Prologue: Aboard the Carnivaal/Episode 1: Pilot
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Prologue: Aboard the Carnivaal/Episode 1: Pilot
Prologue, Aboard The Carnivaal
The mare was thrown backwards against the force of Blue's frame, landing on her back and cackling with delight. She slowly rolled over and got to her hooves, the one eye showing through her mask appraising him gleefully. Her horn lit for a brief second before a gunshot rang out from behind Obie and Freakshow's horn shattered. She collapsed, her knees weak as she howled in agony. Swordplay stomped toward her, anger pouring from her bloody gaze, and she deftly swiped her longsword at Freakshow's head.
The mask slipped and fell away, the straps securing it to her face severed. A beautiful mare lay beneath, her face contorted into a horridly pained expression and soaked with tears. Her long, oily black mane plastered to her face with sweat, two gorgeous bright blue eyes now trained on Swordplay, she manages a small smile.
"Thank you, miss."
The captain huffs angrily, drawing the blade of her weapon closer to her victim's throat. Yet Freakshow continued, "I'm terrified of you... Captain Swordplay..." A new wave of tears rolled over her cheeks, her smile widening.
"I haven't felt fear in a long time."
~THE
LUMBER
JACK'S
LACE~
I, Pilot
Jasmine grunted through her teeth as she dragged the chest onto her wagon. At least in comparison to most wagons, it was a sleek, sturdy little thing. The wheels were worn and dirty, but it was reliable.
She tucked the chest in among the other four, and hopped back off of the wagon to grasp one of the final two containers by a handle, and move it between the one she just loaded and the wall of her cart. The last chest, filled with the frame pieces of a compact merchant's tent, sat in the front of the wagon longways.
"That should be it," Jasmine said to herself, closing the wagon's tailgate. She took a charcoal gray bandana from her saddlebags and tied it around her left bicep to catch her sweat. Then she turned around and surveyed her home, an almost suburban two-story house with white clay walls, a dark shingled roof and a carriage shelter built into the side.
A sudden breeze blew, forcing her braided mane over her shoulder and carrying the scent of the forest. The trees sheltered everything around her, only thin rays of sunlight piercing the treetops. Birds flitted throughout the leaves and branches, a few hopping through the underbrush for their meals and others just watching from among the limbs.
It wasn't humid at all, the breeze crisp and cool against her pale khaki coat. She took her key in her teeth and locked the door to her home, slipping the key in a side pocket of her saddlebags and beginning to hitch herself to the wagon. The well-maintained ring, devoid of edges, fit her barrel perfectly. Leather Beat said the cart was a ridiculous investment when she bought it to replace her old one, but she didn't regret the decision at all. That's not to say the wagon wasn't expensive; she had to borrow from her brother to pay it all off. But she hadn't had to replace it in a year and a half, and it didn't show any signs of needing such a thing to be done anytime soon.
With the ring clamped together and the belt along the outside also fastened, she took a final look at her two-story home and smiled.
It's gonna be a while before I find myself back here.
Another breeze blew as she turned and started down the dirt path from her home, promptly connected her hoof with a root-- "WAUGH!" ...and faceplanted onto the path. "Lovely start you made there, Jaz," she said sarcastically to herself. She spat dirt out of her mouth and sprayed the ground with blood. She picked herself up and wiped off her snout, her hoof coming back with red streaks down it. "Oh. Wonderful."
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The wind shoved her bangs into her eyes, and she flicked them out of the way again. What was a gentle breeze before had progressively gotten stronger as she ventured further into the plains, no longer skirting the edge of the Whitetail. She could see the road weaving through the hills, a few other ponies carting goods in the direction of the Trader's Exchange. Turning her eyes to the sky, she caught clouds at the horizon, under the sun. Dark clouds, heralding something of a drizzle in the future. A sense of unease crept into her chest, and she pressed on along the road.
