Seven Years Bad Luck

by Whitestrake

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Human, Adventure
Length: 4630

The unthinkable has happened, and the Crystal Empire's royal family is missing, leaving the country to pick up the pieces as inquiries are made. It is a miracle they yet live, but for how long in a hostile environment, so unlike home?

With Sunset Shimmer returned to Equestria, the mirror portal she used is left in curious position, and it is decided by Princess Cadance and her husband to destroy it, in order to prevent anypony from abusing its power. But, the mirror is not simply a thing of crystal glass; it is a focal point for the world's ambient magic, a great teleportation spell capable of crossing the fabric of reality. With this focus broken, the magic lashes out, and takes with it two ponies, two very important ponies, and leaves the Crystal Empire in chaos while they are missing.

What's worse, wherever it is they've ended up, they didn't arrive together.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-02-26 22:06:35 UTC

There was a crooked man...

        For the Crystal Empire’s royal family, the day was one of mixed feelings. One one hoof, Sunset Shimmer, estranged former student of Princess Celestia, had finally returned home, and was met with the same kindness the princesses showed to all who needed it. While, of course, this was a celebration, it left a rather daunting task on the Empire’s shoulders: the very mirror that Sunset had used to leave and return now posed a unique threat should its purpose be discovered by anypony who might abuse its power. It was not made of glass, or crystal, or anything so mundane, for such simple materials would have warped and melted under the pressures exerted up them. Like many powerful artifacts, its exact make was nearly impossible to know, lost to the sands of time. According to what few official records existed, Princess Celestia had commissioned it from zebra artisans some two thousand years prior, and if they were somehow still alive, they most certainly wouldn’t tell anypony how they managed it.

        Possible composition aside, it served as a focus of transporting energies, like a supercharged teleportation spell. Attuned to her magic, the mirror would link to another focal point somewhere else for as long as it remained intact, or Princess Celestia lived. Obviously, the former was the most likely end to its function, and with it no longer holding a lost Equestrian, it was time for the magic powering it to return to its mistress. Destroying it was no simple task, for it had been crafted of something that resisted most conventional attempts at ruination, and required something a bit more subtle that a sledgehammer. Ritual magic, though a common enough practice amongst the educated unicorn magi of Canterlot and various universities, was complex when needed for a specific task rather than a general need, nearly ridiculously so.

        The mirror had been moved from its previous chamber, and now rested in a grand theater, carved from the palace’s crystal walls for this very purpose. Geometricians, hired from nearly every masonry guild in Equestria, had carefully, painstakingly, etched the entirety of the walls and ceiling with intersecting line, forming angles that twisted and shifted when one gazed at them for too long. Spirals, circles, and impossible shapes bulged out at the viewer, meaningless to any who did not understand them, and all were created only by those straight lines. The very air was electrified, filled with a tinge of ozone and the combined nervousness of the magi; it had been centuries since such an artifact was returned to the aether, nopony was quite sure how to go about it. Some records existed of course, but never in detail, all for fear somepony would repurpose the energies held within for their own ends.

        One by own, the lines ignited, energized by the theater’s performers in a grand show of light and sound. The torches along the walls darkened and died as the glow intensified, growing blindingly bright in the span of a few moments. The magi saw without their eyes as Celestia’s trapped magic filled the air, bracing against a howling ethereal wind. The gust was choppy and screamed as it blew through unseen corridors as the lines materialised in three dimensions. It was confining, squeezing, though not from pressure; it wasn’t that they were being pressed inwards, so much as being between two shapes that fit together perfectly. Blinding, oppressing, and violently hot, it was as if they had flown too close to the sun, and felt as though they were burning in its brilliance.

        Each magus felt the mirror unravel on a microscopic level, becoming one with the world’s ambient magic before returning to its mistress. It was a rush, a pure, blissful agony that lanced through their horns as they siphoned the energy from destructive ends, and returned it to the world. A brilliant aurora erupted from the palace, bathing the whole of the Empire in bright, colorful light. As it erupted, it imploded, drawing into itself until only the theater was illuminated with the power of hundred suns. It was mind-numbing, but swiftly ended. Of the ten ponies who entered, eight collapsed as the light fade.

        Two faded with the light, gone from sight as surely as the mirror.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

        He was dizzy, undeniably so, and his very bones felt frozen. He groaned in his delirious state, rolling over to find a warmer spot, only to be jabbed in the side by a sharp rock. He knew right away he was not in his be, and Cadance was not lying next to him. HIs eyes snapped open, and shut just as quickly; it was too bright to just jump up and go about figuring things out, so he opted to slowly ease himself awake. Digging his head into the ground, he realized it was both wet and cold, and there was the crunch of powdery ice. FInally used to the blindness, he opened his eyes.

