Chapters =====// \=====
Miss Cheerilee wasn't a bad teacher, all in all, but the warm afternoon and Equestrian Geography had reduced her students to a torpor from which they were only just starting to emerge. Books were eased silently into their desks and bags, pencils and other stray materials were tidied away, and each foal's attention was drawn increasingly to the battered old clock, willing it to tick faster.
Finally, Miss Cheerilee gave up the unequal battle for their attention. “I think that will do for this week. Remember, we have a history test on Monday, and I expect your homework on the Griffon clan structure on my desk first thing on Monday morning. And there will be no extensions, Diamond Tiara!” she added firmly, and the little pale-purple filly who had opened her mouth to speak deflated dejectedly.
The sudden, harsh rattle overhead was more like the starter's bell at the Running of the Leaves. Perhaps they ought to call this the Running of the Foals , Apple Bloom thought idly as she rammed everything into her saddlebags as fast as possible.
“Have a good weekend, everypony!” Miss Cheerilee called, um, cheerily, from the front. By this point, Truffle had once again belied his bulky frame to be halfway to the school-yard gate. How he managed it, she couldn't begin to imagine, but she wondered once again whether he would be the first Earth pony to join the Wonderbolts.
She met Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, who were waiting impatiently by the door for her, and together they walked more slowly out of the schoolhouse, happy to have the other foals leave them well behind. “Another week done,” she sighed when she reached the gate.
“An' now we got a whole weekend to do some crusading!” cheered Sweetie Belle excitedly.
“Yeah. Woo. Crusading, and three whole pages on the boring old Griffons! Who cares about a bunch of stupid Griffons, anyhow? The only Griffon that's ever come to Ponyville was that old friend of Rainbow Dash's, and she turned out to be a complete jerk!”
“Was not!” insisted Scootaloo, although Apple Bloom thought it was more of a reflex than anything.
Sweetie rolled her eyes, but was smart enough not to argue. “Look, I say if we meet up on Sunday morning at the clubhouse and help each other, we'll get them done in no time. That means we got a whole bunch of crusading time 'tween now and then.”
“Parachuting. That's got to be it,” said Scoots, with a wild gleam in her eye.
“No!” Apple Bloom and Sweetie exclaimed together.
“I ain't never going near Ghastly Gorge ever again!” Apple Bloom added firmly, “And the zip-lining was bad enough!”
“And we already done mountain climbing – there's no reason to add throwing ourselves off once we get to the top!” said Sweetie Belle.
Scootaloo flicked her wings in irritation. “Fine! And anyway, I bet we won't be allowed out on our own with that stupid monster everypony's talking about.”
“Not anywhere out of town,” Sweetie Belle gulped, “My sister would have my hide!”
“Mine, too!”
A slow, sly smile crept over Scootaloo's face. “Cutie Mark Crusader Monster Catchers?” she suggested.
“No!”
“Aw, come on! I don't hear you two suggesting anything?”
They trotted in the general direction of the fountain, bouncing ideas of each other for gaining their cutie marks, but they were beginning to run out of inspiration. A thought had been growing in Apple Bloom's mind, and she decided to suggest it.
“How about we go and see Mr. Braise? I bet he must have something we ain't tried yet?”
“Mr. Who?”
“Not Mr. Hooves, Mr. Braise. You know, that new pony that does wood and stuff.”
“Uh, doesn't he live out of town? And weren't we just saying we'll get in trouble if we go out of Ponyville?” Scootaloo reminded her sarcastically.
“I've heard ponies talking about him, too. Some of it sounded pretty bad,” said Sweetie Belle worriedly.
“That's all wrong, I heard my sister and brother talking about that. And he's been down to the farm loads of times, he's real nice,” said Apple Bloom, glossing over some of what Applejack and Macintosh had talked about when they thought she wasn't listening. “And anyway, it's only just over the bridge; it's closer to Ponyville than the clubhouse!”
The other two looked at each other for a moment.
“I dunno, it sounds kinda lame,” said Scootaloo.
“That's your answer for anything that isn't called Rainbow Dash,” Apple Bloom snorted.
Scootaloo bristled, but Sweetie cut in before she could get going. “Well, it's either that or we go home and start on studying for that History test?”
Scootaloo made a face at Apple Bloom, but reluctantly agreed. “Hours of learning about mad old rulers from Scandineighvia, or crusading and maybe getting our cutie marks; it's not even a choice! Let's get it over with, then.”
Still bickering, the three fillies turned and headed east out of Ponyville.
=====// \=====
The last touch of pencil disappeared under his careful chisel, borne off on the tiny shaving which fell away, freeing the acorn at last. He could hear youthful voices approaching, and set his tool aside with a sigh when he heard a hoof tapping on his door.
He found three little fillies looking up at him from his doorstep. Apple Bloom, Applejack's little sister, was unmistakable with the large pink bow in her mane, and she was with a pale-grey Unicorn with a pink and purple mane, and a studiously bored-looking bright orange Pegasus. From the bright, angelic smiles they turned on him, he knew immediately that they were going to be trouble.
“Hi, Apple Bloom. What are you doing all the way out here?”
“Howdy, Mr. Braise! This here's my friends Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, and we're the Cutie Mark Crusaders! We're trying to find our special talents, and we were hopin' that maybe you'd be able to help us!”
He briefly thought about turning them away, but wilted under their combined, weapons-grade puppy-dog eyes. “So, cutie marks, huh? Have you fillies got any ideas what your special talents might be?”
“Well... nope,” admitted Apple Bloom
“Nada,” added the Unicorn, Sweetie Belle.
“I got nothing, but I bet it's going to be something awesome!”
Silver had to hide a smile at the little Pegasus' bravado.
“Well, in some ways, you've got it easier than me. I had a whole bunch of ponies ready to tell me what they thought it ought to be, but not many prepared to let me find out for myself.”
“But it could be anything,” said Apple Bloom forlornly.
“Yeah, so we're trying to do as many things as possible to see what they might be,” added Scootaloo.
He smiled, thinking of some of the things that he and Summer had got up to as foals. “Generally, I think you probably already know what it's going to be, you just have to realise it.”
Sweetie Belle frowned up at him, perplexed. “So we should already just know? How does that work?”
Silver thought for a bit. “What's my cutie mark?”
They all craned their heads to see. “It's a... well...,” Sweetie Belle gave up.
“One of them pointy things, for drawing circles,” said Apple Bloom.
“That's right; or more accurately, they're dividers; used for measuring things. You know what I do, don't you, Apple Bloom?”
“You're a carpenter. You work for my brother an' sister down on the farm,” the little filly said, visibly perking up at the thought of her family.
“Well, sometimes I do, yes. Now then; how do you tell I'm a Carpenter from my cutie mark?”
As he expected, he was faced with three blank faces. Well, two blank faces and a Pegasus which was rapidly losing interest, but what the hay. “Why not a, I don't know, a cartographer?
“What's a cartographer?” asked Sweetie Belle.
“A map-maker, then? Or a wheelwright, or a cooper, or a geographer?”
“Ugh, don't even mention geography,” muttered Scootaloo in disdain.
“You still haven't said what a carto-whatever is,” Sweetie Belle protested.
“A cartographer is a map-maker, silly!” said Apple Bloom impatiently.
“Oh, sor-ry for not being a walking dictionary like some ponies!”
“Hey, hey, that's enough!” said Silver, trying to head off their squabbling. “Anyway, the point is, dividers could be mean any number of things, so how did I know I what they meant?”
He grinned at their incomprehension. “I did wonder if I was supposed to be a wheelwright for a little while, seeing as that was what I was doing when it appeared, but when I thought about it for a bit I realised that my talents were a little broader than that. Carpentry and wood-working. So here I am today,” he finished, with a joking little bow.
“That's... huh.” Sweetie Belle looked completely lost.
“Well... could you let us try something anyway? You know, just in case,” said Apple Bloom, with a winning smile.
“You never know, right? I don't see why not-”
Before he'd finished speaking, the three fillies let out a cheer and charged into his workshop. He felt a momentary flare of panic. “Hey! Get back here right now!” he barked angrily. A moment later, three little heads came out and lined up in front of him looking contrite. He took a deep breath.
“OK. Before anypony touches anything, there's some stuff you need to know,” he began in a calm voice. “A whole lot of stuff in there is very dangerous if you don't know what you're doing. I don't want to have to explain to anypony's parents how they managed to get hurt, so the first rule is that you always listen to me, and you don't touch anything I don't tell you to, OK?”
He got three solemn nods, and continued. “Some stuff in there is heavy and it can crush you if you're not careful, but we won't be doing anything with that. We will be working with lots of things that are very sharp, though, so you need to be very careful so that nopony slips or does anything careless. That means no horsing around. If there's any horseplay, all three of you are going straight home and you won't be coming back, am I clear? Good. Even if you're careful you can make mistakes, and sometimes mistakes hurt.”
He held up one front pastern in front of them, covered in the little hairless black nicks and lines of old scars. He had their attention now, and decided he'd probably made his point. “So, how about we go and see if we can find something for you fillies to work on?” he asked with a smile.
He led the little troupe inside and over to a work bench farthest away from the machinery. He thought for a second, then started to pull down some basic tools and a few scraps of wood.
“Now, can anypony tell me the difference between a softwood and a hardwood?” he asked, tapping some examples as he spoke.
“Yeah, one's soft and the other's hard,” said Scootaloo.
The other two fillies rolled their eyes, but he had to laugh. “Believe it or not, that's not always the case, but that's not quite the answer I was looking for.”
“They're from different types of trees. The softwoods are usually conifers, and they're easier to work with, usually 'cause the fibres aren't as dense, but the hardwoods tend to be more long-lasting an' come from fruiting trees, like apples.”
He looked at Apple Bloom in barely-concealed shock; the little filly really knew her stuff! “That's right.”
Scootaloo let out a badly-concealed sigh, and he tried not to smile.
“Don't worry, I'm not going to make you memorise the characteristics of every tree in existence, I just want to cover a few basic principles so you understand how and why things are done the way they are.”
He kept it brief and simple, and Apple Bloom answered nearly all his questions with great enthusiasm, even adding a few of her own. Sweetie Belle did her best to keep up, but the little Pegasus filly gave up and let it wash over her. He made a note to keep an eye on her when they got started.
“Now, how about I let you loose on something and we'll see how you go?” He pulled out the skeleton of a chair, just the seat and legs sitting on a pair of unfinished rockers.
“That's a rockin' chair, just like my Granny's!” said Apple Bloom brightly.
How right you are , thought Silver. In fact, Mac had been saving his bits and asked Silver to build Granny Smith a new rocking chair so they didn't have to cart her old one around all the time. Hopefully it would give the little filly a buzz to realise that she'd helped make something for her Granny.
He set them to work with spoke shaves, showing them how to turn the rough-split elm battens into the spindles that he would use to form the back of the chair. He quickly left Apple Bloom to help Sweetie Belle and concentrated on getting Scootaloo involved, but she simply didn't seem to have much idea about working with her hooves.
“You feel the change when you hit that spot, there?”
“Well... kind of?” she said hopefully.
“That's just the remains of the knot, there. If you pull too hard, you might dig in, or tear the knot out. Take your time; patience is one of the most important things. If you try to remove too much wood too quickly, that's when things go wrong. How are you two doing over there?”
“Great!” chirped Apple Bloom. “I got a couple done already, and Sweetie's getting the hang of it, too.”
To his surprise, Apple Bloom had produced a very passable tapered spindle. Sweetie Belle's was rather a lot more wobbly and uneven, but he could rescue that later.
“Great job, you two! Have you done any of this before?”
“Apple Bloom has, you should see the job she did on our clubhouse,” said Sweetie Belle proudly, making her friend drop her head and shuffle her hooves embarrassedly. A suspicion began to form in Silver's mind, but after a moment he dismissed it. Nah, what are the chances?
“Well, keep up the good work. Tell you what, Scootaloo, how about you help me cut some arms?”
The change of task helped a little as they roughed out one arm together, but he could see that Scootaloo was rapidly losing heart. Perhaps that was as much as he could expect from them at their age. A sudden flash of inspiration struck.
“I think you've done really well with the spindles there, girls.” He plucked one of the better ones and, after a few quick strokes of a knife at the bottom to get it to size, slotted it into one of the holes drilled in the back of the seat. “What I've got to do next is fit all these spindles, then trim them to length and mould a big strip to make up the frame for the back. What I'd like you to do next is to sign the parts that you've made. I've got some pens here, somewhere.”
“Sign them?” Sweetie Belle asked, mystified.
“Yeah, sign your name to show you made them,” said Silver, rummaging in an old mug full of pencils, pens, and markers.
“Huh, I don't know if the owner's going to be too pleased to see our names plastered all over their new chair,” said Apple Bloom doubtfully.
“I don't know if I want to admit to any of this,” added Scootaloo, reluctantly accepting a marker.
Silver grinned, making a note to be there when Mac presented the chair to Granny Smith. “I think you might be surprised.”
The three fillies quickly set to work, scribbling their names carefully on their work. He was gathering up some of the tools they had used when Apple Bloom came up to him.
“Uh, Mr. Braise?”
“Yes, Apple Bloom?”
“Could I have a go at making one of them there arm things?” she asked tentatively.
“Sure, why not? Sweetie Belle, do you want to have a go?”
“No thanks. I'd like to try sawing something, though. Just some scrap or something, to see what it's like.”
“OK, no problem. Scootaloo?”
“Uh, I think I'll just watch.”
He set up a block of old pine in a vice for Sweetie Belle and passed her a small saw, marking a line across the wood and down the front face with a square, and then showed her how to grip and use the saw effectively. Once she'd got started, he kept one eye on her as he traced a pattern for Apple Bloom to follow and set her up with her own saw.
“Remember, nice smooth strokes, don't try to force it.”
Apple Bloom was going like a master when he looked up and saw Sweetie Belle, about a third of the way down her block and in the middle of a knot, trying to tug her saw free. He was taking a breath to speak when she braced a front hoof against the bench and gave a final, powerful heave. The blade shot loose, sending her tumbling back against the wall with a loud clatter.
He was already moving when he heard the first sharp cracks of ancient, dry rot-filled wood giving way.
=====// \=====
Sweetie had barely bounced to a halt, disoriented and winded, when a large hoof slammed down next to her head and a heavy shove sent her tumbling across the room. She heard a welter of heavy crashes, wood rending and slamming together, along with the clash of metal on metal. Stunned, she lay on her back as the sounds died away bar some heavy breathing.
“Sweetie, are you OK?” she heard Mr. Braise ask in a tight, controlled voice. “Sweetie Belle?!”
“Ohmygosh, Sweetie, are you OK?” Apple Bloom skidded to a halt above her, looking terrified.
She could feel the tears welling up, and her voice shook despite her best efforts. “I'm OK. I'm OK, I'm s-s-sorry, Mr. Braise.”
She heard a loud sigh from Mr. Braise as she rolled over and got to her shaking hooves. Scoots was there, propping her up on one side, and Apple Bloom quickly took the other.
“It's OK, Sweetie, it's not your fault. It's just that this old building is a bit wobbly in places.”
Something was wrong. Mr. Braise remained half-facing the wall, his hoof still planted amidst the pile of debris.
“I'm sorry!” she wailed, unable to stop her tears despite her friends' support.
“Don't worry about it. Now, I think it's time that you fillies were heading home, don't you?”
“I wasn't fooling around, I promise,” she sobbed.
“I know, Sweetie, it was an accident. These things happen sometimes, but it's getting late and I'm sure you're all supposed to be home by now.”
She stumbled out in a trance while her friends muttered their thanks and apologies. By the time they reached the main driveway, she had enough control of herself to stop and wipe her cheeks with the back of her hoof.
“You OK, Sweetie?” Scootaloo was looking at her with big, worried eyes, and uncharacteristically there was no trace of mockery in her voice. “That was... not cool.”
For a moment, Sweetie almost thought she was going to say 'scary', but Scootaloo wasn't scared of anything, no matter how much they might tease her sometimes.
“Yeah. I thought you was a goner 'till Mr. Braise saved you,” said Apple Bloom in a shaky voice.
“He saved me?” she asked stupidly, still not quite sure how or what had happened.
“When you hit the wall, something broke an' a whole bunch of stuff started falling. Mr. Braise pushed you out of the way and kept stuff from hitting you. I was plumb terrified 'till you started moving again,” she added in a near-whisper.
Sweetie sniffed loudly and gave her friends a big, shaky grin. “OK, so maybe not our most successful crusade ever?”
“That was lame,” Scootaloo agreed.
“Well, I liked it,” said Apple Bloom softly. “Uh, girls? Did you think Mr. Braise was OK when we left?” she added, after a pause.
“He was fine, even if he was a bit grumpy,” said Scootaloo dismissively.
Sweetie Belle thought back. Why hadn't he faced them when he was speaking to them? He didn't sound angry, or at least, not that angry. “I don't know,” she said slowly.
“Well, he was right about one thing; we ought to be heading home,” said Scootaloo, turning away but remaining close to Sweetie Belle's side.
She could see Apple Bloom still thinking. “Apple Bloom?”
“You guys go ahead. I just want to check on him, make sure he's all right,” said Apple Bloom.
“Of course he is, he's a big pony, remember?” said Scootaloo.
“You'll be all right?” Sweetie Belle asked, ignoring her friend’s impatient tone.
“Yeah, I'll be fine. I'll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Assuming we're not grounded,” muttered Scootaloo. “Come on, let's go.”
She watched Apple Bloom turn and disappear back up the little path towards the workshop before setting off for Ponyville, with Scoots close by her side.
=====// \=====
Twilight's studies had not been going well; it was now four days since the Princess' letter and there was still no news. She found herself increasingly easily distracted, and having caught herself staring out of her study window once again, gave up and made her way upstairs to the highest balcony in the library. Rainbow Dash had snared a passing cloud earlier and brought it down to float just above the library, making a perfect recliner for her to bask in the late-afternoon sun. Fluttershy had joined her, and had just rolled over to hang her front hooves over the edge so she could talk to Twilight when Spike crashed breathlessly through the door behind her.
“Twilight! Urgent message!” he panted, waving a scroll at her.
She took it from his grasp with her magic, breaking the seal as she asked, “Are you OK, Spike?”
“Yeah, just dandy. What are you doing up here, anyway? It's like you're back in your tower in Canterlot?” he asked, but his question drifted past Twilight, whose eyes were widening as they ran down the parchment.
“Fluttershy, get Rainbow, right now! Everypony, listen to this:”
=====// \=====
Dear Twilight,
It is as I had feared. I now know what the creature is and how it may be found, and although its nature seems greatly changed from what Luna and I remember, the risk to my little ponies around Ponyville can only be described as extreme. I must urge you to tell everypony to remain safely indoors until the creature has been dealt with.
I am dispatching the Royal Guard to Ponyville immediately. They will require a large open area to assemble, preferably close to the Everfree Forest. I would be grateful if you could send up some sort of beacon to guide them. Luna and I must prepare ourselves, and we will follow as soon as possible.
~C.
=====// \=====
Twilight looked up at them with horrified eyes. Fluttershy was hiding behind the long curtain of her mane, and even Rainbow Dash looked worried. Twilight swallowed, trying to force some moisture back into her suddenly-dry mouth.
“Spike, take this to the Mayor immediately; we've got to get everypony to safety! Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, start spreading the word; get everypony inside and tell them to lock their doors and stay there until they hear otherwise.” Spike saluted her sharply and grabbed the scroll back, furling it in his paws as he plunged downstairs, while the two Pegasi leapt to their hooves.
“We're on it,” said Rainbow grimly. “But what about you?”
“Open space, open space... I've got to get to Sweet Apple Acres!” Twilight paced on the little balcony, trying to think, barely aware of it swaying under her weight.
“But it'll take you ages! I could try to carry you?” suggested Rainbow Dash.
Twilight shook her head firmly. “No need.”
She closed her eyes firmly and, with a blinding burst of light, she was gone.
=====// \=====
Applejack was just leaning out of the barn window to holler to Big Mac when Twilight appeared in front of her with an eyeball-searing flash. She jumped, banging her head on the sill, and slithered back inside, cursing. She trotted to the door, shaking her head, and was nearly ploughed over by Twilight, who was galloping the other way with a look of panic on her face.
“Whoa! Slow down, Sally! What's with all the rush?”
“The Princess is back,” Twilight blurted breathlessly.
“Oh! Uh, great,” said Applejack.
“The Princess is back! ” Twilight repeated, almost hopping with frustration.
Applejack blinked, sure she was missing something. “OK, sugar cube, deep breath now, and give it to me from the top.”
Twilight explained, the words tumbling out of her like a waterfall. “I need somewhere to put the Royal Guard, and you're the only pony who can help,” she finished in a rush.
“Well, uh, there's the field nearest the gate, that's ploughed and planted, but nothing's come up yet-”
“Great! That'll do! Now, you need to make sure that your family is all indoors. We can't afford to take any chances.”
“Right you are, Twi,” said Applejack. She trotted over to the dinner gong and began ringing it furiously. “Mac! Apple Bloom! Get yerselves over here, right now! ” she hollered.
Big Macintosh appeared seconds later, still hitched to a cart. “What's up, sis?”
“Y'all need to get yerself inside. The Princess is coming to deal to that there monster, and I need you to make sure Granny and Apple Bloom are safe,” said Applejack firmly.
Macintosh's reply cut her heart out. “Say, where is Apple Bloom?”
Applejack just stared at him, stunned. “You ain't seen her? Oh. Oh, Celestia! Twi, I gotta find her!”
“Show me this field first,” insisted Twilight.
“What's going on?” Macintosh asked, a trace of worry creeping into his usually placid voice.
“Mac, get inside an' stay there!” Applejack barked, already cantering towards the front of the farm. Twilight followed in her wake.
Applejack paused briefly when they reached the front gate. “They can use that field, there,” she said, pointing. “Twi, I gotta go find Apple Bloom!”
“She's probably with her friends,” Twilight said in a soothing tone.
“Probably ain't good enough ! Look, you do what you gotta do, but I'm going to find my sister!”
With that, she rammed her hat down firmly on her head and set off at a tearing gallop through the apple trees.
Her old clubhouse was looking trim and lived-in, but there was no sign of Apple Bloom or her friends. Cursing her luck, she made her way east to the Carousel Boutique in the hope that she would be with Sweetie Belle, but Rarity hadn't seen her little sister or Apple Bloom since school finished. In some ways, it was reassuring, as Apple Bloom was almost certainly with her friends, but given their propensity for finding trouble...
She galloped on, finding Cheerilee at the school just in the process of locking up. “Yes, she left straight after class with Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle, as usual. I've no idea where they were going,” said the teacher, picking up on Applejack's concern immediately. “Applejack, what's wrong?” she asked, but the farm pony was already leaving, swearing viciously under her breath as she ran.
The problem was, not only were Ponyville's normally bustling streets deserted, she was reduced to knocking on doors and few ponies would answer. Just when she was giving up hope, an old stallion gave her some priceless information through his letter slot.
“Your sister? Yes, I saw her. She was on the bridge, heading east with her friends.”
A cold chill crept over her. East out of Ponyville; there were only two places there that they could have been going, and she'd bet the farm on one of them. She could only hope that she and Twilight hadn't made a terrible, terrible misjudgement.
=====// \=====
She paused cautiously by the door, wondering again if this was a good idea. Inside, she heard a pained grunt and a gasp, followed by a string of words she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to know in a high-pitched, strangled voice.
She tapped cautiously at the door, and walked right in. “Mr. Braise?”
His head whipped around to look at her, and she stopped dead as he spat a long sliver of something onto the floor, his muzzle reddened. Blood was pouring down one of his front legs, thick and red. She swallowed a sudden urge to be sick. “I... I thought I should check you're OK. You don't look so good,” she said, her voice wavering uncertainly.
He gave her a wan, unconvincing smile. “I'll be all right. It's just a bit of a cut.”
She took a pace closer. The cut was long and jagged, spilling blood in a steady stream to pool around his hoof. “T'ain't no little thing, Mr. Braise, that's bad an' deep, an' it needs a bandage at the very least. Ain't you got no first aid kit, here?”
“I'm a little short on first aid kits, Apple Bloom,” he admitted. He gave her a considering look, then asked, “I could do with cleaning this out a bit. Could you go and get me a bucket of water from the back? Please?”
“Sure thing.” She darted outside, half-glad to get away from the awful sight and the coppery smell of blood. She found a pail next to the pump, and a few wheezing strokes later it was half-full with water. She gripped the handle carefully in her teeth and carried it reluctantly back inside.
“Thanks,” he said, with a jovial wink completely out of place with the scene. Maybe he was trying to reassure her, but it wasn't working. She'd never seen so much blood, and would be quite happy to never see it again. There goes a nursing cutie mark , she thought crazily. Oh, don't think about it. Really don't! Ew, that's just gross!
He took the bucket from her, pouring it steadily down his shoulder and leg. Despite his grip on the handle, she could see his jaw clamp tight against the pain as water pooled redly on the earthen floor. Casting about, she saw a linen napkin on the floor and snatched it up, shaking the dust off. Carefully, she folded it lengthways and trotted over to press it against the wound. Red seeped through almost immediately, staining the white napkin darkly. It was too small to take in the whole length of the cut, but it was better than nothing. He leaned over against her hoof pressure, letting out a shuddering gasp. “Yeah, keep that there,” he forced out through gritted teeth.
It was hopeless. She fought an urge to give up and cry helplessly, casting about for something or somepony to help her, but the workshop was bare. A thought struck her, shocking in its simplicity.
“You hold that there for a minute, Mr. Braise,” she said. She tilted her head and wormed her bow off, pulling the knot free and unwinding it. It would never go around his shoulders, even assuming she could reach, but perhaps it would work on his leg.
She wrapped one end around his leg and tied it across the bandage. “Tighter,” he grunted, gasping for breath as she wrapped the end around his leg again and pulled as hard as she dared. She dodged between his legs, the ribbon clutched in her teeth, wrapping it around him again and again, keeping a firm tension on it that drew little snorting grunts of pain from the carpenter. Finally, with only a small length left, she tied it off, again pulling it as tight as she dared. He was panting heavily as she finished, and she could see sweat darkening his coat.
“Thanks, Apple Bloom, you've done a great job,” he said. How his voice was so kind and so even was a mystery to her.
“It ain't brilliant, but it'll have to do. You need to get yourself to the hospital right quick, Mr. Braise.”
“I dare say you're right. I'll be off there straight away, but you need to get yourself home, Apple Bloom.”
“But you're hurt-” she protested, but he cut her off.
“And I'm going to be fine, but your sister will be worried about you. Go on, Apple Bloom, you can come back and see me some other time. Maybe we can find some more stuff for you to do? You're quite talented, you know.”
“Uh, that'd be great,” she said uncertainly, casting a half-longing look at the door and freedom. The longer she stayed, the more the awful weight of responsibility settled on her slim shoulders.
He limped a pace towards the door, more of a three-legged hop than anything, indicating with his head that she should go.
Reluctantly, she trotted to the door and hesitated for a moment. “If you're sure?”
“I'm sure. Good night, Apple Bloom,” he said firmly, the smile on his face belying the agony she knew he must have been feeling.
Feeling shaky and sick, she turned away and started to gallop for the farm. Resolve formed in her head as she ran; she would tell her sister. Applejack would know what to do.
=====// \=====
Silver watched the little filly go with a sigh of relief. She was a brave one, that was for sure, but she shouldn't have to deal with anything like this, not at her age. With a little moan of agony, Silver took a couple of hopping steps over to the door. It would take him ages to get into town. Even if he could make it to the bridge, he couldn't be sure that anypony would help him. Heh, maybe they'll think it was the monster, and I was harmless all along , he thought wildly. It seemed unaccountably funny, drawing a pained chuckle from him.
Casting a look back at the pile of wreckage, he silently cursed himself again for not recognising the danger before. It was a dilapidated old building with many faults and weak points, but he hadn't realised the extent of the dry rot on that side or he would have kept well away from it, or at least unloaded the shelves. Careless, careless, careless ! As it was, as soon as one thing went, the whole lot came down, and it was only a miracle that had prevented Sweetie Belle from copping the lot.
A small hatchet lay on the ground in front of him, its handle touching one of the spreading pools of blood-tinged water. Automatically, he bent to pick it up. No point letting it get rusty , he thought to himself.
Just as he looked around for the nearest bench to leave it on, he heard heavy hoofbeats approaching hurriedly. Thank Celestia! Help at last.
=====// \=====
Summer looked anxiously around her salon and checked the clock for the hundredth time. She had flipped the sign to 'closed' about half an hour ago, and spent some time sweeping up and replenishing bottles. She had set one pair of clippers aside for Silver to have a look at later, but there was no sign of him. Today, of all days , she thought anxiously. Huh, probably just lost track of time, as usual .
Since her window had been defaced she had been staying out at the workshop, and he had walked her to and from the salon each day. Just like being back at school , she thought wryly. Although she was pretty sure it was safe, he had still insisted, 'For my peace of mind, more than anything,' he had said. And while she wouldn't admit it, she did feel safer with Silver trotting along at her shoulder. She felt a fond smile creep over her face. The big jerk must be sick of looking out for me, all these years.
Perhaps he had heard the news, the same as she did. She shook her head in wonder, remembering the little busy-body from number 17 telling her, without a trace of irony, that she needed to stay indoors because the Princess was coming to deal with the monster in the forest. Summer knew full well that he had been an avid gossiper, and that not an hour before he would have been insisting that there was no monster, and that it was all her and Silver.
Hypocrites .
The clock ticked on, and the street remained entirely deserted. Reluctantly, she turned the key in the lock and trotted upstairs to her little room. Perhaps somepony had been and warned him, too, and he was anxiously locked up in the workshop worrying about her. Perhaps. It seemed a long way out of anypony's way, though.
She sat on her bed and pressed her nose against the window, keeping watch.
=====// \=====
Her hooves tore up small clumps of the moist soil, galloping as hard as she could go towards the Berry farm with her breath burning in her throat. Up the driveway, now, and she swerved off onto the little path that led to his workshop. She hit his door like a hurricane, the words already tumbling out.
“Silver, have you seen my sis...”
The last word trailed away to silence as the unmitigated horror of the scene sank in on her. He was standing close by the door, a tomahawk clutched in his teeth, and the sun streaming through the opened shutters shone brightly on the blood soaking his chest and shoulders. Pools of red lay all over the earthen floor, staining it darkly, but worst of all – worst of all – a familiar pink ribbon was tied haphazardly around one of his legs.
A very familiar ribbon. One that she must have tied a thousand times. Her world shattered, leaving only a single thought in her mind.
“Apple Bloom?” she whispered in disbelief, almost a prayer that her eyes were deceiving her.
The tomahawk fell to the ground at his hooves with a heavy thump. “Hey, Applejack,” he said, his voice at once tired and, strangely, full of relief.
She blinked, but the scene refused to change. It was burned into her retinas, an irremovable stain that would haunt her for the rest of her life. “Apple Bloom? Apple Bloom?!” Her voice rose to a shriek, “What have you done with my sister?! ”
“Whoa, take it easy, Applejack-” he started to say, but her front hooves had already planted themselves as she powered her hind legs through the strongest buck she'd ever delivered in her life.
She felt the smooth, heavy shock through her hindquarters, and pinwheeled back around in time to see him crash to the floor amidst his machinery, his head striking the base of one of them with a sickening crack. The next thing she knew, she was poised over him on her hind legs, her mind a howling vortex of rage and pain and sheer, visceral hate-
No .
Later, she would wonder at the little voice which somehow rose up from the core of her being to stop her plunging her front hooves down on his unprotected head and ending his miserable, worthless life. She sank back onto all fours shaking like a leaf in a storm, tears pouring down her cheeks. He lay stunned before her, mouth hanging slackly and his eyelids fluttering slowly, unseeing.
Gradually, she roused herself to look around the workshop. In one corner was a large pile of debris; wooden boards, blocks and fragments jumbled together with tools, tins, and old farm implements. Above it, fresh-looking scars showed on the wooden walls where shelves had broken away and the roof slumped dangerously. She stumbled over on rubbery legs and prodded around, but found only blood; no little filly lay buried there. The first tendrils of doubt began to snake into her mind.
A bucket lay upturned on the floor nearby. She snatched it up and darted outside, looking for a tap or a well. After all, he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. She found a pump under the back eaves and filled the vessel, heedless of the water slopping out as she trotted back inside. He was just starting to stir when she dumped the half the contents over his head, making him choke and splutter. She leaned down close to him.
“Where's my sister, Silver? Where's Apple Bloom?”
He blinked slowly, his eye still dull. “Apple Bloom?” he repeated indistinctly.
“Yeah, Apple Bloom!” She slapped his cheek, none too gently. “Where is she? Come on, Silver!”
“Went home,” he muttered. “There was an accident.”
“She went home? Apple Bloom went home?” she demanded, but he didn't reply. “Come on, Silver, please!” she pleaded through tears of sudden hope. She raised the bucket and dashed the remainder over his face, hurling it away carelessly behind her. “Silver, focus! Please!”
His head jerked back and his face twisted in pain, his eyes screwed shut. He was breathing in short, irregular snorts, but it was working; he already seemed more alert.
“Where's Apple Bloom?” she repeated slowly.
“Gone. Went home. Help me!” he panted through gritted teeth.
“When did she go home?”
“Uh... Uh, I don't know.”
Stupid question! she berated herself. “How did you get that ribbon?”
“She gave it to me. There was an accident. Applejack!”
She shook her head in frustration, and glanced down. There was no way her sister would give up her favourite mane ribbon, but...
He was lying on his side, the ribbon wrapped around the front leg currently pressed against the ground, but it also bound a dirty, blood-stained piece of cloth tightly to him. She felt in incredible surge of relief and elation and... hope.
“She went home?” Applejack repeated again, desperate to hear him say the words. He didn't look capable of lying, not now.
“Yes! She tried to help me, but I sent her away. I sent her home.”
He shifted awkwardly, and a low moan escaped his lips. She was torn. He looked like he was telling the truth, but maybe he was just trying to get her out of the way? She wrestled with herself for a moment, then stood.
“Applejack!”
“I'm going home, Silver,” she said in a shaking voice, “I'm going to find my sister, and she better be there. If you been lying to me...” she trailed off, unable to contemplate the thought now that hope had returned. “If she ain't there waiting for me, I'm gonna be coming back, y'hear? I'll be headin' up a posse, an' we'll burn your shack down around your damn ears, y'hear me?”
With that, she turned and galloped for the door, her heart bursting with hope and terror as she sprinted for Sweet Apple Acres as fast as her legs could carry her.
=====// \=====
Twilight ground her teeth and intensified the wide beam of purple light lancing into the evening sky from her horn. A dark cloud had risen over Canterlot nearly half an hour before, and by now she could see the distant glint of the sun on gilt armour. She tilted her head, pointing the beam at the approaching guardsponies to get their attention, and tried to ignore the faint tremors in her legs. Teleporting so far took quite a bit of magic, and here she was, burning more of it without allowing her body time to recover. Time for that later , she thought.
By the time the first chariots touched down, she was grateful to let her horn fizzle out. Each chariot disgorged a pair of fully-armoured guards while their Pegasus companions quickly unhitched and shunted their vehicles into neat ranks to one side, allowing more and more to land. Twilight's heart leapt to see a familiar figure step down from one of the chariots. “Shiny!” she called, cantering over to him.
He gave her a warm smile. “Hey, Twily, I should have known you'd be here, somewhere!”
“What's going on? Where's the Princess?” she demanded.
Shining Armour gave her a strange look. “You don't know? Never mind, I don't have time to explain. The Princesses are on their way – both of them.” He stepped away and raised his voice commandingly, “Second Destriers, form rank! Lieutenant Thunder, take Charlie Company, Fourth Cavalry and give us a screen between here and the trees! First Airborne, get those chariots away to the left and then I want some scouts up there!”
Twilight left him to it as guards swarmed to fulfil his orders. Shining Armour had a deadly-serious job to do, and she wasn't helping. She slipped away to the farm's main gate, and saw a small cloud of dust approaching with a familiar Earth pony at its head. Applejack didn't slow down, but blew straight past her, her face fixed grimly on the house.
=====// \=====
Applejack pounded up the steps and burst through the kitchen door. “Apple Bloom? Apple Bloom?! ”
“What's the ruckus, sis?” Macintosh emerged into the hall and there, peeking around the kitchen door behind him, was a little yellow filly, her red mane swinging free over her shoulder.
“Apple Bloom!” she gasped, skidding across the floor to sweep her up in a crushing hug. “Apple Bloom, you're OK!”
“'Jack?” Big Mac asked uncertainly.
She could feel her little sister starting to shake, no doubt picking up on her distress and feeling the tears of Applejack's overwhelming relief running down her back, but she couldn't bring herself to let go. To hold that sweet little filly again when she'd thought her sister was gone forever...
After a long moment, she managed to release her grip and crouched in front of her so she could look her in the eyes. “What happened, 'Bloom?” she asked softly. “Where have you been?”
Apple Bloom started to cry, tears more of fear and anxiety than any hurt. “Me an' Sweetie an' Scoots went to see Mr. Braise after school. He was teachin' us stuff so we might get our cutie marks, but there was an accident. Sweetie Belle slipped and a whole bunch o' stuff fell off the wall, an' Mr. Braise saved her but he got a cut on his leg, a real bad one. He tried to make us go but I went back to help him. I tried to bandage him up, but he's hurt real bad, sis! He needs somepony to get him to the hospital. I jus' got back here, lookin' for ya!”
Applejack stroked her sister's mane, comforting her absently as the full horror of what she had done crashed in on her. Cutie marks. She should have known.
Oh. Oh, no .
She had completely lost it when she saw those little bloodstained hoof-prints. She had bucked him halfway across the room without even thinking, and then she'd, she'd...
Her mind baulked, refusing to consider what she'd done.
“Sis, are you OK? Everything's gonna be all right, ain't it?”
Apple Bloom's small, terrified voice was like a dagger in her heart.
“'Jack, what's going on?” asked Mac, now seriously worried.
She stood up, dragging a hoof across her face and sniffing loudly. “Mac... Mac, I think I done something a might hasty. Stay here an' look after Apple Bloom an' Granny. I gotta go.”
“”Come on, Applejack!” Macintosh demanded, reaching a hoof out for her. “What is it? Maybe I can help-”
“Damn it, Mac, stay here!”
With that, she whirled and darted outside. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she realised just how tired she was. She had been running at a full gallop right around Ponyville and her legs were starting to rebel at the effort, but she gritted her teeth and stumbled back up the drive. This was no time to be letting nopony down, not after what she had done.
=====// \=====
Twilight saw Applejack lurch away from the house and stagger up the driveway, tears still running down her face. Worried, she called her name and the farm pony stopped to face her, anguish etched on her face amidst the tears.
“Applejack, what's wrong? Is Apple Bloom all right?”
Applejack let out a bitter, drunken laugh. “Oh yeah, she's fine. She's just dandy, an' meanwhile, I think I just killed a completely innocent pony!”
“You what ?!” Twilight gasped, but there was no time for further explanation. She turned at the sound of the thunder of mighty wings in time to see the Alicorn princesses land just beside them. The ground shook under the combined salute of five hundred guardsponies, and Twilight quickly bowed deeply. Behind her, Applejack collapsed into more of an exhausted heap than a curtsey.
She saw their regal eyes light on her, and flinched. This was not warm, maternal, loving Celestia, or stern, haughty, yet playful Luna, this was the eternal Goddesses of Sun and Moon in all their glory. Celestia's coat glowed a burning white, Luna's an ethereal blue. Their manes, normally gently flowing fields of the aurora instead whipped and crackled in an unseen galactic hurricane, their eyes brimming white with unimaginable power. They were beautiful, awe-inspiring, and utterly terrifying.
“GREETINGS, TWILIGHT!” thundered Princess Celestia.
“HAIL AND WELL MET, TWILIGHT SPARKLE!” added Princess Luna, but Twilight was rolling on the ground in agony, clutching her abused ears in her hooves. Their voices made the Royal Canterlot Voice sound like a genteel whisper. Distantly, she felt, rather than heard, a gentle pop, and suddenly their voices were bearable, although the ground still shook from their power. Trembling, she clambered to her hooves, and saw Shining Armour give her a grin and a little wave. The magic must have been his.
“Princess Celestia, Princess Luna,” she greeted them in a shaking voice.
“WE THANK THEE FOR THY GUIDE, TWILIGHT SPARKLE, BUT TIME GROWS SHORT, AND WE MUST AWAY!” boomed Princess Luna.
“What is it, Princess? What is the creature?” Twilight asked urgently. After all these weeks, she had to know what she'd laboured so hard to find.
“WE SHALL EXPLAIN SOME OTHER TIME, TWILIGHT. FOR NOW, IT IS A CREATURE WE HAVE NOT SEEN FOR MANY THOUSANDS OF YEARS,” Princess Celestia explained gently, although her voice still rang form the heavens.
“Do you need me? And the Elements?” Twilight asked, feeling ridiculous for saying it in front of such divinely powerful creatures. Princess Luna laughed, rolling thunder from horizon to horizon.
“NAY, TWILIGHT SPARKLE! 'TIS BUT A MINOR MATTER, AND DOES NOT REQUIRE THE POWER OF THE ELEMENTS.”
Right. Five hundred guards and two immortal goddesses at the height of their powers was a minor matter. It was like swatting a fruit fly with a fully-grown dragon.
“CAPTAIN, YOU HAVE YOUR ORDERS,” said Princess Celestia serenely.
Shining Armour bowed deeply. “Yes, Your Highness!” He took a deep breath, drawing himself up to his full height. “Battalion, take post !” he roared, a puny thing next to his rulers. Around him, the guards scurried into position with the sign of much practice. He watched impassively until the last guardspony was in place and motionless. “At the signal, Battalion shall advance !”
He fixed his eyes on the Princesses and, after a moment, Princess Celestia's neck bobbed gracefully.
“Advance !”
=====// \=====
Twilight watched them go with a certain awe, the gleaming, serried ranks sweeping forwards through the trees with the two Princesses side-by-side at the heart of the formation and a cloud of Pegasus scouts hovering overhead. She heard a groan behind her, and Applejack's words before they were interrupted sprang to mind. She hurdled the fence and crouched by the exhausted farm pony.
“Applejack! What were you saying? What have you done?”
She tried to keep the accusation out of her voice, but knew that she had failed as her friend flinched. Icy tendrils gripped her heart as Applejack explained in a halting voice.
“I gotta get back there, Twi. I gotta help him, I just gotta!” she concluded, sobbing.
Twilight swallowed. “There's no time. Go to your family, Applejack.”
“But-”
“Don't worry, I'll take care of it,” she said firmly. “You're in no condition to go anywhere.”
“Hurry, Twi!” Applejack begged her.
“I'm already there,” said Twilight. She summoned up the remains of her magic and vanished with a loud, metallic pop.
=====// \=====
Silver Braise rolled the last few fractions of a degree back onto his barrel and waited, panting, for the spots to stop dancing in front of his eyes and the searing agony in his left shoulder to subside a little. Whatever else Applejack might have done, he could tell that her buck had busted something pretty badly, not just in his shoulder but also his ribs, which were screaming their own messages of distress to his over-worked pain centres. And that meant that this was going to hurt. Really, really hurt.
He gritted his teeth again and gathered his good foreleg underneath himself as much as he could before heaving himself up onto his hooves. The stress across his ribs would have made him scream if he could find the breath, but instead all he could produce was a thin, choked wail. The pain made his head reel and his legs shook uncontrollably, but they held. They held.
Toughen up, Braisey-boy, you're either going to have to live with it – or die with it.
The deep slash in his shoulder was bad enough that it would have made reaching town a challenge all on its own, he knew, but even that option was gone now. Now he was going to have to try to get up the sloping driveway all the way to the Berry's farmstead and hope that they could take care of him. Can I do it? No choice now, I'm going to have to. Get on with it .
He managed a few tiny, shuffling steps, trying to lean all his weight back over his back legs and using his good front leg as a sort of prop. It worked, sort of, but each step sent knives of agony shooting across his chest and shoulder. A few more steps, a couple more.
Negotiating the doorway, he found the individual shadows between the vines had deepened as the sun sank into evening, lengthening and merging into a creeping gloom devouring the ground. Great. Another little challenge . He spat and took another little step. The coppery taste in his mouth wasn't much to worry about, but the bubbling rasp to his breathing couldn't possibly be a good sign. Another step. Neither was the waves of cold which swept over him despite the mild evening. Shut up! Get on with it!
He could see the farmstead on the brow of the hill. A light burned inside; the kitchen, no doubt. Another step. He could see it in his mind's eye, the room thick with the scent of well-cooked food and the bright chatter and laughter of the Berry family, where they had invited him a few times. He found that he had stopped, his legs threatening to collapse, and forced himself to keep going. You're drifting, bonehead! Come on, five more steps. Five more, then a little rest.
=====// \=====
Twilight swayed unsteadily as her legs touched down at the bottom of the driveway to the Berry farm, a wave of exhaustion sweeping over her, but she shook her aching head and cantered up the darkening lane. Come on, this is no time for weakness , she thought to herself fiercely.
She turned down the little path to Silver's workshop, but just as she reached the clearing around the dilapidated building something took her legs out from under her and she crashed painfully to the earth, tumbling end over end. Swearing, she recognised the scent in the air even as she thrashed her way back to her hooves and turned to look for the obstruction.
Blood. Lots of it. A dark shape strewn across the path, masked by the encroaching night. And a worse smell, one which sent ice-cold torrents skating through her veins. Swallowing, she willed her magic into obedience and lit up her aching horn.
Her scream was a visceral thing, a sudden pulse of adrenaline sending a blinding flare up from her horn and illuminating the scene in stark, vivid light that burned the horror into her retinas. A twisted mass sprawled before her, almost unrecognisable as having once been a living being. Occasional tufts of grey hair showed through the blood-drenched morass, riven by blackened chasms across the neck and body.
Bile exploded out of her mouth as she collapsed back onto her haunches, her back hunched forward over her stomach, her breath coming in little, high-pitched grunts of negation, nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh . The dull gleam of a single, unseeing grey eye transfixed her, fascinated her. The light that had illuminated it was gone, the spark of curiosity and laughter she had come to know extinguished. Now it lay half-lidded in the ruins of his face, giving the corpse a look of weary resignation.
She dragged her eyes away and abruptly realised that she was covered in a mixture of dust, earth, and his blood, cool and congealing in her coat. She vomited a second time, then again, weeping in pain and shock, weeping for him, weeping for herself.
A faint gust of wind rustled the vines and a quiet but harsh skittering sound snapped her head up, whipping wildly back and forth as her pricked ears strained to pick up any further noise and her eyes darted frantically around the shifting shadows. She swallowed convulsively, feeling the acid burning her throat.
A sudden jolt on her dock drove a gasp from her lungs, and she spun desperately around only to bash herself behind the ear on the growing frame that she'd backed in to. The leaves shivered on the vines, movement which seemed to grow and spread out on another fitful breath of wind. Snorting in terror she edged away, but this drove her back towards the body, her hooves churning up the ichor on the ground in her frantic dance of revulsion. I've got to get away. I've got to report this, tell somepony – tell the Princess! It could be anywhere by now, watching me-
The faint, uneven rasping sounded again in the darkness. A leaf. A dried leaf, blown along on the wind , she tried to tell herself, but her nerve broke and her magic surged once more into her horn to make her escape.
=====// \=====
=====// \=====
Meadowlark looked around the compact little encampment and snorted faintly in approval to see the sentries already posted while the others took up resting positions in the line, ready to 'Stand to' the second any alarm was given. The medics had set up their tent in the middle of the tightly-packed chariots – not that anypony was likely to need it unless they tripped over their own hooves. The main force had entered the Everfree Forest, but nothing in there would be suicidal enough to tangle with an entire Battalion – especially not with both Princesses present and in their current mood. All the rearguard had to do was sit tight and wait for their return, which would be morning at the latest.
Meadowlark was just turning towards her own bivvy when there was a bright flash and a pony appeared right in front of her in an untidy thunderclap of noise and burnt hair, collapsing face-first into a heap. She snatched up her spear, hearing the sharp rattles and curses of the others around her doing the same, and glanced reflexively over her shoulder to see the Corporal already on her way to cover her back. It was only once she felt Oak Heart tap her on the shoulder that she advanced cautiously out of the line to investigate.
The newcomer was a young Unicorn mare, twitching and shaking as she muttered unintelligibly to herself. She stank foully of blood and vomit, and although Meadowlark couldn't see any major injuries she clearly needed help. The Guardspony hesitated only for a second before scooping her up in her magic and hurrying for medical tent. Maybe they'll have something to do, after all .
To her irritation, the scene had caught the attention of the entire camp. “Corporal, get them focussed! Eyes outwards and watch those damn trees!” she barked.
“Yes, Sergeant-Major!” Oak Heart replied instantly, peeling away from Meadowlark's shoulder to canter towards the nearest sentries and issue a few firm reminders.
Muttering under her breath, Meadowlark wrenched aside the drab, olive-coloured flap of the tent and stepped inside, blinking at the brightly-lit interior. The doc looked up from unpacking his case and rose to his hooves as Meadowlark set her burden down on the nearest examination table.
“What have you got there, Sergeant-Major?”
“No idea. She just teleported in right in front of me,” Meadowlark started, only to be cut off by a startled oath from one of the medics.
“Holy horseapples! That's Twilight Sparkle!”
The doctor jumped in surprise and cut in between of Meadowlark and the medic, quickly pressing a stethoscope to the mare's chest. “You mean the Element of Whatsit?”
Meadowlark felt a cold chill run down her spine at the words. “Colonel Shining Armour's baby sister,” she corrected him. “She was here not long ago – what happened to her, Doc?”
“No idea. She seems to be unharmed, just completely exhausted,” said the doctor, peeling open the mare's eyelid to examine her pupil and pressing the frog of her hooves to elicit a pain response. “Somepony is, though – there's a lot of blood here. A lot . Miss Sparkle, can you hear me? I'm a doctor, you're safe-”
“He's dead!” Twilight whimpered, cowering away from the doctor's voice. “He's dead, Shiny... the Princess...” she trailed off in a mixture of tears and exhausted gasps as the three Guardsponies exchanged startled looks.
“Who's dead?” The Doc demanded in an uneven voice, shaking the mare gently by the shoulder. “Who's dead, Miss Sparkle? Where-”
“Silver... workshop...,” she sobbed indistinctly. “Too late, too late...”
The doctor tried several times, but could get no more response out of her. Shrugging, he reeled off an order to the medic, who passed him a filled syringe which he carefully emptied into the large vein on the inside of her leg. Dropping the used implement in a sharps bin, he looked down consideringly at her for a moment before turning to the frustrated Sergeant-Major.
“That's all we're going to get out of her, I'm afraid. She's burned way too much magic and her body's saying 'Sleep'. I've given her something to keep her under, just to make sure she gets some rest. What do we do now?”
Meadowlark chewed her lip for a second, her thoughts racing. “The silver workshop... it must be a place in town, or hereabouts. One of the locals will know. Make her comfortable, Doc; it sounds like I've got a body to find.”
With that, she marched grimly to the door of the tent and pushed her way outside. She found Oak Heart waiting for her, and forestalled the Corporal's questions in a low, hard voice.
