I got my wing above hers and held her against me as I came down with all my weight. She bounced once as she hit the ground, then skidded a short distance further, sending up a small film of dust.

I brought my blade down toward her neck, the move that would end it one way or another.

But the strike never even got close. A flash of purple light flooded my eyes and I felt myself being thrown back, an intense fire burning across my body wherever it hadn’t become numb. I tumbled head-over-hooves about three times before I could right myself.

As I spun to face Gaelle, my mind ground to a halt. A sickly green light filled her eyes while energy danced across her back like purple flames. They were somehow simultaneously intense and ominous, leaving her form a silhouette.

My throat seized, yet an involuntary whisper escaped my lips. “Sh-shadow Walker.”

19 - Upheaval

The flurry of movement around me set my already reeling senses spinning. Most ponies took cover behind the closest object, regardless of flimsiness. Surely, dark magic would be no match for fences and flower pots. Curiosity seemed to have an unhealthy hold on them, as they paid little attention to the few who were smart enough to flee.

As Gaelle rose, the purple energy swirled around her, licking hungrily at the air. Even though she was no bigger than before, there was this indescribable feeling that she loomed over the entirety of the town square.

I forced myself to my hooves, as numb, sore and dazed as a weatherpony after a thunderhead mishap. Of course, thunderheads typically don’t try to murder somepony; effects I could normally spend a few minutes walking off were suddenly a big problem. I flailed, swimming through time as I attempted to get my body into a defensive stance. About half of it obliged.

Gaelle let out a cruel laugh, her voice surprisingly unaltered. “Thought you’d won? That you even had a hope against me? Pathetic.”

She hobbled forward, her newly revealed power apparently unable to do anything for a couple crushed talons. Or perhaps she was just too crazed to notice.

With a wicked grin, Gaelle raised her uninjured claw, the purple flames gathering to form a dense ball where the very centre was a black maw that consumed all light. She gave me a pointed look before casually lobbing the fireball my way.

My mind screamed at my body to move and almost a moment too late, I was half-leaping, half-falling out of the way. The blast made a strange, tinny, almost hollow, sound as it sent me rolling. Dust rained from the sky, pelting me every foot or so with a wave of stifling grime. Although, as I slid to a stop and the dust cleared, the smell of scorched earth made me long for the return of that bland dryness.

Struggling to my hooves, I tried to put some distance between us. The fight had already bordered on unreasonably risky in the first place, but Gaelle had clearly shown I had no business being here. Escape was a dicey prospect, but I reasoned that if I could lose her among the alleys, I might have a chance.

I glanced back at where I’d last seen Blaze, or rather, her spear. There was no sign of the weapon, nor that she had been foolish enough to venture out here. Good, at least she’s safe.

There was a flash of purple and I barely ducked in time. The smaller fireball whizzed past, exploding with significantly less force as it collided with one of the unfortunate storefronts. The wall was seared away, charred almost unrecognizable black, as though it had been in a raging forest fire. But that was it; the rest of the building didn’t even catch fire. I shivered.

I made for the nearest alleyway, all the while cursing myself for lingering out in the open for so long. Another fireball sailed over my head, but this one didn’t explode; it disintegrated as it impacted the ground, breaking into a fine, mist-like substance. I stepped way the hay back and reluctantly turned around to face Gaelle.

“Going somewhere?” She grinned and the green in her eyes grew, creeping out into her feathers like some kind of alien tears.

I didn’t answer; I could barely stop myself from shaking as it was. There was no escape, not if she could summon deadly walls at will. In fact, I was certain the only reason I wasn’t dead yet was because she was trying to corral me.

So I was left with one plan. It was a terrible plan, but I had little choice in the matter. I would play her game, let her think she’d changed the terms. Then, assuming she made the first mistake, I would bolt. Or perhaps, however unlikely it was, finish the fight.

I began to circle Gaelle, watching her movement very carefully.

Her grin widened. “There’s a good girl.”

I narrowed my eyes, but tempted as I was, I kept my mouth shut; this was not the time to waste energy on pithy one-liners.