It was snowing, and while not unusual, Shining Armor knew he was not in the Crystal Empire; there were simply too many trees, the sort that only grew in temperate climates. A few tenacious vines even clung to frost-covered trunks, too recent was the chill for them to have died off completely. All in all, with the mix of warm- and cold-weather plantlife, it reminded him of his family’s cabin in Coltorado Springs. He had been walking now for a few minutes, and still, there was no sign of Cadance. He didn’t want to call out for her, just in case he attracted unwanted attention from whatever was in the woods around him, and part of him felt he was being watched.

He took a step forward, snapping a twig under his hoof, and jumped as the bark of the tree next to him exploded outwards. A dull thunderclap echoed through the woods, shattering the relative calm like a cannon’s report. Not thinking, he ran, kicking up a wave of powdery snow and he took off. He zigzagged to avoid the mini thunder cannon that  fired from some unseen vantage point, and felt the heat as a projectile crossed just over his nose. They were fast if they reached him before he heard them, so he’d have to be faster to keep the shooter’s aim off him; even then, though, it was rather close.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the thunderous cannon ceased firing, and Shining Armor let his coat blend into the white snow, hoping it would blanket over his mane and tail enough for him to avoid any more unpleasant surprises. A warm, wet dripping on his cheek drew his attention, and he dabbed the dribble of blood away; he gasped, realizing his ear had been torn, only now feeling the pain as his body slowed down. What’s worse, his blood left a vivid trail for whatever was watching him to follow at leisure. The snow was falling heavy, maybe enough to cover his trail, maybe enough to hide him and his blood, but not so long as his ear kept streaming fresh, warm liquid to melt it off and leave a bright mark against the stark white.

Crunch

Something was walking at a slow, steady pace, sure-footed in the snow and slick ground.

Crunch

It was closer than first anticipated as it stepped into view. A living shrub on two legs, clutching a staff or weapon of some sort in its hands, was what hunted him. The thing in its hands was of wood and metal, bundled in white patterned cloth to camouflage it in the snow, easily identified as artificial by Armor’s eyes. Whatever it was, it was intelligent, hostile, and blended in perfectly in the snow, but it was very much a flesh and blood creature, as proven by the steaming breath that billowed from in front of what he thought to he its head. Luckily, it was on the wide away from Armor’s injured ear, so perhaps it would avoid seeing the bloody mess. Growling, it fluttered its hand over a bolt near its weapon’s grip, expelling a brass shell; it then dropped a small box from the weapon’s underside, and quickly stowed it beneath its shrub-like fur, before replacing it.

Its task completed for the time being, it sniffed at the air, and let out an exhausted, throaty grumble, seemingly irritated at losing Armor for the moment. As it walked away, Armor realized the snow wasn’t crunching as loudly as it had been before, and with the odd gait it had adopted, it was nearly silent against his thundering heartbeat. It was intelligent enough to use oddly advanced weaponry, and blend into an environment that had changed quickly enough for vines to still be alive while covered in snow. Now, it seemed deathly agile, so much so that Shining was left wondering just how quickly it could move when needed. Had it chased him while he fled the cannon, unseen and unheard, hidden by his own motion and noise? Had it been the one firing the cannon, and now stalked through the woods after him?

Shaking the snow off, happy his ear had stopped bleeding, he made sure to watch out for the stalker as he crept through the underbrush. He needed to find Cadance, and quickly, and return to the Empire, and he could hardly search as well as he’d hope to while this monster chased him. A sudden gust of wind howled through the trees, sending piles of heavy snow from the tree tops. He kept low, eyes darting this way and that, looking for any out of place shrubbery that would turn into hungry animals. Armor came to a full stop as he saw a deer in the distance, looking alert, but ignoring him for the time being. He thought to call out and get the buck’s attention, but something was off about it; it kept repeating the same motion over and over again, rigidly and without variety.

“Hey, are you alright?” he asked, trotting up to it and the bush it was repeatedly snacking on. At first, seeing the plastic body and movement lines, he wanted to run, but morbid curiosity drew him closer. The buck was animatronic, like something one would see in a carnival freakshow, a thing for amusement and wonder, so why was it in the middle of nowhere, where nopony would ever see it?