Turning her eyes forward, she crested a hill and saw that there were a lot more wagons on the road than she had initially thought. Even given the rich and boisterous nature of the lot of merchants that attended the Exchange, the sight of so many ponies moving to her destination filled her with a sense of pride, determination and purpose.
She took a deep breath and exhaled through her nose, feeling something warm on her lip. She reached up to wipe it and realized her nose was bleeding again.
"Geez, I must've messed it up pretty bad," she mumbled, wiping her nose and tilting her head back. Blood trickled down her throat and made her rethink the idea, turning her head to the side and spitting the metallic taste out of her mouth.
"Ugh."
She glanced back to the stormclouds, a glare crossing her gaze. You better not give me any problems.
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Scrunching up her nose, Jasmine noted that it wasn't bleeding anymore. She wiped her eyes and yawned, a shiver running down her spine. The curvature of the road followed the shape of a small pond, curling around to dip further into the valley and disappear over another drop. The landscape was dreary and plain, every hill the same as the last. She couldn't stop yawning and the wind was beginning to have a bite about it. She had skirted half of the pond before her eyes widened and she stopped, searching the sky for the sun. As she expected, the source of her darkened surroundings was the curtain of thick, pillowy clouds that was hanging over her head.
Her jaw dropped, soft words lost to the wind.
"Ohh, ponyfeathers."
Pt. A fat raindrop audibly hit the path by her hoof, and Jasmine sighed. She took a step forward and felt another droplet hit her bangs, followed by two more somewhere shortly behind her. Then it fell all at once, giving her reason to move on as puddles began to form within minutes.
The path, now having become something of a stream, gently dipped down between two ledges. It curled to the left, following the shape of the rock face and curving back the other way to cross a ditch on a small wooden bridge. The creek inside was rising from the rain, but it moved at a sluggish pace.
As she crossed the bridge, she spat strands of her mane out from between her lips and tried to blink the water out of her eyes. The droplets fell from her lashes like tears before quickly getting replaced by more...
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The pine tree shuddered, creaking and popping under the strain of its own weight. A fierce buck sent the wedge even deeper into the trunk, and thick, turquoise blue forelegs rested against the tree to push it down. The day was clear, the air fresh, but the shade from the trees made him shiver. The cold morning air seemed to press his cold sweat onto his skin, leaving his entire bulky body tense.
He liked the work, and his conditions; the morning wasn't going to change for anypony. If he grew to mind the freezing chill then his mood would plummet, and nothing short of sleep could make Ocean Blue cheerful again.
He grunted against the weight of the tree, shouldering against it and pushing with his hind legs. The trunk popped almost in anguish as it fell to the ground with a crash among other stumps that rose out of the underbrush like headstones. Had it been later in the day, the podzol underhoof would be dry where the stumps were most common, without the shelter of the treetops to protect it from the sun.
But now, on a dreary clouded morning, the leaves were very much damp, their smell dominating Blue's senses. He knew it well; he was a logger, after all. His heavy build seemed unnatural for a pegasus, but his father had been an earth pony. His weight made it difficult for him to fly, and thus he rarely did so. His aerial stamina was hopeless, and his manners were self-taught. The deviation between his name and his career often confused ponies; they usually assumed he was a sailor of some sort, when in truth he was named both for his parents' love for the sea and his pelt colors. The rougher, darker fur that lightly coated his jaw was unevenly cut, but tidy enough. But his mane, the same dark shade of turquoise as his stubble but streaked with even darker colors, was unruly and disobedient. It hung low, uncut and completely ignored.
It fell in his violet eyes as he picked up a saw from the ground in his teeth. After he trimmed the branches and cut the trunk into logs, he heaved them one by one onto the large, degraded wagon drawn up behind him. By the time he'd hitched himself up and began following the stumps, the wind began to pick up and the branches overhead rustled. Within a few minutes, the dense treeline between himself and the ocean fell away, revealing completely violent-looking clouds and a rough pattern of waves on his left. He crested a hill, and his small cottage came into view, with a wagon shelter and a grindstone, both past their prime, in the back. The wind plowed into him from the east, but his heavy load refused to budge.
