Ice Fall

by Bluespectre

Rating: teen
Tags: Princess Celestia, Nightmare Moon, Princess Luna, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Romance, Adventure
Length: 425179

Celestia has gone. The forces of the night, victorious at the battle of River Valley, push on towards the castle of the two sisters. Two friends find themselves caught up in the maelstrom of war and their lives will likely never be the same again.

The unthinkable has happened. Celestia, wounded and pursued by her enemies, falls from the sky behind enemy lines. Watching in horror, the Celestian army falls back in disarray as the forces of Nightmare Moon push ever onward. Enlisting with the promise of excitement and adventure, two young friends leave their country village to join in the fight against the Legion. Reality however, is a cruel teacher. Perhaps somewhere in the ashes of defeat, there is still hope for a brighter tomorrow.

Published 2016-02-02 22:00:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-04-01 21:58:43 UTC

Chapter Two - Advancing in another direction

CHAPTER TWO

ADVANCING IN ANOTHER DIRECTION

Above the valley floor the air was clearer, but still carried the faint hint of blood upon the wind along with the ever present din of battle. A dark grey coated stallion armoured in silver plate, shook his mane and hoofed the telescope to his aide de camp,
“Damn that bitch…”

The red coated mare beside him sighed, “There goes our centre.” She spat on the ground, angrily folding her own telescope, “Whose arse buckingly stupid idea was it to keep all the bloody foals together, Dray?”

Colonel Dray shook his mane and turned away in silence. He knew who was to blame. He’d also known how this tragedy was going to end long before they’d even drawn up the formations. Damn him! Damn that goddess cursed fop and all his reeking kind! The blood of who knew how many was on his hooves now and somehow, by some miracle, he was supposed to just ‘pick up the pieces’ was he?

“Oh gods…Dray…”

The Colonel span round and snatched the telescope from his fellow officer, following where she was pointing. The breath caught in his throat, “Major Wild” he whispered.

After a moment, his fellow officer licked her lips and gasped back a reply, “Dray?”

“Don’t breathe a word of this to the rest, you understand?” he said calmly, “You saw nothing. If anypony asks, the princess has gone back to Canterlot to rally the guard.”

The red mare was silent, simply nodding her response. The Colonel didn’t need her say anything, he knew his friend would keep his confidence close to her heart. If only others had, if only…

He slammed a hoof down on the map, “Wild, send up the red flares.”

The Major eyes went wide, “But…”

Dray lay a hoof on the mares shoulder, “Heather, I know how you feel, goddesses know I do, but we have to do this or else…” He shook his mane and looked back at the streaming mass of ponies, “or else all will be lost.”

Wild nodded and turned to her commanders, issuing orders. Dray hung his head a moment then held out his hoof for the flask of water being offered by his aide. If there was one saving grace, at least that piece of dung from the capital wasn’t here with his pointless and insipid remarks, his stupid sneering smile…

Dray could feel his grip on his sword tightening. If that damned fool had been there, he’d have liked nothing more than to send that puffed up aristocrat to the eternal herd with a sword in his gullet. But now was not the time for such things; no, not now. He drove the intrusive feelings away and called for his runner, “Take this to Commander Spar, and stay there with him.”

“Sir” the pony clopped a hoof to her heart and immediately charged off down the reverse slope towards the forest road. The Colonel watched her go. She would be safe there, or at least, safer than here. He closed his eyes a moment; may the goddess forgive them all. Behind him a barrage of red flares exploded high in the sky, illuminating the world in their ominous fluorescent glare.

“We’d better go too, Dray”, Wild Heather stated, returning to his side. She stared up at the flares, “They know what to do now.”

The Colonel nodded solemnly, lifting his head to the breeze, “I hope to the goddess you’re right.” He clamped his helmet on his head and trotted back to where his guard was waiting, “Let’s go Major. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

The forest road was quickly becoming a thick muddy morass, churned up by the hooves of fleeing soldiers. Oblivious to the world around them, a steady stream of broken, frightened and thoroughly exhausted warriors passed by their senior officers like they weren’t even there. The Captain of Dray’s personal guard roughly shoved one of the weary soldiers out of their way as they moved onward, up into the foothills, every step that little bit nearer to the capital. Collapsing into the underbrush at the side of the road, the stallion didn’t move. All his energy, all his fight, sucked from him in those terrible moments on the battlefield. Dray looked into those hollow eyes of the defeated soldier, and closed his own. He knew from his own experience that as much as the physical scars could heal, the emotional ones, the damage to a pony’s mind, would take a lot more than simple bandages and magical healing. He’d seen that look before, that stare, it was like looking into the face of…

“Dray?”

He looked round at the red mare who was gazing at him with a concerned expression,

“You alright?”

Dray nodded, “Thinking, Major, just thinking.” He gave his mane a shake and cleared his throat. He wasn’t in the mood to talk, not right now. There were far more important matters to think upon. Not least of which was how to deal with a certain little problem back at the castle. He’d enjoy dealing with that at least, watching the little piece of dung writhe…

“You’re smiling!” Wild said in surprise.

Several of the command glanced round and returned the simple gesture, a sudden spring in their step. Buoyed up by the unexpected expression on their colonel’s face, the mood of the warriors around him changed dramatically, some even beginning to laugh. It was infectious too: spreading out around them in a rippling wave, ponies trudging along the path of retreat stopped to stare, glassy eyed expressions turning to ones of…hope.

Dray raised a hoof to halt his party. Around them, soldiers began to move closer to see what was going on, pressing in, eager to see what was happening. The Colonel abruptly caught one of the mud drenched warriors, pulling him into the middle of the throng, his voice loud and clear, “What’s your name soldier?”

“Gr…Gravel Path, Sir.”

She looked terrified, her eyes darting from him to the heavily armed guards ponies. Dray lay a hoof on her shoulder, “Did you fight for the princess today, Private?”

The tired mare nodded, “I did.”

“Did you try your best?”

Again she nodded, “Yes, Sir.”

He clopped her on the shoulder, “Then that is all anypony could ask of you my daughter.” Suddenly, he pulled her into an embrace, released her and addressed the now massing ponies, “What you have done, all of you, is no more than I would have expected as the sons and daughters of our beloved homeland: to fight hard, to give your all, to protect your loved ones, your country and your princess. I tell you now, every stallion, every mare here this day, that I would willingly, WILLINGLY, fight by your side as a child of Equestria.” Dray neighed loudly, “What happened here today will not be forgotten, not by me, not by anypony. And do NOT think this is the end, no…” He shook his head and smiled, “I promise you all, all of you, that hope remains, and that the princess is with us, each and every pony. She is in the sky, the land, the water, in your very hearts, watching and waiting to see how you will stand with her, and with your brothers and sisters in the coming days, to protect our world.”

One of the ponies pushed forward, a bloodied bandage on his neck. The young stallion looked up at the Colonel through bloodshot eyes, “But…I lost my friends…they’re gone, all of them.”

Colonel Dray nodded solemnly, “I know.” He gave the stallion a brief nuzzle before addressing the rest, “I lost my eldest brother to a Yak raid last year. My younger sister was…lost, in the first days of the war with the forces of Nightmare Moon. There is never a day that goes by that I don’t miss them, and still love them with all my heart.” He bobbed his head and smiled, raising his voice, “But I don’t grieve them! No, no I don’t. And why not?” He addressed the furrowed brows and baffled looks with a grin, “Because they’re with the herd now, under a warm sun and blue skies, where the water is as pure as a mountain spring, the apples as sweet as nectar on the trees and they wait with my mother and father to welcome me home again.” Dray drew his sword, the flashing blade drawing every eye, “But that is for another day, not this one. Today I will fight for Equestria, to make my family proud of me, to protect the lives of the ones we love here in this world. For you, for every one of you, I would lay down my life happily so you can all live as you were meant to, beneath the light of Celestia’s sun.”

Taking a deep breath, the dark grey stallions eyes shone, his voice bellowing out across the land around him, “Never forget was has happened here this day. Remember it in your hearts. Let that feeling fill you, channel it, focus it, and return it with the full vengeance of the children of the sun upon those who would seek to drive us into darkness. Hope is just beyond that hill my children, hope for a new dawn, a new future for Equestria.”

Dray threw his forelegs wide, “FOR EQUESTRIA!”

There was a spontaneous chorus of shouting and neighing from the massed warriors. The sound of hundreds, thousands, of voices filled the air with their power, life and vibrancy, “FOR EQUESTRIA!”

Major Wild smiled to herself. The Colonel had never lost that connection with the ponies around him, regardless of rank. He was still a young farm hoof at heart really, still busy ploughing that broken ground, bringing life where once there was nothing but barren wilderness. She felt her heart soar as she raised her own voice with the rest. ‘Beyond the hill’, eh? She closed her eyes, feeling renewed strength and energy surging through her. The old bugger had pulled yet another rabbit out of the hat, hadn’t he. No wonder he stirred her heart so.

Dray grabbed the tired soldier beside him, “Are you up for a gallop, daughter?”

The mare looked up at him, her youthful eyes confused, “But…where to, Colonel?”

“Where?” he laughed, “Why, beyond the hill of course! Beyond the hill!”

Rearing, the dark grey stallion surged forward, bursting from the crowded ponies like a cork from a bottle. Wild watched him for a moment then shouted aloud herself, “Well, what are you waiting for? LET’S MOVE!”

Cheering broke out as the mass began to surge forward, the land shuddering with the rumbling of thousands of hooves as the broken and defeated army began to move as one towards the hill, and the promise of hope for their homeland. They pressed on. Only darkness and death lay behind them now, but ahead, just cresting the hill, was a shining, glittering mass of white and grey coated armoured warriors, standing like statues from legend. Above them, snapping and rippling in the breeze, flew the banners of red and gold. There was no doubt as to who they were.

Major Wild shouted over to the Colonel as she drew alongside him, “You old fart, you bloody well did it again didn’t you?”

Dray laughed, the wind catching his mane and his thundering hooves kicking up clods of earth as he galloped, “You know me, Heather!”

Wild shook her head, “He’ll gut you for this, Dray, you know that don’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t think so, Major.” Dray called back, raising an eyebrow, “No…I don’t think so.”

Wild snorted. He was up to something, and no doubt sooner or later she’d find out what it was. If he wanted her to of course, and if there was one thing Dray was good at, it was keeping his mouth shut. In fact, for all the years she’d know him, she’d never heard about his brother or sister until now. Maybe later, after a few wheat beers she and he could…

A tall, white coated officer in burnished armour outlined in silver trotted up and saluted smartly, “Colonel Dray.”

The Colonel returned the salute, “Colonel Spoon” He clasped forelegs with the older mare,

“Thank you, Golden, really.”

The white coated mare eyed him with a deep turquoise eye, “You owe me for this, Dray. Disobeying orders could mean my head on a block.”

Dray raised an eyebrow, “Perhaps, but I doubt it with your connections.” He shrugged, “Better than a thestral axe through your heart in any case.”

The mare shook her head, “Luna shaft me, Dray, you’d better know what you’re doing.”

Around them, horn began to blare, carried to them on the wind. He smiled, “Oh, I think I do, Golden, I really do.”

A hoof knocked into his helmet.

“Oh, stop being so bloody dramatic!” A pair of jade eyes gazed back at Dray, the red coated Major Wild giving her emerald green mane a rub while she gave him an exasperated look, “You’re more of a drama queen than any pony I’ve ever met!”

The Colonel leaned close, his lips close to her ear, “And you don’t like that?”

Wild coughed suddenly, backing away, “Wha…? I…”

“If you two have quite finished,” Colonel Spoon said levelly, rolling her eyes, “There’s a bloody war to win!”

Dray chuckled, turning to his aide-de-camp, “News?”

“Just coming in now, sir.”

Sure enough, from both sides, lightly armoured runners were approaching at high speed, the steam from their coats clearly visible in the cool air. The first reached him a moment before the other, desperately trying to catch her breath,

“Colonel Dray”, the mare snapped off a smart salute, “Captain Weald reports his division is in position.”

The Colonel nodded, turning to the other messenger.

“Colonel, Lieutenant Sands reports her division is in position.”

Dray raised an eyebrow questioningly, “Lieutenant Sands?”

“Yes sir”, the messenger replied taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry to report that Captain Dew fell during the battle.”

“I see”

Dray sighed. He’d liked Dew, she was an excellent officer, but she’d had that headstrong habit of always being ‘at the point of the spear’ as she called it. Good for morale certainly, but not so good when your division lost their leader. Thank the goddess that Sands knew what she was doing. He had high hopes for that mare.

“Care to share?” Spoon asked.

“Hmm?”

Major Wild sighed, “I wouldn’t bother asking him, Golden, he won’t tell you. He’s the most secretive pony I’ve ever known. Comes as part of the whole ‘drama’ thing.”

“But what if he’s killed?” Spoon sputtered, “What then? What’s the plan?”

“Plan?” Dray furrowed his brow, “Why…to win of course.”

Spoon face hoofed, “Damn it, Dray, you always were bloody infuriating!”

Colonel Dray couldn’t help but laugh, giving Wild a cheeky wink that made her shake her head at him in wonderment. The Major sighed, turning her attention away from the two senior officers to the road. The young warriors, the remnants of the Celestian army centre were rapidly being herded through the lines and formed up as a reserve. The wounded were swiftly whisked away to be tended to and, most importantly, water freely available to everypony. Thank Celestia Colonel Spoon had come through.

The older mare took off her helmet and scrubbed her blue mane, “I’ve never disobeyed an order before in my life, Dray, but by all that’s holy, this time, things have gone too far.”

Dray nodded, “I won’t disagree with you there.”

“It was a doomed plan to begin with” Major Wild added quietly, “They were untrained, poorly equipped…”

“It was bucking suicide is what it was!” Spoon cut in angrily, “That horse’s cock needs bucking well gelding for what he did, and I damned well may do it yet.” She snarled, “The princess will hear of this!”

Flicking his tail, Dray winced. She obviously didn’t know yet, but then, they had no real idea what had happened to her anyway. She’d disappeared, certainly, but what then? He shook the thoughts from his mind and refocused on the matter at hoof, “Golden, what of our other ‘friends’?”

The mare sneered, “Expecting the cavalry to arrive at the last minute and save the day, Colonel Dray?”

Lifting a hoof, he scratched his ear, “Pretty much, Colonel Spoon. Hope springs eternal and all that.”

“Well,” Spoon replied, cocking her head on one side, “If the elder decides to accept our offer and lend a hoof, or ‘claw’ I suppose, then I expect you’ll have your ‘dramatic entrance’.” Spoon nodded towards Wild who grinned in reply.

“I don’t think it was a bad offer, Golden” Dray said, “There’s good land up there and…”

“-Oh, the elder isn’t bothered about land.” Spoon interrupted, “They’re far too proud for that.”

Dray sat on his haunches, looking genuinely puzzled, “So why would they…?”

Golden Spoon readjusted her helmet and tightened the straps, “They just hate other dragons.”

“Ah” The Colonel shook his head, “Nothing like sibling rivalry.”

“Nope”

A blast of horns in the distance echoed eerily through the valley lending speed to the last of the ponies on the road. From high above, a bedraggled pegasus flew down to land beside the officers in a flurry of wings, “Boys are off getting more ammo, Colonel, we’re fresh out.”

Dray passed the pegasus his canteen, “Casualties?”

The purple mare shook her wings out, “Plenty, but we’ll get the bastards back, don’t you worry.”

“You’ll get your chance, Flight Captain.”

“Oh, I will, Dray. You can bet your sweet furry arse on that.” The pegasus drained the last of the canteen before thrusting it back into the colonel’s hooves.

“You know what to do next, Harrier?” he asked knowingly.

“Oh, aye, I know my job, Dray.” The bedraggled purple mare wiped her muzzle on her foreleg, “I just hope your lot know theirs.”

In a blast of wind, Harrier launched herself back up into the sky and rapidly disappeared amidst the cloud.

“Damned insolent creature”, Spoon said angrily, “I don’t know how you put up with that…that winged little bitch!”

“She’s good at what she does, Golden.” the Colonel replied, smiling at the disappearing pegasus, “Very good in fact.” He passed his flask to his aide, “Chipper, fill this for me would you please, apparently the bloody things completely empty again.”

“Yes, Colonel”

Dray took a deep breath and shook his mane, “Major Wild, Colonel Spoon…” The two officers turned to face him, “It would appear our guests have arrived.”

****************************

The messenger bowed his head, “Colonel, her divine majesty will see you now”.

Taking a deep cleansing breath, the old warrior looked to his aide who nodded in approval before stepping back, holding the tent flap open for his officer.

The tents interior was lush indeed. Thick, heavy drapes and tapestries adorned the walls while a number of burning braziers added a mysterious feel to the already warm, dark atmosphere. The floor beneath his hooves was heavily carpeted in what looked like real fur. Closing his eyes a moment, he tried not to look too closely; here and there were what looked distinctly like what the equestrians called…’cutie marks’.

“You may come closer, Colonel. I don’t bite.”

The sultry voice was heavy with feminine allure, a siren call to his masculinity, drawing on his primeval urges. A smell, a scent, strong and heady, wafted from the large cushioned chaise longue. Its occupant lay ensconced in a long deep blue robe embroidered with moons and stars, casually leaning upon a number of brightly coloured cushions.

“Divine majesty”, the Colonel bowed low, keeping his eyes to the floor, “I have come as you commanded.”

Nightmare Moon gazed back at him, her azure eyes taking in every inch, every fibre of his being. It felt like she was stripping away the layers of who he was, scrutinising his heart, even his very soul. A veteran of more battles than he could remember, the Colonel had never feared death nor facing down a superior foe, but now, in the presence of the goddess herself, he felt his heart begin to race.

A midnight coated leg stretched out, “Colonel. Attend to me.”

He lifted her hoof and kissed it respectfully, “By your divine guidance”

The goddess smiled wanly, “It wasn’t a command, Colonel, but a request.” She motioned towards a pitcher of wine and two silver filigree goblets, “If you would be so kind.”

The Colonel bowed again, walking carefully over to the sturdy wooden table beside his goddess and grasped the pitcher in his teeth, pouring a generous amount in one of the goblets before carefully passing it to her. He could feel her gaze, those timeless, fathomless eyes boring into him. A shiver ran down his spine, but not one of fear, rather one of…expectation.

Nightmare Moon chuckled, “I hope you’re not thinking naughty thoughts of your goddess, Colonel?”

Keeping his eyes averted, the thestral warrior felt his throat dry, “No, your divine majesty, I would never…”

“-Oh come now, Colonel, we’re both adults aren’t we?” the goddess interrupted with an amused tone to her voice, “Why can’t you accept your feelings and embrace them?”

“I…”

Nightmare Moon laughed out loud, “Such an imagination! My goodness, Colonel, you do surprise me!”

The Colonel’s cheeks flushed red and he began to stammer as he tried desperately to think of something else, anything else, anything other than the beautiful, wonderful smelling creature before him. Closing his eyes he sensed her moving closer, warm breath caressing his muzzle, the scent of evening flowers born upon a gentle breeze across the meadow…

“I can see your dreams…” Her voice was a bare whisper, “I have seen your past, I have felt the steel of your soul. I know the strength of your heart.” Her lips brushed across his muzzle as soft as down, “…I know you better than anyone…Fulminata.”

The Colonel jumped back, startled, “How…?”

Nightmare Moon took a draught of her wine and raised an eyebrow, “How do I know your name? I just told you…” She raised a hoof and tapped the side of his head, “It’s all in here my dear Colonel, all of it, every tiny little scrap laid out like the pages of a book.” The goddess returned to her seat and carefully folded herself back into its cushioned embrace. Eyeing him with an appraising look, she smiled, “Do I make you nervous, Fulminata? I may call you that may I?”

“My parents called me Fulmin, your divinity,” the veteran warrior said respectfully, “and yes, to be in your majestic presence would weaken the knees of any warrior.”

“’Your divinity’” the goddess said quietly, “yes…” She leaned back and took a deep breath before stretching out her hind legs, “Tell me, Fulmin, you have such a beautiful name, why hide behind titles?”

The Colonel shook his head slightly, not wishing to offend his majestic host, “I was named in the old language, born as I was during a thunder storm that ravaged the mountains where my family lived before moving to the lands of the Beyond. My mother, my father, my siblings…they were all killed by dragons as we travelled to what we believed would be a safe new home for all of us. Only I escaped, and I vowed then that I would never use my true name again until I had avenged them upon the corpse of one of those…” He stopped abruptly, “Forgive me divine majesty, I should not have burdened you with my tale.”

“No, no it is quite enlightening, Colonel, truly”. The goddess reached out her hoof, gently lifting his chin, “You have fascinating eyes Fulmin. I can see so much through them and yet…so little. Strange…”

The Colonel waited in silence. He’d not seen the goddess in this mood before. She seemed distant, unfocussed somehow. Normally she was more decisive, aggressive, and yet…

Nightmare moon took another mouthful of her wine, passing the goblet back to the Colonel to fill, “What of Celestia?”

This was more like it, he could handle questions like this, “She escaped the lady Etrida and headed towards the forest to the east. We followed her down and I sent my best officer and a detachment of warriors to recover her.”

The goddess’s lip curled, “You have heard from them since?”

“No, your di…”

The Colonel closed his eyes as the goblet of wine flew past him, crashing into the table and upsetting the pitcher.

“-Then they are already dead, Colonel!” Nightmare Moon shrieked, “You sent a…a ‘detachment’? Against my sister?!”

He took a breath before answering, “Divine majesty, I trust Storm Major Thorn completely. If anyone can recover Celestia, it is him.”

Nightmare Moon sneered, “He can do that, can he?” Her eyes flashed menacingly, “I hope for your sake he is as capable as you seem to think…Colonel.”

The veteran warrior could feel his heart hammering in his chest. This was the goddess he knew, this was the aura of fear she inspired commanding total obedience and implicit loyalty. He felt a stirring in his heart, his blood roaring through his veins. The midnight coated mare suddenly rose from her seat and walked over to him, her black smoke like mane blowing in some unseen wind. His eyes followed her, entranced by that terrible otherworldly beauty. The goddess smiled as she stood tall before him,

“Find her, Colonel…” she purred, “And perhaps, if you please me…” In a sudden rush of hooves, the goddess threw her forelegs around his neck, her eyes fixed upon his. Her muzzle was so close now, her warm lips brushing tenderly across his own, “…there could a ‘gift’ from your goddess.” The midnight coated mare stroked a hoof down the Colonel’s chest, sending a shock of sensation through his body, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you…” She whispered into his ear, a sound so soft, so gentle, yet so cold it sent a shiver into his heart, “Fulminata”.

The Colonel licked his lips, trying to get some moisture back, “Yes, your divinity”

“Bring her back to me…unharmed. You understand, Colonel?”

“Yes, your divinity”

She released him, returning to her chaise longue, “You have your orders. Go now”

The Colonel snapped of a smart salute, “By your divine guidance”

Outside, the air was clear, fresh. Compared to the stifling heat inside the tent it was like being doused in ice water, a chill he needed right now. By the goddess, why…how did she have the effect on him? He gave himself a hard shake, calling to his aide who trotted over dutifully,

“Sir?”

The Colonel stared across the battlefield, the billowing smoke from countless camp fires mingling with the noise of an army celebrating victory. But without bringing Celestia to heel, this battle would be little more than a side story before the end finally came. He cleared his throat, “Any news from the Major?”

“Not as yet, Sir.” His aide replied calmly.

The Colonel fidgeted with his sword. It was more of a ceremonial weapon these days, but once it had been used against his enemies, enemies he could see, feel and touch. Magic however was something he knew little about, and in his position, a lack of knowledge could well prove fatal. He nodded to his aide, “Edge, find Thorn. Send out our fastest fliers and trackers.”

“Yes, Sir”

The Colonels aide saluted smartly and hurried off, issuing orders of his own. Watching him go, Fulminata sighed, sinking to his haunches and rubbed his back. The old wounds still ached, even after all these years.

It never quite goes away does it, Colonel?

The loud rumbling voice behind him was accompanied by a large whuff of sulphurous smoke. He didn’t need to see to know who it was, or what she was. Waving to one of the signallers, the Colonel began walking down the hill, the voice calling out once again,

You can’t walk away from your memories, warrior, no matter how far you travel.

“No…” he murmured half to himself, “Nobody can walk away from the ghosts inside their soul.” Flicking his tail, he broke into a trot, “…Nobody at all.”

A group of thestrals landed nearby and trotted over to join their commanding officer on the field. In the overhanging darkness of the goddess’s night sky, the starlight glittered upon both the living and the dead. Fulminata watched as here and there, parties of warriors walked amongst the fallen, no doubt collecting trophies or despatching the wounded. There was little mercy to be found here, but that was the way it should be. It was the way of things.

A large purple coated thestral approached as they walked down towards where the fighting had been at its most intense, and deadly. The newcomer nodded respectfully, “Colonel”

“Wing Leader Bale”

The Colonel halted, taking a mouthful of water from his canteen. He could still taste the wine from Nightmare Moon’s tent and smell her rich scent in his nostrils. In a way it seemed like sacrilege to wash it away, but dehydration was as sure a killer as any blade, especially when wearing heavy armour. Beside him, the younger warrior removed his helmet, shaking out his mane and addressed the Colonel,

“A fine sight to behold, wouldn’t you say? Nothing quite like the field of battle when one stands upon the broken remains of his enemies.”

The Colonel looked at the officer askance, “Victory? Not quite Wing Leader. The enemy have retreated certainly, but we won’t have our victory until every last Celestian in Equestria bows before us and their witch queen prostrates herself before the goddess.”

Bale nodded, “It will happen, Colonel, of that I have no doubt. The Celestians are a lot weaker than we originally thought. Even their magic proved little deterrent against the will of our warriors.”

“I’ll admit the magic of their unicorn mages was of concern to me, Bale”, the Colonel replied levelly, “But I agree, their lack of battle experience was telling.”

“Telling?!” The younger officer looked amazed, “They fled the field like whipped dogs! You should be rejoicing, Colonel! The enemy is broken and in disarray. We have achieved a great victory for the goddess.”

The Colonel waved a hoof, “Look around you Bale, what do you notice about the field, specifically the corpses of the Celestians?”

Bale narrowed his eyes, scanning the terrible remnants from the earlier carnage, “The majority of their casualties were in the centre of their lines”, he held out a hoof, “You can see it quite clearly, but it was all a part of our plan, or rather, yours.”

The Colonel shook his mane, “So…?”

Bale frowned, “I don’t understand…”

“The two divisions, the forces that flanked the centre, they were the ones I was most aware of, Bale” The Colonel swept his gaze along the site of the fiercest fighting and sat down on his haunches, “They left the field in good order, despite their casualties.”

“You think we’re being played?” The younger officer asked in surprise, “You believe they would sacrifice their own young ones just to lure us into a position that favours them?”

Shaking his head, the Colonel gave a half smile, “No. From what we know of Celestians, I don’t believe their commander would do such a thing. Their initial formation speaks of some strategy, not one I would have chosen, true, but there is some mind behind this…or minds.” He scratched his chin, “Whatever it is Bale, whatever game these Celestians are playing, nobody says we have to play by their rules.”

The purple coated warrior smiled, “Your orders, Sir?”

“We wait until our warriors are reformed, watered, and then…”

A griffin landed beside them in a blast of wind and feathers, interrupting him. The odd hybrid creature bobbed its head, “Colonel”

Fulminata returned the gesture, “Report”

“The enemy are massing above a hill to the south.” The griffin explained in its high pitched voice, “It’s as we feared sir, the royal guard have arrived.”

“Pah!” Bale snorted, “The ‘elite’ warriors of this land of weaklings. I don’t think we have too much to fear from them.”

“Maybe…maybe” The Colonel said thoughtfully, “but I don’t intend to throw our troops into a trap.”

“A trap?”

The Colonels’ brow drew down, “It stinks of one.”

Horns blew, sounding their plaintive moan across the valley. Most of the troops were already massed and ready, their banners held proudly above their heads. The Colonel couldn’t help but notice how much smaller their numbers were compared to when they had first started out on this campaign. Irrespective of Bale’s optimistic appraisal of their chances for success, the Celestians had not given ground willingly. The number of dead and wounded were clear testament to that. From high above, a high pitched scream rent the air, immediately drawing the Colonels attention. Following the direction the sound had come from he set off at a trot; Bray and the other officers following close behind. Not far ahead of them, a small throng of minotaurs quickly came into view. They were stood in loose circle, roaring and baying at something, or someone, and whoever it was…

“Colonel…” Bale held out a foreleg, “Sir…don’t interfere, our soldiers deserve…”

The Colonel glowered at him, his yellow eyes flaring angrily; he didn’t need to speak. Bale’s mouth snapped shut and he bowed his head submissively, backing away a step from his superior. Fulminata snorted a blast of smoke, adjusted his sword and axe and walked up to the throng. His eye twitched involuntarily at the loud panting and desperate shrieks emanating from beyond the mass of muscled and armoured creatures as he shoved his way through, barging the huge creatures aside. Gradually, one by one, the monstrous warriors reluctantly moved back, their small round eyes staring out at him from bull like faces. The veteran thestral officer stared at the scene before him and closed his eyes. He’d seen this before, he knew it could happen, but in the Withers, his home, no thestral would do this…

A straw coloured pony lay on the ground, held down by two of the hulking creatures. She was bloodied and bruised, her armour, torn from her, lay in a heap nearby. It was all too clear from the way a third minotaur was holding himself, that she had delivered a particularly accurate kick to her assailants more tender anatomy. She was strong, he could see it in her eyes, but against such odds it was only a matter of time before sheer numbers and brutality won out. Another minotaur was already moving forward, much to the delight of the eager onlookers, and roughly shoved his injured colleague aside to access his prize. The minotaur leaned down and reached for the mare’s hind legs…

She squeezed her eyes shut, anticipating the worst, but…nothing happened. Opening one eye to peer up, the mare’s eyes went wide in shock as the towering minotaur’s grin froze on its face, the creatures’ head slowly, silently, sliding from its neck to drop with a dull wet thud between her legs. She stifled a scream.

Colonel Fulminata kicked the lifeless corpse aside and rounded on the minotaur commander, “Meld, get your bastards back into line, there’s work to do.”

The largest of the minotaurs glared at the Colonel and snorted angrily, “You spoil our fun.”

“You can have all the fun you like, Meld” Fulminata replied levelly, “but not like this. There are plenty of whores back with the baggage train to slake your more ‘primitive’ desires.”

“But, pony…”

The Colonel flicked the blood from his sword, “-Do you wish to speak to the goddess about this? These are still her people, the ones whom she shall be ruling once this war is over. You know her commands as well as I, you know her orders, and yet you allowed your warriors to act like” he gritted his teeth, his eyes flaring, “…like animals.” Fulminata held up a hoof invitingly, his burning yellow gaze never leaving the immense bull like creatures’ eyes, “If you prefer, I can speak to her for you…?”

The minotaur looked down at the ground for a moment, then grunted at the two holding the mare down, “What about her?”

“She goes with the rest of the prisoners” The Colonel announced, ramming his sword back into its scabbard, “She will have her chance like the rest.”

The mare was quickly back on her hooves, her tear filled scarlet eyes staring abject hatred at her captors. The Colonel watched her for a moment before staring past her shoulder toward the distant forest,

“Gather your warriors, Meld. I have a task for them that will suit their particular talents…perfectly”

Horns sounded across the field as warriors, already tired from battle, moved into formation with a precision born of endless repetition. For some however, there had been little time for training and even less for being fitting out with decent equipment. Wing Leader Bale watched the ragtag formation with a blank expression as they were pushed and prodded into place until they at least resembled something approaching a fighting force. He shook his head, “Ponies…”

The Colonel closed his eyes for a moment, a sardonic smile playing across his face, “Yes, Ponies.”

Bale hefted his axe, and snorted out a blast of smoke before stretching his wings out, “I suppose they have their uses.”

“Oh, they do Wing Leader, you can be assured of that.” Fulminata replied casually.

“What as, sacrificial lambs?” Bale barked out a laugh, “They won’t stand a chance”

“We’ll see” Fulminata said quietly. He gazed back up the hill to where the young mare had been led to be ‘processed’, “There is an expression here in Equestria, Bale: ‘Separating the wheat from the chaff’. That is what I intend to do with these…ponies. Those who stand, those who fight, they will be the wheat. The chaff…” He trailed off. No more needed to be said. The weak died, the strong lived. That was the order of things, the way of life. He shook his wings out and flicked his tail, an old habit he’d picked up and one that his subordinates had come to recognise when their commander was ready to make his move, “Time to move out I think, Bale. We don’t want to keep our guests waiting.”

Bale nodded, summoning the army signallers, “Your orders, Colonel?”

The older warrior’s eyes glowed in the dark of the goddess’s night. War was upon them, the thrill of battle, the song of death thrumming through the air. Despite his age, he still felt it keenly, as all thestrals did, but they were so few now…so, so few. He nodded, lashing his tail from side to side, “Send in Meld’s minotaurs and the Equestrian division,” He tapped on the various illustrated features on the map for the other officers to see, indicating the forest ahead of them, “Dunn’s division are to remain here to protect the artillery. Wing Leader, keep your warriors aloft and alert for any sudden enemy incursions.”

Bale leaned forward, his voice lowered so only the Colonel could hear, “What about the goddess, will she be with us?”

The Colonel grinned, raising an eyebrow, “She’s always with us, Bale. If not in person, she’s within each and every one of us.”

Bale smiled, “If you’ll excuse me then…”

Fulminata returned the salute, hoofing the map back to his aide. Whoever his counterpart was, they thought ahead, made contingency plans; whether they were clever or just lucky, remained to be seen. He closed his eyes and stretched out the muscles in his legs and neck. His armour felt a lot heavier these days, and camping in the field sent aches through his joints that he couldn’t ever recall having there before. If only he were twenty years younger…

“Edge?”

“Yes, Colonel?” The black coated aide trotted over.

Fulminata kept his voice low, “Anything?”

His aide-de-camp shook his head, “Sorry Colonel.”

Damn it all, where was he? He’d fought alongside Thorn from the beginning, and now he was beginning to curse that reckless decision to send him after the Celestian princess. Perhaps…perhaps the goddess was right and Thorn was dead. Fulminata squeezed his eyes shut a moment and rammed the thoughts back into the depths of his mind. Now wasn’t the time for guessing. If Thorn were dead, he would mourn him as he would mourn all their fallen. They would sing the song and send them to the next world as homecoming warriors, but that was for later. Here, now, he had to keep his mind clear and alert. Reaching out for his canteen, the Colonel watched the two divisions disappear into the forest, “Do we know anything about the enemy commander?”

His aide shook his head, “Not really, sir. I understand that the army was being lead by one of the Celestian lords”.

“Not Celestia herself?”

“Apparently not” Edge shrugged, “It would appear she has that in common with her divine majesty.”

The Colonel clucked his tongue, “I’d be careful who you say that to, Edge. Comparing the goddess with…”

“Forgive me, sir. I meant no disrespect.”

“No…no I know you didn’t, Edge.” Fulminata scanned the forest’s edge, “Will our scaled ‘friends’ be joining us, today?”

The young thestral shook his head, “No sign of them since the battle began, sir. I believe they may be wary about further engagement after the elder was wounded in her fight with the Celestian princess.”

“Wary?” Fulminata spat on the ground angrily, “The enemy have no dragons of their own, no ‘magical princess’ to protect them, and when we need air cover the bloody things are too frightened to fight?”

Edge said nothing, hanging his head in embarrassment. The Colonel despised dragons passionately and with good reason. The years since his family had fled the mountains had meant nothing to him, but he still carried the scars of that time both mentally and physically to this very day. It was Edge’s honour to act as aide to such a warrior, to serve him, and the goddess, even if it meant never being able to engage in battle as his forebears had. To be near the Colonel was like watching history unfolding and as small a part as he could play in this story, it would be a story he would be able to regale his foals with some day.

**************************

Dray scanned the sky, watching, waiting for…

“There!”

A red flare, bright against the darkening sky; the enemy had arrived.

“Signaller!”

A blue coated unicorn snapped to attention beside him, “Sir!”

“Send the signal, boy.”

“Yes, sir.”

The green glow of magic began to gather around the pony’s horn, and with a slight grunt, he sent a pulse of bright green light high into the sky. A moment later, the glowing ball of energy burst like a gargantuan firework. The Celestian Colonel smiled, “Impressive…”

“That opens the ball, Dray.” Wild said watching the light gradually fading away, “Let’s hope our guests appreciate all attention they’ll be receiving.”

Dray smiled, “We’ll know soon enough, Heather. Here they come.”

High above the forest pegasi swooped low, skimming over the tree tops. Dray watched them through his telescope, nodding to himself quietly. He’d been concerned that the enemy didn’t appear to have any fliers, nor, he was secretly relieved to note, any dragons. Had they sensed something? Somehow found out about his plans? And yet, their land forces had been moved up. But how many? Damn it, with the forest it was impossible to tell.

The first of the fire pots began to fall.

“This is your plan then Dray?” Spoon asked, walking up beside the Colonel, “Bomb them whilst they’re in the forest?” She snorted, “I’ll confess I thought you’d conjure up something a little more ‘elaborate’.”

Dray smiled at her, “Disappointed?”

“A little…” Spoon smiled.

Small plumes of smoke soon began to rise from the forest either side of the road, slowly at first, but then the grey clouds quickly changed to a billowing thick black…and they were spreading. From inside the dense ancient forest, chilling cries and shouts began to be heard, together with the dull thump of…explosions?

Major Wild stared in horrified fascination, “My goddesses, Dray. The whole forest is…” She swallowed, “What did you do?”

Dray waved his hoof nonchalantly, “Oh, A little something cooked up by our alchemists back at the castle. It’s a fascinating blend of pitch, pine tar and other ‘secret ingredients’ which I had some of our younger recruits apply to the trees…lots and lots of trees.”

“When the hell did you cook up that plan?” Spoon said, rounding on him, “They were supposed to be your reserve line!”

Dray’s expression soured, “And there’d be a whole lot more corpses on the field by now if I’d thrown them in.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head sadly, “You didn’t see them, Golden. They couldn’t fight, most of them were little more than foals. So, I put them to a more practical, if a little ‘sticky’ use.”

Across the field before them, the forest was beginning to radiate an ever increasing amount of heat. Thick black smoke rising up through the tops of the trees was followed by gouts of flame and glowing embers. The worst of it however, were the shrieks and howls from the forests depths. Those sounds would have unsettled many, the cries of those caught in the already dark interior, now choked with smoke and fire, were enough to unsettle the bravest heart, yet to Dray it was the sound of hope; hope for Equestria, for their people. If they could grind their enemy down, or at least slow them, it would give them the breathing room they needed to come up with a more tangible and effective strategy. Once certain ‘obstacles’ had been removed of course.

Overhead, thunder rumbled across the plain sending shudders through Dray’s legs and chest. Wordlessly he drew his sword, holding it aloft. Without a need for further orders, the rest of the Celestian army readied their own weapons. The creak of harness, of steel being drawn from scabbards and gripped in iron shod hooves, the quiet whisper of arrows being nocked…Dray shuddered. As much as he hated to admit it, there was an excitement in the air, a thrill of expectation despite their earlier ‘embarrassment’. From the unseen fiery depths of the forest, the screams and howls of the creatures burning alive was beyond terrifying, beyond horror, but to the veteran warrior it was…retribution.

Major Wild looked up and down her swords blade, examining it with an intense scrutiny that made Dray smile when he saw her. She clucked her tongue and began to pick at a nick with her hoof. It was an old sword, her fathers, and his fathers before him. Now, as the eldest, it had been passed to her and she’d already managed to damage the blade. Of course it would probably polish out, but it still troubled her that a valuable family heirloom had been damaged whilst in her care. Still, it was a good sword, and by the looks of things, it was likely to be put to the test once again. “What are you smirking at?” She asked Dray irritably.

“Nothing” The Colonel replied, “Nothing at all.”

Pulling at her shoulder plate, Wild shifted her weight onto her hind legs and turned back to watch the forest’s edge. She could feel the tension in the air now, the electrifying anticipation of battle. The army was formed and ready. There was little more to do now than wait for the inevitable feast of killing to begin once again. Beside her, Dray neighed loudly; the first of the forces of the moon, those who would see the end of the reign of their beloved princess, had arrived.

Chapter Three - In an Azure Sea

CHAPTER THREE

IN AN AZURE SEA

Chalk Dust lay in the corner of the enclosure trying to make sense of what had happened to him. The world had changed from the light hearted banter of the barracks back at the royal castle, to a raging maelstrom of magical fire, smoke and death. He’d been fighting, sending magical energy bolts up into the sky to try and bring down the enemy fliers, but then those ‘things’ had appeared. Trailing plumes of white cloud and screaming their otherworldly battle cries, the demonic apparitions had descended upon them like avenging spirits. The mere sight of such beings had been heart stopping and all too much for some of Chalk’s comrades who’d panicked and tried to flee, only to be cut down by…goddess forgive them, their own comrades.

Their orders had been absolute…’hold the line’. He shuddered; there hadn’t exactly been much choice really had there? Run and die, stand and, well, maybe die. Lightly armoured as many of the unicorns had been, he’d relied upon the magic shields of the front rank to protect them from the incoming projectiles, magic and the goddesses knew what else. A line of infantry had been posted to their front to protect them from direct attack by enemy ground forces: young warriors, fresh faced and keen. Also, as they found out all too quickly, hopelessly inadequate.

The first attack by Nightmare Moon’s army had been surprisingly less intense than he’d expected, with the Legion’s attack spread out along the whole line of battle. He’d even begun to believe it would all be over by midday and they’d be back at the barracks sharing drinks and stories of their exploits. Foolishness. The enemy hadn’t been anywhere near as uncoordinated and inept as they’d been led to believe by their officers. Far from it. They’d simply been biding their time, waiting for the right opportunity, and then, inevitably, it came.

From where he’d stood it had been hard to see much more than the ponies around him. Little room had been provided for movement and the press of so many had been bordering on claustrophobic. Chalk was mostly troubled by the fact he was surrounded by, essentially, strangers. As a unicorn he’d been banded with others with similar magical abilities and the last he’d seen of his foalhood friend had been the night before the fighting had begun. It had been nigh on impossible to find him, let alone speak to him. The numbers of ponies in the various camps was simply staggering. Still, at least they’d managed to share a drink together before…before what? One minute he’d been stood there, concentrating on trying to shoot magical bolts at the enemy, when suddenly the soldiers who had been assigned to defend them had simply vanished. Moments after somepony realised their front rank had turned tail, those white things bore down on them, raking the ground with intense blue fire that turned those around him into horrific frozen statues of glittering ice. One after another, row after row…it had simply been too much. With their front exposed, under a merciless assault from above, the final hammer blow fell with deadly effect.

Minotaurs.

There were hundreds of them, maybe more, and they slammed into their line like hot steel through ice: slicing, hacking, chopping down the fleeing unicorn’s like wheat beneath the reapers scythe. It had been over in seconds. He’d tried to run, to flee back to the forest, but he tripped, striking his head, and then…

Chalk closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to stand. Almost immediately, somepony slammed into him, knocking him into the corner of the fenced enclosure,

“Watch where you’re standing, fool!”

Chalk opened his eyes painfully. The yellow coated stallion standing over him was little more than a blurry outline in the kaleidoscope of colours swirling around his vision. Goddess damn it, his head was ringing like a bell! He had to try and stand, to recover his bearings somehow, along with his wits. The yellow stallion pushed him roughly in the chest with his hoof,

“I said, watch where you’re standing! Are you deaf?”

A voice from behind him spoke up, female by the sounds of it, “Leave him alone for the goddess’s sake. Aren’t things bad enough without turning on our own too?”

The yellow stallion turned away, “Shut your stinking mouth! If your lousy kind had done their job properly, we wouldn’t be in this mess at all.”

“Our lousy kind?” Another voice retorted angrily, “You braggarts were so full of blood and thunder last night weren’t you? You were ready to take on the world! Yet today, when we needed you, where were you? I’ll tell you where; running for the bloody hills! At the first sniff of the enemy ‘your kind’ broke and ran like whipped dogs!”

“Why you…!”

A gruff voice, heavy and full of barely hidden menace, cut through the rising crescendo of bickering and arguing, “Be quiet, all of you, I’m trying to sleep.”

The first pony’s sneering voice came back, full of derision, “Oh, keeping you up are we, hero? What did you do today? Pissed yourself with fear, did you?”

Silence fell. Chalk’s eyesight was finally starting to clear, the colours and shapes reforming into recognisable forms, but his legs…He winced. By the goddesses, they were still aching horribly, making his stomach feel even more unsettled than it already was. Leaning against the fence, he tried to push himself up, but a slender mint green leg pushed him down. Confused, he stared up into a pair of deep purple eyes, and the mare who was shaking her head slowly at him. He paused, settling himself back down.

“The real hero’s are the one’s lying on the ground down there.” The gruff voice rumbled ominously, “All I see is a coward who turns on his own people to make himself feel as if he has some control left over his fate.”

The yellow stallion was indignant. All but vibrating with rage, his voice became a near shriek, “You piece of dung! How dare you speak to me like that! Do you know who I am?”

“I don’t give a damn who you are,” the rough voice replied, “but I can tell you what you are: you’re a prisoner, like the rest of us, so just shut your mouth and at least try to show some dignity.”

“You’ve no idea who…”

“You, come with us” A thestral appeared in the open gateway, flanked by two griffins carrying wickedly curved swords. The heavily armoured creature nodded towards the yellow pony and in moments, the wide eyed stallion was quickly and efficiently collected by his captors who shepherded him back out the way they had entered. The gate closed behind them with a horrible finality.

Nopony moved, the sounds of their breathing seeming to drown out all other noise around them. A strong sense of fear began to permeate the enclosure, the ponies within shifting nervously and looking at one another as if expecting somepony to simply offer a solution, an explanation…a glimmer of hope.

Pulling his legs under himself and shifting his weight, Chalk Dust managed to haul himself to his hooves, using the fence as a prop until he was standing upright. Nopony spoke. The silence in the enclosure was starting to feel so oppressive that he began to wonder if he should have stayed down on the ground. Goddesses, how his head hurt! Holding a hoof up to it, he was relieved to find no blood, but the pain was like an ice pick through his skull.

“Nasty crack you took friend. Hold still, I’ll take a look.” A pale blue stallion pushed through the massed ponies and peered down at him with large pink eyes, “Hmmm. Possible concussion, lacerations, some grazing and bruising, but you’re otherwise…” The pony was interrupted by a gout of vomit as Chalk’s stomach lurched, emptying its contents violently. Jumping back, the blue pony raised an eyebrow, “And there may be some nausea.” He called over his shoulder, “Somepony get him some water.”

“Get it yourself!” A voice shouted back.

There was the sound of shuffling, pushing, and then the gruff voice from earlier was back, “Here you go, Doc. How is he?”

“He’ll be fine.” The blue one replied, passing the bowl of water to Chalk.

A cherry red mare pushed forward, “For now”. Her bloodshot eyes were puffy and swollen, “It would have been better if you’d left him. He could at least have died in peace.”

“Always the optimist, eh, Gretel?” The brown stallion rumbled back to her.

“Just being realistic, Stock” She replied sourly, “I don’t think any of us are exactly expecting to be met with tea and biscuits up there.”

Chalk gulped down the water gratefully, wiping the last few drops from his muzzle. He looked up at the mare inquisitively, “Up where?”

The red mare, Gretel, bobbed her head in the direction she was looking, “See that tent?”

Chalk nodded, “Aye”

“You go in, stay a while and when you come out, sometimes you go to the left, sometimes to the right.” The red mare looked away, her eyes distant, “Either way, they never come back here.”

A stallion behind them began to weep quietly, “We’re going to die…all of us” he sank to his haunches and held his face in his muddy hooves, “I’ll never see my family again…never”

One of the older mares reached a foreleg around him, and gave him a nuzzle, “You’ll see them again son of Equestria. Maybe not in this world, but I promise you, you shall be together again. We all go to the herd someday; today, tomorrow, years from now, it doesn’t matter. Our lives are fleeting things, passing from dawn to dusk in the blink of an eye. And it is well too, for who would want to be held from the promise of the eternal herd for long?” She looked down into his welling eyes, smiling, “Don’t let fear rule your heart my little one. What matters is that you did your best, that your heart is true, for the wonderful open plains and lush grass of the land of the eternal herd awaits you. There you’ll meet the ones you love once more, and be together forever under the blue skies and warm sun of the gods.”

“What a load of bollocks” somepony called out, “You don’t seriously believe that crap, do you?”

The mare kissed the frightened younger stallion on his head before replying, “I do. The gods created this world for you, for all of us, with the promise of a life of peace and joy in the next. The princess has told us this, and I place my trust in her.”

“Trust her?” A silver-grey stallion pushed past the milling equines to come face to face with the older mare, “She took us to war! My brother was cut down in front of me, my friends turned to lumps of ice by those flying monsters, and for what? This?!” He stomped a hoof, “You think she’s a goddess? Immortal? Then tell me, where is she now? Wouldn’t she come and save us if she really was this wonderful divine being you make her out to be?”

The violet coated mare shook her charcoal mane and smiled at him. Her piercing pale blue eyes fixed him with their otherworldly gaze, making him back up in alarm, “I didn’t say she was a goddess, son of Equestria.”

The male backed up, his mouth hanging open for a moment before shaking his head, “Then…” he swallowed, “Then how can we believe anything she tells us? If she’s not a goddess, then how can she know?”

“Does it really matter?” The mare said quietly, “Whether you believe it or not, none of us are immortal, all of us die. Wouldn’t you rather have faith that there is something better beyond this world? That there is some hope for a better life?” She held up a hoof and placed it on the stallion’s shoulder, “Wouldn’t you want to live in a world where you could meet your brother, to run with him across green hills and through the golden fields? No cares, no fear, no pain…it awaits you, son of Equestria” she turned to face the others, “It awaits every pony.”

A young mare, little more than a filly, nudged her, “I’m so frightened! I…I don’t want to die…”

“Shhh, don’t cry daughter,” The violet mare smiled gently, stroking her mane, “The gods are with you, they see the light in your heart and wait happily to welcome you home” She looked around at the ponies watching her, “We’re all going home.”

Chalk rubbed his ear, turning away to peer up at the tent. He wasn’t sure about gods, goddesses, and all which that meant. His father had disappeared when he was a foal, leaving his mother to raise him alone. Where were these gods and goddesses then? When those foals had…

His eyes locked onto something, some…pony. That couldn’t be, could it? He stood up on his hind legs, leaning his forehooves on the fence to try and get a better look, “Bracken?” Was that him? There weren’t many ponies with his friends colouring around and he tended to stick out like a sore hoof, but that wasn’t to say there weren’t others who looked like him. In moments though, the stallion was gone, lead away by one of the thestral creatures, off to the right of that large tent.

The blue stallion beside him tapped him with a hoof, “You okay?”

“Hmm?” Chalk jumped back down, “Oh, yeah, I just thought I saw somepony I knew that’s all.”

The unicorn stallion, ‘Doc’, raised an eyebrow, “Well, if it’s your friend, at least he’s not stuck in here with us.”

“Isn’t there some way we can get out of here?” Chalk asked, staring at the gate, “There’s not that many guards, couldn’t we…”

“-Have you tried your magic?” Doc interrupted, “Go ahead, give it a try.”

Reaching for the familiar power, Chalk concentrated on releasing a small amount of magic. Not much, just the tiniest sliver, enough to…

“Ow! Bloody hell!”

Doc shrugged, “See?”

“For Celestia’s sake, Doc, what are you trying to do to him? Couldn’t you have just warned him instead?” Gretel hissed, rubbing Chalk’s neck, “You okay?”

“No!” Chalk groaned, “Magically shielded?”

“Yup” Doc took a mouthful of water, “Unless you’re part mole, or can buck that gate open, we’re stuck here.”

“This doesn’t make sense” Chalk took a pull on the water bowl. Clearing his throat, he looked into the blue stallions eyes, “We’re not officers, so what the hell good would interrogating us do them?”

Doc shrugged, “Buggered if I know, I just patch up wounded heroes like you.”

“Nopony knows”, Gretel sighed sinking to her haunches beside him, “You know as much as we do about that tent.” She yawned, stretching out a crick in her neck, “Regardless, sooner or later, they’ll come for all of us.”

So this was it, was it? Hemmed into a pen with strangers, only to be dragged off to the goddess knew where and…Chalk closed his eyes and tried to think of something else. He was still so young, he’d never even had a marefriend, never even…

“Hey, what’s your name?”

He looked up into the maroon eyes of the cherry red mare. She was a little older than him, fairly heavy set with a mid length yellow mane, the colour of the sun. He’d never had much to do with mares, especially since school, and the army wasn’t exactly the place to ‘meet your special somepony’. His colouring tended to put anypony off from speaking to him in any case, and the way this one was looking at him was…

“Did that bash on the head addle your brain?” she said bopping him on the muzzle, “I asked what your name is”

Chalk opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. The cherry mare was so close, frighteningly close! “Ch..Chalk Dust!” He squeaked trying to back away.

The mare laughed, “Well, you probably heard already, but I’m Gretel. This miserable bugger here is Stock, and the blue sawbones who nearly gave you brain damage is Doc.” She indicated the two earth ponies sitting nearby, each in turn giving him a nod. Chalk smiled nervously,

“Um…Hi.”

Gretel peered into his eyes, “You have very green eyes, Chalky, I like that. Oh, do you mind if I call you Chalky?”

“Uh, no…not really. My friends call me that anyway.” He stammered.

The mare giggled, “Good! Now then, how about we work out a way to get the hell out of here?”

*******************

Dust motes drifted lazily through the tiny beams of light in the warm, musty air of the tent. Bracken sat on the edge of the camp bed, feeling his legs; they were all still there thank Celestia…or…He blinked and stared down at his forehoof, the place where she’d touched him. Had he dreamed it all? The princess of the night, Nightmare Moon, the traitorous sister of their beloved Celestia who had betrayed them and become a, a…monster? He gave his mane a shake, trying to clear his mind and ran his hooves over his skin. It was all still intact too, or rather, was intact now. He’d been in a mess, near death, and now he was here in a tent in what was most likely Nightmare Moon’s camp. What in Equestria was going on here? Why was he still alive? As if in answer to his question, a slim pony entered the tent, a tray of drinks and a bowl of what looked like cherries balanced on her back. She was incredibly thin, bony almost, and covered in a white knee length tabard. The mare’s wings bulged slightly beneath the lightly embroidered cloth, and she kept her burning red eyes downcast.

“Excuse me…” Bracken said, but the creature didn’t reply. Deftly, she took the tray from her back and placed it next to him, removed the old one, and walked out. The confused stallion scratched his head, watching the strange creature leave as silently as she had arrived. She was no pony, he realised, but a thestral. Great goddesses, how had he mistaken her for one? These strange, alien things that had invaded their lands, killed their people, and yet they seemed somehow strangely familiar too.

The tent flap moved slightly, accompanied by the clang of weapons being brought to another position. ‘Guards’ Bracken thought to himself, quickly dismissing any thoughts of a quick trip outside and slipping away.

A now strangely familiar face appeared in the shaft of light spilling into the tent. The midnight coated mare, the goddess of the Legion and the princess of the night, entered, Her mane and tail flowed behind her like living smoke, sparkling with the twinkling light of countless stars, but it was her eyes that drew Bracken’s gaze the most; those almost reptilian pupils set in a mesmerising sea of pure azure. The mare’s exotic smile made his heart jump,

“I told you about naughty thoughts, Bracken.” She chuckled, “Now, how are you feeling?”

This bizarre situation was way beyond anything he could possibly conjure up in his own mind. Maybe he was still injured, lying sick on the battlefield, his brain concocting an illusory world that…

“Your temperature has come down at least, that’s good.” she purred.

A warm forehead pushed against Bracken’s. Those eyes, deep as the oceans depths, locked with his. He gasped and pulled away,

“Ma…”

Nightmare Moon raised an eyebrow, “’Ma’?”

Bracken shook his head, trying to gather his wits, “Majesty”, he stammered, “I…”

His lips moved, but his throat was so dry that the words died in his mouth. The dark mare smiled gently and levitated the bowl of cherries to him with a brief glow of her magic,

“Here”, she said quietly, “try one, they’re good.”

Bracken shook his head, “No! I mean, your majesty, forgive me, I…”

Lifting one of the fruits in the purple glow of her magic, the mare carefully floated one towards her mouth, holding it firmly between her lips. Bracken stared at it, his mind focussing on the succulent looking morsel. He licked his lips, his mouth beginning to salivate in anticipation. Moaning slightly, the princess leaned forward, reaching out with her forelegs and pulled him towards her. Bracken gasped, willing himself to pull away, to escape, and yet his body reacted almost automatically. It was her scent, her eyes, she was so close…

The mare’s lips met his, pushing the berry into Bracken’s mouth with a shocking mixture of tart juice and feminine breath. He felt like he was one fire, his fur tingling and his hooves itching. Oh goddesses! She hadn’t poisoned him, had she? He tried to speak, but a silvery metal shod hoof tapped him on the nose playfully,

“Shhh, no talking now.” Nightmare Moon said seductively, “there’s plenty more where that came from.”

Closing his eyes in resignation, Bracken lost all sense of time, all awareness of where he was, and even…his own self. The sweet taste of the fruit, the tingling sensation it sent running throughout his body, it all felt so natural, like he was one with both it and the world. And somewhere, far away and yet still so close he could feel her body heat against his skin, Bracken could sense that terrifyingly beautiful presence watching him. His heart was racing now, his body reacting all on its own. Bracken reached out, taking the mare in his embrace, pulling her towards him…

“Playing with your food again, princess?”

Bracken’s eyes flicked open in surprise, Nightmare Moon’s disappointed face mere inches from his. She pulled away from him, shaking her head slightly, a look of disappointment flashing across her features before she turned to face the newcomer,

“Do they not have doors in your home, Lord Maroc?”

“Oh, yes.” The pony replied in a somewhat sarcastic tone, “But mine tend to be made of, shall we say, more ‘solid’ materials?”

The princess clucked her tongue and walked casually over to the doorway, “Sarcasm never was your strong point.”

“Nor humour yours, ‘your majesty’” The grey stallion raised an eyebrow and gave Nightmare Moon a heavily exaggerated bow. Bracken cringed, expecting at any moment a blast of magic to incinerate the overly familiar pony. Instead…she smiled,

“Anypony else, Maroc, anypony else.”

“I know” the stallion smirked, tossing his mane roguishly, “You’d have me in chains.”

The princess barked a laugh, “I’d have your head!”

“And who could blame you!” Maroc grinned, “I mean, who else do you have under your illustrious command with such rugged good looks?”

Nightmare Moon’s eyes glittered as she leaned close to the newcomer, her wings ruffling as if in some unseen breeze, “Don’t tease me, Maroc, you know what I want.” She lifted a hoof, reaching out to touch him and paused. Suddenly, she turned away, her voice little more than a whisper, “And you know what you can have…my lord.”

Maroc gave a snort, “Luna, I…”

“Don’t call me that here!” The mare snapped back, “I am Nightmare Moon, your goddess! You will show me respect and fealty as is befitting of one such as yourself!”

“Forgive me, your divinity” Maroc bowed low, his manner suddenly changed to one of submission, yet Bracken could still see that tinge of confident arrogance about the fellow. The grey stallion’s voice was level but respectful, “I have come to give your divinity a message.”

Nightmare Moon kept her back turned, her face hidden in the gloom of the tent,

“Well?”

“Lady Arathea is to give birth soon, to my son.”

Nightmare Moon’s horn flared with magic, her voice dropping menacingly,

“And…and you have come to tell me this…why?”

Maroc stood up tall and straight, every word clear and precise, “I am returning home for the birth.”

“You…!” In a flurry of black wings, the princess span to face the grey stallion, her mane and tail swirling around her in an astral fury. Nightmare Moon’s eyes narrowed, the glow of magic emanating from them as bright as her voice was deafening in the confines of the tent, “You are abandoning your post?” She bellowed, “You are abandoning ME?”

Maroc didn’t flinch, “I will welcome my son to the tribe of the four winds as is our custom, your divinity. When he has been anointed, I will return.”

The princess slammed her hoof down and threw the chalice of wine across the room with unbridled fury. Bedding, cushions, and all other unfastened items were suddenly and violently picked up and hurled around in a raging storm of magical energy. Bracken covered his face with his hooves in fright as the princess’s voice boomed out around him making his ears quiver with its power,

“LEAVE ME!”

Maroc bowed, “By your divine guidance.”

A goblet flew at him, narrowly missing his muzzle,

“GET OUT! GET OUT NOW!”

Maroc knew not to try and dodge, but still, when she was in one of ‘those’ moods there was no reasoning with her. Outside, he grabbed his cloak and sword from the guard and drew quickly from the wellspring of power deep inside, calling the spirit’s magic to him, guiding it, tuning it. With a wince, his wings broke through the hide on his back, snapping out wide in the daylight; such as it was. Shaking out his bright blue mane, Maroc snorted out a blast of ice crystals from his nostrils. Arathea’s time was near, and he would be there for her as a husband should, goddess or no goddess. He sighed. It was time to go home.

A blast of frigid air blew into the tent, making the walls ripple and the temperature drop like a stone. Nightmare Moon stood tall, visibly shaking with rage, her mane billowing angrily around her as the interior of the tent blazed with the purple light of unleashed magic.

Bracken sat in silence, open mouthed, too frightened to speak or move. There was only one way in and one way out of that place, and that was past the black fury that was the princess. Slamming a hoof into the ground in frustration, Nightmare Moon sank to her haunches, closed her eyes and shuddered. Bracken had never seen a pony so angry, so emotional; should he do something? And yet, every part of him was screaming at him to run, to hide, or to back into a corner and simply try to disappear. But seeing her like that, full of pain, suffering…

Nightmare Moon opened her eyes in surprise, her magic winking out in an instant. A strange sensation rolled through her body, her fur tingling electrically at the feeling of being…touched? In amazement she tried to reach a hoof up to her head, only to find a black coated pony ‘hugging’ her…hugging her! The midnight mare’s heart, so long buried, as ice cold as the mountains of the frozen north…moved.

With a sudden pulse of light, Bracken was flung across the room, landing in a sprawling heap of legs on the floor. Trying to regain his composure, Bracken looked up into a pair of azure eyes and the sharp snarling face of the goddess of the forces of the night,

“How…How dare you!” She delivered a slap across his face with her hoof, “HOW DARE YOU!”

Despite the pain, regardless of how much his mind protested, Bracken gazed up at her as tears began to well in his eyes. The anger, the pain, the hate, emotions of every kind, radiated from the midnight mare like an open blast furnace. Heart thundering in his chest, Bracken felt a tingling wave, like tiny sparks of electricity, flood through him from his muzzle to his tail. The enemy of his people, the killer of ponies, the one who had turned against her own sister: she was here, before him now. But…why did his heart hurt so, to see her suffering like this?

The princess’s magic glowed briefly, the thrum of magic enveloping the room and then blinking out as if it had never existed. Bracken blinked away the tears, looking up into the deep azure eyes of his captor. It was so quiet now, so devoid of sound, that he could feel and hear his heart beating in his chest. He closed his eyes. Slowly, gently, he felt a pair of forelegs slip around him, the warm fur of the midnight mare pressing against his. He could feel her heart beat, smell her scent filling his nostrils. Carefully, he reached up and tentatively drew her into an embrace.

Together, without speaking, the two held one another in the darkness.

Chapter Five - Behind Midnight

CHAPTER FIVE

BEHIND MIDNIGHT

“Get your foul, rotten little hooves off me!”

