Cygnus

CYGNUS

-Caravan-

-Part I-

I looked up to the cloud  of seagulls, churning and swelling, peppering the port of Windy Vale with a white noise just above the coming and going of the waves. I had never seen so many of them before; they frequented the farm in the spring and summer, but never in such huge numbers! They were very much like grains of sand, casting themselves into the sky to be tossed to and fro by the wind as they searched for food among the crowds. They rode upon the scent of saltwater, blowing in with the steamliners from the South Sea. I could see the massive ships as they gracefully slid through the sky, touching down on rails that guided them to the water and into the water of the port, obscured by the rows of buildings and ponies.

I leapt as I followed my new travelling companion, the well-dressed stallion who called himself Charger. As the hours passed following our escape from the Regulators in Barrel Arbor, I came to see him as equal parts drunk, sober, and talk. He strode on the fine line between inebriated and hung over, carrying himself smoothly, with little desire for anything other than making a lasting impression on other ponies, for better or for worse. More often than not, it was for worse.

I watched as he confidently waved his identification papers at the guard pony at the gate to the port, who, by the Angels' grace, was not a Regulator, but a member of the local militia. The guard took one look at the papers, when he suddenly snapped to attention and gave the drunk a crisp salute. Charger slapped the guard with a hoof and pulled him close, whispering something in the victim's ear. The guard gave him hurried nods, with a little hint of fear simmering just beneath his fur. My travelling partner threw the guard back into his booth and stormed through the gate, without so much as losing his beaver hat to a stray breeze. I followed, and looked at the guard as I passed. He gave me a demure glance, the same hint of fear lingering. I trotted a little faster, and caught up to the older stallion.

"What was that noise about?" I asked. Charger looked at me, scoffing sternly.

"Never you mind," he grumbled. "Militia ponies." I was beginning to sense he was suffering a mild hangover, as he seemed more fretted that when we met. I had yet to learn what had caused him to go from drunk to tactile when the Regulators confronted us, and for a moment, I wondered if it had all been a show.

Suddenly, however, he was back to his slick self as he approached a ticket booth. He was very good at switching between modes of behavior, and he was definitely putting on a show for a delectable green mare seated in the small office. He puffed his chest out, held his head high. Every step was a careful, precise dance that seemed to transform him from a recovering drunk to a business pony. She looked up at us, her eyes heavy with a long day's work. Charger put on a smile, one that showed just a hint of shiny white teeth. I ran my tongue over my own rough teeth, then grinned from ear to ear as we came to rest at the booth.

"'Scuse me, ma'am," the larger, cream colored stallion said smoothly. He looked down at me and stuffed a hoof in my mouth, closing it with disgust. "Me and this scamp here would like two tickets to Crown City!" I could see the mare smile at him.

"OK sir! Will those be first class," she looked down at me, her smile growing weaker, "or coach?"

"First class, please!" I chimed in, thumping my hooves on the counter. The thought of going to Crown City was enthralling, but flying there first class? Get outta town. She grimaced, brushing away some dirt that had skittered under the window. Charger laid a hoof on my shoulder and shoved me back against the wall, glaring at me.

"Now look here, bud," he sighed. "Now I'm not made of gold, y'see?" I nodded. "So unless you wanna pay out of your own pocket for those tickets," he jabbed a hoof at my saddlebags, "we'll be flyin' coach." He returned his attention to the mare at the booth, lifting his coin purse. I was more than capable of paying my own way, at least with the box I carried with me, but I was not opposed to a free ride either. Especially since he was so instant on paying. He tossed a couple of grimy gold coins under the booth grating. The mare scooped them up, grimaced, and deposited them in a small tray out of sight. She retrieved a pair of tickets and passed them to us.

"There you are, sir!" she feigned. "Enjoy your travels!"

"Thanks!" the stallion said. "You too!" I nudged him. Hard. "Ow!" he hissed. "What's your--" I nodded over at the mare, who looked as unimpressed as all get out. He looked over at her and flashed a weak smile.

"Next!" she scorned.

We wove our way through the crowds, which grew more dense as we struggled to reach the center of the port. I strained for a better view, looking high and low for the cause of the congestion. Our pace slowed as the crowds thickened, giving my travelling partner a chance to sneak a few drops from his flask. He stumbled back, then gave me a look of discouragement.