The staredown dragged out and it wasn’t until I’d made two full laps that Gaelle made her move. A crescent of energy, about as large as her claw, rose from her palm. I took a quick backstep and ducked as she flicked her wrist. As luck would have it, I’d guessed right, the blade cleaving through the air where my wing had been.

Gaelle’s next attack came in low and I jumped, though just barely high enough for the sickle to pass between my legs, shortening the hair on my belly. My body surged, the close shave setting my blood on fire.

But I wasn’t out of the woods yet. The third was a cleverly placed double-whammy: one behind and one in front of me. Seemed she was tired of my circling at hoof’s length. Presumably, she expected me to step directly away from her, setting me up for one last attack. As crazy as it sounds, that made the obvious choice ‘charge straight at her.’

Her eyes went wide as her neck once more came within blade’s reach. But my stroke never touched a single feather. My wingblade collided with a small, purple surface. An ear-grinding squeal filled the air as my weapon bit into the impromptu shield.

I tried to pull away, but as I did, the shield shattered, an invisible force throwing my wing back, wrenching it behind me. Staggering backward, I fought to keep my balance, my vision lost in a flood of tears.

Something, perhaps a talon, touched my chest and I tried to back away, but it was too late. Everything went white and my entire body exploded with the same pain and numbness as before. I tried to pull away again, but my senses were gone. I might have even passed out. All I know is that when I could finally see the world again, I was crumpled onto my side, staring up at Gaelle’s malicious grin.

“Nice try, you almost entertained me,” she mocked.

“Ugh…” was all I could moan, which wasn’t exactly the comeback I was looking for.

She grabbed my mane and pulled me close. Strangely, I didn’t even feel it.

“We’re going to have so much fun, you and I,” she said, chuckling a little with each word, “and you’re going to tell me everything.”

Despair flooded my mind and I froze, not that I could have said anything meaningful at the moment. Once I was past the initial daze, though, I was able to fend off the darkness and get back to the task at hoof. I still had a chance. There would be an opportunity somewhere, I just had to hold out.

Gaelle opened her beak again, the barest hint of a sound coming out, but then her eyes went wide. Her grip faltered and I slumped back to the ground to the tune of a screeching griffon.

Once I was back on my side, I was able to get a better view of just what had interrupted our little conversation: the shaft of what I was sure must be Blaze’s spear was sticking about halfway out of Gaelle’s right hindquarter.

I didn’t know whether to cheer or fear for Blaze’s safety. I think I settled for both.

Blaze was charging in from behind and best I could tell, she didn’t have any back-up weapons. Although, as Gaelle turned her way, Blaze did at least have the foresight to twist the still-impaled spear.

The blast that leapt from Gaelle’s claw looked something like a cone, with a texture not unlike the vapour from before. The shot was wide, but just close enough to graze Blaze’s flank. I cringed as Blaze’s cutie mark, then the surface of her flesh, melted under the power of the beam.

Blaze let out a cry of agony, stumbling off course and skidding across the ground.

No! I tried to stand, but my legs remained limp and detached from my mind.

“Hah! Don’t you… dumb ponies ever learn?” Gaelle raised a claw, summoning a small fireball.

“D-don’t… hurt...” I croaked, collapsing under more failed attempts to get up.

Gaelled glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get back to you as soon as I take care of this mess.”

I mustered all my willpower and pushed again, straining like I was carrying a boulder on my back. I got one forehoof up, but all that got me was a better view of the fireball’s launch. As it spiraled the through air, time slowed down.

That was it. I wasn’t strong enough. I’d failed. Again. And Blaze was dead for it, just like them…

With a screech, a blur swooped down from the sky and collided with the fireball. It stopped abruptly, giving me one last look at the zombie-bird before it exploded.

I tucked my head against my body as bits of zombie rained down around us with a sickening series of plops. When the sounds finally stopped, I stole a glance at Blaze.

She had suffered the worst of it, unrecognizable pieces of zombie-bird covering her from head-to-hoof. If she was relieved at all, it was lost behind her ‘I’m going to puke’ face.