Nightmare Moon’s horn glowed with the purple light of her magic, it’s aura effortlessly surrounding Bracken and flinging him away like a ragdoll, “You miserable stinking maggot, I should gut you and leave you screaming in a writhing heap of your own reeking intestines!” The midnight coated mare towered over him, her earlier demeanour vanished like morning dew. She slammed a silver shod hoof onto his neck, pinning him to the ground as she leaned down, her azure eyes filling Bracken’s vision. Her voice had dropped to a low menacing growl, so low it felt like the ground was vibrating in resonance, “If I want you to touch me, I will tell you, do you understand me?”

Bracken opened his mouth to speak but the princess’s hoof was pressing so hard on his windpipe he couldn’t breathe. Instead all he managed was a choking gasp.

“I said, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” the princess bellowed.

The black coated pony nodded, “Y...yes…ma…majesty.”

Nightmare Moon harrumphed, removing her hoof and turned back to the entrance,
“Pick yourself up, we’re leaving.”

Obediently, Bracken pulled himself to his hooves, his mind a fog of confusion. Every part of his being screamed at him to do something, anything, to just try and get away, and yet his sense of self preservation demanded he be obedient to this powerful creature. He was in the enemy encampment, unarmed, confused and, goddess forgive him, feeling as if being here with such a terrifying creature was the most natural thing in the world. Magicking her cloak around her shoulders, the princess strode out of the tent, the guards snapping to attention either side of her. Bracken followed her out obediently, daring to look up as the wind caught her mane, whipping the luxurious smoke like hair around her and adding an incredibly alien yet exotic air to the mare. As if sensing his gaze, Nightmare Moon glanced back at him and he lowered his gaze quickly. Smiling demurely, she walked on. Bracken quickened his pace to keep up.

Dusk was fast approaching, with the magically enchanted sky from earlier dissipating as the princess rested following her encounter with her sister. She looked tired, yet still bore a noble, if somewhat cold presence that had everypony nearby standing to attention or bowing respectfully. Bracken followed; quietly, obediently. Part of him hated himself for this, for so quickly becoming the lapdog of the enemy, her…pet. But…no! He could still escape! He could get away, slip out one night and head back towards his lines and leave this place. The first thing he’d do would be to find Chalky and…

Bracken’s breath caught in his throat, “Oh goddesses…”

They’d passed a large tent sat off to one side of the main camp. Behind it, a scene he could never have imagined in a thousand lifetimes. His stomach lurched and he had to quickly cover his mouth with his hoof. Dear goddesses, why…why would they do this? He tried not to see, he tried to look away from what he knew simply couldn’t be, and yet was all so terrifyingly real. His horrified gaze fell upon the block of wood, stained and gouged from use, the minotaur standing over it with a blood stained axe. Bracken sank to his haunches just as the pony’s head fell, dropping wetly onto the muddied ground. Staring in horror, he watched as another minotaur kicked the lifeless head over to a pile of others, then dragged the still warm corpse over to another pile…a pile of multicoloured pony corpses. Bracken’s eyes went wide. The cutie marks were still visible, even as they vanished down the gullets of the hungry dragons waiting impatiently for their meals. The foul scaled creatures bayed and snapped at each other, fighting for the right to be next to eat, and all the time, that smell…the smell of death, hung in the air like a miasma.

Bracken could feel tears slowly seeping down his muzzle,

“No…”

He shook his head. This couldn’t be real, it wasn’t happening, none it was! A fly landed on his face making him jump, and then his stomach emptied itself. Heaving and gagging, Bracken shook in shock and in horror. How could such a thing be happening?

“They are all given a chance.”

A black foreleg appeared before him, the silver shod hooves, so beautiful earlier, now made him feel nothing but anger, anger and a sense of…shame.

“What chance?” He coughed, “What?”

“To join me” the mare said quietly, “If they do not, then they cannot be allowed to go free. They would rejoin the army of my sister and fight us once again. I cannot take that chance.”

Bracken looked up into her large azure eyes, the light in them as radiant as the first moment he’d seen them, “Why princess? These are your people too. They loved you as much as they loved Celestia!”

Nightmare Moon spread her wings with an ear popping snap and dropped into a fighting stance, her teeth bared, “My people?! They would see me dead! Driven from my home by their obsession for their damnable, precious, ‘princess’ Celestia! They’ve placed her so high on her damned pedestal, they cannot see that they are living in naught but the shadow of that pretentious prig!” Nightmare Moon shook with indignation, “Do not seek to lecture me, pony. I am the princess of the night, I am the goddess of the moon, the nightmare that will bring in a new order to this sickening utopian folly that misguided fool has created. A lie cannot stand in the light of the truth and her kingdom will fall, I promise you that!” She nodded her head as if affirming something to herself, “Like a deck of cards in a thunder storm, her reign of lies will come crashing down and I will be there waiting when it does; to rebuild, to bring hope back to those who had none.” Nightmare Moon shook her smoky mane and gave a low laugh, “I shall usher in a new future, and bring in true justice…for all.”

Involuntarily, Bracken’s eyes locked with those of the princess. A maelstrom of emotions raged through him befuddling his mind and riveting his hooves to the ground. The midnight apparition before him, the goddess of the forces of the night, terrified and intrigued him in equal measure. Was this still Luna? His mother had worshipped her and even had a small shrine to her in the hallway, but this was Nightmare Moon, Luna was…gone? He shook himself free of his fear, desperately trying not to look at the killing ground nearby. Maybe he could convince her to stop, to listen to reason. But he was just a pony, just a simple lad from a nowhere village; a bloody stupid foal who’d run off to join the army because it would be ‘fun’. Bracken shook his mane angrily. What an idiot he’d been! He’d even dragged poor Chalky into his ill conceived endeavours. His mind wandered back to the image of his friend. Where was he? Was he back with the remnants of the army, or…

He blinked. The light had suddenly changed from the relative brightness of outside to the dark interior of a tent. Here, inside the cloth covered bubble, he felt oddly safe, safe from the stomach churning reality not far beyond its insubstantial walls. Bracken waited respectfully as Nightmare Moon took off her helmet and armour, dropping them unconcernedly on the floor before collapsing onto her chaise longue and burying her face in the numerous pillows. Letting out a groan, she stretched her wings out behind her and sighed loudly,

“Bracken, attend to me.”

Obediently, the black pony walked over to the princess, bowing low, “Yes, your majesty?”

The princess snorted, “Majesty…” lifting her head slightly, she peered back at him, “The correct way to address me is ‘your divinity’ or ‘divine majesty’.” Nightmare Moon yawned, “I’d normally have you flogged for such impudence, but right now, I’m too tired to make the effort.”

Bracken swallowed. Flogged?

A light chuckle emanated from the princess; soft and lilting, “Do you see the box in the corner of the room?”

“Yes, your divinity” Bracken replied carefully.

“Bring it over here.”

The box in question was rather nondescript at first glance: a rosewood, brass bound casket with ivy leaves engraved into its sides and lid. Further inspection revealed the intricate individuality of each carved leaf, every swirl and turn. A high degree of craftsponyship had gone into it alright and it was something he would have been proud to have made for somepony. Bracken smiled, opened the box and marvelled at the smart ‘click’ as it popped open with the mere flick of his hoof. Inside, a variety of oils, brushes and combs sat neatly arranged awaiting use. He furrowed his brows. What in Equestria was he supposed to do with this lot?! He leaned down and took one of the brushes in his teeth trying to determine its purpose.

The princess gave a soft groan behind him, “Don’t you groom yourself at home?”

Bracken put the brush down and bowed, “I do, but I just have one brush, not…all these!” He nearly choked, quickly adding, “Your divine majesty…”

Nightmare Moon chuckled, watching him intently, “The curry comb is first…yes, the stiff one there, that’s it.”

Bracken lifted the wicked looking thing. The bristles were more akin to tiny metal spikes, looking for all the world like it belonged in some torture chamber, rather than a box of grooming supplies for a mare.

The goddess reached down and took off her silver hoof covers, dropping them onto the floor with a heavy thud. Bracken quickly tidied them to one side and nearly shrieked in surprise when a pair of hooves suddenly gripped his neck,

“Pay attention, Bracken, I’m going to instruct you on how to groom a mare.”

“Yes, your divine majesty” he gasped.

“Good boy.” Nightmare Moon sighed, shifting position on the long piece of furniture, “I believe you will do well. You are good with your hooves are you not?”

He was, or rather had been, “My…My father was a craftspony, your divinity, a maker of metalwares.”

“And you took after your father?” The princess’s eyes took in every detail, every movement. Bracken squeezed his eyes shut, dreading the mares reaction to his words,

“I helped him, in the workshop until…”

The princess’s voice was inquisitive, “-You joined the army?”

“Yes”

Nightmare Moon rested her head on her forelegs, gazing back at him, her eyes twinkling in the light from the flickering lamp beside her, “I know…I have seen your dreams, young Bracken.” She said slowly, “You could say, I know you better than you know yourself.”

For a moment, Bracken felt like his heart had stopped. His mouth went dry and his body locked up. How? How could she know him? She’d seen his dreams?

“Oh don’t look so surprised,” Nightmare Moon said clucking her tongue, “I am the princess of the dream world, or had you forgotten that like the rest of Equestria?”

Bracken looked down at his hooves, “I…No, I haven’t forgotten. Mother worshipped Lu…” He looked up suddenly, covering his mouth, “Sorry, your divinity, I…”

She held up a hoof, shaking her head slightly, “I am still who I am, my little black pony.” Nightmare Moon’s face took on an almost whimsical expression, “I am both Luna, and Nightmare Moon. We are two parts of the whole. Together we are stronger, altogether more powerful than that…” She sighed, “Never mind, it matters not.” A long midnight leg stretched out, tapping the curry comb, “Use that to remove any loose hair, but be careful not to use it on my legs or head, understand?”

“Yes, divinity.”

Nightmare Moon lay back down as Bracken approached and gingerly began to brush her, “A little firmer…that’s right”, she groaned, her muscles visibly beginning to relax, “I think you may have quite the hidden talent there, Bracken.” The princess sighed, closing her eyes, “If you become proficient I may even…” she let out a long tired breath, ”...reward you.”

***********************

Chalk sat huddled with the others, their conversations unheard. All he seemed capable of now was staring intently at the ground. There was a heavy oppressive atmosphere in here, not helped by the way the cold air fused with the smell and heat of so many ponies penned into such a small space. There was latrine of sorts though, if you could call a hole in the ground a latrine, but at least it was something. Water was provided too: a large barrel of fresh water, with drinking bowls and a ladle. For such uncompromisingly brutal warriors, there was something strangely noble about the thestrals, but whether this was due to them having ponies as allies or some other reason, he couldn’t say. The contradiction to this was the tent; the large, ominous, dark purple thing that sat there unmoving, solid, awaiting the next pony to walk in, then walk out. Right, or left…what did it mean? Whatever it did, it didn’t bode well; they never came back to the enclosure.

Nopony ever did.

Letting out a snort, Chalk snugged his hooves underneath himself subconsciously. Ever since foalhood, whenever he’d felt frightened, alone or hurt, he’d curl up as tightly as he could and imagine the world around him had simply disappeared, forgetting he ever existed. Mother would usually find him like that, hiding quietly, and take him into her loving embrace and hold him. She never spoke; she just held him, stroking his mane and would sing him an old tune to soothe his troubled heart. He missed her, he missed his home…goddesses, how he wanted to go home. It was all he could think of; not the war, not Nightmare Moon and her dreadful horde of creatures, just home, and the crackling logs of a warm fire, a hot cup of cocoa and a fleece rug for him to snuggle into. If he concentrated hard enough, he could smell the sweet chocolate drink, his mother’s perfume, the…

“Hoy! Somepony’s coming. Heads up you lot!”

The compound lock clanged and the gates were pulled noisily open. The ponies went silent as a straw coloured mare was pushed in at spear point. Behind her, as fast as the gate had been opened, it was shut again, the lock slamming back into place. The terrified mare backed up into the enclosure, her eyes wild with fright.

“Welcome to our little home”, Gretel said with a sarcastic bow, “You’re a little late for the party.” She took a step towards the newcomer who squeaked in fright, “I’m Gretel, what’s your name?”

“M…Mandarin Cream” the sand coated mare sputtered.

Gretel smiled, “Well, Mandy, I can’t offer you anything other than pond water and the crap they’ve been calling ‘food’ here, but you’re with friends now.”

The mare nodded, opening her mouth to speak, then slammed it shut hurriedly as a blast of trumpets caught everyponies attention. Gretel pushed past the others to reach the far end of the enclosure and peered down the slope toward the distant forest, “Looks like something’s going on, crew. Lot of smoke down there.”

Stock’s rumbling voice echoed out from the throng, “The forest’s on fire. Wouldn’t like to be in there.”

“Obviously” Doc replied, “Smoke’s a bit of a giveway.”

The large pony gave him a rye grin, “Really?”

“Pack it in, you two” Gretel snapped, standing on her hind legs for a better view, “I can hear shouting…oh goddesses…” Her voice fell to a near whisper, “…there’s ponies in there.”

“Nothing we can do about that” Stock huffed, “We’ve got enough problems of our own.”

Chalks ears twitched. He could hear it too, distant but distinct on the wind and echoing out across the valley…screaming, shouting, the howls of those burning alive in the flames. He could feel his heart beginning to race and he huddled up even tighter, willing the images from his mind, trying to forget the terrible sounds, the screams…dear Celestia, it was always the screams…

Chapter Six - The Other Side of the Moon

CHAPTER SIX

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MOON

Colonel Fulminata, commander of the forces of Nightmare Moon, leader of the thestral Legion and veteran of countless battles, sat staring at his map with empty eyes. His plans, so meticulously laid, had begun to unravel like so much yarn. The messenger had brought him the worst possible news; the wendigo had gone. Not only that though, oh no! The dragons too were refusing to fight because their leader, Etrida the elder, had been wounded in her fight with Celestia and now the huge greedy lumps of lard were wolfing down the supplies at a phenomenal rate. Many of them had even flown off looking for prey, despite being offered the corpses of the executed Celestians. Angrily, he held out his hoof for the water flask and downed a mouthful before turning to his Captain, “We’ve no choice but to…”

“Sir, messenger coming in.”

A griffin landed beside them in a flurry of wings, clearly worn from her exertions. She bowed, gasping for air as the Colonel hoofed her a drink which she gratefully accepted,

“Sir, the Celestians have…” She let out a barking cough, collecting herself before continuing, “they’ve attacked our supply lines at Thrush Crossing, there have been massive casualties. Captain Ingress’s reinforcements have similarly been attacked. Initial estimates are around four hundred dead, over twice that figure injured.”

Closing his eyes, the Colonel felt his chest tightening. It was his worst fear realised; the impetus of their attack, their momentum, had been lost. He knew the answer to his next question before he’d even asked it, “Who has attacked them?”

The griffin ruffled her wings, “Dragons. Several dozen fire drakes by initial estimates, possibly more.”

Fulminata sighed, staring up at the sky. It would be dark soon, time enough to do what they had to do. The last thing he wanted was to hoof the initiative back to the enemy, to give them the chance to consolidate and recover. His plan had been to pin the Celestians down, to let them think they had the advantage of the high ground beyond the forest, and then we would unleash his trump card. But now, now the bloody things had deserted them just when they needed them most. To add insult to injury the Celestians had somehow managed to gain the support of dragons as well…dragons! Didn’t they eat the damned things? He growled low in his throat, smoke rising from his nostils. He hadn’t been this furious in a long time, but he couldn’t let it show; not to his warriors, not even his own officers. But by the gods, all that death, all that work, the planning, and now, now it had all been thrown away!

“Sir?”

The messenger’s voice was nothing but background noise, a buzzing fly in a whirlwind of thoughts, plans and strategies that he had to re-think and re-plan. The griffin looked worriedly from the Colonel to the Captain, waiting for some response. Snarling, the Colonels eyes flared brightly, “You are to tell Captain Ingress to protect the supplies and move them up to our position as soon as possible. I will be sending air cover to him shortly.”

The griffin saluted, “Yes, Sir.” In a blast of air and feathers, the hybrid creature was up and flying away back to deliver her message.

Fulminata turned to his Captain, “Pull the troops in and set defences for the night.” He looked up at the sky, “Hopefully tomorrow, our ‘allies’ will have decided to rejoin us.”

The thestral officer nodded, snapped off a salute, and quickly took wing down the slope to the infantry that were waiting for their orders to advance. The Colonel watched him go, the light glinting off his armour, armour just like his own. There were few enough of them to begin with and now…even fewer. If this kept up, if they couldn’t bring a swift end to this war, then one day there would be too few of them to recover their population and their race, his people, would simply cease to be. Turning to head back up the hill, Fulminata’s thoughts wandered back to some of his earliest battles in the Beyond. Most had been small skirmishes: raids for food, resources and females usually, but on occasion there had battles on a scale that made this one look like a foal’s playset. Though that had been the problem hadn’t it? It was their nature, it was who they were. War was the nature of the thestral; they were born as warriors, to die as warriors. And now, after countless centuries of endless bloodshed, they had reached the tipping point. Their people had resorted to kidnapping females from other tribes just to try and keep their own tribe alive. It was so common now that it had become accepted as an inevitability, if not necessarily condoned. The irony of the situation was that when the raids occurred, even more of them were killed trying to stop the attackers. Colonel Fulminata muttered under his breath,

“Madness”

The cold air tingled his nose, the smell of woodsmoke still heavy in the valley. The fires had died down quickly, the heat dissipating to the point where he could have sent his warriors in, but without the support of the dragons and wendigo, with the enemy dug in and waiting, casualties would be heavy. Bitterly, he reached the tent and waited for the guards to inform the goddess of his arrival. He took a deep breath; in all likelihood, this wasn’t going to end well.

The tent flap moved aside.

The Colonel’s eyes widened in surprise as a black earth pony with a deep blue mane appeared in the entrance to the tent. This was new! Where were the usual servants?

The pony nodded his head respectfully, “Her divine majesty will see you now, Colonel.”

There was something in the pony’s manner, in his way of speaking, that Fulminata didn’t like. This one didn’t have the look of one of the northerners, nor did he appear to be a simple farm hoof that had answered the call of the goddess. No, this one had the look of a soldier, and by the clean patch of skin on his head that the fur was clearly absent from, he’d received considerable injury, and recently too. Following him in, Fulminata sighed; he was probably just another ‘pet’ for the goddess, a toy that she’d quickly tire of before casting it aside in search of a new one. Still, if it kept her amused, then a happy deity was well worth the price of a few of these Celestians. Truthfully, he couldn’t see what she saw in the useless creatures. They were hopeless, every single one of them, especially that incompetent ‘wizard’ or whatever he called himself; pointless creature.

“Your divine majesty”

Nightmare Moon lay on her chaise longue, her mane flowing our along her side like smoke from a camp fire. The Colonel’s eyes were drawn to the crescent moon on her flank. The virtually fluorescent image emblazoned upon a field of clouds was such a distinctive feature that it was duplicated upon the army’s banners. She truly was a magnificent creature; tall, elegant and terrible to behold, her gaze alone could freeze a warrior’s heart to ice, or so the stories went. There even was tell of how she could enter your dreams to speak to you of your bravery and deeds in past battles and the glory to come. Nightmare Moon was a warrior’s goddess, and one whom many would gladly lay down their lives for, and indeed, many had.

“Colonel Fulminata” She gave him a sidelong glance, motioning to the black coated pony to bring over a tray of drinks for them both, “I trust you have brought me good news?”

The Colonel bowed, “Your divinity, we have driven the Celestian army from the field, however they are entrenched in a strong defensible position on the southern side of the forest.”

Nightmare Moon yawned, “And?”

Fulminata looked up, “Your divinity?”

“Why are you still here?” the goddess’s voice started to increase in volume, her eyes narrowing menacingly, “Why aren’t you rolling over Celestia’s forces and bucking in the front door of her castle?” She lifted the goblet in her magic, and held it in front of the Colonels face, “Well?”

“Your divinity, I had planned the attack to include our allies, the lady Etrida and her dragons, as well as Lord Maroc’s wendigo.” Fulminata kept his voice steady, “I understand that neither of these elements are ‘available’ to us.”

“Do you need them to win, Colonel?” she asked in a curiously pleasant voice.

“Your divinity, the enemy commander has shown himself to be quite capable and I expect that a direct assault would end in massive loss of life. We may well win, but we would be so depleted as to be unable to defend ourselves should the enemy counterattack.”

The princess took a mouthful of wine, rising to her hooves, “Lady Etrida is wounded, Colonel, and there is only so much magic can do to heal her. Time will help, but that is something we do not have the luxury of.” She trotted over to the map table, “Celestia is gone. Where to, or even if she still lives, even I cannot say, however it is imperative we take the castle and end this war quickly and decisively.” She tapped her hoof next to a scale model of the impressive construction, “It was my home once as well as hers and its secret will serve us a lot better in my hooves than hers, wouldn’t you agree?”

Fulminata nodded, “Yes, divinity”

“Good” Nightmare Moon looked up at him from the map, “Then you understand how important it is that we keep up the momentum of our attack.”

This was the part that he’d been dreading. The Colonel took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice neutral, “Divinity, the Celestians have enlisted the aid of…”

“-I know, Colonel.” She interrupted, her azure eyes flashing dangerously, “The Celestians have new friends to help them.”

The Colonel lowered his eyes as she approached him, the goddess stopping mere inches from his muzzle,

“Colonel. Fulmin. Look at me”

Obediently, the veteran warrior lifted his head and looked eye to eye into the face of his goddess.

She smiled seductively, “I believe in you, do you believe in me?”

Fulminata’s heart surged, heat beginning to flush through him, building up into a raging torrent, “Yes, divine majesty, I do.”

Nightmare Moon smiled; a soft, gentle smile that promised retribution if denied, passion if obeyed. Willingly or not, Fulminata’s heart became a blazing inferno of motivation and drive to achieve. For her, for his goddess, he would march through hell and back just to see her smile.

The goddess leaned down, ruffling her wings and whispered into his ear, “You are my sword, Colonel, your warriors my shield. Carry my banner into the heart of Equestria. Plant it on the battlements of the castle.” She lifted his chin with her hoof, “For those who please me, there are…” the smile widened, “rewards.”

The Colonel’s eyes went wide in shock as the midnight coated mare planted a kiss on his muzzle, the thrill of it racing through him like cold lightning. He felt like he had twenty years, no, thirty years earlier; young, fit, full of fire and energy, a warrior of the Beyond. He could have been Duke! He should have been, they would have supported him, all of them. Maybe he still could? With the princess’s support, he could be the one to finally unite the tribes into one. He could save them, save them all!

He snapped to attention, “Divine Majesty”. Fulminata’s heart soared, the weight of his years vanishing from him as if though they had never been more than a dream, “I will drive the point of my sword deep into the heart of our enemy!”

The goddess smiled. Her eyes were so beautiful, so pure, and as deep as the ocean…

“Go now, Fulmin” the princess whispered lovingly, slowly running her hoof down his neck, “I believe in you.”

His fur tingled, his skin itched. It was time, time to do what he did best. The Colonel bowed, his voice all but cracking with the surges of emotion that ran through him, “By your divine guidance!”

With a final bob of her head, the princess, their dread goddess, dismissed him.

Trotting down the slope, Fulminata called for his messenger. Spotting him, several officers hastened over to join him on his way back to where their warriors were already beginning to set up a defensive line for the night. The Colonel’s heart soared, virtually singing through him with a renewed strength of purpose. The goddess was with them, truly with them, and this time…this time they would annihilate those damned things from the face of Equestria. A new dawn was coming, and he would be its herald.

“Wing Leader Bale!”

The young officer quickly trotted up, smoke snorting from his nostrils. He’d sensed the Colonels mood had he? Good. It was as it should be, as it always should have been.

“Colonel?” The younger stallion saluted, a wry grin on his face. He knew. Bale glanced at the older warrior’s tail, the way it swished furiously. They all knew now.

Fulminata shook his mane and let out a blast of smoke, “Tell the troops to stop what they’re doing and re-form the lines for battle.”

Bale’s smile nearly cracked his face in two, “Yes, Sir!”

In the gathering dusk, the yellow fires of the veteran warrior’s eyes glowed, thin wisps of smoke trickling out from between his bared teeth. For the first time in as long as he could remember, the Colonel smiled with the excitement of battle,

“Let’s show them how thestrals make war.”

********************************

Bracken sat quietly and watched, taking everything in. The thestral warrior was all but glowing with energy, his eyes two flickering yellow fires renewed by the princess’s words. The creature had appeared almost rejuvenated: fresh, alert, and nothing at all like the tired, sullen looking officer that had first entered through the tent only a few minutes earlier. Nightmare Moon was a truly amazing being. Perhaps she really was a goddess after all. After the Colonel left, she remained standing, the tent flaps dropping back down until, with a grunt, she collapsed onto her haunches. Bracken jumped up and hurried to her side,

“Divine Majesty, are you alright?” He reached out a hoof only to have it knocked roughly away. Nightmare Moon’s head hung tiredly, her wings sagging by her sides as her rolling smoke like mane became limp and more ‘normal’. Before his very eyes, the goddess, Nightmare Moon, transformed into…

“Princess Luna?” Brackens words were out before he could stop himself. With a squeak he covered his mouth, but it was too late, the princess had heard him. Her head snapped up and fixed him with a glare,

“Don’t you ever…EVER…call me…” She faltered, shaking her head as she toppled into Bracken’s outstretched hooves. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her eyes unfocussed. As carefully as he could, the black stallion guided and half carried the princess to her chaise longue and gently lay her on the cushions, adjusting them to make her as comfortable as possible. Her mane was now completely different, the ethereal smoke transitioning to a magnificent field of stars and moons, more typical of the images he’d seen of her before her transformation into the dark goddess, Nightmare Moon. She seemed…kinder, somehow, maybe even vulnerable. Bracken’s heart was thumping so hard in his chest he was certain she’d hear it. Being this close to her, the exotic smell of her fur, the way her wings accidentally brushed his leg…it was all he could do to keep focussed on the task at hoof.

He swallowed. What should he do now? He couldn’t leave her like this. Maybe he should call somepony? Pausing, he looked around the room, finding the water container, goblets, pitcher and some cloths. Gathering as much as he could, he set to work. Nightmare Moon, or rather, ‘Luna’s’, hoof covers looked heavy and certainly couldn’t have been comfortable for her. If she punished him for this later, he would have to take the risk. He took a deep breath and sat on his haunches, lifting her hoof in his and sliding the silvery metal cover off, placing it neatly beside the wash stand. Next, he removed another, and another, until all four were neatly placed together.

Throughout, she never stirred, never uttering even a single word. Bracken reached out and felt her forehead…she was burning up! Hurriedly, he filled the bowl with water and immersed the cloths, wringing them out as much as he could before moving round to the princess’s head.

“Forgive me.” He whispered, as he carefully began wiping the sweat from her brow, slowly running it down her muzzle and neck. Bracken rinsed out the cloth as best he could as he examined her. It would be hard to do much on the side of her that was leaning against the cushions, but he’d do what he could regardless. The fact that this was the enemy of his princess, the leader of the forces that threatened to take over his homeland, niggled at the back of his mind and yet here she was, Luna, the one his family had worshipped all those years ago. She was the dark to her sister light, the moon to her sun, the balance that the world needed. As he washed her, Bracken’s thoughts wandered. How had it all come to this; the death, the destruction, the horror of war? He shook his head, realising that in truth, he knew next to nothing. As a soldier, he followed orders. Doing as you were told had been a painful lesson at first, the first flush of excitement and thrill of potential adventure driven out of him by endless months of incessant drills and cleaning the latrines. At least Chalky had been there with him though, that troublesome stallion getting them both into hot water on more than one occasion for his hijinks. The white pony had changed considerably since he’d first met him too, the timid and nervous creature striving to become the centre of attention and mischief at every opportunity. Bracken smiled, rinsing out the cloth; he missed his friend. Goddesses, he hoped he was alright.

Arranging the equipment, he began brushing out the princess’s mane. The stars and moons shimmered at his touch, sending what looked like shooting stars hurtling through the eternal depths of space. It was…electrifying. Embarrassingly, Bracken felt his body beginning to feel hot and his ears were near burning as he worked. He passed it off as nothing more than a side effect of being so close to such a magical creature, and certainly not anything…else. He concentrated on his work. With each stroke, the brush flowed effortlessly through the ethereal waves of hair. Some of it brushed against him and made him jump in surprise; it was like running his hoof through ice water. Despite the strangeness it fascinated him, and he found himself smiling like a foal on his first birthday. Giving himself a shake, Bracken quickly looked back at the princess, expecting her to be glowering at him; she wasn’t. Her eyes were closed, her chest slowly rising and falling at a more normal pace than it had been earlier. For a moment, Bracken looked down at her tail and paused. It may need brushing out too, although of course he had only recently done it, and to do it anyway would mean being close to her haunches, her…rump. He swallowed. No…no he’d leave that. Familiarity with her was a step too far, way too far.

Luna suddenly coughed. It was a dry sound that reminded Bracken of the dryness of the tents interior. Quickly, he filled a goblet with water, but there was no way he would be able to hold that up to her without spilling it. There had to be…there! A small bowl sat nearby; a plain, simple thing, but it would serve well enough for this task. Delicately, he slipped his hoof under Luna’s neck and lifted her head,

“Divine majesty…” he whispered, “Please…drink.” She didn’t respond. Bracken took a breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before trying again, “Luna…my princess, please. You must drink, here…”

He lifted the bowl to her lips, trickling a little across them until he saw her mouth twitch, her tongue lapping at the small glinting drops.

“That’s right” he murmured, “Just a little more”

Gradually, the princess began to drink, moving her muzzle into the bowl. Bracken watched in fascination as she drank. Regardless of who she was, to see such a beautiful creature so weak was heartbreaking and it called out to him. She was an alicorn, true, but she was still a pony…of sorts. Eventually, she took all the water she would take and let out a soft sound as Bracken carefully laid her head back on the cushions making her as comfortable as he could. Instinctively, he reached out to stroke her neck and stopped himself. He shouldn’t be doing this, he…he couldn’t. This was…

He shook himself vigorously. He couldn’t think like that! No matter what, she was still a princess of Equestria and the sister of his own princess. As an Equestrian himself, that meant that Luna was his princess every bit as much as Celestia was. Holding his head in his hooves, Bracken’s mind warred with his heart. The conflict inside him was one of confusion, heartache and…heartache? No…he had to do something. Being so close to the princess, to Nightmare Moon, was affecting him the same way it had affected that thestral officer. He nodded to himself; he would have to get some proper help for her. That white robed maid, or whatever she was, the one that he’d first met when he came to in the tent, should still be about. Bracken’s mind made up, he rose to his hooves and went to move to the doorway.

“No”

The princess’s voice was dry, distant. One of her slender legs reached out to him, almost imploringly, “No…stay…”

Bracken halted, turning back to her, “Your divinity, I’m only a soldier. I don’t know how to…”

“-No.” The princess interrupted, “Bracken, stay with me. Nopony else can see me” she sighed, “…like this.”

The black stallion bowed, “By your divine guidance my princess.”

One of her eyes opened slowly, the deep azure orb slowly focussing on him as she smiled softly, her voice calm and soothing, “Princess…” Moments later, she was asleep once more.

Quietly, Bracken began to tidy the tent, placing everything away except what he thought he may need when the princess awoke. She wasn’t the only one who was tired either. He was worn out himself, both mentally and physically. With a groan, he sank to the floor of the tent beside the midnight coated mare. She may need him when she awoke, and he would be there for her when she did. Surely a short nap wouldn’t hurt? It would only be a few minutes…

Chapter Seven - Landlocked

CHAPTER SEVEN

LANDLOCKED

The atmosphere had changed, and not just because of the incessant thumping of drums and the blare of signal trumpets. Curled up in the corner of the enclosure, Chalk quietly watched the red mare leaning up against the far side, carefully observing the massing army further down in the valley. Something was about to happen, to change the world he knew. He could feel it, he could sense it in the air. His horn began to itch furiously.

Beside him, the mint green mare who’d prevented him from standing up to face his tormentor, was watching something through the gaps in the gate. Whatever was going on, the tension was making him want to cover his ears with his forehooves. He never got the chance, as the red mare approached him.

“Chalky,” Gretel murmured so only he could hear “can you run?”

He blinked up at her, nodding, although it was more out of surprise than anything else. The red mare winked at him,

“Good boy”

Chalk looked at her in confusion. A heartbeat later, the very air itself began to vibrate with the sound of thousands of hooves marching. Instinctively he hauled himself to his hooves and looked out at the massed thestrals moving towards the forest in the distance. His eyes went wide in horror; it was happening again! The killing…it would never end, not until every one of them was…

“Gretel!” The green pony by the gate hissed, discreetly waving a hoof.

A mare screamed.

Chalk’s ears twitched, swivelling toward the sound. There was a loud scuffle from the far end of the enclosure, with several of the ponies pushing in to see what was happening while others backed away from the disturbance in alarm. From somewhere within the press of equines he could hear grunts, shouting, and the disturbingly wicked laugh of a stallion,

“Got you now, girly!”

A mare’s voice shrieked out, “Get…off me, you rat!”

“Watch out, she kicks!” Somepony shouted as the crowd surged back suddenly. There was a bony crack,

“Ow! Bloody hell fire!”

“Told you” It was Docs voice.

Whatever was happening had attracted the attention of one of the griffin guards who quickly summoned another of his colleagues and the thestral officer who he’d seen earlier. Chalk backed into the fence as the three approached with weapons drawn.

“Damn you, get off me!” The mare’s shrieks cut through him, making him take a step forward. What was going on? Whatever it was it didn’t sound good and with the guards heading their way, it wasn’t going to end well for them.

The gate was pulled open and the guards marched in, heading straight towards the milling crowd of ponies,

“What’s going on here? Get back, all of you!”

The thestral pushed on through. His guards, unable to make any headway through the mass of equines, were forced to follow in single file. Finally, with a snort, the young officer managed to break into the centre of the mass. Taking a breath, he looked down at the sand coated mare with the scarlet eyes, lying on the ground with a large brown stallion pinning her down. The officer opened his mouth to shout as the stallion looked round at him with a sly grin,

“…Gotcha”

The ponies in the enclosure surged forward, knocking the officer hooves away from his sword as he glanced back over his shoulder to look for his guards. They were nowhere to be seen; engulfed in the tide of pressing Celestians. The eyes of the ponies, so dull and lifeless earlier, now glowed with renewed determination. The officer stared at the brown stallion as he rose to his hooves and released the mare.

Stock shrugged, “Sorry about this, but you know how it is.” With a savage buck, his hooves connected with the thestral’s jaw, sending him to the ground like a block of stone. Reaching down, Stock took the thestral officer’s sword and began removing the creatures armour. Others surrounded them, blocking them from sight until eventually, a very strange thestral-esque armoured ‘thing’ emerged, flanked by two ponies in the most appallingly badly fitting armour Chalk had ever seen. Even at a distance they’d stand out, but…

“You coming or would you rather stay here?”

Maroon eyes stared at him. Gretel’s expression was one of both agitation and excitement combined. She didn’t wait for an answer. Before Chalk could even take a breath, the mare grabbed his flanks and shoved him bodily into the mass of ponies heading out through the gate. Leading the way the large dark brown stallion, Stock, looked almost black in the failing light. The flanking ‘griffins’ on the other hoof, looked more like a very badly thought out fancy dress act. Chalk squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a silent prayer to the goddess. If ever they needed her, it was now.

They moved slowly, unhurriedly, but with a single minded purpose. Every step, every single inch, felt like an eternity, waiting for that inevitable confrontation. Chalk Dust could feel the others around him, hear their breathing, the press of his fellows against him providing a level of mutual re-assurance. But, surely somepony had noticed the mass of ponies shambling up the valley away from the enclosure? He shook his mane, ramming the negativity from his mind and focussed only on walking, simply…walking.

A voice beside him spoke quietly but confidently, “We’re nearly there, Chalky”

His eyes met Gretel’s. “Where?” he asked, barely daring to speak in case it shattered the fragility of their situation.

“See those trees up ahead?” She motioned towards a small copse not far away, “We’re nearly home free. Just do as we tell you, and you’ll be okay, right?”

He nodded. What else could he do? Part of him wanted to break out, to run as far as his legs would take him, but they’d be on him in seconds. He knew it of course, but that said, where was everypony? The camp was strangely deserted. Although he couldn’t see very much from where he was, it looked like the entire enemy camp had emptied and was massed on the plains below, gradually disappearing into the forest. Surely they would have left some of their number behind to guard the camp?

All of a sudden they stopped. Around him, ponies shifted nervously, hooves pawing the ground, the sense of anger, anticipation and fear washing over him like a wave. He could hear male voices coming from the front of their group. Gretel snorted beside him, giving him a nervous smile. Chalk strained his hearing to listen to what was being said. If he concentrated, if he turned his head just so, he could just about make out the strange, heavy intonation of what he assumed was a minotaur,

“Where you go with ponies?”

“The Colonel wants them on board to crew the ship for the attack.”

“No orders for this.”

“What’s your name”

“Huh?”

“Your name, soldier, you do have one don’t you?”

“I am Fettle”

“Good. Now then Fettle, you can wait here while I go and tell the goddess why the attack has to wait while we double check her commands. Is that alright with you?”

“No! Fettle not want goddess mad”

“Right then, so I’ll ask you Fettle, will you allow me to take these ponies on board as ordered by her divine majesty?”

“Uh…yes.”

“Good, now help us shift these…”

“What’s going on here? Who are all these ponies?” Another voice, the alien sound of a thestral.

Chalk’s heart sank as beside him, Gretel tensed.

“I don’t know you, and why are you wearing thestral armour?”

There was a sudden intake of breath, “GUA...”

The word ended in the sickening sound of gagging, a grunt of pain and Stock’s voice calling out to them,

“Come on! Let’s move!”

Gretel reared, “Everypony, follow us!”

As one, the ponies surged forward, heading towards only the goddess knew where. Gretel suddenly grabbed Chalk and pulled him to one side,

“You’re with me, cutie.” She tossed him a sword, “You know how to use that, don’t you?” Chalk nodded. Gretel’s maroon eyes gleamed, “Good, now let’s haul flank!”

They ran. Not far ahead, a copse soon hove into view and by the looks of it they were heading straight for it. Beside it however, partially hidden by the trees, lay the strangest sight Chalk had ever seen in his life. He’d seen them in the harbour when he was younger of course, rocking gently at anchor, their huge sails snapping in the wind, their seasoned timbers creaking with the movement of the waves, but never in the middle of a…a field?

Gretel shouted over to him as they ran, “When we get there, straight up the gang plank, you understand?”

“Yes!” He yelled back, “What is that? Why…?”

“-You never seen a sky galleon before?” the red mare laughed, “You really have had a sheltered life!”

Shouts and bellows around them began to increase, coming ever nearer. Gretel gave her head a shake, “Tell you what, Chalky, if we make it out of here alive, I’ll give you a guided tour!”

Chalk’s heart soared, adrenalin flowing through him as he channelled his magic, “Let’s just get there in one piece first, eh?”

There was something about this mare, something in her mannerism and bearing that gave him the heart, strength and the will to fight. How she did it, whether deliberately or something that just happened when he was near her, he didn’t know. Right then he didn’t care, he just wanted to get away from that hellish place and put as much distance between him and it as equinely possible.

One of the ponies suddenly cried out as a bolt found its mark, the young stallion crashing to the ground. Nopony stopped. Their goal was now so near that not even the gods could cease their headlong charge.

Stock was the first up the gangplank, quickly pulling the heavy tarpaulin off a large object near the railing. Doc was hot on his hooves, encouraging the mass of ponies onto the deck and barking orders. The gangplank though was only a few feet wide, barely enough for two ponies at a time to climb up and was a natural bottleneck for so many.

Gretel’s expression said it all, “We need to buy them some time! Chalky, you up for a fight?”

Chalk’s heart was hammering fit to burst, his chest burning with exertion. Without speaking, his actions told the cherry red mare all she needed to know as the white stallion’s sword took the first minotaur’s leg out from under it. Gritting his teeth, Chalk shifted his weight, all his months of training flooding through his mind, guiding his movements, driving the heavy blade deep into the heart of the creature that would have sent him to the next world if it could.

He grinned, “You first…”

More of them were coming. Alerted by the shouting, what looked more like workers than warriors, were piling out of the shacks and tents dotted around the area. Few wore armour and the weapons being wielded had a distinctly familiar look to them. Although quite possibly a lot less immediately lethal than a battle axe or sword, being hit with a claw hammer or a length of wood didn’t appeal to Chalk in the slightest. Regardless of the weapons being used however, more frightening was that the oncoming beasts all bore the same deadly expression as their more heavily armoured counterparts. Chalk’s horn glowed, the blue glow intensifying as he blasted the nearest of them in the chest. Fellow woodworkers or not, he felt no compunction about send these things back into the pit from whence they came.

Movement beside him made him jump back as Chalk dodged a potentially killing blow with a sledgehammer. His sword answered; cutting up and around, slicing through muscle and sinew. The minotaur bellowed, falling to its knees. Without pause, Chalks sword flicked round, opening the wounded creature’s throat. All the time, his mind was clear, focussed, moving as one with his sword as he’d been taught. The months of endless drills flowed back to him, his muscles working almost on instinct: ‘keep all other thoughts out’, ‘cut’, ‘thrust’, ‘parry’. A bolt of magic sizzled past him from somewhere and he span, blasting the…pony? For only barest second he caught sight of the mare as she fell, taken full in the chest by his magic energy bolt. They had ponies here? He’d heard of them, but…

“Damn!”

The familiar voice cried out in anger. Gretel? Chalk homed in on voice, “Gretel!”

Minotaurs pressed in on them, hemming them in against the hull. Those left at the bottom of the gangplank were now fighting with anything they had to hoof, but there were so many of them! Too many. Chalk blasted another and another, hacking his assailants down in his determination to reach the red mare,

“GRETEL!”

“Chalky…” The voice seemed so far away, but then…he saw her. Gretel was being forced away from the rest of the ponies, drifting away in a sea of snarling, growling beasts. The white stallion pushed hard, striking down another minotaur, taking a heavy blow across his flank as he tried to dodge. Something sharp cut into his neck, the burning pain lancing down his body as he tried to reach her,

“Gretel! GRETEL!”

He saw a glimpse of red, and then the tide of minotaurs parted momentarily revealing the mare as she was smashed to the ground by one of the huge beasts, the monstrous thing kicking her savagely as another cracked her across the head with a pickaxe handle. Chalk screamed wordlessly, trying to reach her, but it was too far…

The hulking minotaur raised a felling axe, gripping the helpless mare’s mane in his other claw. The thing’s teeth were bared with deadly intent as Gretel looked across to Chalk racing toward her. Those maroon eyes, so strong, so true…she smiled,

“Chalky…”

Chalk Dusts cry of impotent rage, fear and hate cracked the air, “No! NOOO!”

Colour turned to black and white.

A negative imagine burned across the eyes of those could still see as silence drowned everything, sucking up even the cries of the dying in the cold of the early evening air. Slowly, the world began to re-emerge, the emptiness replaced with the moans of the dying and cries of the wounded. Chalk covered his eyes, huddling into a ball. Miss would be coming soon, and she’d be angry with him. He’d been bad, really, really bad. They’d deserved it though, and for that he wasn’t sorry. Those bullies, those vile, horrible foals; they wouldn’t hurt anypony else now, not any more. But…his mother, she would be upset, the teachers would tell her what he’d done and she’d cry. He didn’t want to see that! He didn’t want his mother to…

A freezing cold deluge of water hit him full in the face, bringing with it the coldness of bitter reality as it crashed into Chalk with all the force of a tidal wave. In shock, he flailed around, dragging himself to his feet as the world seemed to lurch under him. He broke into a heavy bout of coughing, throwing up what little was inside his stomach before a pair of rough hooves grabbed him and hauled him in front of a dark brown muzzle. Stock’s chestnut eyes stared into his from mere inches away,

“I don’t know what the hell that was boy, but we’ve got to get the hell out of here now and I need everypony, EVERPONY to keep these buckers off us until I can get the old girl skyward.” He gave Chalk a brief shake, “Do you understand?”

Chalk coughed, “Gre…Gretel…”

“Never mind her, now…” Stock turned round, ducking as something whizzed overhead, “Dammit! We’ve got boarders!”

Staggering backwards, Chalk tried to focus on what was happening in front of him. He blinked, surely this wasn’t real? No…good goddess, it…

A screech from behind made him flinch down instinctively, barely avoiding a wickedly curved sword snarling mere inches over his head. A shock of pain hit him, the jolt just enough to bring him back to his senses along with the image of the griffin bringing its sword around at neck level. Chalk lunged, ducking inside the feathered creatures swing, ramming his horn into its throat. Although not that sharp, the combination of anger, fear and momentum were enough. Gasping for air, the griffin fell back clutching the gaping wound, its life blood spraying out over its claws. Chalk span, kicking the beast to the ground and in a swift move that would have impressed his impassive weapons teacher, snatched up the griffin’s sword and plunged it into the things heart. Silently, it fell back off the blade, landing with a heavy thud on the ships deck.

Ships deck…

No wonder he was so confused! Good goddesses, it was a ship! He hadn’t been dreaming it after all! Near him, two ponies were busy pulling the gangplank up while others hauled on ropes. Even more of them were fighting off the attacking griffins. Fortunately, the enemy appeared to lack any formal co-ordination and their efforts were piecemeal, with no more that one or two diving in at a time. Hissing past his ear, a crossbow bolt raked Chalks haunch making him grit his teeth in pain. Damn it, he needed to keep focussed! Looking up, he caught a glimpse of his griffin assailant as it took cover behind the central mast, reloading its crossbow. Growling, blue light glowed around him…

Suddenly a crossbow was thrust at him, his magic winking out as he took a step back in surprise, “Gretel!”

The red mare, covered in makeshift bandages and being fussed over by an irritated Doc, lifted her own weapon and nodded to him, “Don’t use magic on board my ship!” She lifted her own crossbow and shot at the griffin, the bolt narrowly missing the creature as it ducked back just in time. Gretel gave Chalk a shove, “Well go on then, don’t stand there like a lump of wood!” The griffin’s next shot thunked heavily into the deck between them. The red mare gave Chalk a swift whack around the back of the head, “Shoot the damned thing!”

Chalk winced at the blow, but lifted his crossbow dutifully. He could see the griffin, the way the creature would peek around the mast just so before it levelled its own weapon…

The world of sound dwindled to little more than a background hum as he concentrated, bringing the target to him, closing the distance, and squeezed the release lever. The griffin, its crossbow loaded, took a breath and rolled around the mast, lifting its weapon to its eye to shoot. It jerked, the steel tipped bolt bursting out the back of its skull while the wind whipped through its feathers; the last time it felt the air before the bloodied form slammed into the unyielding timbers below.

“Damn…” Gretel stared in amazement, “You sure can shoot, Chalky, I’ll give you that.”

Chalk Dust lowered his crossbow and looked about the deck. There were no more griffins, nor any more minotaurs for that matter. Stock was still barking orders, ignoring the bodies lying on the deck. They could be dealt with later. Gretel quickly hooked the crossbow onto her back and was off up to the quarterdeck, shouting orders of her own. Deciding it was best to keep out of the way, Chalk checked his weapons and recovered several bolts from the dead and pulled the one from the deck that nearly hit him earlier. He smirked. He’d keep that as a souvenir; definitely one for the tavern!

“Bosun, we loaded and ready?”

A familiar female voice boomed out from above him, making Chalk look up in surprise. Another voice from further along the deck, called back,

“Aye Cap’n.”

Chalk stared in amazement at the red mare leaning her hooves against the carved wooden railing as she bellowed her commands:

“Cast off forerd!”

“Cast off forerd, aye Cap’n”

The deck suddenly shifted under Chalks hooves, sending him staggering into the railing as the bow of the ship lurched upwards.

“Cast off aft!”

“Cast off aft, aye”

The stern of the vessel heaved and creaked ominously, sending loose objects rattling and sliding across the deck as the ship gradually rose into the air. Ponies clambered up the rigging, using hooked attachments on their legs, moving like large spiders. Higher and higher they went until they were able to unfurl the massive sails which were already beginning to catch the wind. Chalk didn’t know what to look at next; it was…a ship, yes, a ship! His eyes were as wide as saucers as he took it all in…a flying ship! Not even in his wildest dreams had he thought something like this existed, and nopony had ever even mentioned such a thing. The story tellers, the old soaks down at the barrack tavern with their fanciful tales of adventures in far off lands, none of them, none had spoken of such a thing. It was a true marvel!

“You there. Hoy! You finished staring like a beached cod?”

Chalk gave himself a shake and peered back up at a red mare. Gretel was leaning her chin on her crossed forelegs as she watched him from the quarterdeck balustrade,

“Coming up, Mister Dust?”

Chalk shook his head in wonderment. What did you say in times like this? He thought back to his days visiting the docks with his mother when she went to collect the rare and exotic woods for her carving. He would sit and listen to the sounds of life going on around him, completely disinterested in his mothers bartering. The dock and those enormous wooden galleons were what really caught his imagination. They smelled of wood, spices and the promise of adventures in far off lands unseen by pony eyes. How he’d longed to get away, to be his own stallion. Ah, to be an adventurer! He snorted, letting out a small nicker before smiling up into the bright maroon eyes of Gretel. Chalk nodded his head to her,

“Aye, Cap’n!”

**************************

From up here, Chalk could see the entire deck, including, as he found out to his surprise, how rapidly the land was disappearing below them. For a moment, vertigo squeezed at his innards, the world around him lurching before quickly re-asserting itself. As a unicorn, flying was something he’d only ever been able to dream of, especially as pegasi were few and far between back home in his village. Those that did live there were getting on in years and rarely flew further than the tavern. Then one day it had all changed; he’d joined the army, and then there were whole regiments, or ‘flights’ of them. Chalk and the others could only look on in wonder, marvelling at the winged ponies and their incredible aerobatic displays. It must be wonderful, he thought enviously, to be able to cast off the shackles of gravity and feel the air running through your mane without a care. Now, here he was, high above the land, the wind catching his mane and whistling around him. He may not have wings, but he was doing it! He was flying!

Gretel walked up beside him, leaning on the railing, “You like it?”

Chalk was grinning from ear to ear, “Like it? It’s amazing! I never knew anything like this existed!”

“There’s not many like her,” Gretel smiled, gazing distantly at the darkening sky, “We’ve been together since I was foal.” She ran a hoof lovingly over the carved balustrade, “She was my fathers, and when he went to be with the herd, she came to me.”

Below them on the main deck, Stock and the green mare where busy issuing orders. The mass of ponies moved fluidly, each knowing their job and tending the vessel like the inner working of some incredible machine. Some of them, Chalk noticed, had been employed in throwing the bodies overboard after stripping them of anything useful. Others, the rescued prisoners, the injured, or simply exhausted, had been ushered quickly below decks. Gretel reached out and took Chalk’s chin, her eyes peering at him intensely. He smiled back at her, trying to pull away playfully, but she kept her grip firm,

“You’re hurt.” She announced levelly.

Taking in the rest of him, Gretel trotted over to the front of the quarterdeck,

“Doc! Get your useless sack of bones up here, pronto!”

“I’m okay!” Chalk laughed, “Honestly, I…” he staggered, “Oh…buck, it…”

“Grab him, somepony!” Docs voice seemed to be coming from far away for some reason, “Hold him still, damn it all!”

Chalk’s vision became blurred, accompanied by a sickening feeling of being heavy and yet light at the same time which overwhelmed him. Blinking, he stared up into a pair of deep maroon eyes as he was laid on the deck. Gretel looked worried, but the Doc was here, he’d know what to do. Wouldn’t he?

“Celestia’s hairy arse, Gretel, he’s a mess.” Hooves, prodded Chalk’s sides, examining his head, neck and flanks, “He’s lost a lot of blood.”

Gretel’s voice sounded agitated, “Get him below, Doc.” She paused, “No, on second thought take him to my cabin. Use my bed.”

Pain, hot and insistent, shot through Chalk’s body, the image of a familiar black stallion suddenly prominent in his mind’s eye. He tried to speak but a wracking cough took him. Gretel reached down and gently lifted his hoof,

“It’s alright Chalky, you’ll be fine. The Doc knows what he’s doing.”

“No…” he gasped, “Gretel, please. My friend…” Goddesses his throat was so dry, it was like trying to talk with a mouthful of grain, “Bracken…he’s my friend. We…we can’t…”

The red mare stroked his foreleg, “We have to get away from here Chalky. I’m sorry, but we can’t endanger the ship to look for your friend. He could be anywhere.”

“He…he’s with the army.” Chalk looked up at her pleadingly, “Please, Gretel, don’t…don’t abandon them…”

Doc looked up from his ministration, “Oh no! Don’t even think about it, Captain. We’re up to our fetlocks in it here, and if you…”

“MISTER HAGGIS!” The mare’s voice bellowed out over the sound of the wind, “BRING US ABOUT.”

A raspy voice called back, “Bringing us about, aye!”

The vessel creaked ominously as it banked into a sharp turn.

Doc shook his head, “You never change, Gretel. You’re just like your father.”

“Oh belt up, you old fart.” Gretel gritted her teeth, her shoulder length yellow mane rippling like spun gold in the gathering darkness. The sight of her seemed to fill Chalk’s heart with a renewed energy and he was taken with a sudden and overwhelming urge to be with her, to stand by her side. Whatever had possessed him, grabbed his soul in its hooves and pushed him forward. With a surge of strength he never knew he had, Chalk pulled away from Doc and rose shakily to his hooves, grabbing the balustrade for support with his forelegs. Gretel stared in amazement as the white unicorn stood up, the look of determination and magic in his eyes apparently overriding the pain and fatigue his body had endured. He looked at her and smiled.

Stock appeared below the quarterdeck, calling up, “Orders, Captain?”

The red mare kept staring at Chalk then gave herself a hard shake. Every part the ship’s Captain, Gretel’s presence like a burning beacon for the crew to take heart from. She grabbed the railing and called down,

“Beat to quarters, Master Stock.”

“Aye, aye, Captain”

Doc continued to fuss around Chalk as he applied various salves and bandages while also trying to wash out his wounds. At one point, Chalk tried to move, only to be firmly pulled back again by the irritated ships surgeon, “Will you stop bloody well moving around! I don’t know how the hell you’re on your hooves as it is without you arsing about while I’m trying to work!”

Gretel was busy directing the ships company, leaving Chalk feeling decidedly useless. Injured as he was he’d be of little help even if he knew what to do, and in such an alien environment as the large ‘sky galleon’, as the Captain had called it, keeping out of the way of the crew was likely to be the most prudent course of action. Beneath him, he felt a bandage being tightened against his hind leg followed by a frustrated exhale of breath,

“I don’t know what the hell you’ve done to our Captain, boy”, Doc muttered, his pink eyes glancing up at him, “But if anything happens to this ship, or worse, to Gretel, the crew will hang you from the bowsprit.” He shook his head slowly, focussing on his work, “If you’re lucky” he added quietly.

Chalk didn’t hear him. He was too busy staring up at the huge white sails of the galleon. The way they rippled and billowed in the wind was beyond anything he could have ever dreamt of as a foal, yet here he was, on board. Everything that had happened to him since river valley was almost dream-like. Had he really fought those minotaurs? The pain running through him suggested he’d come off quite badly himself, but at least he’d made it; he was alive! Chalk closed his eyes and breathed deeply, almost expecting on some level to take in the smell of salt air and the sea. Beside him, Doc stood up, shaking his head at him in wonder, and trotted off down the steps to the main deck to tend his other patients.

From all around, the loud hum of the crew at work came and went, mingling with the sounds of the wind and sails. Above it all, voices called out to one another from up in the rigging to others down on the deck. Several of the crew were busily engaged in bringing up barrels from below decks, their movements fluid and precise. They were a rough looking lot, certainly, but not anything like as…what was the word, ‘salty?’ as Chalk had expected for a ships crew. Maybe he’d read too many foals stories, but even in them there was no mention of flying ships, despite references to them ‘flying over the water’. But of course, the writer had probably used that word descriptively, and not to be taken literally.

Another barrel thumped onto the deck, the mint green pony watching anxiously, carefully directing the winching and hauling operation with a practiced eye. As each one was brought up, several ponies took the lifted barrels and rolled them into position by the bottom of the quarterdeck, lashing them securely in place. Further along, Stock was supervising several large metal and wood devices similarly being brought up from the ship’s hold through the forward cargo hatch. Another group of ponies worked at securing the odd contraptions into mounts of some description at intervals along the deck. Finally, large oil cloth bundles of spears were brought up and neatly stacked along the ships sides, no doubt for dropping on an unsuspecting enemy. ‘Or griffins’, Chalk thought to himself as his neck twinged painfully, ‘can’t forget those bloody things’.

The ship gradually came out of its slow turn, righting itself and glided effortlessly on into the gathering night. No lights were lit, not even a spark, and certainly no smoking. Chalk had a sudden twinge of regret he’d lost his pipe. It wasn’t his favourite one, that was still safe back at the barracks, but it had been a gift from well wishers in the village. Bracken had one just like it; two pipes for the two local heroes going off to war. He leaned on the railing peering out at the distant specks of torchlight. They seemed an ethereal counterpoint to the peaceful white light of the stars in the sky far above. Between them, the ship slipped in virtual silence: a predator stalking its prey. Chalk grinned to himself. He’d have to write a book about this one day; how about, ‘Chalky and the Sky Pirates’? Shaking his head at his flight of whimsy, Chalk leaned down and picked up the curved sword the griffin had tried to end his short military career with only a hour or so earlier. It was a solid piece; sharp, and deadly. He ran a hoof down the blade. It was a good sword, perhaps needing a little sharpening and maybe a touch of oil to guard against rust, but it would serve him well. Sliding it back into its scabbard, he clucked his tongue. The griffin must have been a lot slimmer than he was; he’d have to see about getting the strap lengthened and adjusted for a pony frame at some point. Maybe one of the crew could help? The sound of hooves on wood made him look up. In a flourish Gretel appeared, all but bouncing up the steps, her eyes sparkling. She looked radiant, despite the white bandages wrapped around her head which reminded Chalk all too clearly of her recent close call with the reaper.

“How you keeping up, cutie?” Her smile demanded a response in kind.

“As well as you, apparently Cap’n” Chalk grinned.

Gretel laughed, slapping him on the shoulder, “I like you Chalky!” she suddenly grabbed him around the neck, making him squeak, “Oh yes…yes I do!” Barking out a laugh, the red coated Captain nipped Chalk’s ear and gave him a whack on the rump making him stagger, “Now keep out of the way, Mister Dust and watch how a mare commands a galleon!”

A young colt appeared briefly, hoofing a large black hat up to the Captain’s waiting hoof. Ramming the gold trimmed thing on her head, she stood up on her hind legs, holding her forelegs out to either side and cocked her head,

“Well?”

“You look every part the dashing captain!” Chalk laughed, leaning against the railing. With one hoof on his sword hilt and bandaged himself, he wondered just how he must have looked, never mind the hat wearing mare. Great goddesses, all she needed now was a beard and an eye patch. Instead, she looked alluring, deliciously exotic…and dangerous. Chalk felt a sudden jolt of an unfamiliar emotion running through him. The surprised expression on his face had not unnoticed by the red mare; she gave him a sidelong wink and shifted her long coat tails, revealing a flash of her shapely hind quarters. He shouldn’t have been surprised really, in fact, he would have been more so if it wasn’t: the cutie mark emblazoned upon the red mare’s flank was a large ship’s wheel. He took a deep breath and nodded to her. She was the Captain alright, and somehow, somewhere along the line, he’d become part of her crew.

Chapter Eight - High Tide

CHAPTER EIGHT

HIGH TIDE

Dray stared out of the tent into the gathering darkness, his eyes intently focussed on the edge of forest. He’d been sat there like that for at least an hour. Major Wild shared a glance with Captain Weald; she’d rarely seen him like this before. True, he’d always been the sort of stallion who focussed on any task with all of his drive and dedication, but this was new, this…patience. Everypony knew how the Colonel had risen through the ranks, how he knew just how far to push his ponies, and how he was always one step ahead of his foe. From drummer to army commander, Dray had clawed his way from the bottom to the top, a fact that many in the aristocracy hated with a passion. He wasn’t ‘one of them’, he was a commoner, a simple farm labourer’s son from a backwater nowhere place. ‘Breeding’ they called it, others had another name for it, but it was one that wasn’t used in polite conversation.

Wild shifted her weight, feeling her muscles protest at the movement. She’d been in her armour a lot longer than usual, and how Dray managed it with such apparent ease was something she envied. The rest of the troops were in the same predicament though, that was true, sitting out along the ridge, limited to low campfires and army rations. Staring down at the lump of pink salt before her, she found she’d lost all appetite for it. If the troops couldn’t enjoy such treats, she reasoned, why should she? The brandy though was a different matter. That was something she could enjoy and the Major took a grateful sip of the warming spirit. Tingling in the pit of her stomach, it was a feeling that reminded her of the good things in life. Somepony had made the effort to make this, to create it with care and attention. It was only right that she appreciate every drop of their hard work.

“Higher Lands Heather”

Wild looked up and raised an eyebrow,

“Hmm?”

“I said, it’s ‘Higher Lands Heather’” Weald said, reading the label on the bottle, “Like your name, ‘Heather’.”

The Major shrugged, “Most know me as ‘Wild’.” She yawned and flexed her shoulders, “Still, its damned good brandy Weald.”

“Another glass?”

Wild pushed her glass forward, “Last one though. If these buggers come at us, I want all my faculties ‘un-brandied’.”

The Captain chuckled, “True, true.” He poured the Major a generous measure, carefully replacing the cap, “Don’t fancy your salt? You’ve barely touched it.”

Wild gazed down at her glass, “Thanks, Weald, but I just can’t tonight. You know how it is.”

He smiled, “I guess I do.”

She looked up suddenly, “You know, for all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never asked if you have another name.”

Weald’s eyes went wide, “My name?” he slugged back the rest of his brandy, “Why are you asking now?”

“I don’t know! I just…” the Major’s voice trailed off. Why did she want to know? In truth, she wasn’t really that bothered. Weald’s reputation amongst the army was well known and similarly well deserved. She’d overheard one of the soldier’s quip that the Captain’s tent had two flaps, one for those coming in and the other so the last mare he’d bedded could nip out before the new one saw her. ‘Doing his bit for harmony in the camp’, somepony had called it. ‘Spreading his oats, more likely’, Wild thought sarcastically.

“Pine”

Wild’s thoughts re-ordered themselves quickly, “What?”

From across the table, Weald rolled his eyes, “I said my name’s Pine, Pine Weald. Honestly, Major you seem as distant as the Colonel. Is everything alright?”

Wild snorted, “Apologies Captain, my minds elsewhere tonight.”

“Can’t blame you for that”, Weald replied taking out his pipe set, “Smoke?”

Wild shook her head, “Why the mystery with the name though? Pine’s a nice name.”

The Captain looked at her through the rising plume of pungent tobacco smoke, “’Nice’” he muttered. The honey coated stallion deftly put out the match and took a draw on his pipe, “I never liked it.”

The red mare’s eyebrows drew down, “I don’t understand”

Leaning back in his chair, Weald tamped down the tobacco with his magic, “My fathers name was Sole Pine, I was named after him. My family were foresters, lumber workers really I suppose. It was hard work, dangerous too, but it kept us in bits and we never starved.” He paused, taking another draw, “Until father’s accident.”

