Chapters The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Barlent
Captain Barlent entered the telegraph shack, removing his dark grey officer's cap. For a rat, Barlent was rather on the tall side, standing a few inches over most of his crew. Unfortunately, that was the only positive trait he had going for him; his brown fur was in ailing condition, his whiskers were bent, a part of his left ear had been lost, and so had the last quarter of his tail. All I need now is a hook hand and a peg leg to look the most fitting in my line of work, thought Barlent, with a slight smile. But he subdued it the moment his eyes met with the rats in the room. This was no time for fooleries.
“Welcome, Captain.” said the commander of the telegraph outpost, standing up and saluting from his tiny desk. Barlent saluted back halfheartedly. The heat of the tropics sapped his energy. Such was the cost of service, though. “I take it you're not just stopping by for repairs, sir?”
“Correct.” Barlent told the commander, folding his arms behind his back. “We've been at sea for two months.” Their last stop to replenish our stores and release prisoners had been in Hleowstede, a griffon colony just above the northern tropics. “What news from Hivald?”
“Hmm... Just a moment, sir.” The commander went over to a cabinet, and shuffled through the reports within. “Do you want the short version, or long?”
“Short, if you'd please.”
“The situation at home remains unchanged since you left port.” said the commander, looking apologetic.
“Ah...” Barlent frowned. Everything had been going so right, until the Equestrian embargo, and the meddling of the zebras. But nothing ever remained right for long, as history showed him.
“However, we have received new mission orders for you.” The commander handed over a folder. “Our instructions were to give you this as soon as you arrived.”
“Thank you, commander.” Barlent said, putting back on his cap. “I'll be with my ship.” He left the little shack, following the covered cable down to the shore of the atoll. It slipped into the ocean, and hundreds of miles away, emerged again on the continent. RHS Sable , their three-masted windjammer, was propped up just above the high tide line. The bare nature of this atoll made the equatorial sun even worse than usual; his crew had removed the sails from their temporarily-beached vessel and stretched them between the gunwales and the sand as they scrubbed the parasites off the Sable 's hull. Even her cargo had been piled up on the shore, the loot of a dozen merchant ships they'd come across in their five-month mission.
“Looks like they had something for you, sir.” said Major Torner, his executive officer who had been waiting outside the telegraph shack. Torner was more of an average-sized rat, grey furred like many of those from his tribe.
“New orders.” Barlent replied, opening the folder. He inhaled sharply, not quite believing what he saw at the top of the paper. “Direct from the Tetrarchy itself, rather than the Admiral...” That was certainly something.
“What could the Tetrarchs possibly want with lowly raiders like us?” wondered Torner. Barlent read on in silence.
“We're to sail north, and detain any ship leaving the isle of Saint Garnet.” the Captain said grimly.
“Saint Garnet?” Torner asked, sounding dismayed. “That's a part of the Equestrian Crown... We're not at war with them too, now, are we?”
“No, we aren't. We will be when this is through, I'll wager. Intelligence reports that there is going to be a certain Doctor Caballeron leaving the isle within a week. We're to bring him back to the homeland, alive. Use whatever means necessary to acquire him, no matter the cost.” Barlent flicked his tail, furrowing his brow. “Assisting us will be the privateer barque Adventurer and the auxiliary cruiser Alarm . And that's it. There's nothing else here but the signature of all four Tetrarchs.”
“Privateers...” Torner snorted, and spat on the sand. “I know of Adventurer 's exploits, they're a wild bunch; tribeless outcasts and exiles. They're the kind who give the rest of us a bad reputation.”
“Please, Torner, we're rats. That's our lot in life. What does it matter if our reputation in the eyes of outsiders drops a little further?” Barlent stroked his whiskers, and changed the subject. “Have you ever heard of this Caballeron before? His name stirs my memory, but...”
“Caballeron? Well, he's probably an Equestrian.” The captain raised an eyebrow. “Obviously he is, of course. And perhaps dangerous one at that, I imagine, if the Tetrarchs are sending three raiders to find him.” Torner too frowned.
“Perhaps so...” said Barlent. “But as long as we don't encounter the Princess's fleet, we should come out of this fine. We have an experienced and well-disciplined crew, a swift ship, and as always, the element of surprise. If I'm worried about anyone, it'd be those privateers, and green sailors on Alarm . Equestria has been at peace so long they probably don't know the difference between pirate and privateer, and would hang the crew of Adventurer. Not that anything of value would be lost. As for Alarm... I know her captain, he's a good rat, but it's his crew who are likely to make a mistake.”
“And in such a delicate situation as boarding a neutral ship to find a foreign national to abduct...” The major sighed. “I don't see that going well, Captain. For all our sake's, let's hope it's us who finds this pony first. Even if it is, this is still a bad idea on a supremely grand scale.” Barlent nodded along. It was a moment before Torner spoke again. “What's our quarrel with this Caballeron, though? Is this because of the embargo?”
“All I know is what I read to you. The Tetrarchs want him in their hands, and it's our job to get him. It's not our job to question orders.” stated Captain Barlent, closing the folder and tucking it in his coat. “We have two days to get Sable fixed up, and then we're sailing for Saint Garnet. We'll have this Caballeron, even if we have to bring Equestria into the war against us too.”
Torner sighed, looking helplessly to the north.
“Hail Hivald.” he said.
Author's Note
The chase begins, and so does our story. John Hood writes a romance, and a crack shipping at that, too. Should be interesting to see how this goes...
This is my entry to the Straight Shipping Group's Romance Amidst Adversity contest. May Allah, most gracious and most merciful Lord of the Worlds, strike down those intolerant homophobic bigots.
Big shout-out to Pigeonsmall , who not only gave me the original idea to do this, but who has since supplied many more ideas and solutions to plot-holes that have found their way into the plot.
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Coco
The island of Saint Garnet was a paradise for those ponies wealthy enough to afford a visit and stay there. It was a sleeping volcano, true, but it was situated well within the northern tropics. The water was a clear blue, the sands were white, the jungle verdant, the sky vast and open. In the town of Fort Fairweather, the buildings were all brightly colored, in pinks, yellows, greens, and oranges.
Every window was open, the awnings were rolled out, and curtains drawn back. Crates of produce and raw sugar were piled up on the docks, waiting to be loaded to an old freighter; while a steamer sat waiting to take her passengers back to Equestria. The air was salty, sweet, and bore a hint of woodsmoke. Just another pleasant day in a pleasant land.
Alas, it was Coco Pommel's last evening in Fort Fairweather. The sun was starting to set, and she was enjoying the view from the pier. After her new-found friend, Rarity, had gotten her that stint making costumes for big-time plays, Coco's fortunes had only gone up. It had been Rarity's idea that she take a vacation to Saint Garnet in the winter; it was a wonderful break from the dreary grey skies of Manehatten.
It was also a wonderful way to spend some of her new paycheck. If she had been told last winter that in one year's time, she'd be relaxing on Saint Garnet instead of getting coffee and slaving away for her wretched boss, Coco would have laughed. Or cried. Maybe both.
But those days had passed. Now Coco was her own mare, and was it ever good! Sure, she had more publicity to deal with; but there was no such thing a bad publicity, they said. For now, she was obscure, but her name’s weight would grow in the fashion world. Coco couldn't help but smile to herself. Yes, times were good indeed.
As she was walking, Coco noticed a poster tacked to a telegraph pole. NOTICE! it read, Travelers intending to embark on any voyage to the southerly seas are reminded that a state of war exists between the the Republic of Hivald and the Kingdom of Cania and her allies; that the zone of war includes waters adjacent to Cania; that in accordance with formal notice given by the Tetrarchy, vessels flying the flag of Cania or of any of her allies are liable for detention, confiscation, or destruction in those waters and travelers sailing in the war zone on ships of Cania or her allies do so at their own risk. -The Embassy of the Republic of Hivald.
“How sad...” sighed Coco, shaking her head at the poster. She wondered why the dogs of Cania were fighting the rats of Hivald. Never had she met one of either realm or race, and that was likely to remain so. But Princess Celestia did not start any trouble with other countries; perhaps it was her one thousand years of wisdom, perhaps it was due to Equestria just being a more advanced culture. It was rare for Equestrian diplomacy to fail.
The troubles of distant lands she'd never visit slipped out of Coco's mind quickly. She was more interested in the various stalls merchants had set up along the piers, selling and hawking their exotic wares. Local fruits, raw and refined sugar, spices of every variety, from cloves to nutmeg, and things from further beyond: woodwork from the Griffon Kingdom of Frithland, clocks and pocket watches from the dogs of Cania, uncut gemstones supposedly formed in dragonfire from the legendary Halls of Corthunien. To a young mare who had never set hoof more than a few dozen miles from home before this week, it was all exhilarating.
Coco stopped at a silk merchant's stall. He had quite an array of goods. It wouldn't hurt to get some new materials, thought she.
“Good evening!” said the merchant, a blue unicorn with round-lensed spectacles. Like all the locals, his speech had an accent to it, far more laid back than anyone at home sounded. “What might you be looking for?”
“I'm not entirely sure,” Coco admitted, “but I work in Manehatten as a designer. Show me something eye-catching, if you’d please.”
“Ah, I have plenty of that. ” the merchant said. He brought up a square of purple cloth. “I don't have the full roll here, but I do have this sample. I believe this was made by the same guild that tailors to the High King of the Griffons. It's very high quality, whatever you make from this will last more than a few years.”
“It certainly is nice.” nodded Coco. “But purple is a bit... Well, somepony I worked for tried purple a few months ago, it didn't go so well. What else do you have?” The merchant went through white, green, and blue silks, before levitating up a roll of vibrant red.
“This here comes from beyond the Thither Shore!” he whispered. “Well, not exactly. The silk came from beyond the Thither Shore, they tell me, but it was dyed and woven somewhere else before finding its way to me.”
“The Thither Shore?” asked Coco. “I thought that was forbidden to ponies?”
“So it is, but it wasn't a pony who sold me this. It was a griffon.” stated the merchant, smiling slyly. “He said it was made from the silk of spiders. Big ones, too.”
“Goodness!” Coco raised a hoof and leaned back a little. “Do those really exist?”
“Of course!” exclaimed the merchant. He brought up a large fang from under his stall, the size of her muzzle, if not bigger. “He gave me this to prove that this silk really did come from a giant spider. Or a dozen.”
Coco shuddered as she imagined how big the rest of the spider would have been. “Point taken...” She took a moment to think. It was a beautiful shade of red he had here... And it was certainly exotic. Spider-silk clothes line... Why not? She had the coin. “I'll buy it. The whole roll.”
“You've made a wise choice, my friend!” the merchant stated, grinning.
It was an awkward trip back to her hotel; she had to balance the silk roll over her saddlebags and back the whole way. The issue of keeping the silk on balance was enough that she didn't notice the stallion who came around the corner right in front of her until it was too late. He apparently didn't notice either, because he seemed quite confused as to how he ended up on the ground with a roll of silk on him.
“Oh no, I'm terribly sorry!” Coco rushed forward to help the dusty-brown stallion up. He had a short but wavy grey mane, and a bit of shadow over his lower jaw. His cutie mark was very unusual , a golden skull of some kind of ape, with a ruby in one socket. What did it mean?
“The fault is mine, Miss.” the stallion said. For a moment, she thought he was a local, given the fact he had an accent. But he had the wrong accent, Coco noted, as she helped him to his hooves. She couldn't put a hoof on where it came from, as she'd never heard anything quite like it before. “I'm getting clumsy in my old age, I fear!” he laughed, brushing off his well-worn khaki jacket. A hole! Coco gasped.
“You've torn your jacket!” she exclaimed.
“Hmm? Oh, that. No matter.” It was like he didn't even care how he looked. Well, any stallion that wore a red bandana with white polka-dots around his neck probably didn't care. “What's your name, Miss? I'm Caballeron. Doctor Caballeron, to be proper.” A doctor? He must work at the local hospital, then.
“I'm Coco Pommel.” answered she, offering a hopeful smile. “I might not fix ponies, but I can fix your jacket, if you'd like. I'd hate to be the cause of you going around looking like a rustic.”
“I don't fix ponies either, Miss Pommel.” the doctor laughed again. “I just hold a doctorate in archeology. I'm certainly no physician... I've probably hurt more ponies than healed in my time.”
“Oh.” Coco said, feeling suddenly rather silly for making such an assumption.
“My kind of work often takes one up against... unsavory competitors, let's put it that way. As to your offer...” Coco was sure it must have been strange to have a random pony offer her sewing services at the drop of a roll of silk, but she couldn't just walk away after causing such havoc! “Why not? Never turn down anything free, I've always said.”
“You won't regret it!” Coco stated, standing up straighter. “I'm a designer, from Manehatten, I do this for a living. Your jacket will be in good hooves with me.”
Author's Note
Yes, this is exactly what it looks like. Now, why was Coco so willing to offer a total stranger her skills in clothes-mending? They met literally a moment ago. Well, folks, you'll just have to wait for the next chapter. And Rarity's generosity must have left a big impression on her, too.
Updates coming... Every few days? Every week? I'm half done with this as it is, but the contest deadline is April 30th. We'll see. For my loyal followers, Across the Sea will return once this is done.
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Caballeron
It was an odd situation he'd gotten himself into. Perhaps it was showing of his life that he found this odd, and not any of his escapades involving magical artifacts and dangerous creatures. There he had been, enjoying the town before he left tomorrow, when that little cream-colored mare ran straight into him.
Caballeron wasn't quite sure how she managed to knock him over when he was bigger and taller than she; the roll of red cloth she had might have contributed to it, on top of his wandering mind. Regardless, now she was insisting that she fix the holes in his cherished jacket she mistakenly believed she had damaged.
“A Manehatten designer, are you?” repeated Caballeron, as Miss Pommel picked up her roll of cloth. She had the cutie mark to go with such an occupation, a stylish purple hat with a red feather. “How did you end up on Saint Garnet?”
“A friend suggested I take a vacation; it is winter back home, after all.” Pommel said. True enough, her fur had a bit more fluff to it than the locals' own coats. Caballeron had been away from Equestria for so long that he forgot the seasons were reversed in the southern hemisphere,and that most ponies from home would have their winter coats grown in right now. Maybe it's the seasons that are backwards up here? wondered Caballeron,in a moment of philosophical pursuit. “How about you?” asked the mare. “What's an archaeologist doing in a small town like this?”
“I've been working my own way home over the past few weeks. I'm leaving tomorrow, actually. Perhaps you noticed a steamer at the docks?” said Caballeron.
“I saw a few freighters come and go this week, though I admit I haven't been paying attention to them. I'm leaving tomorrow as well, on the Platinum though. ” replied Pommel.
“How very lucky.” he commented. That was a high-class liner for high-class ponies; not the biggest ship in the sea, but certainly one of the most expensive and comfortable. He'd been on her before, if only to meet with a client.
“Well, my work does pay well. Well enough that I can afford a stay at the big hotel here. You know the one, right?” She pointed to the tall building some distance away, a splendidly baroque structure. Caballeron nodded, feeling a tinge of regret that he couldn't afford such a lodging at the moment. He hadn't been able to for a while. “Are you staying there too?”
“No, too rich for my blood, if not my soul.” said he, sighing.
“Ah...” Pommel looked away. “I guess I assumed a doctor would be able to afford it.”
“Once, maybe. Money has been an issue as of late; I'm a victim of theft, you see.”
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
Caballeron wasn't too eager to explain more, though. First of all, he was not ready to share his recent and unlikely strokes of luck that had followed in the wake of the most recent “theft.” Second of all, in reference to the former “theft,” he had an unspoken agreement with that wretched Daring Do mare: neither blew the other's cover, even if he continually foiled her self-righteous quests, and she continually foiled his retirement plans.
When the occasional pony realized he shared a name with her nemesis, he merely said he was an acquaintance of “A. K. Yearling” who had let her use his name. There'd been a time when Daring Do herself was forced to use that excuse. There's a grain of truth there; we are acquaintances, technically speaking. Oh, if only that trouble-maker had two ounces of foresight and just used another name for him in her blatant propaganda and ego-tripping! Caballeron snorted in disdain.
“Did I say something wrong?” Pommel asked, looking worried.
“What?” Right, the snort, he realized. “No, that wasn't directed at you, I just had a memory of my antagonists.”
“Well, come with me, Doctor; I can get that jacket looking almost as good as new.” said Pommel, leading him to the baroque hotel. It had been two years since he was here last, not much had changed though. He even recognized some of the staff inside the opulent lobby. “I do like this place,” said the little mare, “but it is a bit expensive. At least by my former standards.”
“I know exactly what you mean.” Caballeron nodded. “Where are you from, Miss Pommel? I noticed you used the term rustic earlier. That's not exactly a common phrase.”
“It isn't?” asked Pommel. She tilted her head at him. “That's just what we call our tenants back home. My family owns land about twenty miles outside of Manehatten.”
“Well, that'd explain it. You're from the landed nobility!” exclaimed Caballeron. He was about to ask her what house her family descended from, he knew them all, but... Miss Pommel was an earth pony, just like him. Manehatten fell within the ancient borders of the petty kingdom of Eastmarch, a pegasus realm... Earth ponies like Pommel would have been the rustics, not the landowners. There must have been an interesting story behind that.
“I wouldn't go that far.” objected Pommel, glancing away. “My great-great-great-grandfather was a knight, so we just happen to get paid rent by all the farmers around our house.” She had the nerve to look embarrassed!
“That's certainly more than I can say.” Caballeron replied, recalling his own family. He would have been among the tenants, rather than among the landowners, to say the least.
Miss Pommel and he were going up the main staircase, when she suddenly stopped. “Do you see the mare in the sunhat?” she whispered.
“Yes-”
“She doesn't like how you look.” continued she. “She probably thinks your jacket is unclean.”
“How can you tell that?” whispered Caballeron back. It was kind of dirty, after weeks spent on a ship, but surely it wasn't that bad?
“After a few years working with the ponies I've worked with, I just know. It's the way they raise their noses ever so slightly when you go by, the way they they speak in double-meanings, the way they look down at you like you're a lesser creature...” said Pommel, a bitter tinge in her voice. For a moment, there was a flash of resentment on her face, but it faded quickly. “Anyways, I think we should get that washed before I do anything with it.”
“You might run into one of them in the future... You wouldn't want to be remembered as that mare who dares to call herself a designer and yet sullied her hooves with a supposedly dirty piece of work.” deduced Caballeron. From a certain point of view, that seemed very petty. But Caballeron had been around long enough to know that a little reputation went a long way in some professional fields. “I agree. Looks like I'll have to find a-”
“No need to find anything, Doctor!” Pommel interrupted. “We can just give it to the laundry mares here, I can even pay for it myself. When they're done with it, I can do my work and get it back to you.”
“That could be hours.” he said. “And it's already sunset. You'd have to keep it over night.”
“I would.” admitted Pommel, putting a hoof on her chin. “But as long as I get it back to you before either of us leaves, that shouldn't be an issue, right?”
Caballeron look up at the lobby's clock. It was already quarter to six in the evening, the light would be gone in half an hour. Did he trust this mare enough to leave her with his jacket for a night? He'd had it for twenty years, and even if it had been a cheap thing he'd only bought for the pocket space. It was strange how Miss Pommel seemed so insistent to provide this service, too.
But... She was rich enough to afford a trip to Saint Garnet; in the future, she might be rich enough to afford his own services. Perhaps she knew his profession and was hoping that he'd cut her a better deal in the future. Perhaps he could use this opportunity to make an inroad to the Manehatten elite, an entirely new market. If that was the game she was playing, then he could play one of his own right back. It was a calculated risk.
“No, it shouldn't be.” said Caballeron, as if he hadn't taken several moments to think out the situation.
“Good!” Miss Pommel said, beaming eagerly. She seems genuine, though; did I miscalculate her ambition? Did she even have any, or was a pony actually being this honestly nice? Caballeron gave over his jacket to the laundry mares, giving it a final worried glance before it was out of his hooves. “I'll work on it tonight before I go to bed, it shouldn't take too long.” She obviously hadn't taken a closer look... Oh well.
“I'm glad to hear it.” They left the building and entered onto the hotel grounds. Darkness was growing in the east, the west was stained pink and gold. It was still very warm, but most ponies were ending their days. Caballeron was intending to do the same. But he had one more thing to discuss: “I must ask, what has driven you to such an act of kindness, and so insistently? I'm a total stranger to you… I find it a most curious thing.” Miss Pommel looked thoughtful.
“For a while, I was actually convinced that the only way to get ahead in life was fight my way to the top. That's why my former boss said, at least.” sighed Pommel, before brightening again. “But, with some help from a friend, my mind was changed back. Generosity is a strength of its own. It's a far greater power than selfishness.”
Caballeron suppressed an urge to give her an incredulous look. “That's a very... brave outlook, Miss Pommel.” he told her, as politely as he could.
“I know. There'll be those who take advantage of that, but most of us are good at heart.” the little mare smiled on, looking hopefully at the sky. “It's just a matter of reaching out to that better nature of ours, to make the world a little better. And what better way than through kindness?”
That was the most adorably naive thing Caballeron had ever heard. Somepony's spent a bit too much time with the sun cultists, it seems. “I guess the world does need its idealists.” said he, wanting to tell her that wasn't how game was played. “Life philosophies aside; where and when you intend to return my jacket before we part ways tonight? My ship sails at high noon.”
“Oh, that shouldn't be a problem.” Pommel replied. “How about I meet you in front of the bank at nine? My ship leaves at nine-thirty, so that should be plenty of time for me to get there.”
“That sounds good to me. I'll be seeing you then, Miss Pommel. Don't be late.” he said jokingly. Miss Pommel nodded vigorously, before bidding him a good night.
Caballeron began his walk back, he felt completely exposed without his jacket. This must have been what poor ponies without fur felt like... He made his way back through town, reflecting on the strange turn of events that had befallen him today. But it was a nice turn of events, at least. For all Miss Pommel's incredible optimism, she'd been a pleasant pony to deal with; it was the first time in months he walked away from any kind of deal with a good feeling about it.
Unfortunately, that good feeling faded as he got closer and closer to his second-rate inn. That same unease which had been upon him all week set in again. The inn wasn't what caused it, though; the place was perfectly fine, if a bit lacking in flare. Caballeron made his way through bare-walled halls to his shabby room, and set his eyes upon the container of his discontent.
It was a dark iron chest, elegant in shape and style, sat in a corner by itself. It was short in height, but long, with three latches upon it. None had locks. Strange letters ran across the chest, etched into the metal itself. They had been spells of sealing, most likely, but they were long broken. Caballeron knew he shouldn't open the chest. Yet, his hoof reached out, and lifted the top up to see it:
The Horn of the Damned.
It was as long as his torso, formed from a smooth black material, like some kind of deeply charred ivory. Bands of the same bleak iron sank their fangs into it, bearing the same strange inscriptions. Faint channels spiraled about its surface; their purpose entirely lost on him. The more he looked at the Horn, the more anxious he got. It was not like the other artifacts he had recovered. It watched him, as much as he watched it; it knew he was there, as much as he knew it was before him. And it spoke now, in his dreams, whispering in tongues dead for a thousand years.
Many artifacts and locations had eerie names, that provoked a sense of mystery and wonder, like the Spectral Trident or Stair of Destiny. The Horn was just another one in that list. He expected just to find some old horn that made half-formed and out-of-tune notes. Instead he got this, a horn that couldn't even make a peep, and yet talked to him in a way he couldn't even understand.
And that was not to mention the strange twists of chance which had befallen him ever since he had taken the Horn. There was his escape from Timar in the south, where the entire world seemed to be on his side for once. There were the swift winds which helped Nutmeg take him north.
But when he made for the next part of his journey, to Frithland in search of a griffon history, his first ship had caught on fire before he was even on board, and the second ship cracked her boiler right as he walked up to the dock. Would the same misfortunes befall Nutmeg tomorrow?
Caballeron closed the chest. Darkness fell over the isle of Saint Garnet; ponies went to bed and the moon ascended. What's going on? he asked himself, as he removed his bandanna from around his neck, tossing it on the bedside table. There was no logical answer. Caballeron was long used to magical items, dealing with the creatures he did in the places he went, but this was the first one that had ever seemed to be directing his fate to a specific place. It was the first one that had ever spoken to him.
As he lay down in his bed, he wondered: what was happening? Why? Was this the work of the Horn or some greater power? Was it toying with him, waiting to send him to the bottom of the ocean after letting him believe he could get home safely? All these thoughts set him on edge, and the seeds of doubt stirred in his heart. Caballeron wished he had stayed out a little longer. He wished he had talked to that Pommel girl for a few minutes more. Anything was better than laying here looking into the unknowing abyss.
The dream brought the smell of iron on a cold wind, as the letters on the horn danced around him. It whispered many things, and a shadow loomed up behind him. He turned to face something terrible, and the Horn wailed.
Author's Note
Following Rarity's examples a little strongly there, aren't you Coco? I hope you realize you've stepped out of Friendship is Magic... Those last few paragraphs should give that away. Just because dark isn't a tag doesn't mean everything is sunshine and flowers; just watch the G1 pilot for proof.
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Coco
Rays of sun poked at her eyes, making her blink blearily. I stayed up too late working on that jacket, Coco thought through the haze of morning grogginess. Who knew that thing had so many loose buttons on top of the hole? She couldn't help thinking she was missing something, too. Was it a button she forgot? No, Coco was missing something else. Something like...
The alarm clock!
Coco bolted up, throwing the covers off herself, and found the clock facing her, with no alarm set. It read nine-twenty-two in the morning. She didn't need to check her ticket to know her ship left at nine-thirty. Horror set in. No, no, no, this wasn't happening! Not to her! The minute hand ticked to nine-twenty-three.
Okay, so this was happening to her.
Coco glanced around in a panic. What was she going to do? Her luggage was packed and ready to go, but she'd never be able to get it to the dock in seven minutes. And she still had Caballeron's jacket here! She had to get that back to him, twenty three minutes ago!
The hotel could just ship this back to me, right? Coco asked herself, turning away from her red suitcase. She grabbed the archaeologist's jacket, stuffed it in her saddlebags, threw them on and ran out the door. There was a close call involving the cleaning staff's cart in the hall, but she managed to get down the stairs and out of the lobby without colliding with anypony. The bank they had agree to meet at was on the corner of the town square, only a few blocks from her hotel. At this early hour, the streets were rather empty, so Coco ran as fast as she could.
The square was nearly empty, except for a few locals out on business. Above, the bank's clock tower struck nine-thirty, sharp; the little bells ringing out half their tune. There was no sign of Caballeron. “Oh no...” said Coco, catching her breath while nearly spinning around in her effort to see if she could catch even a glimpse of him. Not only was her ship leaving this very moment, but now she had accidentally stolen a stallion's coat she had promised to return! Her throat felt tight, her stomach fluttered. Rarity never runs into problems like this when she tries to do something nice!
In a desperate act, Coco turned to a nearby mare that was opening the door of a shop for business. “Excuse me,” she asked, “you haven't seen a brown stallion with a red bandana around his neck here earlier, have you?”
“Hmm?” the mare thought to herself. “Ah, you must be who he was standing around for. He left a few minutes ago, down that way.” She pointed towards the docks. Coco didn't even thank her, she was already off running again. The sea was just a hundred yards away when she caught sight of him.
“Doctor!” gasped Coco, sliding to a stop just as he was about to go into an inn. “Doctor Caballeron, I-” a fit of coughing interrupted. Her lungs were on fire, she could swear it.