“What the f—!” Gaelle began, only to have a zombie-pegasus slam into her, carrying her several feet away from me. They landed in a tangled heap, limbs flailing wildly.

“Dusky!” Ivory was suddenly beside me, shouting into my ear and all I could do was give her a stunned look. “Are you okay?”

I nodded, shaking my the haze from mind. “Yeah, she went easy on me, but Blaze… she… she needs a medic.”

“We’re a little short on those,” Ivory replied.

“Then go, do what you can. I’ll be.. fine,” I gave her a pained smile and though I doubt she bought it, she broke off toward Blaze.

I set about working the numbness out of my legs, all the while keeping an eye on Gaelle’s scuffle. While it started as a wild melee, she quickly brought her magic to bear, cleaving the zombie’s barrel in half with one of her sickles.

“Looks like someone else needs to be taught a lesson!” Gaelle fumed, forming a sickle in each claw.

“Watch out!” I cried.

Ivory didn’t even look Gaelle’s way. She didn’t need to. A cacophony of caws and screeches echoed through the town square. Everyone looked up.

A great blanket of rotting feathers, comprised of what must have been at least a half-dozen zombie-birds, descended upon Gaelle. I almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

They danced around her, evading her sickles, all the while clawing and pecking at her face. She did get a few lucky shots in, but their numbers were many. She went down, though that didn’t stop her from swinging nor the zombie-birds from retaliating. Only with one final burst, a short, but intense ring of energy that cut them out of the air, was she rid of them.

The shape that lay facedown in the dirt was but a beaten and bloodied shell. Ragged breaths wracked her body while the dark energy only seemed to have intensified, burning across her back like an ominous bonfire.

“Stand tall, my citizens!” Prideful’s voice boomed from the balcony above. “This is a test! A test that I have been preparing for! For while Canterlot is content to sit on its hindquarters, I knew! I knew that there were foul creatures about!”

I looked up and finally put a face to the voice. His blue-purple coat was as cool as his expression, radiating confidence as he cast a calculating gaze over the carnage below. There was nothing particularly sinister about him; he had no evil aura nor expression of malice. In fact, his was a demeanor much like Princess Celestia’s, even if his words were poison. Regardless, I was starting to see why he held so much sway and that thought was perhaps the scariest I’d had all year.

The growing murmurs among the crowd only served to fuel my worry. That they’d been so skittish during previous, far less intense, situations left me with little hope for things to go anywhere but downhill.

I turned my attention to Ivory, whose focus remained on tending to Blaze. Though she did sneak the odd wary glance at Prideful Policy from time to time.

“And these forces of evil, who aren’t just content for their alliance to take us on, but have the gall to fight over us right inside our town, as though they own us, that is why I built the militia!”

Gaelle let out a gurgle. What bits I could make out seemed to be half-coherent curses.

I opened my mouth, but after a few seconds, profanity was also about all I wanted to say. Prideful Policy had presented the perfect counter-accusation by virtue of it being so close to the truth. If I was to object with the evidence as incomplete as it was, all the townsfolk would hear would be “Nuh, uh! That’s what you’re doing!” As much as it pained me, I had to let it go for now, lest I make the situation even worse.

And with many of the townsfolk stepping out of their hiding places, some of who toted anything from rocks to splinters of planks, I was absolutely certain that said situation needed none of that kind of help.

“Rise up and join your brothers and sisters-in-arms! Even if the Guard has abandoned us, we can make a difference! You can make a difference! Strike down this evil and their lackies!” Prideful Policy continued, his voice rising with each word.

The other ponies were working themselves into a frenzy, shouts of agreement intermingled with variations of “Down with evil!” echoing through the square. To my dismay, it quickly became a unified chant; it was then and only then, that the full extent of Prideful Policy’s talents hit me. Before, it was time for me to leave; now, it was time to run for our lives.

“Blaze! …” I paused, looking for a way to not out Ivory’s name. “Ivy! We gotta go!”