The Major face hoofed, “Oh no, Weald, I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

Captain Weald rose to his hooves, giving his head a slow shake,

“He didn’t die, at least, not for a good few years.” His voice lowered, “A tree crushed him, shattering his body like porcelain. The village healers did what they could of course, but none of us realistically expected him to ever walk again” Weald shrugged, “We were wrong. One day he just…got up, and walked out of the house. We couldn’t believe it. At first, mother was overjoyed, we all were, but…the accident had changed him somehow, and he was never quite the same stallion again. The worst of it though was that he’d lost the ability to work, and that was what hurt him the most. Every day that went by, his heart darkened, little by little. I watched helplessly as a shadow of despondency spread over my family, sucking the life out of it, until one day...” He stopped.

“Weald?” The Major leaned forward, placing a hoof on his.

“Ah! Sorry, Major” The Captain shook himself off, “I’ve rambled on too much. Combination of the brandy, salt and your wonderful company.” He gave her a wink, “Your bad influence must be rubbing off on me!”

Wild shook her head, “My bad influence? Says the…”

“-Captain Weald, Major Wild…” The voice, so level and confident, had a note of urgency to it that made their hearts leap. As one, the two officers looked round to face the Colonel. He was standing stock still, staring out into the darkness,

“…get to your posts. Everypony to arms and formation. Quickly, if you please.”

************************

Colonel Fulminata walked steadily through the blackened forest. The stink of burnt wood mingled with the familiar reek of death. Charred and mangled corpses littered what was left of the forest floor, the bodies contorted into bizarrely twisted shapes from the intense heat. He barely noticed. ‘War took no prisoners, it asked no quarter and it gave none’. They were words his father had taught him, and his father before him, no doubt travelling much farther back, right to the beginning of his peoples’ history. It was a bitter lesson for any foal to learn.

They moved in silence, walking rather than flying as was their way. Wings took you where you needed to go, but in battle they were a liability and in close order formations, cohesion was essential. Every thestral knew their place, each trusting the warrior beside them and by the goddess, they would carry this day. The Colonel shook his mane, his yellow eyes shining like lanterns in the gloom of the forest. He would see the mettle of this ‘pony’ army commander for himself. There would be no more sitting on the hillside, no more watching and waiting. No, the time had come. His scouts however had given him scant information on the enemy disposition. From what he’d been able to gather, the Celestian pegasi were operating in teams, using the clouds or tree tops for cover, ambushing any attempt at reconnaissance. Several scouts had failed to report in, and that had only confirmed his suspicions; they were waiting for them. It wasn’t a surprise really, the enemy held good ground and retreating would give Nightmare Moon’s forces the chance to catch up and take them piecemeal. No, this is what Fulminata himself would have done. He couldn’t fault the Celestian commander for that.

The survivors of the initial attack, the few that remained, had reported that the ground before the edge of the forest had been ranged for archers. Fortunately, it didn’t appear the Celestians had any artillery to speak of. Unfortunately for the Legion, neither did they. The forest was simply too dense, the road too rutted and muddy to allow the passage of anything wider than a cart and it would have been simplicity itself for the pegasi to attack them there. One cart stuck and that would have been it. Fulminata nodded to himself. It was much better to keep them safe by the camp for when he could employ them effectively. With a warning whistle, a scout appeared out of the shadows and nodded respectfully to him. There were no salutes here, not this close to the enemy. The Colonel bobbed his head,

“Report”

“Colonel”, the scout began, “The enemy have massed what appears to be the Royal Guard in the centre of the line, roughly central to the ridge. There are two divisions either side with archers and magic users arrayed to the front for ranged defence.” He shook his head, “We can’t say for sure, but it would appear they have one division in reserve. They look to be young troops.”

“Defences?” Fulminata asked.

“Yes, Sir. From what we could see, the Celestian’s have set up sharpened stakes to break up attacks at intervals across the field.”

The Colonel nodded, “Good work, get back to your unit.”

Nodding, the scout vanished from sight, his dark coat and black armour blending into the surroundings like a shadow. The veteran warrior sank to his haunches and took out his canteen as several of his officers trotted up to wait respectfully for their orders. Taking his time, the Colonel took a deep breath and cricked his neck, blowing a blast of smoke out from his nostrils. His tail lashed from side to side as he thought, going over his plans and the few options he had left. Finally, he stood up, the others watching him silently, expectantly.

Dozens of pairs of burning eyes, bright with the fire in their hearts, watched the Colonel as he turned to face them,

“Form the spear points. We’ll drive them into the enemy and send their souls screaming to the nether world.”

The officers nodded, hurrying off to their respective commands. No more words needed to be spoken now. He knew them, he trusted them, they were the best the Withers could offer. Many of them would die this night, to lie beneath an alien sky as they breathed their last. It pained him, but it was the way of things. The wheel turned; life transitioning into death as surely as night followed day. It was the way of things.

Gradually, the soft rumble of hooves died away.

It was time.

The Colonel lifted his hoof, the signallers lifting their signal trumpets over their shoulders, watching him, waiting. A moment later, the whole forest shook with the blasts of dozens of horns sounding the advance of the largest thestral army Equestria had ever seen. Tribes from the Beyond, the Purple Sands, the Broken Cliff, and more, many more, all began marching as one. The very air about them trembled, the terrible sight of the burnt dead forgotten. It was a time for battle, for war, and the thestral’s were born for it.

They emerged, smoke curling from their muzzles, eyes blazing, out into the open field. Thousands strong, formed into great dense triangular elements, each one a ‘point of the spear’, designed to punch through enemy formations and drive into their ranks opening up their flanks to attack. The warriors of the moon, Nightmare Moon’s Legion from the Wither World, advanced.

*******************

“Major…” The Colonel’s voice was calm and reassuring.

Wild walked up beside him, waiting patiently, “Sir?”

“Signal the archers.”

“Yes, Sir”

Major Wild raised her hoof. A lightly armoured pony nearby nodded in response and raised her bow. The archer dipped her arrow into a pot of glowing embers, igniting the small amount of composition on the arrow head, and aimed. The creak of the bowstring sounded unnaturally loud in the darkness on the ridge, as if each pony was holding their breath, not daring to move even a muscle in case it broke the spell. The archer steadied her bow, controlling her breathing, and loosed.

The arrow found its mark. Initially smouldering, the pitch and combustible resins coating the piles of wood quickly began to catch light. On cue, the sky above lit with hundreds of burning arrows like orange fireflies hissing through the air. One by one, the piles of wood began to light. Agonisingly slowly, the fires began to take hold, the flickering yellow light gradually illuminating parts of the field, hi-lighting…

“Damn it, they’re nearly on us!”

The Colonel turned to the Major, “Now! Give them everything we’ve got!”

The archers began loosing volley after volley into the darkness, eliciting occasional clanks and hisses of the ‘things’ coming ever nearer. Metallic ‘pings’ and ‘clanks’ echoed around them, the feeling of tension, of presence, was now so tangible it was an all but physical presence. Everypony, each and every one of them, waited for the inevitable.

As the tide goes out before the tsunami, the world drew a breath. The near silence was deafening, with everypony straining to see into the darkness before them, knowing that at any moment…

The war cry rang out along the thestral lines; loud, clear, and frighteningly alien. To the more experienced amongst the Celestian army, it was a harbinger of battle, but to the already rattled new recruits, it was terrifying. The sound began as a high pitched scream, leading to a long moaning, like the wind through the empty mountain range. Colonel Dray knew it, he’d heard it before. He’d felt the way it chilled you down to your marrow. What pony could not help but feel even the tiniest twinge of fear when hearing that alien cry, knowing that what you faced could be your last moments of life? He gritted his teeth, relieved that he’d left the recruits, for the most part, to the rear. Others, the steadier ones, he’d sent out as skirmishers into the forest to harry the flanks of the enemy. By now, they’d already be engaged, fighting these ‘shadows in the night’.

The wave hit.

Steel clashed against steel all along the line, the thestrals smashing into the massed ponies and driving deeply into their ranks. Warrior fought warrior; sword, axe and spear, cutting, hacking and tearing amidst the maelstrom of pitched battle. Screams and howls merged in one cacophonous sound as the two armies clashed amidst the flash of magic and the hiss of arrows. High above, the pegasi rained downed bolts upon the near invisible enemy, but as packed they were, even a poorly aimed shot would likely find its mark.

Dray grunted with effort, his sword knocking away the first thestral’s blow and replying with a thrust under the creature armour and into its chest. With a hiss of steam from its muzzle, the black coated beast fell, quickly replaced by another just as equally determined and hell bent upon hacking down the enemy of their goddess. Dray didn’t have any such thoughts. He was fighting for his family, his friends, his comrades and his home. Alicorns be damned. They had started this war and it was up to pony hooves, muscle and sheer will to fix the mess they had made of Equestria.

Wild fought beside him, her blade flashing like a glittering cobra, finding the chinks in the enemy’s defences again and again. Damn she was fast! He was glad she was on their side. The Colonel’s guardsponies flanked him, carrying the banner of their division, taking the thestral attack and delivering a storm of death in reply. Sweat beaded Dray’s brow as he fought with them, the effort and strain was beginning to tell already.

“They’re through the first line, Dray!” Wild yelled over the din, “We can’t take much more of this!”

Dray knew it too. Anticipating such tactics by the Legion hadn’t been difficult, he’d seen it employed before, and to deadly effect. Understanding his own troops and their capabilities was something he’d worked on; studied, honed, and then that interfering horses cock had tried to override everything he’d worked for. But he wasn’t here was he? No…no, it was Dray’s battle now. He was the master, the tactician, and he would play this symphony of war as a conductor directs the orchestra,

“Major! Give the signal, NOW!”

The horns were barely heard above the clamouring mass of equinity. Dray’s heart leaped. Had it worked? Maybe they hadn’t heard it? Another thestral crashed through the guards, heading straight for him. He dodged, hacking at the things legs, his blade glancing off its armour and barely avoiding having his skull cleaved by the huge glittering axe the beast wielded. Pain lanced down his flank and he grunted with the effort of not crying out. Without pause, he rammed the hilt of his sword into the beast’s muzzle. Dodging back, he caught sight of a guard’s halberd thrusting up into the thestral’s throat. He’d thank her later.

Seconds passed, the horns blowing again, and then the building pressure suddenly broke, the thestrals charging through the gaps in the line. Now, the horns blew a different note. Now, the real carnage would begin.

The thestrals surged on, their lines broken up by the sudden reformation of the pony ranks. Attempting to maintain cohesion, they found themselves suddenly faced with another line and yet more ponies. They’d beaten the first, the second was next, and it was all that stood in their way, their path to the princess’s castle and the desire of their goddess. Letting out their terrible war cry, the black mass of armoured beasts surged on.

**********************

“Keep pushing, don’t let up!” Fulminata’s axe snarled through the air, smashing through the golden armour of the pony before him. These weren’t like the ones they’d faced before, the frightened inexperienced foal soldiers that had been sent to face them. It had been like slaughtering lambs; pitiable really, even cruel. This however…now this was war! The fallen pony was quickly replaced with another, its spear thrusting, catching on the Colonel’s armour and glancing off. Kicking the pony in the chest, Fulminata ducked the next thrust and responded with a blow of his own that the Celestian somehow, amazingly, knocked away. The impact though had smashed the fellows spear, but he was already drawing his sword and lunged with a savage thrust that would have gone straight into the Colonels throat.

Fulminata grinned. The pony was good, but not quite good enough. His axe came up in a deadly arc, twisting like a snake in the air and caught the golden armoured warrior under the shoulder, taking him to the ground in a spray of gore. Almost immediately, his fellow pulled him back and replaced him with another. The Colonel laughed, his tail swishing furiously. If he lived, he would remember this night, the first night he had felt challenged since coming to this land. But it would be over soon enough. The ponies had been clever, setting those fires to light the field, but tricks would only get you so far. It was axe and sword that be the deciding factor here this night.

Around him, his warriors pushed on and then, to his surprise, suddenly melted through the pony lines like water through a broken dam. Surging around him, the Legion flowed past the now isolated pockets of Celestians. This was unexpected; to break through so soon. They were weakened certainly, he knew that, but this was…

Something was wrong. He could sense it, the flow of the battle, the feeling of how the art of dealing death should be. The Colonel turned to his signaller,

“Reform! Call the Reform!”

The first notes began to play out and then abruptly stopped. The Colonel turned in time to see the warrior stagger and fall, a bolt through his neck, the pegasi passing low overhead and disappearing into the night. He spat angrily, grabbing one of the warriors while the tide of death rolled on,

“Find a signaller. Tell them to call the Reform. Do you understand?”

The thestral’s eyes glowed brightly, the thrill and adrenalin of war singing through him. His eyes blinked and he nodded,

“Yes, Sir”

Fulminata nodded, clopping the warrior on the shoulder,

“Good! Now go, quickly!”

By the goddess, he hoped it wasn’t too late. His warriors were all but ignoring the pockets of Celestians who had now formed defensive circles, their long years of training taking over. Small isolated pockets of resistance were to be expected and could be dealt with later; reaching the objective and breaking the main force of the enemy was always key. Once that was achieved, victory would be theirs for the taking. But now it looked as if the Celestians had been playing with them, fooling his scouts into thinking their force was smaller than it actually was. The enemy commander must have hidden them in the forest, keeping them there until he knew his adversary would make his move. Fulminata’s scouts had been tricked, their efforts at finding what little information they could glean, now as worthless as a broken lance. He shook his mane, his voice a low whisper,

“Well played my friend, well played…”

Wing Leader Bale appeared from the mass of advancing warriors, beside him a young looking signaller. Nodding to the Colonel, he gave the order and the horn blasted out its urgent sound. Fulminata took a breath and gave a stomp of his hoof,

“Get them back in line, Bale.” He snorted out a jet of smoke, “We’re going in again.”

**********************

Dray wiped the blood away from his forehead. How much of it was his and how much belonged to the enemy didn’t matter, it was all he could do to keep on his hooves. Dear goddesses, how long now? How long before…

“They’re pulling back!”

He grabbed the Major, “No! Heather, they’re reforming, sound the signal for the first line to retreat to the second. We have to move now!”

Each division rapidly began to reform: the thestrals quickly falling back towards their own lines as the Celestians did the same. The deafening roar of the battlefield rapidly abated while the troops of both sides, their enemy now a secondary concern, fell back into their respective formations. Dray glanced up and down his lines. The veteran soldiers knew their craft well and moved with a measured pace until, once more, they faced their foes.

Snorts and neighs mixed with the background clatter of armour and weapons, their equine bearers shifting beneath the weight. Dray envied them. For him, the weight of duty, of responsibility for the thousands of lives both here and the rest of Equestria, was far weightier than any armour or sword. Should he fail here, there was nothing to stop the legion of the moon flooding in and placing their princess, their ‘goddess’ on the throne. For a moment, for the briefest of heartbeats, he felt a cold rush of doubt…what if Celestia really had been killed? What if she was gone and all this, this death, was futile after all? Couldn’t he save them all by simply surrendering the army? They could all go home, all of them.

Shaking away the thought with a loud snort, Dray stomped his hoof on the ground and gritted his teeth. He’d be damned if he’d surrender to that…that thing, Nightmare Moon. But most of all, he had to fight, not for Celestia, Luna or any of the nobility, it was for the common pony; the worker, the farmer, the mothers, the fathers, the old and young alike. It was all for them, the ones whose voices were never heard, whose cries were like a scream in a thunderstorm. Dray narrowed his eyes, staring across the field at the thestrals, the black mass of warriors who would bring darkness to this land. He thought of his home, his family and the farm he grew up on. They were the ponies whose words meant nothing to these creatures, not even to his own rulers. No. This day, in this battle and every battle to come…he would be their voice, he would bear their heart unto the enemy and use their strength to drive their foe from this purest of lands.

Dray turned to Wild, the Major looking back at him, worn but confident.

He smiled.

Chapter Nine - Friends Old and New

CHAPTER NINE

FRIENDS OLD AND NEW

The thestral war cry shrieked out across the ridge, shaking the leaves in the trees and rippling the dark banners that snapped in the breeze above the army of the goddess. The great bonfires set by the Celestians outlined their enemy’s terrifying skeletal forms, emphasising their spiked armour, the great axes and the wicked war scythes that they wielded to such deadly effect. A mass of burning eyes shone in the darkness, each warrior knowing their task, each knowing their fellow would do theirs.

Across from them, the Celestian army waited in silence while in the distance a fox barked, the lonely sound an eerie counterpoint to the blood chilling cry of the thestral. A heartbeat later, the great symphony of war began once again and the Legion surged forward, smashing into the Celestian lines with their entire force. In the night sky, the aerial warriors fought their own battle as flying creatures of all kinds: pegasi, griffins, hippogriffs, creatures few had ever known even existed let alone seen before, darted between the clouds, diving and weaving, raining down missiles onto the mass below.

Locked in the furious battle for the ridge, few cared about what was happening above their heads, nor had the time to look. The enemy was before them and a much more immediate and tangible threat than some possible flying beast you could do nothing about. These enemies you could see, you could hear, and you could fight. Axes swung, swords and spears thrust and stabbed; the cries and howls of war a never ending cacophony of terror and death that made communication nigh on impossible.

The beleaguered Celestian army held their ground. Dray’s lines surged and heaved with the enormous press of warriors coming at them with unbridled murderous ferocity. His warriors were doing well, but tiring quickly. The guard were holding their own as he expected, but his veteran divisions, already tired from the engagement at the river, were reaching their limit. Around him, everypony fought shoulder to shoulder, the dead piling up rapidly on both sides. Goddesses, they couldn’t take much more of this! A messenger charged up, pushing her way through the mass,

“Sir! Lieutenant Sands’ division requests reinforcements!”

A spear appeared over the shoulder of one of the guards ponies, glancing noisily off the Colonel’s helmet. Quickly, he pushed forward and rammed his sword into his thestral assailant’s face, the jarring impact as steel met bone barely even felt now. Gurgling, the beast fell back into the mass of its fellows.

“Damn it!” Dray spat angrily. He didn’t want to use the reserve yet, those young ponies didn’t deserve to be thrown back into the meat grinder of war, but if he didn’t do something quickly, if Sands’ division broke, none of them would be safe. He shook his mane and snarled back at the messenger,

“Go to Captain Pie and tell her to send in the reserve. She knows what to do.”

“Yes, Sir!” The messenger saluted and rushed off to deliver the Colonel’s orders.

“Goddesses” Dray murmured under his breath, “If ever we needed you, it’s now. I don’t know if you exist or not, but if you do…” He swung up, deflecting another blow and bucked his hooves up into the thestral’s jaw, “…get off your furry fat arses and lend a hoof!”

***************************

“Colonel, the Celestians are buckling on the right of the line.”

This was it! The chance he’d wanted, the one he’d prayed for and the goddess had answered!

“BALE!” Fulminata shouted over the din, the younger officer quickly pushing in to await orders,

“Sir?”

The Colonel took a deep breath, “Signal our air units to concentrate on the Celestian right. Throw everything they’ve got at them, you understand?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“We keep the pressure up along the front, but if their right folds, you are not, I repeat you are NOT to pursue.” The older warriors yellow eyes flare brightly, “Do you understand Wing Leader?”

“Yes, Sir. Understood.”

Nodding, the Colonel returned to his command, his aide-de-camp watching him and waiting for any orders. He didn’t have to wait long as the grizzle veteran clopped him on the shoulder,

“Send a message to Commander Dunn. He is to bring in his division and support the push on the Celestian right.”

The aide nodded, barely keeping the knowing smile from his lips,

“Yes, Sir”

Fulminata could sense it. It wouldn’t be long now. The Celestians were tiring, their troops lacking in battle experience and stamina. He didn’t have the luxury of his artillery this time, and he had a distinct lack of air superiority with the absence of the dragons and wendigo, but in the darkness, the night of the princess, the thestral had the advantage. Dunn’s division had taken casualties from the first engagement of course, but their brute strength and aggression could still turn the tide of a battle and he needed that now.

Wing Leader Bale reappeared, “Orders delivered, Colonel, and Dunn’s division are coming up through the forest.” He cleared his throat, giving his superior an inscrutable look, “I thought they were defending the artillery?”

The Colonel grinned, thin wisps of smoke curling up from between his sharp teeth. The tide was turning. He could feel it now, they were close, so, so close. He raised an eyebrow, gazing up at the stars above,

“I changed my mind.”

An almost imperceptible shift in the flow of the battle gave him heart. His warriors could sense it too; they were taking ground, moving past the defences, forcing the Celestians back more and more.

“Great goddess” Bale murmured, his voice almost lost in the roaring sound around them, “We’re winning.”

“Yes…” The Colonel breathed, hefting his axe, “We are.”

*******************

“If you’ve got another rabbit in that hat of yours, Dray, now’s the time” Wild took the blow on her sword, twisting it away with a grunt, “We can’t hold out much longer like this!”

Dray gritted his teeth. She was right. The fatigue and stress of battle, fighting in nearly complete darkness against creatures that looked like they’d jumped straight out of the pages of a horror story was all pushing them towards breaking point. There was no more reserve, no chance to catch the breath. The thestrals were out for blood and there was little more he could do now than keep fighting and hope the enemy would eventually begin to tire. He shook his mane. He knew the Legion, and knew too that there was little chance of them simply pulling back now. As much as it pained him, there was realistically only one thing he could do…

“Major Wild…”

The red mare backed up beside her officer, “Colonel?”

Dray closed his eyes. In the months since the war had begun, in all the battles, it seemed all they’d ever done was fall back. Backwards, ever backwards, giving up more and more of their precious ground, ground soaked with the blood of his brothers and sisters, ground that these merciless invaders had stolen inch by agonising inch. Goddesses damn them all! Wasn’t there something, anything that could give them hope? He took a breath, looking Wild in the eye,

“Sound the retr…”

The first explosion hit them like the open door of a furnace, the hot wind rolling out along with a bright green flash that left a vivid afterimage in his vision. The thump of the magical detonation made their ears ring, drowning out the howls of the warriors who were being blasted into fragments only yards away.

Another blast, another and another, a string of explosions, each as devastating as the last was rolling inexorably along just behind the thestral line, blowing pieces of the armoured creatures down amongst the combatants like some unholy rain.

Dray ducked as a large piece of quivering flesh flew over his head to land only a few inches behind him. He blinked, looked up, and stood in open mouthed amazement at the image of something…something huge, something that shouldn’t, couldn’t, be there, and yet there it was, gliding effortlessly away into the night. For a second he stared up at the impossible sight, its sails billowed out in the evening breeze and timbers creaking as it banked away. He’d heard of them, but never seen one in all his years,

“Sky galleon…” he muttered.

“SIR! What do we do now?” Wild’s face appeared in front of him, breaking the spell and bringing him back to face the horrors of reality. The Colonel looked about at the ponies around him, at their tired and worn faces. Even the wounded were in the fight now. The Legion however had been hit, and hit hard. Whatever, or whoever their mysterious allies were, they had given them the chance they needed, but there was no realistic chance for a counterattack now. Now, they could only stand their ground in a battle of attrition or fall back. A pony beside him faltered, his hind legs buckling from sheer exhaustion. Without complaint, the young stallion looked at him for a moment, nodded, and pushed determinedly back into the line. Dray’s mind was made up,

“We fall back.”

The Major was incensed, “WHAT?!”

“We’re exhausted Major.” The Colonel said, roughly wiping his muzzle, “The ponies are dead on their hooves and if we stay here we will lose. The Legion are wounded, but they’ll just keep coming until we’re ground down. I’ve seen it before. We have to take this opportunity, while they’re confused, to save the army and wait until we can fight on our terms, rested and ready.”

Wild gritted her teeth, “Damn it, Dray, I know! I just don’t like…” She neighed, “Your orders?”

“Disengage. All divisions to fall back facing their front and to keep formation. Let the enemy have this damned ridge,” Dray’s eyes narrowed, “we’ve bled enough for one day.”

*********************

“Woohoo!” The white stallion cried out, “That was amazing! Did you see that?”

“Incredibly, yes, I did see that”, Stock grumbled, “I also saw most of our trade goods going over the side.”

Chalk frowned, “Trade goods?”

The mint green mare from earlier trotted over, “Aye. We fought good and hard for that lot, and now its all gone, and for what?” She locked her striking purple eyes onto Chalk Dust’s, “Celestians, Legion, we shouldn’t be taking sides”.

“But…” Chalk stammered, “You’re ponies too, Equestrian’s like me. Nightmare Moon’s army are…”

“-It’s not our war” the mare cut in, “It’s your war, yours and those bloody ‘Celestians’ or whatever you call yourselves.”

Sinking onto his haunches, Chalk hung his head in confusion. Whether it was as a result of his fatigue and injuries or he was simply misreading the situation, he couldn’t say,

“So…” He began, “What…who are you?”

The green mare glowered at him, “We’re…”

“-Free traders” A sleek red leg reached out, laying a hoof on the mare’s shoulder. Gretel, enigmatic Captain of this strange assortment of ponies, stepped up, “I like to think of us more as ummm….” She waved a hoof looking for the word, “entrepreneurs,”

“You’re…pirates?” Chalk blurted, quickly receiving hard stares in response.

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say ‘Pirates’, my pale friend,” Gretel smiled, “let’s just say we’re ‘forward thinking wealth redistribution specialists’” She leaned forward, her voice lowering ever so slightly, “So we don’t need to think too hard about this any more now do we?”

Chalk’s eyes went wide as the Captain loomed over him, “Uh, no Cap’n!” he squeaked.

Gretel gave him a wink, “Good lad”

A voice called out from the deck, “Coming up on our destination, Cap’n” it was Haggis, the helmspony.

Gretel smiled, “Excellent.”

“Destination?”

“Oh yes. Somepony owes us money, and I intend to collect what’s ours.” The Captain checked her sword and adjusted her hat, “Everypony on this crew earns their keep, Mister Chalk. Since Doc’s patched you up, I take it you’ll be joining us?”

Chalk swallowed. The funny tasting potion and salves had worked miracle, and it was a long walk back home through Legion infested lines...at night. Besides, Gretel was strangely appealing, in her own way. He smiled,

“Of course, Cap’n.” He tried to strike a stallionly pose, “You look like you could do with a unicorn on the crew.”

The mint green mare sniffed, “That’s all we need!”

“Belay that, Cyclone,” Gretel said, waving a hoof dismissively, “you of all ponies should know I won’t have any of ‘that’ on board my ship!”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n”

The mare, Cyclone, walked away, glancing over her shoulder and giving Chalk a strange look; one that promised a quick trip over the side if he stepped even a hair out of line. She didn’t like him, that was blatantly clear, and even some of the other crewponies had been…’evasive’ around him. ‘Still’, he thought to himself positively, it was probably because he was the new colt on the team and the Captain seemed, at least a little, to find him ‘interesting’. Hopefully, she would continue to do so, or else…it was a long way down.

“Take us down, Mister Haggis.”

Gretel leaned over the railing calling down to the peculiar helmspony. ‘Mister Haggis’ was a piebald stallion with a short silver mane, an equally short tail and the most peculiar eyes Chalk had ever seen. Whenever the helmspony caught him stealing a glance, he would stare back with those large pink and blue orbs and grin expansively. Chalk shuddered. He knew it was rude to stare, and goddesses knew he drew more than enough attention because of his own colouring but…those eyes!

The ship began to descend slowly, and surprisingly gracefully considering how dark it was, until the vessel alighted with barely a whisper upon a thickly grassed clearing surrounded by dense trees. Quickly, the gangplank was run out and the ponies organised into teams; the main one to stay with the ship on watch and the other two to go with the Captain. Crossbows were passed around, included hatchets and swords. No armour though, only black cloaks; they would be travelling light and fast. Before he could stop to ask what was going on, they were off, disappearing into the darkness of the woodland and heading towards what looked like lamplights in the distance.

Chalk tried his best to stay alongside Gretel, but in the darkness it was hard to keep track of who was who with them all wearing the black cloaks. It was fully dark now, the stars above no longer any unnatural conjuring of Nightmare Moon, or was it? Chalk shook the thought from his mind. Inside, his emotions and thoughts were a jumbled mess of surprise, fright and elation; all of it coming together and blending into a calm acceptance that his course in life had brought him to this, if rather strange, point. He was alive, at least for now, and if nothing else it was one hell of a starting point. Maybe later he’d have a chance to try and digest what had happened today. Today…was it really only one day since he’d been stood in the line at River Valley?

The pony before him stopped suddenly. Back peddling rapidly, it was all Chalk could do to avoid slamming into him…or her. A snigger beside him made him hang his head. Thank the goddesses they couldn’t see him blush in this light, his ears and cheeks felt like they were burning.

“Stock” Gretel whispered, “That the one?”

“Aye, three guards from what I saw last time. Looks to be about the same now.”

“Right” The cloaked figure turned, “Chalky, you can lift things with that magic of yours, right?”

“Y..yes, I can,” Chalk stammered, “but…”

Gretel clucked her tongue, “Can you or can’t you? Simple question.”

“Yes, Cap’n”

She nodded, “Good, then you’re with me.”

The larger party of cloaked ponies melted away into the night, leaving the Captain, Chalk and one other, slowly creeping up to a lone tent set apart from the others. As with the rest, it was purple, all but invisible in the darkness if it wasn’t for the few lanterns dotted around. As they neared, a shadow played across the side of the canvas wall, the flickering form of a minotaur with its huge sharp horns atop the beast's head, wavering in the low yellow lamplight. Chalk swallowed; why was it always bloody minotaurs?!

Painfully slowly, the three crawled on the bellies, nearing their goal. To Chalk their breathing sounded deafeningly loud, even the grass beneath them whispering noisily as they moved. How could that thing not hear them? Goddesses, they were making so much noise! He could his heart hammering in his chest, certain that huge thing would hear them and at any second, any moment, turn its beady eyes on them and…

Thump.

The minotaur stopped, wavered, and fell forward like a felled tree. Nearby came the muffled sound of two more thumps, and then silence.

“Come on!” Gretel hissed, hurrying forward to the side of the tent. In a trice, she produced a short knife, gripped it in her mouth and rammed it into the canvas, slitting it up just enough for her to slip inside. Chalk followed, nudged from behind by the third pony. Inside, Gretel threw her hood back,

“Look for a small chest, wood with bronze metal fastenings, quickly!”

The three of them moved rapidly through the tent. It was surprisingly spacious, albeit musty, with stocks of small casks of ‘something’, numerous boxes, baskets and who knew what else. A sharp clop on the side of his head brought Chalk out of his wonderment and he went to work, searching for the elusive chest.

The third pony found it first, “Cap’n, I’ve got it”

The not so small box sat atop another larger one, a substantial padlock fixing the lid and…

“Damn it! There’s a bloody chain holding it down.” Gretel hissed, “Bosun, keep a lookout while I fix this.”

Gretel reached back into a small pouch on her belt and deftly removed a rolled up set of long thin pins. Taking one in her mouth, she began probing into the depths of the lock. Chalk watched in amazement, until a pair of purple eyes suddenly loomed into his vision. He squeaked in surprise, taking a step back. The Bosun held her hoof up to his mouth, her brows pulled down in annoyance,

“Shut up, will you!” she hissed, “Someponies coming”

The two of them ducked back, taking position either side of the doorway as the hoof steps approached. In the back of the tent, the Captain continued to work, trusting the two of them to deal with whoever, or whatever, was coming their way. A lantern’s light suddenly illuminated the room, the newcomer ducking slightly as they entered. Unwittingly, the black shape passed right by them in a sort of daze, heading for the pile of small casks. It was if they weren’t even there. Chalk lifted his cudgel but the Bosun was quicker, slamming the heavy wooden lump onto the back of the unsuspecting pony’s head. The black stallion fell to the floor with a leaden thump, his large grey eyes and blue mane catching the light as Chalk caught the fellow’s lantern before it fell.

Chalk’s mouth hung open in surprise, “B…Brack…?”

The Bosun was already pulling the black stallion into the back of the tent as she looked up irritably at the surprised looking unicorn,

“Don’t just stand there, you lubber! Give me a hoof, would you?”

Chalk’s voice cracked as he tried to speak, “But, he…he’s my friend! It’s Bracken!”

A quiet cry of jubilation followed the click of a lock falling open from behind them, Gretel’s face poking around the corner sporting a large grin,

“Got it! Come on, Chalky, I…” Her eyes narrowed, “What’s going on? Who’s he?”

The Bosun rolled her eyes as Chalky held the fallen pony’s head, tears filling his eyes,

“It’s Bracken…my friend, he’s…”

The Bosun threw back her hood, the mint green coat and blue mane a shock of colour in such a drab place, “He’s not dead you idiot” She snarled, “Leave him, we have to go!”

“No!” Chalk snapped, “I won’t! He’s a prisoner like we were!”

“Doesn’t look much like a prisoner to me” Cyclone hissed back, “Stay with him then if you like him that much”

A hoof slammed down between them, the red mare glaring at the two angrily, “Cyclone, we need him to lift that chest. Chalky, you get that thing and I’ll take your friend, deal?”

“Y…yes, Gretel”

Cyclone stepped forward, her eyes flashing dangerously, “Damn it, Cap’n, you can’t be serious! That pony’s a…”

“Belay that, Bosun!” Gretel snapped, “You want to argue, then do it later. Let’s move!”

Chalk balked at the glowering purple eyes that bore into him. The Bosun shook her head but obeyed her Captain regardless, helping lift the fallen Bracken onto the red mare’s strong back. Trotting over to the chest, Chalk concentrated his magic. Almost immediately, sweat began to break out on his forehead….damn it, it was so heavy! Gradually and painfully slowly, he poured more of his energy into the stream of ethereal blue power until the box began to lift up and drifted across to hang suspended before him.

“Bloody hell!” Gretel whispered, “Can’t you turn down the brightness on that? It’s like a blasted lighthouse!”

Chalk blinked, keeping his focus on the chest, “No.”

Cyclone re-appeared from the other side of the tent, “Cap’n, we have to move, I can hear voices coming this way.”

Gretel snorted, “Buck it! Let’s move!”

Slipping out the way they came in, the three, now four, hurried as fast as they could back towards the woods and the safety of the ship. Bracken, mercifully unconscious, bounced helplessly up and down on the Captains back while Cyclone ran alongside watching around them with her big purple eyes. Chalk barely noticed. With the expenditure of magic so soon after the battle, the fight at the ship, and now this…he was sure he was nearing burn out. He’d heard of unicorns who’d pushed themselves too far, going to the brink and beyond, taking that one step too far. And then, then it was all over. No more magic. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it was just rumours and old mares tales, stories to frighten foals into not overexerting themselves. But right then…

A crossbow bolt hissed past his ear, embedding itself in the ground with a dull thud. Chalk shook his mane. He couldn’t stop now, he couldn’t deviate from his course, he had to get this back to the ship! Gretel, the mare who’d helped him, the one who had offered him safety when all around him was going to hell; he would do this, see it through, for her. There was a shriek behind them, a thud, and then Cyclone re-appeared, addressing the Captain breathily, “Got him, but there’s more coming Cap’n. Saw the others too, they’re nearly at the ship.”

“Good work, Bosun” Gretel gasped, labouring under the weight of the unconscious stallion, “Not far to go now, crew.”

It wasn’t. Focussed so intently on the chest, Chalk nearly walked right into the hull of the ship, his magic wavering and then finally winking out. The strain had been too much, the effort overwhelming. With a soft sigh his legs gave out and he toppled over into the outstretched hooves of the Bosun. Looking up, his unfocused vision took in the deep purple eyes, the way her blue mane fell over her forehead and around her ears. She was actually…quite cute…

Author's Note

Edited by JBL

Chapter Ten - Who we are inside

CHAPTER TEN

WHO WE ARE INSIDE

“Oh goddesses, my head!”

Chalk tried to sit up, the room spinning around him horribly as a bolt of pain shot through his body, “Damn it all…”

A neat, shiny black hoof pushed him back down. He followed it up, along the sleek and trim red leg, up the graceful neck, to the large maroon eyes of the yellow haired mare sitting beside the bed.

“Hello sleepy.” Gretel smiled, “We have to stop meeting like this.” She chuckled and reached down, rinsing out a cloth and placing it onto his forehead, “Come on, lie back now. Doc says you need rest to recover your magic and those injuries.” She paused, “I’m sorry, Chalky…I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.” Gretel’s eyes looked distant, as if she were staring into some unknown past.

Chalk smacked his lips, “Cap’n? Could I have some water?”

“Oh!” She exclaimed, jumping slightly, “Of course!”

She passed him a bowl rather than a cup, “Here, Doc says it’s best until your hooves and magic are working properly again.”

“My hooves and magic?” Chalk’s eyes went wide, “Why? What’s…”

Instinctively, he tried to channel a little magic, just the barest trickle. Instantly, pain, white hot are urgent, seared through him. He cried out in agony, gripping the bed sheet and curling up into a ball. Goddesses, the pain! He gasped, choking and coughing as the onslaught gradually began to subside. Slowly, he began to become more aware of his surroundings: the bed, the wood of the cabin wall, the warm mare gently stroking his mane and neck. He froze. What was happening? Who was…?

“Chalky…” The Captains voice was soft, kind and caring, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

He relaxed, the sensation of being stroked was so wonderful, so sensual, he could feel the pain and worries of the world draining away from him as if they simply didn’t exist anymore. Sighing, he let out a low hum of relief,

“That’s nice…”

A warm breath softly caressed Chalk’s ear, travelling down his muzzle to his mouth. He opened his eyes in surprise, taking in the large maroon eyes gazing into his,

“…So is this” Gretel murmured, taking the white unicorn’s muzzle in her hooves and bringing her mouth down to meet his. Her lips, so soft and deliciously warm, pressed against his own. His defenses breached, his soul and heart laid bare, Chalk surrendered to the pirate Captain completely.

*********************

Sunlight filtered through from the ventilation grille high above, bathing the black coated pony in its life giving warmth. Bracken stirred, groaning at the ache coming from the back of his skull. Lifting a foreleg, he held it up to the light, blocking it from shining directly into his eyes. He’s had hangovers before, but this was on a different level altogether. Rolling onto his side, he was taken with a sudden bout of coughing, the dusty environment setting his chest off into a fit of wheezing. It was always the same whenever he stayed in unfamiliar places, at least ones with dust at any rate. Goddesses, his lungs felt like they were on fire!

“There’s water on the table and a parcel of powders for your head.”

The blue pony sitting outside raised an eyebrow as he indicated the items on the rickety furniture that…hang on…’outside’?! Bracken tried to jump up, suddenly finding his limbs held fast by…he took a look…

“Chains?!” He gasped in shock.

The blue pony poked a small pair of pince-nez up his muzzle, “Yes. Try not to move around too much, they’ll chafe your legs.”

“I…” Bracken shook his mane in disbelief, “Let me out, goddess damn you!”

“Any particular one you had in mind?” The pony replied, giving him a meaningful look.

Bracken narrowed his eyes, “Don’t buck me around friend, what’s going on here?”

There was a clatter from above him and a hatchway opened, admitting the shape of a pony outlined in the sunlight. A big beaming grin accompanied the newcomer,

“Ahoy, mate!”

Bracken face hoofed, “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“Nope, it’s really me, and believe me, you aren’t dreaming.” The white coated pony trotted down the steps towards him, sporting several bandages and a vivid scar down the side of his face, “How are you Brack, the Doc taking good care of you?”

Bracken’s mind reeled. The last thing he remembered was going to fetch more wine for…for…who? His mind was such a mess! He groaned, holding his head in his hooves,

“Oh goddesses, Chalky, what the hell’s going on? My head! Buck me sideways I think I’m dying.”

“Not according to the Doc” Chalk chuckled, landing in the chair beside his cell, “Bit of life in the old stallion yet apparently.”

Bracken opened one eye as he lay there, peering out at Chalk. The bars between the two of them were at odds with the stupid grin on his friends face. He snatched up the bowl and took a gulp of water,

“Will you, or somepony, tell me…” He closed his eyes, trying not to scream out in frustration, “What in Celestia’s hairy arse bucking world is going on?!”

Chalk raised his eyebrows, “Keep your mane on, Brack, I’m coming to that.”

“Oh good!”

The white stallion clucked his tongue, “So cynical…”

“Cynical?!” Bracken waved his forelegs in exasperation, “Have you lost your mind? I’m in a bloody cell, in chains, and you’re out there acting like it’s a bloody game!”

Chalk rolled his eyes, “Technically it’s the ‘brig’, but…”

Bracken glared at him.

“Okay, okay!” Chalk held up a hoof in submission, “Sorry, but we had to take precautions.”

“Who’s ‘we’? And what ‘precautions’?” Bracken pushed himself to the side of the bed.

“’We’, as in the Captain and crew of this ship.” Chalk explained, casually scratching his rump, “As for your second question, they’re concerned about where your, um, ‘loyalties’ may lie.”

Bracken’s eyes went wide, “My loyalties?”

“Aye” Chalk said quietly. He gave his friend a half smile, his voice losing the usual comedic edge, “We’re at war Brack, and we found you wandering around the enemy camp like you belonged there. You can’t blame us for being a little ‘suspicious’.”

Bracken’s hoof slammed down on the table, “You hit me on the head!”

Chalk shook his head, “No, the Bosun hit you on the head. Anyway, you can’t blame her really, we thought you were one of the Legion. Who else wanders around Nightmare Moon’s camp at night?”

“Indeed…” Bracken narrowed his eyes at his friend.

“Hoy, hold on! We were there on business!” Chalk protested.

Bracken’s head suddenly throbbed, his thoughts becoming disordered and confused. Why had he been there? He was a soldier in the Celestian army and he was in Nightmare Moon’s camp? Something about being thirsty, needing another…the black mare who… A searing bolt of pain suddenly lanced through him, making him gasp and drop back onto the bed. Chalk Dust leaped off his chair,

“Brack, BRACK! You okay? DOC! I need help here!”

Chalk threw himself at the cell door, pounding on the lock, “Dammit, why’d they take the blasted key?”

“…Because you’d do what you’re trying to do now, you bloody idiot.” The blue pony trotted down the steps, his medical panniers slung over his back. Doc rolled his eyes at the white stallion, producing the key, “Here. Now, I’m going inside but you lock the door behind me and you don’t unlock it unless I tell you, understand?”

“No…Why?” Chalk scratched his head, “That doesn’t make any sense!”

Doc shook his head slowly, mumbling quietly under his breath,

“She always goes for the dim ones…”

Chalk shot him a look that told him he’d heard every word. Shrugging it off, Doc motioned to the door. Reluctantly, Chalk placed the key in the lock, feeling the resistance as it rotated, then pulled it open. The ships doctor walked past him to the stricken Bracken, placing his bags beside him. Doc pushed his spectacles up his nose and peered down at his patient, humming. A few minutes passed before he nodded to himself and opened the panniers.

“What’s up with him, Doc?”

Doc didn’t look up, “My guess would be a memory overwrite spell, maybe a blocker of some kind. Hard to tell” He began taking out various strange looking instruments, “Magical maladies and spells are a particular field of medicine more suited to unicorns. I’m more practiced in physical medicine.”

“So, can you help him?” Chalk asked pushing up against the bars.

“Maybe…” Doc murmured, “I need to see what’s going on first.”

The blue stallion produced a small brass band from a slim rosewood box, placing the odd contraption on his head. Tapping it with his hoof, the device clicked and a small glass lens flipped down. Tiny lights, almost imperceptible at first, began to glow around the band.

“What’s that for?” Chalk asked, pressing himself into the bars for a closer look.

Doc sighed, “Do you have an interest in becoming a medical pony, Mister Dust?”

Chalk stepped back, “Um…”

“Then shut up and let me work!” Doc snapped, glaring back at him. The white unicorn hung his head and sat back on his haunches, watching, but keeping his mouth closed. ‘Just like the Doctor ordered’, Doc thought to himself. He sighed. Chalk wasn’t a bad pony, or stupid, just…painfully inquisitive! He probably would make a good medic if he applied himself, but that incessant questioning! The blue pony shrugged; at least he was quiet now and he could get on with his work in peace. Taking a breath he leaned over the black stallion,

“Can you hear me?”

Bracken’s voice was a bare whisper, “…yes…”

“What’s your name, soldier?”

“e...ebony…br…bracken…”

“Alright Bracken, I want you to open your eyes. Can you do that for me?” Doc held his patient’s head in his hooves as Bracken’s eyes opened slowly. He was clearly in a lot of pain, the light affecting him far more than it should do.

“Photosensitivity…” Doc muttered, staring down into the pony’s eyes, “Pupils dilated.”

He lay a damp cloth across bracken’s forehead, “Here, that will help with the headache.”

The Doctor rummaged in his pannier and withdrew a stethoscope. Listening to Brackens chest, he nodded to himself; it sounded clear. More checks revealed the black pony’s temperature was up slightly, but there was no sign of any injury whatsoever. The aether spectrometer was showing ‘something’, but specifically what, it was hard if not impossible to tell. One thing was for certain though, there was a spell at play here, and it was dug deep.

The hatchway opened, admitting the sleek red form of the Captain. She trotted up to Chalk, giving him a playful nudge before observing her medical officer at work.

“Any thoughts, Doc?” She asked quietly.

Doc shook his head, “I’m going to try something.” He leaned down into a bag and lifted out a box. Clicking the latches open, a peculiar cantilevered device popped up. A few clicks and adjustments later, Doc attached it to Bracken’s head. Multicoloured gems set into the contraption quickly began to glow and throb with light while the blue pony worked, the room quickly becoming a fascinating kaleidoscope of colour. Without even thinking, Chalk reached out and found the Captain’s hoof, holding it for comfort. Gretel smiled at him warmly; the young pony was so innocent, despite everything he’d been through, but she could understand how he felt. She’d seen ponies she cared about in far worse shape than this black stallion. She leaned into him and gave him a reassuring nuzzle. No, seeing somepony you cared about suffering and not being able to help them…it never got any easier. She closed her eyes. It didn’t hurt any less.

Doc’s voice sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet of the brig, “You were with the army at river valley, Bracken.”

“…yes…” The black stallion’s voice sounded as if it were coming from a long way off.

Doc adjusted the device, “What happened?”

There was a long pause and then Brackens voice came back, distant, hollow,

“Killing…so much death…the minotaurs, Captain Spark…they…they…”

“It’s alright Bracken, you’re with friends now. You’re safe.” Doc wiped Bracken’s neck with a damp cloth, “Were you hurt?”

“…yes, I…I think so…” His voice was barely more than the faintest whisper, “Something hit me…I was…dying…”

Chalk gasped, squeezing his eyes shut and pressed into Gretel.

“They…she…she took me in…”

“She?” Doc asked, adjusting the device, “Who was she?”

Bracken’s face suddenly changed, a strange wistful smile appearing on it as if all his pain and distress had simply melted away, “She? The only one…the only one…” He gave a soft laugh, “None come close…so beautiful, so…”

“What’s her name?” Doc asked.

“Her…name?” Bracken slowly began to sit up, “You know her name…” Doc moved back hurriedly.

“YOU KNOW HER NAME!”

In a sudden flurry of legs, Bracken lunged for the Doctor. The blue stallion backed away just in the nick of time as the hooves of his patient flailed at him,

“Open the door!” Doc shouted, “Quick!”

Chalk flung the cell door open, helping the doctor scramble through before slamming it shut and clicking the lock into place. Doc span round, sweat beading his brow.

“What the hell was that?!” The Captain barked, “Doc?”

Taking a deep breath, her medical officer tried to compose himself. Doc pushed his spectacles back up his muzzle and adjusting his mane,

“It’s a blocking spell alright, and a nasty one at that.”

“What’s that do?” Chalk asked, his eyes wide with shock, “Can’t you do something? Look at the state of him!”

Gretel placed a hoof on his shoulder, calming him down. Doc shook his head in dismay,

“I wish I could. I said before I’m not an expert in magical maladies and this is very much in that category I’m afraid. Whoever had put it in there has blocked part of Bracken’s memory; locked it away so to speak. Any attempt to access it or make him recall that particular ‘time’, has the sort of consequences you’ve seen here.”

Chalk stared at his friend who’d collapsed back onto the bed, his eyes shut and his breathing slowing. He looked so peaceful, like he was sleeping,

“Can’t we do something Doc? We can’t leave him like that.”

Gretel watched the black pony, and addressed the doctor,

“I’m inclined to agree Doc, we can’t just leave him in that state. Any suggestions?”

Doc held his hoof up to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, “Yes. Don’t speak to him about what happened between being captured and when you found him.” He sighed, “I’m sorry Gretel, I wish I could do more, but this is high end magic we’re talking about here.” He raised an eyebrow at Chalk, “What you need, is a unicorn.”

Chalk gave the Doctor a sarcastic grin as the blue pony headed for the ladder. Putting his hoof on the bottom step, Doc turned back,

“Gretel? Can I have a word?”

The Captain nodded, laying a hoof on Chalk’s shoulder,

“Chalky, stay with your friend and keep him company. I’ll go and see what Doc wants.”

Chalk smiled at her sadly, watching her disappear up the steps and the hatchway close behind her. The interior fell silent, other than for Bracken’s laboured breathing. He’d never seen him like this: so weak, so tired. Bracken’s face too, looked pale and worn. Whatever he was going through, or had been through, had aged him frighteningly. Chalk reached through the bars,

“Brack? Don’t worry, you’re going to be alright. I’m here for you, old friend.”

His words sounded empty even to him. He didn’t know if the black stallion would recover, hell, he didn’t even know what was wrong with him in the first place! In frustration Chalk leaned his head up against the bars. He’d never felt so helpless, not since that incident at the school all those years ago. The memory of it still haunted him even now. Some nights, what happened replayed through his dreams as if he were actually there, reliving it all again and again. Occasionally, the dream ponies would change, sometimes the words, the place where it happened, but it was always the same outcome. Chalk stared down at his hooves. They were clean now, but then, by Celestia, he thought he’d never get them clean. The stains had been in his fur for weeks, the smell lingering on his hooves. Only Bracken, his dearest and truest friend, had stood by him. He’d always been there for him; he was his strength and support when he felt alone and empty inside. Now, after all these years, Bracken needed him, and there was nothing Chalk could do. He took a shuddering breath and sighed it out, his hooves digging painfully into his haunches to try and keep himself from breaking down,

“Bracken, I…I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do…I’m sorry…” Chalk wiped his face with his foreleg and squeezed his eyes shut, “You’re my best friend, my only friend really and I can’t do anything for you. Luna buck me, I just don’t know what to do.”

“Luna…” Bracken’s lips barely moved, the word lost in the turmoil of his friend’s grief.

“You’ve always been there, Brack, and I want to be here for you too, I…” Chalk sighed, kicking a wooden bucket in frustration, “Damn it all!” He leaned back on the chair, staring up at the ceiling, “You know, I remember the first time I met you and your folks, dropping off that wooden handle for the pitchfork your dad had made for Mister Peardrop. Miserable old sod he was too, bitching and moaning about the price. He bloody well knew how much it was before he collected it too!” Chalk laughed, “We got him though…got him good.”

“I’ll say,” a croaking voice replied, “took two ponies to pull him out of the privy after that”

“BRACK!”

Chalk’s head whipped round to see Bracken sipping the water from his bowl, his eyes still bloodshot. Bracken looked up at him blearily,

“I can hear you droning on and on you know. I’m not dead.” The black stallion lifted his hoof to his forehead, “But I’m beginning to wonder…buck me, my head’s killing me!”

Chalk pressed up against the bars,

“Mix the powder in with the water, Doc says it’ll help with the headaches.” He smiled broadly, his eyes gleaming, “Thank the goddesses you’re alright dude, I thought…”

Bracken looked up at his friend,

“-Bloody hell, Chalky, I was only speaking to you a minute ago!” He groaned, reaching up to his head, “I don’t know who hit me, but they nearly knocked my bloody head off.” Bracken’s eyes peered up at his friend, “It wasn’t you was it?”

The grinning white unicorn waved his hooves in the air, “No!”

“Ah, good” Bracken said, sitting up and propping himself into the corner of the brig, “Care to tell me why I feel like I’ve got a hole in my brain the size of Celestia’s arse?”

********************

Gretel sank into her padded swivel chair and reached for the bottle of brandy,

“Doc?”

He waved it off with a hoof, “No thanks Gretel, you know I don’t drink”

She sniffed, “Always thought that was a bit odd you know, a sailing pony that doesn’t drink.” She knocked back the brandy in one slug, “Keeps the colds at bay, you know.”

The blue coated doctor pulled up a chair and lowered himself into it, closing his eyes with a sigh, “I never thought I’d be so glad to be back on board the old girl, Gretel”, he took out a long stemmed pipe from a pouch around his neck, “Mind if I smoke?”

Gretel shook her head and poured herself another drink, “I’ll admit” she said distantly, “for a while, I didn’t think we’d get out of there. The Legion isn’t exactly noted for being merciful.”

“Damn that Chips!” Doc said around his pipe, “If he’d kept his bloody mouth shut, we’d have been sitting pretty right now.”

Gretel shrugged, “True, but then our hosts didn’t exactly force drink down this neck.” She leaned back, stretching her forehooves, “Or any of us for that matter.”

The doctor harrumphed, “That stuff should have come with a health warning. ‘Just one’? Right! I was curious what it actually was, but now I think we’re all better off not knowing.”

Gretel sniggered, “Well, that’s true. Anyway, you wanted to speak to me about something. I expect it’s to do with our new guest?”

It was a subject Doc didn’t want to broach, but Gretel was a very open leader, sharing everything, or at least ‘most things’, with the crew. This time however, she seemed different somehow, more ‘happy’, if that made sense. Normally a very level headed mare, her encounter with that unicorn had obviously had an impact. Whether it would affect her ability to make rational decisions remained to be seen. Pushing his spectacles up his muzzle, he took a draw on the pipe and let out the smoke slowly,

“Gretel, that black stallion is trouble,” he looked her in the eye, “serious trouble.” The Captain waited, watching Doc patiently tamp his tobacco down before he continued, “Somepony has been put a spell deep inside him that they don’t want anypony to find.”

“The memory blocker you mentioned.” Gretel said quietly.

Doc nodded, “That’s part of it, but there was something more. You saw the way he reacted when I tried to probe for more information. Just before he began shouting, the aether spectrometer registered a pulse of magic on a wavelength I’ve never seen before; certainly not of that magnitude.”

Gretel leaned on her foreleg, “Just for a minute Doc, can you assume I ‘don’t’ know much about magic pulses, spectro-thingies and…whatever else it was you just said?”

He nodded, “Ah, apologies.” Doc cleared his throat, “Whoever put the spell inside him, has magic more powerful than anything I’ve ever seen. Now, I’m no expert, but I’ve seen my share of infiltration magic over the years, but this is on a whole new level.”

This didn’t sound good. One of the reason’s Doc was such a valued member of the crew was that he was versed in detecting spells used by their rivals and enemies. She trusted his judgement implicitly. When the Doc said it was serious, she had to take note. Gretel sipped her brandy thoughtfully,

“Doc, is he a risk to my ship?”

The blue coated officer scrubbed his mane, “I don’t know for sure Gretel, but I’ll tell you this: If somepony went to the trouble of embedding such an intricate spell into that fellow, then you’d think they’d want to know where he is, right?”

“Tracker?”

“Not like the ones we’ve seen before, no” Doc replied, “but I think it would be safe to assume there probably is one.”

Gretel gritted her teeth, “Damn it…”

“When do we make next port?” Doc asked.

“Not soon enough. We’ll have to divert to Spurs Anvil, and I don’t like it one bit.” The Captain motioned to a point on the map, “That dump’s run by that bloody mobster, Hay Wain, but I won’t endanger my ship for anypony, Doc.”

“The white unicorn’s not going to like it, Gretel. I know you and he…”

Gretel fixed the doctor with a hard stare, ““-not anypony, Doc. Do I have to say it again?”

Doc shook his head, “No.”

Gretel gazed absently into her brandy, watching the golden liquid swirling. It was like a visualisation of her emotions right then,

“There was something else wasn’t there?”

Taking a deep breath, Doc nodded, “Yes. Gretel, it’s Chalk Dust. I know he’s…’special’ to you, but you know how the crew feel about unicorns…”

Gretel’s hoof slammed onto the table, upsetting the glass and sending its shining contents across the ancient wood,

“-I know, damn it! Bloody goddess bucking superstition…again! First of all it was Cyclone and now, this…this…bollocks!” She slammed herself back into her chair.

Doc lifted a conciliatory hoof, “Gretel, look, things may settle down like they did with Cyclone, but that’s not the real reason I’m concerned.”

The Captain got out of her chair again, snatching up the bottle and trotted to the large windows at the back of her cabin. It was beautiful out there; the blue sky, the clouds below the keel. It was as if they were at sea, a calm, frictionless sea. She loved this ship and all her crew; they were family, each and every one of them. Gretel could feel tears beginning to sting at the corners of her eyes,

“What is it then, Doc?”

The doctors pink eyes looked up at her from over the top of his spectacles,

“You remember what happened at the bottom of the gangplank in Nightmare Moon’s camp?” Gretel nodded. Doc took a draw on his pipe, letting the smoke roll around his mouth, “Did you see how many of those minotaurs he cut down? Good goddesses, Gretel, did you see the state he was in afterwards? He didn’t seem to know what had happened.”

The Captain took a mouthful of brandy, “Get to the point, Doc.”

“The point Gretel,” Doc said levelly, “is that having Chalk on board is not only risking dissent with the crew, but if he has unstable magic of that power as well, he could be a risk to…” he closed his eyes, “the ship”.

Silence fell in the room.

Seconds dragged by, the doctor feeling increasingly uncomfortable until, with a final snort, Gretel slugged back the last of her brandy and leaned resignedly against the ancient wooden window frame,

“You don’t know that though, it’s only speculation isn’t it?” Her voice wavered, “Have you spoken to him about it?”

Doc shook his head, “No, I think you should Gretel. The decision on what to do can only be yours.”

There was a soft sound, barely audible, but it was like the gentle patter of rain. Doc closed his eyes, cursing himself. He didn’t want to hurt her, but the ship was everything to her. There would always be other stallions. After all, she’d only just met him, so what could she…

“Doc…”

“Yes, Gretel?”

“Thank you, I’ll give it some thought.” The Captain kept her back to the doctor, her voice strong and level, “Would you mind? I’d like to be alone now.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

Doc stood to leave, pausing and half turning back to speak but thought better of it. Calmly, he left the cabin, closing the door moments before the brandy bottle impacted on the other side of it. He shook his head sadly,

“Oh, Gretel. I’m sorry.”

**************************

The ship slipped through the sea of clouds high above Equestria, her sails billowing in the strong winds. Ancient timbers creaked as the seasoned wood of her hull responded to the changes in the air temperature. Up here she was free, free of the cares and misery of the world far below. Yet in some ways, even here, the war was spreading its insidious taint. Her Captain loved her. She was more than a ship to the red mare, she was family, the last link with her earth pony father.

Gretel wiped the tears from her eyes and let out a shuddering breath. She didn’t cry often. The last time had been when her father passed away, right there on the deck of the ship he loved more than any mare, more so even that his own daughter. From that time on, Gretel vowed to herself never to let anypony affect her heart that way, to always keep her emotions under tight rein. Here, in her cabin, away from the duties and responsibility of command, she could be herself, and keep how she truly felt away from the crew. But…what Doc had said, he couldn’t be right…could he? She shook her yellow mane and took another bottle of brandy from the cupboard. The stock was getting low, she’d have to resupply soon. Maybe she could get some from the next port.

Reaching into the desk draw, she found the corkscrew and pulled out the cork with a loud ‘pop’. Wistfully, she wondered how much easier life would be to have magic, to have all that power at your disposal. Even the mundane act of uncorking a bottle would be simplicity itself; a simple glow of the horn and everything worked out the way you wanted it to. Only…it didn’t, did it? Chalky…

Gretel stared at the bottle then walked slowly over to the bed: the bed they’d shared. Closing her eyes, she leaned down, gently huffing the pillows. She could still smell him; that warm, spicy scent of stallion, the one who’d made her head spin. What was it with him? Why, how did he make her heart flutter whenever she looked into those green eyes of his? She shook her head and flopped onto the bed, taking a swig from the bottle,

“Oh Gretel, you silly mare…what have you done.” She murmured to the empty cabin. Lifting her foreleg, she ran her hoof down the wood panelling, “What should I do? What can I do?”

Finally, Gretel rose, placing the bottle back in the holder on the table and rammed her hat back on her head. She’d decided; she would find out for herself and to the devil with the doctor. With a huff, Gretel headed for the door and onto the deck,

“Mister Haggis, set course for Spurs Anvil. We’ll dock there for repairs and give the crew some well deserved shore leave.”

The old stallion called back as he span the wheel, “Aye, aye, Cap’n. Setting course for Spurs Anvil.”

The ship started a slow turn to starboard as Gretel disappeared below decks, carefully closing the hatch behind her.

“…but ‘Ebony’?” There was a bout of laughter, “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you just had one name!”

“Why the hell do you think, smart arse?” It was Bracken, “It’s a bloody girl’s name!”

Chalk stifled a laugh, “I’m sorry Brack, I can’t…” he let out another chuckle, “…Ebony!”

“Shut up! If you mention this to anypony, and I mean anypony, Chalky, I’ll buck you into next week!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Chalk wiped his eyes with his foreleg, his sides still shaking with mirth. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, “Anyway, look, I’ll ask Gretel if you can join the crew. She’ll be glad of another set of hooves on board.”

“I don’t know,” Bracken said, his voice full of uncertainty, “we’re still in the army. If they find out we’ll be classed as deserters and hanged.”

“Pfff! They probably think we died at River Valley.” Chalk snorted, waving a hoof, “Besides, from what I saw, I doubt there’s an army left to go back to.”

Bracken’s eyebrows shot up, “Don’t say that! Good goddesses, Chalky, they were our friends!”

“Friends? You’re my friend, Brack. To hell with the rest of them, I say. I’m sick of polishing armour, parading, drill and the crap they called food there. And maybe it escaped your notice, but we were sent in like lambs to the bloody slaughter! They don’t give a damn if we’re alive or dead!” Chalk stomped a hoof, “To Tartarus with the whole damned lot of them!”

Bracken shook his head sadly, “And what about your mum, Chalky? How do you think she’d feel?”

“Mum? I…”

The black stallion looked away from his friend, staring into some unseen world, “…thinking her son, her only child, is gone…dead, lying rotting on some goddess forsaken field that nopony gives a flying feather about. Maybe you should think about that before you run off to play with your ‘pirate pals’.”

Chalky stammered, “Wha…Brack? What, you want to go back? To that hell? Have you lost your mind?!”

“NO!” Bracken shouted, “But I think you’ve lost yours! If you want to stay here, then fine, but I want off the first chance I get!”

“Well that’s just fine then, see if I care!” Chalk snapped, “Go and get yourself killed for some lost cause and see how your mum and dad feel then!”

Bracken turned away, glaring over his shoulder, “Oh, shut up Chalky, you’re really starting to piss me off.”

“Yeah?” Chalky yelled, kicking the stool over, “Well buck you too, you self righteous horses cock!”

The sound of a throat being cleared made the two stallions look up suddenly. Sitting halfway down the steps, a familiar red coated mare peered down at them, a sad smile on her face,

“Chalky, can I see you in my cabin?”

The white stallion snorted, his tail swishing angrily, “Sure, I think we’re done here.”

“Hey, don’t worry about me, it’s all en suite and even comes with a sponge on a stick for those hard to reach places. There’s a bucket to crap in and everything!” Bracken quipped bitterly as Chalk Dust followed the Captain up the steps, “Sure, you go off and play pirate you big foal!”

