Shaman of the Zaharren

by Beware The Carpenter

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Zecora, Alternate Universe, Sad, Romance, Original Character, Adventure, Sex
Length: 5741

Zecora, at last, her own story unfurls of her youth in a distant part of the world. Danger, rebellion and the quest of her life now revealed in this short tale of strife.

Listen to me, and pay heed to my words
Young citizen of the Equestrian herd;
For many long years have been seen by these eyes
And through trial and prudence, my heart has grown wise.
The time has come for you to know
The truth of my past, in years long ago.
Nights of passion and of years of war
Endless depths of wondrous lore
Deadly perils and unmeasured glory
Will you listen, as I tell my story?

Satellite story to Limits of the Horizon

Picture used with the permission of White Diamonds

Published 2014-01-04 18:20:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-09 14:11:35 UTC

Respite of Wisdom

In the beginning The Logos, Great Father of Light,

From Its essence formed Wisdom and created all life.

By Its will the foundations of the universe were laid

Then, as an expression of glory, the cosmos It made;

Sun, moon and stars; earth, sky and sea,

It made by Its power, whatever it pleased.

It then formed races to rule on Its behalf:

Pony and camel, griffon and giraffe

Lama, elephant, and many more it unfurled

To live by Its rulings, and rule over the world.

But to steward the stewards, came those even greater

To be dispensers of justice, and of truth be curators;

The last and the greatest, to shepherd all races

Came draconequus with powers, to govern all peoples and places.

Such was the way of the universe fair

That life carried on with hardly a care.

Until hunger and malice, deception and strife

Found place in the elders, and took over their lives.

Discontented with stewards, they sought to be masters,

In their pride and their folly, they invited disaster.

Chances were given, to repent and submit

But the draquoni were obdurate that their crimes they’d not forfeit.

They propelled the young races they were meant to lead,

Down death-holes of violence, hatred and greed;

Each trying to claim the earth for their own

Their cruelty endless, their kindness unknown.

For an age of the earth there was nothing but war

As the blood of their armies, the draquoni outpoured.

Till at last one of their number proclaimed himself king,

Emerging victorious over the bones of his kin;

Subduing all rivals, he enforced endless strife

Denying the Logos, and blaspheming life.

Using his powers that were meant to bring joy

To deceive and to torture, to cause fear and destroy.

Till six alicorns of the days long ago

Remembered this state was not always how it was so.

They remembered the Logos and cried out for aid

Repenting of wickedness and confessing they’d strayed.

Given to them was the power of amity

And with this gift of heaven they ended calamity.

Sealed in stone, the mad king was banished,

His empire fallen, his army was vanquished.

The powers of Discord were broken; divided

Among his subduers, who were by harmony guided.

A new age dawned on the earth that fair day

The earth, under the alicorns, returned to the way.

The Logos appointed them, the new stewards of earth

They became great and mighty, in wisdom and mirth

But like the draquoni, their glory would end

When upon their own power they chose to depend.

They honoured the Logos, but their love for It failed

As the joy in their worship became sickly and frail.

Legalistic and crude, they became masters of bigotry

As though adoration of commoners would sap heaven’s dignity;

Claiming the joy of the Logos was not for the masses,

They discouraged Its rites in all lower classes.

They forbade Its worship to all but a few

Then fewer and fewer these vested ones grew,

Till scarcely a hundred so-called priests did remain

And these were corrupt, haughty and vain.

The effect on rectitude was as apples from locusts

Without spiritual guidance, the people lost focus

Falling away, they began worshiping demons

Without sight of their master, they lost their rhyme and their reason.

A plague was unleashed against the esteemed

And Discord unleashed to punish those fiends

To remind them they followed the path of the lost

And if they continued, what would be the cost.

Offers were made to be stewards renewed

But they were rejected; and chaos continued;

Till two pony sisters, princesses of old,

Restored relics of harmony and returned Discord to stone.

They tried to rebuild the lands of their youth;

And recapture times of virtue and truth.