“Corporal, take one of the Unicorns and a couple of Pegasus chariots, get fully tooled-up, and head into town. It sounds like there's a dead body somewhere in a silver workshop-”
Oak Heart's eyes widened. “A d-”
“Yes, and for pony's sake don't let on about it!” Meadowlark hissed harshly. “Find out where this silver workshop is, get in and search the place; if we're lucky, it's all a misunderstanding. If not, then act as you see fit. Remember, nopony goes anywhere alone. If you see anything weird, then bug out and we'll deal with it later.”
Oak Heart nodded crisply, her professional side taking over. “Yes, Sergeant-Major. I'll take Humbug, he's sensitive to all that magical stuff.”
“Good thinking. Get moving, Corporal. Report back when you can.”
Oak Heart nodded again and galloped off. Meadowlark watched her go, then swore under her breath.
“I knew this was all going too smoothly.”
=====// \=====
Shining Armour marched at his Princesses' side, using all his training to keep the frustration and irritation off his face. They'd been assembled at short notice and hurried out of Canterlot to blunder through the Everfree Forest all night with no particularly good explanation, and if it wasn't for the fact that both Princesses had accompanied them, displaying terrifying levels of power that he could barely even comprehended, he would have been demanding answers.
As it was, their night had been entirely fruitless, following a circuitous route which meandered randomly through the forest closest to Ponyville and seemed to focus heavily around several spots including a little cottage near the edge, but for all the Princesses' veiled comments and private conversations it was clear that they hadn't found what they were looking for. Finally, after a brief halt for the Goddesses of Sun and Moon to perform their respective daily miracles, they had admitted defeat and set off back to their jumping-off point.
So it was with an aching head and gritty-feeling eyes that Shining Armour halted the formation in the field beside the apple orchard that they'd started from. He turned a rather pleading look at the Princesses for some words of encouragement or explanation for his hoofsore troops but none were forthcoming, so he settled for, “Good work, ponies. Fall out !”
The formation quickly broke up along company lines, encouraged by the smells of breakfast wafting enticingly from the rearguard's encampment, but as he fell in again beside the Princesses he could see one of his Sergeant-Majors hurrying to intercept him, a grim look on her face. He slowed his pace and waited for her salute, returning it with his own.
“Sergeant-Major?”
“Good morning, sir. Any luck?”
The mare looked uncharacteristically antsy – especially for one of his veterans. Interesting .
“Not a damn thing,” he growled sourly.
The Sergeant-Major took a deep breath. “Well, it's all been happening here. Shortly after the Battalion moved out, your sister, Twilight, teleported in. She was in a real mess; covered in blood and all sorts, completely exhausted-”
Shining Armour barely restrained a startled oath, and the mare hurried on,
“-We got her straight to the medics and she's fine, no real injuries, but from what we could get out of her it seems that she's stumbled on the body of one of the locals.”
His heart contracted painfully and this time he did swear. Damn it, it better not be one of her friends! Poor kid – even if it isn't, this is really going to mess her up . He nearly jumped when he heard Princess Celestia's voice behind him, anxiety lacing her usually serene, composed voice.
“A body, you say?”
The Sergeant-Major snapped into a salute, and Shining Armour turned to see both Celestia and Luna striding towards them.
“We must continue this in private, sister,” said Luna seriously. Celestia hesitated, then nodded, turning for the medical tent. The two Guardsponies followed, having to trot a little to keep up with the Alicorns' longer legs, and they entered the tent to the frantic rustle of the doctor leaping to his hooves and trying to hide the crossword he'd been completing.
Princess Luna cut abruptly across his stammered greetings and apologies curtly. “We apologise for disturbing you, my little pony, but we have need on this room.”
To his credit, the doctor stood his ground, for all that his protests were weak and incoherent. “Er... yes, well y'see...”
The doctor glanced back over his shoulder, and Shining Armour couldn't restrain a sharp gasp when he followed the stallion's gaze and saw his sister's form reclining on a stretcher-bed, her grubby mane scattered across the thin pillow.
“Luna!” her sister chided her, but Shining Armour side-stepped them all to reach Twilight's bedside.
Her head lolled to one side, her mouth slightly open in her sleep. Shining Armour could see the swirls and flattened spots in her coat where it had been crudely cleaned, but flecks of dirt and dried blood still clung tenaciously to her neck and left their mark on the rough, white sheets. She looks kinda scrawny, too, like she's not been eating right , he thought for a moment, then snorted at himself. Listen to me! I'll be baking her baskets of muffins and asking her when she's bringing a nice colt home with her next! He shook his head, Oh, Twily, what have you got tangled up in this time?
He looked up with a start when he realised that there were two forms towering over him. Glancing around, it seemed that they had persuaded the medics to take a walk, after all, but Meadowlark remained standing stiffly by the entrance.
Luna gave him a nod of encouragement. “Courage, Shining Armour! Your sister shall be fine. The doctor assures us that all she needs is rest.”
“That is true,” Celestia said pensively, “But time may not be a luxury that we can indulge.”
There was a definite note of anxiety to the Princess' voice, and she and Luna exchanged an indecipherable look which ended in a tiny nod from Luna, a small frown setting across her face. You mind letting everypony in on the damn secret!?
Celestia's horn glowed, and all sound from outside the tent ceased. Their breaths echoed faintly in the abrupt silence with a strange, metallic ring, almost like they were suddenly sealed in a tin box. Shining Armour couldn't restrain himself any longer,
“Forgive me, Your Highness, but does somepony want to tell me why my little sister is tripping over dead bodies, and why I just took half the Guard's active strength on an all-night nature hike?!” he demanded acidly.
“Shining Armour, please, I must beg your indulgence a little longer,” Celestia said apologetically. The usual serenity to her voice was gone, and he felt a sudden rush of uncertainty – If this is bad enough to worry the Princess, do I really want to know?
“Your sister has been involved in a matter of tremendous national importance over the last several months, the culmination of which brought us here to the Everfree forest tonight,” the Princess continued. “And I don't think I will surprise you when I say that we did not find what we sought. That is no fault of Twilight's – and I very much fear that this Guardspony will provide the explanation.”
The two Princesses turned their gaze on the unfortunate Sergeant-Major who, to her credit, remained impassive. And you didn't tell me about any of this ? Shining Armour took a deep breath and started to introduce her. “Your Highnesses, this is-”
“273151 Sergeant-Major Meadowlark, Company Sergeant-Major of Echo Company, Fourth Cavalry Regiment,” Princess Luna took over, “Twenty-three years in the Guard. Born in Hoofington. Turned down a commission twice?”
Luna's voice rose questioningly at the last sentence and she narrowed her gaze at the stunned Sergeant-Major, whose ears had flattened themselves against her skull. Shining Armour restrained a smirk. Welcome to the weird world of the Lunar Goddess, Meadowlark , he thought briefly, A thousand years on the moon and the first thing she does when she gets back is spend months memorising the name and history of every single pony in Canterlot Castle .
“Luna!” This time, Celestia's voice had a hint of exasperation, and the darker Alicorn waved a hoof in apology. “Sergeant-Major, perhaps you can tell us what transpired tonight?”
Meadowlark swallowed heavily and, if anything, stood even straighter. “Shortly after the Battalion moved out, I was making a circuit to ensure our sentries were well-positioned and had clear lines of sight. Everything was in order, when suddenly a Unicorn appeared right in front of me and collapsed. She was clearly... unwell, so I retrieved her and brought her here. She was crying, covered in Celestia-knows-what. She kept saying, 'He's dead', and something about a silver workshop.”
Celestia jerked back as if slapped, and Luna muttered a low curse. Meadowlark broke off for a moment, glancing apprehensively between the two grim-looking Alicorns. When it was obvious that neither were going to speak, Shining Armour cleared his throat. “Go on, Sergeant-Major.”
“We couldn't get anything more out of her, so the doc put her to sleep. I detached one of my corporals with some magical muscle to get a location for this workshop from the locals in the town, and sent them with a couple of pairs of Pegasus scouts to investigate. One pair of scouts returned an hour or so later with a note from my Corporal.”
Meadowlark took a deep breath. “It's a bad one, sir; as bad as it gets. I sent our scouts back with another pair as reinforcements, told them all to sit tight until dawn. After that, they're to bring the civvies in and let them handle it.”
“Why Pegasi for the guard?” Shining Armour asked.
“It's close country, sir; a vineyard. Visibility is limited at ground level, but if they kick a cloud over to stand on, they can see everything that moves for miles.”
Shining Armour chewed his lip for a minute, thinking. “Good work, Sergeant-Major. We're breaking camp to head back to base; get Echo Company packed and loaded, then report to my Adjutant. We may have further questions for you later. I dare say the civvies will, in any case.”
“Yes, thank you, Sergeant-Major,” Celestia added in an oddly stilted voice. There was a ripple of light and suddenly the murmur of ponies and the thump of heavy-shod hooves came flooding back into the tent.
“Yes, sir! Your Highnesses.” The Sergeant-Major saluted sharply and left, looking thoroughly relieved, but almost as soon as the flap fell behind her the sound of the outside world disappeared again with a snap, leaving a foul oath from Luna ringing in the air.
“By all seven hells!” she snarled, stamping a hoof furiously. “A matter of hours, sister! Maybe even one hour!”
“One or many, it was enough. I feared this. I feared it all along,” Celestia agreed sadly, her head sagging in despair.
“Damn it, will somepony please tell me what in Tartarus is going on, here!” Shining Armour snapped, his temper rapidly coming to the boil. “I can't protect you if you're going to leave me blundering around in the dark while there's some sort of threat out there, killing ponies! You know who the victim is, too, judging by your reactions, so how about filling me in so I can do my job!”
The Royal Sisters exchanged another indecipherable look before Luna looked pointedly away and Celestia sighed.
“You're mostly right, Shining Armour, but forgive us – there are certain things that must not leave this tent. For several hundred years, we have been hunting a creature of some sort; a serial killer, if you will, who takes a victim and then vanishes. By a stroke of luck, we – or more accurately, your sister – recognised that Ponyville was threatened and investigated carefully to try to determine who or what the killer is. Certain things fell into place late yesterday, and we thought we had a solution-”
“We did have the solution, and still do!” Luna interjected darkly. “You remember as well as I do.”
Celestia inclined her head in acknowledgement and continued, “We had the solution and roused the Guard to hunt the creature down, but it appears to have slipped through our hooves. The body is the proof. The body will be the proof.”
“The silversmith,” Shining Armour said, understanding dawning.
Celestia sighed again, and for a moment the immortal, ageless Alicorn suddenly looked old – and tired. “No, not a silversmith, but a name. Silver Braise, a local craftspony. Your sister knew him well.”
Despite his rapidly-draining anger, Shining Armour winced. Oh, Twily!
“She suspected him at first,” Luna added. “Or perhaps more accurately, he was a newcomer and she found him suspicious, rather than suspected him, if you take my meaning. Obviously she could tell him nothing, and I suspect he was rather suspicious of her, too, albeit for different reasons. Eventually, she discounted him, but from her reports some of rest of the town were not so inclined.”
Shining Armour felt his brows knit. “If this was all some big secret, why was the rest of the town suspicious of him? Was he some sort of bad apple?”
Again, the Royal Sisters exchanged a look, and Shining Armour got the distinct impression that he was missing about half of the conversation somewhere. “I think it's best that we give you the whole story back in Canterlot. Suffice to say, we gambled – and failed. And now, we must decide how to manage the fallout of this affair.”
Celestia rested a gentle hoof on Twilight's shoulder for a second, then stood tall and lowered her horn until its tip touched that of the unconscious Unicorn. Soft light gathered on the Princess' horn, and slowly Twilight's began to glow in response. Shining Armour felt a stirring around him, a change in potential similar to the prelude to a thunderstorm. There was no breath of wind, but he could feel a gentle drawing of energy, tiny motes of magic flowing almost imperceptibly towards the stretcher from all around them. Unnerved and slightly awed, he held his tongue for several long minutes until the Princess raised her head and stood back.
“It is done, or as much as I dare,” she said, before turning to the anxious Guardspony with a faint flicker of a smile. “She had drained her magical strength deeply, and I have returned some of that to her from the magic which surrounds us, the magic that is found in all living things and even in the soil of Equestria. She would otherwise have slept for days to recover her strength. Now, she should awaken in a matter of hours.”
Shining Armour swallowed heavily, “I'm not too sure that she'll thank you for that.”
“Perhaps not, but it is necessary.” Celestia's smile was slightly bitter. “Time, time, always time. It is remarkable to think of all the aeons I have seen trickle past, and yet always at the crux of things there never seems to be enough time.”
She shook her head and continued, “I think that after we return to Canterlot it might be best for you to take a leave of absence, my Captain. Twilight will need as many friends as she can get – and also, I fear, somepony who can protect and counsel her. There are likely to be those who will seek to make political capital from this, and Luna and I must not be seen to be involved at any level. You will understand more fully later, but there has been considerably anger and resentment in Ponyville during this affair, and some of it has been directed towards Twilight.”
Shining Armour opened his mouth, then shut it again, forcing down the torrent of questions and disbelief which threatened to spill forth. She said that she'd explain back at base – stop blathering and focus on business . “What are your orders, Your Highness?”
“Let the Guard finish their breakfast; there's no point in hurrying them. No doubt the medical corps are anxious to have their tent back, so I suggest we carry Twilight to the farmhouse; it's owned by friends of hers. If you would oblige?”
Shining Armour carefully cradled his sister's stretcher in his magic and manoeuvred towards the entrance, doing his best not to jostle her on the soft, uneven ground. There was the same ripple of light as the privacy spell was dispelled, and raised voices came from immediately outside the tent. Shining Armour ignored them and stepped carefully through to find one of his Guardsponies stonewalling a thoroughly-annoyed tan Unicorn stallion in a heavy blue serge coat over a shirt and tie.
“-an ongoing inquiry!” The civilian rounded on Shining Armour, his gaze taking in the unconscious pony on the stretcher. “Ah, we seem to be getting somewhere at last! Are you in charge h-?!”
The civilian's tirade abruptly cut short with a little squeak, his eyes widening as he took an involuntary step back, and Shining Armour didn't have to look to know that the Princesses had emerged behind him. It was a little beneath him, but he took the opportunity of the distraction to set off towards the farmhouse.
“Please rise, Sergeant,” came Celestia's voice in the calm, serene tone she always used in public. Her hoofsteps sounded to his left and Princess Luna's to his right, forcing the civvy to scurry awkwardly after them. “You will forgive us, I hope, if we are a little pre-occupied at the moment.”
“O-of course, Your Highnesses. My apologies, my name is Sergeant Nightjack, Ponyville Police Station. I am here in connection with-”
“The death of poor Silver Braise, I understand.”
The Sergeant floundered in confusion for a moment before attempting a recovery. “Yes, Your Highness. I believe that the patient is Twilight Sparkle? I shall need to speak with her.”
“That might be a little difficult, what with her being unconscious and everything,” Shining Armour grunted acidly. What seemed like half the Battalion had stopped to watch the odd procession, stoking his temper even more. Come on, it's not their fault. You'd be doing it, too .
“Colonel!” Celestia's voice carried a mild rebuke before introducing him. “Sergeant, this is Colonel Shining Armour, Captain of the Royal Guard. Twilight is his sister.”
“I'm not getting in your way, Colonel, I was just saying that I will need to speak to her at some point,” the Sergeant pointed out carefully.
Shining Armour looked him over more closely. He was somewhere in late middle-age, greying around the muzzle and mane, with little round glasses perched on the end of his nose. His uniform was immaculate but rather worn, the silver buttons gleaming and the fabric washed and carefully pressed so often that it maintained its shape through force of habit rather than force of starch, and it stretched comfortably around a body which had softened a little through age but still retained a considerable bulk of muscle. His voice was mild, but carried a tone of authority that was accustomed to being obeyed.
“I will also need to talk to the Guardsponies who discovered the body. Is Twilight badly hurt?”
Shining Armour strode doggedly onward down the long driveway. “I'm sorry, Sergeant, I've had a very long day and right now I have a lot of things to deal with. Once Twilight's safe, they and I will be at your disposal. The doctor tells us that she'll be fine.”
He could see a big, beefy red stallion walking slowly through an orchard just past the house, stopping to inspect each tree, nipping twigs and inspecting blooms and whatever else made up the orchardist's arcana. A filly in a bright bow orbited him like a satellite, bouncing in high spirits, while on the porch of the house itself, a wizened form nodded gently in an old rocking chair, bundled up in a bright patchwork quilt despite the warming sun. Behind him, Princess Luna expanded on his answer, a hint of disapproval in her voice.
“She is but deeply exhausted, Sergeant Nightjack. We take her to her friend's house to find rest and peace, for we must return to Canterlot.”
“Of course, Your Highness.” They walked in silence for a moment before the police pony noted quietly, almost to himself, “It's a long way from the scene to here.”
Shining Armour forced himself to let that one go.
The little party halted at the foot of the steps to the porch, but there was no response from the old, green mare dozing in the rocking chair. Feeling slightly ridiculous, he cleared his throat. “Good morning.”
The mare's head jerked up off her chest, and she mumbled blearily for a few seconds before squinting down at him with the belligerence of the truly ancient and truly myopic. “Wha... eh? Who's that we got there? Speak up, young 'un! Darn youngsters ain't go no 'spect fer-”
The old mare was peering around the group and jumped suddenly in her chair, continuing in a much warmer tone, “Princess Celestia! Well, I'll be! I ain't seen Yer Highness in these parts since I don't know when!”
Celestia gave her broad, genuine smile. “It's been too many years, Granny Smith, and I apologise for that. The farm certainly looked a lot different back then!”
Granny Smith let out a dry, croaking laugh. “Right after my Pappy raised the first cottage here an' Ponyville weren't no more'n a barn at the river-bend!”
Celestia's merry look faded. “I remember, but first, we were hoping you might have a bed for Twilight? She's completely exhausted and needs-”
“Ya don't even have ta ask, Yer Highness, Twilight's practically one o' the family. Jacqueline Apple, you get yersel' down here right now, Missy, ya gots visitor's that needs ya! ”
Shining Armour managed not to jump, but it was a close-run thing. How in Equestria do you get that much volume out of a doddery old mare like her?!
After a moment came the loud clatter of hooves from inside and a blonde-maned, muscular young mare appeared. “How many times I gotta tell ya, don't call me that, Granny!” she grumbled, before stumbling to a halt and dropping a clumsy curtsey.
“'Til ya stop biting, o' course, ya silly filly!” the matriarch cackled, but the younger mare was already scrambling to her hooves.
“Twilight ! Princess what's wrong, what happened to her?!” she exclaimed in a panicked voice.
“It's all right, Applejack, she's just worn out. We needed a bed to put her in, and the farm was closest,” Celestia said soothingly.
“Uh... uh, sure, she can have mine, that ain't no problem at all...” the mare stammered nervously, already backing into the house. Shining Armour felt his eyebrow quirk upwards in confusion but followed along behind her, easing the stretcher carefully through the narrow hallway and up the stairs.
The mare waited at one door, shifting her weight from one hoof to another and her eyes darting furtively around. “Jus'... jus' set her down there on the bed,” she said in a half-whisper.
Shining Armour complied, then stepped back as the mare tucked Twilight in with care and fussed at the covers before tugging the curtains closed. It was a small room, neatly kept, with a brightly-patterned quilt on the bed similar to the one Granny Smith was using downstairs and a plethora of sporting ribbons and awards pinned carefully around the small dressing table mirror. The furniture was simple and rather worn, but it and the floor shone with the signs of decades of care. He looked up to see the fidgety mare staring at him.
“Twi's gonna be okay, ain't she?” she asked. While she might be unaccountably nervous, there was no faking the worry and naked anxiety on the mare's face.
“They tell me she's going to be fine,” he said soothingly, although that didn't seem to provide the mare with much comfort.
“Oh, uh, that's great. I, uh, I guess we'd better go on back down, let her get some shut-eye.”
He followed her back downstairs, trying to keep his hoofsteps light on the wooden treads, and found Princess Celestia sitting beside Granny Smith, chattering happily of times only they remembered.
The Princess looked up when they emerged onto the porch. “Is everything all right, Applejack?”
If anything, the nervous mare's fidgets got even worse. “Yeah, she'll be jus' dandy up there. Nice an' quiet – least 'til Applebloom gets home, but...”
She trailed off, before swallowing nervously. “Princess... do you know if Twilight managed to get to Silver Braise's place last night?
Princess Celestia stilled, her merry look fading. Behind Princess Luna, he could see the police pony's ears prick up.
“Yes. Yes, I believe she did,” Celestia said carefully.
“Oh. Oh, that's all right, then. That's dandy. And he's, uh, he's all right, is he?”
“No. Actually, he isn't,” came Sergeant Nightjack's voice, quiet but diamond-hard.
The young mare jumped, and let out a nervous laugh. “Ah. Nightjack, fancy seein' you here? Well, uh, tell him I'm plumb sorry, but it was all a misunderstanding! I'll be right on over to explain. And apologise, and if there' anything I can do to make it up to him-”
“I'm afraid that will be rather difficult,” Sergeant Nightjack replied. “Applejack, I'm very sorry to have to tell you that Silver Braise is dead.”
The last word fell between them like the slamming of a tomb door, and the young mare's eyes widened and a look of utter horror swept across her features as she collapsed abruptly onto her haunches.
“Oh. Oh, Celestia, no,” she muttered in a sick voice. “Oh, great Goddess forgive me, I killed him. I killed him! I didn't mean to, I swear! It was an accident, a misunderstanding, I swear-”
“Applejack, stop!” Nightjack barked in a firm voice.
“But-”
“Please, Applejack, not another word. For your own good.”
There was a short, horrified pause, all of them aghast at the unexpected revelation. Shining Armour could almost see the thoughts whirling in Nightjack's head, but finally the police pony cleared his throat and spoke slowly and clearly, enunciating each word carefully into the gaping silence.
“Applejack, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Silver Braise. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence. Do you understand?”
=====// \=====
=====// \=====
Over the next half-hour, Shining Armour could only marvel at Sergeant Nightjack's deft handling of the distraught family. He patiently fielded Granny Smith's confusion, stood firm against Big Macintosh's slow-burning, implacable anger, and soothed the little filly's bewildered tears, all the while radiating resolution and utter confidence in his actions. As for the arrested pony, Applejack herself presented no difficulty. The life seemed to have drained out of her and she moved in a strange, slightly uncoordinated fashion, a dull, anguished look in her brimming eyes on the rare occasions when she raised them from the floor.
She trailed them now, surrounded by Oak Heart and the little detachment which had discovered the body, on the road to Ponyville. Nightjack kept a steady, unhurried pace ahead of them, a pleasant, rather absent look on his face as if he were out for a Sunday stroll. Shining Armour kept pace at his side until he could restrain himself no longer.
“So, how do you want to play this? Interviews first, back at the station, or do you want to come back to that later?”
Nightjack shot him a long look, but settled for, “I think it's best if I leave them at the Station for the time being. As soon as we found him, I called in the Flying Squad from Trotland Yard in Canterlot – Ponyville doesn't really have the resources for this sort of investigation. They should be here soon, and I ought to brief them as soon as possible. Witnesses can wait a little while; the scene examination can't.”
“My guards are at your disposal for as long as you need them, Sergeant.” Shining Armour said.
“Thank you,” Nightjack said gravely. After a pause, he continued in a lower voice, “I think we ought to get a few things out in the open, Colonel. I, of course, cannot contradict the Princesses' will, and I suspect that the same applies to you. I will allow you to follow along and observe for the time being, but any attempt to guide or restrict my investigation or interfere with any evidence whatsoever will not be tolerated. If needs be, I will cuff you and put you on the next train back to Canterlot, but I will not have any meddling from the Palace. Is that clear?”
“Steady on, Sergeant-” he exclaimed placatingly, but the other stallion cut him off in that same firm tone.
“This investigation is going to be difficult enough as it is, Colonel, and suddenly I'm hock-deep in Princesses and Brass Barrels and the whole thing absolutely reeks of politics. I don't care to be kept in the dark about facts material to an inquiry – especially one as serious as this.”
Ignoring the derogatory, old-fashioned slang term for his Guards, Shining Armour blew out his breath and bit back a harsh answer. “I suspect you might be right about the politics, but so far you know more about this than I do. The Princesses haven't told me anything, just that I'm supposed to observe and report. They are taking a personal interest in this one, and are keeping their cards very close to their chests.”
Princess Celestia had met them again back in the camp. She turned an inscrutable look on Applejack, who slumped a discreet distance away surrounded by Guardsponies, before turning back to Shining Armour and Nightjack.
“Sergeant Nightjack, I hate to impose this on you, but I must request that Colonel Shining Armour is allowed to observe your investigation. There are certain matters which may touch on affairs of national importance.”
To his credit, Nightjack protested, “Your Highness, this is highly irregular!”
“Irregular, but sadly necessary. Colonel, please accompany the Sergeant and report back in two days. We will then decide on a further course of action. Any relevant information which we can safely reveal will be passed to you then, Sergeant.”
Nightjack turned his head to give him a sceptical look, which he did his best to ignore. After a moment, Nightjack frowned. “But you're Captain of the Guard?”
Shining Armour shrugged. “Yesterday morning I was going through the annual regimental accounting returns, then suddenly I'm dragging half of the Guard through the Everfree Forest all night, armed to the teeth. I hadn't even had time to get breakfast before you showed up.”
Nightjack snorted. “You haven't eaten yet? Trust me, keep it that way.”
On that ominous note they crossed over the bridge into Ponyville itself, which seemed much as Twily had described it in her letters. The houses tended to be old-fashioned, but all were lovingly maintained, with flowerboxes and baskets hanging in the wide, sunny streets. Cute. No wonder she loves it here . Ponies trotted here and there about their daily business, and he noticed that the civilians seemed to straighten up and walk a little taller when they noticed the small band of armoured ponies in their midst – but not a few of them clustered together in anxious twos and threes, eyeing Applejack's crushed figure furtively.
The police station was a trim little house not far from the town hall, straw-thatched with an old-fashioned blue lantern hanging outside. Nightjack strode inside and quickly took the prisoner's hoof-prints before locking her in one of the only two cells. Oak Heart was passed the keys and given a concise run-down of exactly what she could and couldn't do with her troop and with the prisoner, before being entrusted with the station's battered tea-making supplies and given directions to Sugar Cube Corner. The Sergeant seemed faintly embarrassed as he and Shining Armour set off again on their own, this time east out of Ponyville.
“I'm sorry to hijack your Guards like that, but I only have one Constable and she's still at the scene, interviewing the neighbours.”
“That's OK; you might as well put them to use.”. Aware that they were still in the middle of town and that any of his more pressing questions probably shouldn't be overheard, he settled for a more harmless topic. “Have you always been a police pony? There's quite a few from the Regiments who take it up after they get out of the Guard.”
“Born and bred,” Nightjack admitted. “I did twenty-five years in Trottingham and retired as an Inspector. Moved to Ponyville for some peace and quiet, and after six months I was begging them to take me back, put me on the beat. So here I am. I've got a nice, quiet little town where I know all the ponies by name and see most of them every day. Then this happens; I rather hoped that I'd left all this behind in the city.”
“So you've dealt with this sort of thing before?”
“Oh yes,” he said quietly. “It never gets any easier. What I find so depressing is that it usually turns out to be some banal, petty little squabble at the heart of it that's got completely out-of-hoof – and then I'm the one who has to go and destroy somepony's world by telling them that their son or daughter or partner isn't coming home again.”
They walked in silence for a while, Shining Armour pondering the Sergeant's words as they crossed the little bridge out of Ponyville. As far as he could tell, this was going to be anything but banal or petty. That wouldn't make the victim's family hurt any less. Or even, as he had seen earlier, the perpetrator's.
There was a little patch of low cloud hovering in the near distance with a Pegasus perched on top of it, which he assumed was their destination. “What do you know about the victim? All I know is that he was a friend of my sister?”
“He was just an ordinary pony, really. He turned up with a friend a couple of months ago, set up a business as a carpenter – a good one, too, by all accounts. His friend's a stylist, has a shop in town. Not too long after they arrived, things started going missing around town. Nothing major, just little things, but you don't need to be a rainbow scientist to work out who the rest of the town blamed.”
“And... was it?”
“No. I like to think I'm old and cynical enough to see through it if somepony's putting on an act, but he just seemed... bewildered by it all. He could be a bit cutting with his accusers, but there really didn't seem to be any other suspects.” Nightjack took a deep breath. “Not until your sister come out with some story about a creature in the Everfree Forest a few days ago. There was a meeting of the whole town, and I have to say she was pretty much laughed at – in fact, some of the crowd were turning on Silver and his friend. And do you know who stood up to them and stared them down? His fillyfriend first – and then Applejack and her brother.”
Shining Armour let out a quiet grunt of surprise. “That sort of makes it unlikely that Applejack really did it, don't you think?”
Nightjack sighed. “I don't think anything just yet, Colonel, I'm just trying to gather the facts. Until I have facts, there's little point in hypothesising. As for Applejack? I'd be surprised, but, well, I've seen stranger things over the years.”
That didn't sound like the mare described in his sister's letters, but he kept that thought to himself. After all, he'd never actually met her.
Nightjack stopped at the foot of a long driveway which rose steadily through neat ranks of grape- and berry-wreathed vines to a sprawling farmhouse on the crest of a low hill. About halfway between the house and road the roof of an outbuilding slouched untidily amidst the greenery, and adjacent to it a pair of black-painted Pegasus-drawn wagons sat abandoned in the middle of the drive. One of his Guardsponies stared warily down at them from the cloud above the outbuilding, probably Private Shake Spear whom Corporal Oak Heart had told off to act as sentry. Shining Armour restrained a shiver as Nightjack turned a solemn face to him, pointing with a hoof as he explained the lie of the land,
“OK, mind your hooves in there. The path to the workshop comes out in a sort of clearing right beside the building, and the scene itself is right there. This is an ugly one, so try to prepare yourself; you step out of the vines and it's right there , so you come on it pretty suddenly. Then there's the inside of the workshop itself, but that might have to wait until SOCO have been through. You ready?”
Shining Armour swallowed, suddenly tense. “I guess so. SOCO?”
“Scene-of-Crime Officers,” Nightjack explained, leading the way up the drive. “They process the scene and collect evidence, record layout and photos, et cetera, et cetera . It's quite a specialised job, so we grunts try not to leap all over everything in our hobnailed winter shoes. In fact, I think that's one now?”
Ahead of them, a slender, pale-blue Pegasus mare in a matching blue sports coat and neatly-knotted tie waited patiently for them. “Sergeant Nightjack?” she asked, holding out a hoof. “Detective Inspector Autumn Breeze, Canterlot CID.”
“Ma'am,” Nightjack acknowledged her, shaking her hoof. “This is Colonel Shining Armour of the Royal Guard. He's here as an observer.”
Autumn Breeze raised an eyebrow as she held her hoof out to him. “An observer? Bad news travels like lightning around here, it seems.”
“We were in the area, and some of my Guardsponies discovered the body,” Shining Amour said, receiving a very firm shake. “I was asked to look into the matter and prepare a report.”
Nightjack and Autumn Breeze shared a significant look which clearly said, Politics . Eventually, Autumn Breeze cleared her throat and proffered them a box of fabric hoof boots from one of the black-painted wagons. “Well, just stick with the Sergeant and try to walk where he walks.”
“You won't even know I'm here,” he promised, hopping awkwardly as he tried to get the elasticated top of the hoof boot to stretch around his large hoof. Mum always joked that with hooves like these I'd either be a ploughpony or a policepony – looks like I'd be pulling ploughs!
“If we're all ready? Try to breath shallow, Colonel, it's a bad one.”
Just how bad is it that they all have to warn me? He wondered, his heart pounding and his breathing deepening contrarily in response. Starting to recite some of the methods he'd been taught for controlling his reactions when on guard, he plunged into the vines after the two police ponies.
The path was hard-packed dirt between the growing frames, but where he would expect to hear a riot of birdsong there was an ominous silence broken only by sporadic, low conversation ahead of them. He could see the side of the low, wooden outbuilding when the smell hit him, thick and sickly with the first sour notes of decay. Shuddering, he forced himself onwards until Autumn Breeze and Nightjack abruptly fanned out left and right, Nightjack with a muttered oath, to reveal the corpse almost at his hooves.
His stomach lurched as he recognised the wounds littering the blackened, torn mass in front of him, bone gleaming dully at several points. One back leg jutted out at an impossible angle, and Oh, Celestia, is that his-
His stomach heaved again, with more urgency this time, and he turned tail and bolted for the driveway. He had nearly made it when the meagre contents of his stomach spewed forth, and he staggered over to lean against the fence lining the driveway and vomited until his throat ached. He stood there for a long minute, gasping for air and trying to will back control over his jelly-like legs. Somepony coughed discreetly beside him, and he looked up to see the Pegasus sentry offering him a water bottle. He took it gratefully and tried to swill the foul, burning taste out of his mouth.
“All right, sah?” the Private asked.
“Thank you,” he croaked, spitting again into the dust.
“If it's any consolation, sah, a few o' them coppers have done the same thing. Unbelievable, ain't it? Poor sod.”
Shining Armour took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, shaking his head. “Poor sod, indeed. How long have you been here, Private?”
“I was with the first party wot discovered 'im, sah. Been here ever since.”
“Right. Take five and I'll see if you're still required.”
Swallowing convulsively, Shining Armour forced himself to stand tall and march as briskly back down the path as his unsteady hooves would let him. This time, he kept his eyes pinned to the path and made sure to look studiously away from the body when he reached the building. He found Autumn Breeze waiting for him, but to his mild surprise there was no trace of amusement in her face at his abrupt departure.
“Not pretty, is it? Here, try some of this. It helps a bit.”
Autumn Breeze produced a little pot and smeared a dab of grease under his nostrils, the sharp, stinging scent making him jerk his head back and snort in surprise. The haunting smell from the body was swamped under a tidal wave of menthol and Horstralian Eucalyptus; a distinct improvement but only in relative terms and only as long as he didn't inhale too deeply.
The Inspector turned back to the body and continued her commentary. “Cause of death will be up to the doctor, of course, but it's interesting to note that there seems to be at least one ante-mortem injury. It's been bandaged – rather poorly, but still.”
“C-cause of death?” Shining Armour repeated, hating the little tremor in his voice. “Are you kidding me? He looks like he's been hacked to pieces by a mob of wild Griffons!” He gestured wildly at the body, which was surrounded by a sea of little numbered markers which trailed off back towards the building. A pair of Pegasi wearing all-in-one coveralls shuffled carefully around, inspecting the earth and adding more markers here and there while a similarly-dressed Unicorn swayed gently behind them, eyes half-closed and lips moving soundlessly as fine blue threads of divination magic stretched out from his horn.
“Maybe, maybe not. 'Multiple injuries' is pretty much a given, but type of weapon and number of assailants will be interesting; it definitely wasn't bare hooves, at any rate.”
“Speaking of which, where's the pathologist?” Nightjack interjected from under a little verandah at the front of the building where he was examining some sort of grindstone. Autumn Breeze scowled,
“Coming on the train. Can you believe he's afraid of heights ?” she said acidly. “No doubt with half the Equestrian press corps hot on his tail, too. Who's the Coroner around here?”
“That'd be the Mayor. Don't worry, you won't see her for dust. She prefers her blood-letting to be more political than literal,” Nightjack said sourly.
“Huh, one of those, eh? Anyway, follow me, Colonel. Step wide there – that's it.”
Autumn Breeze led him in a wide circuit under the vines to join Nightjack under the verandah. Three large, unglazed windows looked out on the vines, their shutters pinned back on hinges which showed recent signs of repair, while a door gaped open in the centre of the building. From inside came the flash of the photographer, and another coverall-clad Pegasus backed into view, dropping another numbered marker by some item of interest. The threshold of the doorway was worn into a deep rut, the unmistakable signs of bloody hoof-prints leading outside and-
He frowned, squinting closer at the threshold. Faint, and overlapped by the adult hoof-prints, were a set of much smaller prints. Foal-sized, almost.
“You see them, too?” Nightjack asked in a low voice. “Interesting, isn't it?”
“If you're thinking what I'm thinking, we might have some new lines of enquiry,” Autumn Breeze agreed. She turned her attention to the interior, and the other two joined her at the window.
The inside was a curious mixture of order and chaos. Neat ranks of tools hung from the shabby walls and lined the long benches between half-finished projects. A huge stain discoloured the middle of the earthen floor, but all the shavings and sawdust from a busy operation were swept into a neat pile near the door. A bucket lay on its side in a dark puddle in front of one of a number of gleaming machines of smart green enamel and polished steel. The rough frame of a chair sat next to one bench ahead of a large jumble of splintered wood, beams, tiles, tools and other odds and ends below a sagging roof, one joist hanging down ominously above it like an accusing pointer.
Shining Armour kept silent as he watched the police ponies sweep their eyes methodically back and forth across the scene. There was a loud, embarrassing gurgle from his abused stomach and he shifted uncomfortably, but the others didn't seem to notice. Autumn Breeze has one heck of a poker face. As for Nightjack, he looks more like he's stuck on the last corner of the crossword. Huh, I hope they see something I don't, because I feel distinctly like Dr. Trotson to their Sherclop Hooves .
“I think we've found our ante-mortem injury site. There's no drag marks to suggest he was attacked first and then hauled outside.” Autumn Breeze noted.
“Perhaps,” Nightjack admitted distantly. “There's certainly no shortage of edged weapons on hoof. And what do you make of that?” he asked, pointing.
A small axe lay on the ground, half-in and half-out of another blackened area. Yet another numbered marker perched next to the haft, which was splintered and driven slightly into the floor as if it had been stepped on.
“Depends who stepped on it, and when. We'll collect the prints and run them against your Guardsponies. I believe there was a Unicorn as well?”
Nightjack nodded. “Yes, I tracked her down earlier, too. There's been a bit of a development there, actually. One of her friends has made something of a confession.”
Autumn Breeze's head snapped around to give the Sergeant her full attention. “Oh really?”
“Yes. The problem is, I'm not entirely sure what she thinks she's confessing to , if that makes any sense. She's locked up back at the station, so that's the next port of call once we're finished here.”
“How did you want to play this one, Nightjack? We can stick to processing the scene, or we can take if off your hooves entirely, or somewhere in the middle?”
Shining Armour tuned out their internal politics and tried to make sense of the mess inside. A fight, a brawl of some kind which had got out of hoof? Maybe they'd crashed into the wall during the struggle, bringing everything down? If that stain on the floor meant blood, there must have been a lot of it – was there somepony else out there, nursing a wound? Or worse, lying dead somewhere?
He turned to ask whether they'd searched the rest of the farm and the surrounding area when he heard voices coming from above. One was female, worried and increasingly angry, while the other sounded like Private Shake Spear. He ducked his head down to see under the sloping verandah roof, but had to back up a few steps to get clear sight of them.
Shake Spear had flown off towards the road to intercept a pair of Pegasus mares. One of them was doing all the shouting while the other seemed to be trying to referee, and poor Shake Spear was looking harassed and a little desperate. Darn it, I was supposed to see about getting the coppers to relieve him!
“...see him and I'm not going to be fobbed off by some jumped-up tin can! And if those peabrains from the other night have so much as touched him-”
Feeling that he ought to do something, Shining Armour shouted up to them. “Take them to the end of the drive, Private, I'll meet them there.”
“Sah!”
“Hoo, boy!” Shining Armour muttered to himself. “Uh, Sergeant-”
“Go on, I'll be right with you,” said Nightjack, before plunging back into the midst of inter-jurisdictional agreements and cross-party working guidelines. Shining Armour swallowed and started to pick his way back around to the driveway. How did I get myself into this one? What in Celestia's name am I going to say?
Inspiration was still distinctly lacking as he approached the trio, now waiting at the farm gate.
“Are you in charge here?” snapped the aggressive one, a sort of grey colour with flashing violet eyes.
The other mare, yellowy-tan with three blue raindrops for a cutie mark, swallowed nervously. “Now look-”
“Don't give me that,” the grey one snapped at her friend, before rounding on him again. Behind her, Private Shake Spear gave him a helpless grin and backed away a few steps like she was about to explode. Actually, that may not be far from the truth! “Well?”
“Not exactly,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm and professional, “I'm Colonel Shining Armour of the Royal Guard-”
“Then find me the pony who is, or tell me what the hay is going on!”
Her voice shook a little on the last few words. She's not angry so much as scared , Shining Armour realised, but before he could answer he saw her eyes fix on somepony trotting down the drive behind him.
“Nightjack! Nightjack, what's going on? Where's Silver, is he all right?”
The fear in her voice was much stronger now, her eyes huge and pleading, and Shining Armour felt a traitorous little sliver of relief that somepony else was there to take over.
“Cloud Kicker, Raindrops,” the Sergeant greeted them gravely before focusing entirely on the grey mare, his voice gentle but firm. “I'm sorry, Cloud Kicker, but I can't let you go up there.”
“Please tell me he's all right?” she whispered, all trace of her earlier defiance gone. The other mare – her parents really called her Raindrops? – put a comforting hoof on her friend's shoulder, a look of awful foreboding stealing across her face.
“Cloud Kicker, I'm afraid I have some very bad news. We received a report early this morning of an incident at Silver's workshop. Bluebell and I attended immediately, and on arriving we found him lying on the ground beside the building. It appears that he had been there for a number of hours, and I'm very sorry to have to tell you that there as nothing that we could do for him.”
“No.”
The word was spoken softly, a strange half-smile of disbelief hovering around the mare's lips.
“No.”
The word was slightly louder this time, pleading. Cloud Kicker's eyes flicked to Shining Armour's face, desperate to find some hint that there was a terrible misunderstanding, but he knew that there was no hope for her to find there. Her mouth sagged open and her face crumpled in agony as the tears starting to fall.
“No. ”
The word was a quiet wail of raw pain which struck Shining Armour like a solid buck to the gut. Cloud Kicker's back legs gave way and Raindrops caught her, wrapped her wings around the distraught mare, but nothing could stop or soothe the Pegasus' soft, gut-wrenching sobs.
Unable to watch any longer, Shining Armour had to turn away, feeling like the worst coward in the world – and a complete failure.
=====// \=====
The pathologist arrived shortly after the distraught Pegasus and her friend were escorted back to Ponyville by Constable Bluebell, a very wide-eyed Earth pony mare who looked altogether too young to have left school, let alone graduated from Police College. Either that or I'm just getting old? Nah, I'm only... ye Goddess, that's depressing!
Autumn Breeze's prediction had turned out to be accurate, as the pathologist arrived trailing a cloud of reporters and photographers. Judging by his smug expression and Autumn Breeze's stony glare and gritted teeth, he concluded that this was neither uncommon nor a coincidence.
Wrangling the reporters turned out to be a taxing job in itself. Some knew their place and ventured no further than the farm gate, but a few of the more pushy ones kept trying to sneak a little closer, and eventually a couple of the ponies who were supposed to be working the scene were forced to break off and form a line to keep them back. Shining Armour joined them, trying to ignore the blizzard of questions fired at them by ponies desperate to put form to the story they had sniffed out. The famous Royal Guards' poker face had its uses, after all.
Most aggravating was a Pegasus photographer who led poor Shake Spear a merry dance across the sky, darting in from all angles in the hope of either slipping past the frustrated Guardspony or drawing him away long enough to swoop in, camera clutched at the ready, but Shake Spear doggedly kept her at bay. It became something of an amusement for the reporters, bored with being stonewalled by the police, cheering the photographer and mocking Shake Spear's efforts.
Eventually Shining Armour had had enough, and when the photographer made yet another low-level pass over the gate, he reached out with his magic and lassoed her right out of the air. Ignoring her indignant squawks, he floated her to the ground and set her on her hooves outside the fence, leaving a tight cinch of magic around her middle to prevent her from opening her wings. The second she was free, she marched straight over to him, swearing sulphurously to the laughter of her colleagues. Shining Armour just stared at her with the most intimidating look he could summon until she ran out of steam.
“Finished?” he asked coldly, knowing that any comment was probably a mistake but past caring, “There's a pony dead in there. How about treating them with a little respect, or is that too much to ask?”
The photographer snorted derisively at him, “Well, duh! Otherwise I wouldn't be here, and you wouldn't be about to get sued for assault!”
“Leave it, Shutterbug.”
The pony that spoke was a cold-eyed, green Unicorn with a flaming-red mane, and the photographer turned on her in shock.
“But-”
“I said, leave it.”
This time her voice carried a harder, more dangerous edge, and after a moment the photographer backed down, mumbling threats under her breath.
“You probably shouldn't have done that,” sighed a voice in Shining Armour's ear, and he turned slightly to see Nightjack, who gestured for him to follow. The Sergeant lead him a short distance up the drive, out of earshot of the huddle at the gate. “I have to admit that I'm slightly jealous that you did, though,” said Nightjack, with a rare grin that was gone almost as soon as it appeared. “Irritating little twit! Just hope they don't recognise you, because those sorts tend to hold a grudge.”
Shining Armour snorted angrily. “I can't believe somepony would carry on like that! How could she be so indifferent to the death of another pony?!”
Nightjack shrugged. “That's how they make their living – especially that one. And the other mare, the green one? That's Red Top herself, editor of The Fox. Front Page's right hoof, and she didn't get there through flowers and bunnies, I can assure you.”
“Front Page? As in the media mogul?”
“That's him; a nasty piece of work if ever there was one. I had the displeasure in Trottingham a few times when he was still running the Evening Post into the ground.”
Shining Armour grunted vaguely, thinking. “Would it help if I brought in the Guard to take sentry duty here? Otherwise they're just sitting in Ponyville, twiddling their hooves?”
Nightjack blinked. “Would you?”
“Sure. If there's one thing we're good at, it's standing very still and ignoring stupid questions whilst looking vaguely threatening.”
“I'll send a note with Bluebell as soon as she gets back, then. It mightn't keep them out if they're really determined, but at least it might stop some of them tramping all over the bloody scene like a foal's tea-party.”
Shining Armour gave him a small grin. “Yeah, about that.” He twisted his hooves in the dust, bracing himself against the earth, and began to concentrate very carefully on the building. A few seconds later, a translucent pink dome appeared, expanding rapidly out to encompass the whole building and the surrounding area. There was a startled yell somewhere to their right, and they looked over to see a reporter being bowled along between the vines by the expanding dome. Nightjack just stared at him for a moment, dumbstruck, and then burst out laughing.
“How in Equestria did you do that?! What in Equestria is that?! I've never seen anything like it!”
“A little trick I know,” Shining Armour said modestly. “You and anypony I authorise can pass through it, but anypony else gets bounced.”
Nightjack chuckled and shook his head. “Tell me, Colonel; have you ever considered a career in the police? Public order would be a cinch with you around.”
“I'm not sure that the Princess would be too pleased with me if I walked out on her,” he admitted. “I really don't like using it on ponies, but we're a bit outnumbered, here. What now?”
“There's a certain amount of work that I need to do with the pathologist, but after that there's probably not a whole lot more to gain by being here. The evidence will all be in the report, so I need to start interviewing witnesses while their memories are still fresh – and before they have too much chance to think about things. I need to work out what's going on with Applejack and I definitely need to speak to your sister; I have a feeling that she's going to have most of the answers for me.”
“She might, but whether she can share it with you will be another thing entirely. You know who my sister is, don't you, Nightjack? There's things that she knows, things that she's been involved in recently that I don't know anything about. If they thought you needed to know, you'd already know.”
“That's as may be, but she can't hide behind need-to-know, not now. There's a pony dead; that means I need to know.”
=====// \=====
She awoke in a panic of near-suffocation, feeling feverishly warm. The pulse of an excruciating horn-ache throbbed in time with her heartbeat as she flailed blindly at the quilt with leaden forelegs, trying to shove it off her. Finally, it slide free of her upper body and she lay on her side, panting slowly.
Hints of carbolic soap and sweat and apples crept past her dry, drum-tight sinuses; scents that told her that she was not in her own bed. The pillow was definitely not to her usual taste, either, but even the slightest contact with the huge, down-soft, fluffy headrest sent lightning bolts racing down her horn to pinball around her head.
With a moan, she cracked her eyes open. It took quite a while for her brain to process the images made fuzzy through her eyelashes, but eventually she recognised the well-scrubbed bare wood and especially the ribbons and realised that she was-
Applejack.
Silver .
The thought hit her like a blow and left her suddenly breathless, her eyes stinging sharply. She managed to force the sudden torrent of remembered images away, but not the knowledge and the hollow ache it left in her gut. After all their caution, after all their months of work, she had failed – and poor Silver had borne the cost of that failure in a manner too horrific to think about. She had failed.
She couldn't tell how long she lay there, unable to summon the energy to cry, but eventually she heard the slow, heavy thump of hoofsteps approaching on wooden floors. The door cracked open for a moment followed by the towering form of Big Macintosh, a little tray resting on his broad back. He set it down on the side-table next to her.
“Twilight? How you doing?”
The rumble of his deep, quiet voice vibrated painfully in her ears. She tried to reply but could only produce a wordless croak. A glass of water sat on the tray he had brought, and she automatically reached out for it with her magic only for a sudden thunderclap of agony to drive through her skull. When it subsided, she was embarrassed to find her front hooves clamped to her head against the pain. She forced herself to lower them and try to push herself upright, and after a few moments of struggle a huge, shaggy red hoof gently eased her forward.
“Y'all need to be careful, now. Don't try an' use yer magic.”
She reached out trembling hooves and managed to get the glass up to her lips, Earth-pony style. The first sip barely reached her throat, greedily hoovered up by the parched skin of her mouth and tongue, but the second did, and by the time she reached the bottom of the glass she could already feel some of the tension in her head starting to ease.
“Thanks, Mac,” she managed, her voice still husky and raw. “What time is it?”
“Near enough two in the afternoon.”
Twilight's brow creased, not so much at the unexpected passage of time as at his tone. Big Macintosh was never the most verbose of ponies at the best of times, but his answer was terse and almost aggressive. She tried to lighten the mood a little. “How come you got lumbered playing nursemaid? Where's Applejack?”
Big Macintosh looked away from her. “They took her. The Guard brought you here this morning, an' they had the police trailin' after 'em. When Applejack saw you, she... they arrested her, Twilight. Said she'd killed Silver Braise, an' she didn't make a lick o' protest.” He turned back to her, and he could see the hurt and frustration in his eyes. “She agreed with 'em!”
Twilight blanched, overwhelmed for a second by thoughts of the tattered corpse lit up by the light of her horn, that weary, dull grey eye. “What? But... no, there's some sort of mistake! It wasn't her, Mac, I promise you-”
“So what the hay was it! You an' yer friends bin runnin' 'round in yer little secret club! What was all the ruckus yesterday? Where did she go tearin' off to, that she came back in such a state? Huh? Why do I have to tell Apple Bloom that her sister's bin hauled away like some sort o' criminal?”
She flinched away from his outburst, his normally-placid face twisted in sudden rage, and flailed for some sort of explanation. “Mac, look... you know that we do things for the Princesses, Applejack and the girls and I. This is one of them. What we've been working on, we were told to keep it secret unless things went badly wrong, and we have, but it all went south so quickly that we didn't have time to explain anything. That's what the Guard was doing here last night and that was supposed to be the end of it but they were too late and I was too late and Silver... S-silver...”
Her voice broke, and she couldn't bring herself to say the words, her eyes brimming again when she would have sworn that she had no more tears left to cry. She felt a gentle hoof on her shoulder and heard a long sigh.
“And Silver's dead. I'm sorry, Twilight, I'm just so damn...” Big Macintosh trailed off, but she understood anyway.