“Oh, so you talk, eh?” the shrub said, as it yanked him to the ground. There was a needle jab, and his vision jumped for a moment. “I hope you don’t mind that I used a sedative reserved for mountain lions and bears. No hard feelings, right?” Armor struggled against the stalker for a few moments, feeling himself slowly weakening as the tranquilizer wreaked havoc on his nervous system. For the second time that day, Shining Armor was put to sleep.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

        He awoke sometime later, when the sun was setting, or perhaps rising? He was indoors now, in a cabin or house that smelled of incense and wood smoke. His body felt heavy, his muscles sluggish and his mind cottony with the sedative’s lingering effects. He must have metabolized most of it, and awoken before his captor wanted, leaving him the chance to plan a counterattack. He shifted in the bed he lay on, creaking hidden springs louder than he thought possible, and cursed his own clumsiness. His hooves touched the wooden floor gently, without much sound; he knew the stalker could hunt by sound alone, so he needed to be very careful, lest he alert it.

        There was a rack of weapons on the wall, each similar to what the stalker had used, but all different; Armor didn't trust himself to use one at the time, with his mind so addled. He quietly stumbled through the cabin, careful not to trip over anything, and quickly found himself near the front room. The stalker lay in a  limp pile, and Armor realized that it had been wearing clothing, and merely discarded the brush-like camouflage it used to ambush him earlier. The smell of incense was heavier now, cloying and choking; Shining could barely keep himself from heaving at the overwhelming scent. The stalker seemed to like it, and maybe that hid his own scent enough to avoid it, so he took it as providence enough against this odd enemy.

        There was another scent in the air, one of oil and metal polish, accompanied by a dull, scraping noise. Armor sneaked around to find its source, hoping to avoid the stalker’s attention if he could, but he needed to know where it was to avoid it. It, or something with a similar build, sat at a table, its weapon in pieces before it, as it polished and fitted them together. There was a casual moment of disinterest as it looked up at him, uncaring as one might be to seeing a fly from behind a closed window. “Take a seat on the couch, if ya don’t mind,” it said, in a masculine voice. “Ah’ll be with you shortly.”

        Shining Armor looked at the odd thing as it went about it work, not moving from his spot as he saw the meticulous, precise work its fingers were capable of. A glass of scotch rested on the table next to its arm, which he sipped from on occasion; it didn't even have the equinity to shiver at the burning in its throat. Finally, as its task was completed, it placed its weapon on a small rack near the door, and took a seat on the couch opposite the one it wished Shining Armor to sit on. Seeing they were on equal footing, for at the moment he was without magic and it had relinquished its weapon, he took a moment to read a little sign above the door.

And they all lived together in a little crooked house.

Who walked a crooked mile...

        The stalker rose from his seat twice to refill its - his - glass, and with each passing moment, he seemed to relax more and more. They were not precisely comfortable around each other, and Shining Armor knew enough to politely refuse anything he was offered, careful not to offend the stalker before his magic returned in full. The silence, oddly enough, was hardly awkward, though it was filled with inordinate amounts of staring and quiet judgment. Shining held up a hoof to refuse a third offered drink, which, like the others, appeared to be water, but could have been laced with any number of insidious chemicals. Shining was waiting until the stalker was drunk to make his escape, if he could manage it; maybe the drink would throw off his aim, or maybe put him to sleep.

        “So, might Ah ask what yer doin’ in this neck o’ the woods?” he asked, taking another sip.

        “Your kind always drink this much?” Armor asked in kind, testing the waters to see how soon his escape would be. Much to his joy, the stalker smirked and chuckled, shaking his head in good humor.

        “Ah suppose some of us do, but Ah drink t’ steady my hands.” To illustrate, he held up his free hand, which remained steady as a statue. If he needed a depressant to keep steady, was he constantly drinking, or was he putting on a show? “But, my question stands, mister… ?”

        “Armor, my name is Shining Armor,” the stallion answered, still looking for some hint of tipsiness in his captor’s voice, but cursed his luck when he detected no such trace. This was not good for his chances, but maybe he would be able to sneak out after the stalker went to sleep naturally; that theory, of course, relied on him requiring sleep at all, which wasn’t so certain at that point. “So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your name?”

        “Taylor, not much else to tell, honestly,” he replied, smiling. It was the first time Shining had seen him with an expression other than mild disinterest, and for some reason, he couldn’t help but feel the kindness wasn’t forced. Perhaps his culture had a thing for hospitality, or maybe he just wanted to lull him into a false sense of security to murder him. “Well, Mister Armor, I’m sure ya’ve a few questions for me, am Ah right?”