“Miss Pommel?” Caballeron sounded surprised.
“I got your- I got-”
“Don't bother talking just yet,” sighed Caballeron. “Just sit down and take a moment before explaining yourself.” Coco could only nod, parking herself on the still-cool sidewalk. It'd been a long time since she had to run for ten minutes straight; it wasn't exactly expected of ponies in her field of work. At least it isn't hot out yet, she thought.
“I've got your jacket.” she finally said, more quietly than she intended to.
“I'm glad you managed to get it to me, I'd given up on waiting. But aren't you supposed to be...” Caballeron looked out to the harbor, and saw the Platinum 's stern retreating out to the open sea. “...there?”
“I...” Coco looked at her hooves, and made her confession. “I slept through my alarm. I guess I was up later than I realized... I got your jacket fixed, though.”
“Yes, I'm aware.” the doctor gave her a slightly-worried frown. “I suppose you'll be booking passage on a different ship now?”
“Yes... No... I don't know.” Coco felt her eyes watering up. “I don't have any money left. And I have to be back in Manehatten in six days to meet a client, and I have to be out of the hotel by noon now, and-”
“Easy,” urged Caballeron, “just calm down and breathe.” She did as told, wiping her eyes with a hoof. “Now, Miss Pommel, seeing as how you were kind enough to bring me my jacket instead of get to your ship, I feel I owe you a favor in turn. I could leave you stranded here,” Caballeron said, looking like he was seriously considering it, “but... No, you've been too good to me to warrant that. I'll take you to see the captain of the ship I'll soon be leaving on. I'm sure there's room for one more.”
“R-really?” Coco stammered, looking up at him. A ray of hope! “You'd do that?”
“Sometimes I surprise even myself.” he muttered, before nodding firmly. “Yes, sure. Let's go.”
“I can't even begin to thank you-”
“You thanked me by getting back a worthless piece of cloth I like to wear, Miss Pommel. No need for anything further.”
Before they went to see the captain, though, Coco asked if she could have breakfast; she hadn't the time to eat this morning, obviously. She had some toast in the inn, courtesy of Doctor Caballeron. For some reason, he was not as talkative as he was yesterday; he seemed rather tired. “Did you not sleep well?” Coco asked.
“The world of dreams is a strange one.” said Caballeron, frowning as he looked off into space. Coco didn't press the issue, despite how strange his answer was. When she finished her breakfast, Caballeron lead her back out to the docks. They wove through the hustle and bustle of porters and sailors; the archeologist pointed out a steamer.
“There she is,” he said, “the Nutmeg. ”
Coco's ears twitched back a little. “You're sailing in that? ” she asked, squinting at the black hull of the Nutmeg . The freighter had definitely seen better days: there were streaks of dirty red rust by her anchors, the paint was flaking off, some of the vent cowls were bent, and the funnel was dented in several places.
“She doesn't look like much, but she'll get us to Equestria in good order.” Caballeron said, confident. “It won't be my first time aboard for a voyage. The captain is a reliable stallion, who doesn't ask questions.”
“What do you mean by that?” It sounded like a line a character of ill-repute would speak in an adventure novel. Some of the mares she worked with read an adventure novel series; Coco couldn't recall the name.
“We archaeologists, especially ones who are willing to get their hooves dirty, usually have to be discreet in our means of travel. It's the best way to get valuables out of lawless lands.” explained the doctor. “We wouldn't want rumors of priceless artifacts guarded by a single stallion to be going around because of a careless speaker, would we?”
“I suppose not.” agreed Coco. It did make sense why one wouldn't want to be asked about their business in places that weren't as safe as Equestria. Not all lands were fortunate enough to have a stable authority.
“Come,” said Caballeron, “let us meet the captain.”
Luckily, the captain was not hard to find. He was a tall and well-built pegasus stallion, pale blue in coat and dark grey in mane; he wore a white cap with a gold anchor on it. When they found him, he was directing the loading of crates. “Ah! Doctor Caballeron!” he boomed, when he noticed the two approach. “You're early, my friend!”
“I'm not here to board yet, Captain Billet-” Caballeron said in a significantly less loud voice.
“Who's this?” the Captain interrupted, stepping towards Coco. “Don't tell me you've got a fillyfriend now, Cabal.” Caballeron's mouth twitched downward, just barely avoiding a frown. Coco didn't know if she should take his reaction as an insult, or just him being annoyed at the Captain.
“This is an acquaintance of mine who missed her own ship out.” said the Doctor.
“What's your name?” asked the Captain.
“I'm Coco Pommel.”
“Barnacle Billet!” the Captain nearly shouted in her face, taking flight so he could shake her hoof. “Damn glad to meet you. So, how can I help?”
“Well,” Coco took a moment to gather her thoughts. The morning's events still had her a little upset, but she put on her best calm. “As the Doctor here said, I'm afraid I missed my ship home. And I don't have a single bit left on me, either... He told me that you could help me, Captain Billet.”
“Call me Captain Bill. Or Barnacle Bill. Or just Bill.” said the excitable stallion, who was still shaking her hoof. Coco glanced at Caballeron, who could only give her a resigned look. “Cabal's right, though! I can certainly get you out of this predicament. There's plenty of room on the Nutmeg, and as long as you're willing to pull your fair share of work, we'd be glad to take you on as far as you want to go. What do you have to offer us?”
“I'm decent at sewing,” said Coco, noting that her hoof was still being shaken, “so if you've got anything that needs to be patched...”
“Don't be so humble, Miss Pommel.” Caballeron piped up. “You're an up-and-coming designer in Manehatten, so you said yesterday evening. That makes you far beyond decent.”
“I guess I am actually pretty good.” agreed Coco. She smiled even as she blushed a little. Even after months of recognition, it was still sometimes embarrassing to be complimented on her work. I should probably get used to that, she told herself, but she knew she wouldn’t.
“I'll take it!” said Captain Bill. “Welcome aboard, and be sure to show up here at a quarter till noon, or else you'll miss your second ship of the day.” He finally stopped shaking her hoof, and flew off to continue directing crates. Coco pulled her foreleg close to her, just in case he came back.
“He's got a very big personality.” she noted. In the future, she'd look out for him. He seemed like a perfectly friendly pony, but even friendliness had a limit. Some ponies just don’t know what personal space is...
“That's for certain.” Caballeron grumbled. “You get used to it, though. I've found him reliable, despite his... boisterousness.”
The two agreed to meet at Nutmeg 's berth at eleven-thirty, just to be safe. Coco went back to her hotel, took her luggage, and checked out. It was an ordeal to get it all to the docks, but she arrived even earlier than planned. She met Nutmeg 's quartermaster, Forestay; the second mate, Shoal Spar; and the two cooks, Jig and Brig. Apparently, two cooks were better than one. There were some other sailors present, but Coco didn't get their names, they were busy loading the last of the cargo.
Cabelleron showed up sharply at a quarter till noon, just as told. All he had with him was a long box, which he had put on a little trolley to push around. It was the strangest suitcase Coco had ever seen, being entirely made of metal and without any locks at all. Her eyes lingered on it, before Captain Bill emerged from the ship.
“Come on up, everypony, we'll be casting off soon!” he ordered.
“I'll be good not to have to watch my back for once.” said the archaeologist, giving a weary look to his metal box as he pushed it up the gangplank and onto the deck. “You never know what you'll miss until it's gone. But with luck, we'll be back in no time.”
“I sure hope so.” agreed Coco. She had to wonder why Caballeron was watching his back, but that was a question for another day.
Nutmeg set out at noon, just as planned. Coco breathed a sigh of relief. Having come so close to disaster, she was homeward bound after all.
Author's Note
Nutmeg looks like in my mind. Yes, those are indeed auxiliary sails.
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Caballeron
Nutmeg steamed out of Saint Garnet without any problems. The first time Caballeron had ever been aboard, they'd managed to blow a valve in the engine room after three hours and had to raise the auxiliary sails to get back to the port they'd just left. Needless to say, Captain Billet had gotten a new engineer. One who didn't spend all his bits on rum. They didn't get blown valves anymore, at least on the times Caballeron had sailed with them since.
It had been four hours now, and everything was in order. Miss Pommel had been put in the cabin next to his, no doubt much smaller and barer than the one she had reserved for the ship she was supposed to be one. He wondered just what was in those suitcases of hers, though.
As soon as Caballeron had deposited the troublesome Horn in his cabin, he went back up to the covered portion of the deck. It stretched from under the wheelhouse and around the funnel, before opening up again to the aft deck. There wasn't any seating like there'd be on a passenger liner, but Caballeron was content to just stand at the railing and look astern at the slowly-vanishing green of Saint Garnet to the northeast.
Hold on, thought he, something isn't quite right... He heard hooves on the wooden planks behind him, and turned to greet his visitor. Just as he expected, it was Miss Pommel. Briefly, Caballeron wondered why she was coming to talk to him again, but then it occurred to him that he was the only pony she knew on this entire ship.
“This crew is certainly an interesting bunch.” she commented.
“I take it you've met a few of them?”
Pommel nodded. “The quartermaster, the second mate, and the cooks. Why do the need two cooks, anyway?”
“The Captain is an interesting stallion.” said Caballeron. He looked again at Saint Garnet, before getting back to what he was saying. “If he thinks this ship needs two cooks, then by Celestia, it will have two cooks.”
“Well, if you trust his judgment, then I will too.” she stated, placing a hoof firmly on the deck as a sign of her finality. Caballeron pointed out that she hadn't even known him twenty-four hours, but all Miss Pommel said to that was: “I'm stuck on this ship until we get to Equestria. I'd rather trust you than not on this voyage.”
He could see the logic in that, as dangerous as it was. But he didn't have any ill-intent towards her, right? This little mare was in no danger here, as foolish as some of her notions were.
A third pony then joined them, coming down the stairs leading to wheelhouse. “Welcome back, Doctor.” said Shoal Spar, the second mate of the ship.
“Hello, Mister Spar.” said Caballeron coolly. It wasn't that he didn't like the green pegasus, he had a healthy respect for him; but it was just that the two of them had never really seen eye-to-eye on everything. “Would you mind informing me on our present course? I can't help but notice we seem to be headed due west instead of northwest...”
“We are?” Pommel asked, finally noticing what he had kept glancing at while they spoke.
“Yes, Miss Pommel.” said Spar. “The Captain got a telegram a few hours ago from a friend of ours in Adin. He's willing to cut us in on a big deal involving coffee grounds, if we can show up in time.” Caballeron felt his stomach sink.
“Adin?” he repeated. “That's down in Zebradom.”
“So it is. Consider it a detour. I know you had hoped to get home soon, but there's a profit to be made here.” All Caballeron could do was frown.
“But- but I need to be in Manehatten by the end of the week!” Miss Pommel protested, her ears going flat.
“We'll be raising the auxiliary sails soon.” Spar assured her. “Fate willing, we'll make Adin in three days, perhaps even two. And if this deal goes off as planned, we will be in Manehatten by the end of the week, just you want.”
Miss Pommel could only look worriedly at her hooves. “But I have a client to meet...” she said quietly.
“Put your trust in the winds, or find a god and start praying. As for me... I trust our Captain to meet the deadline.” With that, Spar departed for below decks. Caballeron gave Miss Pommel an apologetic look.
“I guess things are taking a turn against both of us.” he said. “If I had known Captain Billet intended to sail for Zebradom, I probably would have found a different ship for both of us.” Assuming one remained working long enough for him to even board. “But this was the only one leaving Saint Garnet for the next three days...”
“I understand.” Pommel sighed, in a resigned tone. “It's just... missing an important meeting because I woke up late isn't a good way to start my career.”
“On the bright side, we're still heading home. Eventually.”
True enough to Spar's word, the auxiliary sails were shortly raised on the two masts; square-rigged in the front, and rigged fore-and-aft in the back. For an old steamer, Nutmeg had a decent amount of speed to her. Caballeron didn't know exactly how fast they were going, knots just confused him; but he was able to see why Spar was so confident in their timing.
Unfortunately, his newest acquaintance was not so confident. Try as she might, Miss Pommel couldn't seem to get her mind off how upset she was about this detour. She eventually retired to her cabin early, after trying to talk with him for a few hours. Caballeron almost felt a tinge of guilt for getting her passage on Nutmeg, but even he hadn't know about Billet's intent to go to Zebradom. What could he have possibly done differently? At least they had a chance of making it to Manehatten in time. The next ship departing would not have made it in time for Miss Pommel's meeting.
That night, Caballeron ate in the mess with rest of the crew not on duty. “Alright, you wretches, gather 'round! We've got tomato soup tonight!” Brig yelled, standing over a large, steaming kettle.
“And biscuits too!” added in Jig.
Caballeron sat at the bench with two of the ponies he was starting to get to know after three voyages; Quartermaster Forestay and Engineer Sand Stratum. Forestay spoke first: “So, Doctor Caballeron, what quest are you on this time?”
“Off to battle Daring Do for some ancient relic?” laughed Sand Stratum.
“Every day I regret my decision to let that Yearling 'borrow'my name.” grumbled Caballeron. He did know these ponies, but he didn't consider them friends. Still, conversation was conversation. “She was a student of mine, when I was doing graduate work at Lithton University. How did I know that a belligerent young pegasus was actually going write those stories about her thinly-veiled self-insert, and that they'd be bestsellers?”
“I hope you learned your lesson.” replied Sand Stratum. “Never let anypony use your name. Or base a character on you, for that matter!”
“Not like you'd have anything to worry about there,” said Forestay to the engineer, “you're as boring as one of the good Doctor's rocks!”
“I'm an archaeologist , not a geologist.” Caballeron sighed, closing his eyes.
Sometimes he wondered how the truth hadn't been revealed. But then he realized, most readers of Daring Do's trash where simple ruffians like these two. A small nagging feeling told him he was probably going to have to confront Daring Do the moment he stepped hoof in Equestria again... Her absence in the past few months had been outstandingly noticeable.
After he finished dinner, Caballeron stuck around to watch a few chess games between the crew. Miss Pommel still did not show up. When the better part of half an hour had gone by, he began to consider going to check in on her. Only consider, though; Caballeron stayed to watch the chess matches to the end. Once back in his cabin after the excitement was over, he found himself facing the metal box. Going to see Miss Pommel was suddenly a very a good idea. He walked out, locking his cabin, and knocked on her door.
“You missed dinner. There might still be some left if you want any.” Caballeron said.
Pommel opened the door, and peeked out. “Thanks, but I'm not hungry.” she replied.
“Are you alright?”
“I'm worried,” said Pommel, eyes to the floor, “and I think I'm getting sick from all this worrying.”
“Ah... Yes, I've been there too. I think I still am.” Caballeron was about to leave her to her misery, but instead asked: “Would you like some company?” Anything is better than spending time with that accursed Horn, he thought.
Miss Pommel brightened up a little, and got a weak smile. “I would, actually.” She opened her cabin door further, and stepped out of the way to invite him in. Her room was well-maintained, she'd already gotten her personal effects out and arranged. For whatever reason, it always did seem like fashionable mares had more things to carry around than stallions like he. Caballeron didn't have a single mirror to his name. To be fair, it was expected for a designer to always look her best; unlike traveling archaeologists featured as villains in cheap train station novels written by self-righteous egomaniacs!
“What's haunting your mind, Miss Pommel?” asked Caballeron with a yawn, sitting down in the room's one chair. Pommel herself just sat on the edge of her bed.
“It's nothing you don't know already. I just have to meet that client of mine in six days. Otherwise, I lose my chance for the contract in question...” She squirmed about, looking unsure. “I hate the idea that I'm going to miss it, and hurt my credibility, just because I slept in this morning. And because your friend the Captain decided to go chasing after a few more bits.” That last sentence was spoken with more than a tinge of annoyance.
“Again, I apologize about that. If I had known...”
“It's okay, Doctor. You said it yourself, you didn't know.” Pommel paused for a moment, looking out the darkening porthole. “But still... this whole situation is terrible. And I can't get my mind off it.”
“I understand completely.” Caballeron nodded. “That box of mine has been giving my trouble for weeks now.”
“How does a box do that?” asked Pommel, scrunching her brow in bafflement. “It's just a box, right?”
“It's a bit of a story-”
“We're not going anywhere anytime soon, are we?” she interrupted. She wants a story, he realized. Why not? She was no thief, that was for sure.
“Fair enough.” he conceded. “I was somewhere... very far away. There was a big excavation going on, unearthing some ancient ruins. Just normal archaeologist stuff, for me. We found this... temple, let's call it that. And in the temple was the box you saw earlier today at the dock.”
What Caballeron didn't tell her, was that the box wasn't the only thing they found in there. The chamber was not a temple; it was a tomb. And in the tomb, surrounding the box, where the open caskets, sunken into the floor, of horrifying and decayed creatures. They had arms and armor, still pristine, while everything else had mummified or turned to dust long ago. Timar, his “partner” in the venture, had guessed that these were once the guardians of the tomb.
“Now, this box had no locks on it when we found it. We were able to see what was inside.” he said.
“What was it?” Pommel asked, leaning forward. Caballeron looked slyly around, and lowered his voice:
“You can keep a secret, right?” The other pony nodded quickly. “The Horn of the Damned.” he whispered.
“The Horn of the-?” He waved for her silence, shushing her.
“It's a secret! I'll tell you what the Horn is: it appears in the Frithish saga of a certain Vortimer, whose father ventured beyond the Thither Shore, with a hundred of his finest griffon warriors, and came back alone and dying. With him, he carried the Horn, and entrusted it to his son, who then went off to hide it again. The description in the saga matches what we found, exactly.” Pommel raised her hoof like she was in a history class.
“Are you telling me you've been to the Thither Shore?” she asked. Caballeron narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head.
“I am neither confirming nor denying that statement.” Pommel nodded in understanding; he could not legally answer yes so long as he was under Equestrian jurisdiction. As Nutmeg flew the banner of the Crown, he was definitely under jurisdiction. In actuality, Caballeron never had been there. He wasn't lying to Miss Pommel, he was just letting her make her own assumption. A little bit of mystery never hurt one’s reputation. “The griffon saga was called The Doom in the East , only two copies of it are in existence at the moment, and neither of them were in our possession. We only knew of it because we had a summary of it found in a saga of King Clothar, it made the Horn sound like a powerful artifact. However, we couldn't get so much as a single sound out of it; and considering what it is, we were perplexed.”
“Very strange.” commented Miss Pommel, now quite intrigued by his tale.
“Well, mysteries abound in my field. Not long after this, I became a victim of theft; which I mentioned last evening, didn't I? Yes, I believe I did. And the thieves were my own so-called partners! They betrayed me so that they could take the artifact and sell it to the highest bidder elsewhere!” He had been planning to run off with the Horn to do the same; Timar and his rats had just struck first. Miss Pommel didn't need to know little details like that. “Luckily, I escaped them through a series of very fortunate accidents.”
“Really...” Pommel said, ears pricked forward in interest.
“How it happened isn't important, but it was an highly unlikely escape. When I arrived in Saint Garnet, I decided to seek out the griffon High King's loremasters for more information about the artifact. Nutmeg set out for Hleowstede to get a rum shipment-”
“Where?”
“It's the most southerly griffon colony. While they went off, I waited a day to get on my own ship headed up to Frithland, where I could then travel to the High King’s realm. But as I approached to board the new ship, the police and firefighters cleared out the docks; my ship had a fire in her coal bunkers! On the next day, I went to visit another ship to sign on for passage, and do you know what happened to her? A boiler cracked wide open; it'd take weeks to get her fixed up.”
“That explains the two ships that were just sitting in the corner of the harbor.” Miss Pommel noted.
“That it does. Extraordinarily bad luck impeded my next part of the journey, just as extraordinarily good luck helped me start it.” He looked at where the Horn was on the other side of the wall. “There's something more at work here than a mere artifact, Miss Pommel. That's what's got me worried. It's why I didn't sleep well last night, I worried that something was going to happen to Nutmeg . Or still might.” Pommel cringed at the thought, before doing another one of her uncertain smiles.
“I guess I have something else to haunt me now.” she said.
“I'm afraid so.” But that wasn't the full story, of course. Caballeron never told the full story, to anypony. He didn't tell her that he was convinced the Horn was trying to talk to him, and that it was pushing him in a path he could not see the next step of. “I only had good fortune on the Nutmeg earlier, so I hope that'll hold up. We had strong winds a fortnight ago that brought us to Saint Garnet in record time.”
“Maybe I'll try to contact a weather god.” Pommel laughed. “Do you know any?”
“Quite a few, actually. But they are fickle things, it is best to place your faith the Captain and his crew.” Caballeron yawned again, which made Miss Pommel yawn too.
“Looks like it's time to sleep for both of us.” she said. Then she got a sheepish look. “Though, I think my appetite has returned... Do you think the galley has anything left?”
Caballeron sighed inwardly. She really could have said that earlier.
Author's Note
Caballeron's knack for not telling the whole truth may not be the most helpful trait in the future, don't you think? Regardless, we get some more information on that Horn, and the mention of Timar again. Who could he be?
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Coco
On her first night on Nutmeg, after convincing Jig and Brig it was a good idea to make her a late dinner, Coco invoked the wind spirit Caelum, and the sea god Noerthus. Coco didn't consider herself a religious or even a spiritual pony, but she really wanted to get to Adin, and fast. The less time they spent in Zebradom, the faster they'd get home.
She awoke to strong winds; Spar told her they'd come up during the night. I guess there are still powers listening to us mortals, Coco thought. Or perhaps it had to do with Caballeron, and his story of strange fortunes befalling him. Maybe, maybe not. “This is certainly unusual,” Spar had said, “but I won't complain.”
Whatever the truth was, the wind was on their side. Coco stepped onto the deck from under the wheelhouse, and was immediately buffeted by the warm wind. The auxiliary sails were at full, closely watched by the crew, and the funnel billowed smoke. She didn't stay outside long, the hot sun and hot air sweeping the ship did not mix well with her winter fur.
So, back down below-decks it was. Unfortunately, she didn't have much to do other than read some books she brought. One was a modernized retelling of an ancient tragedy of two star-crossed lovers, taking place entirely within the west side of Manehatten; word was that they were making it into a musical. The other was a romantic novel her friend Rarity had enjoyed very much, and recommended in a letter; she decided to give that a try. She read it for the better part of two hours before Coco started blushing furiously; she had discovered just why Rarity had liked it so much. Coco closed it quickly, and decided to do something else entirely.
In the mess hall, she found Captain Billet waiting on a mug of coffee. “It's only early afternoon, Captain.” Coco said to him.
“I fear I'm hooked, Miss Pommel!” Billet replied enthusiastically. “Hooked, like a pirate hook. Do you want some?”
“Oh, no. No thank you.” she refused, trying not to look repulsed. Memories of her ordeals with that horrible Suri came back. Some nights she lay awake and wondered why she had never quit sooner. “I can't stand coffee after having to deal with my last boss...”
“Fair enough.” And without even a pause, he launched into another subject entirely. “Where's that coltfriend of yours, anyway? I haven't seen him around all day.”
“It's not like that, Captain, I only met him yesterday-”
“You two were up pretty late last night, I heard from Jig.” Billet got a sly grin on his face.
“I don't like what you're implying.” Coco narrowed her eyes, giving the sternest stare she could up at the pegasus. And then, as if summoned by his name like a demon of old, Caballeron emerged from around the corner.
“We were only talking.” the Doctor stated coolly. “We're not even on a first name basis. Stop flustering the lady, Captain.”
“I'm not flustered.” muttered Coco.
“Alright, alright.” said Captain Billet. “No need to get so touchy...” He then retreated out of the mess hall, leaving the two alone. Something the Captain had said came back to her mind.
“Where have you been all day, anyway?” she asked.
“Enjoying the weather up above.” answered Caballeron.
“I wouldn't call it enjoyable,” said Coco, looking at the winter fluff of her fur, “at least not in my current condition.”
“Therein lies the problem of vacations to the tropics at this time of year.” Caballeron stated.
The rest of the day passed uneventfully for Coco; she explored what parts of the ship that she could, and then went back to her cabin. Before boredom possessed her to read that book of Rarity's, Quartermaster Forestay came to her, requesting her to inspect the extra auxiliary sails for damage. She spent the rest of the day in the hold, applying patches where needed. I guess this is how I pay my passage, she noted.
“How do you do that?” wondered Forestay, watching her sew. “I've seen unicorns use their magic for this, but never an earth pony.”
“It takes practice and talent.” Coco told him. “I guess I've got plenty of both.”
Another day passed, more or less the same. She awoke in the middle of the night; Nutmeg was no longer gently rolling. A peek out of her cabin's porthole revealed the light of a city, and dark shapes took on the resemblance of buildings and ships. They'd arrived in Adin. Coco had barely been asleep for more than a minute, so it seemed, before there was knocking at her door.
“Ugh...” she groaned, before she heard the voice of Caballeron.
“Miss Pommel, would you like to see Adin before we leave? The sun hasn't risen yet, so it's still quite cool.”
“Hmm... Fine.” agreed Coco, rolling over to look at the clock. Five forty-one. “Just give me a few minutes...”
Later, as they walked down the gangplank, Caballeron said: “This is the chance of a lifetime, Miss Pommel. While you upper class ponies might go to Saint Garnet, few ponies of any class ever come to Adin, aside from mariners and merchants.”
“You don't need to convince me, Doctor.” Coco replied, shaking her head to ward off falling into a doze. Even at this early hour, the dock was active. Caballeron told her a little about the city. Despite Adin belonging to Zebradom, most of the city's population were Aravian horses; taller, lither, and longer-snouted than Equestrian ponies, with no cutie marks. They were ruled by zebras of course, though the Aravians were getting anxious for independence, or at least autonomy. The horses of Adin wanted to be free as their northerly neighbors in the desert kingdom of Sadel Araveh, often mistakenly called Saddle Arabia by ponies.
“Isn't Zebradom just a name for a collection of de facto independent states though? How could you get more autonomous than that?” asked Coco.
“It's complicated.” sighed Caballeron. “Local politics are made even more muddied by the tribal conflicts of the Aravians. They were a united nation, long ago, but the march of time turns all to dust, and some fell under Zebric influence, others did not.”
True enough, Coco saw that the town authorities were all zebras, while the commoners seemed to be all Aravians. She spotted a few griffons, which wasn't unusual; griffons were a wide-ranging people. There was something fascinating about the Aravians, Coco noted: they all wore clothes. Clothes were luxury goods in Equestria, for ponies like her to make on the whims of their clients, but here they seemed a mainstay. Some word rich and dark colors, embroidered with cloth-of-gold; some wore simple white drapings. No doubt they were the ones who spent time in the sun.
There was something else she noticed, too. “Doctor,” Coco said, “there sure are a lot of chessboards sitting around out here.”
“Chess is the most popular sport in all of Zebradom.” Caballeron said. “Aravian tribals, zebra kings, griffon mercenaries, and until recently Rattish sailors found themselves all sitting around the same board, social differences nullified by a game of wits and strategy.”
“You know,” commented Coco, smiling to herself, “my grandfather taught me to play chess. I could never manage to beat him. He was good. Very good.”
“I wouldn't start a game here, if that's what you're thinking. They take hours when things get serious.” said Caballeron.
“That's for certain!” Coco laughed, recalling fond memories.