The wagon's weight shifted towards him as he descended the hill, though he had taken the route many times in his life and was fully capable of keeping it in control. He caught a flash of light in his peripheral, and a low rumble echoed over the coast.
Looks like trouble, he thought to himself. He hastened his pace and pulled the wagon into the dank shelter, unfastening the hitch and letting the arms fall onto the rests on either side of him. He could smell the rain through the salty tinge of the ocean, and that trip to Rainbow Falls was out of the question. He'd just have to arrive on normal time, along with all the rest of the darn traffic. He trotted out of the wagon shelter and around to the front of the house, nudging the door open and going inside.
"Don't sound very inviting out there," said Seafoam from the kitchen. Blue's cousin was considerably smaller than he was, and so she typically stayed around the homestead. Her mane was the same color as his pelt, but a bit paler, and her own coat was only a few shades brighter than royal blue. Her wings fluttered as she stepped into the den, giving him an appraising look. "Rainbow Falls off?"
Blue's nose scrunched up as he glanced at the kitchen door. The entire house smelled thickly of garlic. "Mhmm. What've you uh..." he trailed off, his brows furrowed. Her pale blue eyes widened as she bolted into the kitchen with the sound of an oven opening and a heavy pan crashing to the floor.
When Blue reached the door, he found their largest baking pan dropped in front of the open oven with Seafoam next to it on her hind legs, shaking her forehooves and hissing. The contents of the pan looked like a casserole, with a half-cooked crust and a hideous overdose of garlic coating the top. When Seafoam had recovered, she found their lone potholder and put the dish back in the oven.
"I guess it wasn't burning, then," she said enthusiastically, closing the oven door. When she turned to go back into the den, he went in ahead of her. But instead of continuing, he turned the corner and stepped up the stairs, which contained the only two other rooms in the cottage.
The upstairs hall ran the length of the house with a small window on either side, and two doors sat side-by-side in the center of the hall. He nudged open the one on the right and stepped inside, the room dimly lit through the overcast sunlight coming in from the window against the back of the house, identical to the ones in the hall. Blue's nightstand sat under the windowsill with a candle atop, his bed to the left of it.
He opened the nightstand drawer, revealing the cluttered contents: several folded pieces of parchment, unceremoniously smothering the dwindling pile of unused pages, a faded feather quill, and an inkwell. Which was also rather low on ink.
He nuzzled through the folded pages and pulled a blank one from the nightstand, setting it next to the candle. The inkwell followed, and the quill was sat on the page itself. He stepped up onto his bed and folded his legs under him, his wings ruffling to make themselves comfortable. He picked up the quill in his teeth and dipped it in what little ink he had left, and as he began to write the thunder gave a low rumble over the homestead.
The cherry willow in the forest was great, with its heavy drooping limbs and pale budding flowers. Spring had arrived and the wind had followed, carrying the scent of past and present, clover and rain. The birds have birthed and now sing to their young. And the cherry willow in the forest made its own seeds now, and the spring wind carried them to far away lands.
The cherry willow in the forest was dying, with its insect-eaten limbs and naked leafless branches. Spring had arrived and the wind had gave chase, carrying the sight of past and present, sky and storm. The birds' young are young no more, but their eggs were eaten by rodents. And the cherry willow in the forest had only one seed now, and the spring wind carried it to far away lands.
The cherry willow in the forest was dead, with its dark rotten limbs, and its branches played host to the spiders. Spring had arrived and the wind had struck savagely, carrying the feeling of past and present, hope and fear. The birds' young mourned their parents and had their own children, but one was premature and could not fly. And the cherry willow on the hill high above the forest was still a sapling, and could not make its own seeds.
Blue's quill returned this time from the inkwell dry, and he couldn't seem to get any no matter which way he twisted it. He huffed and laid the pen on his nightstand; he wasn't finished with the page, but if he left it out then Seafoam might see it. He hated it when anypony read his poems. He heard a heavy thudding from downstairs that wasn't from Seafoam's cooking, and his brow knit together as he hopped out of bed and nudged his door open. He was trotting down the stairs when he heard it again, and he heard his cousin open the door.