The bulk of the crowd stalked toward Gaelle, which she responded to with gurgled threats and feebly swung talons. Seeing the best opportunity we were likely to get, I beckoned to Blaze and Ivory before I began what was some kind of strange hybrid between a hobble and a dash toward the main road. I tried to shut out the pained screeches as we fled the town square.

Blaze was moving no faster and even had to lean against Ivory for support. I stayed slightly in front, scouting for anypony in front of us, but it soon became clear that those who wanted to fight were already out here behind us; the rest were huddled in their homes with their hooves pressed to their ears.

The crowd behind us was steadily growing and gaining fast. They could easily have been upon us, but it seemed that everyone in the mob was hesitant to be the first to step forward. Despite being a frenzied herd, or maybe because of it, the fear of Ivory’s power held them back.

But it was only a matter of time before someone did move and when they did, everything would come down like dominos.

I slid back to Ivory’s side. “We need something to hold them off. Do you have anything left?”

Ivory shook her head. “I… I can’t use zombies against them. They’ll kill themselves.”

All I could do was try not to slump. She was right, these were hardly real combatants and likely do little more than provoke retaliation against a zombie. But if they caught us, we were done. It was a lose-lose situation and we had played right into Prideful Policy’s hooves. Fight back and forever paint Ivory as a monster that massacred a town. Or continue to run, get caught and have the knowledge we had against him wiped out with us.

“J-just… leave me…” Blaze’s voice was barely audible.

“No way. We’re in this together!” I shouted back, sounding far more confident than I felt.

Especially after you risked yourself for me.

That was when the air around the road started to… pop, for lack of a better word. Loud and short, the sounds were followed by a thick, white mist. The crowd started shouting about witchcraft and heresy as their forms were lost in the fog.

Something tugged at my leg and I spun, ready to take on my opponent. But there was little more than a small, brass aura wrapped around my foreleg. Earnest!

I nudged Ivory and pointed her off to the side. She nodded and passed the message on to Blaze.

As we stepped into the alleyway, Earnest appeared from the mist and I jumped, nearly bringing my blade to bear.

Ivory froze, her eyes suddenly a battlefield of anguish and relief. “E-Earnest?”

Earnest looked down for a moment. “Ivory… I’m sorry we had to meet again like this. I… I owe you an explanation, but there’s no time for that now. The mist won’t last long and the townsfolk won’t be any happier once it clears. You have to go! Head directly to the fence! Once you clear it, the closest patch of forest shouldn’t be far.”

“What about you?” I raised an eyebrow.

“I’ll hold them off.”

“What!?” Blaze and I both asked at the same time, though hers was more of a groan.

Earnest shook his head. “Don’t give me that look. I’m just going to misdirect them. I have no plans to die here.”

I couldn’t help but blush.

20 - Looking Forward

As we reached Ivory’s hut, even in my exhausted state, I instinctively realized that something felt off. Namely, while things looked familiar, it didn’t feel like we’d been traveling long enough or in the right direction, for that matter.

The interior was even laid out exactly the same as the other, though the dusty darkness gave me this odd feeling like I’d just stepped several weeks into the future. It was clearly Ivory’s hut and yet, it wasn’t, in the sense that we’d built our friendship somewhere else. I don’t know why it bugged me so much, but it did. Not that I had the energy to do much more than gawk.

Ivory caught my gaze and hastily offered an explanation. “With such a big forest I can’t always be in the same place all the time.”

“Wouldn’t the estate be safer?” I asked.

Ivory nodded. “It would be, if we could get there. Having the roads watched is probably the first thing Prideful would have done.”

“And we’d be sitting ducks,” I admitted.

Blaze let out something resembling a grunt.

Though, as I watched Ivory glance over her shoulder for the tenth time this trip—and the first with the door shut—I suspected she wanted someone else to find us. I might have said more, but every inch of my body ached in protest at the very thought of a second journey.

Despite that, I found some part me was still restless and tried to reason with it. Given the mob’s hesitation to make the first move while we were on their turf, I was willing to bet they’d spend days trying to make someone else take the first step into the forest. I felt the edginess ebb away, leaving me with only pain and fatigue.