"Don't get any ideas, now."

"Like what?" I asked, guiding him in the general direction of the ships.

"I don't want you drinkin' my stuff," he glared at me. "You start drinkin', you better start drinkin' y'own." Clearly he had misplaced his trust in other ponies, leaving too little for myself. I could be trusted, or at least I felt I could be, and unlike him, I had no interest in drinking.

"I wasn't even-"

"Ah know what you're thinking!" he cut me off, slurring his speech. "You think ol' Charger's gonna go an' get us in another mess!" He wobbled as he walked alongside me, waving his arms. "Well yer wrong!" I stared at him, entirely unsure if he was drunk or just toying with me.

He gave me a quick wink.

"Relax, kid!" he spoke clearly. "I'm quite sober, I'll have you know."

"So why you keep actin' drunk?" I laughed.

"A pony's gotta keep changin' himself if he wanna slip by the Regulators," he hummed. "They can pick out a face in a crowd, an' that's fine, so long as the face they seein' ain't yours." He tossed me the ticket I was owed.

"So, will they chase us?"

"Absolutely," he smiled. "We ain't playin' by their rules. Anypony who wants to go against Her plan are branded anarchists, ruffians, rebels and renegades, and the Regulators," he pointed to a pair relaxing near a small bathhouse, "will do anythin' to put us back in our place." I thought about it for a moment. We were both breaking free of our niches (though I was unsure where Charger's place was in the Grand Plan), had already assaulted several Regulators in Barrel Arbor, and one militia pony within the port. "In all," he continued, "we looking at either being sent back home under watch by a couple of thems, or life imprisonment. Maybe worse."

The fact that we would be hunted made my stomach swim, yet, at the same time, we would be driven along by our enemies, closer to our goals, whatever Charger's were. Perhaps, were we to be captured, we would be presented to the Watchmare for judgement, and I could convince her then. Either way, our activities would not go unnoticed. I would need to prepare myself.

"So, what's the plan?" I asked as we meandered through the alleyways. Charger looked down at me.

"What, you mean our travel plans, or-"

"I mean, what do we do if they chase us?" I cut him off.

"Easy," he tucked the ticket into his pocket. "Run. Worked back in town, it'll work elsewhere. Regulators can't be everywhere at once. They have schedules, little routes they'll use, but they ain't exactly creative thinkers. They mostly count on everypony doing and believing what they're told, that way ponies like you and I stick out and are easier to catch - if we ain't careful. You gotta look like you're where you're s'posed to be, don't just say it. And if y'can spot a gap or a way out, you run your  little tail all the way to the next city if y'can help it."

"How about a fight?" I jumped. He came to a dead stop, his eyes shooting daggers at me.

"Don't." He said. "Sure they can't chase you forever, but if you let yourself down, even for a blink, they will tear you to shreds. An' even if you can hold out against a few of 'em, they'll call in a kill squad, and then you're in deep."

"Kill squad, huh?" I swallowed. "What do they do?" It was a stupid question, I know, but I couldn't help but ask.

"You really wanna find out?" I looked away. Of course I didn't! He took my silence for an answer. "Alright then. Follow me," he motioned towards the docks. "So the deal is, I'm getting you into Crown City, at the least. Ship's right up there."

He nodded, and I followed his gesture, past the infrastructure of the port, to see the hulk of an enormous zeppelin, like the ones I saw in The Watchmare's Aeronautics. It's long, canvas-colored cigar shape dwarfed the masses surrounding vessels, casting a giant shadow across Windy Vale. I could see many sails huddled beneath it, bunched up and stowed away on their masts, where the breeze could not carry them. I squinted, barely able to make out the shapes of dozens of ponies scuttling about the rigging, preparing the ship for its inevitable heaven-bound journey. Somewhere, beyond the rooftops, was the steamliner the zeppelin belonged to.

There was a time when I dreamt of the steamliners. During nights spent on the hillside, I could see their black silhouettes as they trekked across the night amid a sea of stars. The glow of their engines, the sparks of blue and green coldfire; the distant hum of their propellers would blend with the whisper of wind in the grass to paint the night a wonderful kind of symphony, one which I sometimes found myself falling asleep to.