But too many years had gone by between,

The releasing of Discord and of his defeat.

No one remembered the true way of the Logos,

Fragments and whispers were all that were posed,

The law of the Logos was so tainted and blurred,

That even the sisters, could not remember the word.

Any attempt to re-worship the God of their past

Was shattered when younger struck elder, in murderous craft.

What emerged from the ashes of that Solar War

Knew little, if anything, of what came before.

No stories or proverbs could one rightly account

While rumours and falsehoods and lies did abound.

Nations they fractured, one from the other,

And migrated out; son separate from mother.

No longer united under the alicorns’ rule,

Each species left, and alone became fools.

Who is the Logos, and what is Its name?

What are Its laws for whom my heart should flame?

Who is the God to whom my allegiance is owed?

I will tell you plainly; I do not know.

But all is not lost, and hope is not gone.

There yet comes the day, of a new truthful dawn.

And for that day’s coming, we watch and we pray

And prepare for its splendor, however we may.

For though the full truth is quite out of our grasp

All nature sings of Its glory, and to this we may clasp.

For this crucial task, the shamans were formed,

To study creation, that we might be informed

Of the author who breathed life into all this

Thus, somewhat rekindle, what has gone amiss.

We took to this quest with great skill and fierce passion

Studying all that we saw; in all manner of fashions.

Yet as the bodies of sentients are the jewels of creation

We chose these as the pinnacle focus of our fascinations.

We studied primarily; all of hurt and disease,

And how we could cure them with roots, vines, herbs, and trees.

We studied all flora and the effects they possessed

When brewed into potions and used to ingest.

Sleep, diet and exercise were then mastered and tamed.

To cure near all ailments we came to be trained.

Centuries passed, and our knowledge grew

Seeking not only healing, but enhancements too;

Stronger muscles, denser bones, and longevity

Heightened senses, immune systems and fertility.

Till in all manner of creature there was scarcely a limit

and not one bodily function we could not enhance or inhibit.

Then came a shaman who noticed by chance

Her patients healed faster in hypnotic trance.

So we explored not only the body, but also the mind

With redoubled passion to see what we could find.

We learned close observation, and the art of deduction;

And to remove from our learning, all harmful obstructions.

Language not just of speech, but of body and face

Then how suspicion and memory, to discretely efface.

We learned how to hypnotize, and how to cause fear,

How to persuade, and how to bring cheer;

And truly what’s mentioned is not half the list

In short, we mastered the arts of the mentalist.

Last of our crafts; we learned about war

To fight and to kill, to maim and to gore.

Not for great conquest or the creation of strife,

(Though in defense on the innocent, we would take a life),

But to cement our knowledge of body and mind

For what is combat; but biology, fitness, and cunning combined?

For six hundred years we wandered the earth

No home and no country; we had not a berth

Till four centuries ago, a temple we raised

Whose size, strength and glory, was far and wide praised

The place of our choosing, was the vast Timbucktoo,

Jewel of the Zaharren, which from the desert is hewn.

Great lord of the trade routes, north, south, east and west

Ruled by the alicorn Ferric, who by the Logos was blessed

Stewardship over the earth’s magnetic fields

That to his wishes, all metals must yield.

From the trade of his city, we mustered great plunder

And the number of species it was a great wonder.

To the north was the ocean, and the lamas dwelt west,

Camels to south, who were most often our guests;

Save for the Equestrians who from across the vast desert did come,

To be welcomed by zebras as their most distant cousins.

For Ferric’s fine metals, it was worth the great test,

Of braving the wasteland of sunshine and death.

We hoped that by choosing such a central location,

Our teachings would spread and enlighten all nations;

We thought we would influence the world by our actions;

Alas, to our shame, quite the opposite happened.

We sought to gain wealth and prestige for our quests

These things came to us easily, through various tests.

But our tools became masters and our means became ends

We gained wealth so quickly, that with greed we grew friends.

After this folly began, many worse things did follow

For with but wealth to stand for, our hearts became hollow.