I’d been so focused on Blaze that it was only then, standing in the middle of hut, that the reality of my wounds caught up with me; my legs had simply had enough. One second I was looking straight ahead, the next, I was facedown on the ground.

Poor Ivory was left to juggle two incapacitated mares, though her magic certainly helped ease the situation. Her aura slid over the hay bed, both smoothing and thinning it out such that more than one pony could fit. The whole time, she continued to brace Blaze with her body, slowly, but surely, leading the way over.

Next, Ivory stood over me, her horn becoming a blinding column of light. The room lit up as though a fully fed fire were dancing in the fireplace and I felt her magic close in around me.

There’s something strange, almost unsettling about being held in a unicorn’s magic, but at the same time, it also kind of tickled. It may sound like a strange observation for somepony who routinely travels through the air on magical wings, but take it from me that both modes of transport are very different from each other. I might even venture to say that the lack of control makes it even worse for us pegasi.

Once I was settled onto my bed, Ivory appeared over me, her forehead slick with sweat. But she paid it little mind, her eyes rolling over the length of my body.

She lifted each of my legs in turn, her magic poking here and there; I couldn’t help but make the odd yelp when she came across a particularly tender spot, a surprising amount of which were on my chest; given how hard my legs had given out, I’d expected far more damage down there.

“You’re lucky you’re so resilient,” Ivory finally said, eyes flicking up only momentarily. “Somepony with less magical tolerance would have met a much less-pleasant fate.”

“Guess I just don’t know when to quit.” I squeaked out a pained laugh, in a vain attempt to keep the exploding zombie-bird from creeping back into my mind.

“D-don’t say things like that.” Blaze’s face screwed up into a grimace as she curled up against herself. “I… no more death… please.”

“Sorry,” was all I could manage. My mind had become as mud, every thought a slog and with each effort, my eyes grew heavier. Elaboration would have to wait.

“You’ll be fine with some rest.” Ivory looked from me to Blaze. “So there’s no need to worry.”

“Good…” I said, allowing the murky darkness to finally wash over me. And somewhere in there, I thought I felt a muzzle touch my forelock.

The creak of a door opening brushed at my consciousness and for a few moments, I thought that I was still in the first hut. Maybe, just maybe, my leg was still healing; I’d wake up and then we’d have a nice chat, just the two of us.

It was a time before Blaze was captured, before I’d failed to get the poster. A time before Ivory had been revealed to the townsfolk and the mob was just chasing a vague, fictional necromancer figure.

I wanted to cry, but my lids merely bit into the dry, crustiness that had formed around them. I heaved them open only to be met with a blurry orange blob. As I jerked my head back, pain cleaving across my neck and chest, the face came into focus. “Agh! Blaze! Personal space!”

“Sorry! Sorry!” Blaze’s face flushed as she darted back. “It’s just, you were making weird noises and I got worried.”

I shook my head and tried to smile. “No, it’s fine. I appreciate the concern.”

She let out a laugh, a tinge of lingering embarrassment throwing it off-level. “I know I shouldn’t have. You sure are tough enough.”

I blinked, taking a moment to glance around the hut. Save the table, select sections of the floor and the fireplace, the dusting of disuse still covered everything. I wondered if it was because I hadn’t been asleep for long or that there were other priorities.

“Er, thanks? What brought that on?”

Blaze scuffed a hoof, stealing a glance back at her flank. The hair had just barely begun to grow back, giving it a short, fuzzy texture that reminded me of a carpet of moss. “You mean aside from surviving all those attacks? How about recovering in two days when Ivory said it’d take you a week?”

I shifted a bit, my body creaking and groaning as I attempted to get a good look at myself. A wave of nausea rolled over me, flattening me against the floor. “I… urgh… I think you might want to reconsider that assessment…”

“Oh! Here!” Blaze was gone and back in an instant, a bowl of water pushed up against my muzzle. “Ivory said this would help with the pain.”