Caballeron and she walked around town until the stores began to open, just after sunrise. The first place they visited what seemed to be a bookstore. She could immediately tell this place was more than a bookstore. Caballeron told her it was a rare bookstore, famed throughout all the known world, with volumes being offered at thousands, or even tens of thousands of bits. When Coco opened one of the books, she was disappointed at the contents. “Somepony's drawn worms and dots all over this book's pages!” she told Caballeron indignantly.
“That would be the Aravian alphabet, Miss Pommel.” Caballeron corrected her. For a few moments, Coco was left stumped at how such gibberish could even form letters. She changed the topic and asked why exactly they'd come to this place. “I'm looking for The Doom in the East , the griffon saga I mentioned a few nights ago. Perhaps they have a copy here I could look at?”
But alas, the bookkeeper informed him that they had not had The Doom in the East for many decades. There were only two surviving copies of it, in fact: one kept by the griffons in the High King's library, and one which had found its way to them from farther south, and had been bought by an Equestrian collector over thirty years ago.
“It was worth a try.” Coco said. Two more hours passed; the two ponies saw what there was to see in the city. They made a point of avoiding the coffee market. Instead, Caballeron dragged her to a bazaar full of little odd trinkets; and Coco dragged him to the tailor's bazaar. He learned the difference between linen and cotton, and she learned what a hurdy gurdy was. It's the most annoying instrument in the world! Coco had declared silently, while wincing at the groaning drone the strange thing made.
They returned to the docks, where Coco saw notices like the ones in Saint Garnet. But they were warning posted from the office of the Prince of Adin, warning of Rattish aggression in local waters. “Hopefully we won't run into any of that...” she told Caballeron.
“Hopefully not. We're under the Crown's protection, the wrath of Celestia is enough to strike fear into any pirate's heart. But that'd be just the thing to ruin today, wouldn't it?” he asked.
“It sounds like you've been enjoying this detour.” said Coco.
“Maybe I have, Miss Pommel.” Caballeron replied. “A little break from the stresses of travel can be just the thing one needs.” They ascended the gangplank, where Captain Billet was overseeing the last of their new cargo being loaded. Crate after crate of coffee grounds was being stashed in Nutmeg' s hold. Apparently, the Captain and his merchant friend had sorted everything out while they saw the city. Something else occurred to her. He's been only using my last name since we met...
“Doctor,” began she, with the best friendly smile she could summon, “I think you know me well enough to just call me Coco, now.”
“Do I?” Caballeron looked thoughtful. “If you say so. I'd return the privilege, but I only have one name... So I guess you can drop the 'Doctor.'”
Coco remembered the name Captain Billet had called him. “How about I call you Cabal, for short?” she suggested.
“You too?” sighed Caballeron. Coco couldn't help but giggle at the resigned expression he had. “Fine...”
By nine in the morning, their voyage had resumed. They'd only been in Adin for four hours, or a little more, but the exotic sights were something she wouldn't forget in a long time. Coco got to see the surrounding land as they sailed out of the harbor; Adin still had its ancient walls. In the distance were low mountains, sloping down to the sea; barren and rocky, devoid of all life but for some hardy shrubs and dwarf trees with nary a leaf on them. Even at this hour, the heat was rising fast. She was glad they weren't sticking around for the afternoon.
Spar reported that they'd make it to Manehatten in time for her meeting, with some more good fortune. The wind was coming in from a new direction, but it was enough to catch the auxiliary sails well enough. For a few more hours, everything was well.
And then, somepony saw sails on the horizon. It was a few minutes before Coco could even make anything out other than a little speck, but the sailors with binoculars were muttering about the lack of flags.
“What's going on out here?” Caballeron asked, coming up from below-decks.
“There's a ship headed for us, with no markings.” Spar said from the starboard bridge wing of the wheelhouse, frowning grimly at the shape coming towards them.
“Hell's bells.” muttered Quartermaster Forestay, who also had made an appearance.
“Spar!” barked Captain Billet, emerging from the wheelhouse. “Do you recognize her?”
“No, Captain!” replied Spar. “But she doesn't look like a merchant. Something isn't quite right.”
“I fear the worse.” Caballeron said quietly. Coco's stomach twisted, and she couldn't help but let her ears fall back. The mystery ship drew closer and closer, until Coco could make out a black hull, and three tall masts with white sails. She recognized it as a windjammer, a steel-hulled, purely wind-propelled ship, made for long voyages. Something poked out from the gunwale, and Coco only heard the crack of the cannon after she saw the flash. A sizzling roar followed as the shell arced over Nutmeg , and crashed into the sea far beyond them.
“They're signaling!” Spar shouted for all to hear. A spotlight on the windjammer started blinking, in the international light-code. “Equestrian ship, ” he recited, “heave to and prepare to be boarded. ”
“They've fired their warning shot,” Forestay said to Coco, “we can either surrender or try to flee. But the next one won't miss.”
“Do as they say.” ordered Captain Billet, but Spar hesitated. “Do it! If they're following the rules of war at sea, they can't do anything to harm us.”
The windjammer was now close enough that Coco could see the figures aboard her. A flag was finally raised: a skeletal tree, wreathed in flame, upon a black field. The banner of the Rattish State, Coco recognized.
Fate once more turned against her.
Author's Note
I'm sure the flag of Hivald looks cooler in my head than it would in real life. Oh well. Here's what a hurdy gurdy sounds like, for the record. I think it's a cool-sounding instrument, but I seem to be in the minority when I show this video to people.
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Caballeron
“Why now?” groaned Caballeron, watching the ship come alongside Nutmeg . “We were doing so well! We were only days from home!”
“You're telling me?” Coco looked to be somewhere between distraught and panicked; she no doubt realized that her chances of getting home on time, or perhaps at all, had been severely reduced.
The first rats aboard consisted of a part of one officer and several marines. The officer wore a dark grey coat and dark grey cap with golden insignia of rank, a sheathed sword at his side; while his marines were in steel cuirasses and steel helmets, spiked hammers at their hips and shields slung over their backs.
“I am Lieutenant Torner of the commerce raider Sable , in the service of the Republic of Hivald. Who is in command here?” demanded their officer, keeping a respectful distance from the ponies.
“I am.” said the Captain from the bridge-wing above. “You have Captain Barnacle Billet of Nutmeg , a merchant steamer under the protection of the Equestrian Crown.” That final clause was heavily emphasized by the Captain.
“Captain Billet, I am under orders to conduct an inventory of your passenger and cargo manifest. Your cooperation is not necessary, but would be appreciated.” stated the rat.
“Whatever you need, you will have it.” Billet told them, coming down to the deck. “As long as we can get underway as soon as possible. However, this incident will be reported to the Admiralty as soon as we return to our own waters.”
“I expect nothing less.” replied Torner, grimly. “Unfortunately, neither I nor my own Captain are able to ignore commands from our superiors. I would like to see your passenger manifest first.” Spar was told to go fetch it, even though the only two passengers were standing on deck that very moment. Caballeron looked at Coco; she was watching the scene with anxious curiosity. Maybe this is the first time she's ever seen a rat? Rats and ponies had once been enemies, in ancient times. Some of that mutual fear was still around, buried so deep few ever realized where it came from.
Spar returned, with the official manifests of passengers and cargo. Torner was surprised when he saw the former of the two. “Well, I'll be! After six ships searched... Corporal, go tell the Captain we have our pony.” One of the marines went back down the side-stair, presumably to take the little skiff back to Sable .
“What do you mean?” asked Captain Billet. “What do you want with one of my passengers? I only have two.”
“We have orders direct from the Tetrarchy to find a certain Doctor Caballeron, and bring him back with us to Hivald.” stated Lieutenant Torner. “Is he here among you?” For a moment, Caballeron stood still. Did he stay quiet and hope no pony pointed him out while he thought out a way to escape this mess? Or did he step forward and save them all loads of trouble? Caballeron was about to go with the first course of action, when he noticed all the crew were looking at him.
“Wow, Doctor, I guess those books about you are true!” said Quartermaster Forestay. “What did you steal this time?”
Caballeron tried not to growl in irritation. “I stole nothing, you imbecile! Can't you tell the difference between a bad writer's slander and the truth? It was that worthless Timar!” exclaimed Caballeron, trying not to stamp the deck in frustration. “That little vermin ran off and cried to his bosses because I out-maneuvered him when he tried to steal from me! ”
“Strong words, Doctor.” warned Lieutenant Torner, giving him a cool look. That was right, vermin was considered to be a derogatory term by the rats.
I guess the truth hurts, sourly thought Caballeron. “I apologize for nothing. I have done no wrong here! I am, as usual , the victim of liars, thieves, and barbarian savages!” he declared.
“I don't know, Doctor,” Forestay grinned, “you're usually the thief in these circumstances.”
“Impudent-!”
“Doctor Caballeron, please.” Coco put a hoof across his chest, stopping him from going after the Quartermaster. “This is really a bad time for a fight.”
“That'd make you Coco Pommel, then.” Torner deduced. “You're in luck, the Tetrarchs don't want you. Now, let's see about his cargo manifest...”
The rats went over the inventory with the help of Billet; Spar was left with the crew to make sure no pony did anything stupid. Caballeron could only sit beneath the bridge-wing discontentedly. I can't believe those stupid idiots believe every word they read from those vile “books.” One of these days, I'm going to make that Daring Do regret all the trouble she's caused me... One of these days, though certainly not today. He believed he had his priorities out of order. Here he was, fuming at almost-libel, when the very forces he had been trying to escape had found him. Never underestimate the blinding abilities of pride , Caballeron reminded himself. After some few minutes of silence, Coco spoke up again.
“Caballeron,” she said, “whyare they after you? Do they want... something?” Her pause made it clear just what she was referring to.
“They do want the Horn,” he whispered, “I'm sure of it. My 'partners' on the expedition were rats.”
“What's it to them, though?” Coco asked, glancing uneasily at the armored marines who had just boarded their ship.
“I don't know.” answered Caballeron, frowning at them. “As far as I'm aware, it's an old relic that doesn't even work. So why are they risking the Princess's wrath over a collection piece?”
“Unless it's more than a relic.” Coco squirmed. “With a name like it has...”
“One shudders at the thought.” dryly said Caballeron. Though to be honest, there was some degree of power in that Horn. The question was, how much? While Coco and he had talked, Lieutenant Torner and Billet had reached a conclusion themselves. Neither party looked pleased.
“The good news,” Lieutenant Torner announced, “is that your personal property will not be infringed upon. The bad news...” the rat looked genuinely apologetic. “is that you have a cargo of twenty tons of coffee grounds, which is grade-A war material by our mission charter. Our own holds are full, but we are required to bring these goods back with us.” stated Lieutenant Torner. He then raised his voice, and put a hand on the hilt of his sword. “By order of the Tetrarchs of the Republic of Hivald, we are hereby seizing this vessel as a war prize, and holding her crew prisoner until they can be delivered safely to a neutral port. Resistance will not be tolerated; cooperation will further your own interests as well as ours...”
Torner went on to recite the rules of war at sea, and how they applied to Nutmeg and her crew. Captain Billet and Shoal Spar could only look on grimly; they must have known this would be a risk when they entered the waters of Zebradom. Other members of the crew present varied from apathetic to outright panicked. Coco Pommel looked absolutely crushed; her ears fell straight down, and she stared at her hooves. There was no way, in heaven or Earth, that she'd make it home in time now. As for Caballeron himself... He didn't know what to think. The idea of having victory within his reach, only to have it snatched away on the jaws of fate, was nothing new to him. I suppose I should be used to this by now , he grumbled to himself.
But with his resignation came a twinge of worry. Why did the rats want him? Why did they want the Horn? Where those strange streaks of luck something more than just luck? Perhaps the Horn had guided him to this point? Then came a third why : why did the Horn, assuming it could influence fortune, bring him far from the clutches of Timar, and do the best it could to point him at Equestria, only to lead him straight to a Rattish commerce raider which would now drag him, and the innocent mare he had accidentally brought into this, all the way back south to Hivald? It didn't make sense! Wilhelm of Hockham's razor came into effect here; these events were easier explained as just strange luck at play, than any work of a Horn that could not even make a sound.
His luck was about to fail again, as well. Caballeron was told to gather his effects, for he was being taken to Sable for the duration of the journey. After a moment of thought, Torner decided that Coco and Captain Billet were coming as well, along with another number of crew. They all objected and asked why, but Caballeron knew exactly why.
“We're hostages, to prevent Spar and the rest of the crew from revolting. If they try anything, they'll kill one of us.” he said to Coco.
“W-what?” stammered she. He didn't think it was possible, but her ears dropped even further; and she trembled. Caballeron quickly deduced this was the first time his new friend had ever been threatened with death, even implicitly. In retrospect, it was probably a bad idea to tell Coco that.
“Don't worry too much,” he tried to calm her, “if they want to hurt you, I'll tell them I won't cooperate with them any further.” Coco didn't seem too convinced about that, but nodded in thankfulness anyway. She was right not to be, he'd likely say no such thing if it came down to that.
Caballeron ended up pushing the Horn's box in front of him, while Coco had to choose a minimum of her possessions to take over to Sable. Because she was a lady, of some class as Captain Billet informed Torner, she got to take a little more of her own belongings than anypony else. And here I am with only this wretched Horn, a bag of bits, and the jacket on my back.
The ponies were ushered down the iron stairway bolted to the side of Nutmeg ,and onto the skiff the rats had come aboard on. It must have returned from the foray back to its mother ship. “In you go.” ordered Torner. Captain Billet, Coco, Quartermaster Forestay, half a dozen other crew members, and Caballeron himself were packed into the skiff with four of the rat marines, plus rowers. Needless to say, the trip to Sable was short but very uncomfortable. And once there, they got to meet their new chief captor.
“Welcome to my ship.” said a rat in a sharp-looking uniform. He was a fearsome sight; far taller than any pony there, with a mauled ear and tail, untamed whiskers, and rough brown fur. This one too wore a sword. Flanking him was a short, heavy-framed tawny rat in the armor of a marine, and a thin grey rat. “I am Captain Barlent of the commerce raider Sable. You no doubt have already been informed of the circumstances of our mission.”
“We have.” Billet said, nodding.
“Very good.” Captain Barlent declared. “You will be shown to your holdings, where you will be put under watch for the duration of the voyage or until I see fit.” He turned to one of his marines. “Sergeant Grimsly, if you would...”
So began their captivity with the rats of Hivald.
Author's Note
Gotta update fast, due date is in a week.
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Caballeron
In the days to follow, the rats made a point to give the ponies an hour of fresh air on the deck, usually just after dawn when it was still cool. Up above, he was able to get a good look at Sable ; the 5-inch cannons on either side of the bow, covered in canvas; the lighter cannons concealed only to the outside; the absolute military tidiness of everything... All very professional. It was on the second of these expeditions to the outside world that Caballeron got to confront his newest friend about something very important.
“Coco, do you have a moment?” he asked quietly, making sure the rat guards and sailors were all out of earshot. Coco looked confused for a moment, before realization came upon her.
“Yes, of course.” she said. “Is this about..?”
“Indeed, it is about that .” stated Caballeron, grimacing. “I am grateful beyond all words for your quick thinking, but was it really necessary to put mare's clothing in my box?”
Coco giggled; it was the first time he'd seen her smile since Adin. Which hadn't been that long ago, come to think of it... “I'm sure you thought of something clever.” she said.
“I told them they were for my sister.” He lowered his voice even further. “I don't even have a sister!”
“If only I had been present to see this.”
“I'm glad you weren't; Forestay and Captain Billet wouldn't let me hear the end of their crude jokes.” grumbled Caballeron. “Now Forestay thinks I'm a storybook villain and a secret cross-dresser!” He couldn't help but give a disdaining glare at Nutmeg 's quartermaster.
“A storybook villain?” repeated Coco, confused. “That's not the impression I get from you.” Well, I'm certainly no hero , Caballeron couldn't help but think in response. He sighed, and then got to the point:
“Have you ever read the Daring Do novels?” The words left a bitterness in his mouth.
“Only vaguely. My friend from Ponyville writes about how two of her friends are obsessed with them...”
I heard a mare from Ponyville caused the author a great deal of trouble recently... Perhaps they are connected? A thought for another time. “A long time ago,” began Caballeron, “when I was helping teach classes at the University of Lithon, I had a student named A. K. Yearling. She wrote stories and asked if she could use my name for the villain. It apparently had a sinister ring to it. I didn't see anything harmful in it, I didn't think she'd sell anything. Well... she would. All of Yearling's stories were about a mare named Daring Do, who is exactly like Yearling but better in every way. You know that kind of character.”
“Like... some sort of wish-fulfillment fantasy?” asked Coco.
“Yes, that's my hunch as well. Anyways; Yearling turned out to be very good at archeology. Almost as good at me in our field of work. Almost . The department assigned her to an expedition out beyond the badlands; I offered to come along for some final educational lessons, which I thought this young mare would appreciate, given my expertise.” Caballeron suppressed a wordless growl of distaste. “She declined, citing reports of my apparent 'bad behavior.' I accepted her decision, but told her it was not a wise one. If only I knew how she was going to spin that.”
“Well, how did she?” Coco pressed.
“This is where things get complicated.” Caballeron sighed. “To put it simply... I had gotten in trouble with the department for making ends meet my own way. Yearling included that in her story, but wrote Daring Do's denial of my help in such a manner that it came off as her rejecting faux-Caballeron's appeal for teamwork. Faux-Caballeron then went off on his own, looted the dig site before they got there, and sold it all on the black market in revenge!” She knew his debts had come due and that no bank would offer him credit anymore, what else was he supposed to do? Let that band of fools, republicans, and socialists just take everything for their museums while he was threatened with debtor's prison?
“That's libel!” gasped Coco.
“I agree, but does anyone care? Of course not! That's how badly my reputation has suffered. She still writes these adventures of hers, making up evil deeds that I do for her inserted self to defeat. Apparently, I'm in league with a demon who is constantly trying to bring ruin on various properties...” Caballeron scowled into the distance. True , he did sell artifacts of power to a certain quasi-demon. However, he had never done it because he was evil! He had a standard of living to keep! “Let that be a lesson to you, Coco; some ponies will make it their life's goal to ruin you, just because they don't like you.”
“What a malicious thing to do!” stated Coco, looking cross. Her ears tilted back to match her frown. “I have a thing or two I'd like to say to this A. K. Yearling...”
That struck him in a peculiar way. Other ponies always believed what those wretched little train station novels had to say about his character. They believed he was exactly the way that horrible adventurer portrayed him. If only they knew the truth of the matter! “I'm glad you're on my side, Coco.” Caballeron confessed. “No pony else is.”
“I can't imagine why.” earnestly said Coco. She sounded like she actually meant that. “You've struck me as an upstanding and decent stallion, Doctor Caballeron.”
“Well... I've been known to be difficult to get along with.” he admitted. “I've met a lot of folk, all of them with goals as self-serving and cynical as any other. So I treat them in that manner. But you? You're simply too kind and honest to deserve the usual treatment.”
“I do try to hold myself to better standards, these days.” Coco said, smiling warmly again. “It seems Celestia's golden rule really does work!”
“It's pretty to think so.” Naive, she was hopelessly naive! But there was something almost endearing about how strong her hope and faith in good was. And despite his mood, Caballeron found himself smiling too.
“Alright, ponies, sunning time is over.” announced Sergeant Grimsly, herding them back below the decks. Grimsly was one of the shorter rats on the ship; indeed, most other rats with his light fur color were on the short side. If he didn't know any better, he could swear that a rat's height correlated with his fur color. Caballeron had noticed it before, but never really thought about it until now. It wasn't like he was short on thinking time.
The voyage continued. Caballeron spent most of his time locked up in the tiny cabin he was forced to share with Forestay and Captain Billet. It was not a pleasant experience, at first, but after the first few days, the other two stallions just settled on playing chess. Sergeant Grimsly had acquired it for them after an incident involving a bucket and mop on the deck one morning. Caballeron was not very good at the game, to the amusement of ponies and rats both. Chess, like in Adin, was quite popular aboard Sable .
As they went further south, the sun got higher and higher in the sky. It was imperceptible by itself, but Caballeron noted that the shadows were a little shorter every morning he spent on deck with Coco. It was a shame they only got a few minutes to talk, he was starting to look forward to their daily meetings.
Finally, a dreary five days had passed. Very little of note had happened. But one morning, the situation did change.
Author's Note
The seeds are planted for that other tag besides adventure to come into effect. And there's three days until the contest ends. And I'm almost out of previously written content.
S-send help.
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Barlent
“Nothing?” the Captain asked.
“Nothing but some strange choices of clothing.” stated Torner.
“I really thought there'd be something in that box of his, sir.” Grimsly said. The four leaders of Sable , Greywacke included, had gathered in the Captain’s stateroom late at night to discuss their Equestrian passengers. Focusing on one in particular, of course.
“Why would the Tetrarchy send us after this Caballeron if he doesn't have anything of value?” Torner questioned to himself. “He's got to know something, then! He's got to!”
“Oh, he does.” said Greywacke, the political officer. Greywacke was not a talker; and when he did speak, his voice was always soft. It was slightly unnerving at how calm and quiet the rat remained, no matter the circumstance. Maybe that's why he was made a political officer? “I believe that the archaeologist carries something with him. However, we have no proof.”
Barlent turned to his executive officer. “Torner, put on the thinking music.”
“Yes, sir.” Torner walked over to a cabinet of records, and placed one from a well-worn cover on the phonograph. “Ambrose's 8th symphony, as requested.” he remarked, placing the record on the device and switching it on.
“There we go.” said Barlent, standing up and beginning to pace about. He fetched his pipe from the table, and lit it. “Grimsly, turn the record over when it is finished.”
“Yes, sir.” Grimsly said, nodding.
“The question is... what is the value of Caballeron?” began the Captain. “What makes him worth starting a war with Equestria over? And that is what's going to happen, mark my words.” He stabbed his tail in the air in emphasis. “There was a good reason for abducting him.”
“What if there wasn't, sir?” suggested Grimsly.
“Then the Republic is finished, because it's run by madrats!” Barlent waved his pipe at the marine. “No, I do not believe this was a fool's gamble. If our government thinks there was a reason, then there was a reason, and we will figure it out.”
The best idea he and Torner could come up with was that Caballeron had carried something other than mare's clothing in his box, and had switched it out at some point. That meant Coco Pommel was involved.
“Unlikely.” Greywacke said. “She's an Equestrian who's never left homeland, breaking rules does not come naturally to her kind.”
“Perhaps our Doctor convinced her to do something.” Torner said.
“Perhaps. But as Greywacke said, we have no proof.” stated Barlent. “And I'm not about to violate the privacy of a lady on a hunch.”
“Why not? She is a prisoner of war, technically speaking. What rights does she have?” asked Greywacke, shrugging. Barlent now had to wave his pipe at the political officer.
“What rights doesn't she have?” barked Barlent. “What are we? Pirates, or sailors? I won't make a mockery of international law, not while I still command this ship. If you wanted to spit on decency and morality, you should have gotten assigned to the army.” Torner winced at that, but Greywacke looked as cool as ever.
“This is your ship, Captain.” Greywacke inclined his head, speaking so respectfully it was almost mocking.
“You're damn right it is.” muttered Barlent, turning to look out the windows of his stateroom. He opened the doors to the captain's walk for fresh air, but did not go out. The music went on for a few minutes more, and Grimsly had to flip the record. It was then that Barlent finally thought of something. “Ah... Yes, I have it!”
“You do, sir?” asked Torner.
“We will play dumb with the Equestrians for now. As far as we know, we were told to snatch Caballeron and nothing else. We don't know why, we don't suspect him of anything, we pretend to be as confused as he is pretending to be. We don't suspect Miss Coco Pommel, either. If she is in league with Caballeron, we'll find out.” Barlent rubbed his hands together. “Now, here is what we will do...”
Author's Note
Pretend this is Ambrose's 8th Symphony, because I did:
And yes, I know I broke the pattern. Barlent was always planned to have a few scattered POVs. He's probably got two more in this story before the end.
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Coco
“...And so,” concluded Sergeant Grimsly, “we have decided to put you ponies to work on Sable . It will hopefully keep your minds from wandering too far.”
“What kind of work?” asked Captain Billet. They were all assembled on deck for their morning time in the fresh air, while the rat crew went about their duties.
“Mostly menial tasks. Peeling potatoes, washing the floor, and so on.” Grimsly stated. He paired up the ponies; and to Coco's pleasant surprise, she and Caballeron ended up assigned to work together.
“How lucky.” she commented.
“Lucky indeed.” agreed Caballeron, not sounding pleased about this situation.
“Mister Grimsly,” Coco asked, “what is it that we'll be doing?”
“That's Sergeant Grimsly to you.” said the rat. “You, Miss Pommel, are an accomplished seamstress, are you not?” Coco nodded. “We'll have you working on the spare sails, and perhaps uniforms as well.”
“Of course.” she said. Just like on Nutmeg, Coco sighed. She was supposed to be on vacation, and she ended up doing work anyway! And it wasn't even the work she enjoyed, designing and making new things; it was just fixing old things!
“As for you,” Grimsly gestured to Caballeron, “you look like a strong pony. Sails are quite big, as you've no doubt noticed whenever you look up, so moving them around is not a one-person job.”
“Better than sitting around all day.” grumbled Caballeron. Grimsly led them down into Sable again, and this time, they got to go below the first deck. In fact, they went three decks down. They descended well below the waterline, into a hold overflowing with captured goods. It was very dimly lit, with only a few lights to illuminate the area.
“Electric lamps?” noted Caballeron. “How luxurious!”
“Our fleet transitioned to electricity some years ago. Gas lights are far too dangerous.” Grimsly said. “A shame our Canine enemies are too thick-skulled to learn that lesson, eh?” laughed the rat. “Not that it'd do them any good now, we torched their wood-and-iron fleet at port. The brutes could barely mount a defense!”
Coco frowned as they picked their way through the stacks of materials. There was everything down here; crates of ore, sacks of grain, chests full of who knew what. They even had a pallet of gold ingots down here, and a box full of books! “Mister- Sergeant Grimsly, why are your people fighting the dogs?” asked Coco.
“That's a big question, Miss Pommel. We're fighting because... Because...” Grimsly actually stopped walking, and Caballeron bumped into him. He pushed up his helmet and scratched his head, before turning around to look at her. “Come to think of it, I don't really know why it started. We're rats, though; go where we would, we have always found enemies. The dogs are just the latest in line.”
“Thanks for trying to explain, at least.” said Coco. Her friend gave the rat a look that said many things. She didn't know how to interpret it. They resumed their journey through the hold, before they reached a room full of tightly folded canvas.
“Sails!” declared Grimsly, marking the ones that needed fixing. He left her a kit of needles and heavy thread to use. “Now, don't sabotage anything, or you'll get a bolt through the brain.” With a cheery smile, the rat departed. Coco's stomach fluttered at the thought of a crossbow being pointed at her head.
“What an upbeat fellow.” remarked Caballeron. “Though I would have hoped he would use walking the plank as a threat.”
“I'd hope for no threats at all.” Coco said. They unfolded the first one, as much as they could in the room. It had but a single bulb lighting it; Coco felt like it was nighttime despite it being late morning. While she worked, Caballeron was left with little to do except adjust the sail. It wasn't long before he started asking questions.
“How do you do this?” he wondered, watching her needlework.
“Lots of practice.” she stated. “My old boss made sure I knew how to work fast and well.”
“Sounds like she had a good work ethic.”
“Hah! No, she had me doing everything while she drank coffee and read magazines all day. A worthless mare if I ever knew one.”