        The directness, the bluntness, was something the stallion hadn’t been prepared for, and it was rather shocking. This stalker, Taylor, was something else, quite unlike any species he’d studied in Equestria, and this left Shining at a disadvantage. Had his kind been living in the shadows, or were they simply another another race that had yet to be discovered? How far from the Crystal Empire had he been thrown, and where was Cadance? Was she safe? Trivialities such as his ability to return home were pushed aside as he focused on his main objective.

        “Have you seen anypony like me around here?” he asked, sure of himself. There was a flash of insight in Taylor’s eyes as the stallion spoke, but he had no choice but shake his head. “A little taller, and pink, with wings?” he kept adding to the description, and with each new feature, it was farther and farther from what the stalker could recall.

“Sorry; truth is, Ah ain’t seen much o’ nothing the past few days, least of all two o’ ya,” he answered, seeming sad enough to almost be believable, but Armor wouldn’t buy it for a second. The stalker went quiet, and for the first time, set his glass down on the coffee table between them. “Now, Ah can tell whoever yer lookin’ for is real important to ya, but Ah honestly haven’t seen ‘er”

That little detail, that he knew Cadance’s sex was enough for Armor to nearly blow up, but he controlled himself and managed to only whisper. “How did you know I was looking for a mare?” The stalker went quiet, mulling over how he could respond, but just as he was about to answer, he was cut off. “And what’s more, you tried to kill me earlier, but now you’re acting like we’re old friends.” Taylor, as he called himself, looked surprised at the accusation, but did not seem to deny it. “So, what’s the deal?” Armor asked, his voice only slightly above conversational levels.

“Ya’ve got a point, and the least Ah can do is explain myself,” the stalker said, shrugging. “Ah was out and about, like usual, and saw you moving around, but not too clear.” He gestured with his thumb to the same weapon he’d assembled earlier. “Had ya figured fer a deer before I got a clean look at you.” He smiled and chuckled as if it was something funny, but Armor very quickly started to wonder what his odds were if he were to smash the scotch glass in Taylor’s face and make a run for it. “Sorry about the ear, by the way.”

“I’m a bit more concerned about you killing innocent deer,” he replied, lightly touching the bandage over the tattered ear. He didn’t want to seem so angry and run the risk of being killed himself, but he wanted to get his point across. To his credit, the stalker had shame enough to look apologetic.

“Ah assure you, I have never heard a deer speak, and a man has to eat.”  A lie, perhaps, or maybe a genuine disregard for life; either way, Shining was certain he was dealing with a predator of some sort, and since they were on even ground, he may have stood a fair chance in the worst case. “Ya seem a little upset; Ah suppose deer can speak wherever it is yer from?”

Where you’re from. The phrase stuck in Shining’s mind, and he lowered his head in thought. He was definitely far from home, but there weren’t any instances of deer being unable to speak, save mutes or those who spoke a language most ponies had never heard of. Even those were built differently than the animatronic dummy he’d been tricked by, but the differences were small. Biting back a bit of shocked grief, he found the nerve to say something simple, a small deception wrapped in truth. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever been to a place deer could not speak.”

        In itself, the phrase seemed normal, but implied much more than Armor could have known. While it was certainly possible to confuse deer language with simple animal noises, he had no idea of the evolutionary courses that had taken shape in eons past, no clue that only a few animals had the ability to speak, and then, only to mimic. Shining Armor, in his intelligence, had proven to be something once thought nearly impossible, a curious biological quirk. Taylor smiled to reassure him. “Ah assure you, I would never bring unnecessary harm to an intelligent creature; it goes against everything Ah believe.”

        What qualified as unnecessary, Shining wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He gave a mental nudge, and realized his magic was back at full strength. He could escape right now if he so wished, but, to his credit, he shared the same belief Taylor did. Their eyes met, and the stalker smirked at him. “Yer free to go if ya want, but with the sun set, it’s a bit colder than it was this morning.” He took another sip of his drink, the first he’d taken since the conversation really began, and looked into the brightness that lay just outside the window; the moonlight reflecting off the snow was blindingly brilliant. “It should warm up tomorrow, so if yer willing to sleep here for the night, Ah’ll join you looking fer her tomorrow.”

        With that, Taylor nodded to him, and retired for the night.