"Good evening miss," he heard a gruff voice say. He quickened his pace. "We're here on official business for the Royal Crowns of Equestria." When he stepped into the den and saw that there were two stoic white pegasus stallions in their front entrance, clad in golden armor, saddlebags, and a level gaze, he wasn't surprised. Not after their previous statement, anyway.
"What's happening?" Seafoam asked as he stepped up beside her. The guard who wasn't speaking pulled a rolled piece of paper from his saddlebags and unfurled it for the other to read.
"'We regret to inform you that this is government land, and it has been publicly put up for sale as a personal residence as has many of the surrounding properties. You must either pay the full price of 11,804 bits, the monthly rent of 422 bits, or alternatively propose a loaning deal. From this point in time, you have exactly one week before you are revisited and evicted, should you not conform to any one of the previous terms.'"
Seafoam's eyes moved between the two of them, while Blue's gaze had gained a knife-like quality. His cousin's voice cracked when she spoke, like it does when she's nervous, or scared. It just made him angrier. "Is this a joke? Ya'll probably made some mistake, our family's lived here for three generations now. This is our home."
The stallion's expression didn't change, though he shook his head slightly. "This is not a joke, and the Guard does not make mistakes. We're sorry."
Silence parted them like a guillotine, and the stallion with the legal scroll rolled it back up and returned it to his saddlebags. "We will return in one week," he said, nodding to them. The guards turned and stepped out into the yard, before taking off inland and disappearing from sight.
Seafoam's eyes burned from the salt riding the wind pouring in through their door. She met Blue's weary eyes as he looked out at the rolling clouds, then to her. "I guess I'm going, after all." He started out the door, but she caught his foreleg.
"Obie, we can't afford those terms. We're gonna have to move." she said, the word 'move' popping.
"Like you said," he reminded, watching her solemnly, "this is our home. Papa settled it, dad put his heart in it. It's our job to keep it." He tugged his foreleg away from her, stepping out the door.
"It's worth a shot."
Episode 2: Travel In Twos
II, Travel In Twos
To say that Jasmine wasn't happy would be an understatement. She was completely miserable. All of her merchandise was more-than-likely ruined, she'd probably have to preen until her neck was sore, and her rear left ankle was hurting because she'd sprained it slipping on the path. In truth she didn't mind her ankle that much, but it didn't help to keep her eroding patience intact. On top of all of this, she couldn't breathe from her nose because it was blocked off with coagulated blood, and there was something in her eye that wouldn't leave.
With my luck, she mused darkly to herself, it's probably some lethally poisonous thorn the wind blew off of some bush to land in my eye. But after a few seconds, she then decided that her instantaneous death would actually be a blessing at that particular moment, so her luck would have it be something completely harmless. She then chuckled a bit at the thought, Oh, woe is me, I'm still alive. Ohh noooo...
Her face turned to the mist-obscured ground beneath her as she let in a rush of cold air through a yawn, her eyes squeezed shut. And her forehead collided painfully with something solid, startling the yawn out of her throat. She looked up to see a shuddering pile of logs on the bed of a wagon, stacked four high and four across at the bottom, with supports on either end to keep them from rolling off. It took her a moment to realize that somepony was pulling the wagon, and that pony was about to get dragged down the other side of the hill along with their lumber.
Jasmine moved to the roadside and released her hitch, then caught the back of the wagon's bed in her teeth and pulled. Splinters of old wood broke away from the bed and made her lose her grip, nearly leaving her on her haunches with a tongueful of sharp wood. She spat it out and dashed around to the other side, where she braced her shoulder against it and ground her hooves into the dirt. Twice she lost her footing, but little by little, they brought the wagon back to the top of the rise.