“It's all right, Mac. I'd say that there's not much of a secret to keep any more, so if I can just explain things to the right ponies we can sort all this out and get Applejack back again.” She took a deep, controlling breath. “We'll retrieve what we can from this mess later, but Applejack did not kill him. I need to get back to Ponyville as soon as possible.”
Big Macintosh looked at her in silence for a while. “It was that creature you were talkin' 'bout the other night, ain't it? The creature in the forest?” he asked her softly.
“Yes. We had hoped to catch it before now.”
“You seem pretty sure about that.”
“We weren't, not until late yesterday, and even then we only thought we knew. It, it... proved it... last night.”
Big Macintosh nodded and turned for the door. “I'll bring the cart around.”
“We can get there quicker on hoof,” Twilight said determinedly, throwing back the covers. Big Macintosh watched in silence, one eyebrow raised, as she climbed onto her hooves and then wobbled across the room on rubbery legs and flopped unceremoniously on her rump next to the wardrobe, her face flooding scarlet. “On second thoughts, maybe we should take the cart?”
=====// \=====
“You sent for some Pegasistance, sir?”
Shining Armour looked up at the unexpected voice to find Corporal Oak Heart right overhead, her squad hovering close by. Guard duty had sunk into unrelenting tedium when the reporters finally realised that they were wasting their breath talking to him and the other ponies on sentry duty, and any chance of sneaking in for a scoop was defeated by the protective dome that Shining Armour had summoned. Red Top had been the first to crack, muttering a few terse words to one of her minions before stalking back to Ponyville in a huff, but the rest hung around in the hope of a statement or some other morsel that they could placate their editors with.
Grateful for the distraction, he fell back and laid the situation out for the Corporal, who detailed three of her charges to take over sentry duty, while she sent the others up the hill to set up camp at the farmhouse, which the Berrys had kindly offered as a sort of rest and refreshment centre. Not only had they opened their home to their unexpected visitors, they also kept their kitchen table stocked with tea, grape juice, sandwiches, and biscuits for anypony who felt peckish.
Nightjack found him up there a short while later, chomping his way through a second cranberry and macadamia cookie. He would have sworn that he'd be unable to even think about food again that day after the nightmarish scenes at the workshop, but somehow he'd only had to smell the daisy and dandelion sandwiches before falling on them like a horde of parasprites.
“When you're finished, Colonel, I'd like to get back to town and get started.”
Shining Armour stuffed the last corner of the cookie down his throat and hurried outside, calling out his thanks to Mrs. Berry. Autumn Breeze fell in on his right and together the three set off down the driveway.
“Are you finished here already?” he asked.
Autumn Breeze snorted. “By Celestia, no! The pathologist will be another four or five hours, I should think, and then the body will be moved and autopsied. But there's not a whole lot more we can achieve by standing around staring at things, so we might as well start making enquiries and doing interviews.”
Ahead of them, he could see ears prick up amongst the lounging pool of journalists, and when they passed the two black carts still parked adjacent to the workshop, they began to jostle for position more and more enthusiastically. Shining Armour kept his best “On Duty” face up as the questions began to fly.
“Can you confirm-”
“-Guard exercise gone wrong?”
“-A domestic incident?”
“-Identity of the victim?”
“Rumours of theft in town-”
“-Some sort of mob justice?”
Autumn Breeze stopped between the three guardsponies on sentry duty and the inside of the five-barred gate across the entrance, and simply waited for the questions to tail off. The older journalists rapidly shut up, recognising the signs of an official statement, but it took a while for the younger ones to catch on. She began to speak amid flashbulb flares as pencils scratched frantically at a dozen notepads,
“Good afternoon. I'm Detective Inspector Autumn Breeze of Canterlot CID, and this is Sergeant Nightjack of Ponyville Police Station. Early this morning Ponyville Police, responding to reports of an incident on this farm, found the body of a local pony lying outside his workshop. From the condition of the body and the evidence found so far at the scene, we are treating this as a suspicious death.
“A post-mortem examination will be carried out later today and pending the results of this, and also while the forensic examination continues at the scene, no further comment shall be made. I would ask you to respect the privacy of the deceased and his family and friends at this difficult time.”
With that, she turned aside and began to push the gate open against the tide of journalists and volleys of questions. Shining Armour hurried to lend his bulk to her efforts and together they forced a wide enough gap for the three of them to slip through. He noticed that the journalists pressed the two police ponies closely but hung back from him, seemingly intimidated by the armed and armoured pony. He decided to seize the initiative and set off at a determined walk towards the village, acted as a sort of icebreaker. Sure enough, they parted before him, and while a couple followed determinedly, the rest quickly gave up and resumed their half-hearted staring contest with the guards. And there's only ever going to be one winner there!
He slowed a little as they re-entered the town; Ponyville was a pretty small place, but he knew he couldn't find the police station again with any certainty. Autumn Breeze gave him a questioning look, but Nightjack simply strolled past with a distant, thoughtful look on his face. He had the trick of making his advance look casual, but there was a certain proprietorial deliberateness to his step which made it implied absolute and unquestionable authority. That confident air seemed to transfer itself to the few ponies which skulked around the streets; whereas before they had kept to the sides of the road, almost darting from house to house, when they saw the imperturbable Sergeant proceeding down the street they gradually drifted into a closer semblance of normality. Nervous eyes watched their progress from the windows of the houses, adding to the paranoid atmosphere.
Nightjack led them through the front door of the station, lifting the hinged top of the public counter out of the way to let them pass through into the tiny custody area where they found the remaining Unicorn guardspony engrossed in an old magazine. Behind him, Applejack lay slumped on the narrow cot in her cell, her face turned to the wall.
“At ease, Private, at ease,” said Shining Armour when the Unicorn leapt to his hooves. He and Autumn Breeze paused in the middle of the room, waiting for some cue from their local pony.
“All quiet here?” Nightjack asked, jerking his head toward the cells.
“Not a peep, sir. She's barely even moved.”
“Good, good.”
Nightjack wandered absently around, collecting pens and a bewildering array of forms in his magic, and at the same time emptying the pockets of his coat of odds and ends and unused evidence bags. Finally, he let out a tired sigh and addressed the Private again.
“Tell you what, the kitchen's just through there. You wouldn't make us a brew, would you?”
The surprised Private's eyes darted to Shining Armour as he replied, “Err... sure.”
“Excellent, good lad. Make one for Applejack as well, she probably needs it.” He turned to the prisoner and called her name. “Applejack? Applejack!”
After a moment, she raised her head off the thin pillow but didn't turn around. “Yeah?”
The mare's voice was hoarse and scratchy, and Shining Armour didn't need to see her face to know that she'd been crying.
“We need to interview you about what happened last night,” Nightjack said in a gentle voice. “Do you have a lawyer who can you can call?”
“I don't need no lawyer.” Applejack's voice was soft, but even those five words were laced with despair.
“Applejack, you need a lawyer,” Nightjack said firmly. “This is very serious and you need to have a lawyer who can help you. If you don't have a lawyer, I can arrange one for you.”
There was a long silence. “Diamond Dazzle, I guess. She's done lawyerin' for the Apple family fer years.”
“Filthy Rich's wife? Well, fine, I'll call on her and ask her to come down.”
Applejack nodded and lowered her head back onto the pillow. Nightjack puffed out his cheeks and turned back to the others.
“Look, I need to go and fetch Diamond Dazzle. I also need to go and break the news to Silver's best friend; if she has to find out from anyone, I'd rather she found out from me – especially with Red Top and the rest of the circus on the loose in town. I'll try to get back as soon as I decently can, but can I leave you to hold the fort? I'm sorry about this, but-”
“It's all right, Nightjack, get moving,” said Autumn Breeze. “We'll be ready when you get back.”
The Sergeant nodded his thanks, but Shining Armour stopped him at the door. “Sergeant? Would it help if I had a squad sent down to guard the scene overnight? I think everypony's had a long enough day already without trying to stay up all night, too.”
Nightjack's relief was almost palpable. “Could you? I thought they'd all gone back to Canterlot?”
“If I can find my sister's assistant, I can send a message and they should be here within a couple of hours.”
“Brilliant – do it! And I'd like to know where your sister's got to, if Spike knows. We need to talk to her, too – and soon.”
“I'll get right on it; there's just one thing?”
“Oh?”
Shining Armour gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah – can you show me where she lives?”
=====// \=====
Shining Armour found himself facing a wooden door set into gigantic tree. While it was a big tree, and other windows dotted its trunk, it was a little hard to believe that the sign really could indicate Ponyville's library. Maybe they don't read much, here? Either that, or it's a whole lot bigger on the inside, somehow.
His knock was answered by a chubby little purple dragon, whose slit -like pupils widened at the sight of the armoured stallion. “Whoa! Shining Armour ? What are you doing here?”
Shining Armour grinned. “Hey Spike! Good to see you too, little dude!”
Spike made a face at the nickname but pulled the door wide open anyway. “Eh, sorry. It's just that I haven't seen you in ages and... well, come on in.”
Strangely, the library really was bigger on the inside. He found himself in a wide-open space lined with shelves stuffed with books, and followed Spike past a set of stairs and into a little kitchen at the rear.
“So, I guess you were here with the Princesses yesterday?” said Spike cautiously, rummaging in the cupboard for some biscuits.
“Yeah. Things have kinda got a little more complicated since then, though.”
Spike paused in the midst of his explorations before straightening up and turning back to him. “Look, do you know where Twilight is?” he asked anxiously. “She ran off in a panic last night about the Princesses and she hasn't come home since, and... well, I'm getting kinda worried.”
“Yeah, about that. She was sleeping it off over at Applejack's this morning, but now I'm looking for her, too,” he said gravely. He took a deep breath before continuing. “There was a pony killed last night, Spike. We're pretty sure that Twilight found him.”
Spike slumped against the countertop, sadness washing over his scaled features as a long, slow sigh leaked out of him. “Do I want to know who?”
“It was a stallion called Silver Braise. He was found-” He started to explain, but Spike flinched at the name and let out a pained groan.
“Aw, no way! He's... he was a really good guy. We sort-of hung out a few times. He even did some work on the library not long ago. Damn it!” The little dragon ran a paw across his face, looking almost angry. “He took a lot of crap from some ponies around here, recently. Is there any chance that they... I mean-”
“They don't know yet,” he said carefully. “To me, there's no way a pony did that. The poor guy died really badly, Spike, but what do I know?”
A look of horror crossed Spike's face, and he had to swallow before speaking. “Then maybe it wasn't ponies at all. Oh, damn it. Damn it, Twilight busted her flank on this! It'll kill her if she was too late.”
“Too late for what, Spike?” he demanded, unable to keep his frustration out of his voice. “So far, nopony's told me anything, not even Princess Celestia!”
Spike gave him a strangely considering look before replying. “Then maybe she ought to be the one to tell you. I'm sorry, Shining Armour, it's just that the Princesses have been so paranoid about secrecy this whole time... why exactly are you here, anyway?”
He tried to restrain an indignant snort. “I'm really not sure, other than Princess Celestia wanted me to observe the investigation and report back to her. The problem is, I don't know what I'm looking for, or why.”
Spike nodded. “Then she has her reasons and it's best I let her keep it that way. Sorry, but if she wants you to know, she'll tell you.”
Shining Armour waved a hoof dismissively, trying to reign in his frustration. “Just let me know as soon as Twily turns up; I'll be at the police station. And I could do with sending a couple of messages to Canterlot if you're up for it?”
Spike leapt into action, apparently pleased to be faced with something he could help with. “No problem! If there's one thing I can find you around here, it's a pen and paper.”
=====// \=====
It took him quite a while to write up a summary of the day's events, and a little longer to draw up an order for a Pegasus squad to be detached to Ponyville for guard duty. Convinced that he was keeping Nightjack and Autumn Breeze waiting, he nevertheless took the time to scribble a quick note to Cadence as well before Spike's magical green fire sent the fat packet on its way to Princess Celestia, and he hurried the short distance back to the police station.
In fact, he found Autumn Breeze hock-deep in writing a report and Nightjack nowhere in sight. Applejack remained unmoving in her cell, the only change being a cup of tea sitting untouched on the metal table bolted to the wall just inside the bars, gradually filming over as it cooled. Instead of interrupting the busy Inspector, he settled for checking on his monumentally bored and exhausted-looking Unicorn cohort.
“All right there, Private? Humbug, isn't it?”
“Yes, sir. Echo Company, Second Destriers.”
“Sergeant-Major Honeysuckle's mob, eh? How are you holding up, there, Humbug? It's been a long day.”
“It was a long day yesterday and it's only gotten longer since, sir. I'm starting to feel it a bit, I gotta say,” the Unicorn admitted.
I know how you feel , thought Shining Armour. “Well, when Sergeant Nightjack gets back we'll find somewhere for you to bunk up for the night. Good work today, Humbug; if you want to find somewhere to take a load off, we can hold the fort here in the mean time.”
“Really? Well, I'm not going to argue with you, sir! Even that other cell's starting to look good – what do I have to do to get locked up for, oh, about 12 hours or so?”
Shining Armour grinned. “I don't think we'll need to go that far. Did you get anything to eat, earlier?”
“Yes, sir, the Corporal shouted us all sandwiches from that bakery place around the corner. Even better, the others left the muffins behind!”
“Good. Make yourself comfortable, just don't close the cell door. I don't want to have to file through the bars to get you out of there.”
There was the scrape of hooves on the floor and a familiar voice said, “And why are you destroying my custody suite?”
“In case Humbug locks himself in your cell,” Shining Armour explained.
The old tan stallion walked over to the custody desk and sat down with a thump. “I could always just unlock it, you know.”
“Where's the fun in that?” said Autumn Breeze, looking up from her work. “How did you get on?”
Nightjack sighed, slowly rubbing his nose with a tired foreleg. “Let's just say that it could have gone better. Summer Clip – the victim's best friend – already had half an idea, thanks to some horrible little twerp of a reporter nosing around. When she'd had a good scream and shout at me, she threw me out.”
Autumn Breeze gave him a sympathetic look. “That bad, huh?”
Nightjack sighed again. “She's a bit spit-and-vinegar at the best of times, so I was half-expecting it anyway, but they were really close. In the end, I fetched one of her friends around to look after her; there was no way she was going to listen to me.”
There was an awkward silence as Nightjack zapped the teapot cooling on the table in front of Autumn Breeze and poured himself a cup. He brought it over to himself in his magic and took a long, deep draught. “Now that,” he said, with an air of great satisfaction, “Is a bloody awful cup of tea.”
“Er... sorry, sir, but it's been stewing quite a while. I can make you a new pot if you'd like?” said Humbug awkwardly.
“Don't you dare! Do you know just how hard it is to get good, proper, old-fashioned police tea these days? The sort of stuff that's been boiled orange for a week in a pot that tastes like a hoofball player's saddle blanket? With the little crunchy white bits from the kettle which hasn't been de-scaled since Starswirl was a school-foal? Bluebell, bless her, even drinks this herbal fruit tea that comes in little bags – awful stuff, just awful! This is the tea of late nights and double-shifts-”
Autumn Breeze interrupted his tirade with a smile. “The stuff real Stations run on, yeah, yeah. Maybe back in the Paleopony Period when you were based in Trottingham!”
“I'm sure Trotland Yard would grind to a halt if you couldn't get your double-mocha-lattes or whatever it is you Canterlot types drink these days,” Nightjack harrumphed in mock-indignantion. Autumn Breeze just laughed.
Feeling that he ought to get things back on track, Shining Armour asked, “And what about the lawyer?”
“The lawyer? Ha, the lawyer!” Nightjack chuckled bitterly, as the momentary flicker of cheer drained out of the room again. “She hemmed and hawed and eventually, 'Sorry, I'm too busy to take on an indictable-only case'. Oh, I don't know, maybe she is. It just sounded like she couldn't be bothered fronting an unpopular cause. Harsh, perhaps, but this case is going to be about as popular as Nightmare Moon at the Summer Sun Festival.”
“Does Ponyville have another lawyer you could bring in?” Autumn Breeze asked.
“Mr. Waddle still does a little conveyancing but he's mostly-retired now. He hasn't touched this sort of thing in more than ten years, anyway. We'll have to bring somepony in from outside – Canterlot, probably.”
“I don't need no lawyer,” came a soft voice from behind them. Everypony turned to see Applejack sitting up on her bed, although her head still hung low and her Stetson shaded her face. “Ain't much to explain, anyhow.”
With a glance at the others, Nightjack got up and walked over to the bars. “You see, that's where I think you're wrong, Applejack. You need somepony to look after your interests, no matter how simple you might think this is.”
“And you ain't doing that, jus' now? C'mon, Nightjack, you really wanna sit here on yer plot, waitin' for some fancy-schmancy lawyer-type to sashay on down from Canterlot? Let's just get it over with.”
Nightjack looked stumped at her obstinate refusal to accept help.
“You can't make her, Nightjack,” Autumn Breeze pointed out. “At the end of the day it's her decision.”
The Sergeant blew out his cheeks and shrugged. “Have it your way, Applejack. I'll get the interview room set up.”
=====// \=====
>>> Click Here <<<
=====// \=====
RECORD OF INTERVIEW
Pony interviewed: APPLEJACK
Signature of interviewer producing exhibit:
NIGHTJACK
AUTUMN BREEZE
SHINING ARMOUR
NIGHTJACK
APPLEJACK
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-----END OF TRANSCRIPT-----
=====// \=====
Author's Note
To see this chapter as intended, >>> Click Here <<<
=====// \=====
Shining Armour sat in stony silence as Nightjack escorted Applejack out of the meeting room, glaring through aching eyes at the Pegasus pony calmly jotting down notes beside him.
“Problem, Colonel?” Autumn Breeze asked coolly, after the door had closed.
“Yeah, I've got a problem! Was that really necessary? From what she said, there's absolutely no way that she killed him, but you're letting her go on thinking that she did.”
“She was plausible, yes, but there's a lot of loose ends to tie up before we can say one way or another. Obviously you believe her?”
Shining Armour waved a hoof agitatedly. “Of course I believe her! She's the Element of Honesty, after all.”
Autumn blinked. “The Element of Honesty?” she repeated in surprise.
“Yes ! Good grief, have you been living under a rock or something for the last two years?!”
Autumn sat back for a moment, thinking. “Then maybe that makes her more than plausible. It still doesn't mean she didn't kill him, Colonel, except perhaps she's looking at ponyslaughter rather than equinicide.”
“What?” He could feel a thumping headache coming on behind his eyes, and he couldn't summon the mental energy to deal with semantics.
Autumn shook her head and tried again. “Say she's completely right; she still freely admits to kicking the tar out of a badly-wounded pony who subsequently died. And I agree, I don't think that one pony could have inflicted all those wounds – especially not without turning up in front of all those Guardsponies of yours absolutely covered in blood. But that doesn't mean that he didn't haul himself outside and die, and then something came along and nibbled on him later. Maybe even that creature she was talking about. The autopsy's going to be critical in determining which wounds were ante- and post-mortem. And I for one don't fancy telling a pony that they're home free only to have to haul them back in the next day, not on something like this.”
Shining Armour said nothing, fuming but knowing that the Pegasus was completely right.
Autumn let out a sigh and continued in a gentler voice. “Look, there's the warm, fluffy side of policing where you're out there finding lost foals and helping old ponies across the street, and then there's this. I can't afford to pussyhoof around here, leaving gaps and not asking questions because somepony's feelings might get hurt. This isn't a popularity contest; I need to understand exactly what happened and the precise circumstances. When all's said and done there's still a pony dead, and I owe it to him and his family to find out what happened.”
Unable to think of a decent counter argument, he blew out his breath between clenched teeth and tried to count to ten. “I either need some sleep, or the largest coffee in Equestria,” he growled shortly.
Recognising the abrupt change of subject, she nodded and let it go. “I don't know about the former, but surely we can do better than the muck Nightjack was drinking earlier?”
“That's the finest ambrosia a true police pony could ask for,” came Nightjack's tired voice from the corridor. He strode back into the room, a pen and notepad trailing in his wake. He pushed the door closed behind himself before adding, “Although I appreciate your lack of discernment, Autumn.”
“That's because it means there's more for you,” she retorted. “You're welcome to it!”
Nightjack chuckled, then broke off into a shuddering yawn, slapping the notepad down on the table. “Well, what did we make of all that, then?”
Autumn shrugged. “It's quite a tale. I think she believes it, although I'm not convinced that I do – not yet, anyway.”
“You came on a little strongly, a few times,” Nightjack noted mildly.
While Shining Armour would have put it more strongly than that, he decided to keep quiet and see where they went with this. At any rate, Autumn didn't seem to take any offence.
“Oh well, I guess that makes me 'Bad Cop'.”
“You think I'm going easy on her?” Nightjack pressed.
“You know her, so you have a better idea how to get stuff out of her. I think between us we got everything we were going to get – at this stage, anyway.”
Nightjack grunted. “I did wonder if I ought to step aside from this one. I've known Applejack and her family ever since I came here. I don't think we can afford accusations of partiality.”
Autumn's ears flattened. “Oh Celestia, please no! We're ridiculously under-staffed as it is, and we need somepony who knows their way around this manor! No offence, but Bluebell seems a little... new.”
“She's got good instincts and a good heart,” Nightjack defended his Constable, before adding grudgingly, “But you're right, she is inexperienced. You probably noticed that I kept her busy away from the scene today; I probably shouldn't have, but she's just so darn young .”
“It's still part of the job, even if it doesn't come around very often,” Autumn noted. “Maybe that even makes it more important for her to learn.”
Nightjack sighed. “You're right, of course. I'll have to apologise to her later. Now, back on topic; next steps?”
“Twilight Sparkle, then those three foals. If they corroborate Applejack's story, then that alone will probably get her off a murder charge.”
“Autopsy permitting, I agree. We really need to talk to Fluttershy, too, although it might be best if I interview her. I think she'll clam up if a stranger tries. They'll get her for something, though,” said Nightjack, scribbling notes on his pad as he scratched his cheek absently.
“Who's they?”
The other two turned to Shining Armour in surprise, exchanging a glance on the way. After a moment Nightjack explained. “Charges aren't down to us, Colonel; we present the evidence file to the Chamber of Justice and they decide what charges to bring, and prosecute them in court.”
“At the very least, she's admitted under caution to assault occasioning actual bodily harm. A lawyer would probably have shut her up, but I think we'd have got there in the end, anyway. Those hoof-prints on the body would be awfully hard to explain away,” Autumn added.
“On his shoulder? That looked nasty, and with the head wound that might take it to GBH,” Nightjack agreed, nodding. “There's the broken leg, as well, but I doubt they'll be able to say definitively on that one.”
“So she's going to be doing time?” Shining asked, a sinking feeling in his stomach. As if things weren't bad enough already, Twilight was going to be devastated – not to mention Applejack's family.
“The only way she isn't is if they decide to let it drop – and I really can't see that happening. It's just going to be a question of how much,” said Nightjack.
Shining Armour shook his head. “You know, I could almost see myself doing the same thing if it was my little sister.”
“That doesn't make it right, unfortunately,” Autumn said adamantly. “She'll be allowed a plea in mitigation, but we're getting way out ahead of ourselves in the what-ifs.”
“Right. Sorry,” he muttered, slumping back in his chair.
The two police ponies discussed the case back and forth for the next three-quarters of an hour, dissecting the evidence and deciding on plans of action and lines of enquiry while Shining Armour did his best to make himself invisible. It gave him time to think, but his thoughts kept flying away from him like skittish birds, and he kept catching himself nodding off. It was the inactivity, he decided; it was easy enough to keep going when you were tired, but the moment you stopped the body tried to switch itself off.
He had somehow slipped from Applejack's defence of her sister to Twilight to Cadence's upcoming birthday when they were finally interrupted by a heavy pounding at the front door in a familiar patten as old as time. Shave and a manecut – ten bits .
Autumn's eyebrows shot up. “Please tell me that's a pizza delivery?”
Shining Armour hauled himself to his hooves. “I think that this one's for me. Excuse me.”
“Hey, I'd settle for a burrito?” Autumn called after him. He heard a weary chuckle from Nightjack as the door swung closed.
He found his way back to the front desk, via an unexpected wrong turn into a broom cupboard, and unbarred the door before swinging back the upper half. As he expected, a heavily-armoured Pegasus pony stood outside, a squad of Guardsponies in two neat ranks behind her. The red-and-blue plumes in her helmet said Second Airborne, and the yellow trim on her harness told him Alpha Company. “Sergeant Crusher?” he guessed.
“Reporting as ordered, sir,” the mare confirmed, with a crisp salute. Behind her, a few half-hearted flashbulbs flared from die-hard reporters loitering outside. He ignored them and returned her salute,
“Thank you, Sergeant. Fall your ponies out and come on in.”
The tramp of many iron-shod hooves followed him into the public waiting area. It was far too small for so many ponies but at least it got them off the street. Ducking back into the custody area, he found the two police ponies emerging from the interview room.
“The squad I requested has arrived; I really ought to get them out to the scene and brief everypony before it gets too dark.”
“We probably ought to head back out there, too,” said Autumn, with a glance out the small window at the darkening sky. “The teams must be getting close to wrapping up by now.”
Nightjack checked the clock. “Yes, it is getting on a bit, isn't it? I think we may as well call it a day when we get back. The autopsy will be later tonight, Colonel – are you joining us for that, too?”
“Err... not if I can help it?” said Shining Armour with a nervous, sickly grin. He'd seen more than he ever wanted to see that morning, already. “I think I'll settle for reading the report.”
“Fair enough. I don't know if you have somewhere to sleep tonight, but I might be able to find somepony who can put you up – Bluebell's mother has a spare room, I know...,” Nightjack trailed off, but Shining Armour hurried to reassure him.
“It's all right, I'll stay at Twilight's. And if I can't then I'll just have to doss down in the Berry's barn with the troops. It's not a problem.”
“Good. Well, let's get cracking, then.”
=====// \=====
For the second time that day, Shining Armour found himself knocking on the door of the library that his sister called home. To his complete lack of surprise, he had made the journey out to the scene only to find that Corporal Oak Heart had set a watch, organised a roster, bulked up the clouds overhead which acted as their lookout platform, and settled the off-duty Guardsponies down in the barn at the top of the hill for some shut-eye. It was a relatively simple matter to top up his shielding enchantment, and leaving Sergeant Crusher to settle her squad in with Oak Heart's didn't really require his input, but one of the duties of an officer was to stand around and give these sorts of proceedings a veneer of oversight and authority. All in all, Oak Heart seemed a more-than-capable mare, and he had made a mental note to ask her officers more about her; she could be in line for another 'hook', at least.
The police ponies seemed equally satisfied with their arrangements, and as the two Flying Squad carriages departed again for Canterlot, they set out for Ponyville Hospital and the autopsy of the body being carried in the ambulance in front of them. That was a duty that Shining Armour had been more than happy to avoid. As it was, he could tell that the day's sights and smells would give him many sleepless nights in the future.
For now, though, all he wanted was a bed – or failing that, even just somewhere to stop . He could sleep on his hooves if he had to, but the urge to rest had become an overwhelming imperative. Luckily, the little dragon who appeared in the doorway seemed to have read his mind.
“Hey. I thought you might be back. Guest bedroom's made up for you,” Spike said in a low voice.
“Spike, I could kiss you – but somepony might get the wrong idea!”
Spike chuckled, stepping back to clear the way. “Long day?” he asked, as Shining Armour trooped inside.
“It started at 0630 yesterday, so yeah. Has there been any sign of Twily?”
“Yeah, Big Macintosh brought her home a couple of hours ago. I was thinking I should go and find you, but she just went straight up to bed. Barely even spoke to me,” Spike said quietly, leaning back against the closed door.
“I think she's had a pretty rough couple of days.” Which is probably an understatement. If Princess Celestia has been relying on her to find and stop this thing, she'll have worked herself silly – she always does. And then she finds a friend of hers like that. Huh, a friend, or that kind of friend? No, wait, his fillyfriend turned up there this morning, didn't she? Great Celestia, that doesn't even bear thinking about-
“...Ground Control to Colonel Shining Armour? Is there anypony home?
With a jerk, he realised that Spike had been talking to him. “Sorry, Spike, I missed that. If I stay still for too long right now, I start to take root. Is everything all right?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, just... kinda worried about her, you know? I don't really know what to do.”
“Just keep doing what you always do – keep being her friend.”
“Huh. Well, I can worry about that in the morning. I'll show you upstairs.
He followed Spike back through the library, trying to keep his hoofsteps from echoing too loudly on the wooden stairs. The door to the right on the landing was firmly closed, but Spike led him to the left and into a little room. It was a bit girly for his taste but he barely noticed, fixating instead on the alluring figure of the bed dominating the middle of the room.
“Thanks, Spike.” With a sigh, he lifted off his helmet and set his magic to unbuckling the straps of his breastplate.
“No problem; bathroom's the next door over if you need it. G'night.”
“Good night.”
He watched the door close as he pulled off his armour. Normally he'd have a ponnequin to set it on, but tonight he settled for piling it in a relatively neat heap beside the dresser.
He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.
=====// \=====
He awoke in total darkness. Blinking, he raised his head off the pillow and listened for the noise which had roused him. A moment later he heard it, the soft rasp of hoof on wood, followed by a slow, rhythmic clunk of somepony descending the stairs. Twilight. Got to be .
He lay there for a while, cataloguing the state of his body. His headache had gone, and also the irritating twitch under his left eye. While his eyes no longer burned with the strain of staying open, his sinuses felt dry and taut and his throat rasped painfully when he swallowed. I need a drink. And it can't hurt to see how she's doing .
Pushing off the covers, he swung his legs out of bed and fumbled his way cautiously to the door. He felt the shape of the handle through his magic and swung it open before extending his magical senses to stretch out before him like a blind pony used their cane. Even so, he nearly tripped on the second-last step.
Finding his way to the kitchen, he took a long drink from the tap before returning to the main library area. There, in a shaft of moonlight, the figure of a pony slumped on its belly beside a large, circular table buried in books and crowned with a bust of a pony's head. Pausing for a moment, he quietly walked over and lowered himself down beside her in silence, tucking his legs beneath himself.
They sat together on the cool, unyielding floor for a long time – not speaking, just being there. In fact, he'd almost drifted off again when he felt a pressure across his withers and turned to see Twilight's head resting on him. His cheeks twitched into a rueful smile; it was a familiar scene for both of them from long ago, but back then it had been foalish nightmares and playground bullies that she sought his comfort from – the sort of things that a big brother could help with. Those days were long behind them, now, and he felt himself floundering in uncomfortably deep waters.
“I'm glad you're here.”
Her voice was soft and scratchy and laced through with weary resignation.
“Any time you need, Twily, I'm sure you remember that? Princess Celestia sent me. She thought you might need some help.”
Twilight sighed. “It's too late for that. Too late for... for one pony, anyway.” Her voice cracked huskily on the last few words.
“Yeah, I know.” He paused uncomfortably for a moment. “She also asked me to report on the police investigation. I spent the day trailing around after them. It's something I'd really rather not think about.” He winced as he realised his indiscretion. Nice going, Starswirl, like it isn't a hundred times worse for her?
She didn't reply but he could hear her breathing, slow and ragged in the darkness.
“Twily, it's not your fault,” he said gently.
“I should have-”
“It's not your fault, OK? So don't start with the guilt and recriminations.”
“You don't understand,” she said miserably. “I had months to prevent this, and I was too slow. Too slow by an hour, maybe less.”
“Are you saying you didn't do your best? Come on, Twily, you know I don't believe that. Spike told me that you busted your flank on this. You can't be expected to know everything, find everything. In the end, you're just one pony. A pretty awesome one, but one pony all the same.”
He heard a sniff in the darkness. “Princess Celestia knew. I think she knew all along, she just couldn't bring herself to believe it.”
“Then she's probably feeling what you're feeling right now.” He repressed a shudder. “She called me up to Dawn's Greeting tower at sun-up a few days ago and said that there was somewhere she had to go. She wouldn't tell me anything else, wouldn't take an escort, just launched herself off and flew away east. I had no idea what was going on until yesterday afternoon, when she got back. She was... well, terrifying. I nearly had to go and change my armour.”
“I saw,” Twilight whispered.
“You didn't,” he said, “You saw her a few hours and a good flight later, after she'd had time to calm down a bit. Once my ears had stopped bleeding, I was to organise as many Guardsponies as I could muster, arm them to the teeth, then fly off towards Ponyville and 'follow the sign' – whatever that meant. Then she stomped off towards the private wing.”
There was a long silence which both of them were unwilling to break. He felt the warmth of her shoulder press against his and hoped that it gave her some measure of reassurance. Eventually, she stirred slightly. “What happened after I... well, I guess you'd gone by then, but, uh-” she floundered hesitantly.
“You appeared right in front of some of our reserve, and they took you in and got you to the medical tent. From what they could get out of you, somepony was in trouble in a silver workshop, so they sent a detachment into town to find out where that was, and then went and investigated. They found... well, I guess you know what they found. It was the middle of the night, so they mounted guard over it and sent for the local police at dawn.”
“Mac said that they arrested Applejack.”
He sighed. “She didn't give them much choice. She asked after him, then straight-out admitted it. They couldn't let that slide.”
“But... she couldn't have. Nopony could have done that to him. It must have been the creature – that's exactly what we'd been afraid of all along, and... I was too late.”
He could feel her start to shake and he rested a foreleg over her heaving shoulders. “I don't know about any of that, but for what it's worth, I'm pretty sure they don't think she killed him.”
Twilight sniffed back her tears. “It's all just a complete mess!”
“Applejack? Like I said-”
“All of it! The creature, and Silver, and Applejack, and the whole works! W-we thought it might have been him, at first. Him or Summer. And then it didn't seem likely but there was always this little doubt and other ponies noticed and they started to give them a hard time and-” she broke off and took a deep, wet breath. “And I knew it couldn't have been them. Applejack knew, but all it took was her sister to go missing and some bad timing and some bad luck, and now he's dead.”
“They told me he was a friend of yours. Applejack's too.”
“He's... he was a good pony. Friendly, you know. He could be kinda charming when he wanted to be, but mostly he was just a nice, ordinary stallion. He-,” Twilight broke off abruptly and flinched like she'd been struck. “Oh. Oh, Goddess ! Cloud Kicker!” she moaned in a small, sick voice.
“His fillyfriend? Yeah, she came by the farm to see him mid-morning. Nightjack had to break it to the poor mare right there.”
There was no answer for a moment, but then Twilight surged to her hooves and started pacing the room restlessly. “Damn it, it's not right! It's not right !” she snarled angrily, “She stood up to the whole town for him and...” she broke off with a wordless shriek of frustration.
Stunned at her sudden outburst, he tried to calm her down but she wasn't listening. “Twilight-”
She rounded on him, anger still crackling in her voice. “They deserved to be happy! He deserved to have his whole life! I know I shouldn't say it because it sounds so foalish, Shiny, but how can it end like this?”
He looked at her steadily and kept his reply calm and quiet. “Because life's like that, sometimes, and there's not a darn thing you can do about it.”
His words seemed to take the wind out of her sails, and she stopped dead in her pacing. When she spoke, she was calm again, but there was steel back in her voice. “It isn't right. I'm going to catch this thing, Shiny. I'm going to spring Applejack and then I'm going to gather up the girls and the damn Elements themselves if needs be, and I am going to hunt this thing down to the ends of Equestria.”
“If I can help you, I will, but there's two problems with that right now. Firstly, it's four o'clock in the morning. And secondly, Applejack's going nowhere. She's in real trouble, Twily.”
“W-what?”
Again, he had caught her off-balance. He quickly laid out what the police ponies had told him the previous afternoon, and by the time he had finished, his sister had slumped back onto the floor, stuttering in disbelief. “In the end, they're right; whatever her motivation, Applejack did him some serious damage and freely admits to it. I mean, I really don't know enough about what's been going on here, but if you say this creature has been sniffing around looking for victims, what would it do if it found a pony that was hurt and maybe couldn't fight back?”
Twilight said nothing, but from what he could see of her face in the moonlight, he regretted thinking aloud.
“Look, the first thing to do in the morning to get in contact with Princess Celestia and find out how much you can tell the police. I think the more you can tell them, the better, from Applejack's point of view. And at some point, I need to talk to Princess Celestia and find out exactly what the hay's been going on around here recently.”
“You don't know?”
“No, they haven't told me a thing. I only know what I've picked up around here yesterday – which isn't much. Something that bothers me, though, is if this is some sort of wild creature that's responsible, what's to stop it happening again tonight? Everypony, even the Princesses, seem to think that it's all over and there's nothing to worry about any more?”
Twilight sighed. “That's because there isn't. It starts by taking little things as trophies here and there, and then after... after it's killed, it moves on. Maybe it hibernates or something for a while. And then, years later, it starts over again somewhere else. That's why it's so hard to predict. Maybe now that the Princesses know what it is it will make it easier.”
“Maybe,” he agreed absently, his mind whirling. It reappears after years? Just how long has this been going on? “How are you feeling, Twily? You really wiped yourself out.”
“All right, I guess. Mind you, I thought that yesterday and by the time Big Mac brought me home it was all I could do to crawl into bed.” She turned abruptly and headed off towards the kitchen. “Do you want a drink or something?”
He didn't particularly, but it wouldn't hurt to keep her company. “Sure.”
They were halfway down their mugs of tea, Twilight pushing her hoof around in little circles on the tabletop, when she said suddenly, “I'm sorry.”
“What for?”
“Dragging you up out of bed like this,”
“I already said, don't worry about it.” He cracked a half-smile. “Besides, I'm not around much any more, so you've got to take your chances when you can, right?”
She smiled in reply. “Well, thanks anyway. I really ought to let you get back to bed.”
He gave the contents of his mug a critical look, then downed the lot in one go. “You should think about it, too. Night, Twily.”
=====// \=====
Despite his interrupted night, he awoke through sheer force of habit at 0630 and stumbled downstairs to go for a run. Pulling open the door of the library, he found himself face-to-face with a pale-blue Pegasus who had a hoof raised to knock. Rose-coloured eyes blinked in shock, and a second later she was right up in his face.
“And where do you think you're going, buddy?”
“Er-”
“Hmm? 'Cos I know you aren't supposed to be in there!” the mare demanded angrily.
He was forced to pull his head back as far as it would go to avoid going cross-eyed. “Well, actually-”
“Oh yeah? Huh, real likely! Who are you, anyway?”
There was a genteel cough and a refined voice said, “If you'd let him answer, Rainbow, we may just find out.”
Thank you, whoever-you-are! Sanity at last! He took a step backwards so he could take in both the irate, hovering Pegasus and the beautiful white Unicorn behind her. Twily's friends, of course . He cleared his throat. “I'm Twilight's brother.”
“Twilight's brother?” the other two repeated together.
The Unicorn recovered first. “I didn't know Twilight had a brother?”
“What's the betting she doesn't?” snapped the Pegasus, before zooming off up to pound on an upstairs window. The Unicorn gave him a practised, rather appraising smile.
“My name's Rarity, my good sir, it's a pleasure to meet you.”
“Shining Armour,” he replied. Above them, the Pegasus started calling for Twilight to come out. “You're Twilight's friends? She's written a lot about you all.”
“Oh, how lovely-” Rarity began, preening her flowing, blue mane and batting her eyelashes, but she was drowned out by the rattle of a window shooting up and a familiar, grumpy voice ranting from above.
“The door , Rainbow! For the love of Celestia, use the darn door! Do I have to draw you a picture? Maybe I can get somepony to tattoo it permanently for you on the back of your pastern?”
“Hey, it's not my fault!” the Pegasus exclaimed indignantly. “There's somepony in the way down there claiming to be your brother. Rarity and I caught him sneaking out.”
“That's because he is my brother, now can I go back to bed? Please?”
Rarity's smile had become positively predatory at the confirmation of his identity, and he didn't fancy being in the vicinity of one of his sister's legendary strops so he made his excuses with a weak smile. “Well, I was just going for a run, so I'll leave you three to catch up.”
He side-stepped the Unicorn and set off at a canter, trying to convince himself that it was purely exercise and not headlong flight from the mildly terrifying Unicorn – and he didn't mean his sister! He slowed down to his usual pace as he turned the corner out of their sight and headed north along Mane Street. So, Twily had never mentioned him to her friends? Suddenly, he didn't feel so bad about not finding the right moment to tell her about Cadence!
=====// \=====
Dawn's light broke, as it always did at Sweet Apple Acres, across the rippling sea of apple trees stretching east and south to the Everfree Forest. Macintosh paused for a moment to see another day begin before turning back to his wagon and continuing to hitch himself in. He had no time for lollygagging around; most of the trees were in bloom but without his sister to help him, he would be lucky to finish the day's work by sun-down. Apple Bloom meant well, but she was just too young to help out – and besides, she had school to go to, anyway. Thankfully it was still relatively early in the season, but there was no way that he could handle apple-bucking season on his own. Applejack had better... well, she'd just better.
He was about to lean forward into his harness and head on out for the north-western orchard to see how the Golden Delicious and Braeburn trees were getting on when he heard the jingle of a light harness approaching, and moments later he spied Fluttershy trotting down the driveway. The dainty Pegasus had a little cart hitched on behind her, piled high with brightly-coloured boxes. When she pulled up alongside him, he could hear a deep, droning hum coming from them.
“Morning, Fluttershy,” he said quietly, with a gentle smile. She flinched a little and hid away behind the long fringe of her mane as she always did, and he felt the familiar jolt of regret that she somehow found him intimidating. Still, she did manage to mumble a quiet greeting of her own in that soft, breathy voice before an awkward silence grew between them.
“Is there something I can help you with?” he asked, feeling foolish. Fluttershy blushed a little, scuffing her hoof delicately in the dust.
“No. Well, yes – sort of. Um, I said to Applejack that I would bring my bees over to see if they would help pollinate your trees, but it's a little late now and I guess you've probably already done it so you won't need me,” she trailed off.
He stared at her in surprise for a moment. “Why, that's mighty kind of you, Fluttershy, I sure would appreciate it.”
One blue eye reappeared around the long, pink fringe. “Really?”
“Really,” he smiled reassuringly. “There's a whole lot o' things I need to do today and I'd be right grateful for help from anypony, especially with Applejack, well...”
“With Applejack away,” she finished for him in a curiously decisive voice. “You really need my help? I mean, I don't think I can buck apples or anything like that?”
He didn't want to admit it to her, but he'd never got along with bees – and he had the bee-stings to prove it. His tail twitched reflexively at the thought of the creepy little insects circling him threateningly. “If you can help with the bees, you'll be worth your weight in gold.”
“Okay.” Fluttershy blushed at his sincerity but looked pleased, too, and fell in by his side as he set off for the north-western orchard. Her narrow-wheeled cart bogged down a little in the soft, muddy patch past the second gate, but she struggled through without a word of complaint and his respect for her fortitude grew.
By the time they reached the little clearing around the gate of the north-west orchard, she even seemed to be enjoying herself. The sun was still too new to provide much warmth but birds greeted its light with full-throated enthusiasm, and a few even swooped down to flutter around her, chattering excitedly. Must be friends of hers , he thought, suppressing a smile.
“So, um, what now?”
“Now we see if your little friends will do the job for us. We got the Golden Delicious and Braeburns there in rows next to each other, and over the back there we got the Derbys and the Clopton Reds just coming into flower, too.”
“Okay.” She slipped out of her harness and lifted one of the buzzing boxes onto the ground. “Now, um, if you could just help me set the hives out, that would be really great.”
He hurried to help her, trying to ignore the louder, more eager tone coming from the hives. “Anywhere in particular? Facing the sun, or anything?”
“No, just there on the ground is fine, I mean, if that's OK with you?”
The job done, he turned to her expectantly... trying not to look like he was backing away. Fluttershy, though, simply started lifting the tops off the hives, calling out to the insects inside. “All right then, everybee, rise and shine! If you'd all just like to form up outside for me for a second, I have a little favour to ask you all?”
A yellow-and-black horde poured out of the hives, filling the air with their ominous buzzing, but instead of attacking their disturber they simply milled around in a thick swarm, covering the hives and the cart and even the ground while Macintosh calculated the most direct route to the millpond. Speed wouldn't be a problem; he reckoned even that loudmouth Rainbow Dash would be hard-pressed to keep up with him once he got going. In a contrast that he probably ought to find embarrassing, Fluttershy was hovering about halfway between the cart and the tree line, looking about as authoritative as he'd ever seen her.
“If I could just have your attention please, everybee? Now, we have a whole field here of delicious flowering apple trees and if it's all right with you, we'd like you to visit as many of them as you can today. You should be able to make lots of honey, so please try to visit as many different trees as you can and don't eat too much at once or you'll give yourself a thorax-ache. Now, um, if you'd all just like to follow me, we can get started?”
With that, she set off into the orchard and the massive swarm took flight. He watched in disbelief as she fluttered back and forth at treetop level with the comet tail of bees following her, peeling away in an orderly fashion on each pass to fall hungrily on the apple blossoms. Within minutes the air was filled with a blizzard of busy insects ferrying to and from the hives with their yellow cargo. He heard a soft giggle as she landed beside him, and he realised abruptly that he was catching... bees?
“Um, I hope that was OK?” she asked timorously.
He closed his mouth with a snap. “OK?” he repeated incredulously, “That's incredible! How did you do that?”
Fluttershy shrank back in on herself. “Oh! Well, um, if you explain what you want and it's the sort of thing that they do anyway, they usually do it. Mostly. I mean, some ponies say I have a way with animals, but it's just a matter of organisation, really.”
Darn it, ya big lunk, you know better than to startle her like that! “I'll take your word for it,” he said at last. “I know that when I try that sort of thing, I usually end up with half the trees missin' out and I'm pickin' stings outta my hide for a week.” He chuckled, spotting a chance to lighten the tone again. “That usually means me balancin' on a ladder dabbing at flowers with a little paintbrush, tryin' to do their job for 'em!”
To his delight, she laughed. “You know, maybe we could ask Rarity to make you up a little bee costume so that you don't scare the trees?”
He grinned at her. “I don't think it'd go with my yoke. What is it with gals and dressin' me up?”
Her eyes widened. “I'm sorry, Big Mac! I didn't mean-” she gasped.
“Now, don't you worry none about it, I was just havin' a little fun,” he reassured her. “Why, I remember once Applejack tried to talk into betting against her, but 'stead o' wagerin' chores if I lost, she wanted me to walk down Stirrup Street in one o' Granny's girdles!
She peeked out from behind her fringe again, a smile hovering on her lips. “A-and did you... you know?”
His smile widened. “Nope! She ended up scrubbin' down the wagons for a week instead. Normally I don't mind much, but that time I made an exception!”
That set her off giggling again, and after a few moments he reluctantly started to hitch himself back up to his wagon. “Well, I'm real sorry to leave you like this, but if I can leave you in charge of the bees, I really ought to be making a start on some other work 'round here.”
“Is it anything I can help you with?” she asked bravely.
He made a face. “Clearin' out irrigation ditches. 'Course you're always welcome, but takin' care of the bees and makin' sure these here trees are all pollinated would sure be a weight off of my mind. I'm jus' startin' yonder by the old mill pond and workin' my way back.”
“Oh. Okay,” she said in a low voice, her ears drooping.
“Although I'd be honoured if you'd join Granny and me for lunch?” he heard himself saying. “It's the least we can do after all your help this morning?”
She perked up again. “Thanks. I'd like that.”
“Any time, Fluttershy, you're always welcome.” He could feel himself starting to blush, and hurriedly shrugged his way into the harness. Bein' red sure has its advantages, sometimes . “Well, uh, I ought to be getting' on. Holler if you need me, I won't be far away.”
“Um, good luck, I guess?”
He had only gone a few paces when he stopped again and turned back to her. “Fluttershy? Can I ask you somethin'?”
“Sure, anything,” she said, looking at him curiously.
“Now, don't take this the wrong way, 'cause I'm right grateful you're here, but... given everything that's happened, I kinda expected that you'd be with Twilight and your other friends? I'm sorry, I ain't sayin' it right, but-”
“It's OK,” she said gently. She bit her lip and took a deep breath, the pink spots on her cheeks blooming. “You're right, there's a lot of awful things that have happened recently. I really can't do anything for Applejack right now and I know that the others will all be helping Twilight and I just thought, what about Big Macintosh? A-and Granny Smith and Apple Bloom? Who's thinking of them? And then I remembered arranging to bring the bees and I just thought, maybe there's something I can do that really will help somepony who's being forgotten?”
To his shock, he felt himself welling up. She really is the Element of Kindness, ain't she? “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. “That really means a lot.”
He had a lot to think about as he set off for the mill pond.
=====// \=====
Shining Armour paused outside the library and blew out his cheeks. Breakfast with his sister and her friends had been excruciating – in more than one way. After her sleepless night, Twilight had been almost monosyllabic, her face haggard and drawn. The Pegasus, Rainbow Dash was loud, brash, and boastful with him, but the second Twilight walked into the room, she became silent and watchful. In contrast the Unicorn, Rarity, was not only a shameless flirt but generally behaved like something out of the cheap, melodramatic historical romances that Cadence liked to giggle over occasionally, and while she surely meant well he wondered how long Twilight would tolerate her hamming it up. As it was he had nearly snapped at her to show some respect, and the mare looked strained and genuinely hurt. Maybe it was all an act, or a semblance of a carefree normality, but his patience was limited.
The streets of Ponyville looked busier than they had yesterday, the residents returning to a more normal life. A cream-coloured mare with a red mane and her pink, lime green-maned friend gave him a wave and a smile on the way past their flower stall, while shop owners were sweeping their doorsteps and setting out their wares. The street in front of the little police station was busy for another reason, however, and when the crowd saw his golden armour they surged toward him, hurling questions across each other.
“Can you comment on the Guard’s involvement in-”
“Have there been any developments overnight-”
“What can tell us about claims-”
“Colonel, can you confirm-”
Colonel? One of them has been doing their research, at any rate .
“Is it true that the investigation has been turned over to the CIA?”
“Has Princess Celestia made any comment on-”
He baulked at the flashbulbs flaring in his face before lowering his head slightly and boring straight through them to the Station door. As they had the previous day, they fell back at his advance but the volleys of questions continued. He contemplated just continuing inside but it just might be possible to stop the rumours before they got too wild.
He turned to face them at the door, and an expectant hush fell almost immediately.
“Good morning. My name is Colonel Shining Armour of the Royal Equestrian Guard. Now, I can see that you all have questions but I am afraid I am not in a position to answer them; however I can confirm that a separate inquiry is under way to determine whether the death of the victim is in any way related to Royal Equestrian Guard operations in the area at the time. The body was in fact discovered by a detachment of Royal Equestrian Guardsponies, and I am present to liaise with police and facilitate their interviews with the Guardsponies in question. In addition, the Royal Equestrian Guard is working with Ponyville Police to provide extra security at the scene. All aspects of the investigation remain in the hooves of the police and no comment on the on-going investigation will be made at this time. Thank you.”
The questions flew thick and fast but he turned his back on them and slipped through the station door. It was swiftly slammed shut and as he turned he heard bolts being slid across by the pale-blue Pegasus behind him.
“Feeding the animals, Colonel?” she asked, amused.
He made a face. “I hoped it might keep some of the more imaginative rumours in check. And I should have said yesterday, call me Shining Armour.”
“Likewise – I prefer Autumn.”
“Where’s Nightjack?” he asked, following her into the custody suite. He got a bright greeting from the Constable, Bluebell, who was collecting a tray from Applejack's cell. Great Celestia, she’s young!
“Out checking the scene; he wanted to make sure that nopony got creative overnight.”
“I should probably do the same,” he said. “That shield won't hold up forever.”