I practically sucked the whole thing back with one gulp. It tasted and smelled awful, but somehow it made me feel less like retching. Still, I wasn’t sure if the nausea or the lingering after-taste was worse. I looked up at Blaze, who grinned.

“Hey, it worked!”

I nodded slowly, the nausea still fleeing my system. “Thanks for being quick about it.”

Blaze stepped back again and after a few moments, my senses were about as close to clear as I could hope.

With some rather undignified grunting, I struggled to my haunches. I teetered a little, but was relieved to find that sitting upright was at least within my current capabilities. Which meant it was time to see just how bad things were.

I looked down at my chest, where it felt the rawest. Sure enough, there was a claw-shaped depression where my hair had melted away, the faint lines of each claw seared into the skin. Ivory’s words came echoing back to me, followed quite shortly by the image of the devastated shopfront. I shuddered.

“Does this happen often?” Blaze asked.

“What, getting attacked by evil bandit-mages?” I peered up at her.

“Uh… maybe? If that’s a thing that happens, I mean. That story you told me, when you said before you were a traveler and not an adventurer...” She motioned in the air with her forehooves, though she produced little more than misshapen circles.

“Yes, what of it?”

A sad look washed across Blaze’s face. “Is that… your life? Just one mess after another?”

I shook my head. “They come up more often than I’d like, let’s leave it at that.”

She bowed her head, letting out a bitter chuckle. “And to think I used to dream about this.”

A sardonic smirk crept across my lips. “Tell me about it.”

The door creaked open and Ivory, followed by Earnest, stepped inside.

“You’re awake!” Earnest’s voice held just the slightest quiver as he charged over to Blaze and pressed his chin tight against her neck. “You have to stop doing this.”

She shrunk into her father’s chest. “I… I know. But she needed my help! I couldn’t sit there and do nothing!”

“How are you feeling?” Ivory asked, eying me up and down.

“Better.” I tried my best to smile. “Just had a little bit of trouble getting up.”

She looked down at the empty bowl. “Understandable, considering how hurt you are. Give it another day or two.”

Ivory glanced over at Blaze. “How’s your leg?”

“Just fine,” Blaze answered, demonstrating by trotting a quick circle around Earnest. He placed a forehoof on her chest.

“Good, then we can get out of here.”

“Wait, what?!” Blaze stepped back to look her father in the eye.

“Your mother and I have gathered what we could and shut down the inn. We’re leaving town,” Earnest answered before turning to Ivory. “I’m sorry to delay this again, but once I’m certain Silver and Blaze are safe, I’ll return.”

Ivory’s eyes fell to the floor. “Will you really?”

“Yes. I swear it on my life.” Earnest drew himself tall and bowed his head, as though he were making a promise to a superior.

“Whoa, whoa, wait.” Blaze jumped between them and waved her forehooves. “We’re just going to give up? We’re going to abandon the Pasture and leave it with him?”

“He is precisely why we have to leave. There’s nothing more we can do at this moment and he knows you’re involved. I won’t risk leaving you within his reach,” Earnest replied, a grim resolve spreading across his face.

“What do you mean ‘there’s nothing we can do!?’ We could… we could—”

“Do something rash that makes him a martyr among the townsfolk and us fugitives for life?” Earnest gave her a stern look. “Escalating the situation will simply play into his hooves.”

Blaze slumped.

Similarly, my stomach felt like a rock and my body sunk accordingly. “He’s right and… I’m sorry. If only I’d gotten the poster, maybe things would be different.”

“Don’t be.” Earnest shook his head. “I don’t know what led up to that riot, but I have no doubt that it was an exceptionally unlucky situation. I think I speak for all of us when I say we’d be sad if you died over a poster.”

“Yeah!” Blaze chimed in. Ivory nodded her agreement.

I gave them my best reassuring smile, even though their words couldn’t completely drive away the guilt. “So then, the letter, can you do anything with it?”

“I can have my friends look into it. It’s certainly suspicious enough to start an investigation. However, know that Prideful will likely catch wind and have ample time to prepare. But they know I don’t pursue frivolous things. It may take time, but they’ll find a way through his wall of lies.”