It was those nights I was most grateful for. As I slept, I visited the steamliners in my precious dreams, riding along with the crew, singing songs of distant lands, of the Watchmare, of cities of gold and silver. I would fetch them drinks, tell them of my home life, and sit beside the captain, looking over maps as we chased the night.

Of course, I am a much older pony now, and I no longer have the same dreams I once did. But what a sight it was! The first time the glossy black hull of a great wooden steam barque loomed ahead, my eyes went wide at it's sheer size; it was nearly twice the length of any other steamships I'd ever caught a glimpse of. It was menacing, yet graceful. Even sitting in the water, arrested by mooring cables thick as my neck, and perfectly still, the ship seemed ready take off, ripping through anything that stood between it and the City. I could feel my little heart skip a beat at the thought that I was really going on an adventure!

"Well, there she is," Charger announced as we drew nearer. "The National Midnight Star is what they call her." At the time, I hadn't understood why he had referred to the ship as her. Even now the idea escapes me, but something about calling a ship her caught hold of me like quicksand. I stopped in my tracks.

"Her?"

"Well, you heard me." He started on his way to the ship. "Go ahead and stay here if you're having second thoughts."

"Hold on!" I shouted after him. The ponies surrounding us gave me confused glares as I chased after him. Almost immediately, I stumbled headlong into a well-dressed pegasi couple, a green stallion and a delightful yellow mare, who must have been having a wonderful time when we met. They carried with them sacks, whose contents, trinkets and what looked like souvenirs, spilled across the cobblestone of the thoroughfare, and I felt myself grow hot with embarrassment.

"I'm so sorry!" I said with a gasp, looking frantically over my shoulders, only to find that there were no Regulators to be seen. "So sorry," I sighed, returning to the ponies I'd so rudely collided with. "I was in a hurry." I stooped down to return one of the sacks to its owner, pausing when I saw the Barrel Arbor Antiques logo on the sack, looking worn out. I cautiously picked up the sack with my mouth and handed it off to the stallion who it belonged to.

"It's all right," he said, slinging the bag onto his back. "I'm certainly in no hurry." I gathered trinkets that had spilled and put them in their rightful sack. "Why would you be?" he asked as he watched.

"Why, why would I be what...?" I asked, trying to dodge the question.

"Why would you be in a hurry?" he pointedly reiterated. I looked up at him for a moment, then shivered. A thick bandanna had been wrapped around his head. On its own, that wouldn't have been too unsettling; What got me was the way he smiled at me the moment I saw it. It wasn't a happy, 'good afternoon' smile. It was dark, like the maw of a vast, soul-devouring cavern, or a great dragon, ready to end me if I so much as sneezed. It spread across his face, twisted and sinister. I felt my breath hitch. His coat went from a pleasant, cheery green color, to a sickening shade of gray. Blood dripped from his teeth and bandage.

"Funny, isn't it?" he said. I couldn't breathe, and I dared not move. He knew. "Funny that I could kill you right now." I felt a shadow pass over me. His smile grew wider, and he nodded upward. I didn't look away. "Don't you want to see where your fate lies?"

I said nothing.

"Go ahead, have a look!" He lifted the bandanna with a hoof, revealing two empty sockets for eyes. The fur and flesh of his face peeled away, exposing the ghostly white bone that lurked beneath, oozing with blood. I shivered at the sight, my heart stopping, before I was overtaken by a vision of my cutie mark, a red star in a circle, gracing a flowing banner. I smiled, just a little, thinking that fame and power lay ahead.

"I've seen enough!" I hiccuped, shaking as my heart started again.

"Oh, no!" his words slithered into my head, "you've only seen the beginning!"

How does he know what my cutie mark is? I wondered, too scared to ask. Most ponies kept theirs covered, and mine was hidden by my clothes and saddlebags. How had he seen it?

"I now many things, Broon," the... demon responded, as if he had heard my thoughts. "And I know you don't like to play by the rules, do you? You'd rather set your own path forward, is that right?" I felt myself shiver. "Your fate is right there" he put a hoof on my flank. "The Red Star! It symbolizes unity in all things- with the Watchmare, with the stars, the universe! With a cutie mark like that," he pulled away, "you should be a very obedient little pony! But you'd rather chase a hopeless dream all across Paradiso, wouldn't you?" he smiled again. "You're tempting fate, boy!" he cried. "You had better watch your back, and hope you don't slip up!"