The hatch closed with a dull heavy finality, plunging the small room into silence. Only the occasional creak of the ships timbers and his own breathing were left, that and the memory of the argument with his best friend. Bracken thumped his head against the wall in anger and dismay; what was Chalky thinking? From what he’d told him, once you looked past his foalish infatuation with their peculiar situation, it was all too clear that these ponies were villains. Dear goddesses, couldn’t he see that? And that…that mare! The way he’d looked at her, ran after her like a puppy at its master’s call; he was all but wagging his tail! Bracken threw himself onto the cot and hauled the blanket over his head. Maybe, maybe this was all a dream: Nightmare Moon, the war, a flying ship…all of it. But of course, he’d wanted adventure rather than a secure, if somewhat boring future in the progressive world of metalwork hadn’t he? And boy had he got it. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping it would all go away, that the fear, anger and horror’s that haunted him would fade like the memory of a dream with the morning light. The worst of though was his fight with Chalky. He’d have to make that up to him somehow, but…

“Damn it all…damn it, DAMN IT!” Bracken slammed his hoof into the wall in frustration, “Damn you too Chalky, you bloody idiot! Damn…” His voice trailed off as he pushed his muzzle into the pillow, a single salty tear rolling down his cheek. All he wanted was to forget everything, to turn the clock back to when they were just young colts, carefree and happy. Bracken took a deep breath and folded his forelegs over his eyes,

“I…I want to go home…”

**********************

Chalk followed the Captain into her cabin, trying to take his mind off the row he’d had with Bracken. That stubborn arse! Why couldn’t he see what a wonderful life they’d have here; the excitement, the adventure! And best of all, Gretel. He was still angry, but watching the shapely red mare’s rump disappearing through the door into her cabin was a wonderful distraction. She…she couldn’t sense him doing that could she?

“You alright, Chalky? You seem a little flushed.”

Chalk gasped in surprise as Gretel suddenly loomed in his vision, placing her hoof on his forehead,

“I can get Doc if you like.”

“No!” He squeaked, “No…I’m fine Gretel, honestly, don’t worry about it.”

She gave Chalk a doubtful look but waved him to the spare chair while she lowered herself into her own and poured them a drink each. Gretel gazed at the unicorn a moment, taking in his white coat, those big green eyes and of course, his cutie mark: a stick of chalk over a small pile of white ‘dust’, strangely clear on such a white stallion. He wasn’t a particularly strong looking fellow, in fact, quite average really. Certainly, he was nowhere near as powerfully built as even the most everyday deckhoof on her ship. And yet there was something about him, a sort of innocence that she…

Gretel coughed.

“Gretel? Maybe you should see Doc about that cough, it sounds nasty” Chalk reached out a hoof to her.

The red mare snatched hers back quickly, chugging her brandy, “It’s okay” she lied, grimacing at the jolt from the strong spirit, “dust, that all. Get’s very dusty in here sometimes.”

Chalk looked about the cabin curiously. If there was one thing it wasn’t, it was dusty. Gretel leaned back in her chair, her voice sounding unusually feminine,

“Chalky, what can you tell me about your magic?”

He screwed up his face, “My…magic? Well, I’m a unicorn so…”

“-No” Gretel interrupted, “I mean, specifically, like when you did that ‘thing’ by the gangplank.”

There was silence. Chalk simply…’froze’, staring hollowly at the table. Gretel closed her eyes, wishing for a moment that she’d been more careful with her words. Sometimes she could be so damned blunt! Sadly, she shook her head. This wasn’t fair, she shouldn’t be cornering him like this, but…damn it! She needed to know!

“Chalky?”

The white stallion’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, unfocussed, and then, slowly, he began to come back to himself. With a quick shake of his mane Chalk visibly relaxed, but his voice still quavered with anxiety,

“I…I’m sorry Gretel, I don’t really remember all that well.”

He wasn’t being honest with her. If there was one thing that Gretel had learned over the years it was how to sense when somepony was being dishonest. She gave him a hard look. If being the mare didn’t work, maybe being the Captain would,

“Chalky, I have to know, it’s important. Can you control your magic?”

“Yes!” He scrubbed his mane furiously, “I mean, most of the time, it’s just that…” He looked up at her, his green eyes glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows making Gretel’s heart leap,

“Why are you asking me this?” he asked helplessly.

Gretel sighed, “Look Chalky, we don’t know each other very well yet.” He opened his mouth to speak. She knew what he was going to say but she beat him to it, “Yes, I know we…you know, but you saved my life down there and then passed right out. I’m in charge of this ship Chalky and I have to know everypony on my crew.” She leaned forward, “I don’t like secrets, not between a Captain and her crew, and not from you either. I’ll ask you again: what happened by the gangplank?”

Chalk’s mind reeled. Why was she asking this? What did it matter? If he told her, if he explained about his past, she’d hate him and then he’d have to leave the ship, and worse, he’d have to leave her. He couldn’t afford that, it wouldn’t…

A black polished hoof pushed a glass of brandy in front of him. Gratefully, he took it up, taking a mouthful of the fiery spirit. He’d have to do it wouldn’t he? He’d have to tell her, she’d…Oh, Celestia, why this? Why now? Things had been going so well, too. Chalk sighed, staring at the table rather than meeting Gretel’s eyes,

“I…” He closed his eyes a moment and started again, “When I was a foal, I found my magic difficult to control, so I only use it now for object manipulation and basic combat magic.”

The red mare shook her head slowly, “That was a little more than basic combat magic, Chalky. You turned a horde of those beasts into giblets and then flaked right out. If we hadn’t grabbed you when we did, you could have been left behind, or worse.” She refilled his glass, “Is this ability of yours one that you ‘unleash’ when you’re threatened? Like a sort of ‘last resort’ power? I’ve heard of…”

Chalk held up a hoof, stopping her short. He wouldn’t lie to her, he couldn’t, not to her. He smiled sadly, “I wish it was, but the truth is I don’t really know. It’s only happened once before, when I was a foal. It reacts to emotion, I know that much, but it’s not something I can just switch on and off at will. I wish it didn’t exist, Gretel. It’s frightening to have something like this inside you.”

“Does anypony else know about this?” The Captain asked.

Chalk nodded, “Bracken and the ponies in our village.”

Gretel wanted to know more, she had to, but Chalk’s voice carried so much pain it was obviously hurting him to even think of this. She steeled herself,

“What happened Chalky, in the village when you were a foal?”

He looked up at her slowly, his face bearing a haunted look, like he was staring through a hole into the past. Worse, it was a past he’d kept locked away, that nopony should ever see or hear of, and here she was, probing the lock to that mystery. Chalk gritted his teeth. He’d tell her, tell her everything, because to him, she was everything. If she hated him afterwards, at least he knew…

“Dad left when I was a foal.” He began, “One day, he was just…gone. Mum raised me on her own, just her and me. She was a craftsmare, a maker of carved wood and a weaver too, the best the village had. Well, the only one the village had really. Bracken’s family were all metal workers, and that’s how the two of us met and became friends.” He closed his eyes. This was…surprisingly liberating, to get it all out there. It hurt, sure, but…

Chalk sighed, “I went to the local school. It wasn’t a bad place, the teachers were friendly and understanding about my having lost my dad, but that was half the problem: I was treated differently. Being the son of a single parent, to the others foals it was like I was the teachers pet. Celestia knows I wish they’d treated me the same as everypony else, and I know they only thought they were doing what they did out of kindness, but the other foals resented it. That was when the bullying started.”

He shook his head, taking a sip of the brandy, “And of course there’s the matter of how I look. Not many ponies have my colouring, and it drew the bullies to me like bears to honey.” He shrugged, “They made my life a living hell. Day after day, week after week, months, even years I had to endure it…and then one day everything changed.”

Gretel sat in silence watching him in fascination as he continued,

“They wouldn’t leave me alone. They just pushed and pushed until…something inside me just ‘snapped’. The next thing I knew I woke up in a daze and there was…there was blood, everywhere.” Chalk stared into his brandy, “All I could hear was screaming, the shouts of the teachers, and then mum crying…” He looked up at Gretel, his eyes wet with tears, “They took the foals to the hospital and I was taken to a specialist to help me ‘control’ my magic.” He snorted, “Mum had to take me out of the school then, and I was home tutored. It never happened again until…well, you know.”

“I know.” Gretel placed her hoof on his, “But Chalky, you saved my life, you may even have saved the ship. If those things had got on board…”

Chalk shook his head sadly, “I’m not stupid, Gretel, I know what the others are thinking. I’m a danger to this ship, I’m out of control. Dear goddesses, it’s happened twice, twice! And now I’m looked at like I’m some sort of freak, an accident waiting to happen.”

Gretel stood up suddenly, leaning towards him, “No! No Chalky, good grief, I don’t see you like that at all.”

“Maybe not you” Chalk replied quietly, “But the others will. It’ll be like it was back then, with all the stares, all the whispers. It took years for me to be able to be able to go back into the village alone, years! And even then, I would still be whispered about when they thought I was out of earshot. When the war started and Bracken began to talk about enlisting, I thought it would be my chance to get out of there and start my life over again.” He laughed humourlessly, “Now look at me.”

Gretel walked around the table, lifting herself half onto it and took his head in her hooves, “I am looking Chalky” she said quietly. Gently, she placed a kiss on his nose, holding the young stallion to her chest, “I am.”

Chapter Eleven - When all hope has gone

CHAPTER ELEVEN

WHEN ALL HOPE HAS GONE

The Celestian army had been marching in near silence now for days; even the ever present dice games that sprung up whenever a temporary halt was called were played with a heavy sense of despondency which hung like an ever present thunderhead over the weary soldiers. The retreat had been a mixture of crushing disappointment and unspoken relief at being alive that had left more than a few of them lost in a personal world of grief and confusion. The army was noticeably smaller in number than it had been when they had all first enthusiastically set out to remove the invaders. Now, that all seemed like a lifetime ago. Everypony had lost somepony they knew, but there would be time enough for grief when all of this was over.

Word had spread quickly that the ever popular Captain Weald had been injured in the battle. Fortunately, it was nothing too serious and the medics had been at pains to assure his loyal band of female followers that he would make a full recovery in the next week or two. Colonel Spoon too was sporting a few broken ribs and had to have magical healing on a foreleg, but she’d be back to full health soon. Major Wild was the one who was causing the most concern. She hadn’t been injured, but the decision to fall back had not sat well with her and she’d barely spoken to Colonel Dray since.

The veteran stallion took out his pipe and leaned back against a tree, a list of casualties before him. By Celestia’s hairy arse, he didn’t want to read this! But…he sighed, he’d have to. He owed it to them. Taking a deep breath, he began. Name after name assailed him, one after another, the dead, the wounded, the list seemed to be endless. Most of the named had been listed simply as ‘missing’. Dray knew what that meant - Dead, or captured. They hadn’t had a chance to collect their dead from the field, no chance to say goodbye. Horribly, he knew some of the wounded would have been too. And now, now he’d have to write the letters to the families and loved ones of those who’d been lost in fighting yet another pointless battle to save their home. He knew how’d the see it too - another defeat.

He put the list down and closed his eyes; he couldn’t look at any more names. There’d be time enough for that back at the castle, after he’d delivered his report to that blithering imbecile who’d ‘planned’ this whole disastrous cock-up to begin with. Why the hell had Celestia listened to him? Him of all ponies! Why? Just because he was some sodding ‘lord’ who’d been born on the right side of the bed? Dray took a draw on his pipe and looked up just in time to see a familiar red flank disappearing into a tent. It was Wild. He sat quietly for a time, watching, but she didn’t re-emerge. She’d been avoiding him and he couldn’t blame her. The army was in retreat once again, although this time they’d bloodied the enemy and his strategy of attacking their supplies with their dragon allies had proven quite effective. The reptilian things were powerful yet greedy creatures, and the promise of gold in the supply columns had been all the motivation they’d needed. Whether they’d come back and fight head on with the Legion was another matter for another day. Dray looked up. The wind was starting to pick up now, the sun riding high in the sky: a reassuring sign to the ponies who saw it as proof that Celestia still lived and was, in probability, back at the castle planning the next attack. Dray scrubbed his forehead with his hoof. If only that were true, at least now he had a chance to…

There was a sudden blast of wind and the thud of hooves hitting the ground behind him,

“No sign of ‘em, Dray. Looks like they’re licking their wounds from the bucking we gave ‘em.”

The Colonel looked over his shoulder at the smiling pegasus, “Nice work, Harrier. We’ll be back at the castle soon and can see about what we’re going to do about sorting out this mess.”

“You sure we should be falling back to the castle, Dray?” The mare replied, “I mean, I know we took a beating out there at River Valley, but…”

Dray hoofed her the report, “-Read that”

The purple mare was silent for while then ruffled her wings slightly as she let out a long sigh, “That many…”

“Aye.” Dray took back the list, “And mostly the young ones.” He rose to his hooves, brushing off the grass and twigs that had stuck to him, “We need to rethink out strategy, Harrier. I’m going to set up a defensive line to give us time to lick our own wounds, re-supply, bring in reinforcements and hope our allies are true to their word.”

“Hmph!” Harrier snorted, “Dragons! You can’t trust them.”

“The way I look at it,” Dray replied, “if they’re happy to eat Legion supplies, and hopefully a few of the Legion at the same time, then it’s all the better for us.”

Harrier shrugged, “Whaddaya think happened back at the ridge though? They didn’t have any dragon or wendigo support at all. We were knockin’ ‘em outta the sky like flies! Coulda done more if it hadn’t have been so damned dark.”

Dray scratched his chin thoughtfully. Harrier was right, why hadn’t the Legion’s dragons supported the attack? If they had, then it may well have been a very different outcome. As for those wendigo thing’s, the less they saw of them the better. The creature’s terrified ponies and with good reason.

“Dray?” Harrier stared off towards the road, her ears pricked up.

“Hmm?”

“Somepony’s coming, and it looks like they’ve brought company.”

Four ponies, stallions by looks of them, were trotting up towards Drays tent. All of them were wearing silver armour with red trim and long glistening black plumes on their helmets.

Harrier snorted, “Pretty boys. Shame they weren’t there at the ridge.”

Dray ignored her, but she had a point. These four, as big as they were, didn’t have the look of combat troops about them. These looked like the type that would be more at home at home, probably torturing grannies for kicks. He watched as they were met by Chipper, his aide-de-camp. The short pony was virtually looking up the noses of them by comparison, but even so, Dray knew who he’d rather have on his side in a blade fight.

“Any idea who they are?” Harrier asked curiously.

Dray raised an eyebrow and adjusted his tunic, “We’ll find out any moment, they’re coming this way.”

The four ponies trotted over to the tree, the short chestnut brown Chipper virtually dwarfed by them. He saluted smartly,

“Begging you pardon Colonel, this is Lieutenant Cove from Internal Affairs. He wishes to speak with you.”

A tall white stallion, neat and trim in his polished armour, walked up to Dray and saluted smartly.

Dray raised an eyebrow in reply, “Lieutenant.”

“Colonel” Cove’s twitched at the lack of decorum, “I am here to escort you to the castle, Lord Ochre’s orders.”

“I see” The Colonel passed his paperwork to Harrier, “And this is my guard of honour is it?”

The white coated stallion stood like a statue, “If you wish to see it that way, sir.”

Internal Affairs? He’d heard of them of course, their unsavoury reputation certainly went before them. The name didn’t fool him. They were the lords’ private soldiers, virtually an entire division’s worth of them. If he’d had them at the ridge, they could have been the edge he needed to tip the scales. But no, they were kept at Ochre’s manor or, more likely, the castle now that Celestia had vanished. And it was all for vanity, to protect him and his precious wealth. What was worse though, was that Dray had a feeling he knew why these ponies were here. It didn’t bode well. He nodded,

“Very well, I’ll get my things.”

“Whoa now, just a minute!” Harrier took a step forward, “What the hell’s going on here?”

“Stand down, Flight Captain.” Dray stood between the Lieutenant and the purple pegasus officer, his tone of voice alone making her stop in her tracks, “Just, tell the Major I’m leaving her in command. She’s to work with Colonel Spoon to set up a defensive line as we discussed.” He turned to leave and paused, glancing back over his shoulder, “And Harrier?” he smiled, “Thank you, it’s been an honour serving with you.”

“Dray?” The mare looked worried, her eyes darting between Dray and the Lieutenant.

The Colonel shook his head and gave her a meaningful look before walking up to his tent to collect his belongings. There wasn’t much: a few trinkets he’d collected over the years, some spare tunics, his weapons, an equipment repair kit and so on. It was a sad assortment of nothing much, that amounted to no more than this…

Dray shrugged, took up his tobacco, pipe case and brandy flask, then left the tent. Harrier and Chipper were stood outside.

“Chipper, help yourself to what’s in there old friend, but could you make sure Major Wild has this?” The Colonel passed his aide a small cloth bag. Lieutent Cove stepped forward inquisitively.

“It’s just a memento, Lieutenant.” Dray said opening the bag and showing him the amber stone inside, “Sentimental value, more than anything.”

The Lieutenant nodded.

With a final smile and a wave, the grey coated veteran took station between his armoured escorts. And with that, the ponies walked slowly away from the camp and headed off along the long road towards the heart of Equestria and the castle of the princesses.

Watching him go, Harrier’s eyes narrowed. She liked the Colonel. He’d been somepony she could rely on; a constant in this hellish war that she could see, hear and talk to whenever she wanted to. He never changed, never, and now he just…walked away.

“Harrier? What’s going on? The camp’s abuzz with something to do with the Colonel.” Major Wild trotted up beside her, tossing her mane, “Harrier?”

The pegasus sank to her haunches, staring up the road, her voice sounding disturbingly empty, “He’s…gone.”

A shock of cold ran down the Major’s spine making her hackles go up,

“Gone? What do you mean?”

Harrier’s eyes were wide. She looked like she was in shock, “I…”

Chipper interrupted, “-Major Wild?” Reaching down he carefully lifted her hoof, “The Colonel asked me to give you this and said you’d understand.”

Wild stared down at the innocuous looking cloth bag with it’s the simple green drawstring. She hadn’t seen it for years but knew without asking what it contained. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the rising tide of emotion.

“One of my ponies said that Lord Ochre’s stallions have taken the Colonel into custody. Is this true?” Colonel Spoon’s question was like a dagger through the Major’s heart. Surely…surely not? They’d saved the army from annihilation and although they hadn’t driven the Legion out, they had inflicted a heavy blow; the first since the outbreak of war. That had to be worth something, hadn’t it?

“Major?”

Wild took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, “Colonel Spoon, we need to discuss the defence of Equestria.” She nodded to the other officers, “Flight Captain, Chipper, if you please…”

Fighting back the anger and fear raging through her heart, Wild steeled herself for what she must do. Whatever became of Dray, they had a job to do and saving Equestria had to take precedence. He’d known that. That was why he’d left her the amber, the Wyvern’s Tear. It was the symbol of defiance left to him by his father; that he would stand until the very end and do his duty as a warrior should. She felt a rogue tear sneak out and roll down her cheek which she surreptitiously wiped away. There was no time for tears, not now. Now was a time for action, but one day…one day, she would pay that overstuffed Ochre a visit, and all debts would be paid…in full.

********************

The long walk to the castle took several equally long days. Why Dray’s new companions hadn’t brought a sky chariot to collect him was peculiar, particularly when considering how notoriously impatient Lord Ochre was. Strange too was how the ponies escorting him did very little in the way of any actual guarding, although they were probably working on the assumption that an officer of his rank wouldn’t even consider an attempt at escape. After all, where could he go? The enemy would most likely kill him if he was captured and his own side would simply hunt him down. And then of course, there was his family. He couldn’t risk harm to them.

Interestingly, Lord Ochre’s stallions barely spoke to each other, let alone their charge, only issuing the occasional instruction: ‘eat’, ‘sleep there’ and so on. The Colonel was never given a chance to wash either; the five of them were on the go from first light until dark. Dray wasn’t under any illusion however, it was probably all intended to humiliate him, to tire him out and present him as a filth covered wreck before the ‘mighty lord’. He snorted, shaking his mane. He didn’t care, he’d done his best and only the eternal herd could decide his true fate, not some little snot of a stallion.

The Colonel took out his travelling cloak. It was going to be a cold night, he noted - the sky was crystal clear and full of stars. For some reason Ochre’s stallions had camped atop a hill with the fire no doubt visible for miles. This far into the heartland it probably didn’t matter so much, but it was another glaring indication that these weren’t regular soldiers. He pulled the thick wool cloak over his head and huddled down for the night, listening to the campfire crackle and the sound of hooves drawing near.

“Colonel? You still awake?”

Pushing his hood back, Dray half opened one eye, “Just about. What is Lieutenant?”

In answer, Cove reached into his pack and took out a small earthenware jar. Deftly, he held the jar with one hoof and undid the clips, removing the lid,

“What do you think?”

The Lieutenant passed the container to Dray. Warm sunshine, fresh grass, golden cornfields, and a hint of rum: the smell’s that eased a troubled heart, caressed his nostrils. The Colonel smiled,

“Wonderful.”

“I thought you’d appreciate it” the Lieutenant replied quietly, producing his own pipe, “Please…” he held out his hoof in invitation.

Dray raised an eyebrow. This was different. Why would they start being cordial now? Was it all part of some ploy of the Lord’s? He hesitated.

“It’s not poisoned Colonel, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Cove said quietly as he made himself comfortable.

Dray gave him a half smile, “Could you blame me if I did?”

“All I can tell you” the Lieutenant replied honestly, “is that I’ve been ordered to bring you to see Lord Ochre, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. If I could tell you more, I would. I promise you that upon my honour as an officer.”

Dray harrumphed, “Fine words, Lieutenant, but we needed every able bodied pony at River Valley and your ‘Lord’ kept a whole division, a whole division, safe at home to protect his blue blooded arse.” He lifted his pipe and began packing it, all the while watching the young officers eyes intently, “We lost a lot of ponies that day, Cove, good ponies and for what? It was bloody suicide, and he knew it. You’ll forgive me if I appear a little cynical?”

The younger stallion peered over his shoulder at his three fellow sat around the camp fire playing dice. They weren’t paying the two any attention whatsoever. He returned to face the Colonel once more,

“I can’t pretend to know what you went through Colonel, or your ponies, but know this: If I could have been there, I would have. There are many of us who think that too, but we cannot simply abandon Lord Ochre, especially now that the Princess has…gone.”

He was right of course. Loyalty was considered an important attribute for a pony in Equestria, be it to the Princess or, unfortunately, to a complete cock like Ochre. The Lieutenant could always be talking out of his arse of course, Dray still didn’t trust him, but still, it was damned good tobacco. The Lieutenant leaned back and gave his neck a stretch,

“Colonel…I wanted to ask you something.”

Dray closed his eyes. Ah! Now we were getting to the real reason why this fellow was suddenly feeling talkative.

Cove continued, “Do you happen to know a young stallion called Tenor Flair? He’s a lime green lad with a light purple mane and blue eyes. He’s a slim fellow, a unicorn like his mum.”

Dray shook his head, “I’m sorry Lieutenant. There were thousands of ponies at River Valley. I wish I could have remembered all of their names, but there were more pressing matters to attend to.” He sighed, “I’m sure you understand.”

The Lieutenant looked crestfallen, “I…I see.”

“I don’t know if it’s any consolation, Lieutenant, but I don’t recall seeing his name on the casualty list.” Dray explained honestly, “I know it was a bit ‘confused’ to say the least, but there is still a chance he’s with the army.”

“Of course, Colonel.” The young officer said, taking a drawer on his pipe, “It was a long shot, but worth asking. If I’d had the time I’d have liked to have had a look around the camp for him but…well, duty first.”

Dray nodded, watching the smoke from his pipe curling up into the night sky, “Aye, duty first.”

The Lieutenant went to stand, “Thank you for your time Colonel.”

“Wait…” Dray reached out a hoof, “Lieutenant Cove, is this pony a friend of yours?”

Cove nodded sadly, “My brother.” He gazed up at the stars distantly, “Dad used to work on Lord Ochre’s estate and put a word in for me. He thought it would be a good posting for me, with good pay, good conditions, and a smart uniform too.” He smiled grimly, “Tenor’s a few years younger than me you see, and when the war broke out he went straight into the regular army while I was already in Lord Ochre’s employ.”

So, that explained why the two were separated, Dray thought to himself. If Cove could be believed then, the Lord’s own ponies, or at least some of them, had wanted to fight with the army but were being prevented from doing so by the very quality espoused by their people - Loyalty. He nodded, “I see.” Dray rolled the tobacco smoke around his mouth and blew a smoke ring, “Lieutenant Cove, if I have a chance to return to the army, I promise you I will look for your brother.”

The white coated stallion nodded,

“Thank you Colonel. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we have an early start in the morning. With good travelling weather, we’ll be at the castle by midday.”

Dray lifted a hoof in acknowledgement. He lay back and watched the stars twinkling high above, thinking about the Lieutenant’s words, and very interesting they had been, very interesting indeed. Maybe…

He shook his head and tapped out his pipe. Before he started having any further ideas, he’d need to see what tomorrow would bring. Curling up for warmth, he snugged the cloak in around himself and closed his eyes, letting himself drift off into the embrace of sleep.

****************************

Morning came all too early, but for an army stallion, it was a normal part of their routine. Still, a few minutes more would have been nice. Dray yawned and packed his cloak, joining the others who took their usual station: two in front, two behind, and together, they began the last leg of their journey to the castle. Lieutenant Cove didn’t speak again, at least, not to him. He was an interesting fellow and one Dray could see as having a promising career, if it hadn’t been for how fate had played her cards. If nothing else, at least the stallion was safe with Ochre’s private force, for now at any rate.

The morning wore on, the road becoming more and more substantial and better maintained until it eventually transitioned from mud, to gravel, and finally to paving. They passed through a small town on the outskirts of the forest, the population there paying them surprisingly little attention. In some ways it was just a normal town scene, with ponies shopping at the market stalls or taking their children to school. It was as if the war were happening on another world. And yet, there were those curiously furtive glances, the ones Dray just happened to catch when the villagers thought he wasn’t looking. He recognised them immediately - fear. Even here, this close to the castle, the war had spread its insidious tendrils. Goddesses, how he hoped that one day this would be nothing more than a memory, and a bad memory at that.

The five of them continued through the town, the well tended road leading inexorably up to the castle’s immense outer wall with its large red and gold banners snapping in the breeze high above. Dray was momentarily surprised by the fact Celestia’s banners still flew. Apparently Ochre hadn’t had a chance to put his own up yet. A problem that he would no doubt rectify as soon as he felt he could get away with it. After all, many ponies still believed she was still alive, and goddesses help them when they found out that she’d ‘disappeared’. Dray snorted. For all he knew, she was sat there in the throne room waiting to berate him herself!

Their hoofsteps echoed as they passed under the heavy iron portcullis and into the castle’s built up area. This was where the wealthier citizens of Equestria, the merchants, the nobles and those who wished to climb the various social ladders, lived their lives of relative safety, sequestered between the protective inner and outer curtain walls. The inner walls themselves were just as impressive at the one’s they’d entered through, the huge castle proper, enigmatically known as ‘the castle of the two sisters’, dominating the slight rise. Dray was the son of a farmer, more used to mud on his hooves from ploughing or stitching wounds from battle, than sipping tea and eating fancy cakes. But even he could understand the beauty of such a place as this. Everywhere the wealth and nature of the Equestrian people showed, from the flowing fountains to the freshly whitewashed walls, elegant statuary and beautifully kept gardens all around them. Well dressed ladies and gentlecolts of the middle and upper classes glided about their gilded cage like so many peacocks in an aviary. Dray doubted any of them had ever seen a sword, let alone hoofed one in battle.

Oddly, like the ponies in the village, these paid little attention to the small procession of soldiers, and the five of them arrived at the stairs to the castle proper with no more fanfare than having to show identification papers at the main gate. That was new!

A burly guard looked at the papers and then up to the Lieutenant,

“You can go now. I’ll take him to see the Lord.”

Cove shook his head, “I was instructed to take him to deliver him to Lord Ochre, private and I shall.”

“Not looking like that you’re not” the guard replied, “You’re all covered in crap. If you make a mess of his carpets he’ll have you cleaning the privy for the next month and I don’t to be dragged into it because…”

Lieutenant Cove stomped a hoof, his ponies shifting their hooves to the hilts of their swords,

“-I don’t give a damn about his bucking carpets private. Now, stand aside and allow me to complete my mission or I will report your obstruction to Lord Ochre myself.”

Cove’s voice brooked no dissent and the guard took a step back hurriedly, letting the officer and his contingent through. Dray was impressed, and didn’t miss the dark look the guard shot at the back of the Lieutenant. Keeping his thoughts to himself, Dray took it all in, it may prove useful later; if there was a later. Ochre had a reputation, a bad one, and it wouldn’t surprise him in the least if his new appointment involved the liberal use of chopping blocks and sharp bladed instruments. Just for the sake of public order of course, nothing else, Dray thought to himself sarcastically. He shook his head and cleared his lungs with a deep breath. It didn’t really matter who was in charge anymore, they were all the same, all feathering their own nests on the bones of those less fortunate. At least Celestia, for all her naivety, wasn’t tyrannical or selfish.

They reached a set of imposingly tall wooden doors. One side had a magnificent carved representation of an alicorn reaching out towards the sun, the other a reverse of the first, with an alicorn reaching down for the moon. They were two halves of the whole, two halves that had split the country into warring factions and now with one of them missing, the carrion had come to pick over the bones of what the other had wrought. Dray gritted his teeth as the doors began to creak open, almost immediately finding himself deluged with the overpowering smell of rose water as it rolled out over him. The heady scent was so strong it stung his eyes and made his stomach heave, making him feel physically sick. Beside him, he could see Lieutenant Cove’s nose and eyes twitching involuntarily. The poor stallion was probably acclimatised to it by now.

The two guards by the door waved them inside and they entered. Dray half expected to see a low lying fog of stench around his hooves. Instead, the invisible assailant simply constrained itself to annihilating his sense of smell. They trudged on. The purple carpet beneath Dray’s hooves seemed to go on for miles, giving him ample time to take in the immensely tall windows of multicoloured stained glass panels which depicted various scenes of ponies and ‘things’ which he wouldn’t want to bump into on a dark night. Doubtless the intension of all of this was to impress upon the supplicant that they were in the presence of absolute power and greatness. It was certainly something that had effect of giving the Colonel goose bumps. Or was that a reaction to the stench of rosewater?

Finally, the Lieutenant and the Colonel stood at the foot of the flight of marble steps that lead to two magnificent thrones. One was carved with the symbol of Celestia, a large sunburst that left the viewer in no doubt as to who and what the occupant of that regal piece of furniture represented. The second was its opposite twin, the zenith to its nadir: an equally beautifully carved throne bearing a depiction of the moon in its crescent form above the vacant seat that had once belonged to Luna, the Princess of the Night. Dray couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of sadness and regret wash over him at the sight. What was worse though, was the slovenly looking creature that had ensconced itself in the throne normally occupied by Celestia.

Lord Ochre, a deep blue unicorn stallion, half sat, half lay across the leader of Equestria’s chair, his long flowing snow white mane drooping over the side as he swirled a golden goblet of wine. His perfectly coifed hair looked strange somehow, as though he were trying to emulate the almost living hair of the two sisters. And then, Dray noticed it, the young pony beside him with the fan half hidden behind the throne trying to make the Lord’s mane ‘ripple’ dramatically. It was all rather…pathetic really.

Ochre’s attention appeared to be focussed more on the wine than his company, and he made a show of draining it before passing the empty goblet to his attendant. Almost immediately, another pony appeared in a black suit, sporting a tape measure and pad of paper held up in his magic. Ochre lazily rolled his hazel eyes and stretched languorously before slowly stepping down from the throne,

“Can you believe how hard it is to find a decent tailor around here?” The Lord stretched out a foreleg, allowing the black suited stallion to measure him, “Of all the places in Equestria, one would have thought that there’d be one, ONE in this place that could make a set of clothes for a pony of one’s station.”

Dray wasn’t sure if he was addressing him or not and glanced over at the Lieutenant for rescue. Cove just waggled his eyebrows conspiratorially. What the hell was that supposed to mean? He decided it was best to reply just in case,

“My Lord, I have returned at your request.”

“Well obviously!” The Lord replied rolling his eyes, “I sent for you!” He stood up on his hind legs as the tailor took more measurements and clucked his tongue, “I hope this isn’t going to take all day, stallion, I have other things to do you know!”

Again, Dray faltered, unsure of whom the Lord was addressing.

“Well?” Ochre snapped irritably, casting a hazel eyed gaze upon Dray, “Well Colonel?”

“My Lord?”

Ochre waved a hoof in exasperation, “Your report, stallion! Do I have to spell it out for you? Great goddesses, are you the best Equestria has to offer? No blasted wonder the country’s going to hell.”

Dray could feel his eye beginning to twitch. That damned overstuffed fool! This was like a bloody game to him wasn’t it? He stood his ground and cleared his throat,

“Lord Ochre, I wish to…”

“-Just a minute, just a minute.” Ochre called down, “Damn it, stallion, what the hell is wrong with you? That too tight!”

The tailor bowed, “I apologise my lord.”

Ochre clucked his tongue and glanced down at Dray, “What would you do with him eh, Dray? A tailor who can’t…’tailor’, like a cock with no balls, right?”

“Uh…yes, my lord.” Dray stuttered. What the hell was he going on about?

“So what would you do with him, Dray?”

The Colonel looked at the frightened old pony that was holding the tape measure. Horribly, he had the feeling he held the poor stallion’s life in his hooves. He took a breath,

“Remedial training, my lord.”

“Ha! Remedial training is it?” Ochre laughed, “Very well, I shall think upon that for later.” He clopped his hooves together at the stricken tailor, “You! Leave us!”

Bowing, the stallion looked like he’d pissed himself in fright and all but ran past the two officers. The dark blue coated lord yawned and took another goblet of wine from his ever present attendants,

“Well, Dray, I’m waiting. What news of our glorious army?”

Dray took a deep cleansing breath. He’d been dreading this,

“My lord, the army has delivered a great blow against the army of Nightmare Moon. We were able to fight them to a standstill on the forest ridge and with the help of our allies, have attacked their staging area and supplies.”

Ochre stretched his hind legs and gave Dray a half interested look,

“Yes, one has heard about those flying lizards attacking the Legion’s supplies. Hardly an act to be celebrated, Dray. Nor, one note’s, have you made mention of the engagement at River Valley.” He cast a hazel eye upon the Colonel, “Well?”

“Lord Ochre”, Dray said in a clear voice, “I regret the enemy was able to break through our centre lines and we were forced to re-deploy on the southern ridge. We took heavy casualties but were able to…”

Ochre suddenly jumped from the throne and slammed his hoof down, the noise echoing around the great pillared throne room,

“-RE-DEPLOY?” He thundered, “You mean you ran like whipped dogs!” The young lord walked slowly down the steps towards Dray, “You were given everything that Equestria has to offer, including the cream of our youth, and you were asked to deliver one thing Dray, that was all, just one tiny thing…do you remember what that was?”

“Victory my lord” Dray replied.

“That’s right, victory.” Ochre snarled, “One simple request and you couldn’t get that right, could you?”

“My lord, I followed the battle plan as you instructed and…”

Ochre barked out a laugh, interrupting him, “-And what? You can’t mean to imply that I had something to do with your failure, Colonel? I gave you the tools and the instructions on how to carry out the task of eradicating a few vermin from our border and you botched the whole bloody thing!”

Dray’s words were out before he could stop himself,

“Those ponies were inexperienced, ill equipped and ill prepared. I did what I could but you have no idea what we are facing out there. Your ‘few vermin’ are experienced warriors who are trained to fight from birth and…”

“BE QUIET!” Ochre roared interrupting him, “Excuses, excuses, excuses! You come here with half cocked explanations for your unmitigated failure and have the audacity to blame me…ME!” He waved a hoof and two silver armoured guards appeared, “Equestrian’s will fight willingly to defend their homeland, Dray, a fact I had expected you of all ponies to understand. Instead, I see a coward, whipped by an inferior enemy and one who allowed our glorious leader to be ambushed by trickery and deception.”

The Lord walked around Dray in a circle, his voice low,

“Where is she Dray?” Ochre hissed, “Where is Celestia?”

Dray kept his head up and his voice level, “I don’t know, my lord.”

“You don’t know…” Ochre shook his head, “Well I can tell you onething, Dray, she is not here.” He turned to the throne and waved his hooves in the air, “Can you see her Dray? CAN YOU?”

“No, my lord”

Ochre gave an exaggerated nod, “Of course you can’t!” He turned to the throne, casting his voice out loud and clear, “Celestia? Celestia? Are you there oh great monarch of the sun and morning light?”

Silence.

“You don’t see it, do you Dray? A low born creature such as yourself will never understand what it is like to be born into power, to hold that responsibility in your hooves, and watch as some…maggot throws it all away!” Ochre climbed back up the steps to the throne, his voice echoing out as he went, “You have thrown away the best chance we had of defeating Nightmare Moon and her mongrels, Dray. You threw away the chance I gave you, the chance to make a name for yourself, and look at you now! A stinking, filth covered wreck of a pony.” Ochre took a mouthful of his wine, “I alone now have the responsibility to protect our beautiful home now, ME! Not Celestia and certainly not you!” He glowered at the Colonel, “I have a good mind to sentence you to be hanged for treason, Dray. If it wasn’t for your extraordinarily bungled handling of our army, our glorious Princess would still be with us now.”

Ochre tapped his chin thoughtfully, “Still…all is not lost.” He gazed down at Dray, “I feel sorry for you really, Dray. I do, I really do. You see, I admit that I have some level of ‘culpability’ in your failure as I was the one who expected good things from you. I believed that you knew what you were doing and that the references I received regarding your ‘talents’, meant you were the right stallion for the job. Clearly, I was wrong.” He tapped his hoof on the arm of the chair, “There, you see? Even I can admit I made a mistake.” Ochre smiled broadly, the look of cold cruelty never leaving his eyes. He waved to the guards who took up station either side of the Colonel. Ochre held his hoof up dramatically, “If I can admit my mistakes, then so can you Colonel Dray. Unfortunately however, as merciful as I am, I do not believe that the ponies of Equestria would be quite so understanding, particularly when they find out that you had a hoof in the loss of our beloved Princess.”

Dray’s teeth were clenched so tightly, his jaw ached. What was this fool talking about? That he was responsible for the loss of Celestia? Goddesses, if this fool was leading their homeland now, they had no chance, no hope at all. His hoof itched. If only he could grab a weapon, he could take that blustering imbecile down before the others were on him. If only he could…

“Colonel Dray” Ochre began, “You are hereby stripped of your command and banished from the heartland. I will allow you to return to your family home and live out your days there. However should you leave there, you and your family will be considered to be enemies of the state and dealt with accordingly.”

“Lord Ochre!” Lieutenant Cove stepped forward suddenly, his eyes blazing, “The Colonel’s home is now in enemy territory, if you send him there it will be to his death!”

Ochre raised an eyebrow, “Ah, Lieutenant Cove, wasn’t it?” He grinned, “Tell you what, why don’t you accompany him on his journey? I believe you and he have a special bond do you not?”

Cove lifted a hoof in surprise, “What? No!”

“Don’t lie to me, Lieutenant!” The Lord yelled, “I know all about your secret little chats with Dray, your conspiring, your plotting!” He motioned towards the guards, “Get them out of my sight! I want them out of the castle by sundown!”

Dray bowed and turned to leave, catching the eye of the stricken Lieutenant. There was no mistaking that look in his eyes. He’d seen the same look in the faces of countless ponies before, when they realised all their dreams had shattered like broken glass beneath their hooves, their futures suddenly dark and unknown.

It was the look of a soul that had lost all hope.

Chapter Twelve - The Morning After

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE MORNING AFTER

Below decks, the dying light of the sun crept in through the open hatchway, supplemented by several hanging lanterns. The effect did little to brighten the cramped interior, creating large showed areas that added an eerie feel not lost upon the recently liberated prisoners who sat in the hastily converted cargo hold. All conversation stopped when the white pony appeared from out of one of the shadows, his pale gold mane and green eyes making several of them gasp and back away hurriedly. Chalk didn’t notice, he was more interested in exploring.

Most lanterns Chalk had seen in his life were either magical or fed by a type of oil. These however were lit with something that moved inside them. Whatever it was fascinated him, drawing him closer until his nose was almost pressed up against the glass.

“There’s something wrong with that pony.” Somepony muttered, “Look at that, you think that’s normal behaviour?”

Other voices chimed in,

“How come he’s not in here with us? Is he one of the crew?”

“Nah, I saw him when he first came in, he was scared witless.”

“He scared me! He looks like a bloody spirit of the dead!”

The lamp looked like it had several white glowing orbs inside, and they were moving, flowing around each other in a strange dance. The light flowed out, bathing his muzzle and reflecting in his eyes. It was fascinating! What were these things?

“Come away!” A polished hoof reached out and pulled him back into the shadows, “Good goddesses, Chalky, are you part cat or something?”

“Hmmm?” Chalk looked round at the Captain, still lost in his imagination, “Part cat?”

“Inquisitive!” Gretel hissed, “If you’re planning on staying aboard, you don’t want that lot knowing you are, understand?”

Chalk shook his mane, “I…yes, Gretel, but it’s so new to me, everything about this ship is just amazing!”

Gretel rolled her eyes then paused, looking again at the ancient timbers, the joints, the way the wood grain flowed. She was a living thing, a hoof and magic crafted vessel from a different time. More than a simple ship, she was as alive as her crew…in a sense. Gretel ran her hoof along one of the support beams, listening to the occasional creak of the wood as it reacted to the temperature and seasons. Had she been aboard so long that she’d forgotten how lucky she was? Forgotten just how incredible it was that such an unbelievably wonderful craft still existed? Gretel leaned her forehead against the beam and sighed; yes, she had.

“Gretel?”

The red mare closed her eyes, “Mmm?”

“You okay?” Chalk ran his hoof down her mane making her shiver slightly.

“Yeah…I guess, you’ve just reminded me how much I love this old girl.” She turned round and nuzzled him, “And how bloody sentimental you’ve made me recently!”

Chalk smiled, “You know, you’re always referring to the ship as ‘she’ or ‘her’. She does have a name, right?”

“She does” Gretel said readjusting her belt, “I’m surprised I haven’t told already.” She stood to her full height and doffed her hat in an elaborate flourish, a cheeky glint in her maroon eyes, “It may be belated, but welcome aboard mister Dust. Welcome aboard the King Sombra’s Revenge”.

“Who?”

Gretel froze, her eye twitching before she rammed her hat back on her head,

“Tell me you’re joking, Chalky.”

Chalk scrubbed his neck in embarrassment, “Sorry Gretel…”

The Captain leaned her head back against the wooden beam and face hoofed, “You did have home schooling didn’t you? You did say that, I’m not just imagining it?”

Chalk nodded.

“Then what the hell did they teach you?”

“All sorts of things,” Chalk said scratching his mane, “but ‘King Sombra’ wasn’t part of it.”

“The Crystal Empire?”

“Oh!” Chalk tapped his hoof on the floor happily, “I know about that! It was the subject of one of my mum’s novels, ‘Adventure’s in Sapphire’. I didn’t read it because it was one of those sappy love story things set in a mythical made up world.”

“Wh…WHAT?” Gretel spluttered, “Made up?! Celestia buck me senseless! Chalky, the Crystal Empire wasn’t something that was ‘made up’ just to sell cheap bloody novels, it actually existed! King Sombra was its ruler, or at least, its dictator.”

Chalk narrowed his eyes, staring off into the shadows a moment, lost in thought,

“I…remember something, something about a ‘being of ultimate evil’ that destroyed the land, but that was just a myth right?”

“Yes! No! Oh for goodness sake!” Gretel tossed her mane, “Sombra existed, the Crystal Empire existed, and as for this ‘ultimate evil’, its probably referring to the last days of the empire before it was banished.”

“Banished?” Chalk asked wrinkling his brow, “How could you banish a whole empire?”

“Ask bloody Celestia and Luna!” Gretel snapped.

Chalk ploughed on regardless, “But, how come I don’t know about it? Surely if that place existed there’d have to be something left behind right? Some tangible relic of that lost civilisation ponies could point to as evidence that it wasn’t just a story?”

Gretel sank to her haunches and sighed. She didn’t mean to lose her temper with Chalk, but he could be so bloody infuriating! How come he didn’t know about the empire? His schooling was probably to blame in all likelihood, or had memory of it drifted so far from common knowledge it had passed into the realms of myth in the minds of others?

“Chalky” She said softly, “would you believe me if I told you that King Sombra existed, that the Crystal Empire existed and that I can prove it to you?”

The white unicorn nodded enthusiastically, “Of course, I trust you Gretel.”

The look in his eyes was so honest, so trusting, it made Gretel’s heart cry out. Goddesses, she just wanted to squeeze him until he popped! Shaking herself, she instead looked him in the eyes and smiled,

“You wanted proof Chalky? You’re standing in it.”

“The ship?” he asked curiously.

Gretel nodded, “Oh, and one other thing…” She grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss that took his breath away. Releasing him, Gretel gasped and closed her eyes happily, “You just kissed a pony descended from there.”

Blinking, Chalk moved up to the Captain, “Did I?” he murmured, “All I see is the mare I love.”

Gretel froze, staring into his eyes, “Chalky…I…look, I…”

Chalk tapped her on the nose smiling, “I know, you don’t have to say anything.” He looked away wistfully, “Gretel, look, I’m sorry, I’m not very good at emotional stuff. I said too much, just forget I said anything.”

The Captain stood dumbfounded, her emotions roiling inside like breakers hitting a shore. Chalk Dust, the white coated pony who had been curled up in the corner of the compound, the one whom she’d taken a shine to, he was just a fling…wasn’t he? She may be the Captain of the ship, but she was still a mare and she wanted, needed companionship sometimes, and Chalk was…well…what was he? She closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears,

“Chalky…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…” She looked away, “I’ve hurt you, haven’t I”

It wasn’t a question.

Chalk shrugged, “No, you haven’t. Now, I’m going to explore the ship if I may have your permission, Captain?” He smiled sadly.

Gretel nodded. She couldn’t answer, her eyes were filling with tears. Damn that bloody stallion! And damn her too for playing about with him. She should have known this would happen, look at how things had turned out with…

Her ears twitched as she listened to the sound of Chalk walking away towards the crew quarters. Quietly, she climbed back up the steps and headed for her cabin. For the first time in however many years, she didn’t know what to do. Throwing herself onto the bed, Gretel grabbed the pillow and shoved her face into it. At least in here, nopony could see her crying.

Below decks, Chalk blanked out his emotions. It was something he was particularly good at. It was a skill he’d learned early in life and it had stood him in good stead too, at least to a degree. Bracken had been concerned that he was ‘bottling up’ his feelings and should find a release for them, maybe a hobby of some kind, but what did he know? Bloody idiot couldn’t find his arse with both hooves, let alone give advice on handling emotional situations. No, what he needed right then was a drink and some male company, and by the sounds of the melodeon beyond the bulkhead door, it looked like he’d found it.

Beyond the door, the room thrummed with activity. A lively shanty was being played by an energetic yellow earth pony stallion on melodeon accompanied by a turquoise mare on violin. Around them a group of ponies clopped their hooves in time to the music; drinking, gambling and smoking while a number of them made a very spirited attempt at dancing. Nopony appeared to notice him entering, so he slipped up to the mare hoofing out drinks by a set of barrels,

“Hi!”

“Who are you?” The orange mare asked, wiping her forehead with her pinny, “You’re not one of the crew. You one of those ponies from the hold?”

“No, I’m…” Chalk paused. What was he? Goddesses, he’d have to think fast! “Um, I’m the new guy!”

“New guy, huh?” The mare peered at him, “You got a chitty?”

“A what?”

The mare rolled her eyes, “For your grog, stupid. The bosun not fix you up yet?”

“Not yet, I guess she’s forgotten.” Chalk replied, all but yelling over the music and general hubbub. He gave the mare his best smile.

“That won’t work on me” She said folding her forelegs on top of the barrel, “No chitty, no grog, Capn’s orders.”

A dark brown stallion pushed forward up to the bar. It was the bulky form of Stock, the Ship’s Master. He nodded to Chalk and addressed the mare,

“I’ll get him one on mine, Faith.”

The bar mare sniffed, “Aye Master Stock, one for the ‘new guy’ coming up.”

Taking his mug of the strong smelling spirit, Chalk followed the larger stallion to his seat, a heavy crate beside one of the lanterns. A plate of cheese and pickles sat beside it. Stock took a heavy swig on his drink, watching the dancing while Chalk sniffed cautiously at his drink and winced. Whatever it was smelled like could likely strip paint, and the goddesses knew what it would do to his insides. He caught a glimpse of stock watching him out of the corner of his eye and swallowed. He couldn’t lose face now, and certainly not in front of the crew. Taking a deep breath, he took a mouthful and gulped it down, smiling at the big stallion beside him.

Suddenly, silence fell around him like a lead weight.

“He’s still standin’” a black and brown stallion called out, “Reckon e’s a drinkin’ stallion?”

“Mebbe he’s usin’ his magic?” Another called out.

“What’s that? There’s a unicorn on board?”

“One of the ‘cargo’ I reckon, Capn’s new toy foal”

“Yeah, she broke the last one!”

There was a bought of laughter, quickly dying down under a withering look from Stock. Chalk looked up from his mug after taking another swig,

“Not bad, strange taste though. What is it?”

Stock shrugged, “Thestral’s call it ‘Balta’. Don’t know what it’s made of, don’t care either.” He picked up a piece of cheese and wolfed it down in one bite.

Chalk felt the stares from the ponies boring into him as dozens of pairs of eyes watched his every move. He didn’t normally feel uncomfortable in social settings, especially after the locals got used to his colouring, but this felt different than usual, like he was a piece of meat in a griffin butchers shop. He cleared his throat,

“Stock?”

“Yeah?” The big stallion rumbled.

“Um, why are they, y’know, staring at me” Chalk motioned towards the others, “like that?”

Stock shrugged, “They’re waiting to see if you finish your drink”

Chalk stared into his mug, “I don’t understand. It doesn’t taste that bad when you get used to it.” He knocked back the last of it and slammed the empty container down.

Quickly, one of the ponies rushed over to the bar mare and returned with another full mug of the thick black goo. Silently, the crewpony replaced Chalk’s empty and backed away.

“Hey, thanks!” Chalk smiled.

The other ponies continued to stare, occasionally passing what looked like bits between them. They were whispering to each other quietly too, watching him lift the mug, place it to his lips and take another pull. Chalk raised an eyebrow and smacked his lips,

“Quite delicious really…”

A strange tingling sensation began to radiate around his lips as he finished the second mug. Unbelievably, a third mug appeared beside him, the deliverer quickly backing away as the others leaned forward, watching him as if he was going to explode suddenly.

“Hey, Stock?” Chalk said, “Is this some sort of drinking game? I don’t know the rules.”

“Oh, there’s no rules” Stock rumbled in his deep voice, “Just keep going, you’ll get the idea.”

What the hell was he going on about? Still, it didn’t matter really, this stuff was really good! Chalk knocked back the third, and again, another mug appeared.

“Gotta be magic that! Look at him go!” One muttered.

“No way. Cap’n wouldn’t allow anypony to do that, they’d be overboard before they knew it.”

“Mebbe he don’t know that, eh?”

Chalk was halfway down the mug when he began to feel the tingling in his lips beginning to spread. Goddesses, it was spreading to his ears! He reached up in alarm as his whole face began to feel numb. Several of the ponies began to nod to each other and smile. Others frowned, hoofing over bits.

“I tell ya, it ain’t normal!” One grumbled, “How the buck can he put all that away?”

“He’s not finished yet!”

“Get him another!”

Stock held up a hoof, silencing the throng and turned to Chalk,

“You okay?”

Chalk blinked, “Um…dunno…can’t feel…my face, I think I’m…oh, Celestia…”

“Grab him somepony!” One of the crew yelled, but Stock was already on it. He grabbed Chalk as he toppled and hoisted him onto his shoulder like a sack of grain before walking over to the cream and brown stallion sporting a silver mane and numerous scars,

“I make that four. Pay up, Salty.”

“Luna’s plump backside…here!” The older pony slammed a hoofful of bits into a bag and tossed it to Stock who deftly caught it in his mouth,

“Thanks, shipmate.”

“Bah!”

The cream and brown pony folded his forelegs and pouted whilst the others around him roared with laughter and teased him as the music burst into life once more. Stock kicked open one of the side doors to a store room and dumped the unconscious Chalk Dust onto a pallet full of hay. He shook his head and closed the door, re-opening it a second later and placed a bucket next to the white pony’s head. Nodding to himself he left,

“Think you’ll be needing that” he muttered under his breath.

The door closed, plunging the room into darkness.

Pushing his way back through the throng, Stock returned to his seat and took a piece of cheese, nibbling on it thoughtfully. Chalk Dust was an interesting fellow. He’d taken him for a coward at first, the way he’d curled up into a ball in the enclosure back in Nightmare Moon’s camp, but the way he’d fought those minotaurs and that griffin… He chewed the cheese slowly, savouring the taste. Yes, that shot with the crossbow was really something.

“Hey big guy”

Stock looked down into the deep purple eyes of Cyclone. Her scars had healed well, he thought absently. She’d never be the same again of course, but at least she was alive. He took a swig of his ale and nodded to her,

“Bosun”

“Still so formal” She sighed, stretching a crick out of her neck, “I thought you’d have lightened up a bit by now.”

Stock sniffed, “I’ve got a long memory Cyclone, as long as it needs to be.”

“Oh for the goddesses sake, Stock, how long can you hold something against somepony?” The Bosun rolled her eyes, “Do you really hate me that much?”

The brown stallion shrugged, “I don’t hate you, I just…”

“Stock…please…” Cyclone reached out to him with her hoof.

Stock stared it, his expression unreadable. Cyclone closed her eyes and took it away, instead picking up her mug. She gritted her teeth, willing the anger and pain away but it just wouldn’t go away would it? No matter how much she willed it to, no matter how hard she tried. How could be like this even after all these years?! That stubborn bloody…arse!

The green mare took a deep breath. Desperate to change the subject, she picked the first thing that popped into her mind and quickly regretted her hasty decision,

“What do you make of that unicorn then?”

“He seems okay” Stock rumbled.

Cyclone sniffed, “But, a unicorn? On board our ship? The crew don’t like it, Stock.”

“Ain’t our decision to make.”

“I know,” Cyclone said taking a pickled onion, “But still, unicorns are bad luck, you know that as much as I do.”

“Like I said, it ain’t our decision to make. Cap’n’ll decide.”

“Pfff! The Captain? She’s up to her fetlocks in him every night!” Cyclone laughed bitterly, “We all know what those two are getting up to. You could hear them going at it all…”

Stock slammed his mug down hard, “I’m getting another drink” he said gruffly and got up do go to bar mare. Returning a minute later, he all but threw himself onto the crate and stared past the green mare, focussing on the dancing.

Cyclone’s blood was up. How the hell could he cold shoulder her like that? It was that bloody unicorn’s fault wasn’t it? Ever since that bloody creature had come aboard, it was all anypony could talk about, and now Stock had been bewitched by him too!

“I tell you it’s bad luck to have a unicorn on board, Stock.” She said angrily, “The sooner we get to port and get shot of him and the rest of that lot in the hold the better.”

“’Bad luck’” Stock grumbled, swigging a mouthful of ale, “You’re one to talk about superstition Cylone. I’d have thought more of you than that”

The green mare’s eyes grew wide and she sat up, opening her mouth to reply.

“Oh, it ain’t superstition Master Stock” It was the older cream and brown pony. Stock cringed inwardly; the crusty old bugger had ears like a damned bat.

“I can tell you, one and all,” the old hoof continued, “everypony here who has a pair of ears to listen!”

“Oh goddesses…” Stock groaned, “Not…”

“…The story of the Raven’s Eye!”

The brown stallion murmured under his breath, “I bloody knew it…”

Standing on his hind legs, the older stallion waved his hooves for quiet, the musicians putting down their instruments and watching him as he made sure he had everyponies attention,

“Aye, the Raven’s Eye, the most beautiful sky galleon to ever sail the blue skies of the Crystal Empire and the world…” he waved a hoof dramatically, “BEYOND!”

Stock stared into his drink. It was going to be a long night.

**********************

“Oh…oh god…goddesses…I…” Chalk’s stomach threw up another stream of vomit into the bucket, “Oh, kill me! Celestia’s arse…” A racking cough led to another stomach creasing gout that was now rapidly filling the improvised container. Sweat was pouring down his face, his hooves gripping the side of the bucket for all it was worth, “Why didn’t somepony stop me! Oh…goddess…not, not again…!” Chalk’s stomach cramped up painfully and he vomited what must be, had to be, the last of it. Wasn’t it? Oh goddesses, there was more!

Doc trotted in carrying a bowl of what looked like steaming rice pudding and a large flagon of liquid. The stallion shook his head at the sight of the stricken unicorn. Gretel knelt beside Chalk, stroking his back with one hoof and holding back his mane with the other. She looked round angrily at the medical officer,

“When I find out who did this to him, Doc, there’ll be bloody hell to pay.” She cooed at her patient as he retched loudly, “It’s alright Chalky, it’ll be okay, the doctors here.”

“Hmph.” The blue stallion snorted, “You mothering him like that won’t be helping Gretel. He’s a grown stallion you know.”

“I know that!” She snapped back angrily, “And don’t you dare start lecturing me, Doc. Whatever you may think of him, he’s a guest aboard the Revenge and I will be damned if I let some bloody comedian half poison him.”

Doc set down his things and picked up a cloth, “I don’t know about ‘half’ poisoning him, and besides, from what I heard he pretty much poisoned himself.”

“With Balta!” Gretel snarled, “For the goddess’s sake, Doc, you know what effect that stuff has on ponies!”

He knew when to back down, and now was one of those times. Shrugging off Gretel’s remarks, Doc wiped Chalks muzzle and lifted his chin,

“Chalk? Listen to me, you have to drink this. I know it tastes like crap, but it’ll help, do you understand?”

As weak as he was, Chalk nodded, the action of which nearly had him throwing up yet again. Unwilling to relinquish his grip on the bucket, Doc had to lift a bowl of the medicine to Chalk’s lips while Gretel looked on worriedly. The powerful smell of mint was so strong it made his eyes water, but he managed to take a quick sip before his stomach heaved, making him gasp for air,

“I…I can’t…”

Gretel stroked his forehead and ears, keeping her voice as calm as possible,

“You have to Chalky, please?”

Chalk managed to glance up, his bloodshot eyes painfully sensitive to the light in the room despite the curtains being closed. This wasn’t happening, was it? He was in his bunk, warm and snug, not sitting here puking his guts out. But Gretel was here, her eyes pleading with him to do this one thing. Goddess damn it, his stomach and head…everything! It was like being on fire inside and out! Resisting the urge to shake his sweat slicked mane, Chalk released the bucket, grabbed the bowl and downed it.

The effect was immediate.

His stomach rebelled, churning and bubbling like some furious cauldron, the overwhelming smell and taste of mint an almost living thing within him. He gasped and cough, collapsing to the floor as a bout of intense shaking took him. Gretel looked up at the Doc,

“What the hell’s this, Doc? What have you done to him?”

“Calm down, Gretel” he replied clucking his tongue irritably, “It’s an infusion made with Foalswood and Speartree, it’ll calm his insides down and stop him being sick. When he’s settled down we’ll have to get plenty of fluids and salt into him.” Doc peered into Chalk’s eyes, nodding, “He’s very dehydrated and will need to be watched for the next few hours. You can leave him in sickbay of you like, I’ll…”

“-I will look after him”, Gretel cut in, “this is my responsibility, I’m the Captain of this ship.”

Doc shook his head, “Gretel, I know you have feelings for this pony, but if you start giving him special treatment it will make the crew resentful of him, and they’re already...”

“Damn it, I know Doc!” Gretel snapped, “I…” she stomped a hoof, “I know.”

The Captain turned away, staring at the door, “Just…make sure he’s okay Doc. If you need anything…”

“I know, Gretel.” Doc lay a hoof on her shoulder, “Go and get some rest yourself, you’ve been up for hours and a tired Captain can’t command her ship effectively.”

“Doctors orders?”

Doc smiled, “Doctors orders.”

Letting out a sigh, the red mare gave the prostrated form of Chalk a quick nuzzle before leaving him in the care of the ships doctor. Doc watched her go and shook his head sadly,

“You’re a very lucky pony, Mister Chalk Dust” he said quietly, “very lucky indeed.”

Outside on the deck, Gretel leaned back against the wall of the quarterdeck and took in the early morning air. Doc was right, she was exhausted. What the hell had possessed Chalk to drink that stuff? She rubbed her face with her hoof. Somepony on the crew must have snuck a barrel aboard. When she found out who it was she’d…

She sighed. What was the point? If nothing else, Chalk had bonded more with the crew, even if the miserable rats who plied him with that stuff had nearly poisoned him in the process. The worst part of it all was Doc was right, she was treating Chalky differently. Before long, they could indeed start to resent the white unicorn and then that whole ‘bad luck unicorn’ thing would manifest itself in all the worst possible ways. For now though, he’d been accepted, if only a little. When he was better, she’d have to find a job for him on board that had would prove useful and help blend him in as a valued crewmate as well as…whatever he was to her.

The image of Chalk’s face, his big green eyes and that adorable smile, flashed through her mind. She lifted her hooves and stared at them. His fur had been so soft, his mane like a gentle river of gold and the way his kisses had her sent shockwaves through her body like she’d never experienced before in her life… Gretel shook her head. He was good for her, and yet, in a way, he wasn’t. He was too distracting, and she was becoming obsessed with him, dangerously so.

“Cap’n, we’ll be making port in the next few hours”

Haggis smiled over at her, his toothy grin catching the early morning light.

“Don’t you ever go to bed?” Gretel smiled, chuckling slightly despite herself, “Sometimes I think you’re having a love affair with my ship, Mister Haggis”

“Oh, me and the old girl have a special relationship, Cap’n” Haggis quipped, “She responds to my touch, tells me how she feels and sometimes kicks like a mule.” He laughed, “You never met my ex-wife did you?”

Gretel shook her head’ “Can’t say that I did. Did she kick like a mule?”

“Nope” Haggis said, “Like a draft horse! Broke my jaw when she caught me flirting with one of the local flower girls. That pretty much ended our relationship.”

Gretel stretched, adjusting her coat, “And then you joined our merry band, eh?”

“Aye, that I did Cap’n”

She lay a hoof on his shoulder, “And it’s good to have you with us, Haggis. It’s good to have a knowledgeable pony at the helm. Take good care of her now.”

“Aye, Aye, Cap’n.”

Haggis watched the Captain disappear into her cabin and shut the door behind her. She was a good mare, a real mare, one they all trusted and respected. That young stallion was just the thing she needed too. He’d noticed how much livelier and spritely Gretel had appeared in the short time since she’d met him. Ever since she’d lost her father, there’d been a sadness to her, barely noticeable to most, but he’d seen it nonetheless. The Revenge knew it too, she felt her Captain, understood her feelings, her whims. Everypony needed somepony, even if they didn’t realise it themselves. Haggis smiled his toothy smile and gently held the ships wheel, feeling the barely perceptible movement of the ship around him,

“Aye, we all need our special somepony, don’t we my darling?” Quietly, the ships timbers creaked and groaned around him. He smiled, “Aye,” he whispered, “that we do.”