“I've never heard you speak so negatively of anypony, Coco.” Caballeron feigned surprise.
“Some ponies don't deserve to be spoke well of. I might be trying to be a better mare, but that doesn't mean I can't tell the truth, especially about those not worth being better to.” Coco jabbed her needle through the sailcloth harder than she had intended. “She made me hate coffee!”
“Coffee got us into this mess, I may hate it too by the time we're through here.” snorted Caballeron. For a moment, Coco paused her work, and looked up.
“We are going to make it through this, right?” she asked, her ears twitching back. “We're not going to end up with bolts in our brains?”
Again, Caballeron got that look she'd seen earlier, something she couldn't quite pin down. “I hope so.” he said, before lowering his voice. “I don't know what they know about me, if anything. If they know as much as I worry they might... It could end very badly for me.”
Coco glanced away uneasily. “I don't want to sound selfish, but they won't come after me too, will they?”
“No, I don't think they will.” he assured her. “If they start harming innocent Equestrian citizens, the rats will bring down the wrath of Celestia on them.”
Did he just exempt himself from innocent citizens? Coco asked herself, turning back to her work so Caballeron didn't see her questioning expression. He did say that he had been in trouble with a rat named Timar. But Timar had been the one to try and steal the Horn, not Caballeron. Why would Caballeron be punished by the rats for that? That all seemed very unfair, and it reminded her of Suri again, to her distaste. She had to remind herself that Caballeron did not imply he was innocent, though. Was it possible he was the one who stole the Horn? Maybe... But he seemed too respectful for that kind of business.
It was a few more hours until they were brought up for lunch, but after they were put back down in the hold again. Coco didn't mind. Getting her hooves to do something, even menial, was far better than sitting around in that horrible hammock all day with very little to do but read that awful book Rarity had loaned her.
“When this is over,” Caballeron said, “I'll be happy if I never have to touch sailcloth again.”
“It's not so bad.” Coco told him, continuing on with her sewing. “I just wonder how they got these so torn up in the first place.”
“Storms, no doubt.”
“I'd never been on a ship until the other week, and never on a full sailing ship until this adventure of ours...” she sighed, before trying to look on the bright side of things. “At least we'll have a good story to tell.” If they ever got back.
“Will it be your first?” asked Caballeron, pulling the stretch of cloth towards him so that she could fix the next gash.
“Just because I've never been more than twenty miles from home before now doesn't mean I don't have my own stories, Cabal.” Coco stated coolly. He rolled his eyes at the use of his shortened name. “You told me I could call you that, don't look annoyed at me.” she said, jabbing a hoof at him.
“Fine, fine.” Caballeron waved dismissively.
“As I was about to say... When I was a little girl, I found an archaeological site myself! I must have been twelve, maybe thirteen; out running around doing who knew what. I certainly don't remember.” I suppose it was some game... “It had flooded that spring, and when the water went back down again, it took a lot of dirt with it. I was going through one of the scoured fields when I saw something coming out of the ground.”
“That's how most digs begin...” commented the stallion, nodding slightly.
“Well, I did dig it up. It was a griffon helmet!” Coco could remember that day clearly still. It'd been the most interesting thing to happen to her until she went to Manehatten. She hadn't even cared that she got her hooves dirty while unearthing the thing. It had been rusty beyond all belief, and corroded to the point of having holes in it, but it had holes for ears and a protrusion mimicking a beak. No doubt, it was a griffon helmet. “I took it to my grandfather, of course. He was the academic one of the family. He told me it was a Greenlandic helmet, from one of their old nobility.”
“Really?” asked Caballeron, leaning forward. “That's a rare find.”
“He said the same. Later, I took him and some of the tenants out to where I found it, and we dug up half the field. You wouldn't believe some of the things we found-” Coco paused, then remembered who she was talking to. “You would, actually, wouldn't you?”
“From the way you describe it, it sounds like it was a battlefield you discovered.” noted Caballeron.
“It was.” she affirmed. “My grandfather thought it was one of the final encounters between the griffons and Celestia's army.”
“Fascinating.” Caballeron said, with no hint of sarcasm. “Which one? Riverfield? Murkwater? Redbanks?”
“Uh...” Coco blinked, before shaking her head. “They sound like the same thing to me.”
“Exactly.” He laughed at that. “It's an ongoing debate in the community, whether or not there were really three battles, or just one going by three different names that have evolved over the years.”
“Ah.”
“What's for certain though, is that after Celestia's show of force, Greenland was subdued, and thus ended two hundred years of the Griffonlaw. Manehatten and all lands north were left free to prosper under the rule of the Princess...” Caballeron sounded like he was reciting a history book. He just might be , thought Coco, smiling to herself. “What did you do with the artifacts you found?” he asked.
“My grandfather said they belonged in a museum, and donated them to the big one in Manehatten.” Coco replied. That got a disdainful snort out of Caballeron. “Do you have something against museums?”
“I do, in fact.” he grumbled. “The Royal Historical Society has had it out for me, for over a decade now. A. K. Yearling had her part to play in that, but they made me an enemy of theirs even before she came along.”
“Why?” asked Coco, tilting her head in thought as she sewed on. It was something she'd noticed: he always mentioned, or at least implied, that he was outside of the archaeological community. How did one become an exile in academia?
“I get things done, Coco.” said Caballeron, frowning at nothing in particular. “I delivered results when the rest of them sat around moralizing.”
“Delivering results?” Coco gave a little laugh. “You make it sound like you're a villainous mob boss in a detective novel!”
“Hah. No, I'm not quite there. Though I have dealt with ponies like that. That didn't stop me from getting my doctorate, at least. I managed to get that before they cast me out completely. A. K. Yearling's class was the last one I ever taught, it was during the same year. After that incident with her, I was out on my own. It was definitely a change in perspective, being a loner, at least.” he shrugged.
“Yeah...” Now she got to frown too. Caballeron was right. Ponies were sociable creatures, and a pony outside of society was a very strange pony indeed. She wondered just how far from the herd Caballeron had gotten. “You're not totally on your own, are you? You must have somepony out there, friends or family or..?” asked Coco, putting down needle and thread.
“My parents passed on a while back, my grandparents even longer ago, so I can't say I have any family. And...” Caballeron thought for a moment. “Hmm. Well, I have contacts, a few people I can trust here and there, from Austmark to Wic.”
“So... no?”
“I'm afraid I move around too much.” admitted Caballeron. “I've haven't spent a year in one place since... Since I was teaching in Lithton, I suppose.”
“It must be rough.” Coco said.
“It's not so bad. I've seen more of the world than anypony else is ever likely to see. I wager I've been places that even the Princess hasn't seen.”
“What's the point without friends?” asked she. Coco stood up, and moved closer to him. “If you've got no one to share all those experiences and stories with... It just seems sad, really.”
“The point? It's the-” Caballeron started to say, before she cut him off.
“No pony should be without friends.” said Coco firmly, putting a hoof against his. “It's a good thing I'm here, isn't it?”
All Caballeron did was give her a perplexed look. “Perhaps it is.” he finally said, lightening up.
“Of course it is.” Coco stated, looking slyly about. “Without me, who knows what trouble you'd be in right now.”
Those words meant for Caballeron's ears alone reached another pair. Soon, the bait for the trap would be set. But for the time being, the two ponies remained ignorant of that; they were too focused on their growing relationship. As Coco would learn later, Greywacke the political officer had predicted exactly what would happen in the following week.
Author's Note
So that's what, our second hint of anything romantic in a supposedly romantic story? Hey, don't blame me, people don't fall in love instantly. It takes time to build things up believably, at least between two characters so radically different. Unfortunately, I'm all out of time! The contest deadline is... right now. Time to submit.
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Gods and Games of Rats and Ponies
Caballeron
“How has it been?” Sergeant Grimsly asked, as he took the pair back to their quarters, after their second day fixing sails. Who knew there were so many spares aboard...
“It's been refreshingly active, thank you.” Coco told him.
“Good, good.” Grimsly said. “We'll be passing over the equator tonight, if you care to know.”
“Already?” asked Caballeron.
“Yes, indeed. What's the saying... Ah: time flies, does it not?” The rat chuckled. “Generally, the crew likes to celebrate a crossing... Expect music.”
“I hope there's no hurdy-gurdies.” Coco murmured.
“Hurdy-gurdies?” repeated Grimsly. “Never heard of it. We have fiddles, and accordions... All manner of such things.”
“Sounds like a fun night for rats.” Caballeron said dryly.
“Don't be so glum.” Grimsly implored. “Besides, we'll be celebrating the forty-fifth anniversary of the Revolution and the Republic's founding in a week and a half. If you're good ponies, we might let you have some fun too.”
“Well, I don't really relish the thought of being kept up all night.” Coco stated apologetically.
“Don't you have something to read? You ponies do love your books.”
“I have one,” admitted she, “but... It is not polite reading.” Grimsly snorted in humor, while Caballeron raised an eyebrow. “It was a loan from a friend, I have no idea what it really was!” said Coco, scowling.
“The Captain has an impressive collection of books himself.” said Grimsly. “Perhaps we can ask him for something?”
“I wouldn't want to bother him-” began Coco.
“It'll be fine.” Grimsly assured her. “We'll go ask right now.”
Again, Caballeron found himself being led down the same hall to the Captain's quarters. Grimsly knocked on the door, and was quickly let in. The ponies were barred from entry, however, as Torner emerged. “Oh, hello there.” he said politely.
“Good evening.” Coco said; Caballeron just nodded. “We've come to borrow a book from the Captain.”
“Which one? He's got half a hundred hidden away, thanks to a zebra yacht we came upon a few months ago. Turns out he was a prince who disregarded the general warning about commerce raiders posted in every port this side of the world!” Torner laughed. “There were some delightfully rare pieces aboard, it was a good haul.”
“I should very much like to see them.” murmured Caballeron. Any rare book was a good book, in his profession. “I never heard of a reading rat, though.”
“No, I doubt you would have.” Torner flicked his tail, looking unamused. “My people have never remained anywhere for long, leisure time is not held in high regard in our culture.”
“Why?” asked Coco. This elicited another tail-flick from Torner.
“Surely, they tell you about that in school?” he questioned back.
“No,” Coco shook her head, “we learned nothing about rats in school. We barely even touched on griffons, and that was only because we live in land the griffons occupied once.”
“Well, if you really want to know why, it all goes back to-”
Grimsly emerged from the Captain's cabin. “Sorry, Miss Pommel, but the captain is hesitant to lend any books out at the moment.”
“Oh. Alright...” she answered, ears falling.
“However, the Captain has decided that you've been well behaved enough already, and that you are no longer to be confined to quarters outside of work.” Grimsly stated. That got her to brighten up.
“Wonderful!”
“Does that apply to the rest of us?” asked Caballeron.
“It does.” affirmed the sergeant of the marines. “Now, don't make us regret our mercy. Behave!” he ordered, before marching off down the hall.
“It seems I can show you instead of tell you our story, now.” Torner clasped his hands. “Follow me, ponies, you have something to see.”
He led them down more of the pristine halls on the first deck, before coming to a room roughly in the center of the deck.
“This,” said Torner, “is the ship's shrine.” He opened the door, and ushered the in. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the lantern-lit darkness, but Caballeron was immediately impressed by what he saw within.
“What a collection!” Caballeron whispered. There were idols and symbols of every sort in the little room. Statuettes of dogs and minotaurs and griffons, or more fantastical creatures; a decorated flask with enchanted water from the legendary Stonesprings; witch-masks from Zebradom's savannahs; a pillar of flame carved from a brilliant red crystal; the ivory skull of a stag with violet amethysts for eyes; a silver star with eight rays upon a pedestal; pretty talismans of the old water spirits; more sinister talismans of the fire demons that were said to have ruled the ancient world; a worn but still beautiful icon of Princess Celestia, haloed by the sun to mark her divinity; and a much newer one of Princess Luna too.
“There's so many!” Coco said, gaping at the cluttered room.
This is a literal fortune, thought Caballeron. If he sold this to Daring Do's museums, he'd be able to at least get a few years of his retirement pay out of it. “Where did you get all these?” he asked.
“We brought them with us.” Torner replied, folding his arms behind his back.
“From port?” guessed Coco.
“From every land we've inhabited.” the rat said. “For every deity there is, a rat has worshiped it. There is only one missing from this shrine: the god we followed before Hurricane and her pegasi came. He betrayed us, my people were left to their own devices to fight the invaders.”
“I've heard the pegasus version of the story,” Caballeron remarked, “it's full of flesh-eating and blood magic.”
“So is ours. The accounts say that we were reduced to starvation by the pegasi queens, we had to eat the dead of pony and rat alike to survive. Soon we were hunting living ponies for food.” Torner gazed at the icon of Celestia. “They say it was before her time. There was no peace-making Princess to rule with wisdom and restraint in those days. In our final desperation, we turned to blood magic. Sacrifices on the altars of our absent god. He didn't answer... But something else did.”
Coco squirmed. “I'm glad the Princess stops that kind of business.”
“Aren't we all?” Torner asked, not giving them time to answer. “It was not enough. We moved first into the Frozen North, where we dwelt for a time in servitude of storm-spirits, before they chose the griffons over us. Then came our years on the Thither Shore, and many tribes pledged themselves to the Sky-lord of those lands, until the great fire. After that, we went to a smoking isle risen from the sea. Many would perish there, and so we left once more, ten generations ago, arriving on the jungle shores of Hivald.” He waved a hand at all the idols before them. “In two thousand years of wandering this Earth, not one of them has ever failed to abandon us in our hour of need.”
“Then why do you keep them?” asked Caballeron.
“For hope, I'd guess.” Coco interjected before Torner could answer.
The rat nodded. “Yes, the lady is right.” he said. “No mortal creature was meant to go through life without hope. So every rat finds his own gods, or perhaps none at all. I'm partial to the Sky-lord, myself.” Torner tapped the silver star. “I take it you ponies send your prayers to the Princess?”
“I think you misunderstand!” laughed Coco. “Princess Celestia isn't a goddess. She just raises the sun, and-”
“-is immortal, powerful beyond measure, and wiser and fairer than any other creature on Earth.” Torner gave her a bemused look. “She sounds like a goddess to me.”
“It is rather more complicated than that.” Caballeron interjected, clearing his throat. “There are some who believe that Princess Celestia is an avatar of a fire goddess; she acts out the goddess's will and communes with it. The whole 'raising the sun' act is just that: an act, that is easy to understand for the dull-witted masses than the concept of being the embodiment of a deity’s will on Earth.” He shrugged. “Not that I'm one of those ponies. Celestia is what she is, and that's all there is to it.”
“Come now, Doctor, surely you have a stronger opinion? You are an archeologist, you ought to be informed on these things.”
“You ought to.” agreed Coco.
“I've been many places and seen many things, but none of them to make me believe that Celestia is working for a higher being.” Caballeron stated. “We're on our own down here, against whatever may come our way.”
“An outlook shared by many of my people...” The rat shrugged, as if there were nothing that could be done about it. “But I would be curious to know what exactly you have seen.” Torner said.
“Perhaps another time.” Cabelleron dismissed. Torner ushered them out of the shrine, and back towards the cabins. Just as Grimsly had said, the ponies were indeed being let out for just a little while tonight.
"Consider it a test run for being let out in the future." stated the rat sergeant. He let the ponies set themselves up in the hall so they had space to move around for once. It was even Grimsly's idea to set up the chessboard he'd given the stallions the other week out there. This pleased the Captain greatly.
"Well," asked Billet, already looking as if he'd won, "who wants to face me first?"
Caballeron sighed, knowing full well there was only one who even came close to the Captain's skill. "I will." he said. This wouldn't end well, it never did, but it was at least a little more fair than having any other pony go up against him.
"As a show of good faith, I'll take black." said Billet, smiling slyly.
"Good faith... Hah." muttered Caballeron. The round began.
"I'll face the winner," Coco piped up. All the ponies looked at her.
"I didn't take you for a chess player." Spar noted. "Doesn't seem your kind of game."
"You would be surprised, wouldn't you?" Coco replied, sitting down to watch. Piece after piece, Captain Billet gained the advantage. Everypony could see that Caballeron was going to lose, so he only gave a halfhearted resistance.
At least the chess pieces are nice, he mused. They were all rats, or rat-related, naturally. Half of them were carved from dark walnut; the other half carved from a light oak. The pawns were all squat, faceless rats with little crossbows; the castles were antique cannons; the knights were mace-wielding warriors mounted on fierce wolves; the wizards were more akin to hooded executioners than any of their equivalents on a pony chessboard; the queen was replaced by a farmer with a scythe, and the king was replaced with a worker with a long hammer; each was dressed plainly and simply. A subtle political commentary, to be sure, he noted. Republicans, always the artists...
Finally, Billet had gotten his checkmate. Caballeron had stopped paying attention to the board after the tenth move. “Another victory!” Captain Billet exclaimed. “That's what- six for zero now?”
“Whatever you say, Captain.” grumbled Caballeron.
“Oh!” Coco exclaimed, popping up next to him. “Now you have to face me!”
“Sure thing, Miss Pommel.” Billet smirked, as if he didn't expect Coco to be anything close to a threat. “Black or white?”
“You can play white, you'll need the advantage.” she said, sitting down and returning the pieces to their starting positions. While they set the board up, Lieutenant Torner appeared again.
“I trust all is well?” the rat asked.
“Yes, no trouble here.” Caballeron told him.
“Good. You Equestrians keep on minding you manners, and this might become permanent. So long as you're with us, of course.” he said. “I see you've got a game about to start?”
“Indeed, we have!” Billet rubbed his hooves together, smugly smiling. “Miss Pommel thinks she's got what it takes to beat me. Nopony else has yet.”
“We'll see.” Coco said, with a polite smile of her own. The game opened with the usual moves, center pawns moving forward and knights being deployed. Coco sent out her wizard far earlier than Caballeron ever had. Their knights danced around each other for a few moves, while Coco's wizard sat on the side of the board.
“Interesting.” commented Torner, when Coco moved her queen right into the center of the board. He seemed to doubt the designer's strategy. What is she doing? wondered Caballeron. The two traded knights, and Coco got her other wizard right next to the first one, still sitting on the side doing nothing. Eventually, she moved one of her pawns right up to the third row on Billet's side of the board. Billet didn't take it, though, despite having his queen nearby. “He can't,” Torner whispered, “otherwise either one of her wizard's will get his king, or Miss Pommel's queen will be able to within a few moves.”
“This is beyond me.” Caballeron sighed.
Captain Billet deployed his queen to counter Coco's. But Coco ran her wizard right up to the king, taking the pawn in front of him. “Check!” she said, with a hint of excitement.
“You think that will save you?” Billet laughed, moving his king directly in front of the wizard, removing himself from check and now becoming the threatener. All Coco did was move her wizard back one square. “Haha!” the stallion declared. “You've goofed now, Miss Pommel!” Billet's queen swooped in and took Coco's, coming dangerously close to her own king.
Surprisingly, Coco only beamed happily. She pushed her pawn that had moved up earlier, now no longer impeded by Billet's queen, one square forward. “Checkmate.”
“What-” Captain Billet started, before saw it. Her two wizards blocked his king from taking the pawn or moving forward, while his own un-deployed pieces blocked the king from moving any other direction. Her pawn was untouchable, and had cornered the king. “But- How did you-” he stammered, realizing what had happened. “You magnificent little mare. Well-played.” Billet finally said, now smiling despite himself.
“Impressive!” Torner clapped.
“A delightful win, snapped from the jaws of defeat.” Caballeron declared, nodding in approval. It was nice to see Billet laid low by the most unlikely of ponies.
“Thank you,” Coco said, blushing a little, “but I wasn't anywhere close to defeat. I'd been setting that move up for quite a while.”
“It takes no small degree of skill to see that far ahead into the game.” Torner stated. “My own Captain knows that Billet here is good enough, and was thinking about playing him personally, but it seems a new challenger has appeared.”
“What?” asked Coco, ears perking straight up. The glow of victory was replaced by worry. “Why?”
“You won, silly pony!” said Torner, hands on his belt. “You're the best in this group! So you get to play against the Captain!”
“I never agreed to that.” Coco pouted.
“Consider it a courtesy to your host. Have a good evening, ponies.” With that, Torner departed.
“Playing against Captain Barlent...” Quartermaster Forestay chuckled. “Good luck, Miss Pommel. I was informed he was the winner of several tournaments in Hivald and Adin.”
“What happens if I lose?” wondered Coco, her ears now drooping. “Will they toss me overboard?”
“Nonsense.” Cabelleron. said. “He'll probably just boast. We've both talked with this Barlent, he is not a barbarian.”
“True enough.” agreed Captain Billet. “Think of this as an opportunity, Miss Pommel. Win a chess game against our republican captors! Strike a blow for Equestria, for the monarchy, and for the Princess!”
Author's Note
And so the principle conflict of the story, the Horn, is forgotten in the sudden rush of competitive sports. Blame the World Cup for getting me in the mood for a showdown. Actually don't, this was a part of the original plot I made in March.
I literally just finished this, and now I have to go out. If there's any errors, I'll fix them later. I just was desperate to give you an update after so long a silence. Remember, be a good pony and serve your Princess as loyally as she serves you. Cellyahu ackbar!
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Coco
There was some amount of excitement among both ponies and rats that morning. Word spread quickly that the Captain of Sable had agreed to play against the “best Equestrian at chess,” as Sergeant Grimsly phrased it. The game was to be held in the galley, so all off-duty rats, plus the ponies, could watch.
“I would hardly call myself the best...” Coco told Captain Barlent. “I just played with my grandfather after school, that's all.”
“So did I.” the rat captain said. “Please, take a seat.”
Coco sat, and took a look at the board the Barlent had prepared. The board and players were made of oak and cherry. The pieces were older than the ones they had last night, as well: the pawns had poleaxes, the castles were actually castles, the king and queen were both actually a king and queen, rats with crowns, scepters and robes. “This is very nice.” Coco said.
“Yes, it's been in the family for six generations. Greywacke over there doesn't like it,” Barlent pointed to the political officer, lurking in a corner of the galley with his arms crossed, “he says it's counter-revolutionary imagery. Me, though? I call it historical. No point in denying we had a king just forty-five years ago.”
“One of these days, they're going to arrest you.” Torner remarked.
“I invite them to try.”
“Mister- Captain Barlent, why are we having this match, anyway?” asked Coco. “I don't want to be rude, but I really don't understand why ...” The Captain just shrugged.
“Think of it as a friendly competition. You and I are the best of our respective peoples aboard this ship, why not have some fun? In fact, I'll even throw in a prize if you win! I heard you were seeking a new book to read, and even though I'm reluctant to open my collection to rats, or ponies rather, I don't know... if you win, I'll make an exception. Any one book from my collection. Does that sound fair?”
Coco sat a little straighter in her chair, and nodded quickly. “Oh, very much so!” She noted that Caballeron's attention was directed fully at them, ears pricked forward and all. What? Coco attempted to mouth at him, but he just shook his head and returned to his normal reserved self.
By this time, most of the off-duty crew had arrived, as had all the ponies taken from Nutmeg. The energy in the galley was palpable. There were many sports enjoyed in Equestria, both air and land variations of chariot racing particularly, but for the rats of Hivald, chess was a sport held in the highest esteem. “It's a game of wits and strategy.” Caballeron had told her the other night. “You must constantly be attentive and wary, and be striving to find your opponent's weakness all the while. An exercise in intellect and foresight.” From what little she had known of rats before this misadventure, Coco would have assumed that their favored competition was gladiatorial death-matches between slave warriors.
“Well, everyone's here!” Torner announced, pulling out a silver penny from his uniform's breast pocket. “Let's get started. Heads or tails, Miss Pommel?”
“Um, heads, please.”
Torner flipped the coin, and caught it. “Heads it is!”
“Fair enough.” Barlent carefully spun the board around, so that he got the black pieces and she had the white. “Good luck, Miss Pommel.” he said, with a polite smile. “Let the game begin.”
Her first move was a pawn to E4, matched by Captain Barlent's pawn meeting it at E5. “Here we go!” Billet said excitedly. Coco's white wizard moved to C4.
“How very Equestrian of you.” commented Barlent, sending his knight to F6. “I've ever only seen your kind make this kind of opening.”
“We're a traditional nation.” Coco replied. Her own knight mirrored the move, to F4, and Barlent's knight captured her nearby pawn. Not a problem, she told herself. She moved her other knight onto C3, and again lost a pawn at F2 to Barlent's knight. What is he doing, though? Coco wondered as her king took the knight.
The rat's black wizard moved out to C5, checking her king; Sable 's crew muttered and nodded in approval. Coco's pawn moved to D4, and was taken by Barlent's. In return, her castle moved into the E file and put her opponent's king in check. It became the ponies' turn to get excited. When Barlent moved his king out of danger, Coco sent a knight forward to attack his black wizard, forcing it to retreat.
For a while, she considered her next move, as did Barlent. She settled on queen to D3, which Barlent countered by moving up another pawn behind his one on D4, attacking both her knight and white wizard. Coco's queen went to A3, putting his king in check again, and forcing him to move next to the castle. But now what?
The seconds ticked by on the galley's clock. She was about to just move her wizard out of the pawn's way when an idea finally came to her. A very bold idea, Coco realize as she played it out in her head. Instead of fleeing, her wizard took the pawn, and ended up right in the path of Barlent's queen. He did as she expected, and took the wizard.
“A wizard for a pawn?” he asked her.
She said nothing back, not looking up from the board. Her knight went to F6, attacking both Barlent's king and queen. It was easily dispatched with a pawn from G7.
“Why did she do that?” questioned Quartermaster Forestay from behind.
“Looks like your lady-friend is starting to slip up, Doctor!” laughed Torner.
“Nothing's over yet.” Caballeron said. “She'll think of something.”
“You sure?” asked the rat.
“Very sure. This little mare has repeatedly surprised me in the time I’ve known her. I’m counting on it happening again.”
Coco couldn’t help but smirk, despite the game’s situation. She rather liked being described that way. Her queen was sent to F8, which was promptly was taken by the king. “Oh, Miss Pommel, what are you doing?” Billet sighed. “You're supposed to win, not throw the game! Think of what Princess Celestia would say! You can't let these revolutionaries triumph here!”
Again, Coco didn't respond. Politics weren't on her mind, she wanted that new book. Anything was better than Rarity's risque taste in romance novels. Her heart hammered against her chest, and she was so tense she could barely inhale. The game could fall apart at any moment now, at any turn, if the rat saw through her plan. She moved her black wizard to H6, putting the king in check. Barlent moved him to G8. And just like that, Barlent realized what was going on.
Coco's castle moved to E8; the king was pinned between the wizard and it. “Checkmate, Captain.” she breathed out, sighing in relief.
Most of the ponies cheered gleefully, Caballeron looked very satisfied; the rats clapped courteously and talked amongst themselves. For a few more moments, Barlent didn't say a word; his hand to his chin.
“Miss Pommel,” he finally spoke, “it occurs to me I've seen this trap once before. Many years ago... What was your grandfather's name?”
“Durian Pommel, Captain.”
“Durian Pommel...” repeated Barlent, leaning back in his chair. “Durian of Greenland... Winner of the Adin Tournament in the 956th, 958th, 962nd, 974th, and 979th years since the Long Winter?”
Coco grinned. “That sounds like him, alright!”
“I should have remembered that sooner... I had no idea.” the Captain said. “Is he..?”
“No, he passed a few years ago.”