To make our teachings pleasing to everyone’s eyes

We forfeited conviction and gave way to compromise.

A little bit here; a little bit there, our temple was defiled

As we accepted false teachings which we should have reviled.

I shall not recount all that was done on our floors,

Just know that slowly but surely we opened our doors,

To the superstitions of lamas and their pantheon of delusion,

And then could not close it to the camel’s bigot seclusions.

Then, counting from the end of the great solar war,

Came the departure of Ferric in nine-ten-and-four.

He called his officials to a royal convention

Saying trouble in the mountains, required attention.

He would go alone, and not return till he’d negated his fears

But that he knew not if this would be weeks, months or years.

So he anointed a steward, a wise servant named Appraen,

Flew into the mountains, and was not seen again.

Did he simply grow tired of the life of a king

And seek to move on to try other things?

Did secret guilt make him feel unfit to lead;

And so in heeding his conscience take lonely leave?

Did the ground open up and swallow him whole?

You should not ask me, for how should I know?

After ten years, the searches began,

to find our lord Ferric and bring him back to his lands.

Slowly at first and then quite in earnest,

As many young stallions did make this their purpose.

By thirty years; the searches had extensively grown

As, step by step, the world was combed.

Youths searching for signs of their missing master

Goading each other to search for him faster.

But at length they grew tired and returned to their homes

Their master unfound, they ended their roams.

The remaining stewards have ceaselessly pled

That they would have known if Ferric was dead.

For the death of one steward is felt by the others

By the links they all share; one to another.

They swear he’s alive but do not know where

Nor can they tell, if he’s free or ensnared.

But although much wealth was lost without Ferric’s alloys

We kept more than enough through our banks and trade convoys.

And in government his vanishing was not such a great loss

As aside from defense; Ferric issued few laws

And his good steward Appraen did carry on these

or at least at the start, this was how it did seem.

For although rich trade continued to pour through our gates

And war hardly touched us, or put us in straits,

Our culture, it rotted from the inside out

As we shaman gained power, and allowed greed to sprout.

The shaman forsook the destiny for which they’d been borne

And ‘twas in this time, and this place; that I was born.

A Troublesome Filly >>>

A Troublesome Filly

My name is Zecora, a zebra and mare;

I was born to a family which had money to spare.

My father, a shaman, of great might and authority

But sadly these things had become his priority.

He could see the devastation wrought on our kind

To the loss of our innocence he was not at all blind.

He claimed to love truth, and hold wisdom as dear

But though he may wish for righteousness, his master was fear.

From the earliest memories that I can recall

I had unending desires to learn and know all.

My family’s garden was my annexed domain

My love was for science, that much was plain

No time for dolls, and short time for foals

My love was for nature, the universe whole.

The trees spoke to me of beauty and mirth

So strong and so gentle as they grew up from the earth.

The water, it sang with its sweet, bubbling stridor

Of the same master-craftsman as the web-spinning-spider.

I bounded through endless days and nights of elation

And I explored all I could of the great artist’s creation.

Were I a colt, I would have doubtless been given,

The shaman’s vocation; for which I was driven.

But as a mare I was barred from shaman’s higher learning

But I would not have this, for my passion was burning!

Whenever my brothers left their books lying about

I would go and snatch them, like water in drought.

Read till the secrets of their lore were unlocked,

Then give the books back, but in my mind I’d concoct,

A thousand new ways to use what I’d learned,

Always alert for new data to churn.

My father learned of at least some of my thirst,

When knowledge from him I tried to coerce.

He did not approve but neither forbade

Believing this interest was naught but a phase.

I copied the arts of the shaman as much as allowed

Though most of these arts I was forced to enshroud;

And yet, there were others whose probation was less clear

And so I could practice without need for fear.

Most obvious was that, when I spoke in rhyme

It forced me to plan my words ahead of time.

To think before speaking, several lines in advance

Ensures that one’s clarity is not surrendered to chance.

A shamanic training gimmick, I made it law;

I practiced and practiced until it came without flaw.