Chapter Thirteen - Cutie Marks

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CUTIE MARKS

Dray hefted his pack and lifted his head high before setting off down the main thoroughfare towards the docks. It really was a beautiful evening, with the sun dipping beneath the hills in the distance adding a calming sensation that took the edge off the bitterness in his heart. The smells of the forest too, drifting in on the cooling breeze, made him smile wryly to himself despite how he felt inside. He closed his eyes a moment, letting his hooves guide him, feeling the cobbles beneath them. It was the last time he’d ever be here, in the castle, probably even in the heartlands. Despite the shock of being dismissed, it was a hell of a lot better than what he’d expected.

A few steps behind him, the young Lieutenant walked along like the spirit of a soul lost in purgatory. Dray felt for him, but didn’t feel he owed him anything. Cove had gotten himself into this mess simply by talking with him, but it was still his life; the lad needed to decide what he was going to do with himself, for himself. Dray sighed. For all he knew, that sneaky rat Ochre had planned all of this and the Lieutenant coming along could be simply another way of spying on him from afar. He shook his head sadly. Regardless of who was at fault, the Lieutenant was still a soldier and soldiers looked after each other, didn’t they?

“Oh, sod it!” he grumbled to himself out loud.

Lieutenant Cove looked up, casting him a glance that said all he needed to know about the youthful fellow’s emotional state right then. He was broken, his dreams destroyed through the simple act of asking about his brother. Ochre didn’t care though, he wasn’t bothered about things like family, all he was interested was control and his own selfish interests. He’d also seemed a little ‘unhinged’, Dray thought to himself, a pony who wasn’t far from the edge of insanity, if not teetering on it already. He looked about at the ponies inside the castles walls, the way they acted as if he didn’t exist, nor even spoke to one another. Once, not long ago, this place had been a hive of activity and life, with songs and dancing, street vending, juggling…everything! Now, now it was as if the place were inhabited by ghosts, living ghosts, drifting along in a never changing day to day world of their own design, oblivious to everypony and everything around them. Dray knew then that Ochre, not the Legion, would likely be the death of the Equestria he knew.

The two stallions’ hoofsteps echoed along the almost deserted riverfront. The sun was setting now and most ponies would be heading indoors for warmth and safety. There were no more evening parties here, no more dancing by lamplight in the streets. It might not be overt, but Dray had seen this before: the thinly disguised fear that lurked amongst the population. It had in all likelihood been there from the very beginning, those first days of the invasion, striking deeply and unknowingly into hearts that had known only peace for so long a time as anypony could remember.

Equestrians had always been a flighty lot of course, by nature more prone to flight than fight, but many were still ready to stand by the side of their fellows when the need arose. Some however, those too old, too weak or too young, had suffered the most when the invasion came. The Legion had simply rolled over them; the shock and impetus of their attack leaving many villages and towns isolated behind enemy lines, not even realising they were at war until Nightmare Moon’s troops walked past their door. These were dark days indeed, and right then, it seemed there was little light left in the world to dare to hope. Dray let out a breath. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad with Nightmare Moon in charge. After all, she was still a princess of Equestria and with Celestia gone, or, he corrected himself, ‘probably gone’, she still help a place in the hearts of many. Dray sighed to himself. It was pointless thinking about things he couldn’t change. He wasn’t an officer any more, he was simply…Dray, the farmer’s son. Perhaps, in some ways, he always had been. He shrugged; his destination lay not far ahead, and from there…home.

The trim little wooden house on the edge of the dock was neatly finished in blue and white paint, with an anchor leaning up against the side of the porch. Red flowers sat in what looked like old chimney stacks beside the front door. There was a light on inside and the sound of raised voices. Dray rapped smartly on the door and waited. Eventually the door opened a crack and the shaky voice of the male occupant drifted out,

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, my good sir” Dray bowed, “My colleague and I have need of transportation.”

“Do you know what time it is?” the voice replied.

“Around six I would say” Dray smiled, “We need passage sir, and are willing to pay.”

There was a snort, “Humph! I should hope so! Hang on I’ll…”

A female voice called out from the back of the house, “Dear?”

“Just a minute…” the first voice replied and faded away back into the house where an urgent discussion was soon being held. A few minutes later the stallion returned,

“What’s your name?”

“My name? It’s Dray, and this is Cove, we want…”

The door began to close, “-Sorry, I can’t help you. I’m sorry…”

“What?!” Dray slammed a hoof against the door, “What do you mean ‘you can’t help us’?”

The pony inside peered back through the gap, a tinge of fear in his eyes, “Look, I just can’t! Try to understand, if…if Ochre find’s out I helped you then…”

Dray nodded resignedly, “I understand. Forgive me for inconveniencing you sir. I wish you and your lady a good night.”

The door closed.

“Well” Dray said to nopony in particular, “Guess its Shanks’ pony then. Up for a walk Lieutenant?”

Silence.

Dray shrugged, “And off we go!”

They hadn’t gone very far when a clatter of hooves behind them made Dray spin round. The tiny yellow pegasus foal before him came to a sudden halt and landed, skidding on his haunches.

“Here!” he squeaked, “Daddy says to give you this.”

Without another word, the foal was back up on his hooves and racing away towards the rear of the blue and white house. In his wake, was a rolled up piece of paper. Unrolling it, Dray read out the hastily written note :

Trout Wharf

One hour

Trout Wharf eh? Dray smiled. Maybe fate had given him a break after all. Still, it was an hour away and regardless of Ochre’s threat, he wanted to get as far away from this place as possible anyway. The longer he stayed, the more he saw, the more the capital of Equestria began to look like a piece of fruit that when you bit into, you found a maggot living at its core. Goddesses forgive him, he’d never been much of a monarchist, but he wished Celestia was back. If ever they needed her, it was now. Instead, they had selfishness, greed and corruption sitting on the throne.

Lost in his ruminations, Dray suddenly realised he’d run out of walkway and found himself staring at a large wooden sign hanging from the dock wall. A roughly painted fish sat below the letters proclaiming ‘Trout Wharf’. Good old hooves, had a mind of their own sometimes, Dray thought to himself as he sank to his haunches. The aches and pains from the day’s early start to the emotional turmoil of the last few hours were beginning to take their toll. He wasn’t as young as he had been and by the Goddesses, it had been a long day.

The two ex-soldiers sat in the shadow of a lean-to which stank of fish. It was probably used by griffins; those bloody things would eat anything. Come to think of it, it was a shame they hadn’t had that many with them in the army. In fact, most of the griffins he’d seen had sided with Nightmare Moon. As for why, who could say? He noticed Cove looking up and followed his gaze. There, in the scant early evening light, were four ponies trotting towards them, two of them pulling carts laden with gear. They drew closer, until the familiar voice of the fellow from the dockside house called to him in a strained tone,

“Don’t just stand there, give me a hoof for Celestia’s sake!”

In the gathering darkness, the bronze coloured unicorn stallion nodded towards an inclined wooden pier which lead to a sizeable riverboat. There were lanterns here, but rather unhelpfully, none of them were actually lit and it was hard to see where the pier ended and the water began. The unicorn however didn’t have any such problems, effortlessly grabbing boxes, cases and bags in his magic which he threw hastily into a pile on the deck while Dray helped the mare and foals onboard. Anxiety radiated from the male like a bonfire, not helped by the fact that he kept nervously looking up to stare along the dock. It was infectious too; even Dray found himself looking over his shoulder and checking to see if his sword was free in its scabbard. Horribly, he realised he’d left it in the camp when he’d been ‘collected’ by the Lieutenant and his friends. Fortunately the young officer still had his, but by the state he was in he was unlikely to be of much use in the event of a fight.

The riverpony mumbled urgently under his breath, the mare quickly rushing to prepare the vessel for departure while the foals helped their father shift the luggage below decks. He looked up at Dray, his golden eyes flashing in the moonlight,

“If you want to come aboard, cast off the mooring lines and jump on quick.”

Without another word he went back to work, leaving the Colonel to untie the rope securing the riverboat to the mooring point. Thankfully, the Lieutenant had come out of his malaise at least long enough to untie his end and with a slight slopping sound of water, the boat began to rock freely,

“Come on!” The bronze stallion hissed, looking around him like a scared cat.

Dray backed up, ready to jump down, and paused. He looked round to see Cover just standing there, the young Lieutenant looking stricken,

“Cove!” he hissed, “Come on damn it, get your bones on board!”

The young officer stood stock still, his blue eyes wide and staring. He looked utterly lost, the shock of losing everything he’d worked for had simply been too much. To jump aboard the boat was like admitting it had changed…gone forever.

Quickly, Dray trotted up to him and gave him a sharp crack across the skull with his hoof, staring him right in the eyes,

“Lieutenant Cove, as your superior officer I order you to get onto that boat immediately. MOVE!”

Cove shifted, his mouth working silently as the light of awareness slowly began to re-appear in the young officer’s eyes. In an almost mechanical fashion, he backed up and then leaped from the dock, effortlessly clearing the gap and landed neatly on the deck. Dray followed, the alien feel of the vessel moving on the water making him feel immediately queasy. He took a breath and looked up at the sky to re-orientate himself. The stars were coming out high above and…was that a pegasus? Something fast flew across the sky, darting between the clouds and not all that far away either. Pegasi flying at night wasn’t that unusual of course, but there was something about that pony’s flight path and the effortless sweep of their wings that Dray recognised. Cold realisation hit him; it was the same one that he’d noticed shadowing them on the way to the castle. He shook his mane and snorted. They were being watched.

“What’s up, are we being followed?” the bronze stallion asked.

Dray shook his head, “No”, he lied, “No, I don’t believe so. Please, Master…?”

“Sweep Galliard. That’s my wife, Lemon Flower, little one’s are Charcoal and Duster.” His face remained set in grim determination, “Now, no more time for chat. Make yourselves useful and give the children a hoof to get the gear stowed away. After that, just keep out of our way, understand?”

“Understood Master Galliard”, Dray replied giving Cove a nudge, “You heard the stallion, Lieutenant, let’s shake a leg.”

It didn’t take long. The cases, boxes and other containers of quite clearly hastily assembled belongings looked to be all the family had been able to rescue before their rush to the boat. Dray pushed the last of the boxes into place as the foals tied them down to stop the cargo slipping. The youths were tiny, no higher than his knees, and yet they moved around the boat with an ease born of practice. They’d take after their parents some day, of that there was no doubt. But what was going really on here? He’d have to ask…

“Don’t go up on deck, mister” The yellow pegasus foal squeaked in his tiny voice, “Daddy doesn’t like it when he’s getting under way”

“Oh, I see” Dray smiled, “I’m Dray and this is Cove by the way. What’s your name shipmate?”

The foal smiled, “I’m Duster, and that’s my sister, Charcoal” he nodded towards the dark grey unicorn foal that was busy securing hammocks further along the hold. She glanced back at them a moment with her bright blue eyes and then returned to her work, seemingly disinterested.

“You want something to eat?” The young Duster asked, “We’ve got some travel cakes and hard tack. Only water to drink though.”

Dray had forgotten just how hungry he was. Neither he nor the Lieutenant had eaten since first light and the mere mention of food set his stomach to growling, even if it was basic fare. Right then, he would be glad of anything. In fairness though, he’d actually managed to wrangle some travel food from the kindly cooks in the castle kitchens, but he was reluctant to dip into his precious supplies when provisions were being offered. He nodded to the foal and pulled up a sack of grain to sit on, motioning the still silent Lieutenant Cove to do the same.

Duster trotted over a few minutes later with a plate full of what appeared to be a type of scone, a stack of plain hard tack and a jug of water plus a couple of mugs. He filled the mugs and picked up a scone,

“It’s a good idea to have some water first”, Duster said in his squeaky voice, “the scones can scratch a bit as you swallow.”

Oh goody! Dray thought to himself as he lifted one of the hard lumpy things from the plate. Looking at it, the ‘food’ being offered would probably make a very useful addition to the army. He could see it now: the pegasi diving down and bombarding the thestrals below with Lemon Flowers’ home baked scones. It would be nothing short of carnage.

“What’s funny?” Duster asked giving him a curious look.

“Oh, nothing” Dray smiled, “Just wondering how your mum made these scones so delicious.”

Duster burst out laughing, his little wings buzzing as he rolled around, shaking with mirth, “Delicious?!” He squeaked trying to catch his breath, “Nopony’s ever called them that before!” The little foal wiped his eyes with a foreleg, “They’re horrible!”

Dray raised an eyebrow and shrugged, taking a tentative bite. How bad could they be? He began to chew, eventually even trying to choke the thing down. Duster was right, they really were bloody awful. That said, they’d stave off hunger and that was what was really important. Taste was secondary. Just as well really…

The boat creaked around them, the sound of the sloshing water outside amplified by the relatively small interior. In the background however, a strange ‘chugging’ noise seemed to be drifting from behind a door to the rear of the hold: a constant, low beat that drew Dray’s attention. Duster noticed him looking and waved a half eaten scone,

“That’s the ‘boiler box’ daddy bought from the wizard. It’s really cool! Do you want to have a look?”

The Colonel nodded, swigging another mouthful of water to wash down the scone,

“Sure!”

Duster trotted over to the door and twisted the handle, pulling it open to reveal a small cupboard like room with a shuddering, steaming ‘thing’ on the floor. It was the most peculiar assemblage of brass pipes, tubes, globes, boxes and goddesses knew what else, Dray had ever seen. The ‘boiler box’ shook, popped, and hissed alarmingly, all the while emitting odd puffs of steam which made the room surprisingly warm. Duster took a long metal hook and used it to pull open a tray on the device. To Dray’s amazement, the little pegasus proceeded to drop two of his mother’s scones onto it and pushed it shut. Pulling a chain hanging from a brass armature of some kind, the device hissed and shuddered even more violently than it had, before settling back down to its more regular shudder.

“Have to keep it fed, the wizard told me”, Duster grinned, “It likes mums scones best.”

“I can see that!” Dray sputtered, “What is it? I’ve never seem anything like it!”

“Oh, the wizard said there’s a fire imp inside that heats the water and the water spins something that moves the ‘propeller’ outside.” Duster nodded to himself knowingly, “That makes the boat go way faster than using sails.” he lifted a lid, pouring some water down into it from a can, “He gets thirsty sometimes too.”

“Did you say a fire imp?” Dray stuttered, “I’ve never heard of such a thing!”

“They live near Firetop Mountain,” Duster explained, “it’s where a lot of big dragons live. It’s very hot there too, dad says, but the imps don’t like the dragons very much.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, his voice dropping almost a whisper, “I think the dragons eat them!”

“So what’s one doing, living in this…thing?” The Colonel asked waving a hoof toward the ‘boiler box’.

Duster looked at him like he’d asked why water was wet, “He likes mums scones of course, silly billy.” The small foal rolled his eyes and then closed the door.

A familiar stallions voice called down from the hatchway,

“Dusty? Can you ask our guests to come up on deck please love?”

“Okay, daddy” Duster looked up at Dray with his big eyes, “You’d best go up mister Dray, daddy gets snappy when he’s captaining.”

Snappy, eh? Dray thought to himself wryly, “Well then”, he said giving the foal a wide smile, “I’d best see what daddy wants then hadn’t I?”

Nimbly, he climbed the steps onto the deck and found the good captain leaning against the tiller. The unicorn’s eyes were fixed on the wide river ahead, the sparkling water picked out by the moonlight and stars above. He spared Dray a quick glance before returning to his vigil,

“Where do want dropping off, Dray?”

That was…blunt. Dray gave his back a quick stretch, “I’m heading for Hockspeth, a little village off the…”

“-I know where it is.” The captain cut in rudely. A moment later he shook his head, “Look, I’m sorry, I’m just stressed and tired is all. I’ll take you to Heifers Leap, it as near to Hockspeth as I can travel.”

Dray nodded, “Thank you, Captain Galliard. Let me know if I can do anything to help around the ship.”

The bronze stallion raised an eyebrow, “Will you now?” He chuckled, the first time Dray had seen the pony looking anything other than worried sick, “I may take you up on that offer mister Dray, or should I say, ‘Colonel’ Dray?”

“Just Dray will do”, the Colonel replied, “You know who I am?”

“Of course,” Galliard replied with a shrug of his shoulders, “you were the army commander weren’t you?”

“’Were’ being the operative word.” Dray said sadly, “A difference of opinion with Lord Ochre you could say.”

“You are a master of understatement my friend”, Galliard laughed, “I’ll give you that!”

“Oh?”

“Word gets around quickly at the capital, and the maids at the castle love gossip more than most.” Galliard scratched his nose a moment and motioned to the small box beside him, “Get us a tot each, eh Dray? Could do with something to keep me warm. I guess you could too.”

The box contained several items useful for a tillerpony: a set of waterproofs, packs of ships biscuits, a water flask, and a bottle of rum with a couple of collapsible shot cups. Dray passed one to Galliard and nodded his thanks before downing the warming spirit,

“Damn, that’s powerful stuff!” He gasped, loudly.

Galliard laughed, “Not used to it eh? Try night and day stuck to this thing.”

The bronze pony visible relaxed and the two stood quietly for a time watching the river ripple past, while below decks the thrumming of the mysterious device plodded away like the vessels heartbeat.

“Gal”

Dray raised his eyebrows, “Hmm?”

“Call me Gal,” The bronze coated Captain said, “I never did like Galliard. Lemon only calls me that when I’m being told off. My folks did too.”

Smiling, Dray nodded, “Of course.” He thought a moment, his curiosity getting the better of him, “Gal, forgive me if i’m being nosey, but the amount of luggage you brought aboard…” He took a breath, “I feel that I’m responsible for bringing misfortune to your door.”

Gal adjusted his grip on the tiller and rubbed his eyes, “No” he said solemnly, “We’d already decided to leave, you were only the, er…’catalyst’ we needed to get our flanks in gear.” He shook his head sadly, “Dray, look, I don’t know if you know what’s been happening at the capital since Lord Ochre took over from the princess, but there’s been a lot of disappearances.”

“Disappearances?” Dray asked curiously.

“Usually ponies who disagree with him” Gal explained, “Got to the point where nopony would say so much as boo to a goose around the place. Soon, folks started to leave, just odd ones at first, but it became increasingly noticeable. That was when the notices started coming around.”

Drays ears pricked up, “What notices?”

“More threat than notice, really.” Gal shrugged, “Rules, regulations, laws, you name it. Soon it became so complicated, nopony knew whether they were breaking one of those crazy new laws or not. That was when we decided we had to get away. I don’t want my children growing up there, Dray, not when at any minute Lemon or I could…”

He didn’t need to say any more. Dear goddesses, Dray thought bitterly, what the hell had that fool Ochre done to their home?

“We heard you’d arrived at the castle under guard” Gal said quietly, taking another tot of rum, “Word got round you’d been ‘marked’ by the lord and when you arrived at our house, well…” he paused, “Ochre has eyes and ears everywhere. What the princess was thinking when she let him advise her, I have no idea.”

Dray’s ear twitched involuntarily, “Gal, you said I’d been ‘marked’?”

“Well, it may only be rumour Dray, after all if he really wanted you dead you wouldn’t be talking to me now, so maybe you’re not.” Gal replied, “But anyway, the folk call somepony ‘marked’ when they started being watched by Ochre’s goons. Like I said earlier, usually they were ponies who’d spoken out against him or upset him in some way and goddesses know there was a long enough list! Anyway, sure enough, they’d start disappearing one by one. Some of ‘em, the smart ones, got the hell out when they realised he was eyeballing them.” Gal waved a hoof in the air, “I think you get the idea.”

“Yes…” Dray murmured, “Yes, I think I do.” He sank to his haunches and poured another rum. “So, you think your family was marked too?”

“No.” Gal replied yawning, “Lemon worked at the bakers and had her ear to the ground with the castle staff. She didn’t hear our names mentioned, but she heard enough to frighten her, so we decided to leave.” Gal glance up at Dray, “I know it’s off topic, Dray, but…is it true then, about Celestia?”

The Colonel sighed and closed his eyes, “What have you heard?”

“That she died during the fighting,” Gal said, “killed by that monster, Nightmare Moon. The whole castle was abuzz with it, and I think Ochre liked it that some looked to him as a sort of replacement for her. He certainly didn’t waste any time moving onto the throne.”

“I don’t know what to tell you Gal.” Dray said sadly, “The princess fought Nightmare Moon, that’s true, but so far we knew she was winning, at least until a dragon appeared from nowhere and the next thing we knew, she was diving down to the ground behind enemy lines.” He shrugged, “We haven’t seen her since, but whether she’s alive or dead, I wish I could say.”

“But the sun still rises,” Gal said, “surely without the princess we’d be in perpetual darkness?”

Shrugging, Dray adjusted his cloak, the cold of the evening was starting to make itself felt, “That’s true, Gal, that’s true. I can only hope and pray that she’ll come back some day and restore our home back to the way it was.”

“I hope so”, the bronze pony said nodding his head slowly, “I really do.”

The dull thudding from below continued, a thing trail of bubbles rising from the stern as the boat moved quietly down the river. Gal reached across and pulled on a lever, and almost instantly, the thudding noise began to slow.

“Need to take this bend nice and easy” he said to nopony in particular, “been a few bumps here in the past.”

Dray peered over the stern, “Remarkable craft you have, Gal. I’ve never heard of one using fire imps for propulsion before.”

“Big mouth been at it again has he?” Gal shook his head, “I don’t suppose it’s much of a secret now, but yes, I traded the boiler box for an map my dad had kept from his seafaring days. I felt a bit guilty selling it to be honest, but when I saw the boiler box, I knew I had to have it.” He shrugged, “You can’t imagine how long it takes to punt up the river when there’s no wind. Besides, all I need to do is keep the imp well fed with Lemon’s goddess awful scones and it’s happy as Larry.”

“I noticed.” Dray chuckled.

“Tried one did you?” Gal laughed, “For the goddess’s sake, don’t tell Lemon what we do with them, Dray. She thinks we absolutely love them and can’t put them away fast enough!”

Dray smirked and shook his head. The Captain was quite the character. “Your secrets safe, Gal.” he said, stretching his hind legs, “Any idea how long the journey may take?”

“Few days I reckon,” Gal replied, “I’ve not been that far upriver for a while. I just hope the Legion’s not…you know.”

“I don’t think they’re interested in farming communities.” Dray said honestly, “So far they’ve mostly moved on strategic points, military outposts and such like. The goddesses know, we didn’t exactly have that many in the first place.”

“I hope you’re right my friend,” Gal said resignedly, “I really do. Lemon and the foals deserve somewhere safe to live, and I don’t give a toss who’s in charge so long as they leave us alone to get on with our lives in peace.”

Dray nodded. He couldn’t blame Gal for feeling that way. His young family needed him and he wanted to protect them the best he could. Goddesses knew he’d probably do the same in his situation, but…he hadn’t had he? He’d left her, his beloved wife and children while he answered the call of his country…again. Now, after everything he’d done, he’d been dismissed like so much discarded tat: unwanted and surplus to requirements. Dray took a deep breath and looked up at the stars. They were beautiful tonight; so cold, so distant, and yet somehow eternally enchanting. When you thought about it, when you boiled everything right down to what truly mattered in life, it was family…always family. And now, he was going home.

“You boys hungry?”

A pastel yellow mare with a cream and green striped mane and tail trotted up balancing a tray on her back with a selection of what looked like pies, cakes and something steaming in a jug.

“Thanks love”, Gal smiled, levitating the tray from her and placing it neatly on the chest beside him, “Get yourself below and keep warm, we’ll be alright.”

The mare nodded and gave Dray a slightly furtive smile before vanishing back below decks.

“She’s angry with me,” Gal laughed, “Won’t say anything with you here mind, but I’ll catch all sorts of hell when we drop you off.”

Dray didn’t know what to say, other than, “Sorry Gal.”

The pony laughed even louder, “Don’t be! She’s always angry. Angry at the way Lord Ochre simply took over from Celestia, angry that her friends started disappearing, and then angry that we left.” He looked out over the river wistfully, “But you know, I love her Dray. She’s my life and my world, the mother of our two beautiful foals. How could I stay there and risk all that?”

“You couldn’t” Dray answered honestly, “I don’t think you had much choice.”

Held in the glow from his magic, Gal lifted the tray, “Here, they’re lentil and leek pies. There’s hot dandelion and burdock in the pitcher. It’s a bit of an acquired taste but I have to say I love the stuff. Bit sweet if you’re not used to it though.”

He was right. Taking a mouthful, Dray’s tongue began to tingle, the sweet flavour and floral aroma was unlike anything he’d ever had before. In a strange way it reminded him of home, of sun bathed days in summer whilst working the land with his father. He could feel his emotions stirring, the image of his beloved wife in his minds eye. He caught Gal watching him, a knowing smile on his face.

“Good?”

“Aye” Dray admitted, “I’ve never had anything like it, Gal. Your own recipe?”

“Lemon’s,” He replied, his eyes glinting, ”non-alcoholic of course, but then you don’t want a drunkard piloting your boat do you?”

The two chuckled and began tucking into the equally delicious morsels provided by Lemon Flower.

“You have any family, Dray?” Gal asked.

The Colonel nodded, swallowing another bite of the mouth watering pie,

“I do, my wife Honeysuckle and two foals, my boy Polo and daughter Dawn Dew”.

Gal smiled, “It’s good to have somepony to come home to. I suppose I’m lucky that mine often travel with me and help out.” He laughed, “Sometimes it’s good to get away for some ‘me’ time of course, but there’s things you can’t do on your own, if you know what I mean.” He gave Dray a knowing wink.

The Colonel laughed, “Aye, I’ll admit I’ve missed my Honey a lot these last few months. Army life is no place for a married pony.”

Gal nodded, “A dangerous occupation”

“It is, although mostly boring.” Dray reasoned with a knowing chuckle, “Standing about all day doesn’t do your hooves any good, I can tell you.”

The boat continued along the river; the occasional cry of a fox in the distance or hoot of an owl the only noticeable sounds other than the gurgling of the water and thrum of the boiler box. It had a decidedly calming effect on the soul, Dray thought to himself. He would have liked this life: the freedom, the ability to just simply travel wherever the river took you.

“You look all in” Gal said suddenly, clopping Dray on the shoulder, “Get yourself below, and get some sleep. Charcoal should have the hammocks up by now.”

“Thanks, Gal.” Dray said rubbing his eyes, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Trotting over to the hatch, Dray descended into the almost blinding light of the hold. Lemon Flower was there, busily trying to wash the crumbs from a struggling yellow foal’s mouth. He had to laugh, Duster’s tiny wings buzzed furiously as he tried to pull away from the flannel’s assault on his face.

“Mister Dray?” It was the little grey foal, Charcoal.

“Yes, little one?”

Her large blue eyes stared up at him, “Do you have a cutie mark?”

“Charcoal!” Lemon said irritably, “Don’t ask such rude questions!”

“It’s alright ma’am,” Dray replied smiling, “Here, look…”

Dray pulled his cloak back to reveal the three barrels emblazoned on his flank.

“Cor! Look at that!” Duster exclaimed finally breaking free of his mother, “I’d like that one!”

“What about your friend?” the curious Charcoal asked.

She trotted over to the Lieutenant who was still sitting where Dray had left him when he went up on deck. The fellow still had that far away look. He had to admit, he was starting to worry about his state of mind. Dray called over to him,

“Lieutenant Cove?”

The white stallion looked up, his haunted expression wavering slightly.

Dray raised an eyebrow, “Let the little ones see your cutie mark will you?”

Cove’s lips moved slightly, his eyes blinking as if just waking up. Finally he took in the wide eyed stares of the expectant foals,

“I…yes…sure.”

Pulling his cloak aside revealed the ornate design on Cove’s flank. Charcoal and Duster rushed round, pushing and shoving each other out of the way to get a closer look.

“WOW!” Charcoal squeaked, “Look at that!”

“How cool is that!?” Duster gasped, jumping from one side to another in excitement, “If I had that I’d show EVERYPONY!”

Dray had to admit, it was unusually elaborate. The colourful image of an island, the blue of the bay and even small palm trees and a sailing ship, all sat there as pretty as a picture.

“And…and…you have it on both sides? You do?” Charcoal squeaked excitedly.

Cove’s mouth twitched, “I…yes, of course.”

He pulled himself to his hooves and showed off his other side. The two foals reached out and began gingerly touching the mark, their eyes all but bulging out of their heads,

“I hope we get marks like this!”

“Me too!”

Lemon trotted over, “Come on you two, leave our guests alone, you’ll be far too excited to sleep at this rate.”

“But mum!” Duster complained.

“Never mind that, get into bed, now!”

Dray couldn’t help but smile at the heart warming scene of the mother packing her overly energetic foals off to their hammocks. He also noticed the way the mare glanced back at the Lieutenant as she went, her cheeks visibly flushing. ‘Some things never change’, he thought to himself wryly. Taking off his cloak, he climbed into his hammock, utterly exhausted. He’d wash up in the morning. Right now he just wanted sleep and to see Honeysuckle and the children. Across the room, the Lieutenant had finally stirred himself into action and, after a few fumbled attempts, managed to climb into his hammock, treating Dray to a full view of his ornate cutie mark as he did so.

Dray sniffed, turning over to face the wall. What was wrong with his cutie mark? Nothing wrong with three barrels, it was symbol of strength, endurance and pride. He pulled the blanket over his head, letting out a snort,

“Bloody show off…”

Chapter Fourteen - Shadow of the Empire

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SHADOW OF THE EMPIRE

“How are you feeling?”

Chalk stirred in his bed, his eyes full of sleep. Turning over with a yawn, he found himself coming face to face with a red mare, “Gretel?”

“Who else?” She murmured stroking his mane, “Do you want somepony else?”

“No…I…I thought you’d…”

“I’ve made my mind up, Chalky.” She said quietly, “If you can promise me you’ll never use magic on my ship, you can stay here for as long as you want as part of the crew.”

“Part of the crew…” he echoed, his heart suddenly feeling horrible empty.

Gretel bopped him on the nose, “Stop that! I just need some time, that’s all. And then, well, we’ll see…” she trailed off. Kissing him on the muzzle she climbed out of the bed, “This may be new to you but it is to me as well you know, my fine white stallion. You can wait, can’t you?” She flicked her tail alluringly, “I promise it’ll be worth it…”

She stuck her tongue out playfully making Chalk smile.

“Aye, aye Captain.”

Gretel was a little older than him. How much he had no idea, but it didn’t matter. She made his heart soar every time he saw her. By the goddesses, he would walk all the way to Tartarus and back just to see that smile. He breathed in, her scent filling his nostrils, the heady scent of…

“It’s Lily of the Valley”, she said quietly noticing him smelling the air, “Do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful”, Chalk sighed, “Like you”

“Smoothie”, Gretel chuckled, “Now, I take it you’re feeling better?”

“Lots” Chalk replied honestly, “What happened to me?”

Gretel shook her yellow mane and brought over a cup of water for him,

“Balta happened, and lots of it too! That stuff’s dangerous, Chalky. It’s the reason we nearly lost the ship and our lives.” She grimaced, “Bloody thestrals.”

“I only had a few…” He rubbed his head, pulling himself out of the bed, “I think.”

“One’s bad enough” Gretel said, “and the rest of it’s going overboard the first chance I get!”

Chalk rubbed his temples, “I don’t think I’d argue with you on that point”

Gretel passed him a washbowl and flannel, “You’ve made an impression with the crew at least” she said, “Even if the methods were a bit more crude than I’d have liked.”

Chalk looked up, “That’s…good?”

Gretel laughed, “Oh, it’s good. If they hadn’t taken to you then…”

“I know” Chalk replied honestly, “It’s the whole unicorn thing.”

Gretel nodded.

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask about that.” Chalk said seriously, “What’s the problem with unicorns on board ship anyway? There were unicorns on the ones I saw at the docks back home and there are unicorns down below with the ones we helped to escape from the Legion camp.”

“I suppose I could ask Doc to tell you”, the red mare said picking up her hat and sword, “he’s a lot more eloquent than I am.” She scratched her mane thoughtfully, “Truthfully, Chalky, I don’t really know. Unicorns have always been considered bad luck aboard sky galleons and the use of magic, of any kind, has always been believed to be hazardous. Dad hammered it into me as a foal and I respect his teachings.”

She walked up to him, taking the flannel and gently wiped his muzzle, “So no magic, Mister Chalk Dust, understand?”

“Aye, Cap’n”

“Good lad.” She kissed him on the muzzle and gave him a quick squeeze, “And no more kisses for you until you brush your teeth. That breath could take out a boarding party!”

Chalk laughed quietly. His head still felt like somepony had flayed it, but at least the room had stopped spinning. His throat had a strange minty taste to it too, but it wasn’t a pleasant one by any stretch of the imagination. Reaching the wash bowl, he took up the toothbrush Gretel had found for him and set to work.

“Don’t be long now”, she called back to him as she opened to the cabin door, “We’ll be making port any time now.”

“Port?” Chalk answered around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Gretel rolled her eyes, “Yes, ‘port’. It’s where ships dock?”

“I know that!” Chalk said spitting the toothpaste into the bowl, “I mean which one?”

“You’ll see.” Gretel called as the door closed behind her, “Just get those teeth cleaned, get dressed and come up on deck.”

Chalk rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, “Yes ‘mum’…”

It was a perfect morning, with pure blue skies, an equally blue sea, seagulls wheeling overhead and…hang on…sea? Chalk had a double take…they were landing! He rushed over to the side of the Revenge and stared down wide eyed. Sure enough, the magical vessel was slowly approaching the surface of the ocean. Around him, the crew were rushing about hauling lines and calling to one another while the ship descended. The deck was a hive of activity and, once again, Chalk felt distinctly left out. It wasn’t that much of a surprise really, he’d only been on board a few days after all, but still, he wondered, he’d like to be able to do ‘something’ to help.

Gretel was leaning over the balustrade on the quarterdeck shouting orders down to the officers on deck who in turn passed the instructions to the crew. The whole effort appeared to be one of practiced ease, probably now so second nature to the experienced ponies that orders were more or less superfluous. Chalk tried to speak to the red mare, finding himself waved off as she bellowed down to the helmspony. Deciding it would be better to do something rather than nothing, he made his mind up to go below and see if Doc needed a helping hoof.

Chalk dodged past the rushing ponies and reached the hatchway, quickly nipping down out of the way. It seemed peculiar to him how, when the ship was high above the clouds, there was less activity from the crew than there was now. It was like the Revenge was in her natural element in the sky and all but flying her self. Yet now, bringing her down to earth, or rather water, she needed her crew to help her down. In a strange sense, Chalk felt as if ancient vessel longed to be up there, beyond the cares of the land and sea, far beyond the wars of ponies or thestrals. Up there she was free and she resented being made to leave that place of peace on the whims of its Equestrian crew.

Below decks, the thunder of hooves on the deck above was all but drowned out by the excited chatter of the ponies in the hold. Doc and Faith were checking over the ponies one by one and giving each of them a small package of bread, dried fruit and a water container. The kind gesture seemed like just the sort of thing Gretel would do, Chalk thought to himself. She might come across as a little ‘rough and ready’ at times, but she was at heart a genuinely kind mare.

“What’s going to happen to them, Doc?” Chalk asked with a smile.

The blue stallion hoofed his bag to Faith and lead Chalk away, “They’ll go back to their people of course. There’s contacts for the Celestian army here in port that we know. They’ll be able to arrange transportation home through them.” He gave the white stallion a quizzical look, “Will you be joining them?”

“I…I don’t know” Chalk said honestly, “I want to stay aboard, but Bracken…”

Doc nodded, “I understand, I was in a similar position once myself.”

“Really?”

The ships doctor raised an eyebrow as he rubbed his muzzle,

“Mmhmm. I was a medical pony for the Legion.”

“What?!” Chalks voice dropped, “Bloody hell, Doc! Don’t tell anypony that!”

“Why not?” Doc asked raising an eyebrow, “The past is the past. It’s what we do with our lives today and in the future that matters, Mister Dust.”

“I know, but still…the Legion?”

Doc opened the door to sickbay, holding it open for him, “You know the tent?”

“How could I forget?” Chalk replied bitterly. He knew which one Doc meant. It had possessed a terrible ominous feel to it, a sense of darkness, emptiness and the sapping away of hope.

“You go in and they interrogate you.” Doc explained, taking a note pad out of his drawer, “It’s not cruel, you’re not harmed, you’re simply asked to choose.”

“Choose what?”

The blue stallion took out his pipe, “The sun or the moon. That’s all, there’s not much more to it.”

Chalks blood ran cold, “I think I can guess the rest.”

“You want to, Chalk, believe me, the reality is a lot worse.” Doc fixed him with a hard look, “Those who choose ‘wrongly’ find their future options, shall we say, ‘severely curtailed’.”

It all made sense now. Chalk had had the feeling Gretel knew more about that tent than she let on, and it was probably to stop the ponies panicking before they’d had a chance to formulate an escape. He closed his eyes and tried not to think of which way he would have gone. Was loyalty to Celestia really worth dying for? But…could you so easily join the forces of the moon, the Legion, and fight those who were once your brothers and sisters? Chalk shuddered.

“Why did you…” he licked his lips, the question seemed painfully inquisitive, but he felt he had to know, “you know, leave the Legion?”

Doc’s pink eyes gazed at him a moment, “Why? Because I don’t like the way they do things, Mister Chalk, that’s why.”

“We were always told how evil they are,” Chalk said, “their acts of cruelty are supposedly beyond compare.”

“Do you always believe everything you hear?” Doc asked curiously.

Chalk stammered, “I…No, no of course not.”

Doc put down his notepad and looked Chalk straight in the eyes as he lit his pipe, “Let me tell you something, Mister Chalk Dust the unicorn. It wasn’t that long ago that some earth ponies believed that unicorns were nothing more than a story, a myth, something to enthral or frighten young foals with. You and others like you, with your ‘magical horn’, simply didn’t exist in our world.” He waved a hoof at him, “And yet there you are, sitting before me, horn and all.”

“But…of course we exist!” Chalk said in amazement, “How could you not know that?”

“You’re not grasping what I’m saying, are you?” Doc huffed out a gout of tobacco smoke, “The earth ponies where I’m from had never seen a unicorn. We knew about magic, sure, but it wasn’t as you know and use it, it was more…” He waved a hoof for emphasis, “’artefact based’.” Doc sighed, “Chalky, look, what I’m trying to say is that if a pony had come along and said, ‘Hey everypony, guess what? Unicorns exist!’, they would have been either laughed at or thrown in a nut house. But paradoxically, what ponies usually believe is more often than not dictated by what they’re told by those they trust rather than real first hoof experience. Besides, some things are just easier to accept than others. For example, if somepony told me a fantastical creature I’d never heard of actually existed, it would be hard for me to accept without any actual proof. On the other hoof, if I was told that falling off a cliff would probably kill me, or that putting my tail near the fire would result in a burnt arse, I could accept that a lot more easily. You see, you are more likely to question one than the other, even though both could be true. Are you getting the picture?”

“I think so”, Chalk said scratching his head, “But what’s that got to do with the Legion? We know for a fact they’re the aggressors as they invaded our home. We know they’ve killed ponies and they kill anypony who doesn’t join them, you said so yourself.”

Doc stretched in his chair languorously, “Ah, i’m probably not explaining it that well.” He said suddenly, “Listen, your experience, your knowledge of the Legion is based upon what, fighting them?”

Chalk nodded.

“So,” Doc continued, “I imagine I’d be right in presuming you know nothing of their real motives and intentions, correct?”

Again, Chalk nodded.

“Well, there you go then.”

Chalk shook his head, “So you’re saying that because I have no knowledge of the Legion beyond my experience in fighting them, that I can’t assume they have evil intentions towards Equestria?”

“That’s a very simplistic way of putting it” Doc stated “But it’ll do. In a nutshell, no, you should never ‘assume’ anything.” He pointed his pipe stem at Chalk, “Always work from facts Mister Chalk, facts. There’s too much bloody jumping to conclusions and misinformation flying around already without ponies going about believing all the propaganda bull that’s being spouted by those sending the young to fight their wars.”

“So if the Legions not evil, then why’d you leave?” Chalk asked.

Doc groaned, “I’ve already said haven’t I? Because I didn’t like the way they do things! The tent being one of them, and the way they make anypony who joins them, and is fit enough, take up arms against their fellows. Believe me, that is not something you want to do.”

Chalk raised a hoof, “But you’d be classified as a deserter and hunted down wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” Doc replied calmly, “But trying to catch a few missing ponies is quite low down on their priorities right now, wouldn’t you say?”

Doc passed Chalk a shot glass of some strange pink liquid,

“Now, get that down you. The rest have had theirs.”

Chalk wrinkled his nose up at the strong chemical smell, “What is it? It smells like…”

“Piss. Yes it does, “ Doc stated honestly, “But it’ll stop you getting hide rot, and its epidemic around here.”

“Hide rot?” Chalk asked, lifting up the small glass.

“It starts off with itching fur, then large sore around the size of a bit begin to develop all over your body.” Doc explained, “Your skin will start flaking and is usually characterised by a strong smell of cheese that…”

“-Alright!” Chalk downed the strange smelling concoction, “There! Goddess damn it Doc, you don’t need to be so graphic!”

“Got you to take you medicine though, didn’t it?”

He had to concede defeat there, he had.

“Doc, can I ask a question?” Chalk asked.

“If you like”

“Why are all the ponies on board earth ponies? I know its superstition and goes way back, but I don’t see any pegasi either.”

Doc leaned back in his chair and took a draw on his pipe,

“Behind every superstition, there is some fact, some reason why it came into being. Apparently not even the last Captain, Gretel’s father, knew why and I’ve read all his diaries too.” He tapped his hoof on the desk, “There is one unbreakable rule on board, Mister Chalk. I think you know what that is?”

Chalk nodded, “Don’t use magic.”

“Don’t use magic” Doc echoed, “If you do, the Captain will have you off this ship faster that you can blink.” He leaned forward, “Regardless of how she feels about somepony. Do I need to explain further?”

“No, Doc.”

“Good.” The blue stallion said taking a puff on his pipe, “Right then, go and see your friend. We’ll be going ashore soon for some well deserved rest and recuperation.”

“Any suggestions of where to go in port?” Chalk asked.

“Well, most of the crew will be visiting the Full Moon, the waterfront tavern. After that they’ll no doubt be off to Madam Pickles. That reminds me…” Doc suddenly leaped from his chair and began rummaging in the cupboards.

Chalk scrubbed his mane, “Uh, Madam Pickles?”

Doc paused and looked back at him over his shoulder, “It’s the best whorehouse around, Mister Chalk. However, I would suggest NOT going there. After all, if Gretel really does have…’feelings’ for you, then you may find yourself needing more medical attention than I can give you.”

“What?!” Chalk squeaked, “You mean she’d…” he gulped.

“Oh yes,” Doc smirked, lowering his voice, “it’s not so easy to sew things back on Mister Chalk, and trust me, you need that thing for more than dallying with mares. Yes?”

“Yes!”

“Now then,” Doc stood up, pushing jars of a silver cream like substance into his bag, “I need to distribute this to the crew before somepony catches a dose of something we don’t want on board this ship.”

Chalk’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. Surely the doctor was joking with him, just saying these things to take the piss out of the new guy. Wasn’t he? A shudder ran down his spine as he finally realised just how different the world was he’d suddenly found himself in. Thestrals aside, the crew aboard the King Sombra’s Revenge were as equally alien to him in other ways. Was that why he’d found himself so attracted to Gretel? Because she was different? Perhaps she felt the same way about him too, but…was that really…love? Goddesses, he was so confused!

A hoof clopped him on the shoulder,

“Go see your friend, Chalk. The two of you need to talk things over.”

Chalk nodded. He’d been dreading this. The two of them hadn’t really spoken since their shouting match the other day and poor Bracken had been left chained to the wall of his cell all that time. At least he’d been well fed and watered, the crew even slipping him some ale on occasion. But…He sighed, he’d have to apologise.

The door creaked open, the cell beyond looking surprisingly empty.

“Brack?”

A figure in a cloak suddenly appeared from the foot of the bed, making him yelp in fright.

“Come to see me at last have you?” The figure said, throwing back the cowl of the travel cloak, “Big of you.”

“Bloody hell, Brack, I thought it was the grim reaper for a minute there!” Chalk cleared his throat, “And…well…look, I’m sorry about the other day.”

“You bloody well should be!” Bracken snapped, “You left me here stuck in a cell with nopony to speak to and…and…” He hung his head, “Oh, damn it all Chalky. I don’t want to fall out with you, you’re my friend. I’ll respect whatever decision you want to make.”

“Does that mean you want to stay aboard?” Chalk asked.

Bracken looked away, his voice distant, “I…Chalky, look…”

There was a sudden sensation of slowing and the muted roar of water as the ship rocked from side to side. Bracken’s eyes went wide in alarm, his mouth hanging open. Chalk held up a hoof,

“We’ve landed on the sea, Brack. We’ll be in port soon and then we can go ashore!”

“You mean I’ll be able to get off this bloody tub?” Bracken leaned against the bed in relief, “Thank Celestia for that!”

Chalk frowned. He’d taken quite a liking to the ship and to hear of her like that rankled. He wanted to say something but decided against it. After all, Brack didn’t really understand. How could he?

“Stay here, I’ll go see what’s happening.” Chalk announced suddenly and raced for the steps.

“I’m not going anywhere!” Bracken shouted after him. “Damn it all!” he cursed, “This is becoming a bloody habit.”

Up on deck, Chalk dodged around ropes, crew and a glowering Cyclone before reaching the quarterdeck.

“There it is, Chalky,” Gretel announced, waving towards the shoreline, “a more rotten stinking hive of filth and depravity you’ll never see. The beer’s like gnats piss and the whores diseased and scurvy ridden. Welcome to the carbuncle on the arse of all that is decent in the world; Welcome, to Spurs Anvil.”

Chalk blinked. Gretel’s description didn’t sound so inviting, “Suddenly, I don’t feel so keen on going ashore.” He said looking out at their destination.

“Got your sea legs have you?” Gretel laughed clopping him on the shoulder, “Good, but you still need time ashore from time to time. Gives the crew a chance to let their manes down and spend their loot.”

“Loot?” Chalk asked intrigued.

“Pay.” Gretel corrected quickly, “Oh! And I nearly forgot, here’s yours.”

She tossed him a small pouch of bits. Opening it, he nearly fell over in shock,

“Bloody hell, Gretel! There’s…”

“Don’t wave it around!” The Captain admonished, pushing the pouch back at him, “You earned your cut for helping us out back at Nightmare Moon’s camp, in more ways than one. There’s a little bonus in there from me too, so don’t spend it all in one place. Oh, and…Chalky?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want us to have any…’misunderstandings’” Gretel shifted uncomfortably, “But, please, steer clear of Madam Pickles’ place, okay? Its bad news, and ponies get hurt in there. I don’t want you…”

Chalk shook his head, “- Don’t worry, Doc’s already warned me. I’d like to go ashore with Bracken and have a look around. Besides, I think he…” he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to say it, he didn’t want to think it, but…“I think it may be the last time I see him, Gretel. He wants to go back to the army and…I want to stay here…that is…” he trailed off.

The Captain leaned on the balustrade with a sigh, watching the port growing nearer by the minute, the large sails above her snapping in the breeze. The Revenge skipped through the water just as she always had, the carefully crafted hull leaving barely a ripple in her wake. This was her home, the only one she had ever known. Somehow, now, she felt more aware of that fact than she ever had. Gretel ran her hoof along the old carved woodwork and spoke softly,

“I promised you I’d have an answer for you, and I shall.” She looked up, “I want to see the harbour master while we’re here, so you go and enjoy yourself with the crew. But, Chalky, come to my cabin tonight after four bells.” After spotting his already forming question, she quickly added, “That’s after ten o’clock.” Gretel lifted her hoof, “Have a look in the pouch.”

Opening his pannier, Chalk spotted a smaller package inside. Resisting the urge to use his magic, he used his teeth to pull out the cloth parcel and began carefully teasing out the contents. Something flat, rounded and cold dropped out onto his hoof. It was brass by the looks of it, with a long thin chain.

“My goddesses!” the white stallion exclaimed in surprise, “Gretel, it’s…”

“-It’s a spare, you can have it.” She said absently, “Just, take care of it, okay?”

“Of course!”

Chalk lifted it up to his ear, listening to the steady ticking of the seconds and popped the lid. Inside was a picture of a pony. Who it was, he had no idea, but she was quite the looker. It was painted, and nicely too, the pale pink mare with the plaited blue mane looked out with a pair of bottle green eyes. She was…beautiful. Chalk closed the lid and lifted his head to see Gretel watching him intently.

“Bring your friend up on deck, Chalky.” She said absently, “We’ll be going ashore as soon as we’ve got our cargo shifted.”

By ‘cargo’, no doubt Gretel meant the ponies in the hold. Chalk leaned on the balustrade while the ship’s Captain trotted off to shout at some poor crewpony. He sighed inwardly. It can’t have been much fun being stuck in the hold all this time, no matter how thoughtful their hosts had been. Being confined away from the sun was no good for anypony, and the already ‘interesting’ smell emanating from below decks was becoming an almost sentient being in its own right. It stank!

Taking a deep breath of the salt air, Chalk set off back to the hold where Doc hoofed over the keys to the brig. Much to the relief of the single occupant, in short order the shackles holding Bracken’s legs to the wall fell away to land with a loud metallic clank on the floor, and he was free. The black coated stallion sank to his haunches in relief and rubbed his forelegs. They weren’t too sore thankfully, but they’d still rubbed some of the fur away where they’d been attached. The crew had looked after him, after a fashion, but to lock him up like he was some sort of…of dangerous freak was really too much! He could feel anger and frustration beginning to bubble up inside himself, but right then, all he wanted was to get out of this gloom and see the sky. With a whinny, Bracken shoved past Chalk and bolted for the hatch. By the goddesses, he wanted to see the sun! He had to!

Bursting out onto the deck, Bracken’s senses nearly overloaded with the deluge of sensory information. The sun, the sea, the seagulls crying overhead, the sound of the crew, the creak of the ships timbers…it was all so much, far, far too much! Chalky grabbed him as he teetered,

“Easy there dude, don’t want you going overboard there.”

A pair of grey eyes peered up at him, “It’s all…so bright.”

“Yeah it’s called the sun,” Chalk grinned, “usually hangs about in that blue thing call ‘sky’.”

Bracken pushed him away, “I know that, you…you…Argh!”

“It’s more…Arrgh!” Chalk corrected, “You need to put more emphasis on the ‘r’, as in ‘arrgh, matey’.”

“Oh for goodness sake!” Bracken laughed, “You really are a bloody idiot, you know that?”

Chalk shrugged, “Meh, maybe a little, but come on, who wouldn’t want to look as good as me?” He struck a pose, standing up on his hind legs, one hoof on his sword, the other gripping part of the rigging, “Cap’n Chalk Dust, fearless adventurer, pirate lord of the seven seas!”

“I thought this was a flying ship?” Bracken asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah,” Chalk shrugged, “but it sounds good!”

A voice spoke softly in his ear, “Aye, that it does, ‘Cap’n Chalk Dust’.”

Chalk squeaked in surprise as Gretel loomed over him, “G…Gretel!”

“That’s Captain Gretel to you. Mister Chalk, I’m sorry to say you’ve been demoted.” She chuckled, giving him a sly wink, “So soon after becoming a Captain too, how sad…”

Bracken rolled his eyes. The chemistry between these two was so powerful it was even beginning to affect him. Suddenly, with everything that had happened: the war, being chained up for days, and now this…he felt like he was losing his friend. He could feel a tear stinging his eye and rubbed it away surreptitiously in case the flirtatious couple saw him. Inside, his heart surged, the emptiness and loss he’d felt lurking in the background all this time, those strange dreams of dark skies and a black mare watching him with azure eyes, it was beginning to take him over. And now, seeing these two virtually all over each other, he began to wonder whether he’d taken the wrong turn somewhere in life, making some terrible mistake and yet was still mindlessly oblivious about what it was. He stared out at the sea and let his mind wander. Goddess above, he felt so horribly alone…

Gretel bumped Chalk’s flank with hers and whispered in his ear,

“Remember, four bells.”

Her warm breath tickled the fur around Chalk’s ear and sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn’t wait, not till then! But, he sighed, he had to didn’t he? Gretel was the Captain and had her duties, and besides, he needed to spend time with his friend. He’d neglected him too much recently and he had so much to tell him too! Except…he’d had his memory arsed around with hadn’t he? He nodded to himself, affirming his decision. He’d take Bracken out, they’d have a drink (not Balta, naturally) and have a laugh like old times. He stomped a hoof,

“Now then, young Bracken me lad” he chirped, “ye be prepared fer some time ashore?”

Gretel burst out laughing, and gave the two of them a wave as she disappeared down the steps to the main deck. Bracken rolled his eyes,

“Aye, aye, Cap’n Dust.”

******************************

The stench of fish was overpowering, mixing with the smell of salt air and the goddesses knew what else. It was more than enough to stretch the endurance of even the strongest of stomachs. Like some living sea monster, a slick film of odorous sewage floated atop the water nearest the dock wall, liberally sprinkled with years of detritus carelessly cast in by the inhabitants of the port. This was Spurs Anvil, the town on the coast. Once a symbol of prosperity where ponies, griffins, minotaurs and numerous other races would gather to trade and further relations with other nations, it had begun a long slow decline into the seething morass of filth it had now become.

Symbols of a more affluent past lay everywhere, most of it covered in a layer of grime that was reminiscent of the sewage floating in the dock. Many years ago, the port had been created as an outpost of the Crystal Empire. With Sombra banished and the empire lost, the fortunes of the port too began to drain away. What was left eventually became little more than a shadow of its former greatness; a place where the strong preyed on the weak and less fortunate. It was here, in this place, that Gretel and several of her crew walked. Passing what must have once been magnificent statues of mythological and historical figures now lying broken and defaced by drunken vandalism, down the streets so choked with the build up of hundreds of years of excrement, the once immaculately maintained cobbles were now all but invisible under the compacted coating of dirt.

The weather was warm, but did little more than aggravate the already overpowering smell of the port. At least it kept the filth dry so it wouldn’t stick so readily to hooves. Around them, the shouts, curses and blood curdling screams never ended; the sound a fitting accompaniment for what, Gretel imagined, could be readily mistaken for purgatory, if not one of the circles of hell itself. And if indeed this was hell, she reasoned, then the devil presiding over this pit of damnation and all its machinations was the very griffin she was intending to speak to. She looked up at the large building before her. It was several stories high with crumbling red brick and white marble archways, clearly once an imposing civic building in its day. In a certain light, at a certain angle, it was possible to see just what a magnificent construction it had once been. Now, years of rot and neglect could no longer be hidden by superficial painting and the years of thoughtless apathy, together with nature itself, were taking their toll.

Gretel paused, checking her sword was free in its scabbard before turning to her crew ponies,

“Remember, keep your mouths shut and your eyes and ears open in there. Ready?”

“Aye Cap’n” The two echoed.

“Right then”, she half muttered under her breath and stepped forward.

“Stop right where you are.” A large stallion stepped out from behind a pillar, lowering his wickedly hooked halberd. Beside him an equally large griffin strode out carrying a spear. The strange eagle and lion hybrid narrowed it eyes at Gretel menacingly. The Captain yawned,

“Tell your owner that the Captain of the King Sombra’s Revenge is here.”

“Do you have an appointment?” The griffin sneered. It was no mean feat with a beak.

Gretel was unimpressed, “Oh, he’ll see me. I have something that will make him a lot of money,” she smiled, “and I know how much you griffins love cash.”

The creature made a rumbling noise in its throat and nodded to the stallion, “I’ll tell the boss, you keep an eye on these three.”

Gretel watched the griffin disappear into the darkness of the buildings interior. The pony left to guard them was a big fellow alright, his muscles and overall build no doubt the reason why he got the job. Few would tackle him head on in a fight.

“Got you well trained, hasn’t he?” Gretel obseverved sarcastically.

The pony’s brows pulled down, “Huh?”

“I said I think it might rain”

Gretel smiled helpfully, but the huge chestnut stallion appeared to be so dense you could have used him for building material. Finally, he moved his lips,

“You stay there!”

“Yes, yes, big boy, you’ve already said that once.” She waved a hoof at the ground, looking him in the face intently, “We. Are. Staying. Here. Okay?”

The burly guard suddenly looked almost painfully happy, “Yeah!”

“I bet he’s easy to please”, Gretel muttered to herself.

Mind you, she thought eyeing the fellow up, judging by the size of him he’d be quite a hoofful for most mares when you came to think about it…

A few minutes later, the griffin reappeared, “Boss will see you now, ‘Captain’” it said snidely, “Leave your weapons with me.”

“What? Go buck yourself, beaky!” Gretel snapped, “I’m not giving up my sword for anypony, or griffin.”

“Please yourself.” The creature replied.

“Come on boys,” Gretel announced loudly, tossing her mane, “We’ll take our business elsewhere”

A voice called out, “Miss Gretel?”

The Captain halted and smiled to herself. The old coot was just as cagey as he’d ever been. Gretel slowly turned back to face the arched entrance to the ports old administration building and the equally ancient looking griffin leaning on an old vine staff,

“Please, won’t you come up?” it asked politely.

Inside the building the all pervading odour of damp was everywhere. Black mould patches on the walls had been painted over at some time in the past, only to re-emerge and bring reinforcements with them. Paintings, those still in situ, were stained, torn or just suffering the same general level of neglect that seemed to embody the spirit of the whole of the town.

The old griffin by comparison, was quite spry despite his stick and apparent age. Moving at a fair pace, they turned one corner then the next, following corridor after corridor, until finally they reached a large set of oak doors that were already standing open. Gretel smiled to herself inwardly; this was all a show, a display to demonstrate to her that despite the notoriously high level of crime in Spurs Anvil, nopony would dare steal from him, the equally notorious Hay Wain. Odd name for a griffin, she’d often thought to herself. Maybe his parents were vegetarian.

“You appear in good spirits, Captain Gretel.” The griffin observed politely.

The red mare looked up from her ponderings and smiled, “I am, Mister Wain. It is always a pleasure to see you in such good health.”

The ancient creature blinked it large golden avian eyes and squawked out a laugh,

“So formal, Captain!” he waved to a series of old chairs for his trio of visitors while he walked round to the other side of the desk, pulling his lion hind quarters into his own heavily carved, seat. He was a strange character, and notoriously difficult to deal with, but at least he was a good payer if nothing else. Still, he had that reputation which stretched way back to his days as nothing more than a street thug, and as much as his appearance suggested her were a kindly old coot, the calculating shrewdness in his eyes still bore a hint of the mindless cruelty he had been know to inflict so readily on his enemies.

“I’d heard the King Sombra’s Revenge was in port”, he said, leaning his elbows on the leather lined desk before him, “So, what can I do for such a handsome vessel’s fearless Captain?”

Fearless? Gretel kept the question from her lips, “We need supplies and minor repair work while we’re in port, Mister Wain. I expect we should be here no more than four days.”

“But that’s not why you’re here though, is it?” Wain said quietly, “You can see the harbour master for all of that, so…why are you here, Captain?”

Gretel leaned on her foreleg, “I want to buy more of the ‘special’ barrels. As many as I can cram aboard.”

The old griffin clacked his beak, “Straight to the point, eh? Good.” He picked up a small pair of glasses and a sheath of parchment, “Tell me, Captain, what happened to the last delivery? I understand things didn’t quite work out as planned?”

“Oh, the delivery was made Mister Wain,” Gretel smiled, “I can assure you of that.”

“And you received payment as promised, I trust?” he asked.

Gretel nodded, “Indeed, we were paid in full.”

Hay Wain motioned to one of Gretel’s ponies who trotted over to close the doors to the already stiflingly hot room. The griffin took a breath and closed his eyes, his voice lowering,

“Captain, I’m sure you are aware that both sides in this conflict want these ‘goods’ and will pay a very good price for them.”

Gretel shrugged, “I’m aware of that, and you will also be aware that I have no interest whatsoever in taking sides. I’m a free trader Wain, and right now my ship has an empty hold that needs filling.” Gretel sat back, “So, can you help us?”

“Perhaps” The griffin said tapping his quill against his beak, “But I don’t carry much here, you understand, certainly not anywhere near enough to fill your ships hold.”

Gretel nodded. This was what she had been expecting, “I know”, she replied, “That’s why I thought we could arrange something a little more, ‘interesting’.”

“Hmmm…” Wain squinted at her, “I’m listening.”

“I propose we collect the barrels directly from the source.” She explained, “They are bound to have a goodly supply there and…”

“-No” the griffin replied bluntly, “Out of the question. My supplier demands anonymity above all else and would never allow direct contact with a trader.” He gave her a wry smile, “No matter who they are.”

“Everypony has their price, Wain.” Gretel clopped a forehoof on the arm of the chair, “Two hundred barrels.”

“Two HUNDRED!” Wain squawked, his eyes going wide with surprise, “Good gods, do you know how much that would cost?”

“I can pay.”

“I doubt it!” he barked, wiping his forehead with a feathered foreleg, “I doubt there’s enough gold in all of Equestria to pay for that many!”

Gretel smiled knowingly. She’d let the tension build a moment. Leisurely, she clopped her hooves and one of her crew pony’s passed her a parchment tube. Lifting the tube up to the light, she peered at it, her voice tantalisingly low,

“You know, Wain, you’re right. I probably don’t have that much money, however, I suspect somepony, or perhaps I should say, some griffin, does.”

“I don’t work like that, Captain” Wain said levelly, “If you want goods, you pay for them on collection or else…”

Gretel raised her hoof, stopping the griffin in his tracks. She had his attention alright, the greedy thing was eyeing the scroll hungrily.

“I understand your rules, Wain.” She gave a lilting laugh, “how long have we known each other now?”

“Long enough” He replied, “I knew your father.”

Gretel nodded, knowingly, “That’s right, and I know that you two had a special interest in a little project way back when.”

“What are you…?”

“What if I said”, Gretel said absently tapping the rolled parchment, “I’d found what you’d been seeking?”

Wain’s tail flicked anxiously, his eyes widening, “Wh…my gods, you mean…?”

The parchment flew through the air and landed on his desk. The red mare smiled, waving a hoof for him to continue. His claws shaking with anticipation, the old griffin undid the binding and stared down at the inscriptions,

“It…it is! But…” he looked up at her, “This is only part of it, where is the…” he paused, “Ah…” Wain took a breath, “One hundred barrels.”

“Two” Gretel replied, “With that, you can make as many as you want Wain, and I’m sure one side or the other would be more than happy to pay handsomely for…”

“-Two hundred barrels” Wain slammed his clawed fist on the table, “For the complete scroll. It has to be complete Captain, not pieces, but the whole thing.”

“I have the rest, Mister Wain, never fear. I just wanted to give you some ‘evidence’, to prove my sincerity. After all, she winked cheekily, the streets around here aren’t safe for a lady these days.”

Wain shook his head, “You remind me of your father, Gretel. You have his nose for business.”

Gretel grinned, “Oh, I don’t know.” She chuckled, “Mines a lot cuter.”

The griffin’s expression didn’t waver, “I’ll send instructions by personal courier. He can be trusted.”

“Very well.” Gretel smiled, “I look forward to completing our business venture, Mister Wain.”

“Indeed” The old griffin returned the smile, “Meanwhile, please, enjoy all that Spurs Anvil has to offer.”

“Thank you, Mister Wain, may I bid you good day.”

Wain bowed formally, “A pleasure Captain.” He held out a claw, indicating a thin piebald mare standing patiently beside the now open door.

Gretel’s eye twitched. By the looks on her crew’s faces, none of them had heard the door open, let alone noticed the mare stood there. Whether Wain saw their discomfort or not, he never let on. Gretel had met the griffin several times before, but had always tried to avoid dealing with him directly if at all possible. Dad had warned her about him and his cunning. She had to admit though, that despite his reputation he’d done a lot to try and save the port from dying completely and, it also had to be said, like some horrific magical experiment, the once magnificent jewel of the Crystal Empire had transformed into a half alive, half dead shambling corpse of a place. She turned to go, giving Wain a pleasant smile as she did so. He said nothing, merely nodding his head. The sly old goat had a face perfect for a poker game.