@#@#@#@#@#@#

        Snow crunched under his hooves, leaving dark prints as the ground’s soil showed through the brightness. He’d spent most of the day in a coma brought on by the stalker’s tranquilizers, but that hardly counted as rest, and while he’d only begun his search, the cold was sapping his strength faster than he’d anticipated. It wasn’t biting, and though the wind had settled, the chill set into his bones. Honestly, on an empty stomach and lacking sleep as he was, the cold earth’s call to sleep was nearly enough to give him pause. He was lost far, far from home, without his wife; he needed to find her and figure out some way to get home, but had no way of doing so.

        He didn’t even have an idea where here was, but he knew he most certainly wasn’t anywhere ponies were common, not if the deer were incapable of speech. Had the stalker even been telling the truth, or was he a murderer? Had he made the right choice in leaving, or was it a trap? Was he planning to kill Armor out here? It was certainly quiet enough for Taylor to stalk him, but without the wind, would he be easier to detect? Would he even need to be near to kill the stallion, or would his cannon take care of that?

        The sound of crunching snow drew his attention, rapidly approaching, and he hunkered down to hide himself. A large, dark shape sprinted through the woods, running on four legs instead of the stalker’s two. It was a seething, implacable pile of muscled destruction as it angrily ran through small trees without pause, its beady eyes glinting in the moonlight. It was a bear, large and dark as night, and it was charging right at him. It was winter by Shining’s best guess, so what was a bear doing awake, and why was it so mad?

        Without pause, he sparked his horn to life, ready to erect a shield to safeguard himself from the irate ursa. The spell failed in a small shower of pink lights, leaving him without defense; he cursed the settled chill, sure it was the cause of his lack of energy, but it had never happened before. A sudden slam in his side brought him fully back to reality, but even as he prepared to fight back, the sudden thunderclap of the stalker’s weapon filled the air. No, it was different, but only a little. Again and again the weapon sounded off, a total of six times before the stallion’s ears were ringing too much for him to pay attention.

        He looked up and saw Taylor, clad in only cursory cold-weather clothing, rested on one knee as he held another of his cannons, this one sporting a level he threaded three fingers through; a small group of brass shells steamed in the snow as the barrel smoked, hot from repeated use. The bear had been taken down cleanly, from what Shining could see, and slid a good way after it dropped, killed by a shot through the mouth.

        “Ah thought bears hybernated during winter,” the stalker said rising from his position. “Wonder what woke ‘im up, huh?” he asked, looking to the stallion; he was grinning like he always seemed to be when he thought he had the advantage. “Remind me t’ ask ya about that light show in the morning.”

        “How did you find me out here?” Armor asked, glad for the help. Something had kept him from casting earlier, and it had nearly cost him his life. Maybe, and it was a very big maybe, having Taylor around wouldn’t be too bad, provided he had a good enough excuse for following him. “I thought you went to sleep.”

        “Ah told ya Ah’d help look for whoever it is yer looking for, and hoped ya’d stay the night and continue in the morning,” he grumbled, wincing as he put weight on the leg that he had leaned on while kneeling; his opposite ankle was in similar condition. “Mountains ain’t so friendly after dark, ya know?”

        “I do now,” Shining replied, unsure what to think. Honestly, charging bears were one thing, but stalkers like Taylor were another entirely; he had to come from somewhere, meaning that there had to be other stalkers somewhere out there, and they may not be so friendly, if this one could be counted as friendly to begin with. “That was a nice save, by the way.”

        “Not my best,” Taylor said, shrugging as though the stallion would understand. He chuckled as he slipped a few pointed bits of brass into the weapon’s underside, before dropping the lever and expelling another spent case. “Oh, and don’t tell the game warden about this; killing bears is kinda illegal around here.”

        “Didn’t you hit me with something meant for bears to knock me out?” Armor asked, tilting his head to the side as the stalker approached the corpse. With a quick nudge of his foot, Taylor knocked the bear’s body over to inspect the damage, admiring his own work.

        “Didn't think ya’d appreciate me taking the time to pump up the air gun,” he answered, slinging the cannon over his shoulder. He seemed tense, eyes darting at every shadow, but in good enough a mood to keep from being too jumpy. “‘sides, used the last dart on ya this morning.”

        “Guess you’re not prepared for everything, huh?” Armor asked, trotting up to the dead bear Taylor was busying himself with. Both the stalker’s arms flew back with a wet popping noise and a long dribble of steaming blood. The stallion looked at the prize his newfound ally clutched in his hand in disgust. “Did you just rip out its teeth?”

        “Just the canines; owe a buddy o’ mine a couple after Ah lost a bet.” Taylor jumped up, wincing at the still-numb foot, and grinned. “About time for some shut eye, yeah?”