The pony she was helping released the decrepit hitch that kept them attached to the wagon and let the arms fall to the mud, then collapsed on the roadside. As she trotted up to see if they were alright, she couldn't get a good look at their features through the rain, but she could see they were big and blue, and their build was masculine.
"Are you alright?" she said loudly over the rain, craning to see his face. His mane was long and dark, with his bangs were sticking to the mud and his forehead. He turned his head slightly to look at her, and his dark eyes widened as he seemed to realize she was still there. He pulled himself to his hooves and his wings fluttered, tattered, disheveled and muddy.
"Thanks," he said, nodding to her. His voice was strong, but it wasn't all that deep. Certainly not as deep as Macintosh, one of the apple farmers she traded with regularly in Ponyville. A dull crack rang out, and the stallion's eyes flicked behind her. He ran back to the wagon as the arms snapped, sending his entire load into a free-roll down the hill. It disappeared into the storm, barreling its way down the road like a locomotive. His ears flattened and his mane fell over his face, as he lowered his head in defeat.
Feeling inclined to keep his mood better than hers, she nudged his elbow. "Hey, c'mon. You needed a new cart anyway." He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his gaze even and lost.
"Right," he said, his dead expression remaining as he kept walking. She frowned, determined to help him out.
"You wanna wait this out with me?" she called. He stopped, giving her an odd look.
"Under your wagon?" When she didn't answer him, he continued, "We'll be just as wet." She shrugged, her soggy braid shifting on her shoulder.
"We're on a hill, so we won't have water running under us," she pointed out. Then she smiled. "There's nothing but stormy road if you keep going."
He studied her for a long pause, then slowly turned around and trudged back through the mud. He stood in the road as Jasmine walked over to her cart and closed the ring around herself, pulling the wagon out of the underbrush and letting it go in a position where it wouldn't follow the lumber cart down the hill. Then she opened the chest with her tent booth in it and crammed her saddlebags inside, shutting the lid back and crawling under her wagon. It took a few seconds, but he stepped over and managed to get his large frame under their shelter.
Neither of them spoke for a while, though dripping wet and freezing, they were grateful for the other's warmth. The traffic she had seen earlier seemed to have abandoned the paths after it started raining, retreating to roadside inns and the small towns that dotted long roads like these.
It's a good thing, she thought with a chuckle, since we're camping in the middle of the road. He laid his head down on his forehooves, sighing and watching something in the underbrush by the path. She soon followed suit, crossing her legs over themselves and resting her chin on top of them. The rain lulled her ears, and her companion's breathing silenced her thoughts. Her weight pressed into his side as she fell asleep, leaving him to watch the rain on his own.
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Valleys are deep and misty, flanked by mountains and hills on all sides with birds flitting about like little rockets with a destiny. Being the vast expanse of beauty they commonly are, they're usually unmissable. But in the middle of a downpour only comparable to the sky imploding, it's rather difficult to take in your surroundings.
When Blue opened his eyes, the world around the wagon was drenched and soggy, but the rain had stopped and the sun reflected off the clouds. Jasmine was still asleep with her head propped against his shoulder, snoring quietly. Huffing to himself, he laid his head back down and waited for her to wake on her own.
It took her a while, maybe half an hour, but she began to stir. She realized she was leaning on him and quickly righted herself, rubbing her nose with an ankle. "Sorry 'bout that," she said, suppressing a yawn and shaking her head a bit. He just shrugged and looked at her almost mournfully.
"It's fine." He crawled out from under the wagon and took a deep breath, able to see what was around him quite clearly now. In the direction they came from, the road wound and disappeared into the rippling hills, away from the sunset. A dense wood was just a few yards from the roadside, and the hill he nearly tumbled down lead into a vast, beautiful valley. The road dipped in and curved around a glassy, blissful lake, to vanish on the other side between two mountains. On the other side of the valley was a thin forest of willow trees, their leaves lost when summer ended. On the end opposite them, on a plateau, liquid rainbows fell from pools in the clouds and disappeared into the distant buildings of Rainbow Falls.