My knowledge accumulated, as I grew older

And my quest for more knowledge grew all the bolder.

So in my young teens I began hidden revolt

Attending true classes, disguised as a colt.

Three simple potions to alter face, stripes, and voice

And a shamanic robe, completed my choice.

With my new identity would I maneuver my passes

Into the temple and shamanic classes;

And looked on the depths to which our arts had decayed

And how ancient wisdom had been butchered and flayed.

Lies and delusions were honored as doctrines of worth

And the gods of the lamas were worshiped with mirth!

And over this adultery of evil and vice

Stood Chief Shaman Ragarrock, a creature of avarice.

A unicorn zebra; most ancient in years

A viper, who long since had defeated all peers.

His horn, early deformed, splitting half-way,

Protruding to two points that curved outward a-fey;

And between them he could wield such monstrous power,

He could compel five alpha unicorns to wither and cower.

I confess at the start I was not very brave;

and there was a time when my resolve nearly waved.

But I prayed to the Logos and it gave me strength

Its peace and Its goodness came in unending length.

Through the grace of the Logos, my power multiplied

Swiftly outstripping those fattened on lies.

Passing with speed those raised in the temple

Until even some elders soon came to tremble.

Many great duels we fought in our tests

And in one in particular I excelled to be best.

Two shaman or more would round one cauldron stand

To prepare two rival potions, as they’d been given the plan.

One thousand ingredients would be placed all around

So that endless possibilities of combinations would abound.

My goal would be to brew one potion,

While my opponent pursued another notion.

Perhaps I’d seek antidote for a deadly disease

While my foe would craft opiate, by his expertise.

Among all of our options, which were different each time,

We must learn to browse quickly in order to find,

Things that would sway the concoction towards our separate goals,

And null all interferences from our enemies as we fought for the bowl.

To enhance your own goals and predict your opponents next movement

It felt much like chess, but with a thousand improvements.

During this time I began to foresee

A time when the Logos would wield far more than just me.

I began to find others who had come to realize,

The scales the Order had placed over most eyes.

We would meet in secret and lament the old ways,

And consider how we could inspire brighter days.

It came not long after, that my father discovered

All I was doing, and the ground that I’d covered.

He feared for my safety, to affirm me he baulked

Saying it was not my duty to challenge Ragarrock.

He was right of course; it was not my station;

It was his job to speak, and to challenge our nation!

But he failed this task, refusing its danger

Like most other shamen, who had cowed to be changers.

My brothers, my uncles, my elders, and colts

All shied from their duties, to from evil revolt.

Neglecting their honor, to which they were sworn

They kept silent; betraying those they should warn.

So if the Logos now chose a young filly instead,

So be it, I thought, this path I would tread!

But my father would not see me continue in strife

He thought such a calling would just take my life.

Nor would he allow the misdeeds of one daughter

Risk the pride of the family to teeter and falter.

He sought kindly but surely, my rebellion to doff

His solution was simple—he married me off.

Union of fortune >>>

Union of Fortune

This news, at the time, took me quite by surprise,

But was it not logical from my father’s eyes?

It transferred my trouble from him to another

And with luck it would soon delegate me a mother,

To small bundles of happiness which would devour my time;

And thus slow, if not cease, my perilous crimes.

But if I continued, was caught and condemned

No longer his charge, I would not be his problem.

His choice was made easy by that I was lovely to see

And that the bride price paid for me, was substantial indeed.

Besides all of that; I was already eighteen,

Older than most mares at their wedding scene.

When I first heard the news, I found it hard to digest,

But within a few days, I thought myself blessed.

I knew marriage was certain sooner or later,

And of all likely suitors this was the greater.

For my father, in tact, had chosen my life to consign,

To be the newest addition to the royal concubines.

I agreed to this readily as it left me with

Bountiful time in a grand garden forthwith;

To pursue all of my arts, and perfect my techniques

Save for one or two nights, every two or three weeks.

And with the palace and temple, so close in proximity

It would strengthen my faculty to come and go quickly.