“I'm sorry to hear that. He was an excellent player. I actually faced him in his final tournament in Adin. I was absolutely annihilated within fifteen turns, by the same strategy as yours, but it was an honor nonetheless.”
“Yes, he was quite the master player.” agreed Coco. “Master historian, as well.” Though I had no idea he'd gone as far from home as Adin...
“Well, I suppose I should let you take your prize now, and confer with your fellows.”
“Very well done, Coco.” Caballeron said approvingly. “I knew you'd come through.”
“Excellent job!” exclaimed Billet, stamping a hoof on the deck. “By Celestia, we've sent these republicans packing for today!”
“I just wanted a new book...” said Coco, blushing. She really needed to stop doing that when she was praised; if she got home, it'd be happening a lot more.
Not long after, she found herself in Captain Barlent's cabin. He had the box of books they'd seen in the hold last week brought up, along with all the rest of his collection put on display as well. “Here they are. Half a hundred of them.”
“Wow.” Coco said. “This is a lot for just one ship...”
“A good dozen were taken off ships we've already encountered.” the Captain said.
“Choose wisely.” Grimsly remarked, with a chuckle.
Anything was better than Rarity's loan to her, Coco was after just about anything other than steamy romance. There certainly weren't any romances in this collection. Naval Power as an Extension of National Influence, Alighayri's Divine Tragedy, The Rise and Fall of the Arminian Griffonlaw (100 A.H. -150 P.H.), One Thousand and One Dalmatians... Military-political treatises and histories did not interest her any more than classical Equestrian poetry or pup's stories from Cania. Coco continued to look through. Complete Books of Exodus I-IV, The Phantom of the Orchestra, The Doom in the East, On the New Star-
Wait! Coco shuffled back to the title she'd just seen. The Doom in the East! That was the book Caballeron had been looking for in Adin, and the one he was going to the griffon High King's library to find! It was right here on Sable! She knew what she had to do. “I'll take this one.”
“Really? You can read Old Frithish?” Barlent asked.
“Uh- yes, yes I can. I told you my grandfather was a historian, didn't I?” Coco hoped they didn't know she was lying through her teeth. She couldn't even read Saucer's Canterlot Tales in Medieval Equestrian, let alone something in Old Frithish! “If you say so...”
Coco carried the book back to her cabin, and placed it on the luggage that took up most the floor. The Horn was still behind her suitcase under the hammock, probably starting to gather dust. She had barely thought about the artifact in the last week... Just for competition’s sake, she pulled it out and put it next to the book.
At the first chance she had, after finishing their sail work for the day, Coco brought Caballeron the find. “I didn't want to tell you earlier, it'd ruin the surprise, but look at what I got!” she said, beaming at him as she showed off the book.
“What?” He leaned in, eyes widening as he saw the title. “Miss Coco Pommel, you've done it again! How did this get here?”
“I don't know! The Captain had it. But I know you were looking for this, and now I have it.”
Caballeron nodded eagerly. “You've made this detour worth the trouble. Of all the places in the world to find this book, it ended up right under our noses...” he said, smiling back at her. Coco felt good about that, the stallion didn't smile nearly enough, and when he did it didn’t often seem genuine. This time, it was. But then his happy expression vanished. “Absolutely unbelievable.” whispered he, moving a hoof slowly over the worn front. “They replaced the original cover! Who would do this?”
“What?”
“This is in Old Frithish, see?” He opened the book, and sure enough, Coco had no idea what it said inside. “But the title is in modern Equestrian! The shame!”
“I just want to know what's inside it.” Coco sat down next to him. “What are we looking for, anyway?”
“We?” Caballeron paused, looking into space. “I suppose this has been a team effort... We're trying to find out what that thing next to the book is.” He glanced around, before lowering his voice. “A horn that doesn't make a sound? Carved mysterious runes and spirals? Is this just a broken showpiece, or is it something... more? Something that can set me on one path and close others?”
“I've been having strange dreams since I took it.” Coco said, glancing down at the Horn. “They're strange, surreal... But I can hardly remember them when I wake up.”
“As did I...” It didn't seem Caballeron wanted to talk about the dreams, for he launched into the opening lines of the griffon saga. “I'll give this the best translation I can on the spot. It begins as so: Between the time when the fires consumed Great Griffonia, and the rise of the sons of Arminius, there was King Vortigern... ”
“Who was Arminius?”
“That's a book in itself, Coco. Now, listen closely, we have a horn to find in this text. All I know is that this is the first and almost only reference to it in the world.” And listen closely she did. Much of the opening was about blood; who was son of who and whose fathers had done what. As far as she gathered, the griffon Vortimer was the son of Vortigern, who had sailed into the rising sun on a high adventure. It was some silly quest to prove his masculinity, or something, by traveling into the doomed lands of Great Griffonia, the ancient home of the lords who now ruled in the isles east of Equestria. By retrieving an artifact of power, Vortigern would prove his bloodline’s right to rule. I prefer my novels, Coco thought while her friend read on. Mystery and romance that kept things classy were much more interesting than this dry account of family relations and killing random monsters. Her yawn must have made that clear, because Caballeron stopped.
“Sorry,” she said, covering her mouth, “this isn't my kind of story.”
“Yes, most ponies say that about the things I read... Not enough love, too much violence.” sighed he. “But what can you do? Most ponies have never been where I've been or seen what I've seen.”
“Well, let's get back to reading.” Coco stretched her legs before laying down.
“It was there they met Guthrum, Lord of the Rock, whose people still tarried and huddled near the smoking shores of their homeland. And near Vortigern and his band were, for on the sea's horizon they saw a terrible and false dawn, awaiting their destined arrival. 'Welcome, friends from the western isles,' spoke Guthrum... ”
The saga went on. Again, Coco quickly lost her focus, not sure where anything was or who was doing what or why. But she enjoyed listening. Not to the words themselves, but to Caballeron's voice. It was clear and crisp, but not too sharp, even with his strange accent; an excellent reading voice, that was for sure. Coco put her head on her forelegs, closed her eyes and kept her ears open. She was happy to just be here.
Vortigern's band sailed away from Guthrum's home, perched on its rocky pinnacle, into the false dawn. When they passed over the horizon, his part of the tale ended, for no griffon knew what became of them until Vortigern returned, alone. From there on, the saga was about Vortimer, his son. He pieced together the story by retracing his father's steps as far as Guthrum, before going back to the isle that was now known as Frithland. Then, Vortigern had returned, and told of what had happened to he and his band. Coco felt herself nodding off into sleep...
“We passed through fire and shadow, through blizzards and ice and demons that wore the corpses of a dozen creatures... ” Caballeron recited, sounding as if he were speaking from another room. She could see them, though. She saw frozen mountains burning, plumes of ash spilling into the black sky that rained pumice and ice, underlit by rivers of lava that flowed through the snow-covered husks of cities greater and grander than even Canterlot. She saw the bone-monsters, charred fleshless griffons bound by spiraling magic, violet orbs in empty sockets; she saw the demons, abominations of creature parts melted together, marching slowly towards her, dark blades raised in silent challenge.
“Through them all we fought, though we lost many. When we found the Horn, we thought our quest was at an end. ” But the demons and the bone-monsters had stopped their attacks, they stared at what was left of the griffon band. The cold bit deeper. Something approached, something she couldn't see, and could only feel. Even the air was tense, it pulsed with each moment, faster and faster. The demons shouted in unearthly wails, howls, and cries.
“They hailed him as 'Exarath, the Thrice-born, the Immortal, Night-bringer, Demon-binder, Dream-walker, Lord of Ashes, Lord of Dust, the Winter King.' Then, the demons spoke again: 'The Horn of the Damned has but one master, and he has arrived.' ”
She gasped, eyes opening wide.
“What is it, Coco? I thought you were asleep.” asked Caballeron.
“I saw it.” she whispered. “I saw all of it. It- it must have been another dream.”
“You dreamed about what I was reading?”
“Yes. I saw the snow, and the fires, and the bone-monsters, and the demons...” Coco shivered, and huddled closer to the stallion. “I was having such a nice day, too.”
“Hmm...” Caballeron looked down at her, concern on his face. “Coco, I didn't read anything about bone-monsters . Whatever they were, they were only in your dream.”
“What?” She looked at the book, knowing that the cryptic language would reveal nothing to her. “But I saw everything else you described... They were griffons, all burnt and held together with these strange magic chords, and their eyes were burning...” Caballeron put a hoof over her shoulders.
“We'll keep reading and see where this goes.” he said. Coco nodded. “The Winter King came forth from an infernal gate, the shadows flowed off him like wine-dark water. He took the Horn, and blew it once, echoing through the despairing realm as a keening note. We struck at the Winter King, and seized the Horn, but it was too late. All the spirits of this dead land rose up. Their bodies were burnt until they had not a scrap of flesh left, and twisted magics spiraled about them; in their eyes blazed hell-fire. Our flight to our ship was swift, but only I survived. They waited in the ruins, they waited in the water. The Horn summoned the dead, but it did not send them back. And now, I, Vortigern, pass this instrument of the underworld to you, Vortimer. Bury it so deep that it may never be found, for the Winter King will always be seeking what is his.”
Both ponies sat in silence, and looked at the Horn the Damned laying before them.
Author's Note
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Caballeron
The revelations they'd had last night were disturbing, to say the least. An instrument of the underworld had sat right before them, granting them visions of the past and influencing the present. Coco had been very distraught over the fact she'd been sleeping above this device for the past week and a half.
“What a find.” Caballeron had commented to himself. “If Timar knew what this was, it's no surprise he wanted it so badly...”
His friend didn't seem to care about what he was muttering. “Sleeping won't be easy tonight, not with that thing here.” said Coco, ears drooped.
“All it's done so far is give us dreams.” Caballeron said, waving a hoof. “And as strange as they may be, we have nothing to fear from dreams.”
“Yeah, but remember those two ships to Firthland you wanted to take? Do you think it caused those to break down?” The little mare cautiously pushed the Horn back under her hammock, looking as if it might smite her at any moment. “What if it sinks this ship?”
“If it's brought us here, it brought us here for a reason, Coco. It's not going to sink a ship it's gone out of its way to make me encounter.” He hoped it was enough to assure her, because it didn't assure him. She had a point; if the Horn could effect the world around it, what else could it do?
“Still...” Coco shivered, and looked away. “Do... Do you mind staying here for a bit longer?” she asked. “Not the whole night or anything, just until I fall asleep?”
“I can do that.” he said, nodding. She really is scared.. . It was the least he could do after getting her into this mess, though. “Sleep well, Coco.”
“Thanks, Caballeron.”
While Coco curled up in her hammock and closed her eyes, Caballeron had thinking to do. He remembered that Timar had told him that King Vortigern had gone beyond the Thither Shore to find the Horn. But going by the actual account of Vortigern, he'd gone east instead of west, to the ruins Great Griffonia instead of the Thither Shore. Was Timar misinformed? That doesn't seem like Timar, though, Caballeron countered himself. Timar was the smartest rat he'd ever met, if one of the most underhooved and sneaky as well. Perhaps he knew the Horn came from the ashes of the easterling griffon civilization, and wanted to throw Caballeron off. But why then would Timar share with him the fact that the Horn's story was found in The Doom in the East?
It just didn't make sense. Another option came to him, something Coco had made him think of. What if the Horn had used its powers to deceive Timar, to throw Timar off its true history and aid him instead? Caballeron didn't know if that option gave him relief or apprehension. The idea that the Horn wanted something from him, or was using him, did not give him much confidence in the future.
Then there was the issue of Coco Pommel. She wasn't even supposed to be here! In all his years of traveling the world, Caballeron had never really been close to anypony, or even anything beyond professionally courteous. His tribe, leftovers of some ancient culture living quietly deep in the Hayseed swamps, spoke a strange dialect that left him with a strange accent; he'd been an outsider to other ponies from the start. Sometimes, he wondered if that was why Daring Do and everypony else at Lithton University had been set against him. Not that it would have mattered, he'd gone off with the “wrong” crowd soon enough.
Coco, he reminded himself. What was going to happen to her? There'd been nasty rumors circulating during the dig in Sakutra, where they found the Horn. He heard whispers of what the Rattish State was really doing behind the front lines, captured soldiers and civilians alike herded into work camps... But those were just dogs and zebras, not ponies. The rats wouldn't use ponies for such nefarious activities, right? Coco would be safe from that.
So he hoped. Caring about what happened to another pony was strange. All his life, he'd been the outsider, with nopony to look after. And now, because of this little mare's insistence on being kind to a stranger, he was landed with this responsibility to keep her safe. Why? he asked himself. Nopony had ever cared about him before, and he'd certainly never cared about anypony in return. Why should he care about this one mare now? It was her fault for being so stubborn about the jacket , he thought, she didn't need to put herself in this situation. And yet...
“Hmmph.” Caballeron snorted to himself. He glanced at the now-sleeping Coco; she didn't look happy, but at least she didn't look scared. His part was done here. With one last glance, Caballeron quietly departed Coco's cabin, and closed the door behind him.
Two years of his life had been spent in the company of the disreputable griffon adventurer Ecgberht Etheling, in search of a lost civilization. Not once had they encountered another Equestrian, and those had been two of the most enjoyable years he lived. For a moment, Caballeron let himself believe he'd make it out of this completely free, one way or another. The idea of parting ways with Coco, of returning to a life of passing contacts, lurking enemies, and silent days of travel far and wide, did not appeal to him as much as it had before. Well, maybe the lurking enemies are still exciting, he thought. But it came down to the simple fact he didn't want to walk out of Miss Coco Pommel's life like he had for every other pony in the world.
While he thought, his hooves had taken him to the stairwell leading to the open air of the deck above. “One of these days.” he said to himself.
“One of these days.” agreed the familiar voice of Lieutenant Torner. “What are you doing out of your cabin so late?”
“I needed some air.” said Caballeron. “I don't like being around many ponies.”
“You seem to get on fine with your friend.”
“She's tolerable... Why are you up so late?”
“I have my reasons.” Torner waved dismissively. “Miss Pommel made an interesting choice of book this morning, I was told.”
“Oh?” Caballeron wasn't sure to feign ignorance or not. Best to play it safe, he decided.
“Some griffon saga, about fire and ice and the living dead. Spooky stories, but stories nonetheless.” The rat rolled his eyes. “Have you ever seen a ghost or a zombie, Doctor?”
“No, not exactly. I've dealt with spirit-creatures, and I know there are some powers in this world beyond our understanding. But I have never seen dead that walk.” he answered. “I certainly hope none are out there.” Coco's bone-monsters came back to his mind. She had dreamed about them before he'd even reached that part of the saga.
“Children's tales, if you ask me. Best to place no credence in the myths of a decadent and corrupt age. Or so the government tells us.” Torner shrugged. “Well, you'd better get back to your cabin, Doctor.”
It was a quiet morning with Coco in the hold. They were running out of sails to patch up. “Are... are you feeling alright, Coco?” he asked.
“I dreamed again,” she finally said, not looking up, “this time about somewhere dusty, dry, and cold. The trees were made of stone, and there were only brown clouds above.” Coco spoke in a small, resigned voice, as if the scene she described was an inevitability.
“Ah...”
“And it's not just a dream,” Coco went on, “they're real. I know that now. There's a place somewhere on Earth without light, without warmth, without any life at all. It's a sad, scary place. I know it's real, because I saw it.” Her ears drooped, and she hung her head lower. “Something horrible is out there, and we don't have the Princess here to keep it away.”
Caballeron let his side of the sail fall away, moved to sit next to the little mare, and said: “Yes, there are horrible, terrible things in this world. We're on our own out here-”
“Thanks, Caballeron.” sighed Coco.
“-but we are Equestrians. We stand fast, and face whatever the outside throws at us. We did it with Discord, we did it with the Griffonlaw, we did it in the Long Winter, we did it with Nightmare Moon's return.” He put a foreleg over her shoulders. “And we did it together.”
That got a smile out of Coco. She glanced up with a bit more hope. “We did, didn't we?”
“With united forces, anything is possible.” So sayeth Celestia, Caballeron added silently. Whatever his personal opinions on the Princess's philosophy for Equestria were, this was not the time. “So, stay with me and we will find a way though.”
“Oh, I certainly will.” agreed Coco, nodding enthusiastically.
There were no further shared readings from the Doom in the East , and Coco's mood quickly improved to her usual cheerful demeanor. He, however, did read more on his own. There were some interesting bits about the forbidden art of blood magic and the activation process of the Horn. There was also a section on the Winter King, whatever he really was; it was obvious the griffons hadn't known what to make of the demonic lord. He tried not to let it bother him too much, this saga had been written well over a thousand years ago. Who knew how much things had changed since then?
The next week went by uneventfully, except for a brief stop at the first land they'd seen in the southern hemisphere. Caballeron reckoned they were still well out at sea, avoiding the war zone closer to the shore, which may have been why this voyage was taking so long. Grimsly informed them that the tropical island they were anchored off of was a remote supply dump; they'd take on water and some food but nothing else.
The day came when they were finished fixing every sail kept on the windjammer. “Just in time,” Sergeant Grimsly told them one morning, “our forty-fifth anniversary of the Revolution is just in two more days! You'll be free to join the celebrations.”
“Why would we want to celebrate?” Coco asked. “We're your prisoners.”
“I think we've treated you very well, Miss Pommel!” the rat stated.
“And why would we cheer the overthrow of the rightful king?” added Captain Billet. It seemed he'd taken the time to learn a bit more about Hivald's history.
“Because the oppression was ended, silly pony. We kicked out the evil nobility and replaced them with the ever-benign Party officials.” Grimsly laughed heartily.
“Party officials? Who puts party-planners in charge of anything but parties?” Coco questioned again.
“He means the National Collectivist Party, Coco.” Caballeron said. “It's a political organization, they run the Republic.”
“Yeah, they do.” agreed Grimsly. “All other political parties are outlawed in the interests of securing our democracy and freedom from subversive influences.” The rat wagged a finger like a schoolteacher, before walking off to attend to his other duties.
“Hivald does not sound like a nice place.” Coco said quietly.
“That very much depends on who you are in Hivald.” Caballeron told her.
With no more work to do, the two were allowed to spend time on deck above. They were very glad to get more than a few minutes of fresh air for once, even with the increasingly dry heat. “I can't believe I thought it'd be nice to go on vacation to somewhere warm with my winter coat.” Coco complained, as she huddled in a patch of shade cast by the towering masts and sails.
“Such is life as an Equestria. Cold in the winter, but the rest of the world is too warm. Hot in the summer, but the rest of the world is too cold!” Caballeron smirked. “Of course, it only takes a few months to get used to uncontrolled weather. It is not so bad.”
“I'd differ on that...”
There was a bit of excitement in the afternoon when Sable passed a three-funnel cruiser some distance off. Caballeron couldn't make out the flag beyond a tiny patch of black, but he assumed the burning tree of Hivald was on it. The fact that they received a light-code signal instead of shells proved his guess.
“Can you read what they're saying?” asked Coco.
“It's nothing interesting.” he said. “They're just telling us who they are, where they're going, and where they came from. Common courtesy.” Down near the helm, a rat sailor blinked a similar message out on a spotlight. However, the exchanged continued on past the usual niceties.
“Now what are they doing?”
“It seems they had instructions to give us, a rendezvous location.” A chill passed over him, as he wondered what they were going to be meeting. A prison ship? Slimy-looking intelligence officers, like that Greywacke? Or something more sinister..? Perhaps it was best he didn't know.
“Where?”
“We don't know.” was all Caballeron said on that.
Finally, the long-waited anniversary of the Revolution came. Unlike Equestrian holidays, the rats didn't put up many decorations. All the noticable preparation they did was moving the four portraits of the Tetrarchs out onto the deck for all to see. Also present at the impromptu gallery were the portraits of a few other rats. They learned from Torner that the old-looking one was Sigillum, the progenitor of the collectivist ideology a century prior. The other was Kelstath, the rat who led the Revolution just a few decades ago, and merged collectivism with nationalism. It was his infamous Black Army that overthrew the king, before bringing the National Collectivist revolution to other parts of Hivald that had seceded during the chaos.
“But what if they didn't want to be collectivists?” Coco asked the lieutenant.
“We were taught that some of us had been brainwashed into serving our former masters willingly.” Torner told her.
“Are you sure it wasn't you getting brainwashed?”
Caballeron laughed at that, and Torner scowled. “Careful with your attitude, Miss Pommel, there are some around here who can't take a joke.”
Political Officer Greywacke was out and about on the ship today as well, something neither pony had noticed before. He kept quiet, but was always lurking around and listening in on what the crew was talking about.
“My brother is on the northern front,” one sailor said to an off-duty marine, “he wrote saying that we can hold indefinitely with our current defenses.”
“Cania is a weak country of weak creatures.” the marine spoke. “Nothing can get through the Wirtwigg Line, not dogs nor zebras nor Aravian sand-mongers.”
“I heard food rations were cut again at home, though.” a second sailor piped up.
“And that we're running out of fuel-” another added, before the first sailor interrupted.
“That's seditious talk, no more of that.” he stated sternly, glancing around. When it was apparent the political officer was not nearby, the sailor dropped his voice. “Times are tough at home, but we will persevere. These setbacks are only temporary, my brother assures me.”
Coco and Caballeron looked at each other. There was a lot the rats weren't saying, but they all understood anyway.
“I can't imagine what food rationing would be like.” said Coco quietly, when they were out of earshot.
“I've never stayed in Hivald long enough to find out.” Caballeron answered.
“We'll find out together then, I guess.”
“I suppose so.” When she put it like that, the whole situation didn't seem as bad as it was.
That evening, festivities began with Captain Barlent making a short speech from the wheelhouse. “Forty-five years ago today, Kelstath and his fellow revolutionaries stormed the Greenrock fortress and seized the national armory. That day, the Revolution began, and the Black Army was formed. Within a year, our forefathers had executed the royal family, exiled what nobility did not join the common people, and founded a new government based on the enlightened ideology of National Collectivism. No longer would Hivald be a backwards land of serfs brutalized by its own lords! The true Rattish State rose from the ruins, a free democracy for the people and by the people! Kelstath did not live to see the fruition of his dream, but even now, his Black Army of the Revolution strikes at the corrupt and diabolical regimes of those who would see the destruction of our race and home!”
A great cheer rose from the rat crowd, hammers and hats and helmets were waved, and the banner with the burning tree was hoisted enthusiastically. The ponies watched with worry. “They murdered their own king...” muttered Captain Billet, sneering at the rats. “How base, how vile.”
“What did you expect from rats ?” whispered Quartermaster Forestay.
Caballeron silenced them when Greywacke's silent gaze fell upon the prisoners.
“To commemorate this momentous event in our history, I give you this night to celebrate your freedom. Now go and rejoice that you were fortunate enough to be born a rat of Hivald, and take place in the great deeds of this age. Hail Hivald!” Barlent's speech was finished. If Caballeron didn't know better, he would guess it had been written by the political officer. From their interactions so far, Barlent did not seem so patriotic.
“Well.” Coco commented, looking disturbed. “I hope we never hear anything like that in Equestria.”
“Let's hope so.” agreed Billet. “What's that tree on fire mean anyway?”
Caballeron knew the answer, he'd learned it from Timar. “For two thousand years, the rats carried seeds of a certain tree with them from their ancient homeland, planting them where they went. They planted the last one in Hivald, it was the symbol of the new state. It burned in the Revolution.”
“And they made it their flag ?” Forestay was incredulous.
“It's like they're trying to be villainous.” Billet scoffed.
“They are not a sentimental people.” said Caballeron, thinking back to what Torner had told Coco and he in the shrine the other week. When he had said that they were on their own on this Earth, Torner had replied that most rats felt the same way. What use was an old tree in a world set against them?
Regardless, he wasn't entirely right about the rats. They did enjoy their music, and were quick to break out lutes, flutes, and more to accompany drink and song. First, they went through the sweeping and uplifting tune that was their anthem, Risen From the Ruins. Even the ponies were impressed by it.
But most of the Rattish music was just as homely and down-to-earth as the kind Caballeron had grown up with. It's in a different key entirely, I wonder where they picked that up? Not that it made much difference. Most of the songs they heard that night were about putting a light spin on the dark events of their history. One of the memorable ones was about an old fellow rushing about to find his comically deceitful chickens, as the Smoking Isle erupted into rivers of molten rock and ash, spurring the Fourth Exodus. Even ponies would be hard pressed to find a time for jokes in that.
“Your songs sound like they were made by a bunch of jokers.” Forestay remarked at once point.
“We do the best we can with what we've got.” Torner explained. “Can't be grim all the time, can we?”
“I say we can!” Sergeant Grimsly piped up from elsewhere, despite playing a cheery jig on an accordion.
Billet and the other ponies eventually went back below deck, as did quite a few rats, but Caballeron and Coco stayed moved to the stern deck and watched the last of twilight fade away as they talked. “You know,” Coco said as the first stars emerged out of the coming night, “I could write a book about this adventure.”
“Don't even think about going to A.K. Yearling with this debacle. I don't want to know how she'd twist it.”
“The evil Doctor Caballeron kidnaps an innocent and unassuming mare from her tropical island retreat!” Coco smiled deviously, and went on. “His vile plan is to use her as a bargaining chip for whatever dastardly partners in crime he has waiting for him, in the dark land of Hivald. Can Daring Do save a helpless victim from the Doctor's wicked clutches?”
“You make it sound like you're enjoying this.” said Caballeron, raising an eyebrow. Coco only blushed and giggled. “Are you sure you're the victim here?”
“Even I can't deny this adventure hasn't had its good moments.” she stated, still smiling.
“Hmm.” He couldn't stop from smiling either. “I suppose you have a point. This would have been a dreadful time without you to balance out everything else.”
That got Coco to look very pleased with herself. “I'm glad you care about me.”
She's a bold one, Caballeron thought, trying not to let his surprise show too much. This little mare had more spirit than she knew, most likely.
The night grew darker, the revelry from the rats died down, and the countless stars unfolded above the sails of Sable . It was an entirely new set of constellations from the ones up north. This side of the world looked out over a different part of the universe.
“Wow...” gasped Coco. “I've... I've never seen these stars before. It's like I'm... on an alien planet. I never once thought I'd ever be so far from home. I never wanted to be so far, really.” She stared up and up, taking in all the new beauty of a world unknown to her. “This doesn't make up for any of it... but it sure comes close.” Something soft suddenly pressed against him; Coco leaned her head on his shoulder, still looking up at her alien sky.
“It really is something.” Caballeron said said faintly. A warm feeling stirred in his chest, one he rather liked. There's no going back now. Etheling the griffon had told him that once you opened your heart up, it was mighty hard to close again. There'd be no deal-cutting, betrayals, or opportunistic flights this time. He'd gotten Coco into this mess, and now he was going to get her out. Somehow. But for now, they enjoyed the peaceful quiet of the night.
Author's Note
The rattish anthem is definitely just the DDR's.
As the chapter name implies, things are gonna get crazy soon. Hopefully I can update by the end of coming week, we're only four or five chapters from the end.
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Coco
Something was laughing at her, but she did not know from where. She spun around and around, trying to find it, but saw only empty desolation. Then the cold and dusty plains was shattered by a knock at the cabin door. Coco opened her eyes and blinked, and looked out the porthole: there was an overcast sky for the first time since leaving Manehatten over a month ago.
“Yes?” she asked groggily.
“Miss Pommel, please open the door.” came the voice of Sergeant Grimsly.
Coco rolled out of the hammock and did as told. “What is it?”