"Hey, what's your name?" he heard the mare ask. When she didn't recieve an answer, she stepped past the rise of the hill and took a breath. "Oh. Wow."
I was almost there, he roared at himself silently. And I still lost everything. His jaw was clenching.
"Hey, what's wrong?" she said. It made him realize she was looking at him again. Her eyes made him feel translucent, like he was a book for her to read. But instead of meeting her gaze, he watched the willow trees sway in the wind, leaning into each other as if in conversation.
He took a deep breath, and said, "I'm fine." He glanced back at her wagon. "You ready to go?" She watched him for a second, and moved to hitch herself to her cart.
"Yeah. Let's go."
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As they descended the hill, the stallion kept a wary hold on the back of the cart, and when they reached the lake he stopped and stared at the water. She followed his eyes to a lone piece of wood hardly sticking out of the reflective surface. The rest of his wagon and it's load were barely visible under the glassy lake.
Dark shapes slowly merged out from the other side of the lake; an airship reflected on the water, guiding Jasmine's eyes to the sky. From the south east, it came into view, soon followed by another. The second one, however, seemed to cradle dense storm clouds on either side. Jasmine could see propellors on both of the ships, with two in the back and one on either side. "I haven't seen one like that before," the stallion mused, his mind taken off of his lost lumber.
She watched the aircraft slowly come closer in awe, but turned away when a small breeze blew and she shivered. We need to arrive before it gets too dark. "C'mon," she called back to him, starting forward again. "We're gonna be late." He fell into step behind her, and when she glanced back at him, she could see another wagon of goods being hauled by high-end ponies rising over the hills to enter the valley.
Already, the traffic is picking up again.
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When they reached the mountains, they immediately saw the zigzagging path leading up the plateau rock face to their destination. Nearly every stretch of road was already full of traffic from the other direction, and she was about to sigh and trudge up the path when she felt her cart shift. She looked behind her, finding her companion with the back of her cart in his forehooves. "What're you doing?" she said, looking at him accusingly.
He looked at her, his brow knit, and said, "What're you carrying in this thing? Rags?"
"Clothes, actually," she said, frowning.
"Oh. Well it's light. I figured we could skip the trail and lift it," he continued, ruffling his wings. She looked back at the impossibly slow line with a growing number of members and shrugged.
"Sounds good, actually." She'd never carried a wagon before, but she supposed she could just follow his pointers since he seemed to have more experience with heavy lifting.
"Goes best without the hitch," he pointed out. She released the ring around her barrel, turned around, and braced her hooves under the arms of the cart. They both started up at his nod, and she realized just how heavy her little wagon was. Her blood pulsed with adrenaline every time she fell a bit behind, but after a few seconds she was keeping pace. She was proud of herself until she realized that he was giving out, but still pushed himself on until they let it gently down on the grass of Rainbow Falls.
Her muscles were burning, but he was completely out of it. He kept wincing and arching his back, flapping his wings around like they were tied down with a rope. She was about to ask what was wrong with him when he calmed down and folded them to his sides. He caught her stare and looked away.
"Cramping," was all he said, his ear twitching.
A mighty boom shook the ground, making them whirl to the airspace above the valley. The airships were nearly to their destinaton, but the leading vessel was aflame, the second following at a dangerously close proximity. They could see small flitting dots moving between them, and the stormclouds on either side of the second vessel were lashing out at its target with lightning. The cargo ship's lift cable hitches were compromised, and two snapped away with sharp twangs.
The entire rig slowly fell, striking tents and carts nose-first as terrified screams bit into their ears. The attacking ship lowered gently next to it, two ponies leaping off and into the other one. Are these...? Blue wondered, his balance spread wide.
"Pirates," Jasmine seemed to finish. There wasn't anything but intensity about her. No anger, or even fear. And to him, a similar demeanor came to his thoughts: unfogged, sharp, disdainful but certainly clear.
The Exchange is out. Nothin's gonna get traded this year.
We're still gonna be broke.