My concession was willing; though it came not from the heart

But for the vast time and resources, this life would impart.

Yet greater as well would be danger and peril

If royalties garments became my apparel;

For although a common mare might avoid a harsh sentence,

Should she be found to be dabbling in shamanic senses,

But being royal by marriage, I’d be shown no drop of leniency,

Should my arts be discovered, while I a wife of the regency.

And having fought Raggerock; if caught he’d ensure

That the end of my life would be brought premature.

But the gains outweighed risks, it seemed so, by far,

And so I offered no protest that on the adar

Of my eighteenth year, I became the twenty-third wife

Of the sultan’s new steward who became the man of my life.

My husband was Caleth, for whom it was my place to swoon,

A pegasus zebra, with eyes like the moon.

Who from among Appren’s sons, had been selected most suited,

To succeed his old father once his long life had concluded;

Passing into those places beyond our imagining,

To find out what sentence the Logos declared for that king.

My first fortnight with Caleth, he was mine alone

By his side constantly as our passions were known.

I enjoyed these days thoroughly, from beginning to end,

Speaking with Caleth and seeking a friend.

But what I found puzzled me and by the end I’d concluded

That our roles were quite mutually to keep the other secluded.

I saw in Caleth a heart that sought to do right,

Yet had little knowledge beyond his own life.

This seemed an odd state for one they called king,

Until I saw better his role in all things.

In time it came, that I began to see clearly,

That although king in title, Caleth was merely,

A puppet for Ragarrock, the true lord of land,

Who had defeated my Caleth without making a stand.

For the chief shaman’s council to Caleth from youth,

Had been to seek pleasure fervently, and care little for ruth.

Indulging fine food and music, laughter and sport,

And all sorts of such things which then filled his great courts.

But the chief shank of distraction, it came by little surprise,

Was from the joys of a harem which was so well supplied,

And Caleth, a stallion, could not quite resist,

Kingship forgotten in his harem of bliss.

What a pair he and I made, each married to keep

The other from making a troublesome bleat;

That each other’s arms; our dissention might smother,

Yet we were not quite ‘a pair’, as there were twenty-two others.

Although my feelings for Caleth could scarce be called love

Were I naive, they would have been mistaken thereof.

So when my facilities became the object of his utilities,

I gladly performed my duties to the very best of my abilities;

And always I’ve cherished the finery to which me Caleth gave

Gold rings for my neck, arm and ear, on which our names are engraved.

When my fortnight with Calelth came to an end

I was moved to the harem; and was not to ascend

To Caleth’s chambers again except by his beckoning

Perhaps once a week, to partake in his wrestling;

Either alone, or with one to three other mares

With whom Caleth’s zeal, I would be obliged to share.

I strode to avoid, as much as I could,

The typical jealousies of a harem’s sisterhood.

I was somewhat successful but still often speculated

Caleth’s favour to me against those others he’d mated;

And believed, (like the others), that if I was not the first,

I was by no means his last choice to counter his thirst.

The first of my friends was Ayanu, for whom

Desire for Caleth had lost most of their spume.

Not that she didn’t desire the love of her lord

But knew that true love was too much to hope for;

And without the illusion of winning his love

Had no need to battle competitors thereof.

She was seven years older than me, with manners quite mild

And we became quite close once I midwifed her third child.

My second friend’s coming, was just five months after mine

When Caleth mandated her, his twenty-fourth bride.

Two years my junior and brimming with fire

Of angry self-righteousness, like an electrified wire.

She came from a small village, on the great desert planes

Whose family came to the city to purchase some grains.

And when Whinwick was found by Caleth’s wandering eyes

Chose wealth over their daughter and made hasty goodbyes.

Whinwick made clear from her first day in the palace

She was not there by choice, and despised her lord Caleth.

She critiqued and condemned royalties opulence

And even more fiercely; masculine dominance.

In the presence of Caleth, she employed brazen veneer

But elsewhere disparaged him with vituperation sneers.