Outside, the day was still warm, if now feeling a little muggy on the hide. Gretel didn’t look round, but she could feel the eyes of the thin mare following her. She spoke quietly,

“Stock?”

“Cap’n…”

Gretel knew all too well that the old griffin would be having them watched, it was his port after all. However, it didn’t stop the hair standing up on her back,

“Triple the deck watch when we get back. Let the crew have their fun ashore, but keep alert for any trouble.”

Stock raised an eyebrow, “You don’t trust him?”

“No.” She replied tossing her mane, “But then, neither did my father.”

The dark brown stallion wouldn’t question her methods, in fact he rarely even offered his opinion despite encouragement. But, if there was one thing Gretel liked about the ships master, it was that he was reliable and, most importantly, he was damned good at his job.

The three carried on in silence until they reached the dockside. Cyclone was waiting for them,

“Cap’n the cargo’s been unloaded as you ordered.”

“Any trouble?” Gretel asked.

Cyclone shook her head, “No, Cap’n. The local agent is arranging for them to be returned home.”

Gretel nodded, “Good work, Bosun. You’ll be off to enjoy some shore leave later?”

“Aye, Cap’n”

The Captain of the King Sombra’s Revenge knew all her crew, but the Bosun was another matter. Cyclone was quite the enigma, in many ways. There wasn’t much she didn’t know about what went on board her ship and she didn’t miss the furtive glance she gave Stock as he walked past her. It was only the briefest of looks, but it was still there. Inwardly, she sighed. Some day…

Back on board, Gretel trotted down to the lower deck to inspect the hold. Now that the ponies had all been offloaded the place looked huge, her breathing sounding surprisingly loud in the large empty space. She smiled to herself, imagining two hundred barrels of the most lethal substance known to ponykind just sitting there, waiting to be delivered. But best of all, was the amount of money she would be paid for it. The Celestians were on the back hoof now, and would probably pay through the nose for such a cargo. Nightmare Moon’s army on the other hoof, were keen for a decisive victory and they too would pay handsomely for this amount. That is, if they didn’t simply kill them for what they’d done first and simply take the cargo.

Gretel shook her mane angrily. Everything had been going so well too! And then that bloody arse of a First Mate hit the balta and then the bloody thestrals found out they were being ripped off. It wasn’t like ‘all’ the barrels were duds, only some of them had been, and once they’d been launched at the enemy the effect would have been lost in the rush anyway. Any surplus barrels would have fetched a nice bonus from the other side who would be all too keen to reply to their foes in kind. And then, Chalky happened, and those bloody thestrals. What the hell had she been thinking?! She could have simply stolen the money from them without dropping the cargo on the damned creatures. And yet, she scratched her head, it had balanced things out in a strange way, and she liked balance. ‘Balance in all things’ dad had always said, and those words had stayed with her all her life. Maybe, just maybe, Chalk was her balance. His intelligence, his comical behaviour, those big green eyes…

“Damn it!” She hissed as a flood of warmth ran through her making her ears tingle. How the hell did he do that to her? Magic? She looked up at the strips of thin metal inlaid into the walls. All sky galleons had these fitted now, ever since that incident on the Ravens Eye. She’d heard Salty’s tale many, many times. Good goddesses, they all had! Each telling was a little more embellished than the last, and yet, every time she heard it, it sent a cold shiver down her spine. Dad and all the other sky galleon Captains had installed magical protection in their holds to prevent any more tragedies. The metal protected the vessel from a cargo’s magical energy leakage, but from two hundred barrels? No…nothing would contain that if it went off. It was a dangerous cargo, insanely dangerous if she were honest with herself, but the rewards would be enough to buy a whole fleet of sky galleons; if such a thing even existed anymore.

The red mare leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. One day, when she’d made enough money and had had enough of adventuring, perhaps she’d settle down, leaving the ship to her children. Two foals would be nice, earth ponies preferably, but it didn’t matter that much really did it? It wasn’t like it was that difficult to comprehend. Being a mother, nursing her foals; Gretel’s fur tingled and her cheeks flushed. Just the thought of it, of leaving her ship and her crew, could she do it? She’d always thought she’d die on the deck like her father had, but to have a normal life…

Gretel leaned her head against the wall and groaned. Why was everything so bloody difficult!?

“I need a drink” she mumbled and headed off back to her cabin.

Chapter Fifteen - Home and Hearth

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HOME AND HEARTH

Water gurgled past the hull, mere inches from where Dray lay in his hammock. He was tired, but relieved; relieved because he was on his way home, but also that he felt that in some way, the family of the riverboat had been saved the inevitable horrors of life under the auspices of Lord Ochre. He could be selfish and say that it was somepony elses problem now, after all, he’d more than done his duty in his time in the army. He’d spent years on the border too, returning home to raise a family and then he’d rushed off once more to fight another war, fighting for his life against an enemy he’d never so much as even spoken to. Dray stared at the planking of the hull and ran his hoof down it. It was old, reliable, and dependable. It did a job and one day, when it was worn out, it would be scrapped and a new one built to replace it. He sighed; it was like a metaphor for his own life.

It was early morning. Lemon was already up and busily engaged in dragging her sleepy foals out of bed, while he snuck in to take advantage of the abundance of hot water, courtesy of the fire imp. It was indeed a useful little creature, not that he ever actually saw it, but hot water…whenever you wanted it! Incredible. He poured some out of the jug into the washbowl and rubbed the steaming flannel over his face. Goddesses have mercy, that felt so good! The curtain behind him provided a level of modesty and he set to, using the water with abandon, revelling in its reenergising warmth.

Dray cleaned himself top to bottom, dumping the used water into the bilge. It was surprising just how black the water was. How long had it been since he’d had a proper wash, let alone a bath? Days, weeks? It was frightening to realise it was so long ago, he simply couldn’t remember. The war with Nightmare Moon had left him, and many of the ponies in the army, in the uncomfortable position of having to wear their armour for days on end. Even then, the chances to wash properly were few and far between. Many had gone lame, the doctors spending an inordinate amount of time treating maladies that many of them had never had in their lives. Some, those from the larger towns, had been hit the hardest. Weakened by softer living standards, it had been too much for them and their bodies had simply…given up. He’d signed too many letters telling parents of the loss of their beloved son, daughter, mother, father, uncle, grandfather…the list went on.

Dray gave his mane a shake and began to towel off, taking the opportunity to run the long bristled brush through his hair. Thank Celestia it was wet! His mother had always berated him for not looking after his mane and tail properly, and if she could see him now, his life wouldn’t be worth living! Fortunately the water helped ease the brush through the tangles, but it didn’t stop it completely from snagging and pulling painfully on the more stubborn knots. As an earth pony, brushing his tail wasn’t particularly easy either and grooming could be a royal pain in the arse. This is where the army ‘buddy’ system came in. Many didn’t take to it at first: the thought of grooming another pony you didn’t know, and sometimes of the same gender, didn’t sit well with many of them. That was where the drill sergeants came in. He grinned to himself remembering some of the looks on the faces of the pampered ponies after being screamed at for asking where the staff were when they ‘needed’ their beds making. Ah, latrine cleaning duties…so many hours of fun for the uninitiated!

“Good morning, Lieutenant, Ma’am”

Cove was already up and slowly eating a bowl of oatmeal. He looked drawn, the dark circles under his eyes an indication of how little sleep the fellow must have had last night. Dray noticed the children were the ones having the most success of dragging the pitiable stallion from his doldrums, their constant pestering finally breaking down the walls he’d thrown up around himself. In some peculiar fashion, Cove had become the unwitting celebrity on the riverboat, both for the foals and, unfortunately, for Lemon. The yellow mare had taken quite a shine to him. Anyway, Dray reasoned, they’d be off the barge in the next couple of days or so and just as well. He didn’t want to be the cause, albeit indirectly, of causing a domestic incident. Up on deck, the morning sun was warming the riverboats timbers along with the pony on the tiller. Goddesses, didn’t Gal ever sleep? Dray reasoned he must have, but then he’d been completely out of it himself for most of the night and had still woken up feeling like a few more hours would have just hit the spot. Anyway, he was up now whether he liked it or not, and he waved a hoof at his new friend in greeting,

“Morning Gal, you’re up and about bright and early.”

The bronze stallion chuckled, “We always are. Lemon and I take shifts and travel through the night.” He shrugged, “I suppose we’ve been working the river that long, that both of us know these waters like the back our hooves. It sure helps give us the edge on the competition.”

“Is there much?” Dray asked. He hadn’t seen many other boats at the dock, and certainly none since last night.

Gal shook his head, “Not these days. Anypony who had any sense got the hell out the capital when they got wind of what happened at River Valley.”

Dray shook his head in wonderment.

“What is it?” Gal asked at his guest’s expression.

“I’m just trying to work out how you know.” Dray raised a hoof apologetically, “I don’t mean to sound disrespectful, Gal, but I can’t understand how you know about it already. I suspect you’re not the only one either.”

Gal shrugged, “It’s no secret” he said nonchalantly, “Ochre uses pegasi to relay messages to him. Remember me telling you about Lemon’s gossiping friends?” Dray nodded. “Seems they’ll tell you anything for a cinnamon swirl.”

“The last word in secrecy eh?” The Colonel snorted, “I’d guessed Ochre had using pegasi. I saw one shadowing us on the way to the castle.” He deliberately didn’t mention the one he’d seen only the previous night.

“They should leave you alone now though, right?” Gal said hopefully.

“I don’t see why not,” Dray replied, “After all, he’s got his own way. I’m ‘off the team’ so to speak and he’s got far more important things to do than to harass a poor farmer.”

The bronze stallion opened the lid on a tube and blew, shouting down into it for Duster to ‘feed’ the boiler. Dropping the lid back down, he stretched his back and glanced over at Dray,

“I hope you’re right Dray,” he said with a serious tone, “by the goddesses, I hope you are, for your sake.”

The comment took the Colonel off guard. For a moment, a feeling of cold dread ran through him gripping his heart. What was this? Was he unnerved by Gal’s words? He’d meant them sincerely, certainly, but…there was something else, something behind the words that the boat’s Captain hadn’t intended. Dray walked to the side of the boat and stared out at the trees as they passed by. A kingfisher sitting of its perch watched the peculiar little vessel chugging past. For all its speed, the riverboat wasn’t going to get to its destination for at least another day and then there was at least a full day’s travel from there, at a gallop. But…he wasn’t in a rush, why would he be? Honey was safe, so where the foals. Dray shook his head angrily; it was just his bloody imagination, and being stuck on this damned barge! Damn it all, why wouldn’t it go any faster?!

A hoof on his shoulder made him spin round,

“Dray…I’m sorry my friend, I didn’t mean to…”

The Colonel shook his head, giving the bronze pony what he hoped looked like a sincere smile, “No, there’s nothing to be sorry for, Gal. I’m just anxious to see my family again, that’s all.”

“I understand,” Gal nodded, “Look, I’ll do what I can to get a little extra out the old girl and see if we can’t get there sooner, okay?”

Dray clopped him on the shoulder, “Thank you my friend.”

The Colonel walked to the bow of the riverboat and sank to his haunches. Was he becoming soft in his old age? He looked down at his forelegs. They were scarred, the dark grey coat covering most of them the same as it always had, but if he looked closer, he could see how they all but criss-crossed his hide making him look like a foals noughts and crosses game. Most of these looked old, and there were so many it was only the odd one that still brought back memories of fights, brawls and the goddesses knew how many battles. The border had been the worst of it. Maybe in some way, his father’s untimely death had been a blessing. Dray had been allowed to leave the army, to go home and tend the farm in his father’s stead. And it was there, at the local village chandlers, that he’d met the girl he’d seen working in there since she was a foal. He’d seen her grow, get married, and then tragically lose her husband to the flux during a particularly hot summer. She was still mourning him when Dray walked past the shop one day and saw her for what felt like the first time.

Dray loved candles. The way the flames flickered and danced had always entranced him ever since he’d been a foal. There was something delightfully simple, something ‘earthy’ about them. He’d never been able to put his hoof on it, and probably, many would think he had completely lost his mind, but to hell with them. If he hadn’t called into the shop, he would never have found just how much the two of them had in common. Perhaps if he’d met her earlier he wouldn’t have joined the army, she wouldn’t have married somepony else and they would have had many more years together. Instead, he’d left her, the mare he loved, with two foals while he went off to war. Oh, she knew why, they all knew why: it was to defend Equestria and their home. But why him? Of all ponies, why did it have to be him? Honeysuckle had cried for days, unable to find the words to express how she felt. And then he’d left, left to fight an unknown enemy with an army that consisted of little more than excited children dressed in ceremonial armour. It was all agonisingly predictable; the Legion had cut right through their pitiful ranks like a hot knife through butter.

A brass bucket, surprisingly well polished like most of the metalwork on board, caught Dray’s attention, distracting him from his melancholy thoughts. He lifted the shining thing up and examined his reflection. Even on his muzzle, the scars were frighteningly visible. They’d fade with time of course, but…how would she react? How Honeysuckle had found him attractive in the first place was bordering on miraculous already, but now? Dray put the bucket back down and gave himself a shake. There was no point torturing himself with ifs, buts and maybe’s. He would be home soon enough, and of course, at some point he would have to find some way of ‘dealing’ with the depressed stallion languishing below decks. Still, Dray reasoned as he headed back to the hatchway, with any luck the foals would have either talked the Lieutenant to death by then or pulled him back to the land of the living by little more than the sheer enthusiastic determination of a foal’s spirit. He grinned to himself; by the goddesses, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor bugger!

Life aboard the riverboat plodded along much the same for the rest of the day. Lemon swapped over with Galliard after she’d finished tending to the foals, allowing him a well deserved rest. Charcoal and Duster meanwhile were occupied with cleaning, polishing, and, when time allowed, pestering the life out of poor Lieutenant Cove. All too soon night fell, then morning came around once again; little ever changed on the river.

Dray found himself leaning against the bow, letting his imagination run free. The scenery had altered little on their journey. There were few houses and even fewer ponies. Occasionally they’d see a pegasus flying in the distance, or maybe a griffin? It was hard to tell. He began to wish he’d brought his telescope; at least it would have been something to do! Dray reasoned that it was simply the change of pace, a different perspective on life that Gal and his family had lived with for so long, it was as natural to them as the leaves on the trees. He’d have to get used to a different pace himself now, back to the days of early mornings, late nights, sowing, ploughing, reaping. But, he was an earth pony, and farming was in his blood. Goddesses knew he’d spilled enough of his own on Equestria’s rich soil. He could smell it now, the rich dark earth, the feel of it beneath his hooves; it was just so full of life, he could imagine his father’s excitement when he discovered it and built their farm. Different days they may have been, but farming was farming, and he’d soon get back into the swing of it.

He stretched, giving himself a hard shake. How he’d love to just go and have a roll in all that lush grass beyond the bank, to stretch his legs and have a damned good gallop. This wasn’t the life for him, stuck on the deck of this boat, he wanted his home, the fields, a warm fire next to an equally warm mare. Dray took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air and the hint of woodsmoke. He paused…woodsmoke?

“Dray!”

The Colonel looked over his shoulder at Galliard who was waving to him urgently. As he trotted back, he noticed the bronze pony pushing the long lever forward on the boiler control and felt the vessel begin to slow.

“Whats up?” he asked, looking around for any signs of trouble.

Gal chuckled, “Nothings up, Dray. We’re here.”

“Here?” He looked around perplexed, “But…”

“It’s just around the next bend” Gal laughed, rolling his eyes, “Better get your gear Colonel, and your friend too.”

Drays heart leaped in his chest. This was it, he was back home! Well, nearly, but near enough! All decorum forgotten, he dashed down the steps to the hold and began packing his gear excitedly. Lieutenant Cove, sitting with his now regular audience of Charcoal and Duster, looked up at him quizzically.

“Get your gear, Lieutenant.” Dray called over as he began hastily packing the few items he’d managed to gather, “We’re nearly at Heifer’s Leap.”

Cove furrowed his brow, a look of confusion on his face,

“Heifer’s Leap?”

“Near as we can get to my home Lieutenant” Dray called over his shoulder, “Shake a tail soldier, and that is an order.”

The young officer complied. He still seemed to be quite ‘distant’ at times, but thankfully was a whole lot better now than he had been. Surprisingly the children, as horrendously loud and irritating as foals could be at times, had been just to the ticket to kick him, metaphorically at any rate, up the arse. Dray smiled to himself. Maybe a sound kick in the nuts would have done the miserable sod the power of good too. He finished the last of his packing and noticed the sad look from Lemon Flower who was busy washing up the children’s breakfast dishes. Thank the goddesses that Cove hadn’t responded to the mare’s flirtatious advances as it would have more than likely ended up with them swimming the rest of the way. As it was, the white stallion had occupied himself with strapping his armour to his panniers and saddle packs so he could travel quickly. It was quite an accomplishment too, considering he didn’t have any magic to help him. Interestingly, Dray noted that all of the ponies Ochre had sent to collect him were earth ponies. Didn’t he have any unicorns in his private army? He couldn’t believe it was some form of prejudice, as even Lord Ochre wasn’t that paranoid…or was he? Dray took a swig of water from the pitcher by the sink and topped up his water flasks. Minutes later he was up on deck, just in time to spot the rickety looking jetty of Heifer’s Leap hove into view. His eyes immediately went wide in surprise, what the hell was going on here?

The dock was absolutely crowded with ponies: a seething, heaving mass of equines all pushing their way towards the already heavily overloaded boats to the point where their crews were being forced to shove the frightened creatures back. One or two had already fallen in the water, but rather than swim back to shore, they were attempting to scramble up the sides of the already overloaded boats. The chaotic scene sent shivers down Dray’s spine, his previously buoyant mood souring quickly.

“Ahoy, Captain Galliard!”

An appaloosa mare waved to them from another boat as they approached the dock. Gal waved back, slowing his vessel’s speed and bringing them nearer, but not so close so as to risk the ponies on the dock swamping them. As it was, the desperate looking Equestrians were eyeing the relatively empty deck of the riverboat with a longing born of desperation.

“Ahoy Currants! What’s going on here?” Gal called across.

“Legion’s coming this way,” the spotted mare shouted back, “a lot of ‘em apparently.”

“I thought the Legion had already come through here?” Dray shouted to the other boat’s captain.

The mare nodded, “Aye, they have, only now they’re sending reinforcements, and a lot of ‘em to, or so the rumours say. Folk are scared and wanting to get out of the way before they get here.”

“Where you heading?” Gal called, leaning on the bow, “I wouldn’t head for the castle if I were you.”

Currants shook her head, “Nope, heading east. From there we may strike out for the uncharted territories.”

Gal shrugged, turning to Dray, “Do the Legion pose that much of a threat to simple folk minding their own business, Dray?”

The Colonel rubbed his chin in thought. Did they? In all the time he’d fought them, the Legion had shown little to no interest in those that didn’t threaten them directly. The military precision of Nightmare Moon’s army had been rapid, focussed, and a lot of civilians had barely even noticed they were at war until a group of armed thestral warriors marched past their front doors carrying unfamiliar banners. Dray shook his head,

“No, I don’t believe they do.” He said honestly.

The Captain gave Dray a brief nod and called his wife up on deck. Soon, the two of them began a brief discussion which was rapidly becoming heated. The Colonel quickly decided a tactical withdrawal was in order, and discreetly kept out of the way while he watched one of the now packed riverboats slowly pulling away from the jetty. The crowd had thinned out somewhat, but it was all too clear that there were still far more ponies than space on the existing boats would allow. Several of the refugees had begun shouting over to Galliard’s boat and his empty deck was fast becoming an enticing prospect for the remaining ponies; the very same deck that had suddenly and rather disturbingly, become very quiet. Dray looked round to see Lemon sat on her haunches, her forelegs crossed in a manner that suggested her husband was likely to feel the full fury of her wrath at some point in the very near future. Rolling his eyes, the bronze stallion trotted back to the tiller,

“Dray, I know you want to go home as soon as you can, but I’d appreciate it if you could help us out a little before you do.”

The Colonel adjusted his gear, “Of course, Gal. It’s the least I could do for you, and there’s also the matter of payment.” He began fishing about in his pouch, but Gal reached out a hoof, stopping him,

“No.” He said shaking his head slowly, “Please, it wouldn’t feel right to me. Look, just help me with these buggers and we’ll call it quits, okay?”

Dray didn’t know what to say. He felt a pang of guilt about not paying, but Gal was insistent. He had the money he’d had saved with the army bursar at the castle and it would be more than enough, but…

“If you’re sure, Gal.” he said with a sad smile, “But I won’t forget this. If I can ever repay you or your family, look me up at our farm on the edge of Hockspeth.”

The bronze stallion gave him a wink, “I may just do that.” He motioned to the stowed gangplank, “I’ll take us a little nearer. When we’re ready, lower the plank, but for the goddesses’ sake, don’t let them all rush on board at once.”

Dray nodded.

With a surge of power, the riverboat began to draw nearer to the jetty, a stream of bubbles and steam rising up from the stern until, with a thump, Dray dropped the gangplank into place.

“One at a time!” The Colonel called out in his most authoritative voice, “No pushing or you’ll be going over the side. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

The ponies paused, dozens of pairs of eyes watching him warily, their earlier enthusiasm to come aboard suddenly cooled in the stern gaze from the scarred army veteran. Walking up alongside him carrying his spear, the tall white form of Lieutenant Cove and his distant stare didn’t exactly add much to entice the nervous ponies aboard.

“You can stay here if you want.” Gal shouted, “We’re not staying any longer than we need to, so shift your flanks if you want or stay here, it’s your choice.”

They didn’t need any more encouragement. The first of them gingerly stepped onto the gangplank and with help from Lemon and the foals, was quickly found a place on the deck as the now strangely muted equines filed aboard. Soon, the last of the refugees was settled and the dock became almost eerily quiet. Dray adjusted his gear and turned to the Captain,

“That’s the last of them, Gal. We’ll be heading off now.”

“Thanks Dray,” The Captain smiled, shaking the Colonel’s hoof, “You certainly have a way with ponies, I’ll give you that!”

Lemon walked up to the pair, pushing past the milling ponies and produced a muslin bag of food,

“Here, Duster told me how much you liked these so I’ve made some extra for your journey, Colonel” She nudged Cove shyly, “And some for you too…Lieutenant.”

The pastel yellow mare blushed furiously as she pressed another bag into Cove’s hooves and quickly vanished back into the mass of newcomers, issuing orders and positioning them like so much freight. Dray shook his head in wonder. The next leg of his journey, or rather, the last one, was just about to start and it was with some sadness that he had to bid his new friends farewell. Cove was already halfway across the gangplank as he said his goodbyes to Gal and his family. A few minutes later, in a fountain of churning water, bubbles and steam, the heavily laden riverboat gradually began to pull away from the jetty and head off on its long journey upriver. Charcoal and Duster waved and shouted enthusiastically from the stern, while Galliard bobbed his head and treated the two soldiers to his customary broad grin.

“Come on, Lieutenant”, Dray said happily, giving one final wave as the riverboat gradually disappeared from view, “It’s time to go home.” Flexing his shoulders, Dray headed off up the dusty path towards Hockspeth, the ever quiet Lieutenant following in his wake.

The sun was still high in the sky, its warmth giving light gradually giving way to an ever darkening bank of cloud. Rain came quickly in these parts, drawn to a degree by the nearby mountains, and could easily soak the unwary traveller. Fortunately, Dray had managed to scrounge up some supplies from the castle stores before his rather hasty departure. Clearly word about him hadn’t spread quite as quickly as he’d thought, either that or the stores pony was more sympathetic than he’d let on. Lieutenant Cove’s presence had similarly been useful to allowing them access to the bursar’s office where he’d drawn out all of his back pay and savings - much to the distress of the treasurer. Bits, it appeared, were for saving, not for hoofing out to ponies. ‘Miserable sod’, Dray thought to himself, he was probably the type who sat there all night counting towers of coins by candlelight.

Not far ahead of the two ponies, the land slowly began to change, the low hills eventually giving way to wide rolling grasslands punctuated by scattered trees and hedgerows. It was certainly a quiet place, a land of peace, calm and serenity that Dray hadn’t fully appreciated when he was young and, he had to admit, rather impetuous. Father’s expectation that he would take over the family farm and spend his days there had rankled the young stallion. It threatened to snuff out all of his hopes and dreams, turning him into just another version of his father. Dray had hated the idea, dreading the prospect of endless years of ploughing, sowing and reaping until he passed away from this world leaving nothing but a grave marker to show that he’d ever existed. And so, following some foolishly grandiose notion of glory, he’d enlisted, and where had that got him? The borderlands…

The cooling wind reminded him of the endless winter stationed there and the horrors that were an almost daily occurrence, so much so that after the initial shock of seeing a pony torn apart by one of the beasts that lived in those parts, it had ceased to affect him; at least, on the outside. He gave his mane a shake and snorted loudly. That was the past, it was all in the past, dead and buried like his father. Now, the farm was his, Honeys and his two beautiful foals’. He hadn’t seen them since being called back up, and now, now he was so close he could almost smell the wood smoke from the chimney and the fresh cinnamon rolls baking in the oven. Goddesses, he’d missed all of them so much, but mostly, he’d missed Honeysuckle his beautiful wife. Sure, she wasn’t as young as she once was, but then neither was he, and he was certainly no picture! Scarred by years of hard living and battle, it was finally time to put that all of that behind him and look forward to a future with his loving family. An image of Honey gazing into his eyes as she drew him towards her entered his minds eye. He could still recall how she would kiss him so tenderly, with such love, it made Drays heart respond, adding a spring to his step. A casually kicked stone rattled past him, catching his attention and bringing him out of his happy daydreaming state. He smiled,

“Lieutenant?”

The white stallion lifted his head, “Sir?”

“Do you have any plans? Anywhere you can go from here?”

Cove shook his head.

“You’re most welcome to stay with us for as long as you need to,” Dray continued, “but bear in mind it’s not a big farm so you may have to put up with a little discomfort until we can sort something out for you.”

“Yes, Sir”

Dray shook his head wearily. He’d really have to sort something out alright: the Lieutenant himself.

Cove stopped suddenly, his ears swivelling forward, an intent look on his face,

“Somepony’s coming”.

Training instantly kicked in. Dray and the young Lieutenant quickly looked for cover, hurrying to the thick bushes at the side of the road and hunkered down, keeping as silent as possible. Cove passed Dray his spear and drew his sword, his breathing slowing as he concentrated on the approaching figure. Staring at the pony for a moment, Dray began to wonder why they were doing this; he was going home wasn’t he? What the hell was he doing hiding?!

“Good goddesses, what the hell’s wrong with me?” he muttered and stood up.

“Colonel! Goddess damn it!” Cove hissed, but stayed where he was.

An elderly orange unicorn mare, carrying a basket of apples atop her saddle bags, slowly walked towards them. Old she may be, but certainly not frail by any means. Outdoors life hardened a pony and promoted good health. Dray’s own father had lived a fine long life, at least until his accident, and by the looks of it, this old dame was a lot fitter than he’d initially given her credit for.

“Mornin’” She mumbled, walking past a few steps.

She stopped.

“You’re not young Dray are you? Herald’s boy?” The mare peered back at the Colonel over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing, “By the goddesses…you are!”

Dray shook his head in wonderment as she approached,

“Hello Fair Breeze, how are you?”

She shook her head smiling, “How am I? How are you!” She clopped him on the shoulder, “Look at you! You’re…you’re huge!” She began laughing, “Oh my goodness, Honeysuckle and the children will be overjoyed to see you’re back!” She paused, “You are back, aren’t you? You’re no spring chicken anymore Mister Dray, and you have a family to look after you know. Times are hard enough without stallions swanning off to…”

“Alright! Alright!” Dray laughed, “Please, Fair, I promise you I’m back for good this time!” He shook his mane, “No more fighting and definitely no more wars for this stallion. I’m going to be a good old farm worker like Dad was.”

“Mmhmm” Fair Breeze stared right into his eyes, “You should be too, it’s a good farm that one, young Dray. Honeysuckle has worked hard to keep it going while you’ve been doing…” She waved a hoof, “whatever it is that you blasted young-uns do!”

The old mare raised an eyebrow peering past him, “And you can come out of there too if you’ve finished playing hide and seek.”

Lieutenant Cove pulled himself out of the bushes, his coat covered in twigs and leaves. Giving himself a good shake, he sheathed his sword and cautiously approached.

“You can come nearer you know” Fair said in a calm voice, “I don’t bite.” Her eyes looked him up and down, a wry grin spreading across her face, “Mind you, if I’d been thirty years younger…”

“Fair!” Dray squeaked in surprise.

The orange coated mare batted her eyelids and cast Cove a lustful gaze with her big purple eyes before bursting into raucous laughter, all but rolling on the ground as she shook with merriment,

“Oh don’t be so prudish!” She wiped the tears from her eyes desperately trying to regain some control, “I have had foals you know, and unless you can’t remember, you had a couple of your own too!”

Dray shook his head while the Lieutenant busied himself picking leaves from his coat, and doing anything other than make eye contact with the mare.

“Fair, can you tell me what’s been happening around here while I’ve been gone?” The Colonel asked.

“Well,” She replied scratching her mane, “If’n yer have the ears to listen, then I’d be delighted. Come on, you two big boys can escort me to the turnpike.”

Shouldering Fair Breeze’s bags between them, the three ponies walked along the well trodden road back towards Hockspeth. Things hadn’t changed much from what the old mare said: a few births, a few deaths, but little else of note. The Legion had certainly passed by the village but apart from a few scouts, they hadn’t, as he was relieved to hear, shown any inclination to enter the village itself. In a way he wasn’t surprised, the village held no real tactical importance and by and large, the villagers were fairly apathetic towards anything that happened outside of Hockspeth. That included the dealings of royalty, and especially the war, showing them little more than a passing curiosity. What concerned the people of Hockspeth mostly was the weather; be it too wet, too hot, or even just right, it was always the number one topic of conversation down the local tavern.

Fair Breeze herself came from one of the oldest farms in the area, with numerous sons, daughters and grandfoals to her credit. She also had quite the reputation as a lady who liked stallions too, with the usual rumours doing the rounds about the questionable parentage of several of her offspring. In a small village like Hockspeth, rumours spread like wildfire and everypony there loved nothing better than sticking their muzzles into each others business. Fair Breeze however, didn’t let such a thing as gossip faze her in the slightest and there was more than one embarrassed looking stallion when conversations turned to who her latest flame was. Mind you, that was a good few years ago, reminding Dray just how many years were behind him now too. Goddesses, how he’d wasted his life…

“So, ‘Lieutenant’ was it?” Fair eyed the young stallion as they crossed the small bridge over a bubbling stream.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She giggled, “Oh! He’s very well mannered isn’t he, Dray?” Fair closed her eyes and sighed, “I knew a Lieutenant once, handsome fellow he was too. Such soft hooves…”

“Ahem!” Dray cleared his throat noisily.

Fair laughed, “Tsk! You stallions!” Turning her attention to the Lieutenant once more, she gave him a nudge, “Anypony waiting for you back home?”

“No, Ma’am”

“A pity”, Fair replied raising an eyebrow, “A handsome stallion like you. If you were my fellow I wouldn’t give you a minute’s sleep. I’d be buc…”

Dray nearly choked, “-Fair, please, for the love of Celestia!”

“Oh, poo!” She pouted, “A mare can’t even tease a stallion these days without somepony getting all uppity. And don’t look at me like that, young Dray, I knew your mother you know and you’re not too old to get a bloody good spanking.” She waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively.

Oh goddesses, this wasn’t happening! Dray looked at the Lieutenant for some sort of salvation from the frisky old bugger only to find the object of Fair’s attention standing there with his cheeks virtually glowing. In fact, the white stallion’s whole face had turned bright red and…oh, please no…he was…he was actually giving her that sort of look too! By Celestia’s hairy arse, she was old enough to be his grandmother! Thank goodness Fair was only teasing him or else…

“Lieutenant?” Fair Breeze’s voice was low and dusky.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“If you…get cold tonight…” She looked away shyly, “I…I’ve got somewhere warm…you know, for you to stay.” Her demeanour was suddenly intensely feminine despite her years, “It’s warm…and soft. There’s good food too.” She smiled at him alluringly and moved in closer, her eyes looking up into his, “On the road into the village, it’s the last turn on the right by the old lightning tree.” She took a breath, “Just…if you get…” Fair Breeze moved her muzzle right next to the rigid stallion’s ear, “…lonely.”

In the next heartbeat, Fair Breeze had recovered her bags of apples and was trotting gamely back off up the road towards home, pausing a moment only to flick her tail suggestively and stick her tongue out at the bewildered soldiers. Dray face hoofed,

“Come on Romeo,” he sighed, “let’s get home before all that blood goes to your head.” “Or other parts…” he muttered under his breath.

Cove stared after the mare before stammering, “Y…yeah…” Giving himself a shake, he broke into a trot to catch up with the Colonel.

The road bent round to the right past the edge of a small wood, the trees rustling in the steadily increasing breeze. Rain would be coming soon, but they didn’t have far to go now fortunately, just over the small footbridge Dray and his father had built together so they didn’t have to keep using the ford, and then…

He stopped. There, ahead of them was a small farmhouse, a thin trickle of wood smoke rising lazily from the chimney, just starting to be whipped around by the wind. The cosy idyllic home sat surrounded by a neatly trimmed hedge with its white painted wicket gate exactly as he’d remember them. It was all as he’d remembered: the windows, the thatch, it was as if he’d never left. The vines growing over the stone walls probably could do with trimming though, and somepony had left the cart out…again! How many times!

A drop of water fell on his muzzle and he looked up,

“Here it comes…” he muttered, and then the rain hit.

“Come on!” Dray shouted at the Lieutenant, and set off full gallop for the gate.

As they approached the gate, a honey coloured mare rushed out of the house followed by two foals sporting clothes baskets. Nimbly, the unicorn mare took down the garments with her magic, shouting instructions to the young ones as the rain began to hammer down around them. In no time at all, the foals had been sent running back into the house, the last basket of laundry floating in front of the mare while she too made for the shelter of the door.

She stopped.

“Hello, love”

The purple glow of magic winked out, sending the basket crashing onto the doorstep.

“Mummy?” A young voice called from the depths of the open doorway, “What’s wrong? What’s…Daddy? DADDY!”

A blur of white and black hurtled up the garden path and threw itself like a wet furry comet into the open forelegs of the Colonel. It was overpowering; the emotional overload carrying him away on a wave of relief and bliss that made him cry helplessly with the sheer joy of being able to be with his family once more. Tears poured down the scarred face of the old warrior, mingling with the heavy drops of rain as he sank to his haunches and hugged his equally tearful foal.

“Polo…Daddy’s home.”

The honey coated mare’s head turned slowly, as if she were frightened that if she looked, if she really saw what she wanted to see, the merest blink or breath could send it away like the barest memory of a dream. Honeysuckle stared at her husband with her deep brown eyes, the one’s he’d gazed into on that cold night so many years ago, when he asked her to marry him. Gingerly, oh so slowly, she began to walk towards him. Her hoofsteps were hesitant, unsure, but he was there, wasn’t he? It was really him? Honeysuckle could see Polo, he was jumping and running about by the grey stallion’s hooves while he himself stood next to somepony she didn’t recognise, but…it was still him.

Honeysuckle held up a hoof, tentatively, slowly, tracing the contours of his face, the scars, the lines, his mouth, muzzle, even his ears. Water dripped from him, making his grey coat darken even more in the now increasing rainstorm. She didn’t speak, letting her eyes say all that needed to be said as she moved closer still. Like some frightened rabbit, the honey coloured mare moved her muzzle alongside Drays, her nose taking in his scent. He could hear her breathing, feel the heat emanating from her as she watched him. Slowly, she brought her lips to his, softly placing them upon him and kissing him as gently as the brush of a spider’s web and as sensitive as a newborn foal. She moved in again, pressing more firmly, reaching a hoof out to his chest and gasping out a loud moan.

Dray and Honeysuckle didn’t notice the Lieutenant shooing Polo into the house and pushing back in a scandalised Dawn Dew who was staring out of the open door at her parents with her mouth hanging wide open. Neither of them cared. The world around them, the rain, the wind, none of it mattered.

Right now, right then…it was their time.

Chapter Sixteen - Tavern Trouble

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

TAVERN TROUBLE

“I keep telling you, you have to put more emphasis on the ‘r’. Here, look,” Chalk waved his hoof enthusiastically and took a breath, “Aaarrrgghh” He slammed his beer mug down on the table, “See?”

Sat across from him, the black stallion with a deep blue mane rolled his eyes,

“What a load of bollocks!” Bracken took another pull on his beer, “Everypony, EVERYPONY, knows that…” he let out a gut wrenching burp, “…pirates don’t really talk like they do in the books, they’re just like you and me.”

“I’ve heard them! I’ve bloody heard them!” Chalk nodded furiously, “They try to hide it, but it’s for show see…secretly, secretly mind, they all do it” He swallowed the last of his beer, “They want to do it you see, it’s in their nature. HOY WAITRESS, TWO MORE BEERS!” He banged his hoof on the table before leaning back towards Bracken, “They need to do it, dude, they need to.”

Bracken’s hoof slipped as he made a grab for his beer. For some strange reason it seemed to be moving around the table trying to get away from him,

“But…why? Do they like, explode or something? Like, if they go a few days without a good ‘Arrrgh’, their minds can’t take it and BOOM!” He finally managed to catch the elusive beer mug, “Just like that!” He slammed his hoof on the table making several mugs fall noisily onto the floor.

“Right you two, I’ve had enough of your bloody antics, OUT!”

A large burgundy coated stallion with several nasty looking scars across his muzzle glowered down at them. He didn’t look happy.

“Oh, buck off will ya?” Chalk quipped, “We’re just having a laugh!”

“Yeah,” Bracken added, “go and get yourself a girl buddy and leave us alone. We’re not your type.”

Chalky burst out laughing, but the burgundy pony wasn’t in the mood for humour,

“You looking for a fight, friend?”

“What, you think you could take us?” Chalk chuckled drunkenly, “Look at you! You look like you fell face first into the cutlery drawer!”

The large stallion’s eyes narrowed, “You bucking little arse, you ain’t fit to lick my shoes! Unlike your prissy little hides, i’ve been in more than a hundred fights!”

“Don’t worry buddy,” Chalky smirked, “Nopony loses all the time…”

Whoever threw the first blow would probably never be known as the ensuing melee quickly spread to become a tavern wide free for all. Chairs, tables, bottles, beer mugs, in fact anything and everything that could be picked up and swung or thrown was rapidly pressed into service to pummel other customers. Chalk ducked as the huge burgundy stallion threw a punch that gave Bracken the opening he needed to crown the big fellow with the bench he’d been sitting on. The stallion collapsed in a heap, rapidly disappearing beneath the tide of battle that had turned the tavern into a war zone. Bracken grabbed Chalk urgently,

“Let’s get the buck out of here!”

The unicorn didn’t need any encouragement, “Right behind you, just…look out!”

A griffin flew across the remnants of their table and crashed into the wall sending a shower of broken glass fragments raining down around them.

“This isn’t good! Come on!” Bracken charged for the door, dodging and weaving as he went, Chalk hot on his heels. They were nearly there! A few more inches and…The door burst open with a loud crash and several hulking armoured thugs pushed inside, quickly taking stock of the place. One of them hefted a huge cudgel large enough to crack a minotaur’s skull. Bracken, his chest heaving, ducked behind the open door and pressed himself against the wall, catching Chalk as he did so. The huge pony with the cudgel smiled wickedly,

“Ready boys?”

The others behind her drew their respective weapons and with a bellow, charged in and immediately began laying about them with complete abandon. Few of the tavern’s patrons noticed the newcomers, busily engaged as they were already with battering each other senseless, but quickly, one by one, they were bludgeoned and thrown out the door where another of the armoured entourage was unceremoniously dumping the unconscious revellers into a large cart.

“Damn it! We have to find another way out!” Bracken shouted over the din.

Chalk nodded, his chest heaving, “I saw a door over there, it must lead out the back.”

“Right” Bracken nodded, “Let’s go!”

Pushing others out of the way, the two managed to leap and careen around the mass of drunken anger to the rear of the bar and, sure enough, there was the open door to what transpired to be the kitchen. Visible inside, several of the kitchen staff and serving maids were busy moving furniture up to barricade the door. Just in the nick of time, the two friends dived through, much to the shock of the ponies within. One of them, a huge aubergine earth pony mare with legs like tree trunks, swung an equally huge ladle at Chalk’s head that whistled inches only over his ears. He didn’t stop; moments later, after bidding the furious mares a rather sarcastic farewell, the two stallions were out into the relative freedom and cool air of the back street. Leaning against a mouldy stone wall and panting for breath, Chalk and Bracken grinned at each other like a pair of village idiots.

“Fancy another?” Chalk asked, clopping his friend on the shoulder.

Bracken shook his head, laughing with relief and the thrill of adrenalin while he gulped in air. He stared up at Chalk, a huge smile spreading across his face,

“Oh, hell yeah!”

The fight was still in full swing as they rounded the corner of the building and came face to face with a huge griffin holding a cudgel. She had a look about her that suggested that if you even thought about crossing her, you’d likely end up on her evening menu…or worse.

“Who are you?” She snapped in her avian voice, “I don’t recognise you two, you new in port?” The creature’s eyes bored into the friends like two white hot coals.

“Evening Miss”, Chalk smiled innocently, “We’ve only just come into port and were told we could find a nice quiet place to relax and have a drink, somewhere around here.” He motioned to the tavern beside them, “I don’t think we’ll be going in there though, it looks a little…’rough’ for us.”

“Oh, yes!” Bracken nodded sincerely, “We don’t want to get into any trouble!”

“Well, you seem a couple of sensible types”, the griffin said raising a feathered eyebrow. She waved them off down the road, “Get yourselves along now and keep out of trouble.”

“Thank you Miss, you’re very kind” Chalk bowed and swept one of his forelegs around with a flourish.

The female griffin shook her head before returning to her task of helping return some semblance of order back to the tavern, despite the ever increasing number of keen onlookers. Chalk and Bracken quickly and quietly melted away into the crowded main thoroughfare, nudging each other and chuckling about their narrow escape. Unfortunately however, Spurs Anvil quickly turned out to be a mind boggling maze of twisting, winding, alleys and cut-throughs. Unsure of the layout of the old port, they kept to what probably was, under all the years of compacted muck, the main road until they were well clear of the chaos they’d left behind in their wake.

Passing the rotting remains of a timber warehouse, the two continued walking, taking in the novel sights and dubious smells all around them. This part of Spurs Anvil was quieter, a lot quieter in fact, the back alleys and streets just as decayed and filth ridden as the rest, but with a more tangible feeling of being ‘empty’ somehow. Bracken glanced around himself, his hackles going up,

“Chalky…”

“Hmm?” The white unicorn replied absently.

“I don’t like it here. You want to go back?”

“I…” Chalk never had a chance to finish his sentence as the cloaked pony rushing around the corner slammed bodily into him. His hooves slipped awkwardly on the slimy cobbles as he caught himself from falling. “Bloody hell!” Chalk gasped, winded “watch it will you!” Giving himself a quick shake, he looked up and caught a fleeting glimpse of a green leg and blue tail poking out from under the cloak. Whoever it was though was fast, rapidly gathering their wits and galloping off at full speed back towards the centre of the port.

“You okay?” Bracken asked worriedly. He reached out and clopped Chalk on the shoulder to comfort him.

The white unicorn scrubbed his mane,

“Yeah, I guess so. Did you see that? She just came out of nowhere!”

“I’ll tell you what I do see…” Bracken held up a hoof, a wide toothy grin spreading across his face, “Behold!”

The creaking sign hanging outside boldly proclaimed ‘The Fighting Cocks’, along with a blistered painting of a rather badly rendered cockerel. How the sign had managed to stay attached to the building was a miracle in itself, let alone how it still remained legible. It was the dirtiest, filthiest looking dive Chalk Dust had ever seen. Taking in the cracked plaster, decaying brickwork and rotten window frames, this place looked like it had been a cesspit when the rest of the port was still in its heyday. The door was partially open and music rolled out from inside, a lively shanty played on melodeon and fiddle that called out to the white unicorn, reminding him of the evening on board ship with the rest of the crew; well, as much as he could still remember anyway. The rest of that evening had been a peculiar blur of buckets and minty aftertaste. Before he knew it, Bracken was already disappearing inside and heading for what passed as a bar. For himself, Chalk was ready for another one…or three, regardless of the squalid setting.

A heavy set bar mare in a stained red and, what was probably once white, dress, narrowed her eyes at them,

“Yeah?”

“Two mugs of your finest ale, my good lady” Bracken smiled expansively.

“Four bits”

Bracken slammed the bits on the bar top and they disappeared in the blink of an eye into the mare’s apron. Without another word she trotted off to a large barrel at the end of the bar where a large chalkboard hung down covered in surprisingly colourful writing despite the hot and dingy atmosphere. The sign somewhat enthusiastically announced:

‘We’ve got Millers Pigs Ear! Only 2 Bits a pint! Ask about our range of pies!’

Bracken was feeling a little peckish, as he always did when he’d been drinking and a pie would just hit the spot. The bar mare slammed the mugs on the bar top. Taking his mug, Bracken caught the mare’s attention with the wave of a hoof,

“Miss?”

“Yeah?” she replied raising an eyebrow.

Bracken indicated the sign, “I’d like to ask about your range of pies.”

“Well,” She replied scratching her muzzle, “You can ask.”

“Okay…”

She picked up a cloth and began wiping a beer mug out, “We haven’t got any.”

“Oh.” The black stallion said, caught off guard, “Er, anything to eat? Any snacks?”

“We got salt lick,” She said pointing to a glass jar behind her, “one per customer.”

“Two please” Bracken placed the bits on the bar where, once again, they vanished like magic. How did she do that?! He hadn’t even seen her hooves move!

The salt licks duly arrived and the two friends walked over to a spare table near the fireplace. It was quite pleasant in the old tavern really. The music was more ‘enthusiastic’ than actually any good of course, but the patrons didn’t seem to care. They were a collection of old codgers, for the most part at any rate, and didn’t pay much attention to the two newcomers; except for one crusty looking old peach coloured stallion with a wooden leg, an eye patch and a large black hat. He was leaning so close to the fire, his fur was in very real danger of catching light, especially with the fumes the old fellow was giving off. Apparently personal hygiene wasn’t particularly high on the list of priorities here. The old stallion eyed them both with his pale blue eye, his matted grey mane hanging in plaits down his neck. He grinned. To Brackens horror, Chalk was staring at the fellow open mouthed.

“You aint from ‘ere, are yer boys?” The old stallion asked, his voice sounding like he’d had more than a few beers already.

Chalk shook his head, “No sir, we’re new in port.”

“Thought so, thought so…” The old stallion nodded to himself knowingly, “Which ship ye be from?”

Strangely eager to speak to him, Chalk was an open book,

“The King Sombra’s Revenge, sir”

“Ah, Captain Gretel’s sky galleon, eh?” The old timer grinned, “Ye be a strange one to ‘ave aboard though, boy. You bein’ a unicorn an’ all.”

Bracken looked around, but nopony seemed to be paying them any attention. Thank the goddesses! Chalks mouth could get them into trouble if he didn’t watch what he was saying, and here in port, keeping your own council was probably a good idea. That said, this chap seemed fairly harmless; once you got past the painfully cliché way he spoke. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, Chalky was virtually lapping it up.

“I understand magic’s banned on board, sir.” Chalk explained, “But the Captain’s told me I can become a full member of the crew if I promise never to use magic.”

“Aye, that be very trusting of ‘er my fine young fella. But I tells ye, it be a dangerous thing to ‘ave magic aboard a vessel, especially one like the Revenge.”

Chalks eyes were wide with fascination, “Why’s that?”

“I can tell ye, boy, but me throats a little parched. It’s me age, y’see, too many years in the salt air dries out a ponies lungs somethin’ fierce.”

The white stallion banged his hoof urgently on the bar top, “One more for our friend here!”

Rolling her eyes, the bar mare trotted over with a beer which the old stallion took happily,

“Thank ye, young fella. Ye be a good’un. Now, get yerself comfy like and I’ll tell ye a story about my old ship.” He took a swig of his ale, “She was a fine old girl too, the most beautiful sky galleon the Empire ‘ad ever built. Older than the Revenge she was, older even than the Wind Wraith. Aye, she was the last of ‘er kind and a real lady of the skies.” He smiled, “Let old Weevil ‘ere tell ye the story of the Raven’s Eye.”

Bracken hung his head. This looked like it was going to be a loooong night…

**************************

The fire had begun to burn low and their makeshift storyteller, ‘Weevil’ apparently, was final wrapping up his story. It was just as well too, as the old stallion had sunk well over six beers and the two friends themselves were beginning to feel the effects of unrestricted drinking ashore. Bracken was eking out the last dregs of his beer while Chalky was still busily engaged pumping the old stallion for information,

“So, using magic interferes with the ship’s natural magic and can make it fall out of the sky?” He asked scratching his mane, “That can really happen?”

“Aye, lad”, Weevil took a pull on his ale, “It’s the old magic, y’see, nopony alive knows ‘ow to build these beauties of the sky any more. When the Empire vanished, ‘poof!’ that was it! All the shipyards, all the magic…all gone. And the loss of the Raven’s Eye was a loss that could never be recovered. Truly, a terrible, terrible day.” He stretched, “Now, you boys will ‘ave to excuse an old stallion, I’m going to ‘ave to call it a ni…”

Chalk leaned in, “-but, you survived, didn’t you? You were a member of her crew?”

“I…yes, I said I was young master Chalk, but fate was kind to old Weevil, that was all. Now then, I really must be…”

“-But how did you survive the crash?” Chalk pressed, “Did you swim to shore? Maybe cast away on a deserted island?”

Weevil backed away, suddenly lost for words,

“Um…”

“He was down with a dose of crabs!” Somepony shouted over, “The old fart had been up to his naffs in mares at Madam Pickles’ place. When the Raven left port for the last time, he was in the surgeon’s office having his…”

“-Shut up, Barker!” The bar mare shouted over.

“It’s only the truth!” Another patron called back, “He’s a bloody fraud! I don’t know why you let the cadging old fart in here.”

Perplexed Chalk looked at Bracken who just shook his head and rolled his eyes. Had he been taken for a fool by the old sailor? Right! He’d find out for sure one way or another! He turned to…

“Bugger me! He’s gone!”

Chalk jumped down off his chair and looked about the bar, but of the old peach stallion, there was no sign. The bar mare trotted over and leaned on bar beside them,

“Yup, he’s good at that. Always did have the knack for disappearing” She shrugged, “Usually when it was time to pay up, too.”

Chalk let out a groan and face hoofed,

“So all that was nothing more than a tall tale to get us to buy him drinks? For Celestia’s sake!”

Bracken drained the last of his beer, “Tried to tell you. All that bloody ‘Arrrgh’ stuff! Goddess almighty, you really fell for that one.”

“Oh sod off!” Chalk snapped, “You sat there and said bugger all!”

“But you were having so much fun listening to him, I didn’t want to spoil your evening.” Bracken chuckled.

“I see, so you were doing me a favour were you?”

Bracken just shook his head and smiled,

“Pretty much!”

Chalk groaned, “I still can’t believe it was all a load of bollocks. Seriously Brack, I…”

“-Oh, it wasn’t all sea mist and sirens, lads.” A cream coated mare with a red and green mane trotted up beside them, “Old Weevil’s story was true alright. He just left out the bit about him skipping out on her last voyage.” She gave them a wink, “Happens when you catch a dose at Madam Pickles’. Good luck says I.”

“Hang on…” Chalk said rubbing his chin in thought, “So, if Weevil wasn’t on the Raven’s Eye, what really happened to her?”

The mare gave him a wry smile, “Get me a brandy and I’ll tell you, sweet flanks.”

“Oh, no!” Bracken started, “Not this again!”

“Oh, shut up” the mare snapped, “I’m not like Weevil. I’ll tell you what I know and you can work the rest out for yourselves. It’s all ancient history anyway. Still…” She winked at Chalk, “Well worth a brandy…or…”

“Please Miss, I’d like to know.” He replied excitedly.

The mare clucked her tongue, “Fine! Right then, well, what Weevil told you was true, right? Only when the Raven’s Eye set sail for the Llamalian Empire, she was never seen again, at least, not in one piece.”

Bracken furrowed his brow, “Llamalian Empire?”

The mare nodded, “Aye, good place for woollen goods. Anyway, as I was saying,” she took a mouthful of her brandy, “The ship was never seen again. Pieces of her hull and the bloated bodies of dead sailors washed ashore for a weeks afterwards and that’s how we know she went down.”

Chalk furrowed his brow, “So, where does this unicorn thing come from then?”

“The what?” she said.

“You know,” Chalk waved a hoof in explanation, “unicorns on board ship is bad luck, and all that mumbo jumbo.” The mare looked perplexed but Chalk ploughed on, “If nopony survived, how can anypony know for sure that it was magic that made her crash? How do we know it wasn’t something else?”

Shaking her vividly coloured mane, the mare shrugged, “All I can tell you is that there was one unicorn on board, one who was very powerful in the darker arts. He had quite the reputation too, but not in a good way I hear, went by the name of Fire Light.”

“What happened to him?” Chalk asked.

The mare shook her head irritably, “What part of ‘nopony survived’ was confusing for you?”

“But you can’t know for sure, can you?” Chalk replied, “Unless somepony counted the bodies, somepony could, feasibly have survived.”

“Look” the cream mare said finishing off her brandy, “It doesn’t really matter, none of it does, its history, gone and forgotten.” She slipped off the bar stool and moved in closer to him, her indigo eyes sparkling in the firelight, “You know, if you’re looking for a room tonight…”

“Oh, goddesses!” Chalk barked, “It’s nearly nine!” He suddenly grabbed Bracken by the collar and pulled him towards the door, “Come on, we have to move!”

The white unicorn was already out of the door, leaving Bracken to bob an apologetic nod to the mare, but she’d already headed off to chat with another of the ponies in the bar. Bloody typical! They always went for Chalky didn’t they? Nopony ever showed him any…the sudden memory of a pair of deep azure eyes gazing into his flashed through his mind, the scent of wild flowers and honey…

Chalk poked his muzzle back round the door and hissed, “Brack, come on!”

They began the long and rather wobbly walk back to the ship. After a while, Bracken began to look around in concern. The sun had long since set, plunging the port into almost complete darkness. Only a few sporadic lanterns lit the way and Chalky, his magic impaired through drink, wasn’t much use for providing light or…as it turned out, directions.

“Damn it, Chalky, this isn’t the way we came.” Bracken muttered.

The white unicorn stopped and peered up the street, “Nah, we’re going in the right direction dude, we’ll be back before…”

Bracken shoved him with a hoof, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “Don’t say anything and don’t look round. We’re being followed.” He began walking again, motioning Chalk to follow closely, “Three, maybe four of them.”

“Armed?”

“I think it’s safe to assume they are.” Bracken whispered, “You have anything on you?”

Chalk shook his head, “No, only magic, and with the amount I’ve had to drink, you can forget that.”

“Buck it all…” Bracken gritted his teeth in frustration, “Ready for a run?”

“No…” Chalk sighed then took a steadying breath, “Alright then. Brack, when we get around the next corner, yes?”

Bracken nodded his assent.

The long road began to bend revealing a turning off to the left which was deep in shadow but with just enough moonlight to show it wasn’t a dead end, at least, as far they could tell. Bracken nodded to his friend and the two ducked into the alley and hid behind a pile of rubbish. It was a risky manoeuvre; if these characters found them, they’d have little choice but to run or fight. First of all though, he had to make sure he wasn’t mistaken. These could simply be drunken revellers trying to find their way back to their beds.

Time dragged by, only seconds in all probability, but in the chill evening air it felt a lot longer. Even Bracken’s heartbeat seemed abnormally loud in the silence as he waited, watched and listed. But of the shadowy figures, there was no sign, and he was beginning to wonder whether he’d made a mistake, until…

“Damn it, where’d they go?”

A dark figure in a long cloak appeared silhouetted in the moonlight at the end of the alley, barely a few yards from them. His voice was strange, with a high pitched quality: a griffin?

“How the hell am I supposed to know?” another figure hissed, “Keep your voice down and keep looking!”

The two figures hurried off up the street, another two hot on their heels until one, the last one, suddenly stopped and turned. Bracken didn’t dare to move but he knew, he could feel it…the bloody creature was staring right at them.

“Chalky, lets move!”

His unicorn friend didn’t need telling twice. The two of them broke cover and took off at high speed. By the sounds of it, their pursuers were following not far behind. Corner after corner flew past in a blur, the mud and filth strewn ground helped muffle their hoofsteps, but in the unfamiliar surroundings of the port they were at a huge disadvantage against anypony who knew its layout well. Running as fast as they dared, fear drove them to take risks they normally wouldn’t.

“Down here!” Bracken shouted to Chalk and the two ducked down another side street as a crossbow bolt pinged off a cast iron gutter pipe beside them. In the distance they could hear angry shouting, but now was not the time to concentrate on anything other than putting as much distance between them and…whoever they were. His ears flat, Bracken took the last corner and slipped, his hind hooves hitting something soft and slimy, sending his crashing full tilt into an old barrel. If the archaic timbers hadn’t been so rotted, it was likely he would have smashed his ribs. Instead, the black coated stallion disappeared in a fountain of foul smelling water and wooden shards.

Chalk slammed to a halt, calling to his friend, “Brack! Are you okay?”

Bracken began to pull himself out and winced at the pain lancing up his leg,

“Bollocks, no!” he hissed gritting his teeth, “I think I’ve pulled something. Look, Chalky, you get out of here. I’ll stay here and…”

A white hoof thumped off his head.

“Ow!”

Chalk grabbed the black earth pony’s muzzle, “The next one’s going right in your balls if you don’t get up!”

The voices were coming closer but Bracken could only hobble, despite leaning on his friend for support. Damn it! Now neither of them would be able to get away and Bracken knew it. Chalky should have left him and made a run for it. He could have at least slowed them up to give him a chance to get away. They were probably just muggers after money anyway. If he gave them what he had, he’d most likely get away with just a thump round the head. Bracken shook his mane angrily. The shouts of their pursuers were closing in, and they were still up this bloody alley in the pitch black! He closed his eyes and prayed.

“Hey Jade, you get sorted out with that big blue fella?”

A barrage of sound burst into the alley with the sudden ferocity of a bursting dam. Accompanying the deluge, a flood of light poured out of the open door silhouetting a heavily built mare with a thin pipe poking out of the corner of her mouth,

“Nah, e’s got the clap.” A voice called back to her from inside, “I telt Pickles I ain’t touchin’ ‘im.”

“Don’t blame ya, aint worth getting yerself a dose fer…” The large mare paused, her eyes swivelling round to fix on the two stallions standing not more than a few feet away, “’ere, what are you two doin’ out there?” She sniffed, “Phwoar! He stinks like crap too!”

“Please…” Chalk gasped trying to catch his breath, “We need help.”

“Pfff! Yeah right! Ah wouldn’t let yous in lookin’ like that,” she waved a hoof at the bedraggled looking Bracken, “an ‘e stinks an all.”

Another mare pushed through the door, “Frilly? What are you…” A sea green mare stared at the two males, her big yellow eyes narrowing as she peered through her spectacles, “Hmm…” She tapped a hoof against her chin in apparent thought, “Get them inside.”

“But, ma’am!”

“Do as you’re bloody told, girl!” the green mare snapped, “Now get them in, and take them upstairs for a bath. That black one stinks like a midden, and…” she nodded to herself, lost in thought, “Take him to my room…when he’s clean.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The two males were unceremoniously hauled inside and the door slammed shut behind them with a heavy metallic clang.

The exertion of the evenings activities, not least because of the copious amounts of alcohol he’d imbibed, was all coming together to make Chalk feel like his head was going to roll right off his shoulders. The room he now found himself in stank of some kind of floral perfume. It wasn’t particularly unpleasant, not at all really, it was just…overpoweringly strong. A young mare fussed around him, wiping his coat down and brushing him while he stood there dumbfounded. So much for a bath! His saviour sat on a large cushioned chair beside the fireplace which was roaring away despite the mildness of the evening. She was middle aged mare, possibly even a little older, and she had the air of a female who was in complete control. Her sea green coat was lustrous and smooth, her deep yellow eyes shining brightly beneath a two tone pink mane. Following the curvaceous pony’s form was a beautifully tailored black and white dress which covered her from her neck to her tail. Chalk swallowed, he’d never seen a pony look so…elegant.

“You can speak, can’t you?” She purred, watching him like a cat watching a mouse.

Chalk took a deep breath, “Yes, miss.”

“Miss…” The green mare cocked an eyebrow, “Most call me ‘Ma’am’ or, if I allow it, ‘Pickles’.” She reached a hoof out to a wine carafe and nodded to him meaningfully.

Hurriedly, Chalk filled the glass and passed it to her. She lifted it with her hooves and took a sip. The white stallion’s eyes tracked her every move, from the way she lifted the glass, to the way she swallowed. By the goddesses, she was the most incredible mare he’d ever beheld…almost as incredible as…

“You must be the one who’s warming Gretel’s bed then, are you?” She asked nonchalantly.

Chalk nodded before he fully understood what she’d said.

“Hmm, I thought so.” Pickles gave a dainty sigh, “That one always had…’novel’ taste in males.” She adjusted her spectacles and looked him up and down, “Not my taste, but not bad. A little too, shall we say, ‘pretty’?” She gave a lilting laugh. Smiling, the mare nodded to the younger mares who curtsied and left the room, leaving just the two of them together.

“You appear to have a certain ‘naivety’, Mister Dust, if you forgive me for saying so.” The mare smiled at him disarmingly, “Did you know your shipmates went looking for you at the Full Moon earlier and found you’d ‘disappeared’? They caused quite a stir looking for you too, especially that Stock fellow. He has quite way about him that one. Yes…” She stared off for a moment, “quite a way.”

Chalk frowned, “Pardon me, Ma’am, but we really must be going. I have an appointment to keep and…”

“And nothing” Pickles said calmly, her voice at odds to the light in her eyes, “In this town, we trade, Mister Chalk. Everypony pays their dues, be it in bits or other methods, and I believe that you owe me for saving your hide, yes?”

“I…” He sighed, his ears flopping as he lowered his head, “Yes Ma’am.”

“Good.” Pickles clopped her hooves, “Now, Mister Dust, you most likely wont know much about Spurs Anvil, but I can tell you this: Information is commodity here, and knowledge can mean the difference between life and death…or worse. You’ve seen my girls? All of them work here for fair conditions and fair pay, I won’t have anypony taken advantage of in this establishment, but we still need to keep our heads above water.” She blinked her eyelids slowly, “And nothing, Mister Dust, is free.”

What the hell was she after? Information? Chalk’s mane itched, he didn’t like the way this was going and he had to…Oh goddesses, the time! He caught a glimpse of the clock on the wall…it was after nine already! He cleared his throat,

“Ma’am, please, I can pay for your kindness but I really must be on my way, the Captain is expecting me.”

She grinned knowingly, “Yes, I expect she is. First of all however, I need you to pay your debt.”