Blaze and I exchanged solemn glances.

“And that’s not the only front he’ll face,” Earnest added. “Now that the rage has worn off, ponies are asking questions. He clearly overestimated himself and he’s paying the price. While we can barely see it today, his power is showing cracks and once that sort of thing is there, it never goes away.”

A small smile crept up my lips, rising with my spirit, and I looked from Blaze to Ivory. “So we can’t meet him head on, but that doesn’t mean we’re giving up. “One day, everyone will be sick of Prideful Policy’s games. One day they’ll realize that dark magic is simply a tool and it is the ponies who misuse those tools who are evil.”

“Can... ponies really change so much?” Ivory stared ahead, that lost filly swimming back to the surface of her eye.

I motioned to the rest of us. “We may be few, but we did, didn’t we?”

Ivory turned to me and blinked. The silence hung in the air like fresh snow: slow, drifting and… hopeful. A smile began to form, shy, but contented and as bright as the morning sun. “Yes, I… I guess you did.”

A nearly imperceptible giggle touched her muzzle and she gave us all a sheepish look. “I… never introduced myself to you, did I?”

“You didn’t?” Blaze blinked.

I pondered a moment. “Not formally, at least not to me.”

“But you still trusted us with your name. That’s what matters,” Earnest added.

“Half.” Ivory’s grin shrank a little.

I tilted my head. “Half?”

Her horn lit up, brushing her forelock out of her eye as she extended a hoof. “My name... is Ivory Hope. Nice to meet you.”

I stood atop the edge of the valley, a cool breeze sifting through my mane as I stared down the trail. It was a rocky, winding path, not unlike the dozens I’d seen before. Lush green foliage of all kinds carpeted the valley wall, hiding parts of the path as it worked its way toward Crystalside.

The town itself was hardly the pinnacle of tourism, but was still grand enough to stick out like a sore hoof. Large, rough shacks sprung up among the trees, their alignment surprisingly organized. A multitude of coloured dots milled around the largest, most central building. And at once, we had our target.

I glanced at Ivory, who, for the fiftieth time, gave me an uncertain look. And for the fiftieth time, I matched it with a reassuring smile.

There had been some persuasion, yes, but there was no question that with the precarious state of her current reputation, Ivory needed to lay low. That meant no sightings of neither zombies nor strange, cloaked figures. Though the need to make such appearances was lower than ever.

With the bandits’ leadership beheaded, the rest disappeared into the night. I can only speculate, but I suspect that the fear I saw was the one thing holding them together. With that gone, they dissolved as everyone sought to look out for themselves. I could only hope that some of them, at least one particular stallion, found their way into a less unsavoury profession.

In any event, it was the right time for a vacation and even though she kept glancing back over her shoulder like a worried mother, I think Ivory knew as much as I did that coming out to Crystalside would give her the distance needed to breathe a little.

Sure, there would still be troubles back in Pasture, with battles undoubtedly on the horizon. But for that moment, we were just two mares, two friends on a journey. And we had a jewel to see.

“Ready?” I asked.

Ivory closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath and holding it. When she finally let it go, the entirety of her being seemed calmer. In fact, that little filly had returned to her eye, sparkling with curiosity. “Yeah.”

Author's Note

Now with a sequel, From Dusk to Night.

Epilogue - Life Goes On

A week is far too little time, but better than nothing. Even if we’d had one or a hundred years, all good things must come to an end. Life goes on.

We parted in tears at one of Ivory’s huts, a strange contrast to the first march that really kicked off our struggle. They say that friendship forged in the trials of fire is among the strongest things in the world. On that day, I felt no statement could be truer. We said our goodbyes, knowing that they wouldn’t be our last; the other would most certainly survive until next time.

And so she returned to her guardianship and I, to Ponyville.

I kept tabs on Pasture, watching for any sign of an opening. But it quickly became clear that even with what we had, going against Prideful was playing the long game.

So I kept Ivory in my heart and waited. Life went on.

Author's Note

Now with a sequel, From Dusk to Night.