This made her an outcast, from the rest of the sisters

Made worse by her reckless ambition to argue and bicker.

I sought to befriend her, conceiving that maybe

A way of noble revolt might help the young lady.

I showed her the prowess, I had covertly acquired

Which she took to with awe, and was quite swiftly inspired.

And so I discretely began her training forthwith

Her mind took to it quickly, with ambition and withe.

In time, engagements with Caleth came to steady routine,

And the days I’d be free became mine to foresee.

By now my friendship with Ayanu was trusting and close,

And so rather than simply instructing Whinwick, I chose

To take back my guise of shamanic mutiny,

And find what the Logos had planned out for me.

Twas no surprise that when Whinwick learned my intention,

No words could convince her to forgo intervention,

But insisted to join me, and test together our wiles

As we unravelled the sinews of Raggarock’s trials.

Ayanu had no wish to join in such tales,

But did agree, hesitantly, to help cover our trails.

To leave without pomp and return unannounced,

and to give false accounts for our whereabouts.

And to send word by the light of green-flamed lanterns

To alert us if we must make hasty returns.

Treason and Destiny>>>

Treason and Destiny

I took Whinweick to where my old friends once gathered

Those true shaman who’d denied Raggarock’s blather.

I was greatly inspired to find in my vacancy

The fellowship hadn’t faltered or wandered by aimlessly

But had in just six months had expanded threefold,

Becoming ever more organized, cunning and bold.

Finding this victory was a vast encouragement

To my soul and my mind furnishing great nourishment.

And so once again; I lived a duel life;

The shamanic rebel and the sultan’s meek wife.

We prayed and we practiced, as the great shaman of old

And sought out those seekers, who preferred wisdom to gold.

Our assembly grew daily, but with it also the risk

That revenge would be taken by Raggarock’s fist.

Such was the perilous state of such things,

That even though mares were part of our gatherings

I did not reveal myself, save for those most trusted and dear.

Even this was out of necessity, as at the dawn of the new year

My role in dissent became increasingly mild

Not for lack of ambition; but as I grew heavy with child.

My daughter, named Zidra, was born, nine months and six days

From the nineteenth anniversary, of my own birthday.

I loved her so dearly and yet held her so loose

So not to imperil her should I come to the noose.

I nursed her as often as my times would allow

But it was Ayanu on whom my daughter endowed

All that typical mothers gave to their daughters

Raising Zidra beside her fourth child Lawker.

Then came the day when Ragarrock vile,

Began teaching new ways for our arts to defile.

To sell people ‘contact with their ancestors past’

That for simple illusions we’d gain fortunes amass.

I felt that my epoch for action had finally arrived

To renounce Raggarock openly, in the sight of all eyes.

I challenged him fiercely his lies and his greed,

His fraud to the simple, and his infamous deeds.

That under his guidance truth was defiled

And things were called holy which should be reviled.

My words rang out clearly with fiery passion

As all hope now for peace was burnt up to ashes.

Yet now I could not back down or retreat

Or my words would but fall as frivolous bleats.

I was but a youth, one fourth of his age,

I needed to prove I had the rights of a sage.

And thus did I challenge him without pretence or caution

To duel me one time round the shamanic cauldron.

My rival thought little about his response

For this was a forte, of his minds spacious sconce.

Two infamous goals drawn from a great cauldron of chance

And with a thousand ingredients we did battle askance.

I knew from the start that I was in over my head

And were I to fail I was soon to be dead.

But it was not my battle I fought on that day

But of the Logos, who was the lord of my way.

My purpose was simply to pursue what was right

And surrender the consequences to the master of light.

The fight moved in earnest to forge rival brews;

And by the grace of the Logos I knew just what to do,

To craft an elixir that would counter his draught.

That I could but stand there left my rival distraught.

Yet he moved with great speed for one so full of years,

Brewing with vigour as he stood firm without fear.

Time passed us by, and we neared to the end

I drew to fulfilling my victorious blend.

And he too was not so far away from his goal

But still three times as distant, as one little foal.