Grimsly and two of his marines were waiting outside. “The Captain requires your presence. Come with us, now.” he said. Sable was quiet, it must have been just after dawn.
“Did I do something wrong?” asked Coco, but the rats didn't answer. Her stomach fluttered as she wondered if they had found out about the Horn. And things had gotten so nice...
At the door of the Captain's cabin were two rats she'd never seen before. They were not wearing the white of sailors or marines, but rather slate grey coats which seemed to go over their cuirasses; and instead of hammers and shields, they wielded partisans; an awkward weapon to use on the confines of the ship. Coco didn't have any idea who they might be until she saw the black armbands. Were they from the Army? And if they were, what were they doing on Sable all of a sudden?
Inside was a yet another new rat, plus two more of those soldiers, in addition to Greywacke, Torner, and Barlent. He wore a similar uniform to his soldiers, though without armor, and was just as tall as the Captain, though his brown fur still had far more of a sheen to it. “Hello, Miss Pommel.” greeted the new one, with a slight bow.
“Good morning.” Coco said. “I don't believe we've met, Mister..?” The new rat smiled politely.
“I am Timar of Calimus, or just Timar, if you prefer.”
Timar! That's the one Caballeron keeps mentioning, the one who was on the dig with him! “I'm pleased to meet you, Mister Timar.” How did he get here? Does he know?
“Timar here came aboard early this morning.” Greywacke announced. “He is a highly-ranked member of the Party and has been given full authority here.”
“Indeed.” agreed Barlent, though he did not look happy. “This vessel now answers directly to the Tetrarchy and is no longer operating under the Republic's naval code. As we speak, my marines are working under Mister Timar's orders to find whatever artifact you brought aboard from your cabin.”
For the second time that morning, Coco blinked in confusion. How am I supposed to answer that? How do they know? The panic was rising in her chest, she felt her heart hammer faster and faster, her eyes started to water. What were they going to do to her now? Would they kill her?
“Here it is, sirs.” said a marine, walking in with the Horn. “Just where we thought it would be.”
“Ah, at last, at last!” Timar rubbed his hands together. “I was beginning to fear I wouldn't see this again.”
“They've called it the Horn of the Damned in their conversations.” Torner told them. “Apparently, it doesn't make a sound.” Had the rats been spying on she and Caballeron? They had to have been! Coco sniffed, and pulled herself together. Maybe this entire thing was the result of a long-planned trap, but at least she'd go through it with dignity.
“Yes, we tried to use it after we dug it up. Nothing is blocking the passage, it's just silent.” Timar tapped the horn, and held it up to his eye. “It was something of a mystery to us. Caballeron said he had an idea of how it might work, but he needed to find a certain book first. Isn't that right, Miss Pommel?”
“I wouldn't know.” she spoke, trying to think of the least incriminating thing to say.
“This one knows more than she lets on.” said Timar, turning to the Captain and waving at him with the Horn. “Confine her to her cabin until we reach port. We'll deal with her and the Doctor there.”
“As you command.” said Barlent, snapping his fingers and nodding to Grimsly.
“Back to your cabin, Miss Pommel.” Grimsly sighed. “It won't be long, we'll make landfall this afternoon.”
Very little of note happened between then and the arrival at port. The marines came back and escorted her to the top deck, and onto the dock, where Caballeron already was. Above, the sky was still overcast, and it was far cooler than it had been a few days earlier. It was warm, but not uncomfortable so. But what she noticed most of all was how dry the air was. The little port Sable had put into was a sad excuse for a town; the buildings were dilapidated and many windows had been boarded up. At the next dock, Nutmeg was also being tied up, and beyond the town was nothing but a grey-brown expanse of rocky desert, with high peaks far on the horizon. She didn't see a single tree, nor even a shrub out there. What is this place? Coco wondered. She would have asked Caballeron, but he remained silent even as they stood together, appearing to be deeply concentrated on something. Maybe it was best for her to keep quiet too.
Timar strolled down the gangplank, followed by his soldiers. “Welcome to the Republic of Hivald.” he said, gesturing for them to follow. “You two were no doubt told that you would be sent to a neutral country after your vessel's cargo was taken. However, we need Doctor Caballeron here, and since you aided him in the deception of Sable' s crew, we'll be taking you along Miss Pommel.”
Her heart fluttered. “Along to what?” she asked, recalling just what the Horn did.
“A crucial event in the history of my people, dear pony, a crucial event indeed.” Again, Timar rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation.
They were not alone in the streets, Coco noticed. It took her a few moments to realize this town wasn't full of beggars, that the weary, hungry-looking, bedraggled people dressed in old and patched clothes were actually just the ordinary inhabitants. When they saw Caballeron and she, there were looks of fear and confusion. How many of them have ever seen a pony before? Coco asked herself. The youngest rats of the town just looked at them with wonder, though. She was suddenly very conscious of her bright mane and bright coat, compared to the muted greys and browns of this dreary place.
The only other colors in the town were on posters, and there were quite a few of those about. On every blank space of wall, on every post and door, there was some kind of reminder. “If you've done nothing wrong, you've got nothing to fear!” one poster said, showing what Coco thought were members of the police talking to a worker.
Another poster showed a distraught dog of Cania crying out to a zebra, all the while stabbing a rat in the back, which read “The dog cries out in pain as he strikes you, beware!”
A third showed a row of soldiers marching, heads turned to the ghostly images of warriors from the distant past, with the words “As we fought then, so we fight now.”
But it was the next poster that got to her. An exhausted mother looked at bread in a market, while her child remarked “It didn't used to cost this much.” Above them, the King of Cania and a zebra eagerly signed an embargo on the Rattish State presented by the most wicked and cruel Princess Celestia she'd ever seen, who grinned down on the scene below in evil delight. Coco felt a burning anger rise in her as she saw her Princess so slanderously portrayed. “Disgusting...” she said to herself.
The two captives were placed in a mostly-empty warehouse, where more soldiers of what could only be the Black Army were waiting. Most of them were armed with the same partisans she'd seen earlier, though some sharpshooters with crossbows were present. Up on a catwalk, there were two rats standing with a tripod-mounted cannon. Why they needed a cannon inside a building was beyond Coco's imagination.
“Sit.” ordered Timar. They did as told, sitting down on the cool concrete floor. He quickly vanished back outside, leaving the two alone but for the soldiers.
“What went wrong?” she whispered to her friend.
“Timar talked to me earlier.” Caballeron grumbled. “He was the one who sent the commerce raiders up north to find us. He really wanted the Horn back, and now he's got it.”
“Is that bad?”
“We read the same book, Coco,” whispered he, “I think it is.”
“So what will happen now?”
“I don't know.”
That was all they said for the moment. Caballeron was very on edge, staring sternly into space as he thought up... something. That's what he had to be doing! Coco let him be, and tried to figure out the situation for herself. Caballeron and she had wondered if it was the Horn's plan all along to get them on Sable , and if Sable led them to Timar... Did the Horn want to be found by the rat? And if it did, why did it choose this Timar? What was so special about him? All Coco knew about Timar was that he and Caballeron had dug up the Horn together, before Timar tried to steal it.
And now they'd caught her helping him. A part of Coco was angry at this whole mess, another part wanted to cower in fear. It was all she could do to look calm and collected, as a lady ought to. It's what Rarity would do, she thought. If Rarity was here, her friends would show up and come up with a plan to rescue them from these rats. But Coco's only friend here was stuck right next to her; he wasn't an Element of Harmony, he didn't have direct access to the Princess. He was just an archaeologist, and voluntary exile from Equestrian society at that, by his own words. What could they possibly do?
Timar returned, with the heavy iron chest she'd seen Caballeron with weeks ago in tow. He had his soldiers put it right in front of them, and open it. There sat the Horn of the Damned. A soldier placed a stool next to the chest, where Timar sat and looked down on the two.
“I have spent fifteen years hunting for this.” he told them. “Fifteen years! From Great Griffonia's ruins, to the halls of Arthasium, I ventured in my search. Doctor Caballeron here helped me finally locate it down in the Akravid Realm, on the island of Sakutra. It'd been hidden there in some kind of temple, and warriors buried alive with it. Apparently they were supposed to stay in stasis until there was an intruder, but the spells failed. For the best, really.”
Coco could only stare silently. Akravid? Sakutra? Buried warriors?
“You didn't tell her, did you?” laughed Timar.
Caballeron scowled. “It wasn't necessary to frighten her with what we found in there.” he said.
“Since when did the infamous Doctor Caballeron care about one mare's feelings?” wondered Timar. “You're not playing the part Daring Do gave you very well.”
“To hell with Daring Do!” spat Caballeron. “That witch has ruined me, time and again! This Horn was supposed to get me out of this business forever!”
“No wonder you stole it.” Timar said with a wry smile.
“What?” asked Coco, looking between the two.
“I only stole it from you when I found out what you were going to do.” Caballeron stated, ears laying back. “I just turned on you before you could turn on me. And unlike what you planned, I let you live! I see that was a mistake, now.” It really was, Coco found herself agreeing. It felt dirty to wish another living soul was not so living.
“You know,” Timar turned to Coco, “he might be making this up entirely. Or maybe he's telling the straight truth. You have no idea, do you?”
“I believe him.” said Coco, letting her ears go flat too. “You're with the Republic's government, and all I've seen from them are the lies on the posters outside! Why wouldn't you be a liar too?”
“Oh, dear Miss Pommel, blinded by love of your Princess like all the rest.” Timar shook his head. “I'm afraid that's all true. Thanks to your benign leader's embargo, food, fuel, and all goods are scarcer than ever, and what little we do have must go to the war effort.”
“So much for all that talk of victory we've been hearing.” Coco said.
“Just you wait, my little pony, just you wait.” threatened the rat. “By the time we are through here, the Black Army will break this stalemate on all fronts. We will be unstoppable, and rid the world of those who have so long dared to stand above us!”
“When have rats ever stood above anything?” asked Caballeron. “All I see in Hivald is poverty and misery.”
Timar stood up, and turned his back to them. “My people's history is a series of nights and days. Short days, and protracted nights. With your help, I intend to change that.”
“Why would we help you? ” Coco questioned, frowning.
“I don't need you, Miss Pommel. I need the Doctor here. He will activate the Horn of the Damned. And if he doesn't... I kill you.” Timar clasped his hands again, and gave her a smug smile. For a moment, a stab of fear struck through Coco. But...
“Very well.” growled Caballeron.
“That's a good pony!” clapped the rat. “Who would have thought you'd finally find a girl, after all these years? I certainly didn't.”
“We're not-” Caballeron started, before Coco cut him off.
“I don't think-”
“Oh, please.” Timar rolled his eyes. “We don't have time for dramatics. You, Doctor, need to tell me everything. Follow me.”
They were pushed to a smaller room in the warehouse, what looked like an office. “You'll have to get that griffon book I had.” Caballeron told them. The rats brought it, after a quarter of an hour.
“So this is it?” Timar asked, tapping the cover. “That saga you went on about was aboard Sable the whole time?”
“They captured it from another ship, apparently.”
“That seems awfully convenient.”
“Yes... Yes, it does, actually.” agreed Caballeron. His eyes turned to her, and narrowed ever so slightly. Does he have an idea? “Give me a day with this book, Timar, and I'll have what you want.”
Coco could only hope whatever his plan was, it had better work.
Author's Note
This is what a partisan's blade part looks like. The next chapter is almost done, and I have a very clear of idea of everything that happens from here on out. Strap in, we're finishing this story this week.
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Barlent
“Are all the ponies back on their ship?”
“Yes, Captain. Unfortunately, we've taken their coal and all their cargo, including most of their provisions. They won't be going anywhere anytime soon.” Lieutenant Torner reported.
“Even if they had all that, they wouldn't be leaving anyway.”
“What do you mean sir?”
“Read.” From his coat, Barlent pulled a torn-out page of the town newspaper, dated to several weeks ago. It took Torner a moment to react.
“Heaven and Earth save us all.” his lieutenant growled, folding up the newspaper and giving it back to the Captain. “That's it, then?”
Barlent folded his arms, and glared at the Black Army soldiers in the town. “Whatever this Timar's plan is, it had better work. We'll be lucky if Celestia doesn't fly down here herself and burn everything to a crisp.”
Their plan, however, had gone perfectly. The listening tubes installed in the cargo hold had given them a decent-enough idea of what the ponies were hiding. When Timar's ship had met them just off the coast, they'd been able to tell him they had exactly what he was after. The Horn of the Damned... Barlent still didn't know what it did, or why it was so valuable.
Now, here they were, safe at home in the port of Ariqua. It was a sad town the clung to the edge of the inhospitable Atamar desert. For being located on the edge of the southern tropics, the heat was not bad at all. But between the sea and the high mountains many dozens of miles distant, there was not a drop of water to be found. It had not rained here in three years, and last time it did, it had barely been a quarter of an inch of precipitation. Some said it was the driest place in the world. Even if it wasn't, it was still an unpleasant land; these rats only lived here because it was the lone port for a hundred miles in either direction.
In the afternoon, Timar invited Torner and he to listen in on the plan. Doctor Caballeron and Miss Pommel were both seated before that same book Pommel had won in the chess game. In front of the book was the Horn, the heart of all this trouble.
“Captain Barlent has worked hard to help get this instrument here, Doctor.” Timar spoke, as he paced around the ponies. “Would you be kind and tell him what it is?”
“The Horn of the Damned is an artifact that came out of Great Griffonia.” Caballeron said, his eyes tracking Timar around the room. “The griffons who possessed it were convinced by a story to hide the Horn as far from them as they could. They gave it to a powerful sorceress of the Akravid Realm, who agreed to bury it in an underground temple, with her own warriors frozen in stasis to guard it against intruders. With time, the spells failed, and we recovered it eleven-hundred years later.”
“Akravids?” Barlent asked, feeling a shiver go down his spine. “How did you convince them to let you dig up one of their temples?”
“Recall the saying of Kelstath, dear Captain: political power grows out of the barrel of a cannon.” Timar tapped the side of his head, and smiled. “And the Akravids do not have cannons.”
No, but they have magic, thought Barlent. Was the last truly neutral power in the known world now against Hivald too?
“I tell you these things because what we have before us is powerful , very powerful!” continued Timar, jabbing a finger in the air. “It will win us the war, and then some! Tell them Caballeron, tell them what it is!”
The stallion looked like he wanted to strangle the rat, if he had hands. “It is a weapon of the ancient world.” Timar nodded, gesturing for him to go on. “If the griffon saga is to be believed... the Horn of the Damned can summon the dead.”
It took several moments for Barlent to realize there was no punch line coming, that Caballeron was actually serious. “Impossible. No such power exists!”
“That's what the book says, Captain.” said the pony.
Torner clenched his fist, and spoke before Barlent could stop him. “You dragged us into a war with Equestria over a book's claim about some old horn? Do you have a single piece of evidence that this thing even works?”
“War? What happened?” Miss Pommel suddenly piped up.
“Now, no one has even touched this weapon in well over a thousand years-”
“You blithering imbecile, you've doomed us all!” roared Torner, drawing his sword. The Black Army soldiers instantly leveled their partisans at him, and Barlent sighed helplessly. “I ought to kill you right here! What will happen to Hivald when your master plan of playing magician fails? What misbegotten corner of Earth will still be open to us when they drive us from our homes? What will they do to us when our lines break, and they out what you've done? There won't be a Fifth Exodus, there won't be any of us left to make it!”
“Enough!” barked Timar. “Lieutenant Torner, your lack of faith disturbs me. For that, you and your Captain will accompany us to the activation. You will see the truth! Once Doctor Caballeron here figures it all out, of course.”
Torner slammed his sword back into its sheath, shaking with rage, before he stalked out of the office.
“That's quite some control you have over your officers, Captain.” remarked Timar.
“If I was ten years younger, I would have joined him.” Barlent spoke, flicking his tail. “But you can't fight the inevitable. For our tribe's sake, Timar, don't be wrong. I would not have our blood be remembered for bringing the end upon us.”
“Our blood?” asked Timar, shaking his head. “We share a common ancestor, and that's it. You border on counter-revolutionary, Captain. I am a servant of the Republic. We will deal with your kind all in good time.”
It was evening by the time Barlent saw his second-in-command again. He was staring out at the dark sea spanning the eastern horizon. “Doomed.” he said. “Magic and myths... We're all doomed.”
“Yes.” agreed Barlent. “I think we are.”
They were quiet for a long while. The next sound they heard was the clip-clop of hooves on cobbles. “Hello, Miss Pommel.” greeted the Captain. “What are you doing out here?”
“Timar let me out for air.” she said. There was no escort for her... Not that she needed any, a pony wouldn't last long in the desert here. “Mister Torner, what was that about Equestria earlier?”
“Your Princess declared war on us several weeks ago.” Torner sighed.
“Here.” Barlent took out the newspaper again, and showed it to the pony.
“The Long-Awaited Attack: ” Pommel read aloud, “The Despot Celestia issues formal declaration of war after months of undeclared hostilities in Rattish waters. Not content with attempting to starve the Rattish State into submission, the alicorn tyrant- No, I won't read any more. You know very well it was you who attacked us !” the little mare stated, scowling.
“Yes, Miss Pommel, we are aware, we did the attacking.” said Barlent, retrieving his paper. “All for some silly horn and some hair-brained scheme to raise a- a- a zombie army? Is that right? Madness... It's all madness.”
“Well, he will.” Pommel said, her anger replaced by unease. “I've seen what it can do, in my dreams. When Caballeron figures out how to make it work... You'll be able to raise the dead, I guess.”
“Dreams?” scoffed the Captain. “My dear, that is not very good proof of anything.”
“We read from the Doom in the East, and I fell asleep during it. But I saw what was happening, even before he had read those parts. I saw the Winter- I saw the Horn bring those monsters to life.” Pommel looked at her hooves, shuddering. “I told Caballeron before he knew it'd happen in the account. And he told me today that the Horn needs some kind of blood ritual to awaken.”
“Great, blood magic. The only reason we're in this mess is because of blood magic, two thousand years ago! We survived the pegasi only to be exiled time and again from every home we found, and soon this one too! And now Timar's solution is blood magic, again?!” Torner yelled at the dark clouds above. “Has anyone learned anything ?!”
No one spoke for a heavy moment.
“Do we deserve this?” finally asked Torner. “Has everything that's happened to our wretched people been some kind of divine punishment for an offense we made once? At least the griffons got a new home they could stay in, when their god turned on them. For us... nothing. Is that our fate?”
To that, Barlent could respond. “Pity, o Lord, the Rat, then, long by waves of danger tossed; help him by thy strong hand when he on grief’s sea may be lost. Fate, who for so long did’st frown, bring him happy times and ways; atoning sorrow hath weighed down all the sins of all his days. ” Pommel and the lieutenant both looked at him. “The royal hymn,” Barlent explained, “the last part of a prayer to your Sky-lord, Torner. That's the song I learned when I was a boy, when the flags were red instead of black, and we had a baron in the manor instead of a civil production minister. You'd be shot for saying it out loud now, but I suppose it doesn't make a difference.”
“When was that written?” Miss Pommel asked.
“For our people, any century would have done.” said Torner. “All the sins of all his days... Yes, that's more fitting than our anthem now. We swore there would never be a Fifth Exodus after coming here, the vow of every king from the start to the end. There might not even be a Fifth, they might just kill us all and finish this sorry tale. But if there is to be an exodus... I would have been nothing but a poor serf in the kingdom, but I think I would rather have been a poor serf with a home than a poor wanderer without one.”
“We all would. If Hivald is to fall, most of us are going with it. The kings are gone, but the vow lives. I'm ready to die, Torner. I can accept that. But Timar, and many more, aren't. They're going to do whatever they can to prevent the inevitable.”
“Wait, hold on.” Miss Pommel interrupted, looking terribly confused. “Why do you think you're all going to die? These townsfolk have done nothing wrong, you two haven't really done anything wrong... Why would they kill you?”
“After what we've done to Cania? Do you think they won't take revenge on us?” asked Torner.
“Two wrongs don't make a right!” protested the pony. “Princess Celestia would never allow innocents to be harmed. And if we really are at war with Hivald, that'll apply to rats as well as anything else.”
“Celestia is the one who put the embargo on us in the first place.” Barlent reminded her.
“If the Princess thought your government hadn't done something to warrant that, then she wouldn't have put it on you in the first place.” said Pommel. “And governments and their subjects are very different things, Captain.”
“What are you saying?” asked Torner again.
“I'm saying what you said a few weeks ago, Lieutenant. Princess Celestia is the wisest of all beings, you said that! Would she condemn an entire nation because the actions of a few? I don't know what awful lies you've ready about the Princess, but not one is true! You don't need to do this to save your people!” The little mare was certainly obstinate in her faith in her divine Celestia's mercy. “That is what you want, right?”
“Yes, it is...” Barlent agreed wearily. “But what can we do? Timar has the Army here, and the Horn, and you ponies! Torner and I can't stop him from using it, if what you say about it is true.”
“I... I don't know.” Pommel confessed, before lowering her voice. “Caballeron has an idea. He told me. It's... a very long shot. But this Horn is evil, Captain. Pure evil, and nothing less. If your government gains its power...”
“The whole world will suffer for it.” Barlent stated. “Make no mistake of that. But are you telling me, that if the Republic falls and we are beaten, that your Princess will let my people keep their homes? There will be no retribution on them for what we have done?”
“Yes. I could not believe that Princess Celestia would ever allow innocents to suffer for crimes they did not commit.”
“You're asking us to gamble with the fate of our nation, on your word alone, for a plan we haven't even heard to stop an artifact we don't even know works?” Torner questioned.
“The Horn works. If you don't believe me, you're welcome to go and meet one of those undead monsters Timar is going to make. Maybe then you’ll wish you had listened.” Pommel put her hoof down on the street; Torner just sighed and put a hand over his eyes.
“I can't believe I'm being roped into high treason by a pony seamstress talking about children's stories!”
“I'm a designer, not a seamstress!”
“Quiet.” Barlent ordered. “We'll be taking Grimsly and some of our marines along to this 'activation' Timar mentioned. Whatever you need us to do to shut Timar down, we'll do it.”
“Treason aside,” Torner chimed in, “blood magic ruined our nation once. I'm not letting that happen again, not with a chance to stop it. If Hivald falls, so be it; at least our people will live to see a better day.” He paused, before eying the pony more closely. “We do have a chance, right?”
“Caballeron said if we play our cards right...” Pommel looked uneasy again. “We'll just have to hope, won't we?”
Author's Note
Coco takes charge, and the author tips his fedora to the Hungarian people. Oh, and the obligatory Doom (Hope?) Paul, considering how close to the end we are:
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Caballeron
“We'll need blood, then?” Timar asked, walking back and forth in front of him.
“Not a lot. Just enough so that the Horn can absorb the power. Once it does... Well, you will know it when you see.” said Caballeron, looking at the pages of the book before him. There was no clear activation ritual, the account just told that blood was used to awaken the Horn. He assumed that one would just pour it on and let the Horn do the rest. Maybe that's what the spiral grooves and markings are for? It was his best bet. “You should have learned Old Frithish, Timar.” he said. “You could have read this for yourself.”
“A waste of time, that's what ponies like you are for.” The rat smirked, before getting back to the subject. “In the old stories, it was said only certain kinds of blood would work for magic.” said Timar, hand on chin. “Certain kinds of blood... Powerful kinds.”
“I'm afraid I don't know the specifics of blood magic, considering it is a crime worthy of the death penalty in Equestria.” Not that anypony had been a victim of the death penalty in two hundred years. But then again, no pony in Equestria had used this dark art in twice as long, as far as Caballeron knew.
“Well, it's a good thing we're not in Equestria!”
“I'd rather be there than here, there's no guarantee you're not just going to kill me anyway as soon as you have what you want.”
“A fine point, good Doctor.” Timar clasped his hands. “A fine point.”
His plan was his last hope, then. Failure to help Timar led to death. Helping Timar led to death. Stopping Timar? It would probably lead to death, but at least there was a chance it wouldn't. Once again, he considered himself lucky that Timar couldn't read this text. These rats had no idea what they were toying with. Or who would instantly be alerted to its whereabouts once it was used...
“What we'll be doing is taking a convoy out into the desert, away from any prying eyes.” Timar said later in the night, once they'd finalized all the details. “We will activate the Horn, and use it on a small number of corpses, about a hundred. Consider it a test run. And once I have my proof that the Horn of the Damned will save this nation, we will use it on every battlefield, on every front! The world will fall before an undying army!” The rat was so absorbed by his vision of the future that he didn't even realize the irony of using damned and saved in the same sentence.
Caballeron and Coco were both put on some burlap sacks in a corner for sleeping. It was far from comfortable, but it was better than the concrete. As the night drew on, everything got colder. “Finally, my winter coat is useful.” remarked Coco, with a small laugh.
“At least something is right.” said Caballeron. “Did you talk to the Captain?”
“Yes.” Coco nodded. “I think they actually believed their own propaganda about the Princess. They thought we were going to kill them all!”
I don't blame them for thinking that, Caballeron thought. He'd heard the whispers of what was happening in occupied Cania. Deportations, slave labor, massacres... hallmarks of a nationalistic war. Textbook, even. “How much did you tell them?”
“Not too much. Not that you told me much in the first place.” Coco looked away, ears drooping. “I said it was a long shot at best.”
“That's true enough.” sighed Caballeron. “If they succeed, you know that they'll just dispose of us afterward, right?”
“Yeah...” Her ears fell even further.
“This is the only option with even a chance of us surviving. I don't like it any more than you do, but it's better than standing around waiting for them to shoot us.”
“I know...” The look on her face said otherwise.
I can't help but wonder if it would have been better if we'd never met, Caballeron thought, a grim mood falling on him. “You do know what the Rattish State has done in Cania, don't you?” he asked. “They'd bring that to Equestria if they could. Your home- our home.”
“They're a desperate people, Caballeron. They think if they lose, they will all die for what their country has done. I don't want to know what, but I think I can guess.” said Coco quietly. “I'm not surprised now, that they'd try to control evil powers if it meant saving their people. I told the Captain that they were wrong about the Princess, and the others, but... Will it be enough?”
“I think so. We have three options. The Horn fails to work, we die and Hivald falls; the Horn works just as the book says, we die, and Hivald conquers the Earth; or... The Horn works, and blood magic once again proves to be something not to be trifled with… Just maybe we survive, too. But if we don't, we die having stopped this scourge.”
“We'd be heroes, if anypony knew what we did.”
Hah! Caballeron smiled weakly. “A hero? Well, it might be nice to be on the good side for once in a story. I don't know if you've heard, but I tend to be typecast...”
Coco put a hoof on his. “You've always been on the good side, at least for me.” she said, smiling back. “If you really were a villain, you would have left me stranded on St. Garnet with no way home.”
“Let Daring Do figure that one out...” muttered Caballeron. At least his death would leave her baffled, he'd have that last laugh. At least he'd die with one friend in the world. If they died here. There were so many ifs in this plan. And Coco seemed to know he was thinking that.
“Tell me, Caballeron,” she said, “do you actually think we have a chance?”
He didn't answer for a few moments. “More than we would otherwise.”
For once, Caballeron wanted to dream when he went to sleep. The terrible visions that had haunted him since the Horn came into his possession would be re-assuring tonight. True enough to their habit, they came. But this time, his dreams were only of gently-falling snow in a quiet, leafless forest.
He didn't know what to make of it in the morning. “Did you dream?” he asked Coco.
“Just about snow.”