“He won’t be long, I don’t think. In the meantime, Bluebell has today’s papers for us.”
“Always make sure you know what the enemy are doing,” Bluebell said with a nod towards the table.
Autumn’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s awfully cynical of you, Bluebell! There may be hope for you yet!”
Bluebell giggled in response, rather ruining the impression of added maturity, while Shining Armour turned his attention to the newspapers scattered across the table. Unsurprisingly, the story was a front-page lead even despite the relative lack of hard facts.
The Trottingham Times went for a more slightly less conservative approach.
The Fox had outdone itself; the headline and sub-heading were in font so large that it took up almost the entire front page, and the only other 'headlines' were squeezed into two small boxes down the right side.
Meanwhile, the Herald had taken the peculiar journalistic resort of throwing random words into the headline which, while individually correct, resembled something of a cryptic crossword question when taken together.
Shaking his head at the abstruseness of their editor, he turned to the last one, a thin effort printed on the cheapest of newsprint. Even the effort of plucking it out of the pile left ink smudges on his hooves.
He blinked and checked the headline of the last paper again; the photo of a little filly scowled out of the page at him.
“The local schoolfoals run a newspaper. Occasionally it’s good for gossip,” Bluebell explained sheepishly.
“Uh... I think we can give this one a miss,” he said, dropping it back on the table.
“Then perhaps this might be more up your street,” said Autumnn, dropping a sheaf of typed sheets in front of him. “It's the report from last night; they got one of the night staff at the hospital to type it up for us and it's only just been delivered.”
=====// \=====
>>> Click Here <<<
=====// \=====
Dr Jimmy FEELGOODE
STATEMENT OF WITNESS
Statement of J. FEELGOODE, BSc, MB, BS, MRCPath, DipRCPath(Forensic)
This statement, consisting of 12 pages signed by me, is true to the best of my knowledge and belief, and I make it knowing that, if it is tendered in evidence, I shall be liable to prosecution if I have wilfully stated in it anything which I know to be false or do not believe to be true.
Dated 29 May 1002
THIS IS A CONFIDENTIAL REPORT TO THE CORONER AND SHOULD
INTERIM POST MORTEM REPORT
SC: 39/1002/cb
At approximately mid-day on the 28th May 1002, at the request of Canterlot Central Police, I attended the scene of a suspicious death near Ponyville.
Fact of Death : Having met with the Senior Investigating Officer, Sgt. NIGHTJACK, I then proceeded to examine the body itself for the purposes of verifying the fact of his death.
Page 1 of 12
SCENE EXAMINATION
The body was that of a young, adult Earth pony. He was lying on his right side with his head extended away from the body. His left foreleg was held straight in a line with the shoulder. His right foreleg was held slightly forward with the right elbow flexed. His back legs were extended out from the hips, the right leg slightly advanced, the left trailing and bent indicative of displaced compound fracture of the tibia and fibula just above the hock.
Clothing and Tack
Bloodstaining and contamination on exposed body surfaces
Adjacent scene
Rigor mortis
Signs of visible injury
Page 2 of 12
There was evidence between the ears of oedemacious tissue on the skull around a small laceration The formation of bruising in this area is consistent with a blow to the head.
Protective Clothing
I was logged out of the inner cordon at 19:19 hrs by DC [CENSORED]
POST MORTEM EXAMINATION
On the evening of the 28th May 1002 I attended the mortuary at Ponyville Urgent Care Hospital, Ponyville, in order to undertake a special post mortem examination on the body of Silver BRAISE.
Sgt. Nightjack, SIO
Photographs were taken under my direction. I performed the post mortem examination, assisted by Dr. A.N. DRAY, BS, MB, PhD, FRCS, MRCPath, Senior Consultant at Ponyville Urgent Care Hospital.
Scars: A large number of small, old scars were present on the pasterns and fetlocks of both forelegs. There was two old burn scars approximately the size of a Royal Bit on the inside of his front left cannon.
Page 3 of 12
Clothing: None
Signs of Treatment
Post Mortem Changes
SIGNS OF SHARP FORCE INJURY
Head and Neck
Shoulders and Barrel
Page 4 of 12
Fragments of wood and dirt were recovered from this wound, and superficial abrasions covering a total area of 5 cms x 5 cms were present on the front of the fetlock.
Belly and Hindquarters
Page 5 of 12
The left rear leg bore evidence of a compound displaced fracture of the tibia and fibula approximately 10 cms above the hock. Fragments of bone had penetrated the skin on the inner thigh.
General Remarks
OTHER SIGNS OF INJURY/MARKS UPON THE BODY
Head and Neck
Shoulders and Barrel
Right Fore Limb
Page 6 of 12
Left Fore Limb
Left Rear Limb
Right Rear Limb
INTERNAL EXAMINATION
Scalp : There was evidence between the ears of oedemacious tissue on the skull around a small laceration The formation of bruising in this area is consistent with a blow to the head. The scalp was stripped to the level of the nape of the neck posteriorly.Skull : The skull was of normal thickness, The dura was stripped and there was no skull fracture.Brain : The meninges and dural sinuses were unremarkable. The external and cut-surface appearance of the brain was normal. There was no aneurysm and no intracranial haemorrhage.Face : The facial soft tissues were dissected to the level of the bone and there was no evidence of soft tissue or bony injury.Mouth : There was a small abrasion consistent with contact against the teeth or biting of the lips on the lower lip in the midline. This was approximately 0.6 x 0.3 cms. There was no significant vital reaction. There was no other injury to the lining of the mouth. The teeth were natural and uninjured. There was some evidence of previous dental work. The tongue was unbitten.Neck : The neck structures were formally dissected in situ following full vascular drainage. The hyoid bone and thyroid cartilages were intact. The cervical spine was intact.Chest : The pleura were stripped. The ribs were flayed and there was evidence of extensive fresh rib fractures to ribs 3, 4, and 5. The pleural cavities contained significant amounts of blood and fluid. The left humerus was found to have sustained a complex fracture with significant bleeding into surrounding tissues. This corresponds to the area of bruising noted above.Lungs : The tracheobronchial tree was normal. The lungs were partially collapsed and contained significant amounts of blood and fluid. Several punctures to the lungs were evident, corresponding particularly to wounds (7) and (8) and also to the fracture of rib 4. In particular there
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was no evidence of infection, infarction, tumour or pulmonary embolus.Heart : The aorta was normal. There was no aneurysm. The major non-coronary branches were widely patent. The great veins were unremarkable. The pericardium, atria and valves were normal. The right and left coronary arteries were co-dominant. The left and right coronary arteries emerged from a striate sinus. The ventricular chamber dimensions were normal.Oesophagus : The oesophagus was bisected as per (2) above but was otherwise healthy and uninjured.Intestines : The mesenteries were normal. There was no evidence of peritonitis. The small and large intestines were normal. The appendix was present and appeared healthy. The small intestines were partially expelled through wounds (11) and (12) and some crushing and tearing of the expelled intestines was present.Liver : The liver showed pallor in keeping with blood loss but there was no focal abnormality. There was no macroscopic evidence of significant fibrosis. The gall bladder contained a moderate amount of relatively thin bile. There were no stones. The extrahepatic biliary tree was normal. The vascular structures of the porta hepatis were normal. The right lobe of the liver was transected vertically by wound (11) and the hepatic artery severed.Kidneys : The renal capsules stripped with ease to reveal smooth-surfaced kidneys showing cortical pallor in keeping with blood loss but no other abnormality. The pelves were not dilated. The ureters were of normal calibre.Bladder : The bladder contained a small volume of pale yellow urine. It was not cloudy. The bladder wall and mucosa appeared normal.Spleen : The spleen had a normal external and cut-surface appearance. It was uninjured. There was no significant lymphadenopathy.Endocrine Organs : The pituitary, parathyroid, thyroid, pancreas and adrenal glands appeared normal.Organ Weights :
Post mortem concluded at 00 17 hrs on 29 May 1002.
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EXHIBITS LIST – MORTUARY
The following exhibits were passed to DC [CENSORED] at the mortuary:
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TOXICOLOGY
At the time of completing this report, I have been provided with the following verbal information by Dr Pixie DUST, a forensic toxicologist from the Royal Forensic Laboratory:
HISTOLOGY
A total of 15 Haematoxylin and Eosin stained sections have been examined.
TIME OF DEATH ESTIMATION
The following estimate offered of the likely post mortem interval is based upon the temperatures recorded at the scene and computed with the aid of Henssge's nomogram as described in: Henssge, Knight, Krompecher, Madea and Nokes, The Estimation of the Time of Death in the Early Post-Mortem Interval: 2nd Edition, 972.
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CONCLUSIONS
The deceased was an apparently adequately-nourished male pony in whom there is no evidence of natural disease that could of itself have caused death directly at the macroscopic (naked-eye) level.
He has evidence of a number of significant incised wounds, which have severed the hepatic, gastric, and inferior mesenteric arteries and lacerated the left jugular and right femoral veins as well as causing major trauma to the lungs and abdominal cavity.
The arterial injury has resulted in the loss of a significant volume of blood as noted at the scene.
With the exception of the long, partially-dressed laceration to the left shoulder and foreleg, the complex of incised wounds are suggestive of having been inflicted by a bladed weapon triangular in cross-section and possibly curved or hooked. No weapon was found at the scene which would match the pattern of the injuries inflicted.
The geometry of the possible weapon is not inconsistent with the claw of a large predator, however the lack of tooth marks or missing flesh from the body indicates against this hypothesis.
The debris and wood fragments recovered from the laceration to the left shoulder and foreleg suggest that this may have occurred inside the workshop rather than where the body was found.
The fractures to the ribs and left humerus are indicative that this pony has been subjected to a violent assault prior to his death. Hoof marks are clearly present in the bruising around the affected area and indicate that at least one pony was involved. The disturbed nature of the deceased's workshop is suggestive of a violent struggle.
The widespread bloodstaining present inside the workshop may be explained by the presence of the bucket and the dilute nature of the blood found in this location. This is reinforced by the crude dressing of the laceration to the left shoulder and foreleg, suggesting that some first aid was attempted.
There is no evidence from the post modern or my observations at the scene to indicate that the deceased had been dragged or otherwise transported to the location at which his body was found. Thus it is logical that a period of time must have elapsed between the incident inside the workshop and a second assault where fatal injuries were inflicted.
I have undertaken subcutaneous dissection of the legs and there is no positive evidence of restraint-type injury.
There is no positive pathological evidence to indicate that he has been subjected to compression of the neck such as by manual strangulation, ligature strangulation or the use of a hold.
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The injuries to the left shoulder and foreleg, and also the fractures of the ribs and humerus show evidence of a well-developed vital reaction suggesting that they have been inflicted over a reasonable period of time (minutes rather than seconds or hours) before death. No or weak vital reaction was evident for the remainder of the wounds including the fractures of the left rear tibia and fibula, suggesting that they occurred at or about the time of death.
There is a lack of classical 'defence' wounds against a sharp weapon attack.
The minor abrasions over the head and right chest are entirely consistent with scraping against rough ground and stones which were present at the scene.
In accordance with current Chamber of Justice guidelines I have retained small samples of major organs for histological analysis. The minor findings in the lungs and the brain are in keeping with the cause of death.
The pathological investigation into the cause of death is now complete and have no further need for Mr. BRAISE's body to be retained.
In summary, it is my opinion that the main factor involved in bringing about the death of Silver Hammerbuck BRAISE is the bleeding from the multiple incised wounds to his body. Had this not occurred he may well not have died at this time. Therefore I give as the cause of death-
la. Haemorrhage
lb. Multiple injuries
[CENSORED – signature]
Dr Jimmy FEELGOODE
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=====// \=====
Author's Note
To see this chapter as intended, >>> Click Here <<<
=====// \=====
With slow deliberateness, he set the last page face-down on the pile and took his time straightening them up and setting the report out neatly, right side up, while he waited for the faintly nauseous feeling to pass. “I'll need a copy of that, later,” he said abruptly, still minutely aligning the report with the side of the table.
Autumn nodded. “Not pleasant reading, is it? The poor sod got worked over worse than I've ever seen. There's some interesting stuff in there, though, especially the parts about weapons and possible sequence of events. It sounds like it could well tie in with Applejack's story.”
He bit back an unkind retort. “And how is she doing this morning?”
The Pegasus shrugged. “Same as yesterday, really. I think Bluebell's tried talking to her, but she's barely said a word.”
“How much longer does this go on? We both know she didn't do it,” he said bluntly.
Autumn sighed. “Until this evening. The Prosecutor should be on the evening train from Canterlot; we'll know when he makes a decision. In the meantime, it's interviews, interviews, interviews. Your sister for one, those foals as well. Probably a few other ponies around here, too. And we definitely need to get statements from your Guardsponies.”
“Twilight's expecting you. Would it help if I asked my Guards to write their own statements, or would you prefer to do it under caution, and so on?”
“Their own statements will probably do. You have a decent idea of what we're interested in by now, so if you can ask any relevant questions I think that ought to cover it. And as for your sister, it's probably best if you give that one a miss. It's a bit too close to home.”
He'd been expecting that, anyway. “Fair enough. For now, I think I'd better go and see to my Guardsponies.”
=====// \=====
For the second time, Junebug raised her hoof to knock – and then lowered it again. What if she's asleep? What if she doesn't want to see me? And anyway, she's probably not in . It was only a moment before she told herself off firmly. Of course she does! If you're not prepared to help her at a time like this, you're not a proper friend at all . With that, she quickly rapped on the door before her nerve failed her again.
Several long moments passed. Do I knock again? Maybe she really is asleep? Just as she was about to turn away she heard the scrape of the lock and the door opened to reveal the exhausted, bleary-eyed figure of her friend. All thoughts of carefully-rehearsed condolences and speeches flew straight out of her head.
“Hi.”
Cloud Kicker looked at her blankly for a moment then turned and walked back into her house, leaving the door open. Cursing herself Junebug followed, stopping only to pull the door to behind her.
She stepped over the saddlebags discarded carelessly in the entrance to the main room and felt her way cautiously over to the sofa. The inside of the little flat was dark and gloomy, with the sun kept at bay by the still-drawn curtains. Cloud Kicker was standing by the little two-pony table jammed into the corner of the living room but didn't turn to face her. “I'm sorry, I suppose I should get the kettle on,” she said in a lifeless voice.
“Don't, it's all right,” said Junebug, jolted into action. “Would you like something, though? I can make it for you.”
Cloud Kicker said nothing, her head bowed.
“Cloud Kicker, when did you last eat something?” she asked firmly.
“Uh... yesterday, I think,” Cloud Kicker said vaguely.
That was enough to launch Junebug into action, and she trotted into the tiny kitchen and started rifling through the fridge feeling a surge of relief that she could do something tangible. “You need to eat. I'm sure you don't feel like it, but you do need something.” She filled the kettle and set it to boil, and pulled out some alfalfa and bread which still looked reasonably fresh. The domestic arrangements took a few minutes, but she set a sandwich on the table in front of her friend and then returned with a cup of tea heavily laced with sugar.
“Thanks,” the Pegasus said, with an empty smile. She stared at the sandwich for a moment, then mechanically started to eat. One hoof rested on the table beside a little box and, although trying not to pry, Junebug couldn't resist leaning in for a closer look.
The box was small but gleamed brightly even in the dim light, and its lustre didn't hide the intricate patterns set into it as Cloud Kicker's cutie mark stared back at her from each face. The words, 'That's beautiful', formed instinctively but died in her throat when she realised its likely source; there was only one pony who would have made that for her. Oh Celestia, what do I say to her?
“Did you get any sleep last night?” she blurted in a mild panic, realising that the silence had stretched out between them.
Could Kicker chewed and swallowed. “A little. I just... um...” She broke off, looking sick, and the sandwich dropped back onto the plate.
Junebug felt a sharp lurch in her heart. “You do know that if there's anything you need, you can come and see me, don't you? Anything at all, don't worry about the time or whatnot. Even if it's just a bit of a chat or some company.”
Cloud Kicker gave her a ghastly rictus of a smile, but despite the wavering in her voice her earnest reply told her that she was still grateful. “Thanks, June.”
“It's not much, I know, but... oh, bother!” she said awkwardly. “Have you told your parents?”
Cloud Kicker shook her head miserably/ “No. I don't know what I'd say,” she said in a hollow voice.
“Would you like me to write to them for you? Everypony needs their mum, sometimes.”
“Would you?”
“Of course. I'll get Ditzy to hoof-deliver it this afternoon.”
“Have you... how's Summer?”
Oh, Celestia! What do I say? “Devastated. And angry. Sergeant Nightjack came and fetched me yesterday. He had to break it to her and she didn't take it well. Not that she could have-” she broke off, feeling both helpless and furious with herself. She took a deep breath to gather her thoughts and continued. “She tried to throw me out at first, screaming and shouting all sorts. I won't say I calmed her down, but eventually I got her in off the street and, well... she just collapsed. Cried her eyes out. Nothing much I could do. Put her to bed. Made tea. I'm not much good at this,” she finished gruffly. To her surprise, the younger mare rested a hoof on hers.
“I should have been there. Some friend I am,” she sniffled.
“Cloudy, it's OK. I'm sure she understands.”
“But... but, I mean, she needed somepony. She knew him her whole life and-”
“Now, stop that. Of course she loved him, but you did, too.”
“But-”
“Cloudy, it's OK for you to hurt. It's not a contest over who knew him longest or loved him more. Just the fact that you did is enough; your heart knows how badly it hurts.”
Cloud Kicker let out a quiet sob, caressing the little box on the table gently, pushing it back and forth. She looked up and caught Junebug watching her. “H-he made this for me.”
“I'd guessed. It's really special,” she said gently.
“That's what I said. And he said, he said... I was a very special mare,” she finished in a strangled, keening voice.
Junebug's stomach clenched abruptly, driving all the air out of her lungs in a rush. “Oh, Cloudy!”
Two violet eyes like great wounds stared back at her, words tumbling out in jagged spurts between great, heaving gasps. “It was two days ago. We... went outside together and sat in the sun. Just me and him. It was beautiful. And I told him... I told him that ever since we met I thought he was cute and I had a bit of a crush on him. And as I got to know him, it became way more than that until I realised that I'd fallen for him in a really big way.
“And he told me... I was fun. I was the highlight of his day, and even when things were going bad he knew I would be there. And we could talk about stuff – serious stuff – too, and how much he valued that. And he trusted me. And then he gave me that smile of his; you know, that one? And said...,” she paused, fighting for breath, and a strange smile flitted across her face. “He said... 'Well, I always was a bit slow on the uptake'.”
Junebug wrapped a foreleg around the other mare's heaving shoulders, feeling sick and hopelessly lost. She was fleetingly glad to feel the face buried in her neck and the tears dampening her coat as it meant that Cloud Kicker didn't see the horror on her face nor need her to speak words that she knew would not come, and inwardly she cursed herself bitterly for such cowardice. What should have been a heart-warming anecdote brimming with optimism and the promise of future happiness for her friend had instead become a horrifyingly cruel reminder of what could have been – and just what had been snatched away from her, right as it began to fully blossom.
=====// \=====
Bluebell's naturally sunny disposition was somewhat dimmed as she trotted away from the familiar schoolhouse. She had fond memories of the place herself, even if Cheerilee had replaced old Miss Sunflower since her own school-days, but her morning's work had left her with a lot to think about on the short trip back to the station.
The teacher had been very helpful, setting up a room for her to use and providing a brief insight of what to expect from each filly. She had been happy to go along with Cheerilee's recommendations and sure enough, the little Pegasus she interviewed first had been hard work; uncommunicative and even a little surly. With patience, she had slowly teased the story out of her but it had been an uphill struggle all the way.
Sweetie Belle, the Unicorn, had been much more enlightening, although she still seemed a little stunned at just how things had unravelled so quickly. She was observant, though, and she fleshed out her account with a surprising degree of detail, especially for somepony so young. The margins of her interview notes were filled with stars against things to check or corroborate. That would also be a good prompt for her to talk to Sweetie's parents and older sister, and to remind them to be patient and supportive with her.
Apple Bloom, the last of the three, was a real sweetheart. The softly-spoken little filly was also the most badly-affected by her experiences, not only because it turned out that she had remained behind when the other two left and was their mysterious first-aider, but massive guilt over her sister's arrest. After she had finished with the interview she had spent quite some time with the little filly, trying to gain her confidence and ease some of her worry. It wasn't her job to be a social worker – not really, anyway – but Apple Bloom was in desperate need of support, and while she would see Big Macintosh and Granny Smith later to suggest they get her some professional help, it was also important that she knew that there were adults who would listen to her and help where they could, too.
Pushing through the front door of the Station, she snatched the hoof-scrawled 'Out on Business' sign off the counter and made her way through into the back, intent on a nice, soothing cup of raspberry-leaf tea while she wrote up her notes.
As the kettle started to bubble, she heard hooves approaching from the custody suite and a head with a blue-and-white-striped mane popped around the door frame. “Oh! Hallo, darling!”
Bluebell smiled reflexively. “Hi, Mum! Everything all right?”
“Yes, yes, fine. Just doing some house-keeping,” said the mare. Blueberry's coat, the same shade as her namesake, was smudged here and there with dust, and a cobweb lay plastered over one ear. “How Nightjack lets the place get into such a state, I do not know. I keep telling him I'm more than happy to pop around occasionally, but he never asks,” she clucked in mild indignation.
Bluebell hid a smile. Occasionally she wondered if her mother had a fancy for her boss, but Nightjack seemed either unusually oblivious or impressively tactful. Or a combination of both. Nevertheless, he did appreciate her willingness to mind the shop on the rare occasions when he and Bluebell were both out at the same time. With a mental shrug, she pulled down a second cup and bombed a teabag into it, too.
“Did anything happen while we were out?” she asked, pouring boiling water into the two mugs and mashing the bags vigorously with a teaspoon.
Blueberry huffed. “Some reporter tried to sneak his way in, but I caught him and sent him away with a flea in his ear. The nerve of some ponies!”
Bluebell's ears pricked up. “Really? Did you get his name?”
Blueberry snorted derisively. “He called himself Colonel Shine, or some much nonsense. I don't know where he got the Guard outfit, but it was quite convincing.”
Bluebell was just taking the first sip of her tea, but at her mother's indignant revelation, she choked, snorting it all over the place. Coughing, as her mother pounded her on the back with a look of long-suffering fond exasperation, she wiped her suddenly-streaming eyes to splutter, “That's because it's real.”
“What?”
“Colonel Shining Armour was asked to help us investigate by Princess Celestia herself! He's wearing a Guards uniform because he's Captain of the Royal Guard , for pony's sake!”
A mortified grin spread slowly across Blueberry's face. “I probably shouldn't have threatened to have him arrested and whacked him around the flank with my duster, then?”
“Mother! ” Bluebell wailed in exasperation.
“Ah. Whoops!”
=====// \=====
The jangle of the bell echoed around a deserted Sugar Cube Corner, drawing Mr. Cake out of the kitchen.
“Good afternoon, Rarity! What's your pleasure today?” he asked with his usual jovial warmth. “The apricot Danishes are fresh out of the oven just now?”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Cake, but I'm watching my figure at the moment. Perhaps another time? I was hoping to see Pinkie Pie, if she's around?”
The stallion took her refusal in his stride. “She sure is, she's just up in her room. Go on up.”
The demure, ladylike smile fell from her face as she mounted the stairs, her face settling into an unaccustomedly-stern frown. She and Rainbow had been surprised not to find the party pony at Twilight's library that morning, and her continuing absence throughout the day had led them to conclude that something important must be holding her up. Instead, she found Pinkie rummaging around in her dresser, bobbing her head with her usual restless energy.
“Hi Rarity! How's Ponyville's premier purveyor of fabulous fashion today? What are you doing here?” Pinkie's greeting seemed very forced, and faltered badly on seeing the look on her friend's face.
“Pinkamena Pie, where have you been?” she demanded sternly.
“Oh. Well, you know, working and stuff. Cupcakes wait for no mare, and uneasy lies the head that makes the vanilla crowns,” Pinkie chirped cheerfully, fiddling with a party hat and unable to meet Rarity's eyes.
“It's your day off,” she pointed out, struggling to keep her temper.
Pinkie paused in her fidgeting and slumped back onto her hindquarters, her ears drooping. “Yeah. I'm sorry.”
Pinkie's voice was quiet and sad, and Rarity's anger softened at the sincerity. She walked over and rested a hoof on her friend's shoulder. “What's wrong, Pinkie?”
Pinkie swallowed and look up at her, regret and sadness warring in her eyes. “Everypony's all sad and scared and normally I'd throw a party when ponies need cheering up, but somepony's dead , Rares. Somepony's dead, and Applejack's in jail, and... I don't know what to do.”
She could see how much the admission cost her friend, and the remained of her anger drained away. She moved forward and sat beside her friend, her shoulder pressed up against the pink mare's in solidarity and support. “Then you rally around the ponies that are left. You don't have to do anything special, you just have to be there and show them that you care. Maybe we can't do much for Applejack right now, but Twilight needs her friends. She needs us to help her cope with the loss of a friend and the sort of guilt you know that she'll heap upon herself for not solving everything in time. She needs her friends, Pinkie, and that means you.”
To her shock, Pinkie sniffled quietly. “If she wants to see me. She must hate me for abandoning her.”
“Oh, darling, don't be so silly! I promise you, the only thing that will go through her head when you walk through her door will be relief that one of her best friends is there. Come on, I'm heading back there now – what do you say?”
“Okay,” Pinkie said in a small voice.
Rarity threw a warm smile at her friend and together they set off towards the stairs. She paused at the top step and motioned for Pinkie to go first, but the other mare also stopped and took a deep breath.
“Rarity? Thanks. You're a good friend.”
=====// \=====
“I'm sorry!” Bluebell yelped for what seemed like the hundredth time over Autumn's hysterical laughter.
“...with a, with a duster !” the blue Pegasus gasped yet again, pounding a hoof on the table.
Beside her, Nightjack was trying – and failing – to contain his explosive sniggers. “The might of the nation, defeated by a housemare with a cleaning implement,” he added in mock-solemnity. “Thank Celestia she didn't have a plunger!”
Shining Armour rolled his eyes. “Well, what was I supposed to do? She wouldn't listen to a word I said, and I was hardly going to bale her up and lock her in one of your cells, was I?”
“I'm sorry!” Bluebell interjected yet again.
Shining Armour ignored her and continued. “All I wanted was to see if you were in and leave you the statements, so I guess I found out what I wanted to know.”
“It's all right, I've stopped laughing now,” Autumn panted insincerely, mopping at her eyes. “So where did you go?”
“I went to see my sister,” he said coolly. “I wanted to make sure she was all right after you two had finished with her.”
That sobered Nightjack, at least. “Ah. And...?”
“She'll be fine. Eventually. Just as long as those idiot reporters stop banging on her door. There was also a message for me; the Princesses are expecting me on the evening train. They also want Twilight to come.”
At last, Autumn returned to her normal demeanour. “Oh? Now that might be a problem.”
Shining Armour's tone became positively frigid. “Oh really? And why's that?”
“I think it would be better if she stayed close for a while.”
“You do, huh? Is she a suspect?”
“Well, no, but-”
“You think she should ignore a direct summons from the Princesses? That one of the best-known ponies in Equestria might suddenly do a runner?” he demanded caustically.
“All right, Colonel, you've made your point,” Nightjack interjected soothingly. “We don't have a problem with it. Do you know when she'll be back?”
He snorted, feeling annoyed with himself for letting them get under his skin. “A day, maybe two. If it's longer, we'll send a message.” He blew out a deep breath. “Sorry. I really ought to thank you all for your help over the last few days.”
“Not a problem, Shining, I just wish we hadn't had to meet under these circumstances,” said Nightjack diplomatically. “You and your Guardsponies have been invaluable.”
Autumn sighed. “Likewise. It's actually been a pleasure, believe it or not.”
“Thanks. So, what happens next?”
“The Prosecutor will make a decision on charges. We're supposed to be meeting her, strangely enough, on the evening train from Canterlot.”
“Then I guess I'll see you at the station.” He turned to go, then stopped and grinned at Bluebell. “Just don't tell your mum, in case she turns up with tar and feathers!”
The others laughed, and he closed the door to another of Bluebell's vociferous apologies.
=====// \=====
Star Glimmer stood at the Canterlot cross-roads, facing Thunderlane and Windrush. From what she'd heard of the last few days they were going to be a pony light for the evening shift, but given the relatively straightforward forecast they had to achieve she didn't see any point in dragging anypony in for overtime.
“Okay, everypony, we might as well get started. Tonight we need to break up this cumulus cover, and-”
She paused, hearing the thump of wings beating at the air behind her, and turned to see a familiar mare drop onto her hooves and trot into their little circle.
“Sorry I'm late,” she mumbled quietly, her eyes fixed on the ground.
Star closed her hanging jaw with a snap. “Cloud Kicker? ”
“Yeah?”
She flailed for a tactful way to express herself, then gave up. “I... uh, never mind. Good to see you. Now, getting back to the cumulus...”
She ran them through the chart and assigned each of them to specific areas and roles before dismissing them to get started. She caught Cloud Kicker just before she set off.
“Hey, Cloud Kicker? I, uh, I heard about, uh... well, I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry, and if you need any time off then it's not a problem. Don't worry about the weather, we can take care of that, just make sure you take care of you .”
The lavender-grey mare drew herself up proudly. “Thank you, but I have a job to do.”
Star could only stare at her, nonplussed. “Just saying, y'know.”
There was a tremor in Cloud Kicker's voice as she replied but she kept her fragile composure. “I had a life before him, now I'm going to have to have a life after him. I may as well get started.”
She gave up. “Well, okay then. Let's push that cirrus in before it gets dark.”
Several hours' work later, she gathered her team in to review their progress. The beautiful pink and purple tints reflecting off their cirrus in the vaults of the sky had finally given way to full darkness, replaced by the pale light of the waning moon. Broken cumulus, thinning to nothing towards Trottingham, drifted gently south on the fitful light breeze. She paused, staring up at the familiar night sentinel; even now, she looked for the form of the Mare in the Moon, as familiar to her as the back of her hoof ever since she was a filly. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that the Mare was now returned to them as Princess Luna, lifting the shadow from the moon.
Shaking herself, she turned her attention back to her team. “Hey, looking good up there. Great job, everypony! Take a break, then we'll just monitor for a while.” As she spoke, she realised that she was down to two wingponies again. “Has anypony seen Cloud Kicker?”
Thunderlane shuffled his hooves uncomfortably. “Yeah. She's on that little stratocumulus over there,” he said, pointing. “I, uh, I think she might need a while.”
Sure enough, she could just make out the tip of a blonde tail hanging over the edge of the cloud. Poor girl! I just hope a good cry will help a bit – Celestia knows, nothing else will . She sighed and shook her head. “Well, I guess she's done her bit anyway. Okay, break time, ponies. Anypony trade for strawberry jam and peanut butter?”
=====// \=====
It seemed rather surreal, somehow, to be waiting on a moonlit train station platform with his sister and her friends on one side, and the police on the other, for the train which would deliver the Prosecutor from Canterlot to decide the fate of one of said friends and which would then also take Twilight away from said friends to Canterlot.
Nopony said much while they waited, but what little conversation there was died away as they caught the distant huff of the Friendship Express, growing louder with each passing moment. Eventually, the train hissed is way into the station, the brakes groaning loudly as it came to a halt.
“Ponyville! This station is Ponyville! This service terminates here – all change, all change, please!” boomed the conductor amid a small stream of ponies emerging from the carriages. One pony in particular stood out, a slender, ascetic-looking peach-coloured mare dressed in a blue pin-striped jacket and tie. She looked up and down the platform before fixing her eyes on them and approaching at a stately pace, a highly-polished briefcase clutched in her teeth.
“Sergeant Nightjack? Senior Counsel Cui Bono, Royal Chamber of Justice,” she introduced herself grandly, setting her briefcase down and proffering a hoof. Strangely, even in the darkness she wore spectacles with peculiar, blue-tinted lenses.
Nightjack shook the mare's hoof politely. “Senior Counsel.”
Autumn, however, just smirked at her insolently. “Hey, Cuddles.”
The mare's glare would have flash-frozen a lake. “Ah. Detective Inspector. An unexpected pleasure.”
Autumn's smirk widened, and Shining Armour decided to get out of the blast zone as fast as possible.
“Well, thank you both for all your help. I might well be back here shortly, so who knows? Maybe I'll see you around.”
“Safe trip, Colonel.”
Shaking both their hoofs, he hurried on board after his sister and her friends.
The carriage was deserted apart from his sister, Spike, and the small gaggle of mares who surrounded her. Rainbow Dash and the exhibitionist Unicorn, Rarity, had been joined by a pink pony, appropriately enough called Pinkie, and a Pegasus so timid that he hadn't even caught her name. Perhaps she was some sort of counterpoint to the brashness of Rainbow Dash. Their individual foibles aside, it was plain to see how much they cared for Twilight, and for that he could forgive them just about anything.
“Remember, if you need us, darling, just send word and we'll come galloping,” declared Rarity.
“Huh, flying if you need – and I'd be there a whole lot quicker!” huffed Rainbow Dash. The others let that pass without comment, evidently used to it.
“Thanks, girls. I'll see you all soon.” Twilight said quietly.
“We'll be there even quicker than quick if we don't get off – I think they're about to leave,” giggled Pinkie.
“Then we shall see you when you return,” said Rarity grandly, giving Twilight a hug before turning to Shining Armour. “Such a pleasure to meet you at last, Colonel – do let us know if you dropping by again.”
Please tell me she isn't going to... oh, thank Celestia! “Uh... likewise,” he said weakly. Even if I was single? When Tartarus freezes over!
There was a sharp blast on a whistle from the conductor, and Twilight's friends all scrambled for the door, saying their farewells. She sat with her face glued to the window as the train let out a loud, groaning wheeze and eased away from the station in a cloud of steam.
“It's OK, Twilight, you'll all be back together again soon,” he said quietly as the train gathered speed towards Canterlot.
Twilight was silent for a long time, before letting out a sigh and slumping down in her seat. “Will we? You know, I'm really not sure any more.”
=====// \=====
The booming thump of her hooves on the wooden floor was driving her crazy. Summer added that additional goad to the cauldron of wild, incoherent emotion boiling in her chest as she raged around her little garret room, driven by a restless, ungovernable energy which made the walls of her little flat feel like they were pressing in on her until she wanted to buck and thrash her hooves to drive them back.
She ignored the piles of belongings that she kicked over or stepped on in her erratic circuits. They had appeared after a half-formed thought sometime that morning of packing up and simply skipping town. Leaving the lies and the spite and the vicious, insular, gossipy boneheads of this Celestia-forsaken hick town behind sounded good in her head for a few minutes, like she could cut Ponyville off from her life like the bad end of a carrot. She'd turned her flat upside down in a manic burst of energy before realising that she had no boxes to pack, no transport, and no hope of escaping the pain of the pony-shaped hole beside her.
Some tiny part of that pain had overflowed and spilled out onto the few ponies brave enough to face her. First the policepony, who came to tear her heart to pieces with his carefully formal words. And then Junebug. Poor June – she had been little more than a figure to lash out at, a way to take some of her rage and grief and anguish and howl it out before she burst from it. Junebug had stood stolidly against the torrent until it abruptly ran dry, and all her energy with it. She remembered vaguely Junebug putting her to bed and pottering around for a while, floundering awkwardly for something to say, before finally retreating to leave her in solitude.
Her rest had been troubled and fitful, haunted by dreams which briefly dragged her from sleep only to dissolve as she surfaced, leaving impressions of yawning chasms of despair and loneliness and undefined terror. When she awoke, there was a few blissful moments of uncomprehending disorientation before the realisation of the previous day's events crashed in on her with the force of a falling house. Instinctively she had curled herself into a ball and pulled the covers down over her pounding head, but the pounding at the front door which had woken her echoed through the flat again. There was a moment of panic at the bright light shining around the edges of the curtains, but she disobeyed her first instinct to roll out of bed and gallop downstairs and instead cautiously stuck her muzzle under the hem of the curtains.
A trio of unfamiliar ponies were clustered around her door. She had only a second to recognise their notepads and pencils before a flashbulb flare sent her reeling backwards across the bed, and a gleeful voice called out, “There she is!”
The hammering at her door had intensified, and soon they were shouting up at her through the letterbox. Cowering, bewildered, she had retreated to the safety of her covers again like a little filly, but a sudden, sharp rattle told of one of the misbegotten sons-of-goats trying her window! A spark of indignation had flared, rapidly growing as she sat up and caught some of their questions. Her face had bloomed red; the first, instinctive flush of embarrassment quickly followed by hot rage. This time she had shot to her hooves, suddenly spoiling for a fight, but doubt had seized her at the top of the stairs.
I am alone.
A simple, obvious thought, but by turns terrifying and immolating. The pony that had always, always had her back... didn't. Her friends were her friends but they would never be him , and they weren't here , and suddenly a lot of her bravado had vanished. She remembered a sob, before whirling at the scratching sound and quiet patter of falling soot that came from the fireplace. A loose, grimy ball of paper bounced out of the hearth, and her tears of loss became the hot tears of helpless anger and despair. She was trapped, and she simply couldn't bring herself to face them.
That had been late morning, and her tormentors had remained long after the sun had set. She had heard them outside, talking and laughing amongst themselves while she paced and the room became smaller and the walls closed in on her and the deep, resounding echoes of her hooves on the floor wore like broken glass on her nerves. All had been silent for a couple of hours, now, but she still dreaded the thought of them lying in wait to ambush her, and so she paced, and cursed, and wept.
A solitary, shimmering note from the clock startled her, and she tripped over a loose jar before one hind leg shot out and she backhoofed it into the wall with a snarl. She felt a fleeting pinch of shame as the inoffensive pot shattered, and it was enough to give her pause. She had to get out before she completely spit her bit. Surely they weren't still waiting for her? And if they were, well, she could just hoof it – but either way, she had to get out.
She crept down the narrow stairs, wincing at their occasional creaks, and paused at the bottom where she could see out into the salon. No faces were pressed against the glass, no ponies lurked in the street. Good enough.
Silently, she eased the front door open and had just turned the key to lock it when a startled voice beside her made her jump.
“Miss?”
Her instinctive reaction was to bolt, and the second her legs were in motion she felt all her pent-up energy find the release she had long craved. Teeth gritted in a fierce scowl, she drove harder and harder through her hindquarters, racing flat-out. Her hooves struck sparks as they slithered across the town's damp cobbles, but soon she was across the bridge and out into the countryside. She had no idea where she was heading, simply that it was away , and she couldn't bring herself to care as the cool night air streamed her tears back from her face. She struck out aimlessly across the fields, the distant lights of Canterlot far to her right. Her pace was starting to slacken a little, but it was no good. She couldn't outrun her loss – or the nagging sense of guilt.
“I don't want you to feel like you're obliged to go with me, that's all.”
“Oh, come on! This is, what, the millionth time we've talked about this since we got our cutie marks? You've always wanted to try your luck in Canterlot, and I've always said that I'd go with you. Now seems like as good a time as any. After all, I can't stay at my uncle's place forever, and I'd kinda like to see a bit more of Equestria than just the valley, you know?”
She hit a boggy patch, splashing mud and water over her legs and belly. She changed course and slogged her way to the left, where she could see what looked like solid ground rising between some trees and a faint path.
“There!” Her hoof slammed down on the map beside the large green splodge, just short of Canterlot.
He leaned closer to read the name, and shrugged. “Ponyville? Sure, why not? But I'm gonna hold it against you if I end up spending my life building pig pens while you're trying to sell manecuts and tail-trims to two rock farmers and a mouldy chicken!”
She gave him a flat look and tossed a guidebook at him. “Look it up, genius! It's right on the railway to Canterlot.”
“Oooh. So two rock farmers, a mouldy chicken, and a train driver. That's it, we're set for life. This time next year, Sums, we'll be millionaires!”
She rolled her eyes, earning her a disarming grin and a friendly nudge.
“Ponyville it is, then. When do we get started?”
The trees thickened, forcing her to slow even more as the branches of the gnarled trees knitted threateningly together overhead, cutting the light from the moon down to a faint gleam. Several times unseen thorns tore at her legs and barrel as she twisted and turned through the trees, but for the life of her, she couldn't stop her legs from pumping.
He had started pacing as soon as the door closed behind them. “You know, I'm starting to think you were right, Sums. Maybe we should just cut our losses. Those morons would have gone for us tonight if the Apples hadn't stepped in.”
She noticed that he made a significant omission. “And Cloud Kicker, too. Maybe especially Cloud Kicker.”
She winced at his growl of frustration and hurried on. “As it happens, I think we should hang in there. I'm damned if I'll be run out of town by the likes of them! We've done nothing wrong, Sils – and with our friends standing by us, we'll be fine.”
She got a weak smile. “And if you've got my back, I've got yours.”
She slugged him gently on the shoulder. “Always, Silver. Always.”
The forest opened up into a clearing, and she skidded to a halt as the moon's pale light shone on the wall of trees surrounding her. A primal howl tore itself from her guts, a banshee cry of jumbled emotion reached up into the night sky until something popped in her throat and her voice cracked. Finally spent, her rubbery legs shaking from the exertion and her head drooping, she stood and listened for a while, but her harsh, panting breaths were the only sound in the little clearing.
I am alone .
She suddenly felt small and very, very alone. And also, although she hated to admit it to herself, completely lost. She tottered in a slow circle, but there was little to show which way she had come – and then even less as a cloud passed in front of the moon, cutting off even that feeble light. She swore fluently and tried to convince herself that the shiver that ran down her spine was from the sweat that soaked her coat. The dense, close-growing trees mean that she must be somewhere in the fringes of the Everfree Forest. She racked her brains, trying to think which direction the forest ran in relation to the village, then laughed aloud. Knowing that was fine, but she had no way of telling north from south. She couldn't even see the Pole Star – although she wasn't entirely sure which one that was, anyway.
The moonlight grew brighter as the cloud passed overhead, and she repeated her revolution, vainly searching for some sort of clue in the various dark openings around the clearing. After checking the moon again and searching for marks or hoofprints to tell which way she had come, she took a deep breath and picked her course.
“There.”
Saying it aloud didn't really add to her conviction. As she lifted her hoof to take a first step, she heard a low, menacing cough, and froze, eyes scanning the trees. She tried to hold her breath and listen, but the fierce burning in her lungs meant that the brief silences were punctuated by great, whooping gasps. Nothing moved. It wasn't... that thing. The killer. Junebug had told her that the Princess had said it was safe now. Promised that it was gone.
What if she's wrong?
She blew out a few quivering breaths. It wasn't the only dangerous thing in the forest, by all accounts. Screwing up her nerve, she hurried in her chosen direction on aching legs, her ears alert and swivelling frantically as she plunged into the gloom.
The undergrowth was thicker here, and it grasped at her legs and pulled at her tail ceaselessly as she kept up a dogged jog-trot. A sixth sense made her stop abruptly, ears straining. The rustling sound of her passage didn't quite seem to die away as fast as she would have expected. Swallowing hard, she set off again, only to bark her knees on a fallen tree-trunk and collect a painful scrape down her front to add to her catalogue of minor miseries. Whimpering words her mother would never have guessed she knew, she limped back and forth across the faint path only to find that the only way forward was to clamber awkwardly over the obstacle.
She kept gamely on, and was finally rewarded with a tiny glimmer of light coming through the trees ahead. Muttering in relief, she increased her pace. I've got to be going in the right direction, that has to be civilisation? But who has a light burning at this time of night?
Her uncertainty was resolved by a sharp rustle in the undergrowth off to her left, and she sprang forward into a stumbling, lurching gallop. The tortured wheeze of her lungs told her that she couldn't keep it up for long, but, thank Celestia, the glimmer was strengthening. It had to be a-
Her flying hooves were whipped out from underneath her and she crashed in a painful heap on her shoulder, tumbling head-over-hooves. Winded, heart thundering in terror, she gagged at the sickly, repulsive odour that flooded her nostrils as she strained for breath. Thrashing desperately, thorns and broken branches stabbing painfully into her sides and legs, she regained her hooves and plunged headlong towards the little light, her lips forming frantic, soundless prayers for deliverance.
The trees parted, and she found herself in a small yard behind a cosy little cottage. Light flooded out from an upstairs window, revealing outbuildings and animal pens clustered around the house like chicks around their mother. She staggered around the side of the cottage and almost cried aloud; a well-tended path ran from the cottage's front door to a small road nearby, and surely that was the shape of Ponyville's town hall and clock tower in the near distance? Ears pricked forward, she shambled towards it as fast as her hooves would carry her.
Ponyville's streets were deserted, but she refused to slacken her pace or let herself rest until she had turned up Whitetail Lane and finally closed and bolted the salon door behind her. She leaned against the counter for a minute, too exhausted to even curse herself for her narrow escape. Finally, sweat-soaked, covered in mud, and scratched and bleeding all over, she dragged herself upstairs into the flat.
She didn't even remember making it to the bed.
=====// \=====
=====// \=====
The last light of the moon was fading from the pre-dawn sky, giving way to the fullness of the night. The rim of the lunar sphere had dipped below the horizon as seen from Dawn's Greeting tower some twenty-seven minutes and thirty seconds earlier, and now a recently-revived ceremony which had once marked the beginning and end of each day for hundreds of years was to be played out again.
A pair of Guards were stationed at either side of the wide, sweeping stair where it met the western end of the flat stone roof, their pure-white coats and gleaming golden armour immaculate. Behind them, a precise distance east of the mid-point of the tower, three more Guardsponies stood facing the stairs; a young Captain flanked by a pair of veteran N.C.O.s, the bright colours of their unit pennons flying at the tips of their lances. Finally, on the easternmost edge of the tower, a tall, graceful Alicorn with a flowing, ethereal mane and tail faced the eastern sky, massive white wings raised and fully spread as if to embrace the world. None moved so much as a muscle at the rhythmic, ringing tramp of armoured ponies mounting the stairs.
The heads of the approaching ponies appeared, three of them marching abreast, each carrying a furled standard. In contrast to the others, their helms and mail were a glossy black against their dark-grey coats, and the leader of their formation bore leathery, bat-like wings on her back. They kept up the same metronomic pace until they made the last turn onto the long platform a single, symbolic step below the roof level. When they reached this point, the two stairway guards took a pace forwards and turned to block the newcomers' path, lowering their heavy silver halberds threateningly.
“Halt! ” bellowed the golden-armoured guard on the right of the stairs. The newcomers obliged, crashing their hooves down one final time in perfect synchronisation. “Who comes there? ”
“The Night! ” roared the bat-winged pony.
“Whose Night? ”
“Princess Luna's Night! ”
The two guards lifted their halberds and reversed their course, ending at attention. “Pass, Princess Luna's Night, for all is well! ”
The Captain swallowed. “Colour Guard! Atten-shun! ”
The Captain and her companions snapped erect and the black-armoured ponies took this as their cue to resume their advance, marching past the stairway guards and the motionless trio before coming to a halt again directly behind the Solar Princess.
“Colour Guard, about turn! ”
The three spun in place to face east, and as their hooves cracked down on the worn stone once more, the newcomers thrust the staffs of their standards into three gilded sockets at measured intervals, thump – thump – thump .
“Colour Guard, present arms! ”
With that, the Captain and company made their traditional salute and the newcomers tore the bindings off their standards and came to attention themselves. The heavy, intricately-embroidered banners of the Sun and Moon fell open to ripple lazily in the fitful breeze either side of the grand flag of Equestria.
“Night has passed! ” declared the bat-winged pony.
“Day is breaking! ” agreed the Captain.
“Harmony and Equestria! ”
At their combined shout, the mighty wings of the Alicorn beat once, then again, lifting the Goddess into the sky while blinding white light spilled from her horn.
Seconds later, exactly thirty minutes since the moon had ceded the sky, the light of dawn broke once more over Canterlot.
=====// \=====
Joining Princess Celestia for the official lev��ée breakfast was an honour which few ponies experienced in their lifetimes. The fare was simple – seasonal fruits, delicate slices of melon, fresh bread still warm from the oven – and the beverages no more exotic than fresh orange juice and gently-steaming cups of lemon tea, all served by waiters who passed by on rubber horseshoes like shadows in the night, but even the highest of nobleponies had been known to fight tooth and hoof for the privilege of attending these gatherings.
Those nobleponies, therefore, would be reduced to tears of outrage and indignation that such an occasion should be attended only by two common-born ponies, even if they were Celestia's personal student and the Captain of the Guard. It was also probably best that they didn't see the sight of Princess Luna sprawled in a lazy heap, munching noisily on a bowl of own-brand granola from the local supermarket.
“We should do this more often, sister,” the Princess of the Night declared, patting a splotch of yoghurt from the royal muzzle.
Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Have breakfast together, Luna? Or watch you gorge yourself like a starving parasprite?”
“Break our fast with friends,” Luna said with great dignity. “None of those rapacious social climbers you often encumber these occasions with. Make it a pleasure rather than one of your subtle tortures where using the wrong fork on your ridiculously-extravagant fruit is political suicide.”
Celestia sighed, setting down one of the gilded forks in question. “I don’t particularly care whether somepony uses the wrong fork, or even no fork at all. They have made it so, and seem particularly resistant to changing to the idea. And while I grant you that the fruit is a luxury, it is hardly so extravagant as you make out.”
Luna snorted. “You have become soft, sister!” she declared with a smirk. “Why, the signs of your gluttony are born on your very frame – don’t you agree, Shining Armour?”
“How very dare you, Luna!” Celestia cried in mock-outrage, turning to Shining Armour with a beseeching look.
“Can I refuse to answer on the grounds of avoiding banishment by one or other of you?” he replied, hiding his grin behind his teacup.
“See? Only his chivalry prevents his mentioning the wobble of thy flanks and the pendulousness of thy belly! To stint one’s self of cake in the afternoons would most assuredly be of great benefit to your constitution.”
Celestia laughed. “Ah, now we come to it! After all, I know of only one princess who eats cheesecake first thing on arising – and it certainly isn’t me! Perhaps you should look to your own habits before criticising mine?”
“It is only natural that I join our little ponies in the meal which coincides with my time of rising. Cheesecake is a valid part of such meal,” Luna replied loftily. “My abstemiousness is reflected in my figure.”
“Indeed it is – which is why you sprawl there like a stunned Ursa Minor after flying the short distance down from your tower, unable to raise another hoof!”
Shining Armour carefully edged backwards. While it was great fun to see the two sisters tease each other, he knew the trick was to avoid taking sides – and not, under any circumstances, to laugh. He had done that only once – and quickly found his horn harpooning flying bread rolls.
Twilight, on the other hoof, sat quietly in the corner pushing a bread roll listlessly around her plate while draining her third cup of coffee. Already the caffeine was starting to show in her rather wild eyes and the tremor in her hooves. Both Princesses had been watching her for some time, and Shining Armour thought their little byplay was aimed at making her smile, but it was Luna who eventually interceded directly.
“Are you well, Twilight?” she asked solicitously. “You are most singularly quiet, and I noted the tumultuous nature of your dreams last night.”
Twilight’s head jerked up in panic and the Princess rushed to reassure her. “I saw not their content, Twilight, only that they were disturbed. I do not intrude on ponies’ privacy unless I absolutely must.”
“…Oh. I didn’t sleep very well, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Luna eyed her keenly. “As you wish. If you are finished, sister, perhaps we should get started?”
“Oh, I suppose I can drag myself away from my rampant gluttony and haul my wobbly flanks and pendulous belly into the Opal Office – assuming everypony is ready?”