The sweat that came from him it was pleasing to see

His hope washing away by little young me.

In was then at this crucial of times

In a moment of madness, he committed a crime.

So foolish was he, and so desperate his act,

Shame far worse than losing he took on his back,

He cheated, indeed, he conjured a spell,

And heated the cauldron to sputter and swell.

He noticed his folly as soon as it left him

But yet could not undo what he’d done on a whim.

The chief shaman had in front of quite a large throng

Cheated a youth who’d he’d mocked not so long.

I stood triumphant and with a small hint of glee

Though I knew that much greater struggles were ahead of me.

For after that day the shamans were split

and trouble was brewing, just waiting to hit.

I knew Raggarocks spys would be searching to know

Of this mysterious colt who could strike such a blow.

If I pulled back and forsook my false name

My safety was certain but also my shame.

I would not back down from this battle I fought,

And so I continued and prayed not to be caught.

So busy with study and so fervent in war

I saw Zidra so seldom, my heart was oft torn.

And how often I wondered, if she even knew

That I was her mother, and not Ayanu.

I told myself, that one day I would make it up

And be a true mother to my daughter Zidra.

But each day I had with her, that goal was deferred

I was torn from her life, er she spoke her first word.

As my third year in marriage did draw to an end

My name, through my alias, at last came to scend

Attacked in my sleep, I was arrested at night

Bound and subjected, er I became aware of my plight.

Taken to Caleth, for trial and sentence

But yet still I refused to utter repentance.

I spoke long and hard in hopes to convince

Using all that I knew of persuasion and wit.

I reminded Caleth of his duties as steward

To guard Ferric’s laws, not let them be skewered!

But mostly I spoke of Shamanic history

Showing my words were not some new theory

But treasures of truth from centuries passed

Whose understanding would this world outlast.

I appealed to Caleth, as my husband and lord

To do what was right, and to no longer ignore

The pleas of his conscience, and the poor of his land

And not abandon his wife to Raggarock’s demands.

Caleth listened closely, to all of my words

As if something inside of him, had come to be stirred.

He thought such a while, and I thought I’d persuaded

The one stallion whose influence could have blockaded

The sentence that Raggarock imposed on my life

And with hope make an end to this scandalous strife.

But Raggarock’s presence did recall to him awfully

The dangers that came with releasing me softly.

I’d admitted to leading a dissentious sect;

intent on destroying the lawful elect,

Theft of restricted tomes, and trespass of the sacred

Planned sabotage of rituals, and felony’s flagrent

Caleth said with great sadness, that it was not his to bend

The laws of the land to negate any offence.

He said he was sorry, and in the same breath

He laid down his sentence, and condemned me to death.

But death was not what the Logos sentenced for me

It declared by its mercy, that I should be freed.

It said that my quest, was not yet over and done

Instead to the contrary; it had only begun.

............................................................................................................................................................

The pegasus filly in Zecora’s hut

Harked with eager attention to what

Zecora had told her and then gave a small flail

When Zecore took this place to postpone her tale.

Yet however she pled, Zecora would not be swayed

Saying that was enough to learn for one day.

There was much more to tell, in this tale of gallantry

Of her salvation from prison and flight from her family.

Traversing the landscape, many times back and forth,

Then staying a while in the tundra far north;

With mighty wolf-kings and the guileful windigos.

And reclusive wolverines in their wastelands of snow.

Before turning once more and coming to Everfree

Trading vast plains of sleet, for labyrinths of trees

But too much learning at once would make it hard to assort

All the clandestine meanings Zecora wished to purport.

For knowledge was meaningless to give without cost

If the lessons it taught, would just swiftly be lost.

Yet as the filly grew silent and began sipping her tea

Zecora knew it would not be long before she

Was ready to hear, the next phase of her narrative

Of her travels abroad and of Timbucktoo’s heritage.

For of all of the pupils Zecora had trained

And of those to who mysteries she had explained,

Or the patients she’d saved by her brews,

This one was special; more than she knew.