“The same as me.” Very strange. Timar’s soldiers walked them out of the warehouse at sunrise, and herded them to a long convoy of automobiles, of the truck variety. Caballeron was not very familiar with these strange machines; they were like cars that ran without tracks beneath them. The internal combustion engine wasn't new, exactly, but it had not caught on in Equestria nor in the surrounding regions with developed railroad; it was surprising to find it this far from the homeland. But then again, the ruggedness of Hivald may have been more friendly to automobiles than trains.
Most of the trucks had their beds covered by canvas stretched over a series of hoops, like the covering of a wagon. A few were more open, with only canvas tops to provide shade, and benches hastily installed. If he had to guess, they'd be traveling in one of those. Some of the trucks were set up to tow the cannons the rats had with them. As they walked towards the convoy, a musty stench hit them, coming from the covered trucks.
“How vile!” complained Coco, scrunching her nose. They didn't have to guess at what was in there. To summon the dead, you need some dead, Caballeron supposed. No doubt that the soldiers had dug up the entire graveyard of this poor town to get those bodies.
Timar waved them to the front of the convoy, where they were pushed into the back of the lead truck, sitting in the bed right behind Timar and his driver. Between the two ponies was the box with the Horn, and quite a few soldiers seated next to them.It seemed that the threat of them destroying the Horn, somehow, had been considered. But they needed it just as much as Timar did now.
“Well, Doctor, and Miss Coco, we're off to inaugurate a new era of world history!” Timar clasped his hands. “Forward!”
Author's Note
Next chapter is done but needs editing. But I'll be busy this afternoon, we'll see if it's up then or up tomorrow morning. And I almost forgot, here's what the rat trucks look like: just imagine them in tan or something.
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Coco
Most of the rats were silent on the drive into the desert, except for the occasional exchange between Timar and his driver. The convoy followed a barely-marked track deeper and deeper into the rocky and dry expanse; as they went on, the sky became cloudier and cloudier. “Do you think it'll rain?” Coco asked, though the wrong person answered.
“Possibly.” answered Timar. “Rain storms come through here every few years... Perhaps it is a sign? The waters of life coming to a desert inhabited by nothing at all, just as we set out on this grand venture?”
“Hmmph.” Caballeron snorted. Coco was with him on this. Those didn't look like rain clouds up there... Was this too the work of the Horn? If it really was behind breaking those ships she'd been told about, and bringing them to exactly the right place and time that allowed them to find the book, could it change the weather too? That was a chilling thought. The fact that the weather out here was uncontrolled in the first place barely registered with her.
They drove for hours, deeper into the desert. It was some kind of twisted divine providence that none of these rickety-looking trucks ever broke down on the rough track. Coco was feeling every bump and jolt, but it wasn't just the bouncing around that was starting to make her feel sick. The further they went, the more nervous she got. When they finally stopped, well past midday, Coco didn't know if she was relieved or even more frightened.
“We have arrived.” Timar announced. “Out, out, everyone out! You two, get the Horn,” he ordered to the soldiers, “the rest of you, set up the bodies and take positions.” The rats jumped to it. “And as for you, ponies and officers of our esteemed Navy...” Timar gestured to Captain Barlent, Lieutenant Torner, Sergeant Grimsly, and his marines, who had ridden in the truck closest to the body-carriers. “Well, you'll be coming with me.” He waved for them to follow.
“Why are we so far out here, Timar?” asked Barlent, hand on sword hilt.
“This is a test run, Captain, we don't want prying eyes and loose lips about, do we?”
The area they had come to was below a shallow ridge; rats were pulling their cannons to the top. Just in case, huh? Beneath the ridge, other soldiers were laying out the bodies. A few were fresh corpses, if fresh meant buried within the last few years. But most of them were long-decayed, just skeletons with bits of leather flesh. Those ones scared Coco more. Those were the ones she'd seen in her dreams, as griffons instead of rats. She'd never seen a rat skeleton before, she had no idea how terrifying they were. A griffon skull at least looked like a griffon's; a rat's skull was something out of a nightmare. Coco stood much closer to her friend as she watched the corpses be laid out.
Meanwhile, Timar had opened the box, and removed the Horn from it. The dark artifact with its bleak iron bands, spiraling grooves, and strange runes lay open for all to see. “The instrument of our deliverance.” commented Torner.
“I do like that, but be careful, Lieutenant.” Timar warned him. “It's not too late to end up on my bad side. That won't be a pleasant place to be, in short order.”
Barlent and Caballeron looked at each other, and Barlent nodded ever so slighty. So it's on, then, Coco thought. Not even she knew the whole plan, though she had a guess at it. The marines waited a distance off, to the side of the Black Army soldiers. By now, all the bodies had been laid out in a grid; there must have been at least a hundred of them.
“Oh, how I've waited for this.” Timar rubbed his hands, and approached Caballeron. “You got far, Doctor, and you almost made it home. But fate had delivered you to me, instead. This is destined, this is ordained, this is the fate of a nation! Here, now, today!” He turned to the assembled soldiers. “My people, sons of Hivald! For two thousand years your ancestors searched this Earth for a home, only to be driven out time and again! And now the forces of evil are at our doorstep! Dogs, zebras, Aravians, and now Equestrians too, led by the Tyrant Celestia! Your homes are to be burnt, your families butchered, your lands taken, just as it has always been! But it need not be so!”
Timar raised the Horn above him with one hand. “Behold!” he shouted, before glancing at Torner. “The instrument of our deliverance! A weapon of the ancient world, forged in fires of power unknown by any modern science! With this, we will raise an army that shall not know fear, that shall not know hunger, that shall not know pain, that shall not know defeat! The legions of Hivald will strike out against the nations of the Earth, that have for so long stepped down upon us! This, my people, is our hour! Hail Hivald! ”
“Hail Hivald! ” the soldiers shouted, raising their weapons.
“And now...” Timar drew a knife from his coat with his other hand. “Doctor Caballeron, remind me of your instructions.”
“Let your blood fall on the Horn.” Caballeron said, calmly. “That’s what it needs.”
Timar gestured one of his soldiers forward, and handed him the Horn. “So it begins.” he whispered, before cutting his own palm over the Horn. Drops of red blood splattered onto the instrument, and sizzled. The runes briefly flared a dull red, before cooling to their former darkness. Nothing else happened. “Doctor Caballeron,” growled Timar, “have you been lying?”
“This is blood magic, Timar! Obviously you have the wrong blood!”
“Really?” Timar raised an eyebrow. “What is it that would lack in a rat's blood?” He paced about, waving his knife at them. “The griffons in your saga, the great ones of old, they had magic. Rats do not.” A realization came upon him. “Miss Pommel, I was told you come from the landed elite.”
“Y-yes..?” Coco said, her heart fluttering.
“Are there any unicorns in your family?”
“Three generations back-” Too late, Coco too realized what Timar had.
“Rats do not have magic, but ponies do!” He seized her hoof, and held it straight out.
“No-!” Coco tried to say.
“You want power?” Timar asked, looking at the Horn. “How's this for power?!” He plunged his blade into her leg, and wrenched it down the length. Coco shrieked in horror, even as her blood spilled onto the Horn.
Instantly, the runes came alight, brilliant purple instead of dull red. The light spilled into the spiraling grooves and spread over the length of the Horn. “Yes!” Timar roared, hoisting the Horn above him. He laughed in wicked delight. “Yes! That day has come!”
Caballeron pulled Coco back, away from the Horn. He put a hoof firmly around her, and held tightly. She tried to speak, but found she could only whimper, and looked everywhere but at bleeding gash down her leg. She wouldn’t even be able to walk… That would have to wait, though; because Timar had the Horn, and it was awakened. “Use it!” Caballeron whispered, a wildness in his eyes. “Use it!”
“What's the plan, Doctor?” Barlent asked, kneeling down by Coco.
“He needs to use the Horn!” hissed Caballeron.
“What then?” pressed the Captain.
“You get a truck for us and your marines and fight your way out if you have to!”
“And what makes you think-” Barlent was cut off, for Timar had raised the Horn, and now sounded it.
An unearthly wail screamed across the land, tearing into the ears of all those who heard it. Coco knew that wail, she had heard it in her dreams, far off. Rays of blue light shot out from the Horn, shooting up into the air and down into the waiting bodies. One by one, the empty eyes of the corpses lit up with the same violet hellfire she had seen in her vision, and spirals of dark magic spread across their bodies and limbs, animating them to unnatural life. He actually did it, Coco thought, too shocked to cry even as the terror coursed through her.
“Rise!” howled Timar, waving the Horn above him. “Rise! Rise now, obey your master!”
“Heaven and Earth,” swore Torner, “he's done it! He's really done it!”
“Don't stand there, go!” Caballeron waved. “We need to leave! Now! ”
“Oh, it is beautiful!” Timar yelled for all to hear, as the dead rats rose from the ground and turned towards him. His own soldiers backed away in revulsion. “Soldiers of the new era, turn to me!” The corpses looked to Timar and the Horn, waiting for his orders.
Barlent and Torner had rushed back to the trucks with their marines; the Black Army soldiers looked like they wanted to do the same. Grimsly, however, stayed with the ponies. “This is an abomination!” he said, war-hammer and shield in hand. “It cannot be!”
“But it is.” replied Timar, gesturing with the still-glowing Horn. “With this weapon, we can challenge the Sun-Tyrant herself! Nothing will stand before us!” The assembly of the dead stood at attention, their flickering eyes staring blankly ahead. “Ah, are our friends from the Navy leaving so soon?” Barlent and Torner had reached a truck, and were cranking the engine into life. “Shoot them.” Timar ordered to his soldiers with crossbows.
“But sir-” one protested.
“Do it. Or should I send someone who will follow my commands?”
The rats looked at each other; and the cannoneers up the ridge looked at them in confusion. Caballeron too glanced about, growing more and more agitated. “Very well,” Timar sighed, turning to his undead, “you lot, kill them.”
The corpses turned towards the convoy, and began to slowly and steadily advance. “Madness!” whispered Grimsly.
“The future.” corrected Timar, smiling smugly.Was this real? Was this a dream, like the ones she’d been having all these weeks? She couldn’t tell anymore, through the haze of fear and pain.
Coco felt it first, and then smelled it. A tiny wave of pressure washed against her, and a sharp metallic scent began to sting her nostrils. All the rats stopped what they were doing; even Timar was pulled out of his reverie. The dead stopped moving, frozen in place for a moment, before they turned again, staring at a space not twenty yards from where the ponies now stood.
Another wave of pressure, stronger now. The air began to shimmer and bend, and the chill seeped into Coco’s heart. A third wave came, and the air pulsed with it, tiny cracks of light forming. A fourth wave; rumbling through the ground, more cracks of light.
“What is this?” Timar asked, frowning.
Caballeron laughed. “I told you, Timar! I told you to learn Old Frithish!” A stronger wave hit them, the ground shook, the cold bit deeper, the wind began to howl, the air rippled like water and the cracks of light flared and spread, arcs of violet lightning shooting out from them, faster and faster. Caballeron had to yell over the clamor. “Perhaps then you could have learned for yourself why this thing was buried so deeply!”
“What?” Timar asked again.
The air bent and buckled as if something were punching it from the other side, the cracks split open and a burning light blazed out, wreathed in violet energy. Their breath turned to frost, the dry desert was coated in a sheen of ice.
“The Horn of the Damned has but one master,” Caballeron said, in reverent awe, “and he has arrived.”
With a blast that shook the entire world, a column of icy fire shot into the sky, and a gaping hole in the universe tore open. Out of the storm stepped a towering figure, draped in darkness itself, shadows flowing off his ghastly frame the same as frost.
The Winter King had come for what was his.
Author's Note
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Lord of Ashes, Lord of Dust
Caballeron
Exarath, the Thrice-born, the Immortal, Night-bringer, Demon-binder, Dream-walker, Lord of Ashes, Lord of Dust, the Winter King. Those were the names that the demons had hailed this entity by. And now, here he was; the clouds above became so thick that night truly had been brought.
Immediately, the booms of cannonfire sounded from the ridge, but their shells exploded as if they had hit an invisible wall just in front of the Horn's true master. Already, the artillery crews were fumbling with new shells and new charges, while ejecting the spent ones.
“Kill it!” yelled Timar, brandishing the Horn. “Bring it down!”
The icy chill in the air was so deep that Caballeron could hardly move; he and Coco both shook. The poor girl probably couldn’t have moved anyway, her leg was so badly wounded. Timar's dead did nothing to help him except stare at the new arrival. His soldiers tried to shoot their crossbows, but something strange happened: the bolts did not reflect off some unseen force like the shells, but slowed until they harmlessly bounced on the shadowy form of the Winter King.
“It's shielded, you idiots, get in there and destroy it!” Timar wrenched a partisan from one of his soldiers, and held waved it about
Then, the stormy portal cracked and flashed again, and the Demon-binder was joined by his demons. They filed out two by two, and surrounded their lord. Whatever timid advance the rattish soldiers had begun completely stopped as they beheld the terrible host:
The demons were just as the saga described, horrible mockeries of life, scrounged together parts of half a dozen creatures, fused and welded together by foul magic. Many wore the skulls of stags, antelope, rams, and other horned beasts; many wore the hands of griffons or dogs; they walked on feet and hooves and claws of birds. Their eyes burnt with the same fire as the dead, and a kindred light dwelt in their bodies, revealed by fissures and holes in their rotten and decaying shells. Some wore rust-corroded and ill-fitting armor, others filthy and ancient clothes of which the likes Caballeron had never seen. They weilded dark blades, and were raised in a silent challenge as they stalked towards the rats. Just like the saga...
“Madness!” Grimsly whispered again; Caballeron had nearly forgotten he was there.
“Sergeant, help me with Coco, we need to get to the trucks!” he shouted. Grimsly hauled Coco to her hooves, and started to help her to safety.
The Winter King's host had met with Timar's soldiers. Above on the ridge, the cannons fired as fast as they could. Those demons that were hit merely lost their wretched outer forms. Beneath the burnt-away decayed flesh and bone was something shadowy, twisting and shimmering, caging in a blazing light that threatened to break from its cage at any moment. They were not stopped; they rolled right over the rats, and the slaughter began.
“You!” Timar screamed, pointing at Caballeron. “This was your plan, was it? To summon these monsters and kill us all?”
“You should take a lesson from Daring Do, Timar: read the book yourself!” The chaos unfolding around them forgotten; it was him and the rat now. “If you had listened, none of this would be happening!”
“You've doomed my nation! Everything we've fought for, everything we've gone through, it's been for nothing now!” Timar held his partisan in one hand, Horn in the other, and walked forward.
“Hivald will fall!” Caballeron laughed. If he died here today, at least he would die doing what he did best: antagonizing his enemies. “And good riddance! Thus to all tyrants, you filthy vermin!”
The rat jumped at him, jabbing with the partisan. Caballeron flung himself away, and scrambled back onto his hooves. Over and over, Timar blindly stabbed at him, only to miss. Even the world was set against him now; every force of random chance acted in Caballeron's favor, each opportunity Timar had to kill him was missed. A loose rock, a slippery patch of spreading ice, a stray cannon shell; everything conspired in the stallion's favor. Caballeron couldn't help but grin as he realized the source of his fortune: the Horn wanted him alive. Just as it had brought him here, just as it had given them those dreams, it was working its will on the world now too.
“Die! Die!” raged the rat, nearly frothing at the mouth. “Why won't you die!” Timar swung his weapon and Caballeron stumbled back over a fallen body. One of the demons had been blown apart by the artillery; its blade lay on the frosty desert ground. The sign was clear.
Caballeron snatched up the dark blade in his mouth, and an electrifying shiver ran through him. He brandished it wildly at Timar, taking the rat by surprise. Partisan and unearthly sword clashed, just another fight in the battle between the host and the army. Every hit and parry jarred his whole body; no pony was meant to fight like this. But he was not a unicorn, he was not a pegasus, this was his only option. Finally, he could take no more, and Timar's partisan threw the blade from his grip.
“It's over!” breathed Timar, a frenzied look in his eyes. He did not see what approached.
“Yes, it is.” smiled Caballeron, looking over his shoulder. Timar whipped around, but it was too late. The Winter King loomed above him, and a long, taloned, and leathery hand clamped down on Timar's head. He lifted the rat high, and seized the Horn. And then, Timar burned. The dark fire consumed him in seconds, and the cold only grew deeper.
Now, the Winter King turned to Caballeron. There was no telling what lurked under the swirling shadows and icy vapors, but it was looking at him.
“Yes!” he said. “I took your Horn! Timar, the rat you killed, and I, we took it from where the griffons hid it!” Ever so slightly, the Winter King leaned down, as if listening more closely. “But when I learned what it was, I wanted no part with it! It was me who got him to use it, I knew you would sense it from wherever you came from, and I knew you would come for what is yours. Take it!”
I already have. The voice was not spoken aloud, but into his mind. It was slow, deep, ragged and raspy with age, but there was a power in it, whose depth was only hinted at. You brought me what was mine. She gave her blood. I will not take your lives. The Winter King raised a hand, and pointed at Coco, who Grimsly had taken halfway back to the trucks. A beam of golden light flashed from him to her. Go now, if you can. Tell your master what you have seen here.
With that, the figure turned away, and calmly moved back to the raging portal. That was the last Caballeron saw of the Horn of the Damned. He shakily stood, and galloped to Coco and Grimsly. “What happened?” Grimsly yelled.
“Get to the truck!” Caballeron ordered, looking back at the chaos, just in time to see the Winter King raise his hand again. This time, he shot arcs of violet lightning, leaping at every rat on the ridge and detonating the shells in the cannons. The rats the demons hadn't killed were fleeing, but they too were killed by the lightning.
Grimsly and Coco reached the truck, Caballeron right behind them. The marineshauled all three into the bed. A third torrent of energy was released by the Winter King, but this kind did not destroy. One by one, the trucks of the convoy were yanked from their positions, and rolled on their own to the portal, where they disappeared into the storm of light.
Every dead body, every weapon, every scrap of cloth and shard of metal, was pulled back through the portal; the bone-monsters that the Horn raised shambled in; followed by the demons, and their master last of all. The Winter King gave one last glance to the ponies, and then he too vanished.
Again, an icy column of fire shot up into the sky, shining stronger and stronger, before the entire portal collapsed in on itself into a single point. A great blast sounded once more, shaking the world. Thunder echoed for many moments after, as the day grew brighter and left whatever strange dark that had beset it.
Besides the lone truck, the rats from Sable, and two ponies, not a sign remained that anything had ever happened here. They made their way back down the desert road, to the port and civilization. What terrible and great powers that lurked in the far corners of the world weighed heavily on all their minds. Tell your master what you have seen here… the Winter King had said.
"Caballeron..." whispered Coco, voice trembling. "He healed my leg."
"What?" But true enough, the gash Timar had left was gone, like it had never been there. "How? Why?"
"I don't know." she said, leaning against him. "But he said something, before he went back to wherever he came from." Coco paused for a moment, looking with concern at her lack of wound. "Life for life, blood for blood... "
The truck drove on.
Author's Note
Not really, but only the epilogue left now. It'll be up next week, because I'll be gone all weekend. Yeah, I said it'd be done this week, but I forgot about the trip...
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Coco
“Alright, Doctor.” Captain Barlent said, tapping his fingers on his sword hilt. “Explain everything that happened.” The rats and their pony captives sat in the now-empty warehouse, having arrived back in town an hour after nightfall. Today's events almost seemed like a dream to Coco. Did it all really happen? Everyone else seemed to think so...
Caballeron sighed, and rubbed his head. “In the saga Coco recovered from you, we discovered the Horn was not alone.”
“I'll say...” huffed Grimsly.
“When the griffons sought it in their homeland, it was guarded by... what they called demons. I have dealt with the supernatural before, it is a part of the job, but...” he shook his head, exhaustion in his face. “Captain, I am almost at as much a loss as you are here.”
“Keep talking.” ordered Barlent.
“The griffons encountered these demons, and the corpses of their lost kin reanimated by some magic. They recovered the Horn, but not before the Horn's master had taken notice. He went by many different names, but the saga kept calling him the Winter King .” Caballeron shrugged. “I don't know what he was- or is, I should say. All I know is that the Horn belongs to him, and it was written that the moment the Horn is used, he will know exactly where it is. I kept that information to myself. That was the plan, you see. Timar would use the Horn, its master shows up and kills Timar for being a thief, and then lets us go.”
“You knew this would happen?” Torner asked. Coco had known more than any of them; she alone besides Caballeron knew about the so-called Winter King. He earned his title , she thought.
“I hoped it would happen.” corrected Caballeron. “For all I knew, he would kill every last one of us.”
“It was a calculated risk.” said Coco quietly. She'd nearly died out there, when Timar stabbed her. Blood was everywhere, and pain, and then came the golden light and even more pain. But she did not scream, and when it was over, there was not a hint of a wound left. Her leg had been healed. And then came his voice... Life for life, blood for blood. It had been an ancient voice, a cold voice. Shivers ran through her just recalling it.
“A hell of a risk, that's for sure.” Grimsly said.
“How did you know this thing was still out there?” Torner questioned again. “That saga is over a thousand years old, this winter fellow could have been dead just as long.”
“It was Timar who gave me the final realization, actually.” said Caballeron. “He remarked how convenient it was that we got the book from you, and then sailed right into his hands, more or less. It was almost like this was exactly what the Horn, and perhaps its master, wanted. On top of the strange dreams Coco and I had been getting in the weeks leading up to this... It had to have been planned!”
“By the Winter King?”
“Yes, none other. It has to have been him! He must have been the one guiding us here, to get him back his Horn. And we gave it back. We were the pawns the whole time. After he killed Timar, he told me that he would not harm us in return for what we had done.”
“What I want to know,” Grimsly began, “is what exactly those things were! The demons, you called them. They wore animal parts, but underneath...”
“Like light caged by shadow.” Coco remarked.
“Exactly.” nodded Caballeron. “I have never seen anything like them before.” But I have, thought Coco. She saw them in that vision; blurry and vague images compared to what she had seen today.
“I'd be happy if I never saw them again.” said she. “Those things were pure evil.”
“They took the bodies, and the trucks.” Torner said. “Why?”
“The bodies... Perhaps for re-animation.” Caballeron said. “But the trucks? I cannot fathom why.”
“They took the guns too.” Grimsly added. “Sucked them right into that gateway of theirs.”
“Not only can they raise the dead to their service, they have cannons and trucks now.” Barlent muttered. “But who is they ? Where is they ? What does they want?”
“I don't know who they are or what they want,” Coco said, “but I know where they are. Kind of.” She paused, recalling everything she'd seen as she slept. “In my dreams, I was in a cold, dark place. Nothing grew, the sky was brown with dust and clouds. There were... stone forests, I guess.” She shivered. “I don't know where on Earth it is, but it exists, and that's where this Winter King and his demons are. I just know it.”
Barlent spoke on, looking grim. “So they're out there, somewhere in the world. With that Horn, and what they've taken today. Their master can get them anywhere at a moment's notice, according to the Doctor here. What are they doing?”
Now, Caballeron had something to add. “The Winter King told me another thing, before he left. He said that we should tell our master, if I could.”
“That would be the Princes. What does Princess Celestia have to do with this, though? Why does he want her to know he's out there?” Coco asked.
“That Princess of yours has been around a very long time, Miss Pommel.” Torner said. “I wouldn't be surprised if she knows something about this. Alas, there's no way for us to contact her.”
“She certainly wouldn't want to have anything to do with me.” snorted Caballeron. “I'm bad news for any public official, thanks to those Daring Do books!”
Well, Rarity's met the Princess, and that librarian friend of hers was actually a student of Celestia's... Coco pondered a course of action. Maybe she could call in a favor?
“Well, what's done is done.” Barlent stated. “The shadow-creature has his horn. Timar is dead. One less party official in the world, there's that, at least. Now nothing stands between the Republic and defeat. Once we are defeated...”
“Celestia will convince the others to show mercy.” Caballeron told him. “Our Princess is kind at heart, she won't allow revenge. Not that you wouldn't deserve it, by some accounts.”
Days more passed in the quiet rattish town. The coal from Nutmeg had been shipped off already, and wind alone would not get them far, so their way home was dead in the water, literally. Barlent had his officers and marines swear an oath of silence regarding what they had seen in the desert; Coco and Caballeron agreed to keep quiet too. Their own Captain, Barnacle Billet, had wondered where they'd gotten off to. Coming up with an explanation wasn't easy, they'd just settled on Timar dragging them out into the desert to bid him a farewell as he returned with his prize to the capital. Even though Hivald's capital was north, not west. But the rest of the ponies from Nutmeg didn't know that.
The event weighed heavily on all their minds. Sable 's marines were quiet, even around their comrades. Grimsly was less talkative. Torner and Barlent seemed to be keeping up the usual appearance, but they often fell silent and stared into the distance. Coco was much the same. She tried to keep a normal face around the other ponies, but she caught herself thinking back to the day in the desert. Caballeron had seen most of all; she remembered him facing Timar himself, and then meeting the Horn's master face to face. But he, out of all of them, designer, officer, or marine, was the least phased by it all.
“How do you do it?” Coco asked, back aboard Nutmeg in her much roomier cabin. It was good to be back there.
“Do what?” Caballeron replied.
“You don't even seem bothered that fifty soldiers were just- just annihilated by a band of monsters, and their monster leader! Who can summon the dead back to life!” she said, waving a hoof around. “These things are out there! They know who we are, we helped them!”
“They certainly are.” agreed he. “I've had my fair share of strange encounters, Coco. This was the strangest by far, yes. But there's been time to think on it.” Caballeron looked out the porthole, looking at something she couldn't see.
“...And?” Coco prompted, laying her ears flat in impatience.
“There's not much we can do about it, and besides, it's not our problem anymore.”
“What?” That was it? She couldn't believe what she was hearing! “You're one of the smartest ponies I've met, Caballeron. I don't think that cuts it!”
“Think about it the way I have.” he continued. “We were pawns the entire time, the only reason I survived Timar the first time around is because I was meant to. You were meant to survive too, he healed you, even! Though only Celestia knows how... I have to wonder if we were ever in any danger at all.”
“Maybe we weren't, but what about everyone else who died out there?”
Caballeron tilted his head. “Those were soldiers, in the service of the Black Army of the Revolution. At best, they were enforcers for the Republic. At worst, they took part in what happened in the occupied lands these past few years. Criminals either way, Coco. Notice that none of the rats who were with us died. Only Timar and his thugs. We are better off without them. Whatever his true intentions, the Winter King inadvertently helped make the world a better place.”
That made her stop and think for a moment. It was a very hard notion for an Equestrian to accept. There were good and bad ponies, yes, but never was killing the bad ones an acceptable solution at home. Could the world be made a better place with the death of such individuals? Now that's a question for the Princess , Coco thought. “So you're saying... You're not bothered because the 'good guys' won?”
“Precisely.” nodded the stallion, grinning. “An evil rat and his minions got themselves killed, and an international pariah has brought about its own downfall... I've never been on the winning side, before, let alone the good one. It's certainly a new experience!”
Coco couldn't help but smile herself. “When you put it that way, I guess there really isn't much to worry about.” This incident wasn’t one easily to be brushed aside, but if he was right, then she had merely been an unwitting actress on something else’s stage. It was still chilling, but not as terrifying to think about. Then something else came to mind, something she'd heard her friend reference quite a few times during this misadventure. “Wait a moment, Caballeron. Why do always speak like you're in some kind of story? Good sides, bad sides, winning and losing? I mean, you've even spoken like Daring Do is a real pony and not just a character!”