We're still gonna lose the mill...
He tightened his jaw and calmly walked toward the hulking airship. The Feuerwand, he saw, on a brass plate at the bow. It's a nice name, he reasoned lamely, maybe they're nice ponies. Holding his breath for luck to find its way to him, he crouched low and pumped his wings, landing heavily on the deck. Two of the ponies managing the bow cannons heard him and whirled around. They charged at him as he bowed low, realizing how badly this idea had turned out...
Until the two were stopped by a strong call. "Gutter! Shank!"
He swallowed gratefully, standing upright to look for the pony who'd spoken. Walking towards them from the stern of the Feuerwand was a pale red unicorn mare. Her mane, held back in a thin ponytail, matched her pelt but with lighter streaks, and her dark, blood-colored eyes matched the trenchcoat she wore.
On a side note, she has a nose piercing, he noticed. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Jasmine landed lightly beside him, garnering more dark looks from the rest of the crew.
As the captain stopped in front of them, she said, "We've got maybe six minutes, then we have to bail, so..." Blue swallowed again, feeling Jasmine's eyes boring into the back of his head.
"I need some money," he said tightly.
The mare watched the two of them for a second, then she grinned. The smile turned into a lighthearted laugh, and she said, "You're gonna have to take that up with Cap', wherever the hay he went."
"Swordplay!" one of the ponies from the stern called. The mare's expression turned serious, and she turned to them.
"What is it?"
"Two Solar rigs comin' 'round from th' Northwest, miss!"
She thought for a second, then called to the pilot at the wheel, "Don't take off 'til I say otherwise or Anchor Hoof is accounted for!"
Looking over her shoulder, Blue caught sight of two enormous vessels heading straight for them, Celestia's brand on their balloons.
"They're pressin' on fast, miss! We've not got time!" The mare growled under her breath, then addressed Gutter and Shank, who were back at their cannons.
"Do either of you see Cap?!" Both of them looked over the downed cargo ship, but shook their heads with no results. She gritted her teeth and looked back at the Solar defense ships, only a couple hundred yards away now.
"Miss, we've got to take lift!" the pilot yelled frantically. The three ponies at the stern, a pegasus mare and stallion plus a unicorn mare, tensed up, ready to knock some heads. The mare in charge took a breath, held it, and closed her eyes as she exhaled.
Snapping her gaze back to the tan mare at the wheel, she called, "Alright, move it! Let's get this dirty filly in the air!" A cannonball exploded from one of the defense ships and sailed over their heads, Blue knocking Jasmine to the deck and Swordplay quickly following suit. The projectile soared safely away from the Feuerwand, disappearing violently beneath the surface of the lake inside the valley. The pilot wrenched the controls with all her weight, the ship scraping across the tops of houses and shops as the rig put distance between itself and the ground.
Simultaneously deciding that escape is their best option, Blue pulled Jasmine to her hooves and the two leaped over the edge of the Feuerwand, spreading their wings and gaining distance from the ship. A distant pop heralded the cartridge that shot through her wing and she roared, dropping several feet in altitude and unable to keep herself in the air. Obie swept up and knocked the breath out of her, wrapping his forehooves around her barrel. She growled in pain again and clenched her eyes shut, only opening her eyes when they had touched down again.
She laid on the deck of the Feuerwand, the pirates geared for violence. The captain approached them again, the red mare brandishing a scabbard at her side and a pistol holstered against her breast.
"Back so soon?" she asked with a half-smile. She nodded to Blue, her smirk dropping. "Things're about to get nasty, mate." Blood dripped from Jasmine's wing onto the deck, her legs shaking as she got back on her hooves.
"Then why the hay are we here?" she growled, her teeth grit against the pain as she shot a glare at Blue. He shrank back, his eyes wide.
The red mare's horn lit up as her firearm spun out of its holster, cartridges and powder sweeping out from under her coat and finding their way inside the pistol. "I suppose that's for you two to go over," she muttered, sliding her weapon back into its holster with a shik. Looking off, she called roughly, "Whitey, you got a bullet wound to tend to!", and trotted over to the stern.