“At your command, Princess,” Shining Armour said, and beside him Twilight leapt to her hooves.
“Tarry a moment whilst I recover my breath for the momentous journey across the hall, sister.”
The two Princesses swept out, snickering to themselves, while Twilight leaned closer to him to whisper, “Are they always like that?”
He shrugged. “When they’re alone? Pretty much, yeah.”
Twilight gave him a stunned look but they had little time to discuss things as they followed the Royal Sisters into their working office. Two large mahogany desks dominated the room, their panels intricately carved and highlighted with iridescent blue stones. A series of similar stones, each a smooth globe the size of a pony's hoof, were set as the focal points of a frieze which stretched around the room.
Celestia took up station behind her desk with her usual regal grace and pushed some paperwork aside before addressing the two Guards stationed either side of the door.
“Thank you, that will be all. Please see to it that we are not disturbed.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
The two Guards bowed their way out and pulled the tall oak doors closed. As they boomed shut, Luna stretched and sank decorously onto the thick herringbone-patterned rug stretching between the two desks, curling her legs beneath her.
“Help, sister! Mercy! My exertions are inequine, unspeakable!” she murmured feebly throwing her head back in a swoon. Celestia just rolled her eyes and flicked a crumpled ball of paper at her from the waste paper basket.
“To get down to business, both Twilight and Shining Armour are here to learn the full tale of the recent events – and we to learn what has subsequently transpired from them. We must also decide what actions we can take in pursuit of the creature – and in defence of Applejack.
“Firstly though, we would both like to thank you, Twilight. You have pursued this problem with diligence and zeal in excess of even my greatest expectations, and that you led us to a solution at all given how little you had to work with is little short of incredible.”
Twilight hung her head. “I was too late, though. A pony died, and the creature escaped.”
“Any recriminations must be directed at Celestia and I alone,” Luna said firmly. “Were we not so slow to discern the truth we would have been in time. As it is, we owe you a great debt that we now know with certainty what our foe may be, and that information will most assuredly lead to its capture, in the fullness of time. Do not take on this burden, Twilight; it is not yours to bear.”
Celestia gave Twilight a sad smile, full of regret. “Luna is right; please don't blame yourself, Twilight. There was nothing more you could possibly have done.”
Twilight shook her head stubbornly but did not answer. With a sigh, Celestia continued, “And I must apologise to you also, my Captain, for keeping you in the dark about this threat. As ever, the fewer ponies who share a secret, the better kept it remains.”
He bowed his head in acknowledgement. “But why all the secrecy, Princess? Why not put everypony on their guard?”
“A reasonable question. The short answer was, to prevent a panic. The longer answer will become clear as we explain the full circumstances.”
“How shall we proceed, sister?” Luna asked. “I can attempt a summing-up, if you wish?”
Celestia chewed her lip in thought for a moment. “Perhaps it would be best Twilight began from our original meeting through to the events outside the town hall? That way, Shining Armour can see how things unfolded from her perspective.”
Luna nodded sharply. “A sound proposition. We will add to the telling if needs be, but I think any further answers can come after. If you are willing, Twilight?”
Closing her eyes, Twilight nodded again. It was several moments while she ordered her thoughts before she began to speak in a quiet voice.
It took her over an hour as she explained the Princess' original instructions and then the ebb and flow of information and uncertainty around the two new ponies in town. The meeting in the town which so nearly descended into mob justice left her shaking her head in frustration. “I should have realised just how bad the feeling in Ponyville had got when Summer's window was graffiti'd. If it wasn't for Cloud Kicker and Applejack...,” she trailed off, her meaning clear. “I should have said something when it was obvious that everypony knew that something was going on. Like Applejack told me, I didn't have to go into specifics, just enough that it was clearly something from the Everfree Forest.”
“You think they would have believed you?” Shining Armour mused. “It sounds like they'd already made their minds up long before.”
“Maybe. The earlier I told them, the more likely they would have been to believe it. As it was, they'd already made up their own minds to the point that they thought I was just making something up to defend them.”
“That was entirely our fault, Celestia and I,” said Luna. “We were very explicit in our instruction to Twilight that no word of our suspicions could reach outside a very select group. I even forbade her to discuss it with her fellow Elements of Harmony, although Celestia and Twilight convinced me otherwise.”
“Why, though?” asked Shining Armour. “It would have made everything so much simpler, for everypony.”
Luna leapt to her hooves and began to pace agitatedly. “Because at that point, we still had no idea what we were dealing with. It must surely be other than an ordinary pony, but what form did it take? Did it hide itself in plain sight, and live in pony form? Did it pass somehow unnoticed through the crowd? Also, in years past, at least one of those who investigated on our behalf had disappeared. Did they draw its attention, somehow? You can see why we were loath to risk information leaking out and possibly ruining our best chance of stopping these incidents permanently”
“Peace, Luna, we shall come to that in time,” said Celestia calmly. She rose from her desk and walked to a small alcove set into the wall, where she poured two glasses of water from a tall, crystal pitcher. Levitating them in her magic, she set one each in from of Twilight and Shining Armour and she settled herself on the floor in Luna's place, while her sister's restlessness ended with her standing at the patio doors looking out into a little private courtyard, her tail twitching. Twilight took her glass gratefully, letting the water rest on her tongue between swallows, but other than a perfectly-polite thank-you, she didn't seem to realise the honour that the Princess did her by putting herself on the same level. Then again, she shared a much closer relationship with Celestia than nearly any other pony at Court, barring her sister and Cadence; the respect was certainly there, but the formalities tended to be taken as read.
“Please continue, Twilight, if you feel able,” Celestia prompted.
Twilight closed her eyes for a moment and took several deep breaths. Opening them again, she resumed her tale from her receipt of Princess Celestia's hurried letter. “Applejack panicked,” she summed up in a hushed voice. “I couldn't stop her, and I knew that I couldn't go after her until the Guard had arrived, but by then it was too late. I just can't imagine how it could go so wrong.”
Twilight's eyes screwed shut and she gritted her teeth against her tears, her head drooping. Celestia patted her shoulder consolingly. “Applejack was right to be worried about her sister – just as you were right in what you did.”
“She said she nearly killed him” Twilight forced out. “Beat him to a pulp and then galloped back to the farm, only to find that everything he'd told her was true. And then I went and... found him.”
Her voice cracked huskily on the last two words, and the room was silent for a long time except for Twilight's wet, shaking breaths. Shining Armour knew what she had found, and it was almost hard to believe that it had been a living, breathing pony. Words seemed futile and inadequate.
Finally, Luna broke the horrified spell. “I think that takes us up to your involvement, Colonel. We would be grateful for your report.”
Dragging his mind away from the broken body beneath the grape vines, he tried to focus his thoughts and quickly set out his version of events. Given that most of the two days was tied up with confirming the same things, his progress seemed peculiarly small when spelled out in total.
“Applejack's in a whole lot of trouble,” he concluded. “The Prosecutor was arriving just as we left town, but Autumn Breeze and Nightjack were adamant that she was facing prison time. The only question in their minds was what the eventual charge would be.”
Celestia let out a long sigh and rose to her hooves, pacing the office much as her sister had done earlier. “This is already a tragedy. Should one of the Elements be imprisoned, it would turn into a disaster – for Applejack, for her family, for her friends. We may just have to hope that it doesn't turn out to be a disaster for Equestria, as well.”
“Isn't there anything you can do, Princess?” Twilight begged.
“We will come to that, Twilight, but bear in mind that justice must be done – and must be seen to be done,” Celestia said reluctantly. “For now, you have both told your tales, and I think we have reached the point where Luna and I must take over the story and fill in what remains.”
The two Princesses exchanged a look, and it was Luna who began to speak. “It is difficult to pick a clean starting point, but perhaps we should begin when the original investigation did? My sister first became aware of the creature about 250 years ago, when a badly damaged body was found on the outskirts of Trottingham. There was no indication of anything more to the case than possible animal attack, and no culprit was ever found. It was nearly fifteen years later that a similarly-mutilated body was found, almost on the other side of Equestria, but the similarities between the two led my sister to order more wide-ranging enquiries. She discovered that a number of small items had vanished from the town over the preceding months, but no further hint or clue as to the assailant. Lines of enquiry quickly dried up, but she sent a standing order to the mayors of Equestria's towns and villages for any peculiar deaths or disappearances to be reported to her office.”
Celestia sighed. “The greatest difficulty was determining what was significant. The clear-cut cases were many years apart, in differing locations, and only ever became apparent long after the fact – the local authorities faced a major challenge in reporting to Canterlot, assuming that they remembered to report it at all. Evidence was usually scanty, as few ponies understood the need to investigate or what they were looking for. Sadly, occasionally ponies disappear around Equestria and their fate sometimes remains a mystery. Sometimes, there will be an outbreak of petty theft. There was no telling whether one such occurrence was important or not in the context of our enquiries.”
Luna nodded and continued. “One advantage of our long span is the ability to recognise patterns over long periods of time. In recent years, my sister became aware that the frequency of deaths and disappearances was increasing, and as communication across Equestria improved, so did the flow of information. It became apparent to her that the interval between these incidents was decreasing, and shortly after my return she took me into her confidence. In the course of my rehabilitation, I was able to dedicate much time to the systematic analysis of information and try to derive patterns from the data. After the last recorded incident in Coltenhagen, with some deduction and possibly a few educated surmises, together we drew up a shortlist of potential targets. We were able to warn agents in each of these locations to be on the lookout for any of the warning signs. One such town was Ponyville – and one such agent was Twilight Sparkle.
“I must admit that at first, we were a little dismissive of Twilight's first report from Ponyville. It was so soon after she had been briefed that we thought she was jumping at shadows. Also, it coincided with the arrival of two new ponies in Ponyville – Silver, and his companion, Summer Clip – and I'm sorry to say that therefore we suspected that if she was correct, it would likely be of mundane explanation. We were more focussed on events in Saddleburn, near Las Pegasus, which were later resolved by the capture of a mare who confessed to stealing from her neighbours. At that point, we asked Twilight for more information about the two of them. Information which seemed curiously difficult to come by.”
“You mean they were evasive?” said Shining Armour, turning to look at Twilight. “I can see why that must have made you suspicious.”
Twilight didn't look up but fidgeted with her hooves. “It wasn't so much being evasive as they knew that it was more than idle curiosity and wanted to know why. Silver wasn't stupid – we kept dancing around each other and he kept leaving me these opportunities to tell him, but I wouldn't.”
“So what did you do?”
Twilight let out a pained sigh. “I wrote to the Mayor of their home town, asking for information. What we got back meant that it couldn't possibly be them. Unfortunately, the Mayor had taken the chance to put letters from their parents in with her reply. That left me with no choice but to admit what I'd done.”
Shining Armour winced. “You could have simply not given the letters to them?”
“It would have come out eventually, and then it would have been even worse. As it was, Silver didn't take it very well. We had a blazing row, actually. He kind of avoided me after that.”
He shook his head, blowing out his cheeks. “So Twilight was investigating these two ponies; was there anypony else on the list?”
Luna nodded. “Twilight and a number of others were also tasked with searching back through written records for anything which may give clues as to what manner of creature the culprit might be. Together, they must have turned the entire Royal Archive upside down, but without sufficient information to guide their search, the results were poor. That in itself was a mistake, as Twilight overtaxed herself to no good end, but I suspect asking her not to research this would have been as futile as asking my sister to stop raising the sun. As she said, Twilight and her friends were quickly convinced that it was improbable that Silver and Summer were responsible, but few alternatives presented themselves.”
“Well, ninety-nine percent convinced. Every now and then, something would come up which would make us wonder a little,” Twilight admitted reluctantly.
“Like what?” Shining Armour asked.
“Like... like the day before Summer's salon was attacked; Spike happened to meet Silver at Rarity's. All Spike said was that Fluttershy was sick, but he knew that Rainbow Dash had brought her into town, and when.”
“And there was no other way he could have known that?”
“Well, no. Not unless…,” Twilight trailed off as a horrified look crept over her features. “Cloud Kicker. Of course, Cloud Kicker! Rainbow Dash stayed with Fluttershy all day – except she had to go and get somepony to cover for her on Weather Patrol. Silver’s fillyfriend is a weather pony, and she lives in Ponyville. Oh, great Goddess, how could I have been so stupid?!” she burst out, clapping a hoof to her forehead.
“Calm yourself, Twilight; hindsight is a wonderful thing. Communication has been a key problem all the way through this sorry episode,” Luna noted. “Take Ponyville's ordinary citizens, for example. Thanks to my sister and I, their only knowledge of the situation was that their belongings were being taken and, perhaps naturally, they closed ranks against the outsiders. Rumour flourishes in the absence of fact, and we judged that it was best to let it do so rather than the creature be alerted and the opportunity lost.
“As for the creature itself, the first real hint as to its identity came from your Zebra shaman, Zecora. Whom we notice you confided in contrary to your orders, Twilight; perhaps there is a lesson in there for Celestia and I. There is little that escapes the attention of a shaman on her own ground, and they are capable of seeing on many levels. Your report was the first to put real momentum into the research in Canterlot, however I think that also, in the back of her mind, my sister first began to have doubts, to feel the first faint stirrings of a memory long, long buried.
“The lack of success of both you and the research team worried me greatly,” Celestia agreed. “And my suspicions began to grow when you described Fluttershy's experiences – and more particularly the strange symptoms which accompanied them. They seemed to firm my hypothesis on one hoof, yet weaken it on the other, for while the appearance and effects described were broadly correct, the manner in which the creature acted was not. In fact, it could hardly be more different. It was only when you began to resort to the mythical and semi-mythical in your reports, the Leprefaun, even the Night-Gaunt, that forced us to reconsider. Those stories are mostly nonsense, of course, but they share some faint, common threads of authenticity with our fears. Finally, we decided that the quickest and best way to allay our suspicions was to investigate.”
Celestia stared thoughtfully into space, and after a tense wait, eventually Twilight's patience ran out.
“What is it, Princess? What is the creature?” she asked breathlessly.
Celestia's faraway expression did not change, and after a moment Luna resumed the story in a strangely-reluctant voice.
“As the stars turn, so the world changes. What was familiar becomes merely a story, story becomes legend until, eventually, the ancient knowledge passes out of the world and is forgotten. Forgotten by all except us, Twilight, except Celestia and I. Many thousands of years ago, when Equestria was new, the small scatterings of ancient ponies were threatened by many things. Long before the three tribes, even before the Windigos, were fell beasts which preyed upon the unwary ponies. My sister and I began to teach them to protect themselves from slaughter, and so they worshipped us. Our reign and stewardship of the ponies was begun.
“One of the creatures threatening our beloved ponies stood out above all others for their wanton cruelty and the unpredictability of their rampages. Their true name we do not know, if indeed they have one, although they bore many from their prey; the Spirit-Shadows, the Night-Walkers, the Black Mist. Semi-corporeal and able to hide themselves in plain sight, although they always favoured darkness.”
Luna broke off, a bitter smile quirking her ageless features. “Even then, my little ponies learned to fear the night. 'Twas a time of terror, for despite every precaution, despite earthen walls and earnest vigilance, the creatures could fall undetected upon an encampment and slaughter everything, mare, stallion, and foal. Worse, they seemed to delight in the slaughter, and delight in the fear of their victims. Some settlements were wiped out overnight, yet more remote colonies left primitive record of being stalked for days, of individual ponies being taken from their midst before the end came. The creatures brought with them a strange plague, one which racked its victims with paranoia and sickness, fainting spells and weakness, even until the blood ran from their noses.”
Celestia shook her head wearily. “They had to be stopped if Equestria was ever to develop beyond a few scattered gatherings of ponies, all forever fearful. Their only weakness ever discovered was an aversion to cold-iron, which was painful to them. My sister and I took conference and decided that we must act. One by one, we captured them all after many years of effort. You can imagine our shock when we realised there were but five of them, responsible for the deaths of thousands! Luna and I spent several centuries trying to overcome their natures, but they were unmanageable. They had no self-awareness, such as we could tell. They could not be exiled, for they would return. They would not learn, showing not the slightest understanding of anything beyond their base lusts. And they neither sickened nor died, for in truth they did not appear to be wholly alive.
“Eventually, with much sorrow, we concluded that the only thing to be done was to seal them away and put them far beyond reach of Equestria. Each was entombed in a specially-worked cold-iron casket, sealed forever with the strongest magic we could devise and then buried at the bottom of the deepest ocean.”
“That's horrible,” said Twilight into the growing silence. She looked appalled, and Shining Armour could feel a chill in his own stomach at the thought.
“Indeed yes,” said Luna gravely. “Alive and unfading, but trapped for eternity, lightless and alone. Or so we thought, for as we have discovered, there was a flaw in the workings of one of the caskets. Millennia passed, but eventually one of the creatures escaped. When it returned to Equestria is impossible to say, but on its return its nature had changed. Mayhap we were wrong, for it seems to have learned a patience and caution that it certainly never had before. That is why we did not recognise it, for in its youth it would have annihilated entire towns. The signs of its passage would have been utterly unmistakable.”
“Why couldn't we find any record of them?” Twilight asked. “You said that the ancient ponies left records?”
“They did, Twilight, but only after the manner of their kind. When I said primitive, I mean the scratchings of a burnt stick, or chalk marks on fired clay. The ancient ponies' learning and history was oral, for literacy was exceedingly rare and written records were both immobile and short-lived.”
“How did it escape?” Shining Armour asked. “I mean, you and Princess Celestia-”
“My sister and I are divine beings, within the meaning of such limited understanding, but we are not infallible,” Luna corrected him gently. “There were many other crises threatening our rule, many pressures upon us, and the working of their caskets was long and slow.” She shrugged. “One of us made a mistake; it matters not who, or how.”
“But the other caskets?” he pressed, looking uncomfortable.
“Whole and intact, and very much occupied,” Celestia confirmed sadly. “I had inspected three before I found one vacant, and was sure to check the last one.”
Twilight found herself exchanging a look with her brother, half worry and half relief, while Luna arched her neck serenely and continued. “Once we knew the nature of the beast, the rest was comparatively straightforward. We dispatched the guard in advance while my sister and I prepared ourselves, then proceeded to the Everfree to apprehend the creature.”
“I was wondering about that, actually,” said Twilight. “When you arrived you were a little, uh, noticeable.”
Luna laughed shortly. “Yes, I suppose we were. It would have mattered not, for once we had the creature's trail we would have run it down. In truth, we preferred that it focus its attention on us in the hope that it might overlook your brother's Guardsponies.”
Luna's mirth died away, and her face sobered. “Instead, we were too late by fractions. It had already taken its victim and fled across Equestria. We tracked its path back and forth throughout the Everfree Forest with relative ease, for the signs of its passage were well evident to those that know what to look for. Many such trails were found, most strongly on routes that it used often such as that around your friend Fluttershy's house, but its lair was empty and there was no indication of whither it had gone hence.
In the end, we had to admit defeat and return to Canterlot. But mark you well, we will succeed. In the mean time, both my sister and I have inspected its reworked prison over and over again. This time, the casket is flawless. Once we capture it, Celestia will return it to the ocean deeps, where it will remain until the world is unmade. And there the matter will rest, along with the lives of an unknowable number of our little ponies, upon both our consciences,” she finished softly.
Twilight took a few deep breaths before looking up at her mentor with anger still smouldering in her eyes. “I'll help. I am going to help you catch this thing if it's the last thing I ever do.”
“Then your aid will be most welcome – we're going to have a lot of Equestria to cover, but knowing what we do now and going on past experience, we're hopeful that it may take as little as three to six months. Certainly in time to stop it striking again,” said Celestia, turning away.
Shining Armour swallowed. “How long did it take you last time? You know, after you decided to round them all up?”
“As I said, maybe as little as three to six months.”
“And the maximum?” Twilight demanded roughly.
Shining Armour turned to her in shock, but Celestia was already answering. “It won't come to that-”
Twilight whirled on the Princess in fury, “How long?!”
There was a shocked, awkward silence. Finally, Luna was the one to break it. “Two hundred and seventy-three years.”
=====// \=====
None of them felt like eating, but it was obvious that a break was needed and the moment they stepped out into the secluded little courtyard a waiter appeared with a trolley, swiftly followed by others who set out cushions, blankets, and other picnic accoutrements next to a small fountain. Luna thanked them all warmly but as they trooped out again neither she nor Celestia appeared in any hurry to start on the broccoli and Stilton bisque or the quiches.
Rather than join them, Twilight veered off to one side, sitting in the patch of sunlight peeking down into the courtyard through the clouds and tilting her face up to catch the rays, her eyes closed. Shining Armour picked at his plate and tried to make conversation with the Princesses but his eyes kept being drawn back to his sister. Finally, he could take no more. He filled a plate and bowl and levitated it over to rest it on the ground beside her. She shot him an annoyed glare, but he forced himself to ignore it and turn back to the Princesses.
“You do not go to her?” Luna asked in a whisper.
“No. I think she wants a little time to herself. She knows where I am,” he replied shortly. Luna looked bewildered at this, but he didn't feel like explaining.
“So, Shining Armour, will you take a leave of absence to return to Ponyville?” Celestia asked, deftly changing the subject.
“I think so, yes – assuming you can spare me.”
They kept up their safely-neutral conversation until lunch had well and truly petered out. Finally, Luna rose to her hooves. “I think we should continue, assuming everypony is ready?”
“Coming, Princess!” Twilight blurted, jolted out of her thoughts.
The two Alicorns led the way back into the Opal Office, while Twilight fell in by her brother's shoulder.
“I don't need you to mother me,” she hissed sharply.
“I know,” he said blandly. “But speaking of which, we really ought to go and see Mum and Dad later. It's been ages since we've all been together.”
Twilight gave him a dark look but muttered her agreement. Inside, both Celestia and Luna had gathered around the former's desk, and the two Unicorns hurried to join them.
“So. Now that we're all up-to-date on the rest of this affair; Applejack. Do you know who the Prosecutor is, Shining?” Princess Celestia asked.
“Cui Bono, she called herself. Strange name.”
Celestia nodded. “Ah. I see the Chamber have sent one of their best.”
“Autumn Breeze seemed to know her; I don't think they get along.”
“I can well imagine. Cui is very good at what she does – fair, but aggressive, and her manner can be rather... unfortunate, sometimes.”
“Is there anything you can do to help her, Princess?” Twilight begged her mentor.
“Probably not,” Celestia sighed. “As I said before lunch, justice must be seen to be done. I cannot interfere with the due process of the law without irretrievably breaking the system; if I do it for one pony, why would I not do it for all? By all means, if it appears that justice may go awry because certain facts are unknown to them then I would endeavour to correct that, but even then we must be extremely careful to avoid the appearance of partiality.”
“So that's it? After all she's done for you-”
“After all she's done for me, she will have the benefit of a system as fair as we can possibly make it. Justice, even-hoofed and without favour,” Celestia said sternly, a frown creasing her features. “Actions have consequences, Twilight, you know this. As a powerful magician, it was one of the first lessons you learned.”
“I know. I know, but-”
“But it's Applejack?” Celestia suggested in a gentle tone. “I know how dear your friends are to you, my faithful student, and I know how much you want to help her. I would expect nothing less. But consider this; if she had killed him, if your brother's report concluded that he had died before the creature mauled him, what then? Would you still ask me to prevent her facing justice?”
“That's not...”
His sister's voice died away as she realised the Princess's point. I hate to say it, Twily, but it really is the same thing.
Celestia continued. “Applejack understand this. That's why, in keeping with her very nature, she stood up and admitted her fault. She knows what she did was wrong, despite the provocation, and she is willing to face what may come. And she is willing to trust that the system will treat her fairly, and take into account any mitigating factors which may be present.”
Twilight didn't answer, but hung her head. He shuffled over a bit to lean his shoulder against hers and, after a moment, she leaned back into his.
Celestia sighed again, before changing tack. “Having said all that, one of the other problems we face will be public perception. For now, most of the press corps are being relatively sensible.”
She passed them a sheaf of newspapers; the Canterlot Herald on the top was representative of the others,
Twilight quickly leafed through the rest, but all bore similar headlines. “I suppose the articles aren't entirely unreasonable, considering what they know so far?”
Luna was holding another newspaper that she'd kept back from the pile. “My sister is correct; those newspapers you have there are the more traditional publishers but it seems that some few are intent on making hay while the sun shines. This, for example, suggests we may have problems ahead.”
Boggle-eyed, Twilight snatched the paper out of Luna's magical grasp and tore it open to the main story, while Shining Armour read over her shoulder in increasing disbelief,
The shocking murder of a pony in Ponyville may be the result of a jealous love-triangle amongst the Elements of Harmony, The Fox can exclusively reveal. The dead pony, named at the inquest which was opened and adjourned in Ponyville last night as Silver Braise, is reputed to have been the object of affection of Princess Celestia’s personal student and the leader of the Elements of Harmony, Twilight Sparkle. Pretty librarian Twilight reputedly became enamoured of the victim immediately on his arrival in Ponyville.
“It was obvious when they first met that there was chemistry,” said a witness. “They became an item at a party, and I saw them on several romantic outings together. Twilight even found an excuse to be near him by contracting Silver, a carpenter, to refurbish the library. I don’t know exactly what happened, but they had a falling-out and it was over pretty quickly.”
It is believed that he then caught the eye of local farmer and fellow Earth Pony, Applejack, the Element of Honesty. It was notable that during recent tensions in Ponyville over a series of thefts in the town, when Silver and his sister were accused, athletic beauty Applejack was first at his side.
“He was often out at [Applejack's farm]. They had a great rapport, and he also hung out with Applejack's brother,” said a local pony. “It's been obvious for weeks that something's not right amongst the Elements [of Harmony]. They've been meeting regularly and there's clearly been tension between them. Occasionally you could hear them arguing around town,” added another.
Elements of Disharmony
The addition of romance into the equation may well have caused a split within the Elements of Harmony. “It's inevitable that the others will be forced to take sides in such a conflict,” said Professor Bruce of Trottingham University's Department of Logical Positivism. “Given that they are supposed to represent a unifying power of positive attributes, one wonders whether this split will affect their relationship with the powers of the Elements and, crucially, their ability to employ them in the defence of Equestria should they need to. If it came to a crisis, could they put their personal problems to one side and unite long enough to deal with it? You'd like to think so, but with the strong personalities involved I would hesitate to suggest that this will be healed quickly or easily.”
Power Play Gone Wrong?
It is believed that Silver's tragic death may be the result of a desperate ploy by Twilight Sparkle to break up the happy couple and win the stallion back for herself. Inside sources suggest that the powerful Unicorn attempted to engineer a crisis situation by inventing a threat from the Everfree Forest to raise tensions in the town and then spiriting Applejack's younger sister away while telling her love rival that the carpenter was responsible for the filly's disappearance; a scheme worthy of the Canterlot court at its nastiest, where the young Twilight was raised as Princess Celestia's student.
What she couldn't foresee, however, was that the confrontation would turn violent and end in Applejack taking a brutal revenge for the unfortunate Silver's imaginary-
There was a bright flash, and he reeled back in panic as the newspaper went up in flames. An irresistible force shoved him hard in the chest, sending him tumbling across the rug, while a dome of golden light snapped down around Twilight. Untangling his hooves and looking up, he could see Celestia had sprung to her hooves, wings spread in alarm, while Luna's dark-blue magic smothered the glowing embers of the paper.
“Calm, Twilight! Deep breaths!” Celestia said commandingly.
Twilight's chest heaved, her eyes glowing a burning white, “It's OK, I'm calm, I'm calm!” she gasped. Looking closely, he could see little columns of steam where her tears evaporated. “I'm calm! I'm... no I'm not, I'm fu-! ”
There was a flash of golden light and a loud, metallic pop, followed immediately by a loud splash from the little fountain in the courtyard.
Scrambling to his hooves, he galloped after the two Alicorns the short distance out into the courtyard. There, surrounded by a squad of stunned servants, Twilight floundered amidst the sloshing remains of the fountain and clouds of steam. Lifting a hank of sopping mane out of her eyes, she looked around sheepishly and let out a false giggle, fixing the servants with a massive, embarrassed grin. “Um... whoops?”
It was rather lost on the servants, who were too busy bowing at the presence of the Royal Sisters. Golden light lifted her out of the ruins of the fountain, and another quick flash left her completely dry. Meanwhile, Luna coughed awkwardly. “We apologise for the interruption, my little ponies. Please, be about your business. We shall withdraw forthwith.”
Together, the four retreated to the Opal Office. Once the door was firmly closed again Celestia asked, “Are you all right, Twilight?”
Twilight didn't raise her head, instead slowly rubbing at a bruise on one front knee which was beginning to swell. “No. No, I'm not.” she said eventually, her voice trembling a little. “What the hay was that?!”
“Trouble,” said Luna laconically. “How far into the article did you get?”
“Far enough,” said Twilight, her voice rising in outrage, “Far enough to see them call me a lying, psychopathic bunny-boiler, and make Applejack out to be some sort of violent berserker!”
Celestia raised a placating hoof from behind her desk. “Calmly, Twilight, calmly! I understand how you must feel but please, we've had enough fires for today! You see now why we were worried about appearances? Had you continued, you would have seen they are already beginning to suggest that Luna and I were at best duped into aiding your schemes – or at worst, actively seeking to cover up your supposed misdeeds. Your brother's presence has not gone unnoticed, either.”
Twilight shook her head slowly and sank back onto her haunches. “Why? Why would they write this? These, these lies ?”
“Because they can,” Luna said darkly, shooting a dark look at her sister.
Celestia, in turn, eyed Luna sternly. “There is a reason that The Fox is the most heavily-sued newspaper in Equestria, you know. Indeed, that may be one of the reasons for their spite; Luna and I have resisted the owner's lobbying to change libel laws most adamantly. As my personal student you are intimately associated with me, Twilight, and they may seek to embarrass me through attacking you.”
“I'm sorry, Princess! I-”
“I wouldn't have it any other way, my faithful student. I am very proud at not only what you have achieved but also the fine mare you have grown into. You have nothing to apologise for – if anything, I should apologise to you that you suffer on my behalf. As for the rest, it is probably sheer mischief; they create copy by running a lurid story, even if it is not entirely accurate, and they can then report on the fallout.”
“Even if it's not entirely accurate?” Twilight hooted in disbelief. “Did you even read that trash?”
Shining Armour winced at the angry disrespect in her voice.
“Yes, I did,” Celestia said mildly. “And while you are right to be angry, it is leavened with a surprising number of facts – even if the conclusions drawn from them are ridiculous. They have done a lot of digging or had a lot of luck in covering this story in such a short time.”
“So what now? Surely we can't just let that slide?”
“It sounds to me like they could do with receiving another lawsuit,” Shining Armour growled in agreement.
“There is certainly grounds there for libel in the accusations that Twilight manipulated her friend into killing Silver. By all means serve them with proceedings; most newspapers monitor the court rolls and would certainly report it – which would make it a comment in itself, even if you said nothing else. If you do make some sort of statement I would caution you, however, that they will seek to twist your words in any way that supports their angle.”
“You are far too passive in this, Celestia,” Luna scowled. “We have had words on this subject before.”
Celestia sighed. “My sister believes that access to the Court for reporters should be a matter of royal favour. I am loathe to restrict ponies' freedoms, but-”
“Nay, not a matter of favour but a matter of privilege! Should they abuse that privilege by publishing untruths, it should be withdrawn and they can scrabble for stories from Associated Pony Press instead.”
“They would crow from the rooftops that it proved we had something to hide,” Celestia pointed out. “And they would simply approach anypony with an axe to grind outside of our walls, where any such decree would have no effect.”
“They will do so anyway if it fits their purpose, so let them crow from the outside! Mud sticks, sister, and ponies remember. If we are to stand for truth, then we must stand against them.”
“Perhaps you are right, Luna, but I fear that there is no straightforward solution. In the meantime, there will be – must be – a statement from the Palace. Already we are swamped with reporters asking for comment. The question is, how much do we tell them? Again, we must be careful not to cause undue alarm – and also not to say anything which will trip us up later.”
“Why tell them anything?” Shining Armour asked. “Applejack's been arrested, making the whole thing sub judice , anyway?”
“A fine point, Shining Armour,” said Luna approvingly. “It would also address your concerns about impropriety, sister, as it would not influence the outcome of the police investigation. Once any charges have been announced and the course of proceedings is clear, perhaps we can answer some few of their questions.”
“Very well. 'We deeply regret the news of the death of one of our little ponies in Ponyville, however due to the ongoing police investigation it is inappropriate for us to comment further at this time. It is important that their investigation proceeds freely and independently, and until such time as the investigation is concluded all enquiries should be directed to the police.' Does that sound about right?”
“Adequate for now,” Luna agreed. “Perhaps one of your scribes can cast it in more flowery prose.”
“Twilight? Shining Armour? Can you think of anything else we should give them?”
“Given the choice, I wouldn't give them the steam off my... coffee.” He caught himself just in time, and tried not to blush at Celestia's knowing look.
“Why not tell them everything? Twilight asked. “I mean, you know what it is now, right? It's not like this thing is going to be reading the newspapers or anything?”
“Because it would cause unnecessary panic over trivial matters which could devolve into serious harm,” Celestia explained gently. “Somepony loses something, a pony goes missing, or even just stays out late? If this is all over the newspapers, then if even one pony leaps to the conclusion that the creature is there and out to get them – and they will, there's always one – then it won't take long before it starts to snowball and suddenly we have a problem of the public taking matters into their own hooves. They will single somepony out – the new pony, the quiet pony, the strange pony – and then we are in for a repeat of what so nearly happened in Ponyville, but multiplied out in towns and cities across Equestria. By keeping this to ourselves we have an entire year at the very least in which to find it – and all those problems can be avoided. I'm sure you remember the trouble that paediatrician had in St. Bridles a few years ago?”
Twilight sighed, and nodded in acquiescence. “You're probably right.”
Celestia continued, “Then we are agreed – which leaves the hunt for the creature itself. You wish to continue to help us, Twilight?”
“More than anything. This thing has to be stopped, and I don't think I could live with myself if I tried to walk away,” Twilight said adamantly.
“Then we will discuss this further tomorrow. You look exhausted, Twilight. Get some rest, because we will have need of your sharp mind at its full capacity.”
“I don't know that I have time. I need to see my parents, and I also need to arrange a lawyer.”
“You intend to sue, then?” Luna asked.
“Yes, but that can wait. This is for Applejack; she needs a professional's help, whether she admits it or not.”
Celestia nodded thoughtfully. “Obviously, as your Princess I can only wish you luck in your search. However, as a friend, I suggest that you could do worse than to try Pro Bono on Chancery Lane.”
Shining Armour frowned. “Pro Bono? Any relation to the Prosecutor?”
“Sisters, but although they are very different ponies I am told that they are equally adept in court. I imagine that this case would catch her interest, if nothing else.”
“I'll see if Dad recommends anypony, but I'll add her to the list,” said Twilight, rising to her hooves and dropping a curtsey. “And... thank you. Both of you. I'm sorry if I'm a bit edgy right now.”
Celestia gave her a warm smile and rounded the desk to stand in front of her. “I laid a large burden on your shoulders, Twilight. You have born it exceedingly well, and I cannot complain if your patience runs a little short from time to time.”
Twilight didn't look up. “I just wish-”
Her words failed her, and Celestia laid a comforting hoof on her student's shoulder. “We all do, Twilight. Something I have had to learn over the centuries is, sometimes there is nothing more you can do. And that thought often brings you no comfort at all.”
=====// \=====
=====// \=====
Home. A simple word. He'd left long ago to enter Officer Cadet School, but he'd never stopped thinking of his parents' house as home and this room in particular as his.
It looked nothing like the room of the colt who left it; his parents had kept it unchanged for him for several years, used on the occasional home visit or weekend pass, but gradually the books and posters disappeared, the walls changed colour, the awards and ribbons all went into the attic. Finally, even the furniture which bore the scars of his teenage years had been replaced, but none of those changes had been able to remove that mental marker in his head that said, 'mine'.
Maybe it was the lack of permanence in his life. He'd gone from barracks block to single Officers' quarters to the Captain's suite in the Palace, but in all that time none of them had ever been his . Maybe in time that would change, but until then he still held this room in a special affection.
He straightened the one photo that he'd insisted his mother keep hanging on the wall, one taken years ago on a beautiful August summer's day. In it, he stood sandwiched between his two favourite girls; Cadence on his right, balancing on two left hooves to lean up against him with her cheek pressed to his, a radiant smile on her face, while a freshly cutie marked purple filly was caught mid-ecstatic leap to his left, her face contorted in foalish glee. For all Dad teased him about the stunned mullet in the middle – and he had to admit that he sort of did have a piscine look of befuddlement – it was the one photo he prized above all others.
He let out a long sigh and sank down on the bed. For the moment, he'd have to do without the light of both of those two mares in his life. Cadence was out of town again on business in Vanhoover, and now Twilight was refusing to speak to him.
They had found the strange mare recommended by the Princess in the rabbit-warren of courtyards, offices, and gardens, otherwise known as Graze Inn. In contrast to her sister she was broad of hip and shoulder, almost plump, with a tan coat and russet mane and her dreamy blue eyes hidden behind rose-coloured spectacles. Her initial reticence vanished when she learned who her visitors were – and turned to almost repellent enthusiasm when Twily explained the main purpose of their visit.
“Absolutely I'll take it on. How could I not? I mean, she's the Element of Honesty – do you know how rare it is to find an honest mare in my line of work?”
Twilight looked askance at her. “Yes, but like I said; she's prepared to plead guilty to just about anything. In some ways you'll be fighting against her as well as for her.”
Pro Bono nodded energetically. “That's because her conscience is eating at her, and she thinks she knows that answers. Sounds to me like it's the questions she's got wrong. I've dealt with a few like this before; the problem's not getting a straight answer, it's asking the questions so you get the full context of her actions.”
She had also taken on the litigation against The Fox. He had stopped at a corner shop and bought two copies of the offending paper to show the lawyer – Twilight managed to incinerate the first one before he got to the counter – and she exuded absolute confidence in winning easily.
“It won't even get to court. I'm telling you, they'll stall until the day before and then cave in. You say Applejack will back you up on all this? Easy, then, it'll be a massacre. I'll file tomorrow, and you can start planning on where to spend your bits. Ol' Page's going to find this one expensive!”
Twilight shook her head. “It's not about the money. Give it to charity, or a school or something, but it's the principle of the thing.”
“Yeah, yeah, the only problem with these sorts of actions is that it’s not enough to rage against the lie. You’ve got to replace it with the truth. Those scumbags will print a retraction, all right – on page nineteen, between the Classifieds and the Pony Loses Goldfish article, you know what I'm saying? Celebrity is currency – you're one of the Elements of Harmony, so you've got the use that effectively to get your message out there.”
She had rambled on, half PR-speak, half legalese, but eventually Twilight had been convinced enough to agree to her hefty fees. He had been in favour of looking for a lawyer of more gravitas and a little less flamboyance, but in the end he'd concluded that if she was half as good in court as she was at soundbites and clichés, she'd be a world-beater. They had left with Pro Bono's promise to meet them on tomorrow night's Friendship Express to Ponyville before trekking through the back streets to find their parents' house.
Dinner had been a stilted affair. Despite Mum and Dad's delight at seeing both their children and being together as a family again, it was obvious that Twilight was exhausted physically and emotionally, and that things in general weren't right. Finally, Twilight had made her excuses and, with a kiss for Dad and a hug for Mum, shuffled off to her old room, complaining of a headache. He rose and followed her, noting the look from his father that said, we'll talk about this later .
He had found her slumped on the edge of her bed, staring into space.
“Hey. Are you OK?”
“Not really.” She was silent for a long moment, and he let it stretch out comfortably between them. “Do you think I'm doing the right thing?”
“In what way – searching for the creature? For Applejack? Suing those flankheads at the paper?”
“Any of them. All of them. I don't know, Shiny, I just feel a bit lost. Maybe it's because I'm tired.”
He hugged her reassuringly. “Yes, I think you are doing the right things – on all counts. If I can help, you know just to ask.”
“Thanks, Shiny. Something's bothering you, though.”
She was unfortunately good at reading his expression.
“Yes, I suppose it is. Suing The Fox is the right thing to do, but I just hope we don't live to regret it; they're either going to back down or it's going to get nasty. I guess we just have to be prepared for that.”
“That's why I agreed with the Princess this morning. The less we say about this in public, hopefully the less confrontational it will be.”
“I hope you're right, otherwise anything they can dig up will be all over their front page.”
“So we hit them with another lawsuit; they'll get the point eventually.”
“That's the thing, it doesn't have to be inaccurate. They can report facts and still twist it to make you look like the bad guy. I mean, say you did date Silver; they'll try to claim that justifies what they've come out with.”
She gave him a flat, hostile look. “You did not just go there!”
“Oh, come on, Twilight! You're a young, single mare, he was a young, single stallion. Who cares if you did? You're acting like it's something to be ashamed of!”
She dropped her head into her hooves and let out a growl of frustration. “Well I didn't, all right?”
“So what are you so defensive about?”
“Because I care!” she snarled, her head jerking up to glare at him. “I care because I liked him! I care because I had to lie to him and pretend to be his friend just so I could use my friendship to spy on him, and you know what? I'm ashamed of that! I'm ashamed that I didn't get a chance to apologise to him for standing back and letting him cop all sorts of trouble because it was vaguely convenient for me! What's worse is that it was all completely pointless and it got him killed! So don't give me any horseapples about being defensive, Shiny, because I'm not in the mood!”
He just looked at her, aghast at her sudden rage but unable to think of what to say.
She snorted harshly and turned away from him. “Get out.”
“Twily-”
“I said, get out! I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to see you. Just go, Shiny, please.”
And so he had gone, feeling sick at his sister's outburst. Not willing to face company and the inevitable questions, he had crossed the hall to his own room. Maybe he needed some time alone to think, too.
=====// \=====
Things hadn't improved the following day. Twilight had pointedly ignored him over breakfast, much to their parents' confusion, and in the end it had almost been a relief to turn her over to the Princesses and get back to his office where he could plan his absence with his Adjutant. Almost – he still had to finish signing off on the annual regimental accounting returns, something he'd rather hoped his Adjutant had taken care of in his absence.
The tedious task took nearly all day before he could conclude with a reasonable degree of certainty that the Catering Corps hadn't cooked the books, the Airborne Divisions weren't being paid chicken feed, and his Cavalry units hadn't traded their sabres for feather dusters. By the time he'd finished briefing his second-in-command on what to do in his absence, he barely had time to ram some personal items into his saddlebags and hurry across town to catch the train.
Twilight greeted him on the platform with a smile, which was reassuring, but there was no sign of their lawyer. Minutes passed with both of them anxiously checking the station clock but just as the train was about to leave she made it a dead heat, galloping into the carriage just as the doors were closed, red-faced but with a beaming smile.
“Sorry, sorry, had another client in and lost track of time,” she panted, wriggling out of a pair of battered, threadbare saddlebags which were slowly leaking quills, papers and clothes, and dumping the contents all over her seat. She plucked a creased piece of paper from the mess and hoofed it over. “Ah, here we go! My assistant brought this in just as I was leaving; it'll be served first thing tomorrow morning.”
=====// \=====
THE HIGH COURT OF JUSTICE PRINCESSES' BENCH DIVISION B E T W E E N:-
TWILIGHT SPARKLE (Plaintiff)- and - (i) RED TOP (ii) THE FOX GROUP NEWSPAPERS LTD (Defendants)WRIT OF SUMMONS
TO THE DEFENDANTS RED TOP and THE FOX GROUP NEWSPAPERS LTD
THIS WRIT OF SUMMONS has been issued against you by the above-named Plaintiff in respect of the claim set out overleaf.
Within 14 days after the service of this Writ on you, counting the day of service, you must either satisfy the claim or return to the Court Office mentioned below the accompanying ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF SERVICE stating therein whether you intend to contest these proceedings.
If you fail to satisfy the claim or to return the Acknowledgement within the time stated, or if you return the Acknowledgement without stating therein an intention to contest the proceedings, the Plaintiff may proceed with the action and judgement may be entered against you forthwith without further notice.
Issued from the Central Office of the High Court this 31st day of May 1002
_________________
NOTE : This Writ may not be served later than 4 calendar months, or if leave is required to effect service out of the jurisdiction, 6 months beginning with that date unless renewed by order of the Court.
_________________
IMPORTANT
Directions for Acknowledgement of Service are given with the accompanying form.
Plaintiff's claim is for:
(i) damages for libel, which shall not exceed ERB150,000, contained in a newspaper article published on 30 May 1002 in The Fox newspaper headed "Elements Love Triangle in Killing Mystery"; and
(ii) a full retraction printed in The Fox newspaper with similar prominence to the offending article; and
(iii) an injunction to restrain the Defendants whether by herself, through her servants, agents, or otherwise howsoever from further publishing or causing to be published the said or any similar words defamatory of the Plaintiff.
THIS WRIT was issued on behalf of Twilight Sparkle, Golden Oaks Library, Ponyville
=====// \=====
“That'll have ol' Page choking on his tiramisu, I guarantee it!”
“Whoa!” Shining Armour exclaimed, turning over for the details. “Not even a warning letter first?”
“Nah, no point. This'll get their attention whereas they'd just ignore a letter. Threats are ten a bit for them.”
“Well, that's great, but I doubt even Front Page eats tiramisu for breakfast?” Twilight said, snaring two pairs of balled-up socks which were rolling towards the far end of the carriage and floating them back to their owner.
“Oh, he'll know tonight, trust me!” said Pro Bono gleefully, setting a book and a dog-eared folder on the little fold-out table in front of her and carelessly sweeping the rest of her belongings back into her saddlebags. “He's got too many contacts for it not to get back to him. As for your other problem-”
“-It's best not discussed here,” Twilight said firmly.
“As for your other problem,” Pro Bono repeated, “I need to keep working up a case-file, so you'll have to crack on and entertain yourselves without me for a while.”
And with that, she buried her nose in her work. Shining Armour had braced himself for an evening of long, rambling soliloquies from the lawyer but gradually had to re-assess that assumption as the trip wore on and she scowled in ferocious concentration, poring through her book and scribbling endless notes in the folder. Perhaps the dreamy, trite, cod-philosopher act was just that – an act to lull the unwary pony into thinking she was a harmless eccentric. Plus, she was unlikely to have Celestia's recommendation if there wasn't a razor-sharp mind in there somewhere. He pondered that as the Express roared through the darkening landscape, his sister silent at his side.
The question of what to do with Twilight bothered him all the way to Ponyville. He decided to try talking to her again, but only once they had dropped the lawyer off at her hotel and they were safely back in the library. There were only a few other passengers in the carriage, ponies that he didn't recognise, but this was no time to be airing family arguments in public – or in front of their lawyer.
Arrival at Ponyville station was enough to jolt Pro Bono out of her work, and with a few long, slow blinks the amiable, head-in-the-clouds look settled over her face again. “Ponyville, yeah? Never been before, but I'm hearing 'bucolic idyll', you know?”
He managed to avoid rolling his eyes as the three of them trotted through the streets to the hotel that Twilight had organised – he winced when he thought of how much all this must be costing her – while Pro Bono rambled on. “Wow, different times, different place, eh? It's pretty and that, a real reminder of life in simpler, slower times that we just don't get in the big city. No offence, but it'd kill me to live here.”
Spike was waiting for them at the library, playing Solitare while nibbling on a shard of aquamarine. “Oh. Hey, you're back! I don't know if you guys have eaten, but there's some stuff in the kitchen.” The little dragon swept his cards into a ragged heap and stood up, setting off for the back of the library.
Twilight intercepted him and gave him a hug. “Thanks, Spike!”
Together, the two set a pot of barley stew in the fireplace, where Spike re-heated it with a long breath of flame.
“Careful you don't send that to Celestia,” Shining Armour joked.
Spike gave him a very sheepish look. “I may have actually done that, once.”
“What?” Shining Armour started to laugh, making the little dragon blush.
“It wasn't my fault! Pinkie Pie tickled me with a feather in mid-flame and made me choke!”
“I don't remember this?” said Twilight, chuckling.
Spike rubbed a paw over his face. “The Princess sent it back with a note; 'Excellent stew, but I prefer more garlic'. So, how was Canterlot?” Spike asked hurriedly, cutting across their loud guffaws of laughter.
“The same as ever. I've got a lot to tell you later,” Twilight said, still trying to control her sniggers.
Spike squinted critically at her for a second, then shrugged. “If it'll keep until morning, I was about to go up to bed?”
“Sure thing; sleep well, Spike.”
The door closed behind him, and Twilight doled out a couple of bowls and passed one to Shining Armour. They ate in silence until Twilight asked, “So how is it, Shiny? More garlic, d'you think?”
He snorted, and barely avoiding redecorating the table with the spoonful hovering in front of him. “I think it's fine as it is. Maybe it doesn't travel well?”
They both concentrated on finishing their dinner, and when Shining Armour levitated their empty bowls over to the sink he asked, “How are you holding up, Twily? You've looked absolutely done in by this time for the last few evenings.”
“I'm OK,” she replied, putting the pot back in the fridge and closing the door. “The first few days were a real struggle, but I'm gradually getting better. It's been kinda stressful.”
He took a deep breath. “Yeah, about that. I'm sorry I upset you last night. I didn't mean anything negative about you or Silver, I was just trying to point out how the press will try to twist things.”
Twilight sighed and looked away, staring out into the darkness. “I'm sorry, too. I over-reacted.”
“You didn't say anything you didn't mean, though, I think.”
“No. I hated lying to them, Shiny. I hated the sneaking around, I hated hiding like a coward while they got abused for things I knew they didn't do. I hate that I didn't do the right thing, Shiny, and now that Silver's dead...
“Pinkie Pie threw them a welcoming party when they first arrived. I guess I'd been studying too much, because I fell asleep. Silver noticed, and he got Mrs. Cake to bring a blanket down for me. When they pulled it up over me, I grabbed his leg.”
He could just picture it, but knew better than to laugh. “You used to do that to Cadence when you were little, too,” he noted.
Twilight blinked, startled. “What, really? Anyway, my friends thought it was funny and teased me about it for a while. Other than that, Silver came out star-watching with me once. It was one of those weird things where he could tell why I'd invited him, but he wanted to see if I'd tell him why. Finally, he flat-out asked me, and I told him as little as I could get away with. And then I wrote to the mayor of their home town about them, and when that got back to him... well.”
“You said you liked him,” he asked gently. “Really liked him, liked him?”
“No. Maybe. I don't know.” Twilight sighed again, chewing her lip for a minute. “He was pretty easy to like, you know? He was easy-going, talented, and by no means stupid, but I was always aware that I was being less-than-honest with him – and he knew it, too. Nothing was ever going to happen between us like that, and after a while he gave up trying to get anything out of me and just avoided me instead. In an ideal world without this whole mess, would anything have happened? Probably not. Besides, I really don't think I could have competed with Cloud Kicker.”
“I think you sell yourself short, Twily. You're a good-looking mare with an awful lot going for you, you know?”
She turned back from the window and gave him a rueful smile. “Not like that. Silver and Cloud Kicker had something special – a chemistry. You just needed to see the two of them together. They would always have had that, and I'm pretty sure that Silver and I wouldn't have had the same sort of thing.”
“He would have been a friend, though.”
“Yeah.” Twilight looked thoughtful for a second, then shook herself and changed the subject. “So, what were you planning to do tomorrow?”