Chalk’s eyes narrowed, “Ma’am, no, I can’t…”

Pickles paused, a look of uncertainty crossing her features until she suddenly burst out laughing, her eyes sparkling in the firelight,

“Oh, my! You thought that I…? With you?” She held a hoof to her mouth, “Oh, Mister Chalk, you are a card!” Pickles shook her head in wonderment and took a mouthful of her wine, “No…no, Mister Chalk, what I want is information. A simple transaction is all I seek. You tell me what I want to know and I will consider your debt paid.”

“What about my friend?” Chalk said anxiously.

“Ah yes.” The mare tapped a hoof against her chin, “The black stallion with the intriguing eyes…most unusual.” Pickles nodded thoughtfully before turning back to Chalk, “I shall have him make payment also, however I consider everypony on his or her own merits you understand.”

“Not really” Chalk replied honestly.

“No…I don’t suppose you would.” The sea green mare sat back and hid a small yawn behind her hoof before settling herself back into the chair, “Now then…” she began, “Lets have a little chat, you and I.”

************************

All too conscious of the time, every second felt like minutes, each minute an hour, an hour past when he was supposed to be meeting Gretel. Oh goddesses above, how long was this going to go on for?! He’d been warned about what to do when captured, about refusing to tell the enemy anything that may aid them and now, here he was spilling the beans on everything he knew to this fragrant, and rather beautiful, green mare. Chalk’s throat felt raw from all the talking and he motioned towards the wine carafe. Pickles nodded,

“Please do…” She rolled her shoulders, giving her hind legs a stretch, “Well now, I believe that will conclude our transaction.” The mare nodded towards the door, “Our other guest has arrived it seems.”

A fully groomed and spicily scented black stallion with a flowing blue mane and manicured hooves stood in the doorway. For a moment, Chalk wasn’t sure who this newcomer was until the stallion’s grey eyes fixed on his,

“Brack?! Bloody hell, what have they done to you?!”

Bracken stared at his hooves awkwardly, “I don’t want to talk about it…” he mumbled.

Pickles rose from her chair and walked across the deep pile carpet, taking in the slick form of the black stallion before her,

“Yes…” she murmured lifting his chin with her hoof, “Excellent…truly excellent.” The sea green mare trailed her hoof along Brackens neck and sides, round to his hind legs, tracing the muscles until she reached his cutie mark, “Most…intriguing” she said quietly, “Very…’earthy’.”

Pickle’s horn glowed and the door opened,

“I believe you had an appointment, Mister Dust?”

Chalk faltered, staring at Bracken and then back to the mare, “Miss Pickles, Ma’am, I can’t just leave my friend behind, those muggers…”

“-are probably long gone” Pickles lifted Brackens tail in her hooves, allowing the long strands of hair to run through them. She never looked up as she dismissed Chalk’s concerns, “You can leave your friend here. He will be in perfectly safe hooves, never fear.” She walked along Bracken’s side to his neck and inspected his scars, “A travesty to mar such perfection…” she murmured, “but not without its own charms.”

“Ma’am?” Chalk asked.

Madam Pickles clucked her tongue, turning to him, “Downstairs, you will find a big orange stallion by the front door called Fix. Tell him that he is to escort you back to the harbour where you can meet up with your precious Captain.” She all but pushed him out of the door, “Now…goodnight, Mister Dust!”

The door slammed shut with a loud bang, leaving the confused white unicorn standing in the middle of a corridor with no idea what to do next. Oh…that was right! He had to find this ‘Fix’ fellow, wasn’t it? He groaned and turned to walk away. Bracken would be alright, wouldn’t he? After all, what harm could that mare do? He paused a moment and shrugged; probably more than the poor fellow expected. And as for himself, was he…was he, jealous? Just because she was a snappy dresser, didn’t mean she was any better than the mare he…oh…Chalk gave his head a shake, not necessarily a good idea considering his current condition, but…what the hell had he been thinking? There was only one mare for him, and she was nearby, and no doubt waiting for him! He gave himself one last shake and headed downstairs looking for the orange stallion, ‘Fix’.

Fortunately, Fix was easy to spot. He was quite literally the ‘one stallion mountain’ in the establishment, his gargantuan form towering above everypony no doubt highly effective at putting off any misbehaviour before it started. The lobby area itself was a seething mass of pipe smoke, perfume and giggling mares draped over some very unlikely looking suitors; suitors ‘paying’ for the privilege no doubt. Chalk had never been in such a place in his life and had a sudden urge to leave this house of ill repute as quickly as equinely possible. Fortunately after a very short conversation, the monosyllabic grunts of ‘Fix’ indicated his basic understanding that the ‘white unicorn need to go to harbour’. Chalk quickly realised that Fix’s IQ level was somewhere near his shoe size.

Drawn along like a rowboat in the wake of a galleon, Chalk trotted behind the gargantuan figure of Fix out into the relatively clear night air. Of the cloaked ponies that had chased him and Bracken earlier however, there was no sign. Besides, if anypony was about looking for trouble tonight, taking on Fix with anything short of siege artillery was likely to end in a very quick, and very sticky, end. To Chalk’s surprise however, it transpired that Madam Pickles’ property wasn’t far from the harbour after all, and he mentally kicked himself for not realising it earlier. Still, at least they were safe, and Bracken was probably back there enjoying the company of a very attractive, if eccentric, mare; something he was looking forward to himself.

Trotting along the docks, Chalk turned to thank Fix, but the huge fellow was already heading off into the darkness, back to his mistress’s side. Fortunately the ship wasn’t hard to spot, and some thoughtful soul had gone around lighting the dockside lanterns which at least provided a level of lighting that was enough to stop you plummeting into the sea if nothing else. The King Sombra’s Revenge rocked gently at anchor, emanating a sense of smug self satisfaction when compared to the more mundane vessels that were berthed nearby. Chalk ran his hoof along the railing as he reached the top of the gangplank, nodding to the armed watchpony. He’d really have to get to know all of their names sooner or later. Still, they were all tied together somehow, all of them, perhaps even him. It was the ship, Chalk realised, she felt alive beneath his hooves, almost as if she were a living breathing creature. Her sails were her lungs, her captain her eyes, the wooden timbers her bones and skin. She was a part of the ponies aboard as much as they were of her…a family. He felt a shiver run through his body and all but leapt across the deck before reaching the Captain’s cabin door. He took a steadying breath and knocked.

“Come in”

Gretel was sat behind her table, poring over a map of the local area. A bottle of brandy and a sextant weighed down two of the corners, while a couple of ink wells secured the others. The red mare’s eyes were bloodshot and her mane bedraggled. This didn’t look at all like the Captain Chalk knew. He lifted a hoof in concern,

“Gretel? Are you…”

“-You’re late” She said commandingly, “I’d thought that you would have been a little more…’punctual’ this evening.”

A cold flood of worry ran down Chalk’s spine making his ears twitch. He hadn’t seen Gretel like this before, so, so…’Captainly’,

“I’m sorry, Gretel. Bracken and I got lost and then some characters tried to jump us and we…” he trailed off. Oh goddesses in their bloody heaven, she’d warned him hadn’t she? And he’d still ended up there, but…it couldn’t be helped, could it? How the hell was he supposed to know where he was?

“Yes?” Gretel peered up at him from under her brows as she leaned over the table, “What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”

Chalk cleared his throat, “No…Gretel, look, Bracken and I, we…”

The red mare sighed out a breath and took off her glasses, placing them carefully on the map. Slowly, she walked around the table and came right up to him until they were muzzle to muzzle. She sniffed him slowly, closing her eyes,

“You smell of that place.” She said quietly, “You…you smell of…her.”

Chalk didn’t know what to say. ‘Her’? Did she mean Madam Pickles? But, she’d saved them! Right then, all he had to do was tell the truth and everything would be alright. Mum had always said that honest was the best policy. He took a calming breath,

“Madam Pickles…”

Black hooves suddenly grabbed him and propelled him up against the wall. Gretel’s eyes burned like maroon signal fires, her voice low and brimming with barely restrained fury,

“I know!” She hissed, “I know, I know, I KNOW!” Gretel hung her head, tears beginning to trickle down her cheeks, “I trusted you! I waited here for hours, Chalky, HOURS! Do you have any idea what was going through my mind, do you? I hear from the crew that you were in a fight at the Full Moon and that the watch had to be called, and then you go missing. Now you come back stinking like a whore’s boudoir!” She backed away from him, shaking her head, “You were with her, weren’t you? That…that whore, Pickles!”

Chalk stammered, desperately trying to rescue the situation, “Yes! I mean, no! I mean, oh goddesses, Gretel, Pickles…”

“DON’T! Don’t you DARE lie to me, Chalky! I can smell her on you, it’s in your mane and your fur. I could smell that bitch on you when you walked in the door!” She sank to her haunches, tears filling her eyes, “I trusted you! I…I only asked one thing of you, just that one thing, and you…with her…”

Chalk’s chest felt like it was being squeezed, “Gretel! Please, it’s not like that, let me explain, please, I…”

“-get out”

“…Brack and I were…” Chalk paused, “What?”

“I said get out.” Gretel sniffed loudly, her body shaking with anger and emotion, “Get out, get out, GET OUT!”

Chalk’s mouth hung open in shock. She wouldn’t listen to him! What could he do? What could he say? He…

Hooves grabbed him suddenly and he was dragged from the cabin backwards into the open air on the deck. The last Chalk saw of his beloved Gretel was the look of absolute betrayal that she shot him before the door to her cabin slammed shut with such force the deck gave a sympathetic shudder. He looked up in shock at the large frame of Stock towering over him, shaking his head,

“Give her time to calm down.” The brown stallion rumbled, “She’ll be alright when she’s had some time to think”

Chalk pushed away from him roughly, “But…but she wouldn’t listen! I haven’t done anything!” He shook his mane angrily and stomped around in a circle lashing his tail, “That…that damned mare, what the hell was all that about!”

Stock shook his head, “If you can work them out,” he reasoned in his gravelly tone, “then you’d make a fortune” He turned away, “Come on, we can have a drink in my cabin.”

“No!” Chalk shouted, “Damn it, no! If she thinks I’m a wastrel and a stallion who goes whoring, then to hell with her! To hell with this bloody ship, the war, and every bucking thing else in this filthy sticking world!” He pulled his cloak around himself and headed for the gangplank, “If she wants to accuse me of doing something I haven’t done, then I’ll bloody well go and do something to feel guilty about!”

Before Stock could say anything else, Chalk leaped from the gangplank onto the dockside and charged off into the night.

*****************************

Chalk leaned against one of the large iron dockside bollards. The cold metal felt cool and soothing against his hide. He closed his eyes and wiped away a tear. That stupid mare! Why was she like that? Blasted, bloody, stupid…he sighed. What was the point? He loved her, but she didn’t trust him, she didn’t want to listen to him…why? He scratched his head in confusion. Were all mares like this? Celestia’s hairy arse, no wonder the world was so messed up…

Without warning a deafening noise like a gong sounding exploded in the back of Chalk’s skull, the damp dockside cobbles suddenly rammed into his muzzle. The world span around him horribly, making his stomach churn. Chalk couldn’t move. His eyesight, already poor in the darkness, refused to focus and his limbs felt like jelly beneath him. Voices, indistinct but close by, spoke in hushed tones,

“You bloody arse hole, you weren’t supposed to kill him!”

The second voice, heavy and dull sounding, replied with glacial slowness, “He ain’t dead, see. He’s breathin’”

“Only just…” the first complained, “Right then…hang on…” There was the faint sound of paper rustling. “Hell fire, it isn’t him!”

“He was wiv the other one though” the second one argued, “we chased ‘em”

“’You chased ‘em’” the first one mocked. His voice lowered, “You got the wrong one you cretin! The boss wants the black one! Goddess damn it all, what the hell are we going to do now?”

There was a long pause, then the second one spoke again,

“Wadda we do wiv this one?”

“Kill him” The first pony said, “He’s no use to us.”

Chalk felt the presence of a pony closing in on him, the stallion’s breath close to his ear. He could imagine the knife already, the feel of it against his throat as it began to bite in…

A third stallion’s voice called out from not far away, the tone full of urgency
“Regent! We’ve found him, shift your flank!”

The first pony’s voice sounded frantic, “Right! Come on!” Hooves rumbled away a few paces, then the voice came back again, “Maus, never mind that now, he’s half dead anyway. For the goddess’s sake just leave him for the watch will you, we’ve got to move! Come on!”

The clatter of hooves on cobbles died away into the distance, replaced with the empty chill of the lonely dockside. Chalk’s head screamed in pain, his body wracked with the shock of the damage that creature had done to him. Desperately, he tried to regain his senses, fighting against the dark walls that threatened to take him under. Those…those scum, those rats, they weren’t after him, they were after Brack…but why? He hissed in pain as he dragged a hoof under himself - it didn’t matter, did it? Bracken was his friend and he needed help. He was with that…that bloody creature who Gretel had some sort of…

Pain battered its way mercilessly through his head, making him throw up his guts onto the hard cobbles. Chalk’s stomach heaved, the gut wrenching muscle spasms making him break out in a sweat and begin to shake. Goddesses it was so cold! Every part of him screamed to just let go, to rest and simply sleep, but he knew, he knew that if he stayed here, he would never see his friend again. Trying his best to take a deep breath of the night air, the unicorn gritted his teeth and pushed. Immediately a wracking cough took him, threatening to send him to the ground, but he pushed on. Chalk’s muscles screamed and shook, weakness attempting to drown his will to move on, but still he tried. Deep down inside, beyond the magic, beyond his heart, there was a connection he held on to, one he had known since foalhood. It was something so special, so precious, that nothing else mattered right then…nothing other than helping his friend. Chalk let out a grunt and finally, with one last effort, pushed himself to his hooves. Standing upright, his body seemed to start re-asserting itself, sending signals like white hot alarm bells through his head. All of that would have to wait for later though, after he’d found Bracken.

Chapter Seventeen - Village Life

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

VILLAGE LIFE

Dray stretched his back and yawned expansively. Autumn would be passing into winter soon, the days already noticeably growing shorter. He liked this time of year though, there was something fascinating about the way the land felt as if it were getting ready to go to sleep, to renew itself. Dray snorted out a laugh; how he wished he could do the same himself! But, ‘life goes on’, he thought to himself philosophically. He wiped the sweat from his face and unhitched the plough before putting it back in the barn. Had it always been this heavy? He couldn’t remember it being so, but then he was definitely out of practice. Soldiering was a very different way of life to farming and, he thought to himself as the dull pain in his back made him wince, apparently used very different muscles too.

“You coming in for some breakfast, love?”

Honeysuckle’s voice carried over to him from the rear garden of the farmhouse, her feminine tones framed by the morning songs of the garden birds. Dray nodded and waved a hoof,

“Aye, I’ll be in, in a minute.”

Stretching his back, the Colonel walked over to the barrel of well water. In such an idyllic setting as his family’s farm, in some ways it felt to him as if the war had never really happened at all, or rather, that it wasn’t ‘happening’. It was even more peculiar to imagine that he had actually participated in something so pivotal that it could affect the very fabric of life in Equestria as a whole, and yet out here, in the country, there was no sign of war, no sign of…anything. By comparison to life in the towns and cities, country living was so different that to anypony unused to it, everything must appear to be at dragging along at a snails pace. Still, here, your work, your world even, was dictated by the seasons and nature herself, not timetables and orders of the day. Here, you could be one with the land, as an earth pony should be. Dray picked up a bucket, scooping up water from the barrel and dumped it over himself. The shock of cold made him shiver and gasp, but the feeling was one he’d always enjoyed after physical exertion; he felt…alive.

Dray trotted into the kitchen, rubbing a towel over his mane,

“Are the pests up yet?”

Honeysuckle rolled her eyes at her husband as she ladled out a bowl of steaming hot porridge,

“Not yet, they’re still wrapped up in bed.” She returned to the stove and brought over the kettle, “Tea?”

“Mmmfff” Dray nodded past a mouthful of toast and honey, “Fanks…”

“And you tell them off about talking with their mouths full!” Honeysuckle laughed, bopping Dray on the nose, “Anyway, you were going to pop over to see Lieutenant Cove and old Breezy today, weren’t you?”

Swallowing, the Colonel washed the toast down with a sip of his tea,

“Huh! ‘Old’ is right, she’s old enough to be his grandmother.”

“I didn’t realise there was an age limit on love,” Honeysuckle replied raising an eyebrow questioningly, “I see to remember folk asking that of somepony sitting not a million miles from here?”

Dray sighed, “A few years is not the same as…” he waved his hooves for emphasis, “decades. It’s not right, Honey, honestly.” He paused. Honeysuckle’s gaze seemed to strip him bare, exposing the stallion deep inside. His memories of the comment passing and snide remarks they’d endured all those years ago…they still hurt, even now. She was right of course, Fair Breeze and Cove didn’t deserve to have their relationship criticised by others, and least of all him. He was the one who’d buggered off to fight a war, leaving his wife and foals behind, nearly getting himself killed in the process, and then swanned back in as if nothing had happened. Had she criticised him? No…no, she’d welcomed him home in a way he could and would, never forget. He look up at her…ashamed.

“You’re right,” he mumbled, “that was wrong of me. I don’t know, Honey, I think with everything that’s happened I’m just ‘doubtful’ of the intentions of others.”

“’Suspicious’, would be a better word,” Honeysuckle smiled, rubbing his forehead with her hoof, “I know what you mean though, love. Young Cove is vulnerable and Breezy’s lonely, so they sort of gravitated towards one another. If they hit it off, then great, and I wish them all the best fortune in the world. If not, well, they are adults after all.”

Dray nodded, “You’re right there, Cove’s an officer despite what that horse’s cock Ochre did.” He went to pick up his tea, “Ow! Bloody hell, Honey!”

“Will you stop that swearing!” She hissed, putting down the large ladle, “Ever since you came back, you’ve been swearing like a trooper. There’s foals here, you know and I don’t want them learning words like that!”

Dray chuckled, “I only said he was a horse’s cock, I don’t see what…” holding up his hooves to fend off another impending attack by kitchens implements, the grey stallion ducked, laughing “Sorry! Sorry!”

Honeysuckle pushed him round on his chair and brushed her mane out of her eyes. Shaking her head slightly, she gave him a knowing grin, “You know” she said, her eyes sparkling, “I don’t know why I put up with you…”

The honey coloured mare climbed up into his lap, her tail brushing against Dray’s hind legs.

“Because you love me?” The Colonel asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh…maybe…” Honeysuckle purred, wrapping her forelegs around his neck, “Maybe because I love a stallion covered in sweet honey and toast crumbs…” She quickly licked a few errant remnants of her husband’s breakfast from his muzzle. Smiling, she gazed into his eyes, her voice a soft purr, “Maybe It’s because…it’s magic…”

Dray’s world melted into a honey soaked blissful haze of…

“OOOH! You’re kissing!”

The excited voice of Dawn Dew made them both jump.

“Ew! How can you do that! That’s horrible!” Polo’s horrified announcement echoed around the kitchen, “You look like you were eating each other!”

“Ha Ha! Maybe daddies REALLY hungry!”

“Oh, bollocks! I’m going to barf!”

“Polo! Don’t you dare use language like that in this house!” Honeysuckle span round, waving her ladle menacingly, “He’s picked it from…”

“-Gotta go, love! I’ll bring something nice back from market…” Drays voice called back as he accelerated away out the front door, down the garden path and up towards Hockspeth village. He couldn’t help but laugh out loud as he ran, his voice ringing out in the morning air. That cheeky little beggar! He was a chip off the old Dray block alright. He took a deep breath and broke into a full gallop,

“OH BOLLOCKS!”

Whooping happily, he felt as happy as he ever had in his entire life. Sod the army and bollocks to the war! Let Nightmare Moon win, who the hell cared anyway? Better off giving the whole of the ‘nobility’ a stick each and let them batter one another to death. That would leave the rest of Equestria to get on with the really important things in life, like farming, and snuggling with delicious honey soaked mares…

The village soon hove into view, the quaint arrangement of thatched cottages dominated by the one tavern in town, the Brewers Apron. He’d spent many a night in there when he was younger, in fact it was where he’d first seen Honeysuckle when she’d been working there part time to earn a few bits. He remembered the frilly looking outfit she’d worn then, the way her hair was tied back in plaits too. Dray grinned; exile wasn’t so bad, besides, if Nightmare Moon took charge, Ochre would probably be for the chop anyway. He smirked self indulgently, “And good riddance too” he muttered to himself out loud.

Fair Breeze’s home was a turn off just before you got into town if he remembered correctly. And, sure enough, there were the old tree’s just the same as they’d ever been and the neatly maintained lane that lead up to her open front door. Dray cautiously approached. Trusting ponies was one thing, but leaving your door wide open?

“Hello…?” Dray knocked on the door tentatively, “Anypony home?”

A slightly muffled thumping noise was coming from the back room. Straining his hearing he could hear stifled groaning too, like somepony was in pain…oh goddesses, this wasn’t happening, not here! Instinctively, Dray reached for his sword, but…

“Damn it…” he hissed, and looked about quickly for something, anything he could use. A stout staff leaning against the wall by the rain coats would do. Snatching it up, he moved forward keeping as quiet as possible. The groaning and banging sound was getting louder as he approached the back room. Whoever it was, it sounded like they were killing each other in there…he’d have to move quickly. Hefting the stick, Dray readied himself, calming his heart. If he startled them, he’d have a chance. Taking a deep breath, he bucked open the door and charged in…

The staff clattered to the floor.

“Wh…What? Oh my…oh my goddesses!” Dray took a step back at the two pairs of eyes staring back at him, “At this time of the morning too! Oh…I…”

Cove stepped back, looking away in embarrassment as Fair Breeze climbed down from the table,

“Oh, grow up, you big foal” she admonished, adjusting he pinny, “It’s my house and I can do what I like. I suppose you forgot how to knock, did you?”

“I did, for your information” Dray snapped back, “Apparently you didn’t hear me.”

“Hmph” She snorted, “’Apparently’ not.”

“Celestia’s arse, Fair,” Dray said defensively, “I thought you were being murdered!”

“Did it look like I was being murdered?” She snapped back angrily.

“Well, he had his hooves…I mean…that is…”

Fair Breeze rolled her eyes, “Oh, shut up! For the goddesses sake…” she stomped out of the room, “STALLIONS!”

Cove, his face bright red, cleared his throat,

“Er…Good morning Colonel Dray.”

“Yes, um…Good morning, Lieutenant Cove.” Dray scratched him mane, “You seem to be fitting in…’well’.”

“And he would have been a lot more so if you hadn’t barged in!” A voice called from the kitchen, “Why don’t you two bugger off into town and let me get some cleaning done?” The mare’s face reappeared in the doorway, “Covey…come here a minute…”

Obediently, the young Lieutenant half disappeared into the kitchen, only his hind quarters and furiously swishing tail remaining visible until he re-appeared a few seconds later, his cheeks even redder than before.

“There’s a pouch of bits in the drawer, love.” Fair Breeze said in a sultry voice, “Help yourself.”

Cove took a hoofful of the coins and popped them into his saddlepack before trotting to the door past his older friend. Dray bobbed his head to Fair Breeze who stuck her tongue out at him in response. Oooh! That mare! Shaking his mane irritably, Dray followed the young stallion out the door and closed it behind him with a sigh of relief. Goddesses, that image would be burned into his mind for the rest of his life! And…and those noises! Oh, Celestia! Maybe he’d ask Honey if she could perform some memory spell on him later…

Fortunately, the fresh morning outside and the prospect of meeting old friends quickly dispelled the more vivid imagery running wild through Dray’s mind, that, and the company of another stallion. He had to admit, that whatever spell Fair Breeze had cast upon him, metaphorically speaking of course, it had done its job well. The young fellow was positively glowing, although not necessarily for the right reasons. Cove, divested of his cloak, packs, weaponry and armour looked like just any pony you’d meet down the street. His cutie mark, sleek black mane, tail and blue eyes were quite striking features and no doubt, their impact hadn’t been lost on the frisky old mare.

They trotted along at a leisurely pace, the sun climbing into the sky promised a beautiful day ahead and Dray felt the leisurely calm of life in Hockspeth seeping through his bones. He smiled to himself happily. Perhaps Cove may be a little more conversational now than he had been? He decided to give it try.

“You seem to be settling in with Fair pretty well, Lieutenant.” Dray said pleasantly.

“Yes, Sir.” Cove replied quietly.

Well…it was a start…

“So”, Dray tried again, “Is she looking after you well?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Good goddess almighty! Was the rest of the day going to be like this?! He took a breath and forced a smile,

“Honeysuckle wants you and Fair Breeze to come over for tea.” He held up a hoof as Lieutenant Cove opened his mouth, “And you’d better say something other than what I think you’re going to say, or else I’ll tell Honeysuckle about what I saw today. Clear?”

Cove’s ears turned bright red, “Yes, Si…I mean,” he cleared his throat noisily, “I’d be delighted to accept Colonel. I’ll ask Fair when we get back if you like.”

“I do like” Dray said with a sigh of relief, “Anyway, as I said, you two seem to be hitting it off surprisingly well for a couple who’ve just met.”

The young stallion smiled, his eyes taking on a distant cast, “She’s wonderful” he murmured dreamily. Cove stared up into the sky with a wistful look upon his face, “She so beautiful…”

“Uh-huh…” Dray shook his head. There were many ways he’d describe Fair Breeze, but ‘beautiful’ was not one of them. Anyway, it was Cove’s concern, not his, and besides, at least the young fellow had a roof over his head and not crashing out in his barn. “Have you been into town yet?” he asked.

“Not yet, Fair say’s she wants some things from the market though.” Cove fished about in his pannier, “I have a list of groceries we need. She said to take them to your house.”

“Oh…good…” Dray tried to smile, but instead he just rolled his eyes. Domesticated already, the poor sod. Mind you, he had no room to talk. It appeared the two mares had already planned today well ahead time too, and his plans had been altered to include a fun filled shopping expedition. Where did they find the time to do that?! A thought suddenly came to him, “Did she say anything about all those ponies at the dock? I asked Honey, but she didn’t know anything about it.”

Cove nodded, “Most were refugees from the north apparently, fleeing from the Legion. Others were from Heifer’s Leap who’d been panicked by the stories they’d been hearing.”

“Stories?” Dray asked, intrigued, “Such as?”

Cove’s gaze hardened, “Ponies being killed for food. Thestrals are carnivores after all, and they employ dragons as well.” He closed his eyes a moment, “It doesn’t seem that far fetched when you think about it.”

“Really?” Dray shrugged, “I wouldn’t believe everything you hear. Griffins are carnivorous, and so are many creatures in Equestria. It doesn’t mean we’ve suddenly become a menu item. When was the last time you heard about a dragon eating a pony?”

“It does happen.”

“I know, but it’s rare” Dray reasoned, “And even then it’s nearly always a dragon who’s old, sickly or just plain mad. They usually end up being put down by the matriarch in the end.”

Cove raised an eyebrow, “I hope you’re right, Colonel, they could end up coming through here sooner or later.”

“Maybe” The Colonel said quietly, “But if they do, don’t show any aggression towards them and they’ll more than likely leave you alone.”

The Lieutenant stopped suddenly and faced him, “I never thought I’d hear you say that! Submission? To the Legion?”

Dray nodded, “Not submission, Cove, just common sense. I have a family here and I’m too bloody old for this sort of nonsense. Look where it got me: nearly killed and ultimately banished. If the Legion come through here, then what good do you think panicking and running away is going to do? And have you thought about what would happen if I attacked them? They’d kill me, and goddess knows what would happen to my family then.” He jabbed a hoof at the young stallion, “And you need to consider somepony else as well now, don’t you?”

Cove looked stricken, his ears flopping, “I…” he stammered, “yes…yes, I suppose I do.”

“Good!” Dray clopped his hooves together, “Now come on, let’s grab a pint down the Brewers Apron. They used to do a damned good wheat beer when I was there last. Maybe they still do.”

The Lieutenant smiled, “You’re on! Let’s see if you can out rank me in ale.”

“Oh, I think I’ll manage.” Dray laughed, “You may be younger, you may be faster, but there’s one thing I am that you’re not.”

Cove wrinkled his brow, “What? Experienced?”

“Nope…” Dray chuckled, tapping him with a hoof, “I’m sneaky.”

Laughing, the two trotted into the village and towards the green. Nothing had changed; not the trees, the houses, nor even the ponies. Dray shook his head in amazement at the scene around him. It was as if he’d travelled back in time to those days before the war broke out, back when he was a new father and had the sort of idyllic lifestyle that at the time, he hadn’t truly appreciated. He grinned; he did now.

Ponies walking past the two friends, or sat chatting on the grass, paid them little heed. The odd one who looked up would screw their face up as if trying to place them, but then Hockspeth had always had that sort of ‘not my problem’ attitude which may have appeared at odds to what ponies normally expected of village life. Still, it had served them fairly well over the years. That wasn’t to say the inhabitants wouldn’t rally round each other if somepony needed help; the fire at Brindle’s farm some years ago had shown that, and it certainly didn’t stop the incessant gossip either. It was more a case of leaving ponies their personal space, and leaving others in peace. Whether Fair Breeze fell into that category was a different matter. The more Dray thought about it, the more nuanced and complex the undercurrents of village life appeared.

The village tavern itself was a quaint affair. Its white washed walls, thick dark oak framework and dense thatch made it look like a winter festival cake decoration. Compared to some of the places the Colonel had been into, the Brewers Apron looked ridiculously small and more akin to somepony’s home than an actual ale house. The inside however, did give the impression of being slightly larger than outside, but only marginally. There were two open log fires, one at each end of the long open room. The bar sat fairly central, allowing staff to serve a goodly number of patrons at once, and it certainly did too. Dray remembered many a time, especially after harvest, when the landlord had employed anypony he could get his hooves on to help out with serving due to the flood of thirsty farm workers. Many, like himself, had simply ended up sitting outside on the green enjoying the wonderfully earthy beers they sold here. Today however, the bar was quiet. Mostly the customers were older ponies, taking advantage of the warmth from the fireplaces and passing the time of day with a pint or two. The landlord was busily engaged wiping out a beer mug when he spotted Dray and Cove,

“Good morning, gentlecolts. What can I get you?”

Dray smiled, “What’s on?”

The landlord waved a hoof towards the barrels behind him, “Well, we’ve got ‘Millers Old Fart’, always a popular one that, ‘Knackers Cart’, a nice peaty ale, ‘Trout Handlers Fancy’, which is quite a dark ale.” He peered at the last barrel, “and ‘Velvet Cream’. Hmm, not sure about that one, I haven’t tried it yet.”

An old brown stallion sat further along the bar called over, “I’d try the Trout Handlers, it’s good.”

Nodding his thanks, Dray turned to Cove, “That alright with you?”

The Lieutenant nodded, “Sound good”

Dray fished out some bits from his money pouch, “I’ll have two the Trout Handler’s then please, Landlord.”

Wiping his hooves on his apron, the big biscuit coloured Landlord leaned under the counter and produced a couple of beer mugs which he began to fill with the frothy brew. Dray squeezed his eyes shut against the horrendous temptation to ask Cove if he would have liked ‘something else’ instead, like a pint of ‘Old Fart’, for example…Oh goddesses! He probably would have bucked into next week, but…damn it, it would have been so worth it!

“That’ll be four bits, please”

Dray went to pay, but Cove beat him to it, “I’ll get these, Colonel.”

The Landlord stopped in his tracks and looked up, “Colonel…?” He peered into Dray’s eyes, the light of recognition dawning, “As I live and breath! It is you! I can’t believe you’re back!”

“Who’s back?” The old stallion sat on the bar stool shouted along the bar, looking at the two stallions with an intensity born of poor eyesight.

“I said its Herald’s boy,” The Landlord shouted in a deafening voice, “young Dray from the farm over the bridge. You remember?”

The old stallion jumped down from his stool and hobbled over. His faded blue eyes stared up at the Colonel making him feel distinctly uncomfortable under their inquisitive gaze. The old fellow scratched his chin as he thought out loud,

“Hmm, could be. He’s a big one alright.” He gave a cackling laugh, “Wouldn’t want to bump into you on a dark night!”

Dray laughed nervously.

The Landlord leaned on the bar addressing him, “What’s this about you being a Colonel? That’s a high rank, isn’t it? I’d have thought you’d be off with your family living in some big mansion somewhere.”

“No” Dray shook his head with a wry grin, “Not for me. I’m a country colt at heart and this is where I belong. Soldiering’s behind me now, I’m very pleased to say.”

The old brown stallion took a pull on his ale, giving his hind leg a scratch, “Soldiering’s not a profession for anypony, young ‘un.” He looked away sadly, a distant look in his eyes, “My boy went off to the borderlands many years ago, when he was just…” he trailed off then slammed his mug down on the bar noisily, “Same again, Landlord!”

Dray’s ear twitched, his interest piqued, “Sir, my apologies, but…I was stationed on the border for a time. What was your son’s name?”

The old fellow took a deep breath and looked away, “His name? It was so long ago now…” He chuckled, “How could I forget the name of my own son?” The Landlord passed him his beer and he took a mouthful, “His name was Creel, a short blue stallion with a cream mane and tail.” He smiled, “He had the most wonderful eyes too, like melted chocolate, the same as his mothers.” The brown stallion let out a long sigh, “His cutie mark was like his name, a wicker creel.”

Dray felt a flood of guilt run through him at making the old timer recall such memories. He tried to picture his son; a blue stallion, short with…oh…oh, goddesses…

“I’m sorry sir, I don’t remember him.” Dray said shaking his head, “He may have been before my time.”

“Well, I’m not surprised!” The old stallion snorted, “Even I was young then!”

“Well, I for one am glad to see you home, Master Dray.” The Landlord smiled, “Please, have one on the house, and your friend too. Master…?”

“Oh, er, the names Palm Cove, but Cove will do.”

“Cove…” the brown stallion muttered, “I’ve heard somepony mention that name recently…”

Oh, hell! The last thing he needed now was a discussion about a certain local widow and a young white stallion. Dray finished his pint quickly and banged the empty back on the bar, “So!” he announced boldly, “What’s been happening in Hockspeth since I’ve been off battling the forces of darkness?”

The old fellow’s eyes glistened as he settled himself beside the fire, “Well now, how much time have you got to spend?”

“As long you like, sir” Dray smiled, climbing into one of the large chairs and placing down his ale, “As long as you like.”

Time wasn’t pressing today, most of the farm work was finished and what wasn’t could wait until tomorrow. Here, nopony was screaming at you to get things done by a certain time or hauling you up on charges for being late for a patrol because you’d been so exhausted from the last one you’d overslept. No, here in the country, life rumbled along with all the urgency of a waterwheel: steady, rhythmic, doing what it had to do in the fullness of time.

The Colonel, not normally a tremendously sociable pony, unexpectedly found himself enjoying chatting with the old timer. Mostly, he rambled on about himself, his late wife and son, along with the ‘mess the world was in’. Dray smiled to himself. His father used to constantly complain about how Equestria had ‘gone to hell in a hoofbasket’, and how it had become completely unrecognisable from when he was a foal. To Dray, it all looked the same as it ever had. It seemed to him that the older one became, the more you found yourself yearning for what you perceived as ‘better days’. Whether they actually had been better was a topic for further debate; nopony liked too much change. Listening to the elderly stallion talking about how life had been in Equestria before Nightmare Moon had appeared though, for once, he found he couldn’t disagree. Equestria really had been better.

“…of course it was all about food back then. Many of our old songs were about simple necessities, like good hay, clean water and being able to sleep soundly at night without some blasted brigand slitting your throat.”

Dray listened intently. Ramble he may do at times, but sometimes, hidden within the mass of memory this pony held, little grains of wisdom would fall like grain from a griddle. He mentally noted all the pieces, gradually formulating plans, tactics…yes…yes! That could work! It would take a lot of planning and co-ordination, but…

“Colonel?”

Dray looked up into the blue eyes of the Lieutenant, “Hmm?”

“Sir, pardon me, but I believe we had arrangements to attend your home for tea?”

“We did?” Dray mentally brought himself back from his calculations. What the hell was he thinking? He wasn’t an officer anymore, he wasn’t even in the bloody army or allowed to step hoof out of Hockspeth. He gave himself a strong shake and looked up at the clock over the mantelpiece, “Damn it…”, he muttered.

Dray shook hooves with the Landlord and the old stallion before gulping down the last of his beer,

“Come on Lieutenant, we’d better get a move on.”

“Bloody hell, the shopping!” Cove pulled out the list from his pouch, his tone of voice rising, “Celestia’s buttocks we’re going to miss the damned shops!”

“Bugger it all! Right then…” Dray checked the list, inspecting each element, checking times and planning…always planning. “Listen in. Here’s what we’ll do…”

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon as the two soldiers hauled the cart along the road, Dray pulling and Cove pushing. They were making good progress too considering the sheer weight of the groceries they’d bought.

“Don’t you think they’ll notice their carts gone?” The young stallion shouted, “I think the baker had just left it there for a minute.”

“Don’t sweat the details, Lieutenant”, Dray called back, “I’ll take it back in the morning.”

“You don’t think he’ll need that bag of flour?”

“I’m sure he’s got plenty more!” The Colonel theorised, “Besides, if it’s a toss up between Honey skinning me alive and dealing with a pissed of baker, there’s not much contest!”

A few moments later, the cart came to a halt. Dray caught his breath, wiping the sweat away,

“Right then, you go and fetch Fare. I’ll head off now and for the goddesses sake, be quick!”

Cove saluted out of habit “Yes, sir.”

In a flurry of hooves and kicked up dust, Cove galloped for the front door leaving the Colonel to continue on to his home. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too long. Honey may be a country girl, but by the goddesses, when she had a plan in her head, you stuck to it if you knew what was good for you. He was already in trouble for being late for the groceries…but, if he brought reinforcements, in the form of Fare Breeze turning up earlier than expected to ‘help’ in the kitchen, then he’d probably avoid the worst of her wrath. Maybe a ladle or two across the old noggin, but he could live with that.

Dray’s heart was soon hammering in his chest, his breathing becoming laboured as he hauled the cart back to the farm. Bloody hell, how much had they bought again?! There were only, what…three adults and two foals? There was enough here to feel an entire battalion! Mercifully, the small bridge over the stream soon came into view and for a tense moment, Dray wondered whether the old structure would take the weight of the cart. The bloody things axles were already groaning under the weight of the food in the back, but it should be fine if he took it easy. It was. Despite a few groans and creaks, the bridge survived and more importantly, the shopping. Dray pressed on. His nose twitched as he caught a whiff of wood smoke and finally, like a gift from the goddesses, the farmhouse with the gate hanging open…again! He paused and frowned guiltily…aye, it was probably him from when he took off earlier. Shrugging it off, he dropped down the slight slope and round to the workshed.

“Only a few things…” he muttered, giving himself a quick wipe off with the cool water in the barrel. The worst part of all though was that the journey back was only half the job, the best part was shifting it all into the pantry and that was going to need more than one set of hooves. Little Miss Magical in there could bloody well shift her arse out here and help too!

Dray shook himself off and trotted to the back door. That was wide open too! Good grief, no wonder the place felt like an ice box sometimes,

“Honey? Come and give me a hoof with this lot will you? It weighs a tonne.”

Silence.

“Bloody typical!” he groused.

Well, it looked she’d gone out after all and taken the foals for a walk; either that or to one of the neighbouring farms for a chat. He sighed, shaking his head in submission. Fine! He’d shift the whole bloody lot himself then! Walking sullenly through the back of the house, something dripped on his face. It was cold. Dray lifted his hoof to his muzzle and wiped it off, was there a leak? He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth; it was just one more job for him to do later…but…wasn’t the upstairs bedroom above this part of the house? He’d finished the extension to the property just before Polo was…

Dray looked down at his hoof, the wet patch he wiped off was stuck to his fur now and in the dim light of the kitchen, it was hard to see it properly.

There was sudden loud bang from upstairs, a gust of cold wind blasting through the house, the open doors creating a wind tunnel effect and throwing loose papers and Honeysuckle’s potpourri across the floor. Dray stopped dead in his tracks, listening, straining to hear something…anything. The only thing he could hear though was the ticking of the old clock, the back door creaking in the wind and the soft pat…pat…pat of the liquid dripping through the ceiling onto the tiled floor.

Clearing his mind, Dray took down his old sword from the wall and gripped the hilt in his mouth. He couldn’t over think this, he daren’t; it was probably nothing, just the wind blowing through the carelessly left open window and doors. Winter would be coming soon, and with it the first snows, he could feel it against his fur even now.

Slowly, he climbed the stairs one by one, trying to keep his senses as keen as possible and alert to any movement, any sound. The house creaked in the wind, the bedroom door ahead of him was closed, but the gusts through the doubtlessly open window were making it rattle alarmingly. Probably Polo again! He was always messing about. One day he’d even caught the little beggar trying to ‘fly’ off the roof! He’d soon put a stop to that nonsense. Dray reached out and gripped the door handle. With a brief push, it began to open.

Chapter Nineteen - Silence

CHAPTER NINETEEN

SILENCE

Cove trotted up the garden path, Fair Breeze beside him muttering to herself and fussing with her hair. She was proud of her mane, and rightly so, a pony should take care of their appearance. In fact, the orange unicorn mare had insisted on him taking a bath when he first appeared on her doorstep that evening. It was such a large one too, with wonderful herbal scents and the life giving heat…the way it soaked the weariness from his bones… He smiled at the memory of how she’d boldly slid in beside him to ‘better wash his coat’ as she put it.

“Ah, hog farts!”

The Lieutenant rolled his eyes,

“What’s up, love?”

Fair was fussing with her pannier now,

“I think I left my purse in the house! Do you remember what I did with it? Bloody thing, I could have sworn I…”

Cove lay a hoof on the orange mare’s shoulder and gave her a nuzzle,

“Fair, don’t worry, we’ll find it later when we get home. I’ll look for it with you, okay love?”

“Mmm” she muttered, “Fine, but make sure you do, that was young a gift from my grandfoal and I don’t want to lose it.”

Chuckling, Cove trotted up the path towards the farm house front door and stopped dead in his tracks. The door being ajar wasn’t that unusual, but there was immediately a sense of ‘wrongness’ about it, a feeling of trepidation emanating from the hallway beyond. Cove’s hackles went up as he listened for any sound that might indicate what was happening, his ears swivelling, trying to pick up any movement. Damn it, he hadn’t brought his bloody sword either…

“…and those apples were a bloody rip off! I’m going to have words with…Oof!” Fair Breeze bumped into Cove’s rump making her jump in surprise, “What the heck did you stop for? I…”

Cove put a hoof up to her mouth, his blue eyes conveying his meaning more than words ever could. Fair immediately fell silent, moving behind him out of the way. For a moment, he wondered about sending her home, but if something was here, if it went after her, she’d be alone. Better she were with him, here he could protect her. First though, he had to find a weapon. A quick scout revealed a sickle by the side of the door and a slightly rusted, but heavy bladed knife used for thatching. He passed the sickle to Fair who stared at it with wide eyes. For a moment he thought she was going to argue with him, but instead, she merely took the makeshift weapon and nodded to him. He risked a quick peck on her nose before pushing open the front door.

Inside, it was bitterly cold. The wind had blown pictures askew and loose items including paper and other odds and ends were scattered throughout the house. Lieutenant Cove kept to the rug, avoiding the bare wooden parts of the floor. Keeping noise to a minimum would help them surprise anything, or anypony, that was…what? This was his friend’s house wasn’t it? But…where was he? There was no sign of him, no sign of anypony for that matter.

Cove checked the rest of the downstairs, leaving the doors open in case they had to get out of there fast. Now, there was only the upstairs to check. He didn’t like it, the possibility of being trapped up here in an unfamiliar house made him feel uncomfortable to the extreme, and having Fair with him was making him second guess his decision to bring her with him. Taking a steadying breath, he approached the master bedroom and froze.

“Covey…” Fair whispered behind him.

“Stay here, Fair.” The Lieutenant said quietly, “For the goddesses’ sake, don’t go in.”

She stared up at him, her eyes wide, “Why…?”

The white stallion looked back at her and shook his head. Fair’s eyes seemed to glaze over, her face taking on a look of such intense sadness that he felt a wave of guilt for making her feel this way. But there would be time to comfort her later…much later. Cove pushed the door open enough to let himself in and quietly walked over to the foot of the bed.

Colonel Dray was sat on his haunches, reaching across the covers and stroking the mane of his little foal, Polo. Beside the tiny figure lay his sister, Dawn Dew, her eyes closed, and curled up as if sound asleep inside the warm bed covers.

Dray’s voice was hollow, frighteningly distant, as though he were speaking from another world,

“I wasn’t here…” he murmured, “I wasn’t here…” Tears rolled down his scarred cheeks, dropping onto the embroidered bed spread while he leaned forward and kissed his foals goodnight, “Sleep well little ones…” he whispered, “May the herd protect you, forever.” He stood and nuzzled them tenderly one by one before he walked around to the other side of the bed and tucked in the still form of his beloved wife.

Cove could only watch; his heart felt as if it had stopped, his blood frozen in his veins. He wanted to comfort his friend, to ask what had happened, to be told what he could do to help, to somehow put this right…but what, what could he do? He felt like a ghoul, silently witnessing the end of somepony’s life and coldly standing by, doing nothing more than impassively observing them as the life went out in their eyes.

The large grey stallion took a brush and began running it through the mane of the mare in the bed. Each stroke, each pass, conveying the love the old soldier held in his heart for the one he’d loved more than anything else in this world. Dray placed the brush down on the bedside table and nuzzled Honeysuckle, murmuring something to her which Cove couldn’t hear. He didn’t want to, it was a private moment between a husband and wife, the final parting of the ways…to say farewell. His friends eyes were squeezed shut against unimaginable suffering, the sheer torment he was experiencing beyond anything he could imagine. Cove bowed his head and said a silent prayer for the departed souls of the three he’d only recently met, the family of his friend. Movement made him look up.

Drays eyes looked into his and he felt his heart skip a beat. He’d never seen eyes like those before, they were…cold…dead. Dear Celestia…how could this happen…

“Lieutenant.” Dray said quietly, “Go home.”

“Sir” Cove shook his head, “No. With respect Colonel, no.”

Dray stared at him a moment and then pushed past him onto the landing,

“Do as you please.”

“Dray?” Fair had to dodge out of the way as the Colonel walked past her and headed downstairs. She watched him go, her eyes wide in shock, “Covey? Are…are they?”

The Lieutenant lifted a hoof and placed it on the door of the bedroom. Closing it felt like closing a book once the final page had been read. He hung his head and nodded silently.

“Dear sweet goddesses” Fair whispered, “How?”

In answer, Cove rushed down the stairs after Dray, finding him in a back room opening a large wooden door into what looked like a study. It was full of books, hundreds of them, piled floor to ceiling. Large paintings and maps adorned the walls as well as a large variety of swords, polearms and the assorted gear of a soldier’s trade. Dray was like a pony in a trance. He picked up a selection of equipment, stowing gear into panniers, taking down various swords, daggers and spears until he had just what he wanted. Lieutenant Cove stared in amazement. It was all so surreal, as if it were some strange dream that he could simply wake up from at any moment, and yet, he was here, Dray was here. He gave himself a shake,

“Colonel, what are you doing?”

Dray said nothing, walking out of the room into the kitchen where he began packing bags with food and filling water bottles. Cove stepped in front of the Colonel,

“For Celestia’s sake, Colonel! Speak to me!”

Yellow eyes, devoid of any form of compassion or empathy, bore into Cove’s. For a tense moment, he stood rigid, staring into his eyes before he spoke. Dear goddesses, even his voice…

“Lieutenant, my final order to you is this: Take Fair and go home. Live your life with her, and never leave her side. Cherish what you have.”

“You want me to what?” Cove blinked in astonishment, “No! Bloody hell, Colonel…”

Dray shook his head slowly and then walked out the back of the house towards the barn. Cove and Fair hurried out after him,

“Colonel! Please, what are you going to do? Where are you going?”

The grey stallion took down a large sheath of straw,

“Where am I going Lieutenant? I’ll tell you.” He turned to face the young white stallion, “I’m going to find the ponies who did this to my family…and I am going to kill them.” He took a breath, “I will kill them, but before I do, I will kill their families, their foals, and I will make them watch so I can see the light of hope die within them before I send them to the underworld.”

Cove’s voice rose in alarm, “Colonel, for the goddesses sake, you’re not thinking this through! This isn’t like you!”

Dray span round and grabbed the Lieutenant, ramming him up against the wall. The sheer strength in the earth pony was incredible; years of hard life had made him into a powerful machine of muscle and sinew. The scarred face drew close to the young stallions,

“You…don’t…know…me.” He hissed, “I will find them, I will kill them, and I will send their souls screaming to the next world. If it damns me to Tartarus then I will enter its gates willingly, and I will take anypony with me who tries to stand in my way.”

Dray released the Lieutenant and stepped back, collecting his gear. Cove desperately lifted a hoof,

“Dray, how do you know who did this?” he asked anxiously, “Why? It could have been thestrals or one of their…”

“I know who it was…” Dray jabbed his hoof at Cove, nodding, “I know…” He turned to Fair Breeze, “Breezy, take him back to your place, and I don’t care what you have to do to him,” He cinched the girth strap around his midriff before collecting a bundle of straw, “but don’t let him go off to fight. Promise me.”

The orange mare glanced nervously at Cove, “Dray, I…”

“Promise me!” The Colonel snapped.

“I…I promise!”

Dray nodded to himself, “Good…” he turned away from his friends, “good.”

Fair Breeze looked distraught and kept glancing back at the house. Gently, Cove gave her neck a nuzzle, “Love? Go and wait for me by the gate, please. I want to speak to Dray before…before he leaves.”

She nodded, giving the Lieutenant a nervous glance before she trotted up to the gate where she sat staring up at the house. Cove hung his head a moment, the emotional impact of it all pulling at his heart in a way he’d never experienced before. His friend, the one who had, in his own way, opened the door for him to a new life, a happy life, with Fair Breeze…was leaving. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let it end like this.

“Colonel Dray, if you will sir, I’d like to speak with you before you leave.”

Letting out a sigh, Dray stopped what he was doing and furrowed his brow, “Very well, Lieutenant, what do you want to say.”

The white stallion took a deep breath, “I know you made Fair Breeze promise, but…”

“-you’re not coming with me, Lieutenant and that is final.” There was no room of argument in Drays tone of voice. He meant every word.

Cove nodded, “I know. I knew you’d say that, I just hoped…” he gave his mane a shake, gathering his thoughts, “Colonel, how do you know these weren’t Nightmare Moon’s forces? You are, forgive me, ‘were’ a high ranking officer in Celestia’s armed forces. Could they not have been after you all along?”

The big grey stallion reached into his pannier and pulled out a stained piece of paper. He passed it to Cove who lifted it up to the light. There was only one word,

THIEF

The letters were written in a strange brown/red ink, like…

“Blood” Cove murmured. He tried not to think who’s blood it was, “What does that mean though? ‘Thief’? It makes no sense!”

Dray waved his hoof, “Maybe if you turned it over.”

Flicking it to the other side, Cove noticed the small red seal, the letters E.R.G embossed into the wax. They were the initials of the Equestrian Royal Guard, the same guard that Dray had ‘arranged’ to back up their forces during the near disastrous campaign at River Valley. Lord Ochre had deliberately kept those troops and his own personal guard, safe at the castle for his own protection. Dray had had other plans. Cove stared at the paper in disbelief, he simply couldn’t believe that this, all of this had been…he closed his eyes, trying to will away the images. The happy smiling faces of his friend’s family, of Honeysuckle, Polo, Dawn Dew, all of them…

Dray snorted, “Now do you see?”

“But Dray, why? Why would Ochre do this? He’d already exiled you, what would...” Cove swallowed, trying to say the words, “murdering your family accomplish?”

“I intend to ask him” the Colonel replied calmly, “eventually.”

Cove reached out a hoof and grabbed him suddenly, “No! Colonel Dray, you made Fair promise to keep me from fighting and she will honour that, as I will. For you though, for Honeysuckle and the foals, I want you to promise me something in return.”

Dray’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded, waiting for Cove to continue.

“If you must kill Ochre, then fine, do it. But Dray, I’m asking you as your friend; please, don’t turn into the monster he has become. Don’t take the lives of others simply to cause him to suffer as you are.”

Seconds passed as Cove stood staring out across the fields, the wind catching his mane and tail as it whispered around the inside of the barn. His voice came as if from far away, so devoid of hope it made Cove’s voice cry out in sympathy,

“Very well, Lieutenant.” He returned to the piles of straw, “Now go, you have somepony waiting for you.” Under his breath, the Colonel words were little more than a whisper, “…Never forget that.”

Cove trotted to the barn door, turning back one last time and saluted,

“Goodbye my friend, may fortune favour you.”

*********************************

Fair Breeze shook with the wracking sobs that hadn’t stopped since they’d left that terrible place. Her eyes were red and swollen, her fur and mane matted with sweat and tears. She snuggled into her white coated stallion for comfort, his warmth and the sound of his beating heart, the only thing that she felt she could cling on to. It was too much, it all felt so unreal, how could they be just…gone? And she was so frightened! Why did they do such an evil thing? How could they? Weren’t they supposed to be fighting a war against the forces of darkness? If so, then how could their own people do something like this? Cove had barely said two words since they’d got home, his near silence an indication of the pain he felt inside. She pushed her muzzle into his neck,

“Love?”

Cove reached over and stroked her mane, “Mmm?”

“Could you light the lanterns? I…I don’t want to sleep in the dark tonight. Please?”

He kissed her tenderly on the forehead,

“Of course.”

The bed creaked as he rolled off and walked over to the drawer where the matches were kept. The oil lanterns seemed a bit of a peculiarity in a house with a unicorn; after all, they had magic didn’t they? But then, Fair was a bit of a traditionalist and oil lamps had a particular magic about them all their own. He pressed down on the lever, lifting the glass globe. The wick holder squeaked slightly as he raised it and took a match out of the box. He went to strike it. Why he looked out of the window right at that moment, he could never say. But there, in the distance, he caught the faint glow of yellow flame. As he watched, sparks began to rise into the night sky, the fire rapidly taking hold. He closed his eyes and hung his head.

“Is everything alright?” Fair asked anxiously.

“Yes love,” Cove pulled the curtains shut before lighting the lamp and adjusting the wick, “It’s nothing.”

**********************

Dray sat watching the flames licking up the side of his home, the timbers cracking and splintering as the fire quickly spread. Yellow and orange light reflected in the windows before they burst outward with a loud crash, sending shards of glass into the garden below. The house would be gone soon, the memories of the love he’d shared with his wife, the sounds of their foals playing, they would only live on now inside him. And living…living was something that didn’t seem so appealing any more.

Radiated heat from the fire singed his fur as he watched his life burning down, gradually turning into ashes. He owed it to them to stay and watch, to witness their passing to the herd. Of course, he knew they’d already gone; they’d be there now with their uncles, aunts, grandparents and even their parents. What was important was that they were safe, and nothing else in this cruel and unforgiving cess pit of a world could hurt them. Dray stared up at the sky and took a shuddering breath. He wanted to be with them, he wanted to go…home. He closed his eyes, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Revenge…he snorted, what was the point? There were plenty of ponies out there who could have rid Equestria of that murdering filth Ochre, he had the blood of more ponies on his hooves than he could ever possibly imagine. Besides, what would killing him actually achieve? There was always another parasite waiting to leap on the dogs back and suck its blood. Dray took a breath and carefully drew his sword. It was an old one, his fathers. The edge was a little dull perhaps but it would do the job well enough. Father wouldn’t be pleased of course, but he’d just have to deal with it.

Dray chuckled to himself, an odd sound at such a sombre and terrible time, but it seemed right. He’d made up his mind. He lifted his blade and with his hoof, found the gap between his ribs with his heart beyond. The point was still good, all it needed was one decent shove, a little pain and then he’d be with Honey, Polo and Dawn Dew, as he was meant to be. Ironically, once upon a time he would have called a pony a coward for doing this, but now, now it seemed the right thing to do. He took a deep breath and lifted the hilt to just the right angle to pierce his heart.

The Colonel closed his eyes. Should he say something? Say a prayer?

“Nopony’s listening” he laughed, “Nopony ever was.”

“Perhaps they were, Colonel Dray, did you never consider that?”

The sword clattered to the ground, Dray’s head whipping round,

“Who?”

“Oh, a friend is all” the cloaked figure said sitting down beside him.

The pony’s face was hidden by the cloaks cowl, but was quite clearly female. Dray looked away,

“A friend…” He snorted, picking up his sword, “Then you should know I want to be alone…friend.”

A golden furred leg stretched out, the elegant hoof touching his foreleg that held the sword,

“Do you think that this is the way?” the mare asked, “It is not what they want for you. It is not your time.”

“And what the hell would you know?” Dray spat, “I don’t know who you are or what you are, just…look, just bugger off and leave me alone.”

“Very well” the cloaked figure said, rising to her hooves, “if that is what you wish…”

Dray’s hoof stopped her, “Wait…” he took a breath, “You said, ‘they’?”

“Why, Honeysuckle, Polo and Dawn Dew of course.” The mare’s voice was as smooth as velvet, “They are safe, Colonel Dray, safe within the love of the eternal herd.”

“Will I see them again?” Dray murmured, his heart feeling like it could burst at any moment.

“Yes.” The mare replied, “But then really, that is up to you, and whichever path you choose to tread.” She sighed gently, a sound as soft as the morning breeze, “As indeed it is for anypony.”

The Colonel nodded, “If I live, I will kill Ochre. I may have to kill others.”

“Fate has already decided her course” the cloaked mare replied cryptically, “But the decisions you make with your life are still yours and yours alone.”

“What do you want from me?” Dray asked quietly, “I don’t even know who you are.”

The mare watched the flames rising ever higher into the night sky before replying. Her voice was soft, with an oddly ethereal, echoing quality that made the hairs prickle along Drays neck,

“There is a forest to the east of River Valley.” She said, “Atop its highest point, in a small clearing at the next full moon,” She turned to him, a pair of ice blue eyes glinting in the depths of the cowel, “There you will find what you seek.”

Dray blinked, “What I seek?”

“Yes” the mare said quietly, “What all ponies seek…” She reached out a hoof and tenderly touched his foreleg, “Hope.”

Silence fell. Dray shook his head slowly, lifting his sword up to the light of the fire blazing before him. Along the blade, the firelight flickered and danced as if alive. Soon, a different sort of light would be dancing across the cold steel surface: the light of life taken from another living, breathing, creature. His eyes lingered for while on the flames until finally, with snort, he rammed the sword home and adjusted his pack. In a soldiers heart there was no place for sentimentality, no room…for love. The old warrior closed his eyes and stretched his legs, gazing for the last time at his home, his beautiful home and the last resting place of his beloved family. He looked up into the sky,

“Farewell my little ones,” he whispered, “Daddy will be home soon.”

With a last swish of his tail, the Colonel turned and headed for the bridge. He didn’t bother to look for the cloaked pony. He knew who she was, and in a way, he’d always known. But now…now it was time to head out.

Chapter Twenty - Echoes of the Past

CHAPTER TWENTY

ECHOES OF THE PAST

In a dark alley, amidst the layers of dirt and decay, lay the still white form of a white unicorn. Only the stars far above bore witness to the faint rising and falling of his chest, the dark blood stains that matted his mane and fur. Nopony came down here, nopony had for an age…maybe not even since the days of the empire.

Chalk Dust floated in a world of nothingness. There was no pain, no up, no down, no light, not even any darkness. There was simply…nothing. He blinked slowly. It was so hard to think here, so difficult to remain ‘himself’, as if his own consciousness and being wanted to simply slip away. He tried to shake himself, but nothing obeyed him. He was a prisoner here, trapped within himself. The cold grip of panic began to snake its bitter claws around his heart; he had to get of here…he had to find…

“Hello?”

Goddesses, now he was hearing things!

“I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can, I’m going to try and help you, understand?”

Chalk tried to think, to respond to the distant disembodied voice, but here in the nothingness he couldn’t do anything. He struggled, trying to make his body work, to move, to breath, to do…something, anything!

And then he felt it. Something moved, the distant feeling of his body shifting and responding to something warm and gentle. It was…light, yes, it was light! Little by little, the nothingness was becoming brighter, his body beginning to shine as if it were part of that light, the light of life itself. His heart leaped, and he felt himself pushing, pushing onwards towards the source of that light and the voice…goddesses, give him strength, he wanted so much to live! He took a breath, his lungs powering back to life, his muscles surging. He made one last push, a single word, a name coming to him as he screamed out to the world of sound and light,

“GRETEL!”

The indigo stallion peered at him curiously,

“Most interesting” He muttered, “And most enlightening.”

There was the clink of something metallic being placed down on a hard surface beside him, but the light above was so bright that Chalk could barely see anything other than shadows. He lifted his foreleg across his eyes to shield them.

“Oops! Sorry about that…” The stallion shifted what looked like a circular disk of intense lights to one side and tapped the thing with his hoof. A second later the lights went out, replaced by a more tolerable series of more regular lanterns. The Indigo stallion reached down and lifted one of Chalk’s eyelids,

“Now hold still, I’m going to put some drops in your eyes.”

Chalk blinked furiously as the cold fluid plopped into his eyes, first the left, then the right. The stallion unbuckled a series of straps and passed him a bowl of liquid,

“It’s water,” he explained as if in answer to some unasked question, “with an infusion of local herbs. They taste a bit peculiar, but it’ll perk you up in no time.”

The room seemed to shift, and together with a series of loud clanks and thumps, Chalk suddenly found himself sitting upright. The indigo pony walked off to sit at a desk and lifted up a quill in the glow from his magic. Chalk’s eyes went wide,

“You’re a unicorn!”

The odd fellow was busy writing something in a book and didn’t look up,

“Remarkable observation skills” he said rather sarcastically, “your eyes are working, then.”

“No! I mean…” a sudden pain lanced across Chalk’s head, quickly subsiding but not before the nausea made him begin to heave.

“There’s a bucket next to you” the stallion called over, “Use that if you please.”

But as quickly as it had come, the wave of gut wrenching sickliness faded away like the pain. He lifted his hooves and checked them. They were a little cracked here and there but nothing too bad. His coat was dirty, unsurprisingly, and his muscles ached, but he was very much alive and, he was pleased to discover, still in one piece. Chalk looked around the room. It was a good size, with a folding bed type affair in the centre, occupied by himself currently, and lights, pipes, desks, drawers, and all manner of mundane as well as arcane furnishings. It was all so bewildering he didn’t know where to look next!

A little unsteadily, Chalk jumped down off the bed, testing his legs. Everything seemed to be working as it should, but…what the hell was going on here? One minute he was having that row with Gretel and the next…

“Oh…”

The stallion sat at the desk continued to write, “’Thank you’ will suffice” he muttered.

Chalk stared at him, “I…oh, yes. Thank you.” He cleared his throat, “Um, I don’t seem to be able to remember how I got here…”

The indigo unicorn suddenly spun round in his chair, “Concussion.” He said levelly, “It can happen with heavy blunt trauma to the back of the cranium. He pointed his hoof at Chalk meaningfully, “You sir, are one lucky pony. If I hadn’t found you when I did, you’d be just one more corpse for the rats and seagulls.”

“Oh…” Chalk swallowed. The mental image of being devoured by vicious, shrieking scavengers flashed briefly through his mind making his knees shiver. Being eaten had always been a fear of his, ever since foalhood when Great Uncle Cruet, the explorer in the family, had discovered a Hydra’s nest. The only reason they ever found out what had happened to the hapless stallion was the discovery of his hat with very large teeth marks in it…that and an open bottle of barbecue sauce sitting nearby.

“Well then,” the seated unicorn said returning to his work, “I’m glad I could help. Good day.”

Chalk felt a compulsion to walk towards the door, but…

“Sir, I don’t know your name.”