I wanted to say something, anything, but I couldn't. He stole the breath from my lips with a kiss, stepped back, and placed the bandage back over his eye sockets. I felt hopeless, and a bit dirty, when the vision of the burning flag dissipated, replaced by the port of Windy Vale. The demon gave me one last, unsettling grin, and became the green pegasus pony I ran into.

"Hello?" he waved a hoof in my face. I inhaled sharply, shaking my head. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, yes I'm fine," I said, gathering the last of his belongings.

"Well, then why do you hurry?" he asked yet again.

I slowed, trying not to call attention to myself.

In a world of perfect order and timing, Aunt would say, nopony is ever in a hurry, and nopony is ever late.

For the sake of blending in, neither was I.

All as the Watchmare would have it.

"Just excited to travel," I said. "I should have been more careful."

"Quite alright," he nodded. "Just where are you bound, with such a quick step?"

All as the Watchmare would have it.

"Crown City," I nearly whispered. "I'm going to see the Angels." I looked around again, and spotted Charger looking over from the gangway, shaking his head.

“Ah! So you’ll be joining us on the caravan!” the stallion smiled. “We’re going to see the Angels as well.”

“We’re trying for a baby,” the mare interjected, “but it has proved difficult. We were hoping the Angels could-”

“Lace!” the stallion blushed. “Please, strangers don’t need to know these things!”

“Sorry!” she giggled. “I've been so excited, though! Tell me young one, have you ever been to Chronos Square?” I dug at the cobblestone with a hoof.

"No," I smirked. "But I'm excited to be going there!"

"Good," he said. "It's nice to see ponies still driven by faith." He set one pack down, then opened it where it rested. "Tell me," he said, rummaging his head through the bag. "Were you brought up to believe as well?" There was no question about that. I smiled wide.

"Until my final breath!" A breeze caught us by surprise, and a chill tickled up my spine. I thought briefly of the hellish demon-pony I'd seemingly spoken to only moments ago. One day that sentence would be true, wouldn't it?

"Excellent!" he said before emerging from the bag. He placed a trinket at my hooves and slung the sack over his shoulder. "This is for you!" I picked the small object up with my magic and looked it over. It was a gadget of gears and disks, spinning and whirling about each other.

"What is it?" I asked. "A watch of some sort?"

"I call it a liquid-crystal compass - it keeps you on the path to your dreams! Follow them with your heart, and you will never find yourself far from your home."

I looked it over, the clock face suspended in the middle shifted and morphed into a picture of Crown City. It was curious, magnificent even! And it was one of many wondrous things I would collect over the years.

"Thank you," I said.

"Carry on!" he replied, nickering for his mare to join him.

"Never far from home," I muttered to myself. I looked over it again. The image of the City morphed into yet another, of Chronos Square. It was amazing, but I felt, in my heart, that such a small device could not compare to the City - the real City.

"Hey!" a now familiar voice called to me. I looked up at Charger, still standing on the gangway, tapping a hoof impatiently. "You keep lookin' at that thing and you're gonna miss our ride!" I tucked the liquid-crystal compass away and trotted over to The National Midnight Star. I gave my ticket to the boarding inspector, who waved me on without so much as a second glance. I made my way up the ramp and joined Charger on the deck.

"Well Broon, there you are!" the baron said to me. "Did you make some friends back there?"

"I suppose," I smiled, turning into the afternoon breeze. We sauntered across the deck and leaned against the railing, looking out over the bay. The sun was well on its way to setting.

"So, kiddo?" the elder asked. "You glad to be on your way?"

"You're leaving me?"

"Aha, kid, you misunderstand - I made a promise that I'd take you to see the Clockwork Angels. What I meant was, are you glad you're going to get out there, see the big world for what it really is?"

"Oh," I sighed. "I'm just glad we made it this far. It's really is nice to be away from all those potatoes."

"Why, farming not exciting enough for you?"

"No," I laughed.

A bell rang, high in the masts above us.

Slowly, a low hum possessed the planks of the ship as the engine aroused its faculties. Deckhands scurried about, untying ropes, tethering others. The mooring cables and anchor were retracted as the sails, so, so, many of them, unfurled and caught the wind. The ship began to move. Slowly, at first, meandering through the water with nary a care. Ponies lined the deck railing and waved to loved ones with their kerchiefs.