“I ought to go and check in with Nightjack and see what the situation is. Depending on whether the police have finished up at the Berry farm, I'll either send the Guard detachment there back to Canterlot, or maybe request a relief for them if this is going to drag on. After that, it will depend on what the Prosecutor wants to do. I'm pretty sure she'll have questions for you, but if she's anything like we were told just try not to blow your top, all right?”
“I'll be all right,” she promised. “I don't know what happens lawyer-wise but maybe I can get Pro Bono to sit in on any interviews with me?”
“That's probably a good idea. I expect she'll want to be straight down to see Applejack tomorrow morning anyway, so ask her on the way.” He took a deep breath before continuing, “There was one other thing that Princess Celestia warned me about. She sent a chariot team to visit Silver's parents. They were to break the news to them, and then fly them to Ponyville if they wanted. I'd expect they'll be here in the next day or two.”
Twilight's ears flattened and she took a step back, her eyes widening. “Oh my gosh! W-what do I do? What do I say to them?” She looked wildly around the little kitchen like Silver's parents were about to pop out of the cupboards and start demanding explanations.
He held up a soothing hoof. “They may not even come, so try not to worry about it for now. And if they do, you don't have to speak to them if you don't want to. I think the Princess just wanted to do something for them, and while she can't bring him back she can at least make sure that they have a chance to see to his affairs properly.”
Twilight started pacing, her hooves tapping a rapid beat on the floor. “If the Princess is so worried about secrecy and appearances then flying his parents in isn't exactly going to go unnoticed, is it? I mean, not that they shouldn't, or anything, but... you know.”
“I think she feels responsible for what happened. And it's not just about him – from what she said there might have been dozens of other ponies over the years. I wasn't going to question her, or disagree. I was just told to look after them and pick up the tab for the duration of their stay. That'll come out of Celestia's personal accounts, so if the newspapers want to make a big thing of it all they're going to do is make themselves look stupid.”
The room was far too small for Twilight's restlessness, and he held out a hoof to stop her in her tracks. “Hey. Like I said, there's no point worrying about it now. We'll deal with it when it happens, so for now, just... try to relax. I'll help you if I can.”
Twilgiht closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath, and her fidgeting slowly ceased. “Thanks for everything, big brother.” Reaching out, she pulled a foreleg around his neck and squeezed him tightly. “Still best friends forever.”
He had to smile at their old foalhood catch-phrase.
“Best friends forever.”
=====// \=====
Shining Armour came back from his morning run to find the library had gained a couple of extra mares in his absence; Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie were clustered in the kitchen with Twilight, talking intently. There was no sign of Rarity, for which he was eternally grateful, so he slipped in as unobtrusively as possibly, receiving only a smile from his sister, an enthusiastic wave from Pinkie, and a distracted look from Rainbow Dash as she filled Twilight in on all the gossip.
“-it turns out that she's been working down at Sweet Apple Acres, helping Big Mac.”
“It's hard to imagine Fluttershy pulling ploughs or anything,” said Twilight, shaking her head.
“She said something about bees and stuff, so I guess she's making sure all the apple flowers get pollinated. I feel kinda bad – here I am worried about Applejack, and meanwhile she's off actually doing something for Applejack's family. You know she'll be worried about the farm.”
“Yeah, and sometimes all you need is an extra set of hooves,” Pinkie chimed in, “Or wings. Or hooves and wings if it's really complicated, or even hooves and wings and a chin? Chins can be really useful when-”
Shaking his head at the increasingly-weird digression, he slipped out to clean himself up and try to make himself presentable. By the time he came back downstairs again, Twilight was pacing impatiently by the front door, having just let her friends out.
“Are you ready?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Some breakfast would be nice?”
Twilight clapped a hoof to her forehead in exasperation. “Sorry, sorry, I didn't think! Follow me.”
He bolted his muesli as fast as he decently could while Twilight tried to distract herself with another cup of tea, but by the time he'd finished she was practically trotting on the spot. The short trip through the grey drizzle to the lawyer's hotel only took a few minutes, but he felt curiously naked being out in public without the familiar weight of his armour. It had become such an ingrained part of his daily life that its absence nagged at him the whole way.
They found Pro Bono in her room trying to sew one side of her saddlebags back together with a length of twine where it had split along its seams, the fabric frayed and worn through. “Bear with me, bear with me, I can fix this,” she promised between stitches.
Twilight looked ready to self-combust from frustration and impatience. “I'm sure there's somewhere in town where you can buy a new one.”
“That's not the point. I've had these for years and I refuse to bow to the diktats of a consumer -exploitative throw-away lifestyle.” Tying a final knot, she began shovelling notes and papers back into the repaired bag, but when she swung them onto her back there was a loud ripping noise swiftly followed by the fluttering rustle of a cascade of paper. There was a brief silence while she adjusted her rose-coloured glasses. “Well, horseapples!”
Twilight let out an angry huff. “Wait here.”
She stormed out, and Shining watched her gallop back the way they had come through the window. Pro Bono abandoned her efforts to gather everything up again and joined him in watching her go. “Sounds like she's a little het up this morning?”
You don't say? “She's had a pretty stressful time recently,” he said diplomatically.
“Ah, she's got to learn to let the little things float on by. Otherwise the river of life gets a log-jam, you know what I'm saying?”
Yeah, I'll let you tell her that , he thought.
Twilight returned a few minutes later and slapped her own saddlebags on the table. “Can we go now?” she demanded pointedly.
Pro Bono started to protest, then thought better of it when she saw the look in Twilight's eye. “I don't... think that'll be a problem.”
Outside, the drizzle had eased, but the leaden skies still leaked the occasional droplet into the brisk southerly. Shining Armour and the lawyer bent their heads against the wind and trailed after Twilight, who set off at a rapid pace.
A pink blur flashed across the edges of their vision near the town hall, causing them both to stop and look around, but the only thing out of place was a brightly-coloured party hat that had appeared on Pro Bono's head. They exchanged a confused look, but Twilight hadn't noticed and was forging ahead. With a jerk of his head Shining Armour indicated that they should follow, but seconds later it happened again – this time Pro Bono was sporting a large wicker hamper on her back and a lei of flowers was spinning around her neck.
For once, the lawyer was lost for words. “Uh... what?”
Shining Armour shrugged in bewilderment. “I have no idea.”
“Are you two coming?” Twilight demanded, having finally noticed that they were no longer following her. “Where did you get all that?”
“It just... well, appeared,” Pro Bono said, absently nibbling on the flowery wreath.
“Oh. That's probably just Pinkie Pie,” said Twilight, turning and continuing on her way.
“What in Equestria is that supposed to mean?”
Shining Armour shrugged again. “Just go with it for now. We can ask someone later.”
At police station, they found Bluebell chatting to Twilight over the public counter. She gave him a bright smile. “Good morning, Colonel! And...?”
“Hallo Bluebell, this is Pro Bono. She'll be Applejack's lawyer.” said Shining Armour as the lawyer lifted her basket onto the counter and pulled off the party hat, much to Bluebell's confusion.
“Of course. Welcome to Ponyville, Ms. Bono. Uh, what's this?”
“It just appeared on my back on the way here. You've got some crazy ponies in this town, you know?” she said, gripping the napkin covering the basket's contents in her teeth.
Bluebell blinked. “Uh, that might not-”
There was a loud crack and suddenly the air was filled with a rain of sparkling confetti. Bluebell sighed as a crepe-paper banner fluttered down and draped itself over her ears. “Pinkie Pie?”
“Pinkie Pie,” Twilight agreed, hiding a grin as her magic neatly folded up the banner and passed it back to the stunned lawyer. “On the bright side, I bet you'll want to check the rest of the basket.”
Pro Bono cautiously poked her nose into the basket. “Hey, wow! Yeah, muffins, cupcakes... chocolate éclairs! Why did it have to be chocolate éclairs!? My waistline will never forgive me!”
“Oh well, at least it's not a total loss. The others are out the back, so if you'd like to follow me?”
They filed through after the Constable and squeezed into the little custody suite. The two other police ponies were flanking the custody desk, which was occupied by Cui Bono. The lawyer's face took on a stern, disapproving look at the sight of the new arrivals, but Nightjack did his best to pay host while Bluebell quietly sneaked back to her post.
“Ah, the very ponies we were just talking about. Welcome back Twilight, Colonel. And I'm assuming you're going to act for Applejack, ma'am? I'm Sergeant Nightjack of Ponyville Police, Detective Inspector Autumn Breeze from the Flying Squad, and Senior Counsel Cui Bono from the Chamber of Justice.”
“Pro Bono. Nice to meet you,” the lawyer said cooly, smirking at her sister.
Cui pushed back from the desk with a snort and took a step around it to glare down at the other mare through her blue-coloured spectacles. “You! Why did it have to be you? Of all the lawyer's in Canterlot, couldn't they have picked somepony else?”
Pro's smirk widened into a beaming grin. “Nope – only the best would do!” With that, the two mares squealed happily and threw their hooves around each other, chattering excitedly.
“Looking good, sis, looking good!”
“You too, that jacket really suits you! Neighman Marecus, again?”
“They had a sale last week, and I couldn't resist. Oh, I caught you in court last week, Crown v. Hatstand et. al. ? Loved the Olfacere Rosaceae defence, you left old Sharp Practice in a heap with that one!”
“Likewise, I hear about you and the Non Facile Sit Viridis in the retrial of Hard Bargain's gang.”
Behind the lawyers, Autumn Breeze was staring at Cui Bono in stunned disbelief, presumably at the sudden emergence of a hitherto-unforeseen equine side to the Prosecutor, and Nightjack was watching both the lawyers and his colleague's reaction with a raised eyebrow and a faint smile hovering on his lips.
Beside him, he heard Twilight blow out a slow, controlled breath. “Well, while they're occupied, could I see Applejack?”
Nightjack shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
He led them the short distance across the room to where they could look in on the orange farm pony, lying on her bed. Her face was set in an intense frown as she stared into space, her front left hoof drumming a rapid beat on the mattress, but when she saw Twilight a wide, genuine smile broke across her face.
“Twilight! Boy howdy, ain't you a sight for sore eyes?!”
Twilight gave her a cautious smile in return. “Hey, Applejack. How're you doing?”
“Well, OK, I guess. I'm getting a little sick of being cooped up in here, but other than that I can't complain.”
“I noticed,” said Twilight. She was staring at Applejack's tapping hoof, and after a second the mare caught on and snatched it off the mattress like it was on fire. She looked around helplessly for somewhere to put it and ended up resting it back where it had come from, looking sheepish.
“Like I said, I ain't used to all this.”
Twilight leaned closer. “Don't worry, we're going to get you out of here. I found you a lawyer – that's her, over there. Pro Bono.”
Applejack frowned in confusion. “She's doing this for free?”
Twilight rolled her eyes. “No, that's her name!”
“Er... oh! Well, thanks. Look, I don't know how much all this is costing ya, but I'll pay ya back, I swear.”
“Don't worry about that, Applejack, my friends are more important than money.”
“An Apple always pays her dues, sugar cube. It might take me a while, but-”
“I said don't worry about it! I'll spend my money on whatever I want, now for once in your life swallow your pride and accept some help when you need it!” Twilight barked.
Applejack chuckled nervously. “I ain't in no place for pride, right now, sugar cube.” She took a deep breath. “I'm in a bit of a jam here, Twi – and I don't mean the Zap Apple kind. What do we do now?”
Twilight looked reflexively at Nightjack, who took over. “First, we – the Prosecutor and police – will brief your lawyer, then I dare say she'll want to spend some time discussing the case with you. You two will be able to do that in private.”
“And I also want to go over your statement, Miss Sparkle. I have a few questions for you.”
Twilight jumped a little, and turned to see Cui Bono looking at her. “Uh... sure?”
“You are not obliged to say anything or to answer any questions,” Pro Bono chimed in, earning her an irritated look from her sister.
“No, it's OK,” Twilight said.
“And as for you, Colonel-” Nightjack began, but Shining Armour cut him off.
“I was going to head out to the farm and see how my Guardsponies were holding up. Depending on whether you still want a guard at the scene, I'll either dismiss them or get a relief party from Canterlot.”
“I was going to head out there myself, so perhaps we can discuss it on the way?”
“You don't need to stay?”
“No, Autumn Breeze and Bluebell have everything in hoof.”
Outside, Shining Armour fell into step with the old police pony, who advanced through the town with that same firm, unhurried stride that he had noticed before, seemingly enjoying the grey day. It was only when they crossed over the little bridge out of town that he spoke. “So, Colonel, how was your trip to Canterlot?”
He shrugged, concentrating on stepping over the water-filled rut which lay where the brick of the bridge gave way to the hard-packed dirt of the road. “Interesting.”
“I see. Anything you can tell me about this case?”
“Not really, I'm afraid. The Princesses decided that it was better not to interfere with your investigation.”
“Huh. Is that so? There's a difference between interfering and withholding material evidence! Who knows what conclusions we might come to if we don't have all the facts?”
“I understand, but they seem to think that you have enough information to get to things right.”
“Is that so? Well, let's take your sister, for example. Applejack tells us that Silver was alive when she left him. She tells Twilight, who goes to see shortly afterwards and claims he was dead when she got there, ripped to bits. Well, we don’t have any independent verification of either claim but of the two ponies, Applejack had a little blood on her hooves and nowhere else – the guardsponies that helped her into the house would have noticed – whereas Twilight was absolutely covered in it.”
“Now wait a minute-”
“Furthermore, it was common knowledge that he and Twilight had fallen out. Over what, we don’t know. Politics, philosophy? The best way to brew a pot of tea? Who knows. Maybe she was jealous of Cloud Kicker and took her opportunity to ensure that if she couldn’t have him, nopony could.”
Shining Armour stopped in the middle of the road and stared at Nightjack in shock. “Whoa! Where did that come from?! Look, she was there for what, all of a minute?”
“That’s a good question, because we really don’t know that, either,” Nightjack continued implacably. “It was a reasonably short period of time but, understandably, nopony was looking at a clock. So it’s certainly conceivable that she could have seized her chance to kill him and then tried to blame it on this creature from the Everfree Forest that she claims has been hanging around. A creature that nopony other than her knows about, with the exception of her friends – and she is the source of everything they know. That’s planning. That’s premeditation and some serious planning – and who do we know who’s a highly-organised, slightly-obsessive pony?”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe this. Go on, then, how did she kill him? Where’s the murder weapon?”
“She’s a powerful and highly-skilled Unicorn. She could no doubt wield multiple weapons with extreme force. And afterwards? She could have done anything – melted them down, transmuted them, teleported them to the bottom of a lake or half a mile underground.”
“Wow, you’ve got an answer for everything. I guess you’ve really got it all figured out,” he said acidly. “So why haven’t you arrested her yet? Or have you noticed that she’s been a complete wreck, crying her eyes out ever since?”
“That doesn’t always mean anything, either. Killing somepony would be a tremendous emotional upheaval for her. And believe me, I’ve seen that sort of reaction before from ponies who have done terrible, terrible things. You remember the Sunset Shores case? The big ponyhunt for the two masked Earth ponies who she claimed murdered her husband and foalnapped her little colts? Bawled her eyes out, tearful interviews with the press, the works – right up until a bright PC thought to check the newly turned-over vegetable patch at the bottom of the garden.”
“I remember. I think I was at school at the time. But this is completely different!”
“Is it? And yet everything I have said is either completely true or reasonable conjecture. Do you see where I’m coming from, Colonel? Are you starting to get my point? As a matter of fact, no, I don’t believe Twilight killed him – but equally, there’s just about enough that I can't discount it.”
Shining Armour ground his teeth. “I’ll speak to Princess Celestia, but I can't guarantee what sort of response I’ll get. Come on, Nightjack, you must have known things were going on for months.”
Nightjack sighed. “Bluebell and I investigated some of the thefts – the ones that were reported, at least – but there wasn’t much to find. Most of the victims were very vague about where and when they’d last seen their missing items. We found a few marks outside the houses, but nothing distinct enough to be a usable hoofprint. I also spoke to Silver and Summer, seeing as the grapevine seemed to have correlated their arrival with the start of this mess, but that didn’t go anywhere, either. This murder investigation is the first time I've been presented with solid, verifiable facts, and I'm finding that I'm being kept in the dark. As I've said before, I don't particularly care for that sort of thing.”
Shining Armour nodded to concede the point, and Nightjack snorted and changed the subject. “Your sister seems pretty tense. I saw The Fox the other day; they've got a bloody nerve printing that, haven't they?!”
He shook his head. “Unbelievable! Twilight's going after them for libel, but that's not much good when it's already been published.”
“I should think so, but no doubt whatever they pay out in damages will be covered by the increase in circulation that story will have got them. The cheeky sods!”
“Yeah, well, she's been beating herself up enough over Silver's death, and that sort of thing's not helping.”
Nightjack's face twisted in a humourless smile. “I think we've all got regrets on this one. I was out here on the morning of the murder to see him. I'd been out to see him a few days before, after all the carry-on in town, and I came out to ask him if he'd had trouble from anypony since or if there was anything I could do. Do you know what he said? 'I'm fine, don't worry about me. Just promise me that you'll keep an eye on Summer'.”
Shining Armour winced. “You couldn't have guessed that anything like this was going to happen, though.”
“Major cases tend to have a few things that stick out in your memory about them; I don't think I'll be forgetting that one.”
Up ahead, he could see a little doughnut-shaped break in the clouds. Right over the late Silver's workshop, no doubt, and if he squinted he could even see a pony standing on it. “How's the Prosecutor getting on? You must be running out of time to question Applejack without a charge?”
“That expired a few days ago; we got an extension from the Mayor – she doubles up as a Justice of the Peace around here.”
Which, he noted, didn't entirely answer the question. He kept silent, and after a moment Nightjack sighed and continued,
“As for the case, the Prosecutor's being going hard for murder – and I mean really going for it. She went after Applejack pretty strongly but she couldn't shake her, then she started interviewing other ponies – Cheerilee, Rarity, Moonlight Sonata, the Mayor, Rainbow Dash. She even tried re-interviewing Apple Bloom and her friends, but the answers keep stacking up the way Applejack tells it. I dare say your sister is in for a grilling shortly.”
Shining Armour made a face. “From what I hear about her, those poor foals must have had a rough time.”
“I've got to give her some credit, she was actually pretty good with them. Foals are really hard to interview; sometimes they pick up on what you're trying to find out and start trying to give you answers to please you. Those three didn't budge an inch, and she backed off without pushing them too hard.
“She's not always that gentle, though. I went with her out to Sweet Apple Acres when she wanted to talk to Big Macintosh. Ha, Mac doesn't say much at the best of times, but she got him so angry trying to shake his story that he barely said a word.
“It really started to unravel when she found out that Fluttershy was there. Autumn and I had spent ages trying to get her story out of her – she can be incredibly timid – and what she told us was almost unbelievable, but it pretty much corroborates what your sister told us. Anyway, the Prosecutor started in on her and really gave her hell. Finally she made her cry, and Big Mac blew his top completely! He must have said more to her in chewing her out than I've heard him say in total since I moved here!” Nightjack gave up trying to keep a straight face and let out a deep belly-laugh.
Shining Armour thought back to the timid mare on the train. “Fluttershy – pink mane, butterfly cutie mark?”
“That's her. She lives out on the edge of the Everfree Forest and works as a vet and animal caretaker. She's one of your sister's friends.”
“I think I met her. It was hard to tell,” Shining Armour said drily.
Nightjack chuckled. “I know what you mean. Normally she wouldn't say 'Boo' to a goose, but believe it or not she stared down a full-grown dragon a year or so ago. Anyway, Big Mac threw us both out, and warned the Prosecutor off entirely. He told her that if she ever set hoof on the farm again, he'd have her up for Trespass and anything else he could make stick.”
Shaking his head, Nightjack stopped at the bottom of the farm driveway. The weather-beaten but sturdy five-bar gate was pulled across and locked, and a crude, hoof-lettered sign read, 'Keep Out – No Trespassers'. “Ms. Bono's going to have to make a decision soon, and she's running out of rocks to turn over.”
“And...?”
“GBH, like we said. Maybe GBH with Intent, but I don't know. The Intent part could be hard to prove in this case.”
Shining Armour felt bad about quibbling over details when it might help Twilight's friend not to, but he couldn't help pointing out. “She sort of admitted it, though?”
“She says she panicked when she ran into an armed pony covered in blood, and with a plausible reason to believe he'd just killed somepony. Intent would be if she'd turned up with a weapon herself, or had told other ponies that she was going after him. That's why I think GBH with Intent would fail, assuming her lawyer is even halfway awake. I'm assuming that this Pro Bono isn't just any old chump off the streets?”
“She came highly recommended,” Shining Armour said diplomatically. It was probably best not to reveal the source of that recommendation.
“No doubt she did. No doubt she did,” Nightjack repeated, magically plucking a key from the pockets of his jacket to undo the hefty padlock. He slid the bolt back and shouldered it just wide enough for the two of them to squeeze through before locking it again behind them. “I guess this is all a very roundabout way to get to the point. There's not really anything worth guarding here any more, but I'd appreciate it if you could leave your Guards here until charges are laid. Like I said, it should only be a day or two.”
“That's fine. Have they had to turn anypony away?” he asked as they set off towards the house.
“No, but that's only because everypony knows that they're there. Once they're gone, I'm sure there'll be the usual. Reporters looking for a photo op. Maybe youngsters looking for a thrill, but they'll probably need a while to work up to it. That's why I want to see Ma Berry, actually. They want to knock the place down; it's pretty rickety anyway, and now with what happened there...”
“Silver's parents are supposed to be coming,” Shining Armour said quietly. “The Princesses sent a chariot team to collect them.”
“'Welcome to Ponyville – please collect your son's mortal remains on the way out'.” Nightjack stopped, a long sigh escaping like air from a punctured hoofball. “I'm too old for this, Colonel. It's a nice gesture, but why?”
“They feel bad for them, I guess. It's not much, but it's a little thing that they can do to help a couple of their subjects who've suffered a tragedy which has come to their attention.”
“There's more to it than that, though, isn't there?”
He hesitated before settling for, “It's a long story.”
“Maybe you'll have to tell me one day.” They were passing the little path down to the workshop, and the Sergeant stopped briefly to check the crime scene tape was undisturbed, as well as a few less-obvious markers that he'd hidden.
“I'd tell you now if I could, Nightjack. I don't like all this sneaking around any more than you do – but it's not my decision. There's things that need to remain confidential, and we both know that the Police leak like a tramp's raincoat.”
“Now, that's a little unfair-” Nightjack began, but Shining Armour continued.
“You I could trust, Nightjack. Autumn Breeze too, for that matter. Anypony else? Not so much. Come on, I'm sure we both saw the papers this morning – some of that detail could only have come from the autopsy report.”
Nightjack scowled. “And I have a pretty good idea who will have leaked that – and it's not one of us! All right, I get your point, but still.”
“Look, it's nothing personal. Maybe one day when this is all over I'll be able to give you the full story. That's assuming what I know is the full story.”
Nightjack grunted dismissively. “I won't hold my breath. Come on, let's see if the Berrys are home.”
Together, they trudged up the final rise to the long, low farmhouse nestled on its crest. The tiled roof stretched out above a low wooden deck which ran the length of the south face of the house, and on it a dark-red pony was sitting on a porch swing, rocking herself gently with a magazine in her front hooves. When she caught sight of them she levered herself out of her seat and strode down to meet them by the fence which separated the house from the vineyards.
“You boys took your time. I saw you coming all the way from Ponyville,” she said bluntly, squinting. Her mane and tail were dyed an unlikely shade of black, but otherwise the only thing about Ma Berry that betrayed her age was her voice.
“We had a few things to discuss on the way,” Nightjack said politely.
“Ain't that always the way? Good morning, Nightjack, Colonel.”
“Good morning, ma'am,” Shining Armour said.
“How are you today, Cerise?”
“Well enough, well enough, thank you. Back again, Colonel? Is it business, or was it just my cranberry and macadamia cookies?”
Shining Armour summoned a laugh. “Business, unfortunately, but I wouldn't object to combining the two. I wanted to check on my Guardsponies. They've not been any trouble, have they?”
The old mare snorted. “They're quiet, polite, feed themselves, and clean up around the place – I dare say some of my brood could learn a thing or two from them! They're still over in the barn, so just make yourself at home.”
“Thank you. Hopefully they'll only be here for another day or two, but I'm sure Nightjack will fill you in on that. And on behalf of the Guard, thank you again for your hospitality, it is much appreciated.”
The old mare's smile slipped. “Least we could do, after what happened to poor Silver. Breaks my heart to see a good pony come to such a terrible end.”
“Nopony deserves an end like that,” Nightjack said sombrely. “I came to speak to you about the workshop, actually, Cerise. I've discussed it with the Prosecutor and in principle there aren't any objections.”
Shining Armour excused himself and made his way over to the barn. He was met in front of the door by Oak Heart, who was looking a little flustered with her champron missing. “Morning, Corporal,” he said with a grin. “I hope I haven't caught you unprepared.”
He knew that the sentry would have spotted them a long way off, and would make sure to warn his comrades that an Officer was approaching.
“Vortex took his sweet time,” Oak Heart replied, with a sharp salute. “I was out the back. Tack maintenance.”
“No need to salute, Corporal, I'm off-duty at the moment,” he said easily, peering over the mare's shoulder past the paint-caked door into the cool gloom inside. He could just make out a few bedrolls, neatly arrayed, and a hump of blankets which marked a sleeping pony. “All quiet around here?”
“Yes, sir. Not a peep from anypony – even the Berrys keep well away.”
“Good. Is Sergeant Crusher about?”
“She's asleep, sir; she was on the last stag before dawn. I can wake her, if you like?”
“No, it's all right. I just wanted to let you know that the Police are looking to wrap things up in the next day or two, at which point the detachment will return to base. I'm staying in town for the time being, so I'll come up and see you when I have word and arrange rail warrants to save you from having to fly home. See my Adjutant when you get in; he'll have a 48-hour pass for each of you.”
That got him a smile. “Thank you, sir.”
“Don't thank me, you've all earned it for a job well-done. Oh, and your regimental C.O. wants to see you when you get back.” He threw that last little grenade in there casually, knowing that it'd probably give the mare a sleepless night. In fact she had her Sergeant's stripes waiting for her, but this was all part of the game – one which the Guard had been playing for years.
To his mild disappointment, Oak Heart seemed unfazed. “Yes, sir.”
At least, it always used to give me sleepless nights. Maybe she doesn't have my guilty conscience? Ah, well... He was tempted to have a quick look around, just to reassure himself that everything was in order, but that would imply a lack of faith in his N.C.O.s that he knew was unjustified. They would have everything in order as a matter of professional pride, and making an obvious reconnoitre would only dent those feelings. He decided instead to simply let it go.
“I'll get out of your mane and leave you to it, then. If you need me for anything – and I can't imagine that you will, but just in case – I'll either be at the Library or with the police.”
Oak Heart saluted again through force of habit, and he ambled back to the farmhouse. He hesitated by the door, wondering if he should knock or go in, when Nightjack solved the problem for him by emerging with a wrapped napkin held in his magic.
“That was quick,” the Sergeant noted, offering him the napkin.
“Likewise,” he said. “All done in there?”
Nightjack nodded and set off down the drive. Shining Armour fell in beside him again, unwrapping the napkin to find half a dozen cookies inside, still slightly warm. He smiled – Cranberry and macadamia again! He offered one to the police pony, and together they walked in silence back to the station, sharing a little slice of homeliness on the way.
=====// \=====
=====// \=====
The jangle of the bell distracted Spike from cataloguing the torn pages and collapsing spines of the pile of worn-out books stacked neatly in front of him. Quickly cleaning off his quill, he trotted out of the back room into the main library to see a pale-yellow Unicorn stallion looking around with great interest. Far more interest than if he's just come in looking for Fifty Shades of Hay, or Of Mice and Mares, Spike thought sourly.
“Can I help you?”
The stallion jumped, and whirled around to fix him with a wide smile. “Hey there, little guy! You're Spike, aren't you?”
Oh, great – and he's got a camera . He was willing to be that his new best friend had a notebook and press pass tucked away in those saddlebags of his, too. “Can I help you?” he asked again pointedly.
“I was hoping to speak to Twilight Sparkle, actually.”
Spike remained stony-faced. “She's out.”
“And do you know when she'll be back?” he asked, still oozing fake charm.
Creep . Spike channelled his inner Big Macintosh. “Nope.”
“Oh, that's all right. I don't mind waiting.”
Spike crossed his arms, his scowl deepening. “Then you can wait someplace else. We're not a train station, here.”
“No, but you are a library. Maybe a good book is just what I need to kill some time?”
“We're closed.”
Finally, the stallion's winsome smile slipped. “You're kinda making this difficult, friend.”
“Good. I'm not your friend, now tell your story walking; the door's that way.”
The smile disappeared entirely. “You know what? I tried being nice. If you don't want to play ball, that's fine, but this is a public library – says so right outside – and I'm a member of the public. So I'm going to do some library-ing, and there's not a darn thing you can do about it.”
Spike ground his teeth, but the irritating Unicorn almost had a point – plus, the second he stepped out to get reinforcements he'd be willing to wager that his foe would be rooting through anything and everything he could get his hooves on. So all he could do was glare disapprovingly as the stallion walked slowly around the shelves, pondering loudly.
“Hmm...what to do, what to do? Geography? Geology? Geomancy? Geometry? Gee, don't you have anything interesting in this place?” He stopped and plucked a tome out of its pristinely-organised shelf. “Graze Anatomy – A Descriptive and Surgical Manual for Ungulates – an interesting book to keep out here where the foals can see it, don't you think?”
Spike couldn't stop himself. “The Foals' section is right over there. Try it, you might find something about your level.”
“Aren't you a little short to be making those sorts of gags, junior?” the stallion fired back, unperturbed. “Horology – Holistic Hoof Health? What a crock!”
With a growl of frustration, Spike stomped over to the counter and started sorting through the returns. Unfortunately, that didn't occupy him for long as he'd only finished marking off the loan records and reshelving yesterday ahead of Twilight's return. In fact, about the only task he had left to complete was writing up the books that needed replacing. With a loud sigh designed to catch the visitor's attention, he returned to the back room and closed the door behind him leaving just enough of a gap to see out. The trap was set.
He watched carefully through the crack around the door-jamb as the reporter rattled books and generally made enough noise to sound like he was well and truly occupied and sure enough, after a few unconvincing minutes' browsing the shelves the Unicorn drifted quietly around the room and, with a quick glance around, crept up the stairs on tip-hoof. Easing the door open, Spike followed him.
As he expected, he found the stallion in the spare room, camera clicking rapidly as he rifled through the drawers. I can see the headlines now – 'Twilight Sparkle Cross-Dressing as Royal Guard! Exclusive!' He coughed loudly and the guilty stallion jumped, losing control of his camera and fumbling it to the floor. Seeing that he'd been well and truly rumbled, he smoothed his mane back with one forehoof and tried to play it cool.
“OK, you got me, it's a fair cop. Can't blame a guy for trying, though, right?”
Spike advanced into the room and circled left, forcing the stallion to back up but leaving the door clear. He could feel the old heat rising inside him, making the lateral scales on his neck flare and the choanae at the back of his throat start to close as his fire ducts opened. His voice took on a guttural rumble, “Get. Out.”
The stallion held up a placating hoof. “Look, if you'll just-”
“I said – get out, before I make you regret it!” Spike barked, balling his fists.
“Oh yeah? I'd like to see you try!”
That did it. With a deep breath, Spike spat a concentrated lance of white-hot fire across the room. The stallion let out a high-pitched scream and scuttled backwards, saucer-eyed in horror at the hissing, boiling puddle of black goop on the floor which was all that remained of his camera.
“What? Did I stutter?” Spike demanded, batting a tendril of smoke away from his muzzle with a sharp gesture. “I said, beat it!”
The stallion exploded into a dead sprint, launching himself head-first down the stairs and crashing out through the door.
Watching him go, Spike sighed and prodded the congealing puddle with a claw. “Great. It's going to take forever to get that off the floor.”
=====// \=====
Ignoring the grumbling of her stomach, Junebug wrestled the canvas cover down over her cart and dropped the little wooden sign on top; Back in 1 hour . With the lunch hour rush over with, she knew that she would have time to grab some food of her own and take a break, but instead of doing her own shopping she snatched up a muffin and trotted through the crowds, eating on the hoof.
The lights behind the window were off, and the sign on the door still proclaimed it as closed. She felt a flicker of anger at the shadows of the cruel words still visible despite the efforts of the hooves which tried to scrub their slurs away. Those words were an even greater mockery now, and she felt with a surge of vindictiveness the hope that they would remain branded in their place as a reminder to set the culprits afire with renewed humiliation every time that they walked past. Enough. That's not what you're here for.
The sound of her knocking echoed through the empty stalls inside, but there was no sign of noise or movement. After a moment, she sighed in defeat. Please, Celestia, tell me that she hasn't done anything foolish! But how long do I leave her? What do I do? Opening her mouth, she called up the upstairs window. “Come on, Summer, I know you're in there. I just wanted to make sure that you're OK. Please come down?”
But the curtain did not more, and there was no movement or sound from inside. Finally, irresolute, she turned away. If she doesn't want to see me, I can't force her. But... I hope she's OK.
Reaching the end of the lane, her pace increased as she decided on her new destination; an undistinguished little flat on the east side of town. This time, her knock was answered almost immediately by a pale-green Pegasus with a greying blonde mane.
“Oh, hallo Junebug!” the mare exclaimed, her face falling into the well-worn creases of a smile. “I was hoping we might see you. Thank you so much for writing, Cres and I came as soon as we could. But here I am, keeping you on the doorstep – come in, come in!”
The green mare turned away into the cramped lounge, calling out, “Cloudy? Junebug's here, darling.”
“Thanks, Mum.” Cloud Kicker poked her head out of the kitchen. “Hi, June! I thought you were working today?”
The mare was neatly groomed but her face was drawn and she looked uncharacteristically run-down, her usual vivaciousness missing. Behind her, Crescent Moon waved over his daughter's shoulder. Junebug smiled at him. “The lunchtime rush is over, so I'm taking a bit of a break. I just went past Summer's place, actually. She's still not answering, but I was hoping maybe you'd seen her?”
“No. Not since, since...” Cloud Kicker bit her lip, her face grim. “I think this has gone on long enough. Inglenook must have a spare key somewhere, so if she won't come out we should go in. She can't hide in there forever.”
“You're probably right,” Junebug said reluctantly. “I just don't want to intrude, you know? I have a feeling that if she wanted us-”
“I don't know about wanting you two, but it sounds like a question of needing you. If you really haven't seen her for days, anything could have happened,” Cloud Kicker's mother interjected gently.
“I think that's me outvoted, then,” said Junebug with a short, nervous smile. “Are you coming with us, Skywriter?”
The green mare nodded. “I think I might, if nopony minds. I don't want to intrude, but if there's anything I can do for the poor filly I'd be happy to help.”
“Fine. Cres, what about you?”
“Oh, I'll stay here and mind the fort,” Crescent Moon said in his quiet, mild voice. “I don't want to crowd her with ponies, let alone ones she doesn't know.”
“That's settled, then,” Cloud Kicker said determinedly, setting off for the door.
“Before we, do, though,” Junebug said hurriedly, “Before we do, there's something I wanted to ask you, Cloudy – how are you holding up?”
Cloud Kicker stopped but didn't turn around. After a moment she spoke, her voice unsteady. “I keep telling myself that it'll get easier. But either way, I know that I can't just sit around here. I can't hide myself away and feel sorry for myself. I-if I do, it will just get harder and harder to get out of that rut and get on with my life. I'm a grown mare with responsibilities, and I intend to live up with them. Now please, can we get a move on before I embarrass myself any further?”
Junebug saw the deeply-concerned look that Skywriter shot her before she answered. “Of course. I'm sorry, Cloudy, I didn't mean to upset you.”
Cloud Kicker let out a shaky sigh. “I know. You're a good friend, June. Come on – we'll see you later, Dad.”
There was no mistaking Skywriter's look as they followed Cloud Kicker outside and down the street. We'll talk later.
The door to Summer's landlord's house swung open at their knock with a shimmer of magic, but there was no pony behind it to greet them. Instead, Inglenook waved at them from across the room where he sat tucked up in a blanket in his favourite chair next to the fireplace, knitting with the gramophone on low and the sun streaming in through the window in front of him. The ancient Unicorn stallion looked rather befuddled at so many visitors, but nodded at their request and slowly extracted himself from the tangle of blankets and skeins of wool and shuffled off deeper into the house, muttering to himself in puzzlement, “I know I put that key somewhere safe, now where was it...?”
It was hard to look around and not notice the layer of dust and grime that had settled on the shelves and mantelpiece despite the old pony's best efforts. That those surfaces were all crowded with little knick-knacks and photo frames probably didn't help, but she suspected that he simply didn't see very well any more. She wondered if he wouldn't be better off in the old ponies' home on the outskirts of the village, but this was his home and his routine, and perhaps taking him from it would be a shock that he wouldn't survive. So instead he sat each day and knitted, a fire permanently lit to keep his old bones warm, and with help and firewood and the occasional meal from his neighbours he lived out his dotage on his own terms. And that can't be a bad thing for the dear old duffer.
The minutes stretched out, and she found herself watching the progress of his life captured in photographs which spanned nearly fifty years. Inglenook in the full flush of youth, a demure young mare at his shoulder, smiling shyly at the camera. Tack styles and clothing became more modern and the black-and-white pictures gave way to colour as they traced the years forward until they suddenly stopped. She knew why – fifteen years it had been, now, since Honeysweet went upstairs for a mid-afternoon nap. Fifteen years since the aneurysm took her, leaving Inglenook alone with his memories. At least he has those memories. You are both alone, but what do you have? What will you remember when you are his age?
She shook her head, trying to clear the melancholy thoughts from her mind as he shuffled back in, the key dangling triumphantly in front of him. “In the tin behind the tea bags, I knew I'd find it!” he announced happily.
“Thank you, Inglenook. I'm really sorry to have bothered you, but we're getting quite worried about Summer,” said Cloud Kicker, as she and her mother settled the old stallion back in his chair and made sure everything was close to hoof. “We shouldn't be too long.”
“She's a good filly,” said Inglenook fondly. “She brings me ginger cake and has tea with me, sometimes. It's always nice to have company.” His smile dimmed slightly. “It's hard to believe that ponies have been picking on her. You tell her that I'm thinking of her, all right? Tell her that her friends know what's what, and that she isn't to worry. I'm sure it'll all be put to rights very soon.”
Junebug felt her face fall. He doesn't know . She glanced over at Cloud Kicker to see her looking very determinedly out the window, but Skywriter was there to fill the sudden silence. “I'm sure the girls will do just that. In fact, if you wouldn't mind some company, I could make you a cuppa while they go and see her? They'll need to return the key anyway, and I'm only tagging along.”
Inglenook perked up immediately. “Would you? Oh, that would be nice!”
Skywriter smiled at him. “I'd be happy to. No, it's all right, don't get up – if there's anything I can't find, I'll shout.” With that, she trotted out into the kitchen.
Junebug was painfully aware that Cloud Kicker was still lost in her own thoughts, and tried to extract herself with as much grace as possible. “Well, thanks again, Inglenook, we won't be long. Let's go, Cloudy.”
The salon was only a few doors away, but she was still surprised when Cloud Kicker abruptly took flight when they made it back outside. It made sense seconds later, as she came to a hover just outside Summer's upstairs window and beat a hoof on it. “Summer? It's me and Junebug – we're coming in, all right?”
With that, she returned to ground level and gave Junebug an expectant look. Shaking her head, Junebug unlocked the door and together they stepped inside. Passing quickly through the salon, they stepped through the curtain to the rear and she followed Cloud Kicker up the stairs. Reaching the landing at the top, Cloud Kicker slowed abruptly, forcing Junebug to sidestep her, but as she opened her mouth to ask why she noticed the smell. Swallowing hard, she tried to ignore the sudden frisson of dread and pushed open the door to the little attic room.
The scent that washed over them, stirred up by the gust of air from the movement of the door, nearly made her gag at the foul mixture of stale sweat, mud, and the rancid odour of putrefaction. “Summer?”
The humped mass of blankets on the bed moved slightly in the dim light which found its way through the thick curtains, and she forced herself to approach it across a floor littered with a strange mixture of Summer's belongings, some neatly and carefully boxed, some seemingly thrown down at random or kicked into heaps. She felt a strange sense of unreality as she reached out a hoof. “Summer?”
At her touch, the ball unwound a fraction to reveal Summer's head, the mane lank and dishevelled, the eyes unfocussed but bright with fever.
“Summer!” Cloud Kicker shoved Junebug aside and began to yank frantically on the stinking blankets. “Summer, what happened?!”
The mare that was revealed was a terrible sight, her coat soaked with sweat and matted with mud and burrs, but the rude awakening seemed to draw her back to the present. “Cloudy?” she croaked in confusion.
That voice, as dry as dust, sent Junebug leaping over to the little kitchen area at the opposite end of the attic to fetch her friend a drink. She returned to find Cloud Kicker attempting to sit her up, but when she accomplished this task Summer was shivering so badly that Junebug had to hold the mug for her while she drank greedily.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice was improved, but still dull and bewildered.
“Looking for you, dummy!” Cloud Kicker said, smoothing damp strands of mane away from her face. “We hadn't seen you in ages, and we were starting to worry.”
Summer blinked and shook her head. “Uh... why, what day is it?”
Her tail twitched, and the movement drew Junebug's eye to a huge, turgid swelling on Summer's gaskin. It showed a sinister dark-green colour even through her grey coat, and dark lines stretched ominously away from it up to her flank and down almost past her hock. The swelling was surmounted by a circular wound, and from its suppuration the source of the dreadful smell became obvious. Junebug couldn't restrain a sharp gasp, and regretted it immediately.
“Summer! What happened to your leg?!” she exclaimed, but gave her no time to answer, instead rounding on Cloud Kicker. “Cloud Kicker, go and fetch a doctor,” she demanded, trying and failing to keep the panic out of her voice, “Now ! You're faster than I am!”
“No! Wait!” Summer protested feebly. Cloud Kicker back away a step, her eyes darting between the two of them. “Please, Cloudy, don't.”
“Junebug?” the Pegasus asked uncertainly.
Junebug swallowed her instinct to scream at her to go and bent down close to Summer, trying to both reassure her and impress the gravity of her words. “Summer, that thing on your leg has gone really bad. You've got a raging fever, you're sweating buckets, and unless you get some help, this... this could go badly. What exactly are you worried about?”
“I-if you get a doctor... I don't want to go!” Summer sniffled, “They've been after me non-stop, banging on the door, shouting through the letter slot. All sorts, but I'm safe here. They can't get to me, but out there they'll find me, they'll tell everyone that I'm, I'm, uh-”
Junebug shook her head, trying to make sense of her friend's incoherent stream of words, “Who will? The reporters? The ponies from the village? Don't worry about them, Summer. This is serious, and your health is far more important than whatever nonsense they might come up with.”
“Please, don't!” Summer choked, her tears flowing freely now. “They'll take me away!”
“Summer, you have to have medical care. Right now. I promise you that we'll look after you, but this is an emergency and we must get you to a doctor. There is no alternative.”
“A-a-anything! Um, uh, Zecora! She's not a doctor!”
Junebug sat back, caught unawares at the strange suggestion, but the kernel of a plan was germinating in her mind. Perhaps there was a way to play along with Summer's feverish fears and get her into the hospital. The strange Zebra was no conventional doctor but she had a wide knowledge of herbal potions and medicines and she was by no means unreasonable. “Zecora? You'll let Zecora take a look at you?”
“Yes!”
“Well, okay, then. Tell you what; we'll get Zecora to come and examine you, but if she says that you need more help than she can give you, you have to let us take you straight to the hospital – deal?”
“Thank you!” Summer sobbed in relief. “Thank you! Don't let them take me away!”
Junebug smiled reassuringly at her, but turned away and led Cloud Kicker to the top of the stairs. “Please tell me that you know where Zecora lives?” she hissed in a harsh whisper.
Cloud Kicker ducked her head. “No, but I know a pony who does – and Rainbow Dash usually takes a nap in about the same place at this time of day,” she replied in the same tone.
“Then I hope to Celestia that she's there today! Look, go and find Zecora, and make sure you tell her everything. If we can get her on side ahead of time then with any luck we can get Summer to the hospital without wasting any more time. I don't like the look of that thing.”
Cloud Kicker swallowed nervously. “Me neither. Hang in there, June, I'll be as fast as I can.”
With that, the mare bolted down the stairs, and Junebug hurried back to the window to see a lavender-grey form streak into the sky. With an anxious sigh, she heaved it open to let fresh air into the room and smiled down at her stricken friend. “Would you like some more water, Summer?”
It was as much an exercise in keeping herself calm as it was in helping her friend, but feeding Summer sips of water and mopping her brow with a damp cloth at least helped to fill in some of the time while they waited. She kept an obsessive eye on the clock, both dreading the passage of time and willing it to go faster so that Cloud Kicker would return, and she fretted incessantly as Summer dropped back into a sort of drowse.
She had taken up a comb and was using it to coax the burrs and tangles from her friend's tail when she heard a muffled voice from downstairs.
“Junebug? Cloud Kicker?”
“Whazzat?” Summer asked in sleepy alarm.
“It's okay, that's Skywriter – Cloud Kicker's mum. I'll be back in a second.”
“OK.” That explanation seemed to suffice, and Summer's eyes drifted closed again.
With a deep breath, Junebug trotted quickly downstairs to let the Pegasus in – and to try to explain the situation. She needn't have worried, though, as Skywriter rose to the occasion magnificently. When they returned upstairs Skywriter walked straight up to Summer's bed without hesitating and sat beside her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Hallo, Summer. Sorry for dropping in on you unannounced, but I was looking for my daughter. It looks like she's gone flying off on me again,” she said calmly, taking up the cloth from its bowl and wringing it out to pat across Summer's brow. She looked pointedly at Junebug and then at Summer's tail and, taking her cue, Junebug resumed her work with the comb. “It's a bit like a spa treatment, isn't it? Just relax for a while, we'll take care of you.”
It was an incredible relief to have another pony take the pressure off her by taking charge. Skywriter somehow managed to talk fluently about nothing very much, using her voice as soothing reassurance while they worked with their hooves. With Summer's tail and face done, they started moving down her body, cleaning off the mud and leaves while she drifted half-awake, shivering occasionally. They stayed well away from her injured leg but found many other scrapes and contusions on her body as they worked which they cleaned as gently and as best they could.
Finally, to Junebug's enormous relief, she heard galloping hooves approaching and peered out the window to see Cloud Kicker landing outside and a cloaked pony sliding to a halt beside her, bulging saddlebags across their back. She heard the rattle and slam of the door followed shortly after by panting ponies puffing their way up the narrow staircase. Cloud Kicker was the first to emerge, her wings spread to cool off.
“Hi, Mum,” she panted, seemingly unsurprised.
“Hallo, darling,” Skywriter said nonchalantly, like this was an everyday occurrence. “And I assume that you're Zecora?”
“Zecora am I, I heard of your need. For this stricken pony, I came with all speed.” The cloaked pony pulled back her hood to reveal that she wasn't really a pony at all.
Skywriter jumped at the sight of the striped face and beringed neck. “Uh... y-you're a Zebra?!”
“Mum!” Cloud Kicker hissed frantically.
Skywriter cringed. “Sorry! Sorry, it's just that I've never met a Zebra before, and... uh...”
Zecora just stared her down. “We Zebras are rare in these parts, it is true. But that is no call for you to be rude!”
Skywriter backed away, her head low, and took a deep breath. “I'm sorry, that didn't quite come out right. Thank you for coming so quickly, and I'd be very grateful if you could help Summer in any way,” she said humbly.
Zecora's stern look softened as she walked towards the bed. “Cloud Kicker explained her friend's distress, and I could do nothing less. I heard her tale and-”
She broke off with a sharp hiss and uttered a string of syllables in a strange tongue, touching a hoof just below her right eye, then to her forehead, then to her heart. She whirled on them and reared, driving them back with the ominous words, “Back away, back away, if you have any wound, keep away, stay away, lest it be your doom!”
Cloud Kicker and Skywriter skittered nervously backwards, but Junebug's hooves seemed to have taken root. “W-what is it?” she asked, her voice wavering uncertainly.
“Corpse wasp! ” Zecora snapped shortly, already wriggling out of her saddlebags to root through their contents more effectively. “Now, move !”
Junebug bolted the few steps to the far end of the room, where she watched the Zebra shed bundles of herbs and bottled lotions and strange-looking crystals and totems in the search for... well... whatever it was. The chosen items were quickly piled up on Summer's bedside table before Zecora galloped over to the kitchen area to rifle through the cupboards.
“Empty this, and act with haste,” she ordered peremptorily, shoving a large jam jar across the counter at Junebug who had to lunge in and juggle it before it hit the floor, “For we have no more time to waste!”
“Uh, do I...?” Junebug wanted to ask her whether she needed to clean or sterilise the jar, but the sight of the Zebra with a large and very sharp-looking knife clutched in her teeth encouraged her to hurry to the sink start scraping out the contents rather than argue the toss. She scrubbed frantically with the bottle brush, mentally cursing the dried, gummy residue around the rim, and after a nervous glance over her shoulder she decided that she had time to dry it as well. Her task done, she trotted over to put it with the rest of Zecora's chosen tools.
The shaman nodded gratefully at her without interrupting the rhythm of her near-silent chant as she shredded cloves of garlic between her hooves, dropping the pulp into a little carved wooden dish. Junebug backed away but kept watch, fascinated by the peculiar preparations. Zecora wiped the last of the garlic from her hooves and started pouring a viscous yellow oil from one of her vials into the dish, then some bright-yellow powder. Leaving the dish to one side, she peeled yet more garlic cloves with sharp blows of her hoof and gently started feeding them to Summer. Summer huffed and snorted a little at the burning, acrid taste, turning her head aside.
“Hush now, eat and do not make strife. I feed you this to save your life,” Zecora said in a tender near-whisper. “Be at peace, take ease, and do not fear. Your friends and I are very near.”
She continued feeding Summer slivers of garlic, interspersed with sips of milk from the kitchen jug.
Skywriter cleared her throat nervously. “Is there anything we can do to help?”
Zecora looked up and gave the two scared Pegasi a reassuring smile. “To kindle fire in the hearth would be another step along the path. And a shallow pan, I must remember, to let me fetch a burning ember.”
While Cloud Kicker and her mother hurried to comply, Zecora checked her little dish of garlic and began setting candles out around Summer's bed. She grinned tightly when she caught Junebug watching her. “A ghost these candles would not fetter – but the ritual makes me feel much better!”
With that, she returned to her task, setting bunches of dried lavender on the bed and dabbing Summer's face and hooves with what smelled like clove oil before lighting the candles and scraping the burning kindling from the fireplace into a frying pan which she set down at Summer's bedside. Finally, her preparations complete, the Zebra turned the face the three other mares and took a deep breath. “Now I must ask for your strength and aid, to hold her in the spot she's laid. I hate to cause her so much pain, but it's the only way to extract this bane.”
“Can't you give her something to knock her out, or numb her somehow?” Cloud Kicker asked, looking sick.
“I have juice of the poppy, but if it reaches her marrow – its essence will cause the foul creature to burrow. So be strong, good ponies, use all your power. We must not delay another hour.”