“Didn’t I say?” the indigo fellow replied, “I don’t suppose it really matters, but it’s Strata”

Chalk walked over to him and picked up the stallion’s hoof which he shook firmly, “Chalk Dust, but you can call me Chalky.” He grinned, “Well, Strata, I know I said it before, but…thank you. I don’t know why you helped me, but thank you none the less.”

“Why did I help you?” Strata asked curiously. He paused for a moment and then shook his head sadly, “Ponies help each other, Mister Dust. It’s something people in this place may have all but forgotten, but not me.”

“But why are you here?” Chalk asked, his curiosity piqued, “You’re the first unicorn I’ve seen since I arrived here. Well, other than the ex-prisoners we dropped off, but that’s another…”

“-You came in on that ship?!” Strata nearly shot out of his chair as he leaned towards his startled guest, “Do you know what that is?”

“Well, duh!” Chalk rolled his eyes, “It’s a flying ship of course. Since I’ve been on it, I did kinda notice?”

“Great gods, pony, it’s from the Empire, don’t you see!?” Strata shouted excitedly.

Chalk jumped out of his way as the excited indigo unicorn hopped down from his chair and began rushing about pulling out all manner of scrolls and boxes. He gave himself another stretch and trotted over to a large mirror hanging on the wall while the chaos behind him continued unabated. The reflection of him didn’t look too bad: his mane could do with a wash, there was a lot of dried blood in there by looks of it and it would probably stain, if it hadn’t already. He opened his mouth, twisting his head from side to side. Good, all his teeth seemed okay too. His eyes were a bit bloodshot, but that wasn’t all that surprising. Still, those scars were a bit unsightly. Maybe if he found a good magical healer, they may be able to…

“Here!”

Strata slammed his forehooves down of a large angle drawing board, smoothing out the edges of a very yellowed scroll. He flicked some sort of switch which made a bright light pop into life. Chalk jumped back in alarm, he’d never seen anything like that! Or…wait, no, he had! Those lamps on the ship! He reached out a hoof towards the odd contraption, the small glowing ‘things’ inside swirling and glowing brightly,

“What…are those” he muttered.

Strata turned away from the scroll irritably, “What? Oh! Those are…” He paused, his features softening as he took in the look of fascination on the white unicorn’s face, “They’re a subclass of Twitter Mite, Electralis Fulminatum if you want the old Equestrian for them. The Empire bred them for various applications, including, but not limited to, lighting.”

“The Crystal Empire…” Chalk murmured, “I used to think it was a story.”

“You and everypony else”, Strata snorted, lifting over a large magnifying glass, “Here, look at this.”

The scroll he indicated featured writing in a language Chalk had never seen before. It was a strange, angular writing, but there, as clear as day in the bright light from the amazing lamp, were detailed pictures of several galleons. He couldn’t recognise the names, but he could certainly spot the King Sombra’s Revenge when he saw her.

Strata stroked his hoof across the scroll reverently, his voice low and full of wonder,

“The Amethyst Fleet”

“The what?” Chalk asked impulsively.

“The Amethyst Fleet” Strata tapped his hoof on one of the peculiar looking words, “This is part of a shipwrights chart, detailing the various sky galleons of the Crystal Empire. Your vessel is one of the last completed before the Empire was consumed.”

“Con…” A shiver ran down Chalks back, “Consumed?”

“Dimension magic” Strata said mysteriously, his chestnut eyes glinting in the lamplight. He suddenly turned back to the scroll, “Or so the stories say at least.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Chalk summised, “Here in Spurs Anvil? I know it was part of the Crystal Empire once. Well, I was told it was, so…”

“Oh, it was” Strata said nodding emphatically, “and I have been here for the last few years examining its secrets, learning all there is to know about the Empire.” He suddenly slammed his hooves down on the floor, “But I know so little!” he spat, “The Empire was a place of true wonder, of…of crystal ponies! Can you imagine anything so…amazing?!”

Chalk sat down on his haunches while the indigo pony walked around the room flicking on lamp after lamp until it shone like a summers day. One by one, the innumerable strange and wonderful treasures stored within Strata’s room were revealed, leaving Chalk sitting there dumbfounded, his eyes growing wider by the moment and his mouth hanging open in wonder…

“See…SEE!” Strata laughed, waving a hoof at the many pictures, charts, models and other strange items hanging from the ceiling or sitting on shelves, “Here was true civilisation; here was where the future lay!” Strata stood on his hind legs and twirled around, utter ecstasy written all over his face, “Can’t you see, Chalky?”

Chalk nodded, “It’s…wonderful…”

“I knew a fellow unicorn would understand!” Strata laughed, trotting over to a cabinet and taking out a bottle of sparkling red liquid, “I knew…I knew!” He took down two glasses from the shelf and uncorked the bottle with a loud pop, “Here”

Taking the glass in his hooves, Chalk stared at the liquid within; it seemed to be moving on its own, sparkling and dancing before him as if alive. He closed his eyes and sniffed it tentatively. The smell of exotic fruits, of fresh mountain air and days of sunshine and joy tickled his nose invitingly. Before his knew it, he’d taken a mouthful of it.

“My…goddesses,” Chalk breathed, “That is…”

“-Wonderful, isn’t it?” Strata said, sighing happily, “Sheer ecstasy in a bottle.”

“What is it?”

Strata waved a hoof nonchalantly, “The translation is a little difficult, but I believe it is called Soulberry Wine. Another translation may be ‘Spirit’ berry, but I can’t be certain.” He downed the last of glass, licking his lips, “So much has been lost, my friend…so, so much.” Strata sank into his chair and waved Chalk to another, “Now…I want to know all about this ship of yours, and perhaps, in the morning, we can go and see her?”

Chalk smiled to himself. He was sure he was forgetting something, but that wine…!

“Um…may I?” he held out his glass.

“Of course!” Strata laughed, “There’s plenty more.” He poured another measure out for them both.

“Is this from the Empire?” Chalk asked, intrigued.

Strata shook his head, “The recipe is. I have one original bottle left, but it’s simply priceless and I’ve no intention of opening that! Thank the gods, I found the recipe for sale on the market here in port.” He shook his head and gave a short derisive laugh, “Something so priceless, and those ignorant earth ponies had it on a flea market. Can you imagine? A flea market!”

Chalk winced a little at the ‘ignorant earth pony’ comment. Many of the crew, in fact, all of the crew, were earth ponies. He scratched his chin in thought…why was that?

“Strata? Why aren’t unicorns allowed on ships?”

“Oh, superstitious fluff and nonsense!” The indigo stallion laughed, waving his hoof, “Earth pony ‘wisdom’” He held his hooves up, emphasising the last word, “How could they understand something as incredible and magical as the Crystal Empire? It’s for creatures of magic, unicorns, to truly appreciate.” He lay a hoof on Chalk’s shoulder as he nodded to himself.

“The Captain’s an earth pony” Chalk said, feeling a little defensive, “She…”

“-Ah! Well, there is a reason for that!” Strata clopped his hooves together and pulled out a beaten and battered old book, “Look!”

There was more of the alien hoofwriting, but thankfully, there were pictures too. The one Strata pointed to was small, but it quite clearly represented a group of unicorns casting some sort of spell upon what looked like an earth pony bowing before them. Behind the pony was the image of a galleon, no doubt a sky galleon from Strata’s reaction.

“What does it mean?” Chalk asked.

“It’s a bestowing of magic upon the lineage of Captains.” Strata tapped the image with his hoof, “The master shipwrights would…” he waved a hoof in the air, searching for the right word, “…’bestow’, the give of magic upon a creature that had none - an empty vessel, waiting to be filled with the wonder of the Empires finest magics. Can you picture it? The sheer bliss, the indescribable joy of receiving such a gift of such tremendous magnanimity; it makes my heart cry out for the return of those wondrous days, Chalky.” He sniffed, “It really does.”

Chalk scratched his head, “The Empire vanished ages ago though, and the Captain’s not that much older than me…I think?”

Actually, come to think of it, how old was she? He’d never asked. But, did it really matter? Stallions tended to go for younger mare’s that was true, but…she was so…

“-Breeding.”

Chalks mind felt like it had been completely de-railed, “I’m sorry?”

“I said, it’s breeding” Strata announced, pointing a hoof at him, “Your Captain must have inherited it from one of her parents, and their parents before them.” He laughed, spinning in his chair, “I see! My gods, it all makes sense now!” Strata leaned back and held his head in his hooves, “I couldn’t quite see it all; my eyes, so long blinded by the callous insensitivity of what Equestria has become…OPENED!”

Strata lifted his glass and tossed his silver mane dramatically,

“Thank you, Chalky, thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

“For what?” Chalk asked in surprise.

Strata laughed out loud, “For helping me to see, my friend! Without you, without another unicorn, I was but a spark in the darkness of the world. Now, now with your help, we can discover even more!”

Chalk’s mood faltered, “Um…look, Strata, I’m supposed to be looking for something.”

Strata furrowed his brow, “For what?”

Suddenly feeling unsure, Chalk scrubbed his mane nervously, “I…I don’t know…”

“In which case, why worry?” The indigo unicorn smiled, “Another glass?”

Chalk reached out with his hoof, “Sure…”

“Right then,” Strata said, “Time for you to answer some of my questions, Mister Dust. Fair enough?”

“Aye,” Chalk nodded, holding up the glass of liquid up to the light, “I think that’s fair.”

*********************************

The sun was rising in the sky, its gentle light and natural warmth falling across the white unicorn’s muzzle. He yawned and stretched his legs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. What time was it? Standing, his hoof knocked the empty wine bottle sending it rolling across the bench top.

“Wha…?”

The sleepy Strata smacked his lips, opening his eyes with a groan,

“Oh gods…I think I drank too much…”

The warming light created shadows across the room. Strata’s coat, already dark, looked almost black. Chalk chuckled, he looked just like…

“Oh, buck me bloody sideways! Bracken!”

“Eh?”

Chalk was all but dancing on his hooves, “Bracken! He’s my friend, the one I was supposed to be looking for!” He span around in a circle, “Damn it! I haven’t…where’s all my stuff!?”

“You didn’t have anything on you when I found you,” Strata sighed, “hang on…”

Agonisingly slowly, the now frantic Chalk watched the indigo stallion gradually pull himself unsteadily from the chair and walk over to the hat stand. Reaching up, he took down a wide brimmed hat, a set of panniers and a saddle pack,

“There, I want them back though. They’re only a loaner, okay?”

Chalk felt flustered all of sudden, “Sure! Look, Strata, thanks, I don’t know what to say…”

“-Then just…Oh! Hang on, you may need this too…” Strata trotted over to a cupboard and clicked the lock open. With a slight creaking noise, the lid opened and he reached inside, taking out a long cloth wrapped item. Chalk’s eyes went wide. He could tell what it was from just the shape alone.

Slipping the cover off, Strata lifted the sword up to the light, “I have two. Maybe the only two left in Equestria, who knows.” He bobbed his head to Chalk Dust, “I want you to have this my friend.”

Strata hoofed the long sleek weapon to the shocked white unicorn. Chalk licked his lips, virtually trembling in excitement. He couldn’t explain why he felt so nervous, maybe it had been the drink, perhaps even the proximity of so many fascinating antiques, but here, in his hooves, he held an object of such age and antiquity it was making his heart race. He stared down at the scabbard. It was crafted from a black leather like material, the embossed silver furnishings along its length displaying images of fish, the sea and strangely appropriately, sailing ships. The hilt was of silver again, only it had a slick, almost crystalline structure to it that made his skin tingle in anticipation. Chalk took a breath and slipped the baldric over his head. Standing on his hind legs, he took the classic fighting stance he’d been taught in the army and, with a single fluid movement, released the blade from its scabbard.

There was no sound, no ring, no clatter of metal on wood. Instead, there was only the barest hiss, as if the very air itself had been sliced in two. Chalk followed the lines of the blade - it was flawless. The shining crystalline metal, oil black, shining like the deepest onyx, was a thing of the most unnaturally beauty and deadly grace he had ever beheld. He shook his head in wonder.

“You like it?” Strata smiled, “It’s yours for as long as you need it.”

Chalk paused. His fascination with the magnificent weapon had blanked his mind. He couldn’t take this! It wasn’t right! He’d only just met the pony who’d not only saved his life, but was giving him something that was probably worth a small kingdom. He opened his mouth to speak, but Strata held up a hoof,

“Before you say what I know you’re going to say” he smirked, “I have another.” Strata laughed, “Chalky, you’ve helped me more than you could possibly know. However,” He raised an eyebrow, “there is a condition.”

Chalk waited.

“I want a tour of the Revenge”

Damn it all! He didn’t have time for this! Bracken could be miles away by now, or…or worse. He couldn’t go with Strata for a bloody tour of the ship now! And besides, Gretel had told him to get out in no uncertain terms. No, he couldn’t...unless…

“Strata, I’m sorry, I can’t do that. I have to find Bracken, he’s my friend. But…” he held up a hoof at the disappointed look that Strata was giving him, “If you ask for Stock when you get to the Revenge, tell him Chalky will forgive him for the ‘Balta Incident’ if he shows you around the ship.” He smiled to himself. That should do it.

“You think that would work?” Strata asked uncertainly.

“Of course!” Chalky laughed, “He nearly killed me!”

“It’s a strange company you keep, Mister Dust” Strata muttered shaking his head in wonder, “Now, I suppose you’ll want to get going. Just, remember to bring back my gear when you’re passing next, okay?”

“Of course.” Chalk reached out and embraced the surprised indigo stallion, “Take care my friend.”

A few minutes of adjusting gear and farewells later, Chalk trotted off into the new morning.

***************************

Gretel walked slowly back along the dockside, her heart heavy in her chest. She’d searched all night, and the sun was already rising up above the horizon. The shore party had come back empty hoofed too, even Pickles’ girls had drawn a blank and, by the sounds of it, they knew virtually everypony in port. Quite literally, she thought to herself irritably. Where the hell was he? The old farts at the Fighting Cocks had seen the two of them but there’d been no sign of either of them since Bracken had been spirited away into the night. As for Chalky…she shook her head in dismay, at least she hadn’t found a crumpled corpse, and here in Spurs Anvil, bodies weren’t exactly uncommon. Good goddesses, she’d even asked those brutal moronic thugs at the watch house!

She sighed. The two stallions had made quite a scene in the port, and now they’d vanished like morning mist.

“Captain Gretel?”

The red mare looked up bleary eyed at the griffin who was addressing her,

“Yes?”

“I have a message from Mister Wain.”

The griffin passed her a scroll, bowed and then walked away without another word. Gretel rolled her eyes,

“Charming.”

“What is it?” Pickles asked stretching her neck, “Any news?”

Gretel sank to her haunches and opened the scroll. It was written in incredibly neat script, certainly better than she could manage, but then he probably didn’t write with his bloody mouth did he? Blasted creature…

Clearing her throat she read in silence, her heart sinking even further than she thought possible. That was it then wasn’t it? All that searching, all that effort, for nothing. Damn him!

“Gretel?”

The Captain rolled up the parchment and fixed the sea green mare with a look,

“I’ve got to leave.”

Pickles took a step forward,

“What? What do you mean ‘You’ve got leave’? You can’t just go!”

“That’s exactly what I’ve got to do”, Gretel replied levelly, “I’ve got no choice…”

Her mother shook her head irritably, “’You’ve got no choice’…You always have a choice, Gretel, always.” She reached out with a hoof, but Gretel backed away shaking her head. “So that’s it then, is it?” Pickles said angrily, “You’re just going to abandon them, just up and off, just like that!”

“I said I don’t have a choice!” Gretel nearly shouted, “I have a ship to run, remember? What I want comes last!”

“It doesn’t have to!” Pickles snapped, stomping a hoof, “For the goddesses’ sake, Gretel, think about Chalk!”

Gretel’s mind was in turmoil, her chest heaving. She looked up at her mother with tears forming in her eyes,

“I am! Damn it, mother, what do you think we’ve been doing all bloody night? He’s gone!”

“You don’t know that, Gretel,” Pickles replied sourly, “You’re just finding excuses now.”

“Damn it!” Gretel spat angrily tossing her mane, “I don’t have time for this.” She turned her back on the incensed sea green mare and began walking away.

“That’s right!” Pickles shouted to her retreating form, “You walk away! Leave those who need you to fend for themselves, abandoning your loved ones for the sake of that bloody ship!” Her voice cracked as she shrieked, Frilly holding her back, “You’re just like your bloody father!”

Gretel hung her head as she walked, wiping the tears away from her eyes. As much as her mother angered her, as much as she hated her for what she’d done all those years ago, what she said…goddesses damn her…

The ships watch called back to the others on deck that their Captain was back. Cyclone poked her head over the side,

“Cap’n?”

Gretel kept her voice neutral,

“Get the crew aboard and prepare to get underway, Bosun”

“Aye, aye Cap’n”

In moments, the deck was a hive of activity, with ponies rushing up from below decks to ready the Revenge for departure. Gretel took off her hat and sword, passing them to one of the deck hands who took them away to her cabin. She’d have a wash later, after they were on their way. She trotted up to the helm where the enigmatic form of Mister Haggis was already checking the compass and other navigational equipment were ready. He was good like that, and a better helmspony she could never ask for. She hoofed him the scroll,

“When we leave dock, set course for the co-ordinates on there, Mister Haggis” She clopped him on the shoulder.

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

Goddesses, she was so tired. Her legs felt like lead as she climbed up to the quarterdeck. It was a cool morning, and the wind was just picking up, but the fatigue of being up all night was wearing on her. She gave her yellow mane a shake. The emotional turmoil and heartache she felt was another matter. Gretel closed her eyes and willed away the image of the smiling white unicorn, his cheeky grin, and the feel of his soft hooves…

“Good morning!”

Gretel yawned, “Good morning”.

Wha?! Her eyes flew open and she span to face the indigo coated unicorn standing behind her carrying a notepad and quill. The creature nodded to her and smiled, trotting off to peer inquisitively at part of the rigging. Gretel’s mouth opened and closed several times before she was able to gather her wits,

“What’s that bloody unicorn doing on my ship?!” Gretel bellowed, pointing at the wide eyed stallion who was unconcernedly carrying on making notes as if she didn’t exist, “Wha…? Bloody hell fire, are we running free bloody tours now? Stock! STOCK!”

The brown stallion appeared from the hatch on the deck and trotted up beside her, carrying a tray of tea and biscuits,

“Morning Cap’n, I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

The Captain looked ready to explode,

“Apparently not!” She slammed her hoof on the deck, “What the blistering buggering hell is going one here? First it’s that bloody Pickles and her tarts, and now…” she waved her hoof, “whoever the bloody hell he is!”

The indigo stallion trotted over, a huge smile on his face,

“Ah, tea! Excellent!”

His horn glowed, the cup floating off the tray along with a biscuit.

“Don’t use bloody magic aboard my ship!” Gretel nearly screamed, “What the hells going on?! Stock, get him off here, now!”

“You must be the Captain.” The indigo unicorn said around a mouthful of crumbs, “Chalky told me all about you.” He smiled, “I have a few questions I’d like to…”

“-Chalky?” Gretel reached out and grabbed him, making the pony choke on the biscuit, “You saw him? Recently?”

“Well, yes” he replied brushing the crumbs from his coat, “I found him in the street. Somepony had cracked his skull like an egg…’pop’!”

Gretel thought she was going to scream,

“And?”

The stallion looked puzzled for a moment and then nodded to himself,

“Oh…don’t worry, he’s fine now. I patched him up. Fascinating fellow he is too, we had a really good chat last night. I think we went on a lot longer than I’d expected though!” The stallion chuckled, “Would you believe I actually fell asleep!”

“Stock…” Gretel hissed, “You have command. Mister Haggis has our course.” She walked over to the indigo stallion, “And you…’Sir’, are coming with me.”

“Will I be able to see the Captains cabin?” The stallion all but squealed in delight, “How exciting!”

“Oh, yes” the Captain muttered, pushing the newcomer to the steps, “Very ‘exciting’.”

The two trotted down the steps to the Captains cabin, the indigo stallion all but leaping through the door as she slammed it shut behind him. He was an excitable sort by the looks of him, some may even say eccentric, but wasn’t that some sort of unicorn trait? Chalky had a certain liveliness about him that appealed to her, but this one looked to be in a different league altogether. She watched him as he all but danced around the cabin, taking notes, running his hooves over things and…now he was sitting in her chair!

“Off!” She snapped, pushing the stallion out her chair, “Sit there!” She pointed to the seat opposite her.

The unicorn happily sat down and immediately began staring all around the cabin like a newborn foal taking in the fascinatingly unfamiliar world about them. Gretel leaned on the table and fixed him with her best ‘Captain-ly’ stare,

“Who are you?”

The stallion stopped what he was doing and stared back at her with his big chestnut eyes, “My name is Agate Strata,” he bowed politely, “but you may call me Strata, my Captain.” Gretel could feel her eye twitching. “I am,” he continued, “what you may call a historian, antiquarian, collector and librarian.” He smiled, “A hoarder of knowledge and investigator of days long passed.” He held out a hoof dramatically, “Far back from the mists of time, I travel through the pages of…”

“-Yes, yes, yes!” Gretel puffed, tapping her hoof on the desk, “But why are you on my ship, and what do you know about Chalk Dust?”

“Oh, forgive me.” Strata cleared his throat and put down his notepad and quill, “My excitement of being aboard an actual vessel of the Amethyst Fleet has quite thrown me for a loop and I’ve forgotten my manners.” Strata shook his silver mane, “Your friend, Mister Dust was hurt. I found him in the street after he made quite the clatter, I can tell you. As I said, I used magic to heal him” he tapped his horn with a grin, “and we had the most delightful chat about the old Empire and your magnificent vessel.”

“Go on…” Gretel nodded.

“Well,” Strata said downing the last of his tea, “We had a few drinks, fell asleep, and then when he woke up he’d remembered what he was looking for. Some chap called ‘Bracken’ apparently.”

Gretel’s heart felt like it would burst. She swallowed, “So where is he now?”

Strata shook his head, “I have no idea. I gave him some things to help him on his way though, including some goodies which he will no doubt enjoy and also prove to be of particular use on his quest.”

“So you don’t know where he is?” she asked.

“No, Captain.”

Gretel closed her eyes, the light of hope snuffed out in an instant,

“So why are you aboard, Mister Strata,” she said quietly, “Care to explain?”

“Mmm” Strata munched down the last of his biscuit, “I study the histories and antiquities of the old Crystal Empire. Young Mister Dust said I could speak to his friend, Master Stock, for a tour if I mentioned something to do with ‘Balta’? He seemed to know what it meant and very kindly showed me around your fascinating vessel.”

“And he did.” Gretel muttered under her breath.

She leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling. At least Chalky wasn’t floating dead in the harbour, or a bloated corpse for the various vermin that lived in the port. But running off like that! What a bloody fool! He could be anywhere by now, and probably facing dangers that anypony in their right mind would have balked at. She leaned her forehead on her hoof.

“Gretel?” It was Doc.

She didn’t look up, “Yes?”

“I need to speak to you about…oh!” he noticed the indigo pony and nodded, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you had company.”

“It’s alright, Doc, our friend here appears to know our missing Chalk Dust.”

“Strata…” The indigo unicorn held out his hoof and shook the Doctor’s enthusiastically, “Charmed”

“Um…yes. Doc, please to meet you.” Doc looked to the Captain, “A friend of Chalk’s?”

“Well, more of a brief acquaintance, I’m afraid” Strata smiled, “I’m more of a historian really, specialising in the Crystal Empire and the Amethyst Fleet. That’s why I decided to set up shop, so to speak, in Spurs Anvil.”

“Historian?” Doc peered at him over his spectacles, “The Amethyst Fleet?” He sat down on his haunches and scratched his muzzle, “Fascinating.”

“Isn’t it though?” Strata said happily, “To think the king built so few of these wonderful vessels and yet some of them still exist to this day! Truly a remarkable example of the quality of the Imperial Shipwrights trade, wouldn’t you say?”

The Captain tapped her hoof on the desk, “Yes…truly fascinating. Now, I’m sorry to interrupt your scintillating conversation, gentlecolts, but Mister Strata here will need to put ashore. You know the rule.”

“Er…Captain, that may prove a little difficult?” Doc said raising an eyebrow.

“What are you talking about?” Gretel asked irritably, “We’re…oh damn it all…” She face hoofed. With all the chatting and distractions, she hadn’t noticed the Revenge lift from the water. She looked into the large brown eyes of the smiling stallion before her and groaned aloud. It had happened again, hadn’t it?! Bloody unicorns!

Strata suddenly rushed over to the large leaded light windows at the rear of the Captains cabin, lifting his hooves up to the frame and gasped in awe,

“My gods!” he breather, “We’re flying! We’re actually flying!”

“And if you want to remain ‘flying’” Gretel said, advancing on him, “You WON’T use any more magic on my ship, or you’ll be ‘flying’ over the bloody side. Do I make myself clear?”

Strata gave her a curious look,

“You don’t actually believe all that superstitious nonsense do you?” He chuckled, “You earth ponies! So quaint in your archaic beliefs!”

Gretel took a deep breath and reached out, gripping the stallions muzzle in her hooves, “I said…’Do I make myself clear’?”

Strata swallowed, his eyes locked onto the Captains,

“Perfectly…” he squeaked.

“Excellent!” Gretel let her gaze linger on the peculiar stallion for a moment before releasing him, “Doc, can you ask Master Stock to see that our guest has quarters set up for him?” She grinned menacingly, “In the hold.”

“Aye Captain.” Doc said, rising to his hooves.

Gretel fixed him with a look, “And then you can tell me what it was you wanted to tell me.”

“Aye, Aye, Captain.”

The two stallions left the cabin, leaving Gretel to her own thoughts once more. She poured over the map on the desk, checking and re-checking the details left with her by Hay Wain’s messenger while she tapped her teeth with her a of compasses. Something didn’t seem right here; the co-ordinates were deep within the area known as the ‘Cloud Sea’ near the griffin kingdom, but there was no landmass there. Griffins were certainly skilled at crafting weapons, that fact was well known, but not so much for magic, and this stank of it. Maybe they’d employed unicorns? She nodded to herself. That had to be it. If there was one thing griffins were noted for above all else, it was making money and they’d certainly have more than enough gold to pay for something suitably ‘impressive’. She opened the accompanying script from Hay Wain. It was addressed to ‘Concerned’, very cryptic! But within it was the real prize, the promise of payment from the ports governor for two hundred barrels; two hundred deadly containers of the most destructive material known to pony kind. She smiled wryly to herself. Either the Celestians or the Legion, maybe even both, would pay well for a cargo such as this, and when they did, the Revenge and her crew would simply sail away and let that lot wipe each other out. She glowered at the map, her teeth grinding…Princesses…she owned them nothing! If it wasn’t for them, for what they’d done, the Empire would still be here and not a…a bunch of ‘interesting’ relics for some nutty unicorn or the subject of some randy old mares bloody novel!

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in”

Doc bobbed his head as he entered, bringing a member of the crew with him this time.

“What’s this?” Gretel asked. She didn’t like the look of this at all.

Doc nudged the crew pony forward, “Come on Dinks, tell the Captain what you saw.”

The piebald stallion hung his head and wrung his hooves, muttering nervously.

“Dinks?” The Captain asked, “What’s up? You can tell me, I only ever ask for honesty from my crew.”

“I…I know Cap’n” he mumbled, “But…it’s one of me crewmates…you know how it is.”

Gretel sighed, rubbing her eyes with her foreleg. Damn it! If she wasn’t so tired, she’d be able to think better. As it was, everything was piling up at the worst possible time and in the worst possible way.

“I understand, Dinks” she said calmly, “Doc, get him a brandy would you.”

The Doctor poured a glass out which the crewpony quickly downed gratefully. Gretel raised her eyebrows, encouraging the stallion to speak.

“Well, Cap’n,” Dinks explained, “I don’t likes tae speak badly o’ another member o’ the crew, see. But y’know when we was, like, at Madam Pickles’ place…”

He looked up, suddenly embarrassed.

“I know what stallions do at Madam Pickles’, Dinks.” Gretel smiled, “I’m not a prude you know.”

“Aye Cap’n.” Dinks said, a look of relief passing over his face, “But, y’see when we was there, me an a couple o’ the boys went lookin’ for a drink. Pickles’ is a bit dear on the ale side an’ the Full Moon was kickin’ off.”

Gretel nodded, “Mmm, I heard…” And also ‘who’ was involved too!

“Well, see, me an’ the boys clocked a pony comin’ out o’ the guvnor’s in a cloak talkin’ to some dodgy looking lubbers who was wearin’ cloaks too. Well, she ran off, see. Ah, don’t think she saw us, ‘cos she wasn’t coverin’ ‘erself as well as she could an’ we got a proper good look at ‘er.”

“Go on…”

“Well, y’knows how later there was that kick off at Pickles’? Ah’ reckon’s it were the same cloaked lubbers. They was the same in number too!”

“How many?” Gretel asked curiously.

“Er…” Dinks looked down at his hooves, his face scrunching up in concentration.

“It doesn’t matter” Gretel sighed, much to the relief of the stallion, “Who was the mare?”

Dinks’ face flushed, “Ah…well…”

“Fine.” Gretel motioned to Doc to pour Dinks another brandy, “You don’t have to tell me Dinks.”

“I don’t?” he replied in surprise.

“No!” Gretel laughed, “Of course not, I already know!”

“Really?”

“Yes. Let’s see now…” Gretel scratched her chin, “She’s blue, isn’t she… a sort of bluey…”

Dinks chuckled, “No! lighter, more sea like…”

“Green?”

“That’s it!”

“And a red mane, if memory serves correctly.”

Dinks shook his head, “Nope”

“I think it was, Dinks! Here, Doc, give him another!”

Gretel laughed, poking the crewpony in the chest with her glass, “Her…mane…is…red!”

“Gotcha there, Cap’n!” Dinks laughed, knocking back the brandy, “It was blue!”

Gretels blood ran cold. She looked at Doc as she spoke,

“And purple eyes…”

“Aye! You got it Cap’n!” Dinks slapped his sides, “I didn’t needs to tell ye after all!”

“No…” Gretel passed the piebald crewpony the rest of the brandy bottle, “Thanks, Dinks. Don’t tell anypony about this, and keep that bottle for tonight. I won’t have pissed up ponies in my rigging.”

“Thanks, Cap’n!” The happy stallion said tapping his forelock, “Goddess bless ye.”

Gretel turned from the door and leaned both her forehooves on the table. Doc stood behind her quietly. Goddess damn it…every time she came to this dung pile, every single bloody time, there was trouble. Chalky, Pickles and now…

She sighed, “Doc?”

“Captain”

Gretel closed her eyes, “Place Cyclone under arrest. She’s to be put in the brig until I decide what to do with her.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Gretel picked up her sword and hat. Of all the ponies, of all the bloody crew she thought would…do what? Betray her? Damn it all! She slammed her hoof down on the table and snatched up another brandy bottle. The crap they sold in this port was passable, but nothing like she’d had from the mountain tribe. Now they knew how to distil a decent brandy, not like these bloody hacks. Gretel took a mouthful and swallowed the fiery spirit before ramming her hat on her head and making for door. For a moment, she paused, looking at the bed and shook her head sadly. By the Goddess, if there was some way, some chance…

“Be safe, Chalky…” she murmured, and swept from the room.

Below, Stock and Doc stood by the door to the brig, moving aside to let the Captain through. The room beyond had last been used to house Chalky’s lifelong friend, a fact that made her cringe inwardly, but it had to be done. Now, it was occupied by the very pony that had betrayed them. The irony was something that probably wasn’t lost on the bosun, who sat there like a lost soul on the edge of the bed. Gretel leaned against the bars,

“Bosun…Cyclone…”

The mint green mare stared at the floor impassively, “Cap’n.”

“Look at me.” The Bosun looked up to face her Captain, the shackles on her fore and hind legs clinking noisily as she moved. “Cyclone…” Gretel closed her eyes a moment, the shock of her friend, the pony she’d saved the life of all those years ago, sitting in the brig on her own ship, was overwhelming. She could feel the churning emotions bubbling away inside her: anger, sadness, loss, but worst of all…betrayal. “Why…” she asked quietly, “why did you do it?”

The green mare looked up, her haunted purple eyes glancing at Stock and then back to her Captain,

“I…I had to, Cap’n.”

“What did you do, Cyclone.” Gretel asked, “Tell me, and I can…”

“Go easy on me?” Cyclone laughed bitterly, “You think I haven’t heard that before? You think they went easy on me?”

“We’re not talking about that!” Gretel snapped back angrily, “You betrayed a member of this crew!”

“You mean that bloody unicorn?” Cyclone sneered, “He was nothing but trouble, for you, for the ship and everypony aboard!”

Gretel shook her head, “That was not your decision to make, Cyclone. Chalk was…”

“-We all know what he was!” The green mare shouted, straining the chains binding her limbs, “He was in your bed every bloody night! Everypony aboard knows!”

“What I do in my cabin has got nothing to do with you or anypony on this crew!” Gretel snarled, her anger rising, “Nothing at all!”

“Oh, but it does, doesn’t it?” Cyclone replied angrily, “Your decision to bring a dangerous magical creature aboard, to endanger all of us, was because of your damned infatuation with him. You know what happened to the Ravens Eye! How many damned times have you yourself told us, ‘no unicorns on my ship!’ and what happens? Some fancy pony with a pretty mane bats his eyes at you and you melt like snow in a furnace!” Cyclone pulled violently at her chains, her eyes bulging in fury, “Yes! I told those thugs where to find him, I sold him out, and you what? I’d do it again! Because…” She cast another glance at Stock, “because I love this ship, and…because, I…”

Gretel squeezed her eyes shut as the mint green mare’s words died away,

“Cyclone, if you felt so strongly, why didn’t you come and speak to me? You of all ponies know my door is always open.”

“What a load of bollocks!” Cyclone snapped, “You wouldn’t have listened, would you? No. You were too busy having your rump battered by that damned…”

“-Shut your damned mouth!” Gretel was nearly incandescent with rage, “You…you little bitch! I saved your life! I gave you a home, I gave you my trust! And this is how you repay me? With betrayal?”

Cyclone kicked out at the door, heedless of the damage she was doing to her legs. Her eyes blazed like fire, “You aren’t fit to command this ship!” she howled, “Your judgement is flawed, and it’s all because of that damned freak of nature! You should be thanking me, Gretel! Thanking me!”

She fell to the floor gasping for breath, her tears falling like heavy rain onto the bare wood floor of the cell. Gretel stood tall and straight, looking down dispassionately at the broken creature she had once called her friend.

Stock broke the silence, “Captain?” he glanced at Doc before continuing, “What are your orders?”

“You know what the rules aboard this ship, Master Stock.” Gretel said coldly, “Do I need to remind you?”

“No, Cap’n”

“Good” She turned away, “Make it so.”

Doc looked up at Stock, “Good goddesses, Stock, not Cyclone!” He called out to the Captain, “Gretel! Please!”

The Captain stopped and looked back at the blue stallion, her face an unreadable mask,

“Everypony is subject to the rules of this vessel, Doctor, even me.”

“What about Chalk then? What about the rules about unicorns?”

Gretel’s eyes bored in him, making him quail involuntarily,

“Master Stock, you have your orders. Sentence is to be carried out at midday.”

The dark brown stallion nodded, “Aye, aye Captain.”

Doc was in shock. Surely she couldn’t mean that really? Cyclone…after all she’d been through, her own friend would do that to her? Dear goddesses, this was wrong! He gave himself a shake and ran off up the steps to the deck and up to the quarterdeck where the Captain was leaning against the balustrade.

“Gretel…!”

“-Doc” The Captain interrupted, “My decision is not up for discussion, and as an officer aboard this ship, I expect you to back me on matters of discipline.”

The blue stallion shook his head in exasperation, “This isn’t discipline, Gretel! This is revenge, revenge for what happened with Chalk Dust.”

She rounded on him, her eyes flashing dangerously, “This has nothing to with who it was, Doc. If she’d done this to somepony else, we wouldn’t be having this discussion! What if it had been you? Or Stock? So bloody what if Chalk is a unicorn, the crew like him and he would have made a fine addition to the ship’s complement, but now…now we’ll never know will we?”

Doc hung his head. She was right of course, if Cyclone had betrayed any other member of the crew, the punishment would have been the same. But still…

“Captain, Cyclone did this for the sake of the ship. She had the best intentions of all of us at heart.”

“Really?” Gretel snorted, “You actually believe that do you? My Goddess, you really don’t know her do you?”

“I…”

Gretel turned away, “How could you? You’re a stallion.”

“What the hell’s my gender got to do with anything?” Doc snapped, “What is this? Some sort of female intuition?”

Gretel shook her head, “It’s called keeping my eyes and ears open, Doctor. Something I thought you of all ponies would have understood! You know as well as anypony about her and Stock.”

Doc held up his hooves in frustration, “That was years ago! And besides, what’s that got to do with Chalk?”

“Jealousy” Gretel said quietly, “She saw the attention Chalk was receiving from the crew, and from Stock in particular. You weren’t in there with the crew that night, were you?”

“What, the night Chalk nearly drank himself to death?” Doc asked in surprise.

Gretel nodded.

Doc couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “You mean to say she’d sell one her own crewmates out because an old flame was talking to him? That’s…that’s…”

“Madness?” Gretel took out a lace hankie from her overcoat and wiped her forehead, “Perhaps, but you don’t know her the way I do, Doc.” She lifted her telescope and scanned the horizon, “You have work to do, Doc. She’ll be needing you later.”

Doc shook his head in dismay. He hadn’t seen Gretel like this in a long time, not since her father had died, but this…this was wrong. He trotted off back to sickbay, his anger bubbling away deep inside. In some ways, he agreed with what Cyclone had done, just not how she had done it, but this had become personal between the two mares. This was about love, and a mare feeling spiteful towards the other, but then, what the hell did he know about mares? He reached sickbay and pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind him before he began taking down bandages and linaments. Carefully, Doc arranged them on the table before placing them one by one into his pannier. Gretel was right; Cyclone would be needing these soon. It was nearly midday.

********************

“Bosun Cyclone, you are charged with gross misconduct and behaving in a manner which has compromised the integrity and safety of this ship.”

Stock sat behind the makeshift desk that had been put together from the crude assemblage of a couple of barrels and a plank. He pointed to an entry in the large bound book before him,

“By article thirty six of the ships regulations, you are hereby sentenced to forty lashes. Sentence is to be carried out immediately.” He looked up at the mint green mare before him. “Do you have anything to say before sentence is carried out?”

Cyclone stood proud, her purple eyes gazing into his, her expression unreadable,

“No, Master Stock.”

Stock turned to Gretel who was stood nearby,

“Captain?”

The red coated mare, wearing her formal coat, hat and sword, nodded to a yellow mare standing beside a length of rigging that had been erected below the forecastle,

“Master at Arms, carry on.”

The large yellow mare nodded to the Captain before motioning to a couple of the crew,

“Tie her up”

Cyclone’s manacles were removed and dropped heavily to the deck. Tossing her mane, she walked confidently over to the rigging and reached down to the thick overcoat she habitually wore. One by one, she began to undo the buttons, until finally, the long garment slid to the ground. Mutterings began immediately amongst the assembled crew, several gasping aloud in shock, other shifting nervously. Doc closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see this…

Cyclone’s useless wings sat broken and impotent at her sides, tied up with a wide red sash to stop them dragging. She’d insisted on keeping them, despite the Doctors recommendation of having them amputated, but she was a proud pegasus, one whom the crew had always respected for her bravery and loyalty to the ship, and she would endure this. She undid the sash, letting it fall off her, allowing her once beautiful wings to drape down like so much lifeless cloth. She cast a glance back at Gretel, before her eyes fixed on Stock. Slowly, she climbed into the rigging, allowing the crew to tie her hooves to the ropes.

Stock watched her in silence.

“Captain, we’re ready to begin” The Master at Arms said in her level tones.

Gretel nodded, “Begin”.

All eyes were on the pegasus mare as the first blow struck with a loud ‘crack’. She didn’t flinch.

“ONE!”

The yellow coated Master at Arms swung again,

“TWO!”

Again.

“THREE!”

This time, Cyclone’s eyelids fluttered as the lash struck across her back. Several of the crew looked away, but other leaned in, watching avidly.

“FOUR!”

Again, the last snaked out, and again. Time after time, mint green fur lifting from her back as the lash began to bite into the flesh below.

“TEN!”

Faintly, blood began to appear in stripes across her back, the red stains becoming increasingly brighter in the midday sunshine.

“ELEVEN!”

Cyclone let out a whimper of pain, tears starting to fill her eyes, but she kept her gaze fixed on Stock. She wouldn’t give in, she couldn’t, not now…not now!

“TWELVE!”

She bit back a cry. It hurt…goddesses, it hurt so much!

“THIRTEEN!”

The blows landed more and more, the sun beating down upon her head feeling like it was searing her flesh away as much as the lash was removing it. The world around her was beginning to swim and blur, the white hot agony of each stroke feeling like brands…like…those monsters…what they’d done…

“TWENTY!”

Darkness took her in its merciful embrace, drawing her away from the pain and suffering. The Master at Arms walked over to her and lifted her head,

“She’s passed out, Captain.”

Gretel nodded, “Bring her round”

A bucket of water was brought up and one of the crew doused Cyclones body from nose to tail, making her gasp and splutter in shock at the cold awakening. She blinked away the stinging water from her eyes and once again looked into the brown stallions eyes. If only once, if only he could see her for who she was, then maybe…maybe all this was worth the price.

“Stop!”

Everypony on deck fell silent and stared at the ships master as he rose from his makeshift desk,

“Captain, with your permission, I wish to invoke article eighty six of the ships regulations.”

Gretel stared at him in shock. Was he mad? Was he…? No…no, he wasn’t mad, he knew exactly what he was doing. She sighed inwardly; so did she.

“You know what that is, do you not Master Stock?” The Captain said calmly.

“Aye Captain.” The big stallion replied levelly, “Ships article eighty six states that a crewpony may voluntarily take the place of another undergoing punishment should they be unfit or otherwise unable to accept partial or full punishment.”

He didn’t even need to look at the book, did he? The bugger had planned this all along. Gretel nodded her head solemnly,

“Very well. Master at Arms, cut the prisoner down. Master Stock will take the remainder.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Chapter Twenty One - The Forgiveness of Steel

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

THE FORGIVENESS OF STEEL

It was getting dark early. The long Equestrian nights were drawing in and the temperature was beginning to drop steadily day by day, making camping out under the stars a bitterly cold and uncomfortable experience. As the world headed inexorably towards the long sleep of winter, a group of ponies huddled around the camp fire, pressing in as close as they dared to try and soak up what warm they could glean before the inevitable necessity of sleep forced them into their all too thin bedding. If any thought had been present when these items of camping equipment had been designed, it had been hopelessly inadequate.

Brink held his hooves near the fire, letting them get as hot as he dared and then stuffed them under his cloak to try and transfer some of the heat to the rest of his body. It didn’t help much, but it was a lot better than doing nothing. He was shivering incessantly, his teeth chattering so much his jaw had started aching. He stared into the campfire, watching the flickering yellow flames dancing above the orange of the glowing logs below. If nothing else, it gave the illusion of warmth, even if he wasn’t feeling it in his body. The worst part of this, Brink summised, was that if you drew closer to the fire, your front was warm, but your back was still freezing. Unless there was some way to rotate yourself to get a nice all round warmth, all he could do was stay here and shiver until morning.

He squeezed himself into a ball, tucking the cloak in tightly around himself. The pony beside him shifted, muttering something incomprehensible in his sleep. Brink closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to Celestia. It was pointless, he knew; she’d never forgive him. As powerful and merciful as she was, for what he’d done, for what they’d done…there could be no forgiveness. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes; there was no point in trying to sleep now, it would be his time to stand watch soon, and besides, he’d drunk so much rum earlier he could feel his bladder reaching bursting point.

The soldier shuddered, his mind rewinding back to the events at the farmhouse. Again and again and again, he couldn’t stop seeing it! Why wouldn’t it stop! Dear Celestia, it wasn’t meant to have happened like that! How the hell had that happened? They were supposed to just kill the traitor weren’t they? That was what he’d been told, but then Sela, that bloody impulsive idiot, hadn’t wanted to stake out the house had he? Of course not! And the next thing they all knew, the imbecile had bucked in the door. The mare had tried to protect her foals, refusing to tell the soldiers where her husband was, and that was when the whole mission went to rat crap. That stupid, stupid creature!

Brink took another swig of the rum and lit his pipe. The sweet smoke rolled around his mouth and he drew it in, trying to feel some warmth, even the tiniest bit. Since that day though he’d never felt warm again. Whether it was all in his mind, his body, or his heart, he had no idea, but he sure as hell didn’t want to think about it. He’d joined Ochre’s regiment for a nice, cushy, and rather lucrative ride up until retirement; not this! Freezing your nuts off on a goddess forsaken hillside, with the blood of children on your hooves was like something from his worst nightmares. He’d tried to wash it off of course, he’d tried again and again and again, but no matter how much he scrubbed, there always seemed to be some left. Damn it all, he couldn’t stop hearing their screams...how they’d cried for their mother when Sela had run her through, the look on the little filly’s face when Dangle impaled her on his sword. And then…and then the little black foal…he’d charged him with a kitchen knife…a kitchen knife! Goddesses forgive him, he could still feel the impact of his sword into the supple little foal’s body, the way the warm blood had run down his blade onto his hoof.

Brink squeezed his eyes shut, a slight whimper escaping his mouth. He couldn’t believe it had happened, any of it. The others…the others had enjoyed it, or some of them anyway. He couldn’t watch, not what they did. All he did was steal the rum and a pocket watch, but even that felt like lead in his pack somehow. Brink rubbed his forelegs together, blowing on them to try and stave off the bitterness of the night. He was worried too. His orders had been to kill Dray, but they’d failed, and spectacularly. They could have waited for him, he’d even suggested it himself, but the others, shocked at the carnage they’d created, panicked and ran. Some bloody soldiers they were: murders of mares and foals…cowards…They’d have to think of something to tell Ochre. Either that or disappear into the country and start a new life somewhere, somewhere he could…

He looked down at the grey foreleg, the knife held to his throat…he swallowed.

“Who gave the order” the voice behind him said quietly.

Brink could feel his heart beating like a drum in his chest, he could smell the breath of the pony behind him…damn it! He knew they should have…

“Last time…”

“It was Ochre!” Brink hissed, trying to pull back from the knife blade, “We were supposed to kill you, not your family! It was a mistake!”

“A mistake”

“Yes! Dear Celestia…I’m sorry! The others, Sela, he…the mare tried to stab him and…” he gasped out a breath, “I’m sorry…”

“So am I”

The knife moved away from Brinks’ throat and he shuddered out a breath. Goddesses! He thought he was going to…

He looked down at the tip of the blade protruding from his chest, a small crimson trickle of blood rolling down it and dripping onto the ground. Brink stared up towards the sky, the darkness above feeling as if it were drawing him to it, the souls of those who had gone before calling to him. A tear came to his eye as his body slumped to the ground. The words formed on his lips, the last he would utter in this world,

“Celestia…forgive me…”

Dray placed his hoof on the still warm corpse and pulled his blade free. Flicking the blood off it, he neatly replaced it in its scabbard and recovered his rum and pocket watch,

“Celestia may forgive you” he said quietly, placing his watch in his overcoat pocket, “But I won’t…not as long as I draw breath.” He walked away into the night, past the cloak covered corpses ringing the campfire, “There will be no forgiveness.”

There was a click behind him, and he smiled. So…there was one more after all, was there? Dray snorted out a laugh,

“Went for a piss?”

The soldier’s voice was quavering, the fear almost palpable,

“Yeah…” the soldier replied, “Sorry about this Colonel, but its orders.”

Dray’s muscled tensed, ready to spring into action, but at this range the pony had the drop on him. Mentally, he kicked himself; he must be getting old,

“Do what you have to do soldier.”

Silence.

Seconds dragged by. Wasn’t the boy going to shoot? He took a breath and turned round, coming face to face with the young stallion who was staring at him wide eyed, the blood slick head of a crossbow bolt protruding from his throat. Dray shook his head,

“Never talk when you can act, boy.” The young soldier’s eyes rolled up into his head and he fell forward, dead. Dray reached down and closed the stallion’s eyes, “The lesson came a little late for you though.”

Across the hillside, dark shadows flitted, dodging from tree to tree, with a number of them heading straight for him. The central one slowed and walked forward confidently while the other two flowed past Dray like ghosts. The Colonel nodded to the newcomer,

“Good evening Major”

The red mare threw back the cowl of her cloak,

“You’re getting slow, you old fart. That fellow had you stone cold.”

Dray shook his head, “Perhaps…” he turned to the ponies checking the ones by the fire, “They’re dead. There’s another two out by the edge of the tree line.” He glanced back at the Major, “They’re dead too.”

“Missed the party eh?” She said raising an eyebrow.

“Hmph” The Colonel snorted, “You could say that.”

Wild cleared her throat, “Sir…Dray…one of our scouts told us that your...”

Dray’s tail lashed, his ears twitching but his voice never changed its tone, “I know Major.” He paused, “Did your scout mention anything about any other ponies nearby?”

“Not really.” She replied, “There’s a few farms here and there, and an old dear with her son working the next farm over, but no sign of the Legion or any more of Ochre’s goons.”

The Colonel began walking back to the fire. Good, at least Fair Breeze was keeping Cove under close supervision. That young stallion had an old head on his shoulders, and if he took to life as a farm pony, he just might keep it too.

“I’m so sorry, Colonel.” Major Wild said quietly, “I knew he would be angry over you using the royal guard in battle, but I had no idea he would do something…like that.”

“Mmm” Dray sank down to his haunches by the fire. The others had already dragged the bodies away and were bringing fresh firewood. He shook out his cloak and turned to the Major, “Why are you here?” he asked levelly, “Why aren’t you with the army, Major, they need you.”

“So do you!” Wild snapped back, “I…” she took a deep breath, collecting her thoughts, “Sir, you don’t know what’s happened since you left.”

Dray stoked the fire with a long thin stick,

“Go on.”

Wild shook her head solemnly,

“Ochre’s dismissed all the officers; myself, Spoon, Weald, Sands, even poor Chipper.”

There was a blast of frigid air as a pair of purple forelegs were cheekily draped over their respective necks,

“Don’t forget me!” Harrier chuckled, “I got bucked off the team too, y’know!”

Despite himself, Dray couldn’t help but smile. ‘The goddesses gave and the goddesses took away’ eh? He had to wonder at that old line; maybe there was some truth in it after all. A soft rumble of hooves announced the arrival of another cloaked pony,

“Excuse me, Major Wild, I wish to report that the surrounding area appears to be clear of the enemy. Living ones, that is.”

Drays ear twitched as he looked round into the face of his aide-de-camp,

“Good evening Colonel”

“Chipper…” Dray reached out and clopped the old soldier on the shoulder, “Its good to see you again my friend.”

“And you sir.” Chipper smiled, “I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of bringing along the items you so kindly left for us on your last day at camp. I note however, that you already appear to have a sword?”

Dray nodded, “You can keep that one if you like” he tapped his fathers old blade, “I’ve got a perfectly serviceable sword here already.”

“My goodness!” Chipper beamed, “Thank you Colonel, I assure you I will keep this safe…just in case you ever wish to have it back.”

Dray rolled his eyes. Chipper never changed.

“Oh!” The stallion announced, holding up a hoof, “I nearly forgot!” he took off his pannier and produced two bottles of brandy and a set of collapsible camping shot cups, “I believe it is customary, when one is re-united with friends, to drink a toast, is it not?”

Even if the pain was still fresh, the memories agonisingly vivid, for a moment at least, the company of friends dulled the ache in Dray’s heart. He took the cup in his hooves and looked up into the expectant eyes of his old command, and the cheeky wink from that bloody pegasus! Dray lifted his cup,

“To old friends, re-united.”

The three ponies raised their cups, “Old friends!”

Building the fire up, the ponies sat together on the dark hillside sharing the warming brandy. More soldiers arrived shortly afterwards, including several pulling small carts laden with supplies. In short order, extra blankets were being issued and food passed around. Dray closed his eyes and listened to the familiar sounds - maybe…maybe this was where he belonged after all; the field beneath his hooves and the stars above. He felt somepony bump up against him and give him a nudge,

“Sorry, Colonel, we’ve all had to shift round to make room for everypony.” Wild’s voice sounded a little uncertain, “You don’t mind do you? I’ll move if it…”

Dray shook his head, “No, Major, of course not.”

In some ways he felt numb; the cold, the emptiness in his heart, the keening pain that he let fill him. He’d lost many ponies he’d called friends in his life, held them as they succumbed to wounds, watched the light of life in their eyes wink out leaving only the empty husk that had once been a living, breathing creature like him. Soldiers were no strangers to death, but your family, your wife, your children, that was something sacred and precious. They were…special, in so many ways.

The mare beside him was warm, her body heat shared with his, even through the layers of clothing. In some ways he wanted to be left alone, to be the death in the night that was coming for Lord Ochre. But that could wait for another day. He looked up at the sky and the large moon hanging there like some celestial lantern.

“You look deep in thought” Wild said quietly.

“Just thinking” Dray replied, “How long until the next full moon, do you think?”

“Well…” The red mare said peering up into the night sky, “It’s a waxing crescent, so” She scratched her chin thoughtfully, “I would say we have about two weeks, give or take a few days. Why?”

“I have an appointment to keep.”

Something soft pushed up against his other side, a big pair of magenta eyes above a beaming grin and a mass of snow white mane loomed in his vision. Harrier always seemed so…energetic,

“Care to share?” she asked with a toothy smile.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Dray said quietly, “Honestly, I’m not sure what to think of it myself.”

“Oh come on!” Harrier announced waving her forehooves in the air, “You can’t just leave it like that!”

Wild leaned forward, “She’s right, Dray. We’re your friends, and friends trust one another.”

Dray snorted, “I met somepony.” He stared into the fire, watching the flames dance above the crackling wood beneath, “A pony who told me to go to a particular place...to find something, or maybe even somepony, i’m not sure.”

Wild rubbed her forelegs together, snugging her cloak in around herself,

“So,” she asked, “where is this place?”

The Colonel shrugged, “The high point of the forest near River Valley, by the next full moon.”

The Major’s eyes went wide,

“Tell me you’re joking, Dray! By the goddesses, what the hell’s there? Other than…”

“-Corpses and memories” The Colonel finished for her, “I know, Heather. But…there was something about her. Something in the way she spoke.” Dray lifted up a stick and poked the fire, encouraging a little more heat from it, “She offered me…all of us, something that I thought we’d lost at River Valley. Maybe even before.”

Wild scrubbed her mane, curiosity getting the better of her,

“What’s that then?”

Dray smiled drily, “Hope.”

“Pfff!” Harrier snorted, “Not a problem! I’ll fly over there, find this…whatever it is…and bring it back, done and done!”

“No.” Dray shook his head, “I’m going. Alone. I won’t risk anypony else in this, it’s too dangerous.”

“Like bollocks you are!” Wild snapped, leaning forward and jabbing him with a hoof, “We came here looking for you because you’re our friend, and also because you, Dray, are our hope.” She swung her foreleg around, taking in all the ponies watching them, “These soldiers, Equestrians, all of us, we’re here because we trust you and believe in you. We love you, Colonel, every single pony here does. You see that…don’t you?”

Dray’s heart fluttered, a tiny stirring that was like the fanning of dead ashes, desperately trying to find a single spark, to find that one glowing ember that could reignite the fire. He shuddered, but not from the cold; it was the anticipation, the hopeful gazes, the light in every pony’s eyes. Goddesses…so many had died, so many had been killed…and for what? He’d lost his wife, his foals, and yet…and yet if he did nothing, if he abandoned these ponies, would the horror of what happened to him be visited upon them? What if Ochre intended for more victims? To murder any and all who had any connection to him at all? He closed his eyes,

“Harrier?”

“Yeah?”

“Find out the names and addresses of all the immediate families of the ponies here. Get messages to them to move away, anywhere just to…”

She held up a sleek foreleg and smirked,

“Way ahead of you there, Colonel”

“That was the first thing we did” Wild agreed, “We’d heard awful rumours about what was happening in the capital. We didn’t want to take the chance, especially as Ochre knows damned well where our loyalties lie.”

Dray shook his head, “Your loyalties should be to Equestria, all of you, not some beat up old stallion.” He snorted, “What the hell can I do? Look at me! My family was murdered, butchered by those…those filthy, evil animals, and I couldn’t stop it! I wasn’t there! Don’t you understand? I’m not who you think I am! I…I’m not…”

Grief, cold as the first snows of winter, suddenly crashed in on the grey stallion, drowning him in its empty embrace. Honey, Dawn Dew, Polo…they were gone! He’d never see them again, never hold them again…he took a breath and coughed it out as the horrible realisation of how helpless he felt right then pulled him under. He hid his face in his hooves and wept. Tears flooded from his eyes, soaking his forelegs as the thin walls he’d tried to erect around his heart, fell like a deck of cards.

Forelegs, soft and warm, reached out to him and drew him into a loving embrace as he shook. Hooves stroked his mane, whispering to him how it would be all right, how they would be together again…one day. Dray leaned his head against the red mare, his friend for so many years, and cried his pain out to the world. Around him, the ponies sat quietly. Many of them had lost somepony; friends, lovers, family. Watching their Colonel, seeing him like that, exposed and in pain, they shared in his sorrow, his suffering. Some day, all this would be little more than a memory. Someday, they would bring back the light to their home and bring back hope for a brighter future for all ponies. But for now, for this night, they shared their hearts with their friends…they would remember…

Chapter Twenty Two - What it means to be a friend

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A FRIEND

Bracken bounced along in the back of the cart like a sack of potatoes, his forelegs and hindlegs tightly bound and his muzzle gagged. The rats had even put something over his head so he couldn’t see. Not that there actually was much to see, since he was buried under a huge pile of straw, and not even very nice smelling straw either. The bloody thing stank to high heaven! He’d tried to ask them who they were, where he was being taken, but his answer had been in the form of a black eye and a bruised jaw. ‘Nice guys!’ He thought to himself sarcastically.

They’d been lurching along for what felt like days. Occasionally, his captors remembered to feed him, water him and even let him out to relieve himself a few times. His legs though were killing him; the constant jarring of the un-sprung wagon adding to additional bruises and aches to the point where he would have given anything just to be allowed out for a five minute walk and a stretch. No such luck though, these characters, a mix of ponies and griffins, were about as conversational and thoughtful as a rock. In fact, they barely spoke to one another let alone him, leaving him with little to pass the time other than listening to the rattling and banging of the cart.

The cloaked creatures had whisked him away into the night so fast he’d barely had time to fully take in what was going on. So much for being the hero! He was now so pummelled and bashed, he’d make a lovely pre-tenderised meal for one those bloody griffins. Fortunately, it was unlikely he was being kidnapped for use as a snack…he hoped. All he’d really been able to fix his mind on was trying to get away, to find some possibility of getting out of these bonds and making a run for it. But these guys had wings, didn’t they? Griffins weren’t that fast of course, but in his condition, a rapid hobble was probably all he was going to be likely to achieve, that and target practice for the crossbow wielding abductors who would be no doubt be on him in seconds.

Gradually, the cart began to slow. With any luck they’d haul him out for a toilet break, and not before time either, he was beginning to feel distinctly uncomfortable. Bracken’s ruminations were suddenly interrupted by the sounds of voices raised in heated conversation. His ears twitched as he tried to hear what was being said, but through the damp straw it was difficult to hear much at all. Snippets came to him every now and again, but if he strained, he could make out parts of a conversation. There appeared to be two of them; the griffin and the pony from Pickles’ house,

“… from the east, leads to this bridge here and…

“No it doesn’t, you’re not reading it right! The…”

“…Mountain road to the north is all uphill, if you want to pull that bloody thing all…”

The voices gradually died away and the wagon lurched forward once again. Damn it! He’d have to just hang on, either that or go where he was, but it already stank enough in here as it was without adding even more discomfort to it. As the bouncing continued however, he tried to think of something…anything, that would distract him from the dire situation he found himself in. He thought of his family; how was dad doing with the metal working business? Was mum still angry at him for the whole ‘leaving to join the army’ business? How was Chalky’s mum doing? He sighed; none of it was working, all he could think of was a sea green coat, and…a black and white dress, her beautiful pink two tone mane and soft lips pressed against his. Bracken groaned. This wasn’t the time for thinking about things like that! Now, with his increasing desperation to go to the toilet, or nearest convenient tree, he was feeling more uncomfortable than ever before. Goddesses, if he ever got a chance to go one on one with these scum bags for putting him through this, he’d show them what being battered and bruised really felt like!

Time passed agonisingly slowly, the occasional pothole adding a delightful little accent to the now repetitive jarring. Bracken’s head felt it was going to explode, like his bladder; any minute now, his living space was going to be flooded and somehow he doubted his kindly hosts would be that bothered about cleaning up after him.

The cart’s motion suddenly halted.

“Right you, come on, out you come.” A bird like claw reached in and grabbed the rope binding his hind legs and pulled him hard. It would have been nice to have said he slid out, but in reality, his hide grated along the rough wooden planking mixed with the sodden and filthy straw. The ultimate effect was like a massive cheese grater, making Bracken gasp in pain. Unceremoniously, he was dumped onto the ground behind the wagon and left there while the griffin walked off to talk to one of the others. From what he could gather, apparently a tree had partially blocked the road ahead. It wasn’t bad, and they could get around it, but one of them wasn’t happy…

“We put him back in the cart I say, then, we pull the cart round. Easy.”

“You do that, and the bloody thing’ll slide down into the ravine and it’s goodbye bounty. You want to buck around with somebody else’s cash cow friend, then be my guest. This guy can bloody well walk on his own four hooves.”

“What if it’s an ambush?”

“An ambush? What the hells wrong with you?! You been reading too many adventure novels? Who’s going to ambush us?”

“He’s valuable to our client though, isn’t he? If that’s the case then somepony would probably want him back.”

“Yeah? Who? A bunch of scabrous whores?”

Several laughed.

“Tell you what, we’ll all be on our guard, okay? Will that make you happy?”

Silence.

One of the party walked up to Bracken and hauled him to his hooves, the rough handling causing him to groan loudly at the rough pulling. He huddled up as his bladder ached painfully.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” The griffin snapped angrily.

“It’s my guts,” Bracken gasped, “I need to go…badly.”

“Oh for…”

Another walked up, their voice as irritable as the first,

“What’s going on?”

“Says his guts are playing up. Needs a piss.” The first griffin replied.

The second one began walking away, “Then take him to the bushes over then and watch him while we shift this bloody tree.”

Bracken felt something hit him in the stomach making him gasp in pain,

“Get up then, come on! If you want a piss, then shift your arse.”

The black pony shook his head, “Where to? I can’t damned well see a bloody thing with this sodding bag on my head!”

A claw suddenly grabbed one of his ears through the sack and yanked him forwards without another word. The ropes had been loosened around his legs, but only barely; he could do little more than hobble from the hard rutted mud road to the grass beside it. A short way in, the griffin gave him a yank,

“Right, do what you have to do, and be quick about it.”

Bracken huffed out a breath, trying to get some air into the confines of the sack over his head. The taste alone of the rough fabric in his mouth was making his throat dry and scratchy,

“How about removing the bag, friend?”

The griffin’s screeching voice snapped back irritably, “You don’t need to see, just get on with it will you.”

Bracken shifted uncomfortably, biting back the reply he was going to give. That bloody feathered…lion like…thing! He settled down in a bush, hoping he