After giving the mare an incredulous look, Jasmine's wild eyes found a midsized white unicorn stallion with a long salt-and-pepper mane and a trimmed goatee stepping out from below deck. He nodded for Jasmine to follow and disappeared again, but she remained still until Blue started forward. As she grimaced and began to trot ahead, roars erupted from the stern as cannonballs sailed across the airspace into the Guardships.
The halls beneath the Feuerwand were narrow but well-lit, with a path leading both ways and the stallion disappearing into an archway to the right. She remained a few steps behind him, with Ocean Blue behind her eying the speckled path of dripping blood. Whitey led them into a small room with two endtables and one cot, with a large bottle of dark fluid on one table and a wooden case on the other. A candle set into a small pocket in the wall sat half-melted, and light poured in from the open window.
He pat the uncomfortable-looking cot as a deafening BOOM! spoke of the immense discharge the ship's clouds put out. More roars from the stern cannons rang out as Jasmine shakily laid on her stomach on the bed. Whitey's gray aura enveloped the bottle and sent it over to her as he opened the box and took out a pair of iron tweezers and gauze. She took the bottle and sniffed it, her eyes widening as she grimaced.
"Dark rum cider," the medic said in a refined accent, turning around and leaving his tools behind at the table. "Drink up, quickly. Lead's not a nice thing to keep in you." Blue sat down in the hall as the mare looked at the bottle with subtle disgust. She bit her lip, clenched her eyes shut and tossed her head back, managing a few swigs of the alcohol before putting the bottle down and growling at the hot sensation in her throat.
"A few more," Whitey said calmly, his horn lighting up and plucking a thin red ribbon and thin iron tools from one of the tables. The ribbon wrapped around his mane and put itself into a simple knot, pulling it out of his eyes and letting his charcoal gaze scrutinize her wing. She ignored his closeness and tried to drink more, but coughed when it touched her lips again. Pain lanced up her side and she grunted, Whitey using his magic and some other prodding tool to part the bloody feathers. "Attagirl, try again."
She took a breath and downed another mouthful, and one of the tools got into her wound. She squealed and her wing jerked, but Whitey was already levitating the roll of gauze to her wing. "So," he said brightly, his brows raising, "The cartridge went straight through and avoided bone, so there isn't any lead to poison you. No shards or anything." Her testy breathing and tight jaw kept him from applying the gauze yet, though blood still leaked onto the cot and floor. The room smelled stale and metallic, now that she noticed it.
The medic said, "You can drink a pint more and maybe sleep for a bit, or I can get you a rag to bite onto and I can wrap your wing with only a tad of booze to keep you tidy." She calmed down, shifted in the cot and tried to present her wing to him. It unfolded pitifully and quickly snapped back to her side, her face contorting into another grimace. Whitey brought the gauze close and chuckled. "You sure are a fiesty one, aye?"
A rag swooped out from his box and twisted itself tightly in mid-air, presented near her muzzle before he brought the gauze any closer. The state of the cloth had Jasmine giving him a 'really, do I have to?' look. "I understand it's stained, but it's what we've got," he said kindly. "Go on, bite down." After a second longer, she hesitantly swallowed and took the rag between her teeth, keeping her tongue as far out of the way was possible.
The medic nearly began wrapping the wing on his own, but he realized that Blue was still there and looked over at him. "You look pretty strong, mate. D'you mind holding her still?"
Obie's eyes widened and his mouth opened as if he were going to protest, but he swallowed and stepped up to her. Up close she was in
obvious pain, her breathing fast and her one visible eye watching him. Her coat glistened with sweat and just provoked the awkward side of him that couldn't handle closeness, but he dryly swallowed again and gently lowered his weight until he securely held her barrel down.
Finally, Whitey began his work, the squeals and roars erupting into the hall mingling with cannonfire and the occasional crack of a firearm.