“Daring Do is just a self-insert for A.K. Yearling, like I said. You might even say they're the same pony.” There was a sly look about him, before it quickly changed to a more indignant expression. “And why do you have a problem with the way I speak?”
“No, I- Ugh!” Coco put a hoof over her face. “It's just a bit strange, that's all! It's like you almost believe you are the Caballeron from those books, and not just somepony who got defamed, on a very grand scale...”
“I have a very clear grasp on reality, Coco.” he assured her. She'd have to take his word on that.
The next day, the ponies of Nutmeg were greeted by a sight that actually brought tears to Coco’s eyes. Out in the harbor sat a great white battleship, trimmed in gold and royal purple. The sun banner flew proudly from its tall masts, the long cannons gleamed in their round turrets. On the prow, behind the decorative gilt, read VIRIBUS UNITIS ; the very same ship she'd seen so often sailing into Manehatten. At last, the Equestrian navy had arrived to rescue them! We're going home! rejoiced Coco, feeling her spirits rise like sails catching the wind. That wasn't an entirely inaccurate synonym either, she noted.
Viribus Unitis wasn't alone, either. Out beyond sat an array of cruisers and frigates, and further behind them were transports. The ships flew the flags of Equestria, Cania, several Zebra princedoms- including Adin, Coco noted- and a few even hosted the banner of Northbrim! Captain Barlent quickly ordered his marines to raise a white flag over the town, and aboard his own Sable .
“Is this all for us?” Coco asked, as they watched the mighty fleet from Nutmeg 'sbridge wing.
“I'm certainly flattered!” Billet remarked.
The commanding officer of Viribus Unitis , a certain notable admiral, accepted Barlent's surrender out on the docks. Their own Captain Billet was there too, representing the ponies whom this mess had started over. He learned the truth of the operation.
“Sorry folks, we're just a sideshow.” he informed them all, in the galley of Nutmeg that night.
“So what's the main event, in that case?” asked Spar.
“Apparently, they're going to round the Cape of Storms, on the southern end of the continent...”
Coco didn't hear the rest of the answer, because at that moment she received the newspaper from home that had been going around. It was long, published several weeks ago on March 9th, and read:
INTERVENTION! In light of the recent and unprovoked attacks by warships flying the flag of Hivald, Princess Celestia has authorized a total blockade of the southerly Republic, and a loan of 500 million bits to the Kingdom of Cania. The Princess stated that “Princess Luna and I agree that Equestria cannot be the target of blatant aggression without consequences. We will take the necessary steps to defend our ponies against all who would harm them. The Tetrarchs of Hivald may consider this a proportionate response to their acts of war.” The Griffon Kingdom of Northbrim, also victim of several attacks in neutral waters, announced their support of whatever actions the Princesses would take.
The Republic of Hivald, an impoverished land of 12 million rats which follows the aggressive, expansionist, and supremacist ideology of National-Collectivism, has been at war with Cania and nearly the whole of Zebradom, among other smaller states, for six years now. The Equestrian embargo, put into the effect after the discovery of the Rattish government's involvement in smuggling illegal substances within our borders, has done much to turn the war's tide against them. The strain on Hivald will only be increased as the blockade cuts off grain shipments from elsewhere in the country and the import of raw materials from deep in the southern hemisphere. Our leading analyst has this to say: “The Republic has been stretched to the breaking point already by our embargo. With our blockade in place, Hivald will not be able to sustain any war effort beyond what few reserves it has left. I feel confident in saying that the Rattish State will undergo complete collapse by late spring.”
This may seem harsh to our readers, as we ponies are a naturally compassionate folk, but it must be remembered that we are dealing with a nation that embraces the scourge of republicanism and has stooped low enough to use slave labor and mass deportations to enforce its will. It is imperative we make the world safe for the righteous monarchies that protect their subjects instead of exploit them. Fate willing, we may yet liberate the rats from the tyranny of mob rule.
It was definitely a more clear and accurate report than the clip she'd read from the state-owned media here in Hivald. “I guess it's over for the Republic.” she whispered to Caballeron.
“I heard that descendents of their king are still out there.” he whispered back. “Perhaps they will restore one to the throne?”
Whatever the plans for Hivald were, the ponies didn't find out. The next day, Nutmeg 's crew transferred coal from one of the fleet tenders to get underway again. With the auxiliary sails deployed, they would make decent time on the journey home. Before they left, Barlent and Torner approached them one last time.
“About what we saw... Do you plan on actually telling your Princess?” asked the rat captain.
“I know somepony who knows somepony, I can try.” Coco said.
“I suppose we ought to remain silent here, then. If Celestia wants to hear what we have to say, she can come and find us.” stated Torner.
“Luna is a Princess too, you know.” she reminded him.
“Yes, we heard. But the world is slow to change its ways. For our generation, Celestia is the Princess...” Torner said. “I doubt it’ll change. But send her word, and ask her to have mercy on this wretched nation.”
“Of course I will.” said Coco.
“Well, this is it, then.” Caballeron spoke up. “I am grateful that we were captured by you, instead of a more unsavory band of characters. You made this experience a little less distasteful for us.”
“Someone in this world needs to keep it civilized, even in war.” Barlent nodded. “No reason for everyone to be barbarians, is there? Good luck, ponies. If we meet again, I hope it's not under such grim circumstances!”
That was the last they saw of any living rats. Nutmeg sailed north, with a fully steam-powered corvette from Adin escorting them. No longer limited by sails alone, they were there in less than a week. It was outside the city they saw the last signs of rats at all, living or otherwise: a beached submarine, like two bulging daggers welded back to back with a brass propeller on one end, and painted grey, with the flag of the Republic still flying from its periscope tower. The shore around it was barricaded by the city guards, and a few Aravian citizens had come to see the strange machine.
“I hope that's the as much war as I ever see.” Coco said. “I guess this disaster wasn't without its benefits, though. I've definitely got more appreciation for Equestria than ever before. No propaganda, no hunger, no political officers...” She briefly wondered what had happened to Greywacke, but she didn't dwell on it long. “And of course, we have the Princess to stop any of that Horn nonsense from happening here.”
“It's boring, isn't it?” Caballeron asked.
“What? No! I'd rather have this kind of 'boring' than being scared for my life as literal demons storm out of a portal!”
“I've been away from home too long, then.” the stallion conceded. “Never had a reason to come back for long.”
“Well, I think you might now.” said Coco, with a little smile. “You're too interesting to walk out of my life. And far more honest than most of my co-workers in the design industry...” It was indeed true. He came from a completely different part of life, and the world, really. She found that refreshing, even after spending so much time with him so far. They actually had more to talk about than just this sponsorship or that magazine feature. Coco loved what she did, but sometimes the ponies she worked with were aggravating , to say the least. Doctor Caballeron was a healthy change in pace, and as long as there were no more monsters... She wouldn't mind having him around in the future, that was for sure.
“To your credit, you've proven quite reliable yourself. I didn't have to worry about you stabbing me in the back over a few bits. That's more than I can say for many other 'friends' of mine...”
“Yes, I don’t like the idea of stealing, not after with what I’ve had to put up with... You aren't actually interested in stealing any of my unpublished designs, are you?” she asked.
“Not unless the profit will let me retire!” laughed he. “I can't be doing what we just went through forever, these old bones will wear out eventually.”
“What is it you do, really?” Coco wondered. Even on the first day they had met, he'd hinted that what he did was definitely not something the average pony would put themselves through. “I mean, you said you were an archaeologist, all those weeks ago in February. But... That's not all that you are, is it?”
“No, not at all.” said Caballeron. “In addition to my studies in the field of archeology, I would consider myself a purveyor of items of beauty and interest. Who do you think supplies all those wonderful artifacts that no doubt dot the halls of your clients' penthouses and manors?”
“Hah!” she laughed. “No wonder A.K. Yearling made you a villain, even I know that Daring Do has that tag-line... what was it? It belongs in a museum? ”
The stallion grimaced in disgust, before launching into an exasperated rant. “That's no way to make ends meet! I don't do what I do because I'm evil or greedy- well, maybe a little, but I have debts to pay! Parents to look after! Food to eat! How is a pony supposed to live when everything he finds worth anything he has to give up for free? I'd rather sell it to some Canterlot elite or one of the pegasi aristocrats up north. Or griffons, or zebras, or dogs! Rats, minotaurs, dragons! I have tried to sell a ring to a spirit with five hands, you know!”
“You should have become a designer.” Coco smirked. “I don't have to deal with any of that.”
“Well, it's a little late to change gears.” Then, Caballeron too smiled, looking out the porthole again. “Besides, like I said before... I've seen things you ponies wouldn't believe, out beyond our borders. I've been beyond the horizon and off the edge of the map, into the unknown world. How many of our race could say that, Coco? I'm not particularly good at being a good pony, but I wouldn't have traded this life for anything.”
“Wouldn't have?”
“Meeting you was a bit of a perspective change. I've never really had a real friend among ponies, not one I cared for, at least. Perhaps there are things I've missed out on in my years abroad... And to think, it all started over a silly coat!”
Hearing that gave her a warm, almost giddy feeling. Who would have thought that Coco Pommel, who six months ago had just been that timid little no-name assistant who fetched Suri's coffee, could have ever effected somepony so much? For the rest of the voyage home, Coco's spirits were higher than they had been since before this whole ordeal began. She was almost starting to wish their journey wouldn't end so soon, because when it did, she and Caballeron would go their separate ways. But, a week later, they sailed into Manehattan, at long last. In the seven days it took to get from Adin to here, the weather had grown cooler, and Coco's winter coat was put to use in the first time in well over a month and a half. She believed it was now sometime in April... She was definitely late for that meeting. The client would understand given the circumstances, right?
“There were times when I thought I'd never see those towers again.” Coco said, while they stood at the bow of Nutmeg .
“Never really liked them, myself.” Caballeron remarked. “Earth ponies and heights... they don't really go together. You're one too, you should know that!”
“Home is home, Doctor.”
“Fair enough. I might have to get used to this place, if I ever visit.” he sighed.
“And you are going to visit, right?” Coco poked him lightly, to drive home that it wasn’t actually a question.
“Yes, yes,” Caballeron tried to wave off her hoof, “of course I am. You're the only other pony who knows what happened here, and you actually like me for some reason other than my ability to get you trinkets from across the world... Refreshing, to say the least.”
“Well, those were my thoughts exactly.”
Nutmeg slowly bumped up against the docks, and was lashed firmly in. No pony had expected them to turn up, and neither did many know they had been missing for over a month and a half; there weren’t even any reporters about. Coco was fine with that, she just wanted to go home.
“We made it!” Exclaimed Captain Billet to his crew. “Our cargo’s been stolen and we’re broke, but we made it!”
“Don’t tell them I have a few bits left.” Caballeron whispered.
“Where will you two be off to now?” Billet asked them. “I recall you wanting to get here a lot sooner than we did, Miss Pommel, but…”
“I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do with my co-workers and clients, but tonight I just want to sleep in my own bed.” she said.
“And you?” Billet turned to Caballeron, who only shrugged.
“To be honest, my plan involved getting to Equestria with the Horn, and nothing beyond that. I will find my way, though.” said he.
“Well, best of luck to you then. Miss Pommel, you wouldn’t know this, but our voyages are generally much more uneventful.”
“I’m sure.” Coco laughed. She and Caballeron were the first off the ship, finally and officially arriving back in Equestria. With her she had all her luggage, including the roll of red silk she’d gotten before all this began. At least the rats hadn’t taken that from Nutmeg ’s materials. Somewhere in Hivald, all that coffee was being put to good use. Or at least she hoped it was. If no one ends up using that coffee, this whole trip would have truly been for nothing!
The differences from the last two cities she’d been in were immense. Here in Manehatten, ponies milled about hurriedly, going about all kinds of business. There relaxing serenity of St. Garnet isle was gone, the oppressive dreariness of that rat town was gone too. This was a lively place, full of energy, if not always positive. It was good to be back.
“Here we are.” she said.
“Here we are.” Caballeron repeated, looking about. “I really thought there’d be a crowd to welcome us home.”
“There’s a reason the international section is at the very back of the paper. I don’t think anypony here pays attention to what’s out there. I know I didn’t, before all this.” How small her world seemed, now. She’d never been more than forty miles from where she was born, her time in Manehatten included, before all this. And now she’d been further south than almost any other pony in Equestria. Those sailors on the ships that freed them would go further, but beyond the southern end of Hivald, there was only blank map. I was within a few hundred miles of the edge of the known world , Coco thought. It was frightening and exciting at the same time. Maybe I’ll go further, one day? Caballeron had said he’d been into those blank places… “You know,” she said, “if you ever do go to somewhere that doesn’t have monsters and republicans at the end of the journey, be sure to tell me.”
“Are you an adventurer now?” he asked wryly. “Has the thirst for new lands and new civilizations been awakened in you?”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but… You said it yourself. There’s a lot to see out there. I can’t help but wonder if it’s worth seeing for myself… In the right company.” Coco explained, smiling up at him.
“Then you haven’t seen the last of me. I-” Suddenly, Caballeron froze, before pulling her behind a stack of shipping crates. “Oh, look who’s shown up to ruin the moment!” he growled.
“I can’t see anypony-” Coco tried to peek out, but he pulled her back.
“Take one guess, just one guess!”
“A.K. Yearling?” she guessed.
“Who else? I believe it’s time for me to depart.” Caballeron said.
“Where are you going?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea. But don’t you worry, I’ll be in town again in a few months.” He looked up and down the docks, no doubt figuring out the quickest way to disappear.
“I’ll hold you to that.” Coco said. “Thanks for everything, Caballeron. I’m glad I got to know you, even if we had to go through everything that we did. Good luck out there, and come back soon!” For a moment, Coco paused, wondering if she was going to be too forward, but gave him a quick kiss on the cheek anyway. That got a look of pleasant surprise from the stallion. “Now, you better get moving, Doctor, otherwise you’re going to have to deal with Daring Do and the Horn of the Damned in a year!”
“I’d like to see her put that thing in a museum…” He did try to do his usual discontent mutter, but Caballeron seemed too pleased with himself to muster up the distaste. All he could do was smile on. “Until next time, Coco. Take care.” With that, he ducked away, and slipped off into the city. She waited a minute before leaving the docks herself, and noticed a bespectacled mare looking around wildly. That must be Yearling … Coco stayed out of her way.
Getting back to her apartment was easy compared to what she’d been through; the doorpony wondered where she’d been all this time. Apparently, rumor had it that she’d been kidnapped by pirates, which wasn’t all that far from the truth. “It was rats,” she said, “commerce raiders from Hivald. There’s a war out there, you know.”
They didn’t know. Most of them didn’t, at least. The big news in Manehatten lately was a lawsuit being filed against her former boss for intellectual property theft. No pony even knew Viribus Unitis and half the eastern fleet had steamed out of port weeks ago and gone south. It really is a different world here, isn’t it? Coco thought, as the elevator took her to her floor. Ponies who opened doors for you, towers twenty stories high, paved streets, court cases over fashion… It was all familiar to her, but now it seemed smaller. She remembered the excotic sights and smells of Adin, the hungry and exhausted people of the Rattish State, the strange eeriness of what they had seen weeks ago.
That night she wrote a letter to Rarity, asking for her help in contacting the Princess. Celestia supposedly was open to mail from her subjects, but Coco had no idea how many other ponies were sending letters too, and this was a matter of importance. She went all the way back to the lobby to put her letter in the mailbox before getting the best sleep she’d had in a long time.
It was only two days later, after much catching-up, that Coco got a reply, and a special address to mail to. She sat down at her desk, and began to write.
Dear Princess Celestia,
My name is Coco Pommel, I'm a friend of Rarity's, who is a friend of your student, Twilight Sparkle. It isn't my habit to use my connections like this, but during my time in Hivald, something happened that you my friend and I were commanded to tell you about. I'll start from the beginning…
Hours seemed to pass as she recalled the entire journey, from start to finish. She included every detail, from the dreams, to Caballeron’s theories about the Horn, to the happenings in Hivald, to all the material the demons and the Winter King had taken. Her story ended with a quick summary of the journey home, but Coco kept writing. She’d made a promise, after all, and she intended to keep it.
Anyways, I'm not sure how what else to say, Princess... it was all so strange. But, you ought to know about this, and this Winter King fellow thought so too, whatever his intentions really were. So here it is, the straight truth. I intend never to speak of it to anypony again, if you so wish it.
As an addendum, I’d like to say something I wasn’t told to report to you. I learned a lot about outsiders, pony and rat alike. Hivald’s history is far more gruesome and grim than any episode of ours, Princess. I’m sure you know that, but hearing about something and seeing it for yourself are very different things. Their government has done terrible, terrible things, but the commoners of Hivald are as much victims as anyone else by what I saw. These are a people who have never been shown mercy or kindness by the rest of the world, Princess. I’m not excusing the crimes I heard about, but I told the rats that helped us that you wouldn’t let this cycle go on. We can stop it, here and now, and maybe even extend some of the goodness we enjoy here to a land that could use some help. I don't want to overstep my boundaries, Princess, but I know you listen to your ponies, and this is what I have to say.
Signed, your loyal subject, Coco Pommel
Author's Note
And there you have it, the first actually finished story from me. I lied, it wasn't a romance, it was a romance tease. Because I'm squeamish when it comes to writing actual romance. Many thanks to Pigeonsmall who came up with this insane prompt in the first place, and who helped greatly along the way when it came to figuring out what characters were going to do. A few questions that were deliberately not resolved in the text:
Who was the "Winter King" and those lads of his?
The Doctor, the Designer, and the Horn of the Damned
Coco
At least the rats were nice, for raiders. They had given her her own cabin; while Caballeron and all the other stallions had been crammed three apiece into two other cabins. True, it was a small space compared to what she had on Nutmeg, and it was smaller still to the luxury cruiser she had began this debacle of a vacation on, but it was at least private. Coco currently sat on her luggage; there was nowhere to put it but the only empty part of the floor. She eyed the hammock with suspicion; she had never slept in one before, nor even seen one in person. There was a reason ponies used beds, after all.
Alas, all she wanted to do was to go to sleep, now. It's just one mess-up after another , Coco sighed to herself. Did she do something wrong? Was this divine retribution for taking a year and a half to stand up to Suri? Had she angered some spirit or demon? Maybe it's the spider silk, she thought, maybe it belonged to a spider goddess, and this is what I get for buying stolen goods?
That was a chilling thought...
Dinner was brought to her, just a poor soup. Coco couldn't help but envy even the rustics back home. At least they ate well, if simply. This was simple and un well! Night fell, by the darkening of the light in the porthole, and Coco had no choice but to figure out how the hammock worked. It wasn't easy. In the morning, she found that she had slipped out of the hammock; her hind legs were tangled in the cloth, and her face was planted firmly in her suitcase. “Wonderful...” sighed Coco.
There was a knock at the door, and then a sharp voice. “Miss Pommel, your presence is requested.”
“It is?” she asked, jolting at the unexpected noise.
“Yes, Miss Pommel. The Captain wishes to meet with you, in his stateroom.”
“Very well...” Coco swallowed nervously. What did the rat captain want with her? She took a few moments to make herself look as presentable as a lady of her class ought to be, before coming out of her room.
“Follow me.” ordered the tawny-furred rat before her. He was one of their marines, clad in a dark grey tunic and polished steel cuirass and helmet. Coco noted that he stood eye to eye with her. She had also noted that the rats didn't have one uniform height. There were squat ones like this marine, there were taller ones like Lieutenant Torner or that shady grey one she'd seen the other day, and then there was Captain Barlent, tallest of all the rats on the ship, who towered over the ponies.
The Captain's quarters were not far from her cabin, it seemed; it took less than half a minute to get there.
“Ah, Grimsly, you've brought the lady. Good, good. Please wait outside.” Captain Barlent ordered. The rat, named Grimsly apparently, saluted and did as told. Coco took note of the so-called stateroom; it was smaller than her bedroom in Manehatten, but richly decorated. The room was paneled in chestnut, the floor covered in a rich carpet from a distant land, the chairs were padded, and the table even had a tablecloth.
There were many maps hanging on the walls too; one of the entire known world and unexplored regions surrounding it, many more focused more on familiar areas only. One chart, detailing everything from the southern border of Hivald to the north of Equestria, and from the shores of Zebradrom to the island kingdoms of the griffons, had a great multitude of pins in them, labeled with dates and names. No doubt a record of this raider's victims, Coco thought. There were six in the vicinity of Saint Garnet, all very recently dated... She turned to the table itself, and found the Captain, the grey rat present whent they first boarded, and-
“Doctor Caballeron!” greeted Coco. “I didn't expect to find you here as well. Good morning!”
“Good morning.” he replied, with an obviously forced pleasantness. His morning must have not been going well.
“I am pleased you could join us.” said the rat captain, gesturing her to sit. She did so. “You know us two, but this is our political officer, Greywacke.” Barlent gestured to the grey rat, who was also in uniform. What a fitting name, thought Coco. Greywacke made not acknowledgment that he had been introduced; instead, he just wrote something in an open notebook he was holding.
“My choices were... limited.” she said, trying to remain polite. “I thought it best not to offend my captors.”
“Oh, come now; we are quite civil here, as you will see.” Barlent assured her. “My crew is well-disciplined and accustomed to fighting a clean war, and I consider my honor unimpeachable. You are in safe hands here, Miss Pommel, and that goes for all you Equestrians.”
“I hope so.” she muttered. “If I may ask, Captain, why am I here?”
“We've been interviewing your fellow-traveler all morning,” Barlent said, gesturing to the tired Caballeron, “and something just doesn't add up. I was given orders, direct from the Tetrarchy,” he pointed to four portraits on the wall, “to capture this stallion and bring him back to Hivald. But why? He insists there's nothing he has that could possibly be of interest to us.” Caballeron nodded.
“I'm an archaeologist; I don't have any weapons or designs or inventions that could assist in your war.” he stated. “If I was, I'd be more than willing to enter the Republic's employ, but I am not.”
“However...” the rat captain folded his hands on the table. The way his long, clawed fingers interleaved made Coco uncomfortable; it just wasn't something ponies saw often. “I don't entirely believe him. Miss Pommel, you are a lady of some rank in your homeland, I am to understand. And I am from a higher bloodline myself, despite its dispossession by the Republic.” Barlent glanced at Greywacke, who only gave him a cool look. “I'm sure the mutual respectability of our stations would...”
“Compel me to answer you truthfully?” guessed Coco.
“Yes, that would be one way to put it.” Barlent agreed.
“But I'm only the daughter and heiress of an hereditary knight, just a single step up from the commoners...” she objected. Caballeron gave her a look that said why are you telling him that?
“No matter. Please continue.” ordered Barlent.
“Well, he is right. Doctor Caballeron has only struck me as an archaeologist with a streak of strange luck, in the time I've known him.” Coco said firmly. For a moment, she thought about mentioning the Horn... No, he's my friend, I'm not going to betray that for some raider, she decided. If she was to be the lady of her household one day, she needed to establish a reputation for honor of her own. Friends did not turn on friends!
“Strange luck?” Barlent raised an eyebrow. Greywacke's ears pricked up, but he still remained silent.
“Yes, all my ships scheduled to sail for the griffon realms had some kind of accident before they could leave. I was forced to board Nutmeg and go straight home to Equestria. Who would have thought this would be the result?” Caballeron explained, before frowning. “Well, with my luck, I saw it coming from a mile away.”
“I see...” The rat captain tapped a foot on the floor for a moment, looking off into space, before returning to them. “And that box of yours..?”
“Personal items.” said Caballeron, narrowing his eyes. “Money and luggage, if you must know.”
“You say you are an archaeologist, Doctor. One must wonder if your luggage contains anything related to your field of study.” Barlent put a hand on his chin. “Regardless, something will be decided. Thank you for your time, Miss Pommel, you are dismissed.” He waved to Grimsly to take her away, and away they went. Coco had to wonder what would happen when the rats found the Horn.
“You're from the Equestrian nobility, are you?” asked Grimsly the marine.
“Yes, I am...” Coco said, guardedly. “What's it to you?”
“We overthrew our monarch and lords many years ago. I have never met a real aristocrat.” Grimsly said, wringing his hands. “You do not seem so different from the rest of us.”
“I'm not an alicorn, if that's what you are saying.” Coco told him, in a cool tone. The word overthrew deeply unsettled her, truth be told. “I suppose you could say I'm among the landed elite.”
“Landed elite, huh? Well, we still have that ,even after the revolution.” Grimsly snorted. “The more things change, the more they stay the same...” He glanced around cautiously. “Don't tell the political officer I said that, though. Seditious words are not looked upon kindly, especially in a time of war.”
“Of course, you have my word.” Coco declared.
“Sergeant!” one of the rat marines ran up, saluting. “We took the Equestrians out for air, one of them is being belligerent about coming down again.”
Grimsly snorted again. “Miss Pommel, see yourself to your cabin, I trust you can do that?” She nodded, and off the rats went. The hall was now deserted. Coco was about to enter her cabin as told, when an idea came to her... A clever, cunning idea.
She passed her door, and instead looked into the stallion's cabins, searching for Caballeron's metal box. Without taking the time for a good look, she opened it, and picked up the Horn in her mouth, running as quietly as she could into her own cabin. Coco tossed it into her hammock, and turned on her own suitcase. Removing the least feminine clothes she had, and ran back to put them in Caballeron's box. The sneaky scheme completed, Coco returned to her cabin for real, and closed the door.
Oh, I've done it now! she thought, now suddenly nervous. All she could do was hope that Caballeron had not cracked under pressure and mentioned the Horn. They'd be most surprised then, if they searched his box and found nothing but clothes and money instead of something valuable. Speaking of which... Coco peeked over the edge of her hammock, staring at the Horn.
It was as a lengthy instrument, as long as a pony and formed from a smooth dark material, like some kind of blackened ivory. Rings of iron clawed into it, bearing the same strange inscriptions of flowing runes. Faint channels spiraled around the Horn, evenly spaced and only lightly inscribed. Coco looked inside; she couldn't see around the curve to the mouthpiece. If there was something blocking it from making a sound, she couldn't know without cutting it open.
Coco hid the Horn under her hammock and behind her suitcase, hoping that no rat would bother looking there if they had to search her cabin. If they found it, she'd be in very big trouble, to say the least. It was worth it, though. These rats had cost her a lot as it was, inconveniencing them made her feel better. Coco might have been a nice mare, but her time with Suri left her with a finer appreciation for the old saying what goes around, comes around.
For the rest of the day, she distracted herself with figuring out how a pony was supposed to lay in a hammock; no easy task. Dinner came and went, and soon she again laying down and looking at the ceiling. Her mind drifted, and she strayed out of thought and into sleep.
Coco found herself shivering under a sickened and dying sky; surrounded by a bleak waste of ash, dust, ice, and rock. Only a hint of light came through the brown haze above, a sharp wind sliced through even her winter coat. She stepped forward, the sound of crunching and snapping under her hooves with her every move. Something approached her, always on the edge of her eyes. Coco's heart beat faster, her shivering wasn't just due to chill now. A low keening rose from the blasted landscape, growing and growing until the harsh wail made her clamp her hooves over her ears. When she opened her eyes-
Coco blinked again, glancing around her cabin. She rolled over, nervously looking at the Horn below the hammock. It sat silently, staring back at her.
Author's Note