She set them out around the bed, with Skywriter and her daughter each holding one hind leg while Junebug gripped her front legs awkwardly. When they were all in position, Zecora paused by Summer's head to touch her shoulder reassuringly. “Be brave, little mare, I hate to say, but this is surely the only possible way.” She took a deep breath and scooped up some of her garlic paste on one hoof. “Hold her.”
Junebug couldn't help but watch as the Zebra lowered her hoof and began to gently massage the paste into the area around the swelling. At the first touch of her hoof, Summer convulsed and let out a gasp, and Junebug instinctively tensed herself against the movement. Undeterred, Zecora scooped up more of the foul-smelling paste and continued her task, working ever-closer to the summit of the lump and oh my stars it's moving!
It was horrifying to have to pin her friend down like this, and worse to realise that Summer was trying to hold the limbs vibrating with tension in her grip as still as she could manage. Her teeth were clamped together, the lips drawn back in agony, but only the occasional grunt or strangled moan escaped. Tears poured from the stricken mare's eyes, and Junebug could feel her own tears tracking down her face in sympathy.
Finally, Zecora stopped and set her dish aside. Taking up the knife, she held it in the flame of the pan for a second and then drew it sharply over her own fetlock. Blood darkened her grey-and-black striped coat immediately, and she slapped a thick pad of gauze over it. When the gauze was thoroughly soaked, she carefully set it aside before holding the jar over the burning pan, the flames licking at the open end.
“Hold her,” she ordered again. Lifting the jar, she dexterously flicked the blood-soaked gauze inside it and pressed the open end firmly down over the swelling. Summer bucked in agony, a barely-strangled scream echoing around the room, and Junebug had to fight to hold her down. What in Celestia's name am I doing? This is wrong, this is cruel, oh, Summer! I'm so sorry!
The desperate struggle continued for nearly a minute until she heard Cloud Kicker moan, “Oh Goddess, I'm gonna be sick!”
Junebug turned her head towards the Pegasus but her eye was caught on the way by movement inside the jar clamped over Summer's gaskin. A pale-green insectoid head protruded from the wound, its mandibles working furiously as it struggled. Junebug stared, transfixed in horror, as the huge insect slowly wriggled its way out of the wound, the head followed by a thorax and finally a long, tapering abdomen. It sat there for a moment, its front legs cleaning the blood and unspeakable fluids from its head and slowly fanning its damp, wrinkled wings, before scuttling over to the gauze pad and starting to burrow its way inside. Once it was well entangled, Zecora moved like lightning to whip the jar away and screw the lid on tightly.
The Zebra let out a sigh of relief and carefully set the jar down on the table. “It is done. Release her, the worst is over.”
There was an abrupt clatter of hooves as Cloud Kicker bolted for the bathroom, and Junebug slowly eased up and dropped her aching front hooves back onto the floor. Zecora was cradling the sobbing mare's head and crooning soothingly at her, while at the foot of the bed Skywriter simply stood and stared at the nightmarish creature slowly sinking itself into the bloody gauze, appalled.
She swallowed twice, trying to force some moisture back into her mouth. “What is that thing, Zecora?”
“A parasite of distant lands, the jungle is its home. They seek living flesh to eat and breed and make their noisome home. If your hide be whole and healthy, they will let you pass on by. But if gashed and pierced they burrow in and start to multiply.”
“But how in Equestria did Summer come across it? There's no jungle here?” Skywriter asked in a shaky voice. “And how did you know ?”
“I cannot guess for I have never heard of one found so far north, but praise to my wise old Shaman lord, who taught me much of worth. The symptoms I did not recognise until they were in my presence, but when I saw and smelled I realised that time was of the essence.
“But now you must watch over her, for I must fast depart. The wasp is drawn but the septic wound itself must still be lanced. I go now to fetch her medicines and analgesia for the pain – I must clear out pus and larvae or the cycle starts again.”
Junebug shivered. “We'll look after her,” she promised. “But before you go, you must let us bandage up that fetlock.”
Zecora looked puzzled for a second, then sheepishly raised her foreleg to let them clean and dress the cut that was still slowly oozing red. “Thank you. I must now go but I shall be brief, as I go in search of Summer's relief.”
After the Zebra had gone, Cloud Kicker emerged from the bathroom, the short hair on her face spiky from the water she'd splashed on it, her haunted eyes wide and her tail twitching nervously. I probably look the same , Junebug thought, restraining a wild impulse to laugh.
“H-has she gone?”
“Just for a while,” Skywriter confirmed in a hushed voice. “She said she needed more supplies to deal with, with Summer's injuries.”
“Ah.” Cloud Kicker started towards the head of the bed but abruptly changed course. “Can somepony cover that thing up? I can't bear to even look at it,” she begged, her hooves treading nervously in place. From the direction she was looking, there was little doubting what she meant.
“A good idea.” Junebug rummaged briefly for a saddle blanket in one of the piles strewn across the floor and dropped it over the jam-jar and its hideous contents. Once the deed was done there was a collective sigh of relief from the three mares.
Cloud Kicker carefully skirted around the now-covered jar and dropped back onto her haunches by Summer's head. The little grey mare was teetering on the verge of unconsciousness, her breathing a series of short, shallow snorts. “We've got to get her to the hospital. I mean, it's lucky that Zecora could help and everything, but surely they're better equipped for this sort of thing?” she said, taking up the damp cloth again and gently wiping her friend's face. Summer twitched at its cool touch and mumbled something unintelligible.
Skywriter shivered. “For what sort of thing? That wasp, or whatever it is? Can you imagine that thing loose in a hospital full of sick or injured ponies? Maybe this wasn't so bad, after all.”
“I think you're both right,” said Junebug. “I don't know what else Zecora can do, but Summer's going to need proper medical care to recover from this. Don't get me wrong, I'll do whatever I can, but that's not really much.” She let out a jittery laugh. “I mean, I suppose I can water her and put fresh compost around her hooves, but that's about as far as my knowledge goes!”
Her weak joke withered and died a lonely death, and she cringed at her own gaucheness. After a short pause, Skywriter continued as if it hadn't happened. “I'm afraid that I'm not going to be much help. Cres and I were going to fly home later today; I have clients waiting on me and Cres' firm is in the middle of an audit. I can probably arrange somepony to cover me, but it'll take a few days.”
“I can probably do it,” said Cloud Kicker. “They keep telling me that I should take some time off.”
“Speaking of which, do you need to be going? It's getting on towards four o'clock?”
“No, when I spoke to Rainbow Dash earlier I got her to cover for me. She owes me one, after all.”
There was a brief pause. “Well, that's good, I guess. That just leaves your dad. One of us should probably go and tell him what's going on – would you mind?”
Cloud Kicker gave her mother a look which clearly said, I know exactly what you're up to , but she agreed, saying simply, “Look after her.”
There was silence in the little room long after Cloud Kicker's hoofsteps had faded away, broken only by the occasional snuffle or muttering from the bed. Junebug took over at the head of the bed, feeling the heat still rising from her friend's forehead with the back of her pastern and smoothing back her mane soothingly.
Skywriter watched for a moment, then shook herself and walked into the kitchen to put the kettle on, absently clearing up some of the mess as she waited. As the kettle began to bubble, she let out a sigh.
“So. My daughter.”
“She's doing her best,” Junebug blurted, not quite sure why she sounded so defensive.
Skywriter held up a placating hoof. “I know, I know. I'm glad you wrote to me. I know she's trying to be brave, but she just seems to be bottling everything up.”
“Maybe she is – when she's in company, at least. I don't know, Sky, I guess she's dealing with it her own way. I mean, is there a right way to cope with some thing like this?” Junebug flailed helplessly and gave up. “I've just been trying to let her know that if there's anything I can do, I'll be there. I don't know what else to do. Not much good at this sort of thing.”
Skywriter sighed again. “Nopony is, June. You've got a good heart, so follow it and hope for the best.” She was silent for a moment before asking, “What can you tell me about this colt she was seeing?”
“Silver? Didn't she tell you anything about him?”
“We weren't even entirely sure that there was a 'him', not until you wrote. To her, colts were always on a 'need to know' basis as far as we parents are concerned, I think! She'd mentioned him a few times in her letters, so we assumed he was at least a friend, but he was appearing more and more regularly. Perhaps she would have been writing a letter to us about him now, if things had turned out differently.”
Junebug smiled faintly. “I dare say she would have. He's Summer's best friend. Or was, I suppose. He was... he was a nice guy.”
“Was he?” Skywriter said neutrally. “I've seen some of the stuff in the papers-”
Junebug cut her off with a fierce scowl. “If those idiots told me the sky was blue, I'd want to go outside and check. Yes, he knew Twilight; yes, he was friends with Applejack. The rest of it I'd like to say was their own imagination, but there was a lot of nasty, mean-spirited rumours doing the rounds here in Ponyville from ponies who should be utterly ashamed of themselves.”
Skywriter's brow furrowed. “So none of it was true?”
“I can't put it any better than he did when he and Summer were surrounded at the town meeting – did they really think so little of Cloud Kicker, because she isn't stupid. Gosh, that seems like ages ago – was it really only last week?”
“Suddenly, I'm starting to like him,” said Skywriter. The kettle had long since boiled, but she simply toyed with the tea tin and pot without taking any definite steps towards brewing up. “Do you want any?” she asked suddenly. “I was going to make a pot but I sort of just realised that after seeing that earlier, I really don't know if I could stomach anything right now.”
“And Zecora said that she has more to do when she gets back. Thanks, but I'll give it a miss.”
“I don't even know why I started.” Skywriter said, not looking up. “A habit, I suppose – when in doubt, make tea.”
“It's all right,” said Junebug awkwardly. “I do the same thing.”
After a moment, Skywriter asked, “What's all this about a meeting? And why did those rumours you were talking about start, anyway?”
Junebug spent the next few minutes explaining. “She would have taken on the whole town for him, right there,” she concluded. “And Summer, too, of course, but I think it was mainly for him. And of course I stood there like a lemon trying to work out what I was supposed to do.”
“I'm sure you did your best, June.”
“That's what Summer said, but I don't feel any less awful for it. All water under the bridge now, of course.”
“So how did they meet,” the Pegasus asked, changing the subject.
That made Junebug smile again. “We all met shortly after Summer and Silver arrived. Pinkie Pie throws parties at the drop of a hat, and two new ponies moving to Ponyville definitely calls for a party. He and Summer would meet up every evening and go for a walk. I'd join them if I was about, but Cloud Kicker seemed more determined than I was. She thought he was cute and wanted to get to know him, so most evenings she'd make a point of meeting up with them. Summer thought it was hilarious.”
“And Silver?”
“I wouldn't say that he didn't notice at first, but... I don't know. Have you ever seen two ponies who just clicked? That was him and Cloud Kicker. They'd trot along together, rather oblivious of Summer and I, and just chat away about everything. They were good at making each other laugh, but there was more to it than that. It wasn't long before it was obvious that they really cared about each other, but they took things slowly. Maybe because of everything else going on around here, maybe that was just the way they wanted it, I don't know. Either way, she was radiant, Sky, she was just glowing. And now? Now I can't help but wonder what took them so long.”
Skywriter closed her eyes and turned away, a long sigh leaking out. “Kids,” she said at last, in a hollow, choked voice. “They must have thought that they had forever.”
=====// \=====
Shining Armour pushed his pile of forms back across the counter and tried to hide his impatience as the mare in the shiny peaked cap carefully checked through each one. Paperwork was a necessary evil, he knew, but that didn't make it any less of a pain in the flank.
It had come as a relief when Nightjack confirmed that Applejack was to be charged later that afternoon. Inflicting GBH, as he and Autumn had proclaimed all along. It did at least relieve him from kicking his hooves around the police station and he could go and set things in motion – like travel warrants for his guardsponies to return to Canterlot tomorrow morning.
Finally satisfied, the mare stamped each form in turn and slid them back to him, his Royal Warrant on top, and he was free to make his escape. “Have a nice day, sir!” she chirped happily.
“Thanks – you, too.”
He had barely taken two steps outside when a lightly-armoured, bat-winged grey scout landed in front of him and saluted. “Colonel Shining Armour? Trooper Starshine, Princess Luna's Own Light Cavalry. Sir, I'm an outrider to the main detachment; the chariot containing Mr. Braise's parents should be arriving shortly in the main square.”
“Thank you, Trooper. At ease!” He briefly contemplated nipping back to the library for his armour to present a more formal look. “How long do we have?”
“Maybe five to ten minutes, sir. It took me a while to track you down.”
Shining Armour grunted. Hmm. Perhaps not, then . His natural state would have to do. “Follow me, Trooper.”
Together, they trotted back through the town, the bat-winged Guardspony getting a few strange looks from some of the townsponies, stopping outside the front door of the town hall. It was the biggest landmark in the square and seemed a natural place that the chariot team would aim for. Relaxing into a natural Stand Easy posture, he scanning the square for trouble through force of habit as well as the skies for the arrivals, constantly alternating between the two. He assumed that his companion was doing the same, although her eyes were lost behind the dark lenses of her helmet. He frowned at the sight of an ambulance hurrying away from the far end of the square, the pony between the traces ringing his bell to clear the way. Just what we need – more trouble .
There was a discreet cough from the Trooper and, redirecting his attention and squinting across the sky, he could make out first one, then another chariot, each being pulled by a Pegasus team. It's a shame about the saddlebags, I suppose, but it's not a fashion contest.
The chariots circled overhead to give the few ponies in the square time to get out of the way, then touched down gently. One, its contents covered in a cargo net, halted where it was, but the other one drove right up to the door of the town hall. As he advanced to meet it, the two civilians it bore stepped off on rubbery legs and looked around, tired and befuddled.
“Ma'am? Sir? Princess Celestia and Princess Luna would like to extend their sympathies to you in your great loss, as do I. I'm Colonel Shining Armour of the Royal Equestrian Guard. I have been ordered to see to it that your stay in Ponyville is as comfortable and trouble-free as possible.”
The mare, a powerful, pale-yellow Earth pony with a sunset-red mane, blinked her weary, red-rimmed eyes. “Thank you,” she said in a quiet, strained voice. “My name is Amber Hammerbuck, and this is my husband, Copper Braise.”
“Sir,” Shining Armour nodded respectfully. Copper Braise, a towering, angular Earth pony, simply turned a stony gaze on him in silence. The craggy, forbidding face was actually a little intimidating – a look not helped by the thick splatter of old burn marks across his neck and chest, ranging from little dark-grey circles in his reddish-brown coat to the hoof-sized naked patch on his left shoulder.
He cleared his throat and continued, “I've arranged a hotel for you nearby. I know you've had a long journey, so if you'd like to follow me, we can get you booked in and discuss what you'd like to do from there.”
“That would be great,” said Amber, sagging a little in relief.
After a brief aside to give orders to the Sergeant in charge of the detachment, he led them across the square to the hotel – the same one, in fact, that Twilight had hired for the lawyer, Pro Bono. They had a comfortable suite on the second floor with a small balcony overlooking the square, and after they had had a nose around in a desultory fashion, they rejoined him in the main room.
“Now, I know you must be tired and it's getting a bit late to leap into things today, but I thought I should give you some outline of what you can expect. Firstly, Princess Celestia has authorised me to cover any expenses you may incur for the duration of your stay. That includes the hotel, and if you want to eat anywhere in Ponyville please just show them this card.
“I will also be acting as your guide and liaison with the authorities. The pony in charge of the investigation is Sergeant Nightjack; he's based here in Ponyville but has extensive experience with major investigations in Trottingham. He's currently being assisted by Detective Inspector Autumn Breeze from Trotland Yard's Flying Squad. You'll meet both of these ponies tomorrow morning, and also the Prosecutor, Senior Counsel Cui Bono. Those three will be able to tell you what happened, as far as they can work out, and what happens next. They will also try to answer any questions you may have.”
“I saw the newspapers at one of the stops on the way here,” said Amber. “They said that somepony had been arrested?”
Shining Armour nodded reluctantly. “Yes, a local mare was arrested for assaulting Silver. As I understand it, she has been charged this evening over the attack. I really shouldn't say any more, I'm afraid; that's in the hooves of the Police and Chamber of Justice. They'll tell you everything they can tomorrow.”
Amber and her husband exchanged a long look, and for a second, Copper's stoic mask cracked a little. His wife turned back to Shining Armour, her eyes pleading. “Why Silver?” she whispered. “Why my son? He was a good colt.”
Shining Armour swallowed heavily and groped for an answer. “I don't know that anypony can answer that, Ma'am,” he settled for eventually.
“Why are you here?” Copper's voice was a low, gruff rumble. “A pony of your rank? The Princesses could have sent anypony. There's something more to this, isn't there?” The stallion's piercing grey eyes were fixed on his face, and once again Shining Armour felt distinctly uncomfortable.
“The answer to that question is a very long one, and one which I will need to explain in conjunction with the police tomorrow. I'm sorry if I seem to be putting you off, but honestly, it's best if you get the full story at once rather than bits and pieces here and there.”
Copper's narrow gaze continued for a moment, then he nodded and turned away. Shining Armour felt a momentary relief.
“I should probably be going for now, as there's several things I need to attend to. If you want to talk to me about anything before morning or if you have a question or problem, the porter downstairs knows where to find me. If you're around town, I will be either at Ponyville Police Station, which is just across the square, or at the library. Anypony will be able to give you directions.”
“One more thing, Colonel,” said Amber haltingly. “There's another pony who will have been with him. Summer Clip, she was his best friend. Do you know where she is? S-she must be absolutely in bits and she's all alone here...”
“I know she has a place in town but I'm not sure where, exactly. I'll make some enquiries and tell her that you've arrived,” he promised.
“Thank you. Summer, she was almost like a second foal to us. She and Silver were so close,” the mare said, her voice breaking, and her husband leaned close to comfort her.
Feeling increasingly awkward, Shining Armour decided to make his exit. “I'll go and get started. The hotel does room service, or feel free to go to one of the restaurants around the square. Failing that, the porter will be able to help you if there's anything you want.”
Suddenly, Copper Braise's burning eyes were fixed on him again. “Want? Colonel, they can't give me what I want.” His voice cracked, husky words forced out of him by sheer will.
“I want my son back.”
=====// \=====
Pulling open the door to the library, Shining Armour let out a quiet but heartfelt sigh. Inside, the soft glow of the floor lamp illuminated the central table and cast strange shadows on the surrounding shelves. Two figures were sitting side-by-side at the table, deep in a large stack of books.
“Hey Twily. Hey Spike.”
The two looked up from their work, blinking slowly at the mental change of gears, and mumbled their greetings.
He felt a twitch of a smile as he shrugged off his saddlebags. “I see the literary madness is catching, Spike?”
“Huh, you can't live with Twilight for so long without picking up a few bad habits,” the dragon said half-heartedly. “You're out late tonight?”
“Yeah, Nightjack and Bluebell asked me to help wrangle the press. Applejack's been charged now, so brace yourselves for the papers in the morning.” He took a deep breath. “Also, Silver's parents have arrived. I spent some time settling the in to the hotel.”
Twilight paused for a minute, the pushed her book shut with a gentle thump. “They must be devastated.” Her voice was firmly neutral, tightly controlled.
“They're holding together, but only just. His mum seems to be all right, but I wouldn't want to mess with his dad at all. I don't mind admitting that he's one scary pony.”
That made Twilight smile for a second. “My brother the guard, intimidated by a civilian?”
“Trust me, you'd understand if you met him. That reminds me, actually; Silver's mum was asking about Summer Clip. Do you know where I can find her?”
Twilight's smile vanished and she shared a look with Spike. “Yes, actually. She's in Ponyville Urgent Care right now.”
Shining Armour felt his stomach drop into his horseshoes. “Please tell me you're joking?”
“I wish I was. Summer's friends were worried about her earlier, so they borrowed a key and checked up on her. She has some sort of nasty infection on one of her hind legs and she was a little delirious.”
“Oh, boy.”
“It gets worse. She was being difficult about doctors for some reason, so they got Zecora to check her over. That turned out to be quite lucky, because Zecora recognised the wound and knew that it was caused by some sort of exotic tropical insect. She managed to extract it and clean the wound out, then she brought it here. It, and its larvae,” she added, looking faintly green. Shaking herself, she continued. “Spike and I were trying to find some sort of reference material on this thing; I'll need to talk to the Princess about this as soon as possible and at the moment I can only tell her what Zecora told me.”
He frowned. “You think it might be something to do with the creature in the forest?”
“That's a reasonable assumption, because there's no way that this thing should survive up here, even at this time of year. Summer's going to be fine, but for now she's up in the hospital being pumped full of antibiotics.”
“Is anything ever simple around here? My Goddess, how am I supposed to explain all this to Silver's parents?! And how do you get yourself into these things, Twily?”
“Welcome to Ponyville, I guess,” said Spike, getting up and toting a pile of books over to a trolley marked 'Returns'.
=====// \=====
The tentative, almost apologetic knock at the door came as no surprise. If nothing else, the glow of her lamp still burning must have been one of the only lights still showing in Ponyville at this hour. Sliding the bookmark into her novel, Junebug rose from her chair, joints clicking in protest, and went to answer the summons.
She smiled sympathetically at the drawn figure with the pleading eyes that waited silently in her doorway. “Come on in. I wondered if I'd see you tonight.”
She led Cloud Kicker back into the living room and started hurriedly clearing off the sofa. “Sorry about the mess, I needed the table earlier and then the sofa tends to become a bit of a dumping-ground. Can't sleep?”
“No. I keep thinking...”
She trailed off, but Junebug understood perfectly. “I know. I don't feel much like sleeping after going through that, either. Coldheart stopped off on her way home; she says that Summer's going to be fine in a week or two, but all the same...! Did your mum and dad get off home all right, earlier?”
“Yeah. They've both got work in the morning,” Cloud Kicker said in a hollow voice, lowering herself onto the sofa.
“And suddenly the old house feels a bit quiet, doesn't it? You're welcome to stay if you want, the spare room is made up. Would you like something to drink? Cocoa, or maybe hot milk?”
Cloud Kicker summoned a ghost of a smile. “I haven't had hot milk in years.”
“It's a nice, calming thing, I find. Even if it's not quite the season for it. I won't be long.”
She stepped through into the kitchen and set to work. With the pan on the heat, she reached to pull a cup down and noticed a shadow move in the living room. A dark-grey form, its long, fluffy fur unkempt, rose from the pillow on the window sill and stretched unsteadily. She smiled fondly, Poor old Bertie, he really is feeling his age these days . He jumped down and padded slowly over towards the sofa and out of sight, but she heard the little chirp he always made when he jumped up and Cloud Kicker's startled inhalation. A few seconds later, she could just make out a low, decorous rumbling in the silence of the still night.
Smiling to herself, she returned to her task. A few minutes later she switched off the heat and poured two steaming mugs and placed them on a tray, adding a pair of cookies. Balancing the burden on her back, she poked her head around the door frame to see Cloud Kicker gently nuzzling the purring form curled up against her shoulder, her eyes already closed.
=====// \=====
=====// \=====
She cantered eagerly through the forest, ducking and weaving around the tall trunks of the sycamores and the poplars. She could hear his voice just up ahead, and she joined in with his laughter. Around them, the morning was crisp and beautiful, with the half-frozen dew sparkling on grass and leaves in the bright sunlight. She leapt lightly over a small stream, pumping her wings once to carry her well over into the snowdrops waving on the far bank, and sped onwards.
She could hear him urging her on as she swerved down a wide lane left by an old windfall, but it abruptly narrowed and ended in a cul-de-sac of thick brambles and thorns, far too high for her to jump and the canopy was too thick for her to fly over the obstacle. Quickly, she reversed her course and darted back onto the main trail. His voice was still there, but with a note of puzzlement. Her joyful canter gradually became a flat-out gallop, desperately searching for a fork or branch which would take her back towards him as the road started to curve away and his voice became fainter. Desperation mingled with rising fear in her chest and she skidded to a halt, but all she could hear in the vast, sunlight silence was the last mournful whispers of his voice trailing off to nothing.
She called for him, her voice echoing through the trees, but there was no answer.
She was alone.
=====// \=====
It was quite a long trek southwards before veering off to the south-east past the large rocky outcrop and up the long, gentle slope to her favourite stargazing spot. The hill gave an impressive view back towards Ponyville and the Everfree, but its biggest asset was being just high enough to be out of the haze which sometimes formed over the town. Tonight, the moon was at its lowest ebb, leaving the darkness to be broken only by the spectacular web of stars scattered like dewdrops across Luna's night. She ditched her saddlebags and started fussing with the tripod while Silver flopped onto the grass and rolled on his back, staring upwards.
“What a beautiful night,” said Silver quietly. “You want to tell me why we're here?”
Startled, she glanced over at him. “I-I don't know what you mean?”
“Oh, come on, Twilight!” he burst out angrily, rolling back up onto his hooves. “You stirred up the whole town and set them on me – stop playing games and tell me what it is you want!”
She took a reflexive step backwards. “No I didn't! Why would I do something like that?!”
“You tell me!” Silver snarled. Black trickles appeared in the half-light, slowly dribbling down his face. “You could have stopped this any time you wanted to – but you didn't. Why?”
“It-it's not that simple,” Twilight stuttered.
“Sure it is, but instead you want to watch Summer and I squirm. You keep dropping hints so they treat us like lepers, even your friends.” He took a step towards her, heavy coils of something dragging in the dust behind him. Oh, Goddess, that's... I can't look. The dark lines on his face merged and flowed together, forming a discolouring sheet that ran down over his chest and shoulders, too.
She swallowed desperately, trying not to gag. “That's completely untrue, Silver! Lives are at stake-”
“Yeah, mine! Mine and Summer's. So what is it? You want loyalty, worship? You want money – ha, boy are you going to be disappointed on that front! Tell me!”
“I can't!” Twilight cried wretchedly. “I'm really, really sorry, Silver, but right now I can't!”
Silver simply stared her down. “Your choice,” he said quietly, a fine mist of droplets spraying from his lips. With a tired sigh, he crumpled unmoving onto his side.
“S-silver?” Shaking, she took a step forward and touched his shoulder.
He was completely still.
His flesh was cold under her hoof.
=====// \=====
Her hooves tore up small clumps of the moist soil, galloping as hard as she could go towards the Berry farm with her breath burning in her throat. Up the driveway, now, and she swerved off onto the little path that led to his workshop. She hit his door like a hurricane, the words already tumbling out.
“Silver, have you seen my sis...”
The last word trailed away to silence as the unmitigated horror of the scene sank in on her. He was standing close by the door, a tomahawk clutched in his teeth, and the sun streaming orange through the opened shutters shone brightly on the blood soaking his chest and shoulders and the little yellow corpse at his hooves.
“Apple Bloom?” she whispered in disbelief, almost a prayer that her eyes were deceiving her.
“Hey, Applejack,” he said cheerfully. He lobbed the tomahawk over to her, and it landed at her hooves with a heavy thump. “You wanna have a go, too?”
She blinked, but the scene refused to change. It was burned into her retinas, an irremovable stain that would haunt her for the rest of her life. “Apple Bloom? Apple Bloom?!” Her voice rose to a shriek, “What have you done with my sister?!”
“What do you mean-” he started to say, but her front hooves had already planted themselves as she powered her hind legs through the strongest buck she'd ever delivered in her life.
She felt the smooth, heavy shock through her hindquarters, and pinwheeled back around in time to see him crash to the floor amidst his machinery, his head striking the base of one of them with a sickening crack. The next thing she knew, she was poised over him on her hind legs, driving her forelegs down on him again and again in a howling vortex of rage and pain and sheer, visceral hate-
“Applejack?”
That familiar little voice, filled with horror and revulsion, was the only thing that could have brought her back to herself. Panting, she spun around to see a little yellow filly with a large pink bow in her mane staring saucer-eyed at her from the doorway.
“Applebloom?”
“Is he... oh, great Celestia! Applejack, why?”
It was. It was Applebloom, but her eyes contained no love for her sister, only abhorrence and abject fear. Her stomach churning, she looked down and saw her forelegs covered in his blood, indelibly stained red amidst the shattered ruin of his head. Next to Applebloom was a sculpture, almost foal-size. The blond wood was heavily splashed with blood and little flecks of grey, but wood nonetheless.
“Applejack, why? He was teaching me!” Applebloom started to cry, shaking her head wildly. “I thought he was your friend!”
“Applebloom-”
She took a step towards her sister, but the little filly backed away. “No! Stay away from me! You killed him! How could you, you killed him! What sort of monster are you?”
She jerked upright, her pulse thundering in her temples and her sister's horrified screams ringing in her ears.
=====// \=====
Princess Celestia took the sheaf of reports from her private secretary, who bowed low and vanished through the Opal Office's side door. Leafing through the summaries of the previous day's court petitioners, she started to make notes on which to action and which to set aside and gradually lost herself in the mundane task that consumed such a part of her morning. The sharp rattle of hooves in the little courtyard outside announced Luna's arrival, and the firmness of her step and stiff set of her neck announced that the Princess of the Night was not happy.
“Is everything all right, Luna?” she asked mildly.
Luna blew out a long snort, and gradually the stern set of her face faded. “An unquiet night in many places, sister. Ponyville not least,” she explained in a quiet voice. “I was occupied full well.”
Celestia carefully set down her bundle and focussed on her sister. Unbeknown to all of Equestria's inhabitants bar a very few, Luna actively guarded the night from many things – physical and otherwise – and her title of 'Defender of the Realm' was not an idle one. “Is there anything we need to be concerned about?”
Luna shook her head. “Nay, the ramparts against the spirits of Tartarus are secure. 'Twas but an unhappy night, as happens from time to time.”
Celestia sighed and stretched. “And so they do. And not a few of our little ponies have things to be unhappy about. Have you seen this morning's papers?”
Luna shook her head, and Celestia sent the copies on the far edge of her desk floating over to her sister, one by one.
Luna scowled and flicked the copy of The Fox into the unlit fireplace with one hoof as if it was diseased. “I can't believe you send out for this, sister. A truly scurrilous, shameless rag!”
“We should always know what our ponies are saying, Luna, scurrilous or not. Plus, their recent attempts to make our nephew into some sort of sex symbol are really quite entertaining.”
“Victim's friend? What is this?”
Celestia sighed. “Twilight sent me a letter late last night. It seems that Silver Braise's friend and travelling companion has run afoul of some sort of rare, dangerous parasite. Luckily, the Zebra shaman, Zecora, recognised the insect and was able to remove it, but Summer Clip is quite ill.”
“This is no ordinary insect then, I take it?”
“Apocrita sarkophagos – the Flesh-Eating Wasp, or Corpse Wasp. I must confess, I am not familiar with it, but it sounds decidedly unpleasant. Twilight indicated that she is sending it to the University for study.”
“Not via that grey mailmare she sent our Hearth's Warming cards with, I hope, if the creature is dangerous?”
“I think she'll bring it herself. We still have work to do to find the source of our troubles, and she was never content to sit on her haunches when there is work to be done.”
=====// \=====
“The results of our investigation, which I have explained to you now, will be turned over to the coroner to allow her to reach a verdict at the inquest. Now, seeing as there's criminal proceedings arising from your son's death, this means that the inquest will be delayed until after the court case has concluded. However, to permit you to have a funeral the Coroner will issue what's called an Order for Burial, and also an Interim Certificate of the Fact of Death which will let you take care of his affairs.”
Shining Armour sat silently in the corner as Nightjack's voice wound on and on. No matter what the Sergeant said and how he said it – and Nightjack's voice exuded caring and sincerity – he wondered how much the two ponies on the other side of the table were taking in. They were dry-eyed but clinging to each other, open-mouthed in pain and staring across the table in incomprehension at Nightjack and Cui Bono.
Finally, the torture came to an end. “Do either of you have any questions?”
After along moment, Amber and Copper slowly shook their heads, and Cui Bono gave them a sympathetic smile. To Shining Armour's mild surprise after some of the things that other ponies had said about her, the Prosecutor's manner was every bit as compassionate as Nightjack's.
“I know that this has been an awful lot to take in at once, so after you've had some time to digest this a little if there's anything you want to know you can speak to Sergeant Nightjack at any time, or ask the Colonel to find out for you,” she said. “Detective Inspector Autumn Breeze and I both need to return to Canterlot soon but if there's anything they can't answer, they will write to us and we will answer as quickly as possible. For now, I think that's everything we can tell you.”
Mechanically, Silver's parents shook hooves and muttered farewells, still lost somewhere in their own thoughts. Nightjack ushered them out of the little interview room and back into the public area, where Amber paused for a moment.
“Sergeant, is there any word about Summer? I mean, from your Constable?”
“Hold on a second.” Nightjack ducked back into the back rooms and emerged a few minutes later. “Bluebell says that she was able to speak to Summer, but while she's improving she's exhausted from fighting the fever. The doctor said that she's not really strong enough for more visitors today, and they think that she's likely to sleep for most of the day.”
“I see. Thank you. And thank your Constable for us.”
“No problem, Ma'am. As we said, if there's anything we can do for you, please just ask.”
Stumbling outside, the two ponies stopped a few paces from the door, eyes closed and chests heaving as they nuzzled together for comfort. Shining Armour hovered nearby, feeling uncomfortably like he was intruding, but after a moment Amber spoke, her voice raspy.
“Colonel? It's been a pretty overwhelming morning and I think... I think we'd like to be alone for a while.”
=====// \=====
Shining Armour returned to the library to find his sister engulfed in a whirlwind of packing. She darted back and forth to the bulging saddlebags on the library's central table, a cloud of books and scrolls orbiting her head while Spike scurried after her with all sorts of odds and ends, looking harassed. In a clear space on the table sat a large box stencilled with the words “Fragile” and “Dangerous” at every possible angle.
“Hey Twily – going somewhere?”
“Yes – Canterlot. I need to get this... thing... to the University as soon as possible. The Department of Entomology has some specimens in their collection which might let us determine where it came from. Not only that, but I need to see Princess Celestia. We've still got a killer to catch.”
“What about Applejack?”
“Pro Bono's finished here for the time being, so she'll be taking the train back to Canterlot with me. Applejack put the farm up to meet bail, and she's staying there until the trial is called.” Twilight frowned as she gave up trying to ram a last book into her bags and started lashing it on top with string instead. “I told her that I'd scrape up the money. Her family need that farm.”
“Yeah, well, that's not going to be a problem unless she decides not to show,” he pointed out. “Do you know when her case is going to come up?”
“That depends. If it's in Canterlot, then not for a few months, but the Bono sisters were cooking something up about neutral territory – they both seem to think that there's an advantage to having the trial away from Canterlot. There's a session scheduled in Fillydelphia in a month or so, so maybe then.” Twilight grunted as she settled the weight of her bags across her withers and changed the subject. “Has there been any word about Summer?“
“Bluebell spoke to her this morning. She was well enough to make a statement, but apparently she's still fighting the fever.”
“I'll need a copy of that,” Twilight said brusquely. “Spike can send it to the Princess for you.”
His eyebrows shot up at her rudeness and he glanced at Spike, who just shrugged. “I'll see what I can do.”
“Right, then I need to get a move on or I'm going to miss the train. Spike-”
“Yeah, yeah, I'm in charge; try not to burn the place down; If I do, see Rarity; don't eat all the ice-cream; re-shelving after 3 o'clock only; don't nibble on the Element of Magic, no matter how tasty it looks-”
“Just do it and don't give me any lip, Spike!” Twilight snapped, rounding on him. The little dragon blinked in shock but didn't reply, a mutinous look stealing across his face.
Shining Armour had seen enough. “Hey Spike, could you give us a minute?”
“Sure, fine,” he huffed, and stomped sulkily upstairs.
“Shiny, I need to go,” Twilight said peremptorily, lifting the box in her magic and marching over to him.
He backed up a few steps, blocking the door, and waited for the inevitable slam of the bedroom door upstairs. With a deep breath, he looked her in the eye and started to speak in a low, firm voice. “Twily, what's going on? Did you listen to yourself just now? If you want somepony to do you a favour, some manners wouldn't go amiss. And there's no need to snap at Spike like that.”
“I don't have time for this.” Twilight's tone was harsh, but he thought he could see a sort of desperation in her eyes.
“You speak to your other friends like that? Because they won't stay your friends for long if you do.”
Twilight looked stricken, and her voice sank to a frantic near-whisper. “Shiny, I have to go. I have to go, or I'm going to be late, I can't be late, I just can't be, if I'm late-”
Not only was there naked begging in her voice, but her magic faltered and he had to snatch the box with his own levitation spell before it hit the floor. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What's going on, what is this? Look...” He stamped a hoof in frustration and stepped out of her way. “Go on, get going, but Twilight? We need to talk when you get back. Something isn't right, and I want to help.”
Twilight took her precious cargo back from him and lunged for the door, relief on her face as her words came tumbling out. “Thanks, Shiny. You're the best. Gotta go, bye!”
He watched her hurry away, saddlebags flapping awkwardly on her back and the large box clutched in her magic, and sighed. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was afraid of something.
=====// \=====
It was late in the afternoon when Sergeant Nightjack found him idly polishing his breastplate in the back garden, having long since given up on persuading Spike out of his sulk. The sun was shining, he was fed up with talking to a door, and he was uncomfortably aware that he had allowed his normal routine to slip for a few days. He wouldn't stand for that from his subordinates, so he had hunted out some supplies and set to work, assisted by a curious jay that fluttered down from the library's branches and kept trying to see its reflection in the bright metal.
The Sergeant was flanked by a pair of hollow-eyed Earth ponies. Amber gave him a weak smile in greeting, but Copper's craggy face was as unreadable as ever. Nightjack's own greeting was calm and controlled, but had an air of formality that said that this wasn't a social visit.
“Afternoon, Colonel. I was about to take Amber and Copper up to the Berry farm, if you'd join us?”
“Uh... sure. Just give me a moment.”
He hustled inside and piled his armour on the kitchen table, together with the rag and polish that he'd borrowed from under the sink, and he took a moment to wipe the smears of polish off his hooves before trotting out through the front to meet them. Nightjack nodded and set off at his authoritative, swinging walk, Silver's parents trailing a few paces behind him.
They walked in silence through the town. A few ponies waved or said hallo as they passed, but he noticed that they all tended to stop or give way when they saw Nightjack leading the little procession. Almost without thinking about it, Shining Armour had fallen into step with the police pony, but it wasn't until they were approaching the edge of town that he felt able to ask in a low voice, “Have they cleaned up out there?”
Nightjack walked a few steps before replying. “As far as they can, yes. The Berrys dug over the ground outside a day or so ago, and I asked your Pegasi to give it a good storm dousing before they left. The inside's not great, but there wasn't much we could do about that other than throw some sawdust down. It'll have to do. Have you given any thought to what we talked about last time we came out here?”
Shining Armour caught on quickly and retrieved a letter that he'd tucked into his mane, passing over a single, folded sheet of heavy bond. He made no comment, having read its contents earlier.
=====// \=====
Dear Sgt. Nightjack,
With regard to the matter you are investigating in Ponyville; I regret that I am now able to confirm the presence of a certain dangerous creature in the Everfree Forest during the last several months. This creature has now left the forest, its current whereabouts unknown, but the unfortunate death of Silver Braise bears the hallmarks of its work.
As I intimated to you at the beginning of your investigation, the existence of the creature is to be considered a matter of national importance. Twilight Sparkle and Col. Shining Armour have been briefed on this matter and they have passed on such information as may be safely revealed to you. I regret that I am not able to aid the investigation as I would like, but I must ask for your utmost discretion. Please destroy this letter once you have finished reading it.
Celestia
Goddess of the Sun and Princess co-Regnant of Equestria
=====// \=====
Nightjack squinted down his muzzle through his glasses at it while he walked, pursing his lips thoughtfully. Eventually, he floated it out in front of himself and a little tongue of yellow flame grew at one corner until the letter was consumed.
“Well. I guess that answers that,” he said, crushing the last wisp of ash to dust with a large hoof. “It does seem a shame to burn a genuine letter from the Princess, though. I always wanted to meet her when I was little.”
“Well, now you have – although I imagine it probably wasn't what you had in mind.”
“True, that.”
As she had on his previous visit, Cerise Berry was waiting for them at the top of the driveway – presumably something Nightjack had arranged beforehoof. The bluff old mare looked very solemn, and ducked her head formally when she greeted them. “Ma'am, sir. I'm Cerise Berry, the owner hereabouts and the pony your son rented his workshop from. I can't tell you how sorry I am for your loss; your son was a fine pony and a friend to all my family, and if there's anything we can do for you we'd be honoured for a chance to help.”
“T-thank you,” Amber stuttered, swallowing rapidly. “I'm Amber, and this is my husband Copper.”
The big Earth pony said nothing but gave a short nod, and after an awkward moment Cerise turned away. “If you'd all like to follow me, please?”
A narrow lane led down between piles of broken and rusting farm machinery to the rear of Silver's workshop. A chunky hasp and staple had been recently added to the back door, judging by the glittering new metal, and Cerise wrestled for a minute to unlock the large padlock and shove the door open. She stepped aside rather than enter, and Nightjack took her place and turned to face Silver's parents.
“As I said at the Station, your son's workshop has been treated as a crime scene and it appears that he was quite badly hurt in here. While we have collected all the necessary evidence and there is no further need for us to preserve it, there is still a certain amount of disturbance in there and some signs of the scene examination that took place. Additionally, the room was thoroughly searched, so your son's belongings are likely to be disturbed or not as he left them. I'm afraid that this is going to be very difficult for you. There is no rush, no time pressure, so please take your time.”
Amber was shaking badly, but managed to reply. “Have to do it some time.” Copper just stared stonily ahead, the familiar anger burning in his eyes.
With a final, intent look, Nightjack stepped aside and let Amber and Copper enter before following behind them. With a glance at Ma Berry, Shining Armour plunged into the gloomy building after them.
Inside, the darkness was pierced by shafts of sunlight sneaking in through gaps around the shutters and cracks in the walls, making it difficult for his eyes to adjust to the ambient light. The air was stale and the scent of the wood dust which had been scattered in thick patches around the room still carried a hint of the blood which had soaked into the dirt floor beneath. There was the big pool there, and the bucket lying over there. At least they've collected all the markers, but it looks like they went mad dusting for hoof-prints.
Meanwhile, Nightjack was explaining the layout in a low voice. “This is the main part of your son's workshop. He had quite an array of machinery and tools and the like out here, and you'll see a number of projects he was working on for his customers. He had a corner partitioned off over there to make a sort of bedroom and living area. That's where most of his personal items were collected.”
Amber circled the room in a daze, touching an item here and there with a gentle hoof and sniffling quietly, but keeping well away from the jumbled pile of timbers where the shelving had collapsed. Copper swayed on his hooves in the middle of the room, his jaw clenched so tightly that the cords stood out in his neck and his eyes afire with pain and helpless rage.
“There will be a book,” Amber said abruptly into the silence. “He always kept a book – his accounts. Who owes, and who he owes.”
“I know the book you mean,” Nightjack said gently. “It's in a package I put together and left in his bedroom, together with letters and some other personal items.”
“Good. I-” Amber broke off with a great gasping sob and pressed a hoof to her mouth. A few quick strides took Copper to her shoulder, and the big pony nuzzled his wife lovingly for a moment until she gently pushed him away, fighting for breath. “I'll see to it that anypony he owes money gets their due. It's only right. Now, can we...?”
Feeling that he was intruding enough, Shining Armour stayed where he was and watched as they filed into Silver's bedroom.
“Do you have foals, Colonel?”
He blinked in surprise at the unexpected voice. He had almost forgotten that the old mare was there. “No.”
Cerise sighed. “I'm old, Colonel. Older than I look, and I don't mean because of the few small vanities I allow myself. I've raised three fillies and a colt myself, and now I'm watching them start families of their own. One day, they'll have to bury my old bones, because that's the way it is – that's nature. But I can't imagine the pain those two ponies must be going through, to have to bury one of your foals.”
He could hear the murmur of Nightjack's muffled voice from the bedroom – patient, soothing, futile. “Their only foal. I almost think they shouldn't have come here. All it can do is make them hurt.”
Cerise nodded slowly. “But it's all they have left.”
He raised a hoof to concede the point. “Then maybe we should leave them to it.”
What little space their was between the workshop and the rubbish heap was made even smaller by the large, heavy cart parked under the eves on one side and the smaller gig parked on the other, bearing neatly painted letters on its tailboard. Silver Braise. Carpentry & Woodwork.
The lack of space and light sent Cerise wandering up the hill into the rubbish heap where she could stand in the sun, out of the building's shadow which stretched back up the lane, and he soon followed her. She moved absent-mindedly and seemingly without effort but he had to place each hoof carefully and check it would bear his weight amidst the long, waving grass which grew up through the wreckage of ancient farm machinery, hiding the hummocks and lumps of debris and sharp-edged rusted metal which lay in wait for an unwary hoof.
They made small-talk for what seemed like an eternity in the lowering sun, but at last they saw the three ponies file out through the door, and they carefully made their way down to join them as Nightjack re-clasped the heavy padlock, securing the workshop once again. Both of Silver's parents had tear-streaked faces, and Amber bore a small cardboard box on her back which she kept turning her head to look at as they trekked back up to the farmhouse. Copper's stony glare had become more of a strained grimace, and the effort of his self-restraint told in the cords standing out in the old pony's neck.
At the steps to the verandah, Cerise paused. “You're all welcome to come in and stay a while, if you like. Cup of tea – or something stronger, if that's your fancy?”
Amber looked uncertainly at Nightjack, who read her expression and nodded. “Perhaps another time, thank you, Cerise.”
The dark-red mare shuffled her hooves awkwardly. “Well, before you go, there's probably a few things I oughta say. Amber, Copper, I'm so very sorry for your loss. You can probably see that the old storage shed isn't in the best condition. Matter of fact, nopony had used it in nearly 20 years and we were thinking about knocking it down, until Silver came along. He claimed it was just what he wanted, so we fixed it up a bit for him – the worst of it, anyway – and he moved in.
“I'm sure you saw the part that collapsed, and... and they tell me that your son stopped it landing on a little filly that was visiting him. Sounds like it hurt him pretty badly. That was a brave thing to do, but he shouldn't have had to do it. I rented him that building – that makes it my responsibility.”
“He was the woodworker.” Shining Armour turned his head at the harsh growl and saw Copper's chin quivering as he forced the words out past his clenched teeth. “He should have known.”
Cerise blinked, one rear hoof stamping nervously. “I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. I'd never have let it out to him if-”
Copper cut her off. “He should have known.”
Cerise looked away, chewing on her lip. “Well. Be that as it may, once everything's done down there, I've decided to knock it down. There's no point repairing it, and nopony's going to want to use it now, not after what happened there.”
Nightjack took over for her. “We have finished with the investigation, so once you have decided what to do with Silver's belongings we'll turn it back over to Cerise and her family. If you want, we can arrange shipping of Silver's tools and belongings back to Fetlock Bath, or items that you don't want can be sold here in Ponyville or in Canterlot and the money passed back to you. I understand that the Princesses will meet any expenses, is that right, Colonel?”
“Yes, that's correct,” he confirmed.
“Do whatever you want,” Copper growled shortly, his voice trembling. Amber placed a hoof on his shoulder, but he shook it off. “Knock the place down on top of it. Burn the bloody lot, I couldn't care less!”
Shining Armour blinked in surprise. “But his tools and things -”
Copper rounded on him, tears streaming down his cheeks and his voice rising to a shout, “What use are they now!? I can't use them – they're no earthly use to us! What good are they without the pony to wield them? What use are they without Silver?”
His voice broke on his son's name, and the big Earth pony wheeled abruptly and stormed away down the drive.
“Copper!” Amber called after him, her voice a mixture of admonishment and pleading, but he didn't stop and after a moment she hurried after him.
In the silence that they left behind, Nightjack sighed tiredly. “We'll sort it out and let you know, Cerise. I think they've had as much as they can bear for today.”
=====// \=====
Shining Armour walked back to the library on his own. Nightjack had taken on the prickly task of tailing Silver's parents to ensure that they found their way back to their hotel, and he didn't envy the police pony's task in dealing with the distraught couple. Unwilling to intrude on their grief, he settled for leaving a message with the hotel porter that he would be at the library if they needed anything.
The following morning, he returned from checking that his Pegasus charioteers were well-quartered and recovering from their long flight to find Copper Braise waiting patiently in a corner of the library by the Natural History section. Spike was hovering anxiously nearby, seemingly unnerved by the silent pony with the stern, forbidding face.
Hearing Shining Armour's hooves, the Earth pony turned and greeted him tersely. “Colonel.”
He nodded politely in reply. “Good morning Mr. Braise. What can I help you with?”
“I thought I should go and check on young Summer. Thought she might like to see a familiar face, too.”
He looked over at Spike, who shrugged. “Of course. I think it's nearing morning visiting hours for her ward, if my information is correct.”
He led Copper outside and they set off in silence, heading away from the town centre. Copper was the one to break it.
“I should probably apologise for my carry-on yesterday. It was rude and uncalled-for,” he mumbled gruffly.
“Don't worry about it. You're under a lot of stress at the moment. Is, uh, is Amber all right?”
Copper was silent for a few paces. “She took away a box of Silver's papers yesterday. Letters and things, mostly from us. There's a couple addressed to us that he hadn't sent yet.” Copper swallowed. “I left her reading them. Wanted to get out. She needs a lie-in, anyway.”
“Of course.”
“She's had to deal with too much recently. Made all the decisions on this... this trip. I've not really been much help.” A brief, awkward smile touched Copper's lips. “Time I started pulling my weight.”
Oh Celestia, it's that friend of Twily's again over there! He raised a hoof half-heartedly at the white Unicorn on the far side of the street who was fluttering her eyelashes and waving coyly at him, and strode purposely on.
Turning back to Copper, he replied, “I can't pretend to know what you're going through, but you can only cope with so much, and that's when you need other ponies to help support you. Nightjack and I will do what we can, and I'm sure that everypony in town will do their best to help you.”
“Perhaps. From what my son wrote, they weren't too keen on helping him.” He snorted shortly and changed the subject. “It seems a little strange to find you staying in a library.”
“My sister runs the place together with Spike. She's away in Canterlot at the moment.”
“Your sister is Twilight Sparkle?”
Shining Armour nodded.
“He wrote about her once or twice. I don't think they got along.”
Shining Armour looked around reflexively before answering in a low voice. “If you know who my sister is, you probably know that sometimes she's caught up in things that she can't talk freely about. I'm sorry to say that this was one of them. As I understand it, she knew and understood why Silver was angry – but she didn't have any choice.”
Copper looked thoughtful as he walked on, but the rest of the trip was completed in silence.
Ponyville Urgent Care Hospital was a surprisingly-spacious two-storey building for such a small town, but once stepping through the doors it was much like every other hospital Shining Armour had ever seen. The same smells, the same white-painted walls, the same anxious-looking ponies. Follow the blue line to the second floor, then the green line to Ward 3. Take a left at appendicitis, and straight on until renal colic.
The stallion at the nurses' station directed them to a room at the end of the corridor, and Shining Armour hung back as Copper took a deep breath and pushed open the door. There was a yelp of “Copper!” from inside followed almost immediately by a pony bursting into tears, and Copper hurried over to the bedside to sweep a little grey mare up in a hug.
With a small smile, he let the door swing shut and retreated to the little waiting area by the nurses' station. They didn't need him for this.
=====// \=====
There was only so many times you could leaf through a torn copy of Hoofball Monthly from 9 months ago, so Shining Armour was trying to plan a training Field Exercise in his head when a cough startled him out of his chain of thought. He gave Copper a small smile. “How's she doing?”