"I'm ready to get out there," I said. Charger looked down at me, then turned from the railing.

"You close to your folks?" he asked as we made our way to the lower deck.

"Not really." I trailed off. "Thanks for doing this for me, Charger."

"Think nothing of it, boy."

The barque lurched out of the water, the docks drifting away behind the vessel. I looked out to the sea to find the water leaving us. We were joined by dozens of other, smaller vessels, in a caravan that spanned the late afternoon sky.

As the evening fell, the darkness of the coach cabin was interrupted at times by the soft glare of candlelight. Charger lead the way through rucksacks and cots scattered about the floor. Several ponies lay in the corner, coughing and huddling together; the stink of stuffy cabin air made me wonder about what I'd gotten myself into. I saw an elderly mare curled up next to her grandchildren, telling them about the glory and the gleam of the city. The colts fidgeted with excitement and anticipation, and for a moment, I did with them.

Charger clicked his tongue, beckoning me to his side. I leapt to keep pace with the seasoned traveler, coming to rest at a small open space of the floor, near a porthole on the starboard side.

“Alright,” the cream stallion said. “This is where we’ll bed for the night.”

I gave him a crazed look of surprise. “Right here?" Aren't there beds or something?”

“This is coach, boy. You want a bed, you’ll have to haul one here yourself.” He smirked. “And that’s just not practical.”

I winced, sitting down. Not a day into this journey, and already I was missing my bed. Sooner or later I would have to grow a backbone; otherwise I would find myself buried in potatoes again. Charger, conversely, seemed perfectly at home wherever he went.

We talked, for a time, about his travels. He was happy to talk about his exploits, having spent the better half of thirty years on the run from either the Regulators or angry innkeepers. He didn't think himself the romantic type, but after one too many false proposals and far too many angry mares chasing him down, he’d become a wanted pony, for better or worse.

And like I said before, more often than not, it was for worse.

“You got folks back home Charger?” I asked, though the answer was not at all a mystery. The stallion removed his hat and set it on the ground, laying his head atop it. It was filled with what appeared to be a change of clothes, which doubled as a pillow.

“Home?” he laughed. “Where’s that?”

“So… no then?”

“Nope.” He turned onto his side, facing away from me.

“Oh.” I looked down and exhaled quietly.

“Well,” the stallion spoke up, “I guess that’s not all true.” He sat up and looked over at the me. “Somepony once said to me that ‘home is where the heart is.’ I used to wonder what it meant, but after a while it became quite simple.” He poked a hoof to my chest. “You know what it means?” I paused for a moment, searching my knowledge of the Watchmare’s teachings for anything resembling the phrase.

“That um… oh, I got nothing,” I sighed. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“Well,” Charger continued, “some tell me they think it means that all the love’s back home; that everything you need is at home. That there’s no place like it. Now me, I spend my time on the road, see? I got nowhere to go but forward, and this mare I met one time, she told me something different.”

“What’s that?”

“That home,” he said, smiling, “is where you want to be the most. I laughed and told her that was a bunch of sentimental bull, she probably said it ‘cause she thought I was going to marry her or something, but she had a point. You can travel the whole world and never settle down, but as long as you’re where you want to be, isn't that home enough, see what I mean?”

“Kind of,” I nodded slowly. “But home is a place you live, right?”

“Yeah,” Charger replied. “But if I live on the road, that’s my home, ain't it?”

“Sure.”

“So,” the stallion continued, “I guess I was lyin’ when I said I didn't have family back home. I got you, don’t I?”

“For family?” I laughed. “I barely know you.”

“We’ll just have to change that,” Charger sighed, lying down again. “Goodnight.”

“Night, Charger.” I put my head down on the cold wood floor, and squirmed.

It was difficult to get comfortable, no matter how hard I tried.

A thick beaver hat landed on my face.

“There,” he said. “That’s a start.”

I silently thanked him for his generosity, and tucked it under my head.

I spent the night awake, gazing at the shifting images of the city, glowing from within the liquid-crystal compass. Soon, my tired eyes closed, accompanied by the image of an eyeless demon pony perched atop a mast, overlooking the sea.