A Stranger In This Land
By: Madame Hellspawn
Prologue
Winter's cold chill ran through Candlelight's body, forcing the young stallion to shiver, despite his cloak's attempt to keep him warm. Trees were stripped bare of all of their leaves and the once dirt ground was now layered underneath three feet of snow. He trudged on through, trying to gain as much ground as he could, the task almost being hampered by the bloodied body that he carried on his back. With each step, he cursed under his breath, hoping that he'd find some kind of civilization soon, or else he'd have to attend to his friend's wound's by himself. And she was already doing bad enough as it was, but if he were to heal her himself, she may lose more blood than she already has. At least if he managed to get to a town, the local priest or healer would have the power to repair her battered and bloodied form.
"Please," Candle pleaded to whoever he thought would hear him, be it a god or an actual pony. "I need a village of some kind. Please. Just get me there. I'll do the rest."
Another freezing breeze sent chills down Candle's spine, this time, it also disturbed the mare that rested on his back. She let out a weak groan, trying to maneuver herself to a better position, but with Candle climbing uphill, she'd fall right off, and she knew it. Both ponies knew that she'd have to bear the pain until Candle could rest her down on the ground.
Until then, she had to remain there, pain in her whole form and unable to even attempt to make it all subside. She was barely even able to formulate words, much less make a sound without the feeling of her throat about to burst. Candle made a vain attempt to better situate her, but she was still throbbing in most of her body. The blade wounds were poorly bandaged over, courtesy of Candle's inexperience in the medical fields of magic and alchemy.
"Damn those filthy savages," Candle silently spoke to himself. "What would they gain from raping and maiming a monk?"
The anger that consumed Candle's mental state would have been enough to burn a path through the snow. Unfortunately, as an apprentice, he wasn't sure how he'd be able to accomplish such a task, much like Blaze had managed to do at the Arcadian Arcane University. Candle had desperately wished that he had the ability to fuel his magic with but a single emotion. An instant feeling manifested into a form of magic. He could really use that power now. Being drained both mentally and physically didn't help him in his current situation.
Stumbling over, Candle dropped the mare on the ground, her scream of pain echoing through the dense forest and his cursing escalating in volume as well. Tears of defeat streamed down Candle's face as looked down at the mare's damaged form. She managed to muster the energy to clutch her stomach, trying to stop the bleeding that the bandage had barely absorbed. Candle tried to assist, but instead only had the mare swat his hoof out of the way. Blood stained her robes, which began to stain the colorless snow. She groaned with each move she made, making Candle shake and try to formulate how to heal her. He couldn't just sit there and watch her suffer anymore. She was on the verge of death, and so far away from the nearest settlement. Their supplies were scarce, with barely enough food for the both of them, and medical supplies that had all been used to poorly treat the mare's wounds.
Searching his nearby surroundings without leaving the mare's side, he tried to spot any herbs that could be mixed to make a simple healing salve. But to their disposition, there was nothing except for the trees and their branches scattered about. No ingredients to be harvested and mixed. Candle's breathing grew heavier, leaning closer to the mare to be sure if she still drew breath. Thankfully she did, but there was a minor disturbance in her breathing. Candle wished that he knew what he could do to help, but all he could do was just sit beside her and watch her squirm in an endless agony. The poison that had struck her from the marauder's blade was beginning to take effect.
Oozing from the wounds on her stomach, was a green fluid that mixed in with her crimson blood. Candle's mouth dropped to the snow covered ground, trying to make sense of all of what he was seeing. The deadly toxin was taking place of her own blood, and what would he have been able to do about it? There was no ingredients around to create a poison curing potion of any sorts, nor could he cast a spell that could delay the poison's deadly attack on her body, but would that lack of knowledge really cost him his friend's life? Was there no way out of this?
Candle's ears twitched. Were those the sounds of other ponies approaching? He sat silently and listened closely.
Yes! Candle thought. Arcadia herself has heard my prayers!
But then another darker thought had corrupted the one that had initially brought him hope. Quickly, Candle drew his blade, his heart pounding. The snow around him crunched underneath the steps of something, but what it was remained a mystery. Hostile or not, Candle stood over the battered mare, blade in his arcane grip and spell awaiting it's release from his horn. The steps came closer, louder as they came, Candle realized that it was more than one being in the forest with him. There had to have been. With the amount of steps that came, there had to be multiple ponies or worse wandering in Candle's area.
A hooded form climbed up the hill, Candle almost caught off guard. They were Templars. His hopes had managed to return, but at the same time, he was still unsure whether or not he should trust the Templars. They wielded blades and armor underneath their cloaks, and Candle was unsure if they really were Templars or not. He'd be ready to battle with them should that option come.
Only two came to his aid, their hoods hiding their faces, though Candle could very easily feel their accusing glares as they approached. No doubt they noticed that Candle bore no mark of any mage college nor did he bear a symbol of the Arcadian Empire. If they had any sense of sympathy, they'd look past that and assist his dying friend.
"Please," Candle spoke weakly. "You have to help her!"
The two Templars took a simple glance at the mare, and back at each other. Slowly, they turned their backs and began to return to their own group.
"What? No, wait! Where are you going?! She needs help!"
One looked back at Candle. "We would help. But we don't help those that aren't our kind."
"What?!" Candle's anger and desperation rose, disbelief in his voice. "Templars are one of Arcadia's main military forces! You defend ponies of every kind! You help ponies of every kind!"
"I'm afraid you don't understand me." He said. "I meant we don't help Zebras."