“Better, better,” the big pony rumbled. “She'll be out of here soon, but then...” He trailed off, looking troubled, and Shining Armour noticed that he was nibbling nervously on his lips and shifting his weight from one hoof to another.
He rose to his hooves and shut the door to give them some privacy. “Is there something wrong, Copper?”
“My son. He's here, isn't he? I-I was wondering... I was thinking that I ought to make some arrangements. I don't know, I...” Copper looked up almost fearfully. “Should I see him? I feel like I ought to see him, but from what they said...”
Shining Armour's guts clenched uncomfortably, and he tried to keep his voice calm and steady. “He is being held here for the time being, yes. Once you and Amber have decided what you want to do, we need to speak to the Coroner – the Mayor, in this case – who will issue you with an Order for Burial.”
Copper was hunched forward slightly, his words coming in gasps. “They said... his injuries...”
“Your son was very badly hurt, and they also had to do the autopsy. I don't know whether his body is suitable for viewing at the moment, but I can find out for you.”
“Thank you. Please, I-I'd like to see him. One last time.”
He nearly asked whether Copper was sure he wanted to do this, but decided to keep quiet and set off to find a pony who could help him. Privately, he was half-hoping the doctors would refuse. The last time he'd seen Silver Braise still woke him at night.
It took nearly half an hour for him to find the right pony, a weathered-looking tan Unicorn with a greying brown mane, and he then spent a further half-hour in a different waiting room on the ground floor at the back of the hospital. Copper was fetched from upstairs by a nurse, and they sat in silence while they waited. In contrast with the poster-decked walls and worn, cheap couches upstairs, this room was altogether more upmarket. The walls were wood-panelled, the furniture was so new it squeaked, and original paintings dotted the walls between the oppressive black velvet drapes.
Eventually the doctor returned, tucking a pair of golden pince-nez into the top pocket of his white jacket. He gave Shining Armour a speculative look, and addressed himself solely to Copper.
“Mr. Braise? I'm Doctor Dray, Senior Consultant here at P.U.C. I'm sorry to have to meet you under these circumstances. On behalf of the hospital and staff, please accept our sincere condolences for your terrible loss.”
Copper nodded tightly, his face set in its familiar stern mask once more.
“Now, I'm sorry for the delay but we need a little time for the attendants to set up our viewing room, just down the hall, here. Once we're ready for you, I'll take you through into the room where you'll be able to spend as much time with him as you wish. Have you ever viewed a body before?”
“My grandmother,” Copper said shortly.
Doctor Dray nodded. “The body is being kept under an embalming spell, but sometimes ponies look different in death than you're used to in life. Please take your time entering the room – no matter how you try to prepare yourself, it can still be a tremendous shock. If you start to feel faint, please tell me immediately.”
The doctor's voice rolled smoothly on, but he wondered just how much Copper was taking in. The Earth pony was glassy-eyed and reduced to short, jerky nods, holding his usual stoic expression by sheer force of will.
Eventually there was a tap at the door, and Doctor Dray gave Copper a sympathetic smile. “I think they're ready for us now, so if you'd like to follow me, please? Remember, don't feel that you have to hurry.”
Feeling apprehensive himself, Shining Armour quietly tagged on behind them. The corridor stretched on in front of them, but the doctor stopped at a single, unmarked oak door which stood out from the usual institutional white.
“Okay, deep breath. Take your time.”
The room was dimly lit by lily-shaped uplights spaced around walls lined with low couches. Sprays of wild flowers sat in vases on little tables immediately beneath each light, but the central feature of the room was a catafalque hung with dark-red velvet. The figure of a pony lay atop it, covered in a white sheet folded back just far enough to reveal a grey head with a dark-grey mane. The eyes were closed and his expression was thankfully peaceful. Copper's hoofsteps were lost in the thick carpet as he walked slowly over and looked down at his son, his lips clamped tightly together and his body shaking. There was a muffled thump as his hindquarters abruptly hit the floor, but he reached out a hoof and gently touched his son's cheek.
Shining Armour and the doctor, still standing by the door, silently exchanged looks and lowered themselves onto nearby couches to wait. Time stretched out as Copper said his silent goodbyes, marked only by sniffles and uneven gasps, but there was no feeling of impatience.
Finally, Shining Armour saw Copper nod slowly and stroke his son's mane one final time. His hoarse voice was quiet but nonetheless carried clearly as he spoke for the first and only time in the room, then turned away.
“I love you, son.”
=====// \=====
The knock at the door sounded almost apologetic, but Cloud Kicker smiled and excused herself to answer it anyway. It was good to see her smile; lunch out at the café was just one more step back towards a normal life, and making her laugh and smile again was another little victory on that road. Unless it just makes her feel guilty later about forgetting for a few minutes, I suppose.
She was dragged out of her musings by the voice of the visitor at the door; female, pleasant enough, maybe around her age.
“Are you Cloud Kicker?”
The timidity of the question piqued her interest, and she took a few paces towards the door herself to see who it was before feeling guilty about being nosy. It can't be a reporter, they're not short of self-confidence.
“Yes,” the Pegasus answered warily. “Can I help you?”
Silence stretched out for a few awkward moments before the visitor blurted, “I'm sorry, I'll go. I shouldn't be here-”
Cloud Kicker took a step forwards. “Wait! Look, you've come to find me, and now you have. Is there some thing wrong?”
Junebug heard a sniffle. “I'm so sorry, I don't mean to intrude, just... I wanted to meet you. My name's Amber.”
There was another long pause before the mare spoke again – and a hitch in her voice when she did.
“I'm Silver's mum.”
=====// \=====
It was more than an hour before Copper emerged from the waiting room where they had left him to regain his composure. Grim-faced as usual, something had gone out of him after seeing his son's body. While he was still as physically imposing as ever, he seemed to have shrunk in stature – perhaps something in the set of his neck or the angle of his ears. Any questions were answered in monosyllables, and Shining Armour pondered what to do next on the walk back to the hotel.
He wondered, too, how much Copper Braise had explained to his wife about his visit. Over the following days they made regular trips to the hospital together to visit Summer but she never showed any inclination to visit the dismal little room downstairs. Eventually, he felt compelled to ask her while Copper went to get coffee.
“I'd rather not,” Amber had said with an agonised smile. “Silver's dead, Colonel. I don't need to see him to know that, and I'd rather remember him as he was.”
Something had finally broken in his parents, and there came a steady stream of decisions, one of which was that Silver's clothes and tack was to be donated to charity and all his tools and equipment was to be cleared out and sold. Shining Armour spent several days with his guardsponies clearing Silver's old workshop, methodically cataloguing and boxing everything ahead of the arrival of an agent from Canterlot who would be in charge of its disposition.
He was watching the last box begin loaded onto a cart to the train station when Cerise appeared with Amber and Copper in tow.
“Hi there. How's Summer doing?”
“She was released this afternoon. The doctor says she should be well enough to travel with us for the funeral,” Amber said in a subdued voice. “We've been helping her pack.”
“Does she know what she wants to do afterwards, yet?”
“No – other than start again somewhere else. You're sure that it's no trouble to bring her back again?”
“Not at all. My guardsponies will need to get back to Canterlot anyway. Did you receive the box of things you asked for?”
“Yes, thank you. The porter brought them up when they arrived.”
“Well then. I suppose the place is all yours again, Mrs. Berry. Unless Nightjack has any objection, of course.”
Cerise nodded, her usual bluff cheer absent. “If he did, he would have said before now. In fact, with your permission, Amber, Copper, we were going to start knocking the place down. It shouldn't take long.”
A swarm of Berrys was summoned down from the house and they quickly set to work with the help of Shining Armour's guardsponies. They made short work of the demolition with axes and strategically-placed ropes to collapse the roof and walls and toss any remaining timbers into a rough pile. As Cerise's Pegasus daughter flew overhead scattering a tin of oil on the old wood, her son approached with a long stick, its head wrapped in rough cotton.
“Sir, we were wondering if you'd like to do the honours?”
Amber and Copper exchanged a look, and finally Copper took the stick gingerly in his mouth while the plum-coloured stallion struck a match. When the brand was burning evenly, Copper arched his neck and sent it spinning end over end into the jumble of timbers. There was a low cough as the oil-soaked timber caught, and the wood began to crackle and spit as the first grey tendrils of smoke reached up into the sky.
Nopony spoke as the flames grew, instead watching with silent reverence as the old building was consumed. One by one, the Berrys slipped away back to the farmhouse, all except for Cerise. Unwilling to disturb the silence, Shining Armour quietly dismissed the guards and went to sit beside Mrs. Berry. In front of them, sitting shoulder to shoulder on their haunches and supporting each other, Amber and Copper watched the fire burn, the intense heat drying the tears that ran from their eyes.
=====// \=====
Shining Armour took a few deep breaths and cast his eyes around the little loading bay at the rear of the hospital. The sun beat down mercilessly on his champron and barding, but the heat was a minor distraction to which he was long-accustomed.
“Settle down, everywhere! Squad! Squad... Atten-shun !”
The two Pegasus ponies hitched to the chariot in front of him straightened their ramrod-stiff postures even more and stamped their right front hooves down in unison. Moments later, four more Pegasus guards in full armour appeared through a large double-door, marching slowly down the ramp with a simple wooden casket borne on their interlocked wings. With stately, co-ordinated movements, the coffin was lowered into the chariot and, relieved of their burden, they resumed postures of attention.
“Bearers – fall in !” Shining Armour boomed. While the four guards took up station immediately behind the chariot, he about-faced and counted off twenty seconds in his head for Trooper Windborn to prepare himself. A quiet click-click signalled that the Trooper was ready.
“Squad! By the left! Slow march! ”
The sound of seven left front hooves hitting the ground in unison was lost in a heavy double-beat of Windborn's muffled drum, setting the measured and stately pace of their march through Ponyville. It also served as an announcement and warning of their approach, with ponies emerging from shops and houses in ones and twos to watch the procession. It clearly didn't register with one preoccupied-looking tan pony with a slicked-back mane wearing a collar and tie who hurried out into the road with his head down, but a sharp roar of “Make way from the Princesses' Guard! ” sent him scurrying for the pavement.
They entered the town's main square and wheeled left, angling across towards the town hall where two more chariots waited, their crews standing at attention also. Amber and Copper were standing aboard one of them while a grey mare lay at their hooves, looking curiously from the rear of the chariot. The second chariot was piled high with luggage, while the relief crews were formed up beside each one.
“Squad! Squad... halt! ”
The procession stood frozen precisely at attention as the echoes of his voice and the last drumbeat died away across the square.
His voice rang out once more. “Honours to the dead! Present arms! ”
They had gathered a large crowd of onlookers – what seemed like most of the village – and the usual constant murmur of busy, cheerful ponies and scrape and clop of their hooves on the cobbled streets was stilled. Foals that usually ran free were pulled close by their parents' legs, their youthful exuberance curbed and eyes wide at the unfamiliar, sombre atmosphere. Finally, he gave the command to release them. “Order arms! ”
Once the last echoes of hooves on the ground died away, he marched sharply up to the chariot bearing Silver's parents and best friend. “Well. I think everything is in order and the teams are ready, so all that remains is to say goodbye,” he said quietly.
Amber gave him a strained smile and held out a hoof for him to shake. “Thank you for everything, Colonel.” For a moment she looked like she would say more, but stopped. In truth, what was there to say?
He receiving a hoofshake and a grave nod from Copper but Summer, her gaskin heavily bandaged, merely wiped her eyes and gave him a half-hearted wave. He stepped back and gestured to the chariot team leader. “Have a safe trip.”
At their Sergeant's command, the charioteers set off at a rapidly-accelerating trot across the square before they hit a canter and their wings broke out, beating strongly and lifting their burden into the air. With a final circuit of the town the three chariots set out south-east for Fetlock Bath, the spare teams in tight formation to either side. The sun gleamed brightly from their polished armour, but neither they nor their passengers looked back.
With a long sigh, Shining Armour reached up and pulled off his champron, letting the wind ruffle his sweat-streaked mane. For better or worse, it was over.
=====// \=====
=====// \=====
It was only when the burly Unicorn in the corner of the windowless little room glared at her that she realised that she was doing it again. Her left hind hoof was tapping out a rapid beat on the worn linoleum and she snatched it off the ground to kill the sound before trying to force the tic to stop. Land's sake, girl, you gotta get a hold of yerself!
The Unicorn snorted and resumed his previous position, his black jacket and tie standing out starkly against the matt peach-coloured walls. Perhaps the strange colour was supposed to give the place a more homely look but if so, that touch was muted by the harsh industrial lighting and lost completely in the oppressive feel of solid concrete beneath the linoleum and the thinly-padded furniture which was heavily built – and firmly bolted to the floor.
The second uniformed Unicorn shot a look at his companion and gave her an empty smile. “Shouldn't be long now, Miss.”
'Shouldn't be long' stretched out unbearably until finally the sudden chime nearly made her scream. The custody officers came to life, the friendlier of the two at her shoulder. “Right – follow me.”
With that, he shouldered open the heavy, magically-grounded door and she stumbled along beside him, her second escort close behind them. They squeezed through a short corridor which opened out into the main chamber of Fillydelphia Crown Court. To her right, the judge peered benevolently down from a grandiose carved-oak desk on a raised platform, a yellow Earth pony in a violet and black gown with a red sash and her mane hidden under a short, stiff-looking white wig. Arrayed in front of her were a variety of court functionaries who watched impassively as she was led across to the dock. To her left...
She dragged her eyes away and forced herself to stare straight ahead. The press box was packed and the courtroom gallery was overflowing with ponies, and when they caught sight of her a low hum of anticipation broke out. Trying to ignore the weight of a hundred eyes on her back, she concentrated on taking her place in the dock, the friendly custody officer by her side. She took a deep, steadying breath and saw Pro Bono give her a reassuring grin from the nearby defence table. One eye winked at her from behind a pink lens but the unfamiliar, serious-eyed Pegasus pony at her side settled for a nod. On the other side of the jury box, Cui Bono's stern, impassive glare eyed her from the prosecutor's box.
A black-robed official in front of the judge rose to his hooves and adjusted his spectacles. “The matter before the Court is Crown v. Applejack ,” he announced in a booming voice, the suddenness of which almost made her shy away. “Who represents the defendant?”
Pro Bono rose to her hooves. “Honourable Members of the Court, my name is Pro Bono, of Graze Inn. I have the honour to argue on behalf of the defendant.”
“And who prosecutes this case?”
It was Cui Bono's turn to rise. “Honourable Members of the Court, my name is Cui Bono, Senior Counsel of the Chamber of Justice. I have the honour to bring this case on behalf of Their Highnesses.”
There was a brief silence, broken only by the quiet clatter of the stenographer. She glanced up at the gallery and saw Big Mac and Applebloom looking down, surrounded by her friends. Twilight had insisted on paying for them all to attend, put them up in some fancy hotel downtown. Of course, she was a wealthy mare now, with that payout from The Fox, but it still must have cost her a fortune.
“Would the defendant please state her name and address?”
Holy horse-hockey, that means me! Even though she had been told what was expected of her, the sudden snap back to the present and a rush of adrenaline made her stutter. “A-applejack. From Sweet Apple Acres, in Ponyville.”
“Clerk of the Court, read the charge,” instructed the judge in a mild voice.
The same official as before carefully slid some paper aside on his desk before speaking. “Applejack, you are charged with one count of Inflicting Grievous Bodily Harm upon Silver Hammerbuck Braise at his place of residence in Ponyville. How do you plead – Guilty, or Not Guilty?”
This was it. Her throat tensed and her tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth. Swallowing hard, she managed to force the words out with lungs which suddenly seemed empty.
“Guilty.”
One word. A simple word, but at once an eager buzz of voices swept around the Court. The judge contented herself with a peeved look for a moment, and the noise tapered off sharply to silence.
The judge continued, “The Prosecution is invited to present an overview of its case.”
“We have prepared a written Summary of Facts, Your Honour,” said Cui Bono as her assistant passed a folder to the court usher.
The judge's eyebrows rose. “Indeed? And has the Defence had access to this submission?”
“Yes, Your Honour. The Defence does not dispute the Prosecution's case, however we beg leave to submit a written plea of mitigation.”
This time the muttering in the gallery was much louder, and the ponies in the press box were began talking urgently amongst themselves. The judge was forced to beat her hoof on her sharply on her desk and call for order before the outburst was quelled.
The judge gave Pro Bono a long, long look before nodding. “It seems to me that the Prosecution and Defence are uncommonly well-coordinated. Very uncommonly well-coordinated. Very well, I will accept written submissions at the peril of this Court becoming little more than a book club. The defendant is remanded on bail until called for sentencing. This Court is adjourned.”
At the final crack of the judge's hoof, the Clerk of the Court immediately called out, “All rise!” and there was a general scramble for everypony to take their hooves as the judge swept out. The closing of the door to the judge's chambers, however, was like the starting gun for the Derby amongst the ponies in the press box, who bolted as one for the door.
“This way, Miss.”
Half-heartedly returning her friends' waves from the gallery, she turned and followed the custody officer blindly out of the dock, her head down. Pro Bono intercepted her in the little waiting room that she had found herself in not half an hour before. Was it really so quick? In and out and over with, like drawin' a tooth.”
Pro Bono was looking decidedly worried, her usually carefree expression pinched and tense, but she gave Applejack a flicker of a smile anyway. “Well done. You got through it.”
Applejack let out a tiny, jittery laugh. “It ain't like I had much choice, sugar cube!” Her look sobered. “Y'all look worried.”
“Well, there's just sentencing to go, but...”
“Come on, now, spit it out and stop dallyin',” Applejack demanded, a cold feeling sliding into her stomach.
“I didn't like that little crack the judge made at the end.” She waved a hoof dismissively. “Don't worry about it, it's probably just me being over-sensitive. She has a reputation of being a bit of a hard-flank.”
“Y'all know how long she'll take?”
“A few days, maybe a week at the outside.”
“Miss?” The custody officer broke in pointedly.
Pro Bono sighed. “Like I said, you've got half the battle out of the way. Go on, I'll be waiting once you get through processing and then I'll take you to the hotel. Twilight's got a room fixed up for you at the Mareiott. All we can do now is wait.”
=====// \=====
It was strange, but the rituals of Court the second time around didn't bother her. In fact, very little had bothered her since standing up and admitting her guilt. It was true. It was honest . The prospect of the sentence paled against the sheer relief of admitting publicly that she'd done wrong. Sure, her friends rallied around, for all that they didn't seem to know how to treat her or what to say, but the four days after the trial were the first time that she had felt at ease and slept properly in months. The prospect of punishment, much like the prospect of hard work, didn't faze her.
At length, the judge came to the point. “Applejack, you have pleaded guilty to one charge of Inflicting Grievous Bodily Harm. I have read the Summary of Facts presented by the prosecution, and also the mitigation presented by your defence. Have you anything you wish to say before I pass sentence?”
A thousand thoughts rushed into her mind at once. She had composed long speeches of regret in her head lying awake in bed late at night before the trial. Apologies and explanations and trying to articulate her remorse. Yet she looked around the courtroom, packed once again with strangers and the press, and she nearly smiled. They were all there, perched breathlessly on the edges of their seats, waiting for her to spill the beans, maybe break down, give them the story that would make them rich. Vultures . Oh yes, she'd seen the papers over the last few days, filled with bile and spite because the gory details weren't aired for them to pick over. Dark accusations of meddling from the Palace. Well, they could go hang. The ponies that mattered – Summer Clip, Silver's parents, Silver himself – where nowhere to be seen, and of the rest, her friends already knew, anyhow.
“No, Your Honour.”
A loud hum of disappointment broke out from the public galleries, the press ponies scowling as their pencils and quills flew feverishly over their notebooks. Huh. I was right.
The judge's hoof thumped angrily on her desk. “Order! Order, I say, or I shall clear the Court!”
The disturbance died sullenly away, and the judge scowled at her. Ain't my fault they're getting rowdy, so don't be looking at me that way!
“Mr. Braise was a victim in many ways throughout this case. Firstly, as the subject of rumour and intimidation. Secondly, a victim at your hooves. Thirdly, the victim of a bloody and grisly killing. Finally – and perhaps most of all – a victim of the most unfortunate coincidence of circumstances which lead you, a pony who is known to have stood beside him during months of innuendo and accusations and even become a close friend, to inflict such serious injuries upon him.
“Despite your early guilty plea, your lack of previous convictions, and the genuine remorse you have shown, this falls into the most serious category of offending and I must warn you that a custodial sentence is inevitable.
“I acknowledge that you may have acted on impulse and when genuinely holding grave fears for your sister's safety, however that does not excuse your attack upon him when he was clearly and obviously already injured and posing no threat to anypony. A moment's cursory examination would have revealed that he was the innocent victim – that word again – of a workplace accident. Instead you struck him with such force as to break bones. Not in fear of your life, or to defend others, but in what you candidly admit was a rage. You then callously turned your back and left him grievously wounded on the floor, begging for help.
“The tragedy of this situation is that when you returned home and found your sister safe, the ponies you sent to Mr. Braise's aid arrived only to find that he had been brutally killed by an unknown creature from the Everfree Forest.”
The judge paused, letting a yawning silence descend over the Court. Not a cough or shuffle came from from the galleries, just the weight of hundreds of enraptured eyes. Heck, I don't even know if they're breathing up there. Go on, say it! Say it! Y'all think I ain't thought it a thousand times myself? Stop makin' this into a show, darn it!
“How or why Mr. Braise was unfortunate enough to attract this creature's attention we cannot speculate. Perhaps simply by chance, or perhaps it was drawn by the smell of blood from his injuries. While you could have had no way of knowing that this would occur, what we can say without doubt is that the injuries he suffered at your hooves, Miss Applejack, would have rendered him totally defenceless. Unable even to flee.
“Having established the facts of this case the Prosecution states that it considered carefully the charge of Gross Negligence Ponyslaughter, and I agree that this case falls short in the essential elements. The requirements of a charge of Inflicting Grievous Bodily Harm, however, appear amply fulfilled and it is on this charge that you are convicted.
"Taking all these factors into account, Applejack, you are hereby sentenced to a period of five years' imprisonment.”
An immediate hubbub broke out in the galleries, and she heard a high-pitched cry, of “No! ”.
She closed her eyes. Applebloom. Sorry, sweetheart . She nearly missed the final thump of the judge's hoof on the block.
“Take her down.”
=====// \=====
Pro Bono burst in on her while she waited to be taken back to the cells, looking pale and wide-eyed. Her usual dreamy manner was gone completely.
“I've started the papers to lodge an appeal. That sentence is outrageous!” she blurted abruptly. The startled guard held out a hoof and tried to shepherd her back out again, but Pro wasn't having it.
Applejack sighed. “Don't bother.”
“It's completely outside the sentencing guidelines! Hard-flank or not, it shouldn't be more than three, no way! It looks like she's worried about all that garbage in the papers about the Princesses getting you an easy ride. Well-”
“Pro, I said don't bother, all right? Five years? Well, there ya go.”
The guard, who had been trying to get a word in edgeways since the lawyer burst in on them, said loudly, “Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.”
“But...,” Pro Bono let out a frustrated snort. “It's not justice if you get longer than others for the same offence, just because she wants to look good.”
“Look, I'm grateful for all that you've done, but it's over now. I gotta face the music, and if that means five years, well, so be it.”
“Ma'am?”
Pro Bono turned reluctantly to go but stopped, facing the door. “It won't bring him back, you know.”
Applejack swallowed hard. “I know. I wish it would.”
“Then why?”
“I committed a crime, I can't complain when I get punished. One year, three years, five years, whatever. I can live with that. What I can't live with is knowing what I did to a pony I called my friend. Guess now I've got a while to figure out how.”
=====// \=====
The wind was brisk enough to make her eyes water slightly even as it filled her nostrils with the unfamiliar scent of salt and the shore. It sure made a welcome change from the last two days she'd spent cooped up in a carriage at the back of a long train, trying not to inhale too deeply the stink of smoke from the engine, a horde of unwashed ponies, and temperamental latrines.
A light swat on her flank jolted her back to reality as an impatient guard muttered, “Come on, come on, stop daydreaming.” The suddenness made her jerk forward and she nearly tripped. The thick hobbles joined with short lengths of chain that weighed down her legs would take quite some getting used to – especially for her, a pony used to running freely most days. Her hooves, too, felt strange. Her shoes had been the first thing they had taken away from her, and she could barely remember a time that she'd run about unshod.
Her head rope was clipped to a long trace running up the middle of the crumbling concrete pier while the guards made a count of the prisoners. One by one, the ponies at the front of the queue were being led down a ramp onto a battered-looking boat bobbing erratically at the end of the jetty, a huge thing with peeling white paint and the logo of the Equestrian Prison Service on the side. She shuffled forward when everypony else moved, trying to look beyond the high wire fences to see more of the wide blue-green expanse of the ocean. It moved of its own accord, something that weren't natural in her opinion, and she had to smother a tiny frisson of fear. She was an Earth pony, not a Seapony!
Eventually it was her turn, and she was led down a steep gangplank into the maze of pens which made up the deck. She didn't get much of a chance to see anything, but as soon as her hoof touched the steel plates of the deck she could feel the vibrations of the engine which yammered away steadily in the depths of the boat. She also felt a wave of disorientation which took her a moment to recognise. The land. The earth. It's gone! She panted, suddenly breathless, and tried to stop herself from panicking. It stood to reason; she was no longer on the earth, so she could no longer feel the intertwining of it with her magic. It stood to reason and terrified her all at once.
It wasn't so bad while they were still tied up alongside the jetty, but soon she heard the note of the engine pick up. The sudden, rolling lurch of the boat told her firstly that they were free of the jetty, and secondly that no Earth pony should ever put to sea. Her stomach somersaulted alarmingly with every heave of the confounded contraption and she found herself desperately thinking of land, of safety and the reassuringly-solid jetty that she had left behind.
She had stepped off the train in the port of San Franciscolt. Their stop was a singularly-ugly rail depot on a dedicated pier on the waterfront, ringed on all sides with high, barbed wire-topped fences. On the horizon through a blue haze, she had just been able to make out the far side of the great Horseshoe Bay. Their destination was someplace in between; a craggy island alone in the middle of the bay, its ugly grey buildings wreathed in wire and lookout points. Ol' Pro Bono had just about spit her bit when she found out Applejack's destination, but there was nothing the lawyer could do, and now she was in sight of her home for maybe the next five years.
Alcatrotz.
=====// \=====
=====// \=====
“Open 33A!”
A flat, harsh buzzer rang out and the heavy metal gate slid to one side, locking into place with a loud, metallic crash and letting her advance into the interlock.
“Close 33A – Open 33B!”
The guard at her side stamped a rear hoof and flicked her ears impatiently, waiting for the gates to rattle and slam into the correct configuration to let them pass. They took a flight of stairs down to a low, whitewashed corridor lit with harsh white lights that led through solid rock to the old mustering yard by the jetty. When they passed through yet another interlock she felt the sudden change that she always felt coming through here, as the hubbub of close-on 300 Earth ponies and Unicorns – no Pegasi, who were all held over at Foalsom, near Cloudsdale – all talking and singing and shouting and moving around was abruptly cut off like flicking a switch, and the noise she was so used to that she didn't even notice became an absence so big that she couldn't ignore it. Funny that.
The guard led her on again, keys jingling loudly at every pace, and she hurried to keep up with the tiny, mincing steps you always took when you were wearing hobbles. Any movement outside the cell block or the exercise yard always meant hobbles, and years of the monthly trips back to the mainland to see visitors meant that she was accustomed to them. Not long now. Not long now.
The guard stopped at a metal-bound door and thumped on it with her hoof. “Through here, Inmate. They'll return your effects and then I'll take you down to the boat, and you're done here.”
“Thanks, Jingles. You're all right, you know that?”
The first time that she'd met the guard, she'd assumed that the name was a nickname, or slang for the guards whose steps always jangled with the large keyrings they carried, but in fact it was her name. Jingle Belle. Jingles was one of the better guards, and most ponies tried to keep on her good side. Well, the ponies with sense in this place, anyway.
She got a tight, distant smile. “Yeah, well. You want to thank me? Don't let me see you in here again.”
“I sure ain't planning on it,” she chuckled nervously.
The door clanged open, and she stepped through to find herself at one end of a large room filled with shelves. Her side of the room was barely two ponies wide between the wall and a long counter. A mesh screen ran from the counter up to the ceiling, broken only by a window in the middle where a chubby old grey Unicorn stallion sat waiting, drumming his hooves idly on the scarred counter.
Jingles passed him a clipboard. “Hey, Slider.”
“Hey Jingles, lookin' good, kid,” the stallion replied in a thick New Yoke accent. He scribbled messily on the clipboard before peering closely at it. “Inmate 1047? Ya, I got dis somewhere.”
He slid off his stool and slouched away into the maze of shelves which rose to the ceiling, piled high with anonymous cardboard boxes. She tried not to let her impatience show as the minutes ticked by. Patience was something she'd had a lot of practice with over the last few years, so why was it so hard now?
The old stallion wheezed his way back to the counter again, a box clutched in his magic. “Ya, here we go. Lessee... 1047. Ah, okay.
“One hat. Stetson. Worn.
“Saddlebags. One pair. Apple clasps.”
He droned on, listing the few items that she'd brought with her so long ago and the things that she'd acquired during her time on the Rock. Letters, mostly. Her family wrote every week, her friends most weeks, too. It was the thing she'd come to treasure more than anything else, in here.
Finally, the stallion tipped the box over and shook out the last four items. “Shoes. Iron. Four. You want I should get Lump Hammer down here? He'll fix 'em up on ya. Might take a while, though.”
She looked down at her heavily-chipped, flaking hooves and bit her lip. Shoes were dangerous things, sure enough. Dangerous in their own right as well as being something an enterprising inmate could turn into a tool or a weapon, but the lack of them on the concrete floors played havoc on the inmates' hooves. Cellblock Hoof, they called it. It got bad enough on some of the older inmates that the hooves split right up to the frog, could even cripple them if they weren't careful. Maybe she'd wait. Maybe, in a few days, she'd be able to go to the spa with her friends. She used to laugh at them, getting all preened and primped-up like, but a hooficure sounded like heaven right about now. And the company would be indescribable.
“No thanks. I'll take 'em with me,” she mumbled hoarsely.
“Ah, okay.” The stallion dumped the pile of belongings back into the box and pushed it across the counter to her. As she hoisted it onto her back he huffed and added, “Stay outta trouble, kid.”
“I'll do my best.”
“Huh, dat's what they always say,” he muttered, unimpressed.
They left via the door they had come in and followed the corridor to its end where a final, massive gate stood. The Portcullis, they called it, made of magically-grounded iron bars as thick as her hoof. Despite the heavily-pitted surface of flaking, dark red-orange accretions from years of exposure to the elements, they were even stronger than the rock they were mounted in. No inmate had ever passed the Portcullis without a key, try as they might with magic or tools.
Jingles produced such a key and unlocked the wicket gate. The old mustering yard was deserted apart from the occasional seagull, a flat, featureless square of crumbling concrete penned in by high wire-mesh fences that permanently sagged outwards around the posts through the constant force of the easterly wind. That wind was blowing now, scouring around the tall, lighthouse-capped headland away to the right and driving the swell into San Franciscolt. Right where I'll be. Just a little longer.
Her nostrils flared, sucking in the salt-laden air as she gazed hungrily at the city, picking out the familiar landmarks that tantalised the inmates with their lure of freedom and normality. A few had tried to escape over the years – none had ever made it. The current would sweep away any Earth pony who tried to swim for it, and the channel was too wide for anypony excepting the Princesses to teleport. Well, the Princesses and Twilight Sparkle. Ponies still talked about the time Twilight blinked into existence on the loading dock and walked up to a speechless guard to nervously announce, “I'm here to see Applejack. Terribly sorry, but I think I must have missed the boat.”
The thought of the boat jogged her mind, and she said aloud, “I don’t see the boat anywhere?”
Jingles shrugged. “You won’t, not for another hour or so. You’re taking the mail packet; they don’t need the steamer for you on your own.”
“An hour?!” Applejack blurted before she could stop herself.
Jingles raised an eyebrow. “What – you’d rather have been late? C'mon over here, maybe we can get out of this darn wind.”
Jingles let them both through the interlock onto the jetty, which bore a long, low shed and ended with a loading crane. Applejack huddled up beside the building and after a few minutes of boredom, her mind began to wander.
It was hard to believe that she was leaving all this behind. She was so locked into the daily cycle that the thought of breaking that cycle actually scared her a bit. She smiled to herself, thinking back to her first day on the island. They had paired her up with a ‘Trusty’ named Ember, a skinny, pale-yellow Unicorn with sunken, furtive, addict’s eyes, to show her the ropes. There was no sign of her cellmate so after a brief rundown of the routine in the mares’ wing she found herself in the dining hall being introduced to the delights of Alcatrotz’ catering. They had just taken a seat at one of the long rows of benches, Ember muttering sullenly about bran and oats again, when she felt a presence at her shoulder and looked up to see a muscular Unicorn sneering down at her.
“You’re in my spot.”
“N-now, Donna-” Ember began, only to shut up with a tiny squeak when the other mare turned her glare on her. Applejack looked at her for a moment, taking in the scars on mare’s face and the thick metal sleeve over her horn, and decided not to make trouble. Wordlessly, she shoved her tray half-a-dozen places down the table and went to join it. Just as she was taking a seat, she heard the same pony’s voice.
“What do you know? That one’s mine as well.”
There were a few snickers from around her, and she noticed that Ember had somehow managed to vanish. Her fraying nerves put her in no mood for games.
“Oh, come on! What are you, six?” she had burst out in exasperation. “Y’all want to pick a fight? Well, that’s just dandy – go do it someplace else!”
The Unicorn to a quick pace towards her but was forestalled by the voice of a one of the guards. “That’s enough, Inmate. Now take a seat, and don’t let me catch you bothering this inmate again.”
The Unicorn glared at the guard, then turned and stomped off.
“Hey, thanks.”
The guard looked surprised for a moment. “Yeah, well. Stay away from that one; she’d bad news. Ember, get your skinny flank back here before I get your yard privileges revoked. Trusty, my flank!”
Ember slunk back over to the table, her ears flat back. “Yeah, thanks Deadlock. You really-”
“Oh, save it. I got my eye on you.”
Donna – or as she quickly learned from Ember's low, terrified patter, Belladonna Coeur le Pone – was one of a number of toughs who battled to be queen of the pile in Alcatrotz. Alliances between those ponies and their assorted hangers-on, who were either looking for thrills or protection or even just a sense of belonging, were tenuous and mostly short-lived, but Donna was easily the most formidable through force of sheer craziness until she ran into an Earth pony who was very short on talk and long on abrupt, whirlwind violence two years later. She hadn't seen it happen but she'd seen the blood. They'd all seen the blood, and she wasn't the only pony to have nightmares in the following weeks.
In the mean time Applejack trod a very careful path, keeping her head down and avoiding all of the various factions as much as possible while she settled in. She was aided in this by her cellmate, Barley Twist, a broad-hipped, middle-aged, dark-blue Earth pony who seemed to regard the new inmate's naivety with a mixture of bewilderment and cynical amusement.
She came to theorise that there were three general types of prisoner in the maximum-security prison of Alcatrotz. Firstly were the bullies. Loud and brash, they took glee in intimidation and threats, and had a tendency to start fights just for the rush, or even for something to do. Next were the victims; the ponies broken by life to varying degrees. They were the ones who crept around the shadows, who sidled up to the bullies looking for protection, driven by the herd instinct. They could also, on occasion, snap into frothing, howling violence over some trivial thing important only to themselves. The last and smallest group were the relatively normal, who found themselves inside through some sort of momentary aberration. They generally avoided the other two groups and got a fraction more leeway from the guards, who had keenly-developed sixth sense for trouble and tension between their charges.
She would have put her cellmate firmly into the last category during the three and a half years they spent together. Right up until last night, in fact, when a casual comment left her wondering just how naïve – and how lucky – she had been. It had been nothing, really, just a promise to send a Hearth's Warming card.
“Huh, maybe ya can drop by the farm sometime when ya get outta here.”
Barley had given her a long, long look. “You never asked me what I was in for, did you?” she asked eventually.
Applejack had frowned. “Nope. One of the first things they told me; never ask. If somepony wants ya to know, they'll tell ya.”
Barley had laughed humourlessly. “True enough. Well, they won't ever be letting me out. You wanna know why?”
Her smile had become an ugly thing, but Applejack couldn't resist nodding.
“I killed somepony in Reino.”
“What?! "
“Ha! I knew you wouldn't believe me. You're still greener 'n grass!. Wasn't worth it, 'cause they threw me in here, but what can you do, right?”
“But why? I mean, it musta been some sort o' accident, right?”
Barley shrugged. “He annoyed me.”
It wasn't the words that shocked her, it was the utter indifference in Barley' voice – and the cold, pitiless gleam in her eyes.
“I've done a fifteen-stretch so far. The Parole Board ain't interested in me 'less I 'show some remorse', give 'em the usual sob-stories. Well, let me tell you – I beat that worthless son-of-a-mule's head in with my bare hooves, and I sleep just fine at night. Just fine.”
Back in the present, she felt a shiver which had nothing to do with the biting wind. Even now, part of her wanted to believe it was all a lie, the sort of game that inmates tended to play for many reasons, but she knew the ring of honesty when she heard it. Barley hadn't been lying, but was it the whole truth? She mulled the question over in her mind for a while, before the rasp of a hoof on concrete gave her an idea.
“Hey Jingles – can I ask you a question?”
Leaning against the shed at the landward end and idly kicking fragments of grit into the sea, the guard looked over at her warily. “Go on.”
“What's Barley Twist in for?”
Jingles' brows narrowed further. “Your cellmate? Huh, what did she tell you?”
“She said she killed somepony.”
“Really? That's new. Usually it changes on a weekly basis. I guess she musta liked you.”
She felt a tiny seed of hope. “So she didn't?”
“Oh, she did, all right.”
With that, Jingles turned her head to look back out to sea. After a minute, Applejack cracked.
“Come on, Jingles, don't leave a gal hanging like this!”
The guard's face twitched in annoyance. “You don't get it, do you? You never have. All right then, sure. Your good buddy Barley Twist killed somepony, all right. She made an excuse to her work colleagues one afternoon, walked back to the place she was staying, and beat the tar out of her landlady's father. A harmless old coot who could barely get out of his wheelchair. When the cops turned up, she was standing in the kitchen covered in blood and drinking carrot juice from a carton – and all she said was, 'What took you so long?'”
Applejack simply stared at her, her jaw hanging slack. Jingles smirked and turned away. After a moment, Applejack found her voice.
“An' nopony thought to warn me?! ”
“You're on Alcatrotz – who did you think you'd be bunking with, Marey Poppins?” Jingles let her splutter incoherently for a moment, then continued. “You were probably safer with her than anypony else, to be honest. She's got a lot of previous but it was all violence against stallions. And seeing as you and all her other cellmates have come out in one piece, I'd say we were right.”
Jingles squinted over towards San Franciscolt. “Huh, that looks like the boat. Either way, ain't your problem no more. I reckon the best thing you could do once you get off this rock is to forget all about it. Go back to Hicksville and stick to saving the world with your buddies.”
Applejack's head reeled with protests and rebuttals, but the guard's words struck a chord with her hard-learned sense of self-preservation and the incoherent mass of words died in her mouth. Don't make trouble for yourself! Another hour and you'll be off this rock.
She forced herself to turn away and instead watched the mail packet's tortuously-slow approach, circled by hopeful seagulls whose shrill cries carried clearly to her and were answered by the island's own birds. Why do those things come here? They could go anywhere – anywhere – yet this place draws then back. Is it the island? Is that what will happen to me?
Another chill danced down the nape of her neck. I ain't ever comin' back here! I'll make sure of it! she told herself fiercely, but she couldn't help the traitorous counterpoint that wormed into her head despite her vehemence. This place changes ponies. It must do. Just how much has it changed me?
That disturbing thought left her staring pensively out across the heaving water, but the shimmering horizon brought her no answers. She was only dragged from her melancholy by a mare's loud voice hailing the island, and she looked up to see the mail packet carefully nosing its way alongside the jetty. Jingles caught a line thrown by a stallion on the deck and hooked its looped end over a thick iron bollard before repeating the trick at the back of the boat. It wasn't clear if it was wind or tide or waves or even the brawny deckhoofs, but in short order the weathered little boat was bowsed up tight alongside the jetty and a gangplank slung across.
“Mail for ye,” grunted a squint-eyed green unicorn as she stepped ashore. “This the inmate for release?”
“That's her.”
Applejack tuned out the inevitable paperwork as she was signed over like one of the letters in the heavy canvas bag which one of the deckhoofs was hoisting aboard using the jetty crane. The task was completed remarkably swiftly and after exchanging it for one from the bowels of the boat, the deckhoof was trotting back past her onto the boat again when she heard Jingles say, “No offence, but I hope I never see you back here again. Stay outta trouble, Applejack.”
Almost... almost. “Thanks, Jingles.”
She wobbled her way down the tiny gangplank, trying not to think of what might happen if she fell between the lurching boat and the concrete jetty, and braced herself against the now-familiar sickening disorientation as the boat was freed to make its return journey. One of the deckhoofs was watching her with amusement.
“Remember; throw up to leeward, and try not to fall in, 'less you're part Seapony, cause them hobbles are heavy and it ain't easy to turn this tub around.”
“Gee, thanks a bunch,” Applejack groaned, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in her stomach that his words had set off.
She had made this trip many times before, as once a month the prisoners who had visitors – and who hadn't lost their privileges through some misdemeanour – were shuttled back to the mainland in groups to meet their anxious friends or relatives in a heavily- secured bunker on dockside. Being so far from Ponyville it had been almost impossible for her family to get away from the farm to visit her, but her friends had done their best. Rarity and Fluttershy had made it quarterly and written weekly, although Pinkie Pie's exuberance had managed to get the party pony banned after her first visit had nearly caused a riot. Rainbow Dash was her most regular visitor; no matter that it was a little easier for her to make the trip, having wings, she had ignored distance, money, and the demands of her increasingly-busy and high-profile life to ensure that her best friend wasn't left hanging. Applejack wondered if she'd ever be able to tell her just how much she'd come to treasure that absolute, unflinching loyalty.
After her infamous first visit, Twilight had made it only very intermittently since. Rarity's letters confided that their purple friend had become rather erratic in her habits, spending long periods in Canterlot or shut away in her library interspersed with abrupt disappearances which resulted in her dejected reappearance a week or more later. All enquiries had been gently rebuffed with a promise to explain 'later' – and both Rarity and Applejack drew the same conclusions about their friend's unexplained excursions.
The journey this time seemed utterly interminable, and she found her patience severely tested before she was led up onto solid land again where she was able mutter a brief, heart-felt vow never to set hoof on such a contraption ever again. That patience was strained even further by the agonisingly slow progress through the processing facility where she was identified, examined, and reminded at length about the conditions of her parole, restrictions on travel, and all the other minutiae which served only to delay her as much as possible. The only thing that kept her temper in check was the terrifying fear that any protest or complaint could land her back on that accursed rock again. Finally – finally – after one last admonishment to observe all the conditions of her parole, she was allowed to sling her saddlebags over her back, pull her old hat down over her ears, and was passed a bag containing a hundred bits and a train ticket to Ponyville. The rasping thump of the stamper as it marked “Released” across her file was one of the sweetest sounds she'd ever heard.
She stepped gingerly through a heavy iron door and passed through one final checkpoint in the high, barbed wire-topped fences. As the gate clattered shut behind her, she closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath full of the smells of smoke, and toasted barley from the cereal factory nearby, and bread from a bakery, and a thousand others all commingling, the scents she had caught once or twice on the island when the wind was in the right quarter. It had been enough to make some of the old timers cry, and she knew why. It was the smell of freedom.
To her left lay the jetty bearing the rail depot on which she had arrived three and a half years earlier. To her right lay the glittering downtown San Franciscolt waterfront. And in front of her...
In front of her was a small cluster of ponies at the jetty's end. The massive red stallion she'd know anywhere, his normally-placid face split with a wide grin. The filly – halfway to becoming a mare, now, a right pretty one if the photos did her any justice – all long, awkward legs and flowing red hair. Time hadn't been kind to the wizened green mare but she was there all the same – and was that who she thought it was, pushing the wheelchair?
She set off towards them with an eager shuffle, but the awkward, jolting impact of the hobbles on her legs didn't come. She was free. She was free . Her strides lengthened into a full, joyous gallop, tears streaming back from her eyes as she raced towards freedom and her beloved family.
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He slid the heavy saddlebags off his aching back beside the low verandah of the cabin, his panting breaths lost in the mellifluous, many-voiced evening chorus that rang down from the trees while his blood pounded distantly in his ears. Stumbling over to the little brook that ran past the cabin and into the great, still lake, he lowered his muzzle and drank deeply before returning to flop down on his belly next to his saddlebags and catch his breath.
Celestia, I'm getting old.
It was a long way from Three Valley Junction, the tiny speck of a town clinging on by the side of the Mane Trunk Railway where it looped up out of Vanhoover to the pass at the northern end of the Unicorn Ranges. It used to take him two hours when he first came here on paths little better than tracks through the tall spruce forest, but today it was closer to three – and that was with the paths greatly improved. Still, in contrast to his flat in bustling, noisy Vanhoover, it was a slice of paradise that made the effort more than worthwhile.
As soon as he'd laid eyes on this spot all those years ago, the little south-facing clearing on the lakefront with the stream tumbling down the basaltic rocks to one side, he'd fallen instantly and irretrievably in love with it. The price he had paid for his ten acres of pristine forest was cheap back then – it was absolutely peanuts now – and had been amply repaid by years of family holidays under canvas on the deep, mossy grass, hiking in the woods, swimming in the lake, and laughing and singing around a campfire on the shallow, pebbly beach trying to eat badly-charred food. His lips twisted in a smile. Other things, too, when he and Rose had come here alone after the kids had left home and the nights were filled with the songs of the crickets and the sigh of the wind in the branches. That was before the hardness started in her udder, though, the dense little ball that grew and grew until it drained her body of health and vitality and finally even life itself.
It had taken the cancer only three months to consume the formerly-vivacious mare and love of his life. Three months of endless hospital visits and helpless rage at his impotence to do more than sit there and hold her hoof while the doctors cut tissue away and poured poisons into her failing body, mouthing encouraging words which neither of them believed. More than once, he'd had to check the names on the ends of the beds to reassure himself that the ghastly, stick-thin creature with hair coming out in clumps was really her. The end should have been a relief in some ways, but the next six months became a different sort of hell, trying to adjust to the gaping void that she left in his life. After forty years, their lives had become so intertwined that he found himself doing things, saying things, to the same cues as always, but now those automatic little rituals were left incomplete, unfulfilled, tainted by a sense of utter wrongness because she wasn't there. His mood was not helped by the darkness of the winter which bookended his dreary days in the office, going through the motions until he could finally retire, and in many ways it mirrored the symbolic, crushing bleakness in his soul. Of course, the kids had tried their best to help him, but they had their own families to attend to now.
It had been this place which had drawn him out of himself again. Drawn back by something he couldn't quite explain, maybe a need to touch a place where he and Rose had shared so much, he had set off far too early in the spring when snow still capped the surrounding peaks and the brook brimmed full from the burgeoning meltwater. Standing on this spot and looking around, he felt a sense of belonging, a sense of peace that he hadn't felt for such a long time, and he knew that, in time, he could be happy here again.
That seed of an idea had quickly germinated, and, after arranging for a delivery of timber and supplies from the far end of the lake to be brought up by boat, he had collected his gold watch and pension from the office, gathered up some rudimentary tools, and set to work building the cabin which now sat behind him. The physical labour had been a tremendous strain for his unaccustomed, office-weakened limbs, but he was ridiculously proud of the snug little hideaway when it was completed. The kids had been relieved to see him when he finally went back to the city nearly six weeks later, but some jealous instinct made him keep the secret of the cabin to himself, and they had been too grateful for his reappearance, thinner, fitter, and more at peace, to enquire too closely.
With a loud sigh, he levered himself up onto his hooves, cracking his fetlocks loudly, and went to see how the cabin had survived the winter. Hooking back the shutters to admit the evening light that was glowing golden across the lake, he hauled his week's supplies inside and started chasing out the spiders and cleaning the place up.
An hour's work had the worst of it done, and after he'd slung his bedroll over the slatted frame in the corner there was time to cook a simple meal on the stone hearth and take it down to beach, where he could read while eating. He'd also re-discovered the case of elderberry gin that he'd made a couple of years ago, and some cautious sampling showed that it was still good.
At length the final vestiges of the sunset faded until his nose was practically pressed against the page. The dim glow of the emerging stars and half-crescent moon was no substitute for the sun's light and the gin had been tested to destruction so, with a yawn, he slid a twig into his book as a marker and gathered up the detritus of his evening to take back inside.
Fumbling around in the kitchen area, he found the stub of a candle still in the old glass lamp and rummaged in his saddlebags for a dry book of matches. Fiddling one out of the box, he grasped it in his teeth and dragged it sharply over the side of the box. There was the sharp hiss and flare of ignition and the familiar, sulphurous scent and heat in his nostrils as he carefully applied the flame to the wick. After a moment it caught and the light began to grow and strengthen, and so he dropped the match into the hearth where it could burn out safely and carefully hoisted the lamp up into the rafters where its flickering light could reach the whole room.
Snorting to clear his nostrils, he ambled outside again and down to the waterfront, where he closed his eyes and took deep, soothing breaths of the fresh, crisp air. The night was quiet, just the whisper of a gentle breeze through the treetops that didn't make it down to ground level and the quiet lapping of the water. It was a bit early for insects, which meant no crickets – but it also meant no mosquitoes, either. He would have expected the owls to be hunting, though-
An abrupt impact on his hindquarters lifted him off his hooves, pitching him onto his shoulder and knocking the breath out of him, but almost immediately the sudden, terrible pain in his belly drove the shocked incomprehension out of his mind. His eyes flew open and his hooves thrashed desperately, churning at the little pebbles, but all he could see was darkness, not even the stars or moon or the light of the lamp in the cabin. Sledgehammer blows rained down on his ribs with sickening crunches and he threw his head back, desperate to scream, but his winded and abused body could only make a sort of agonised hiss which drew a stunning cuff across his cheek. No, no, no, stop, make it stop, oh Celestia, save me-
But the only answer to his desperate prayers was a further sharp twist to the fires of agony in his belly. His head reeling and woozy, realisation dawned as he felt an awful pressure around his throat, and suddenly the pain was numbed as if by a switch. Through rapidly-greying vision, he saw the little pebbles of the beach slide past the end of his nose, and almost smiled as the rasp of their motion came distantly to his ears, as if through a long tunnel.
I'm coming , he thought. Rosebud .
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Author's Note
This is an alternate ending to Good Intentions . If you haven't read that story before, please do - otherwise this isn't going to make much sense.
The point of divergence is around 80% of the way through Chapter 9 of the original story. For the sake of simplicity, I have reproduced the whole of Chapter 9 here, so you should be able to read up to the end of Chapter 8 of the original and then carry straight on into the start of this one. The chapters in this story have been numbered accordingly (i.e. the next chapter from this is titled Chapter 9).
There are a couple of places where the text isn't suited to the FIMFiction format. In those cases, there will be a link out to a PDF. Look for >>>Click here<<< under the chapter heading or in the author's notes.
The story is complete at 13 chapters + epilogue, and around 93.5k words. If you want to hear more about how this story came about, check out the blog post .
Now - on with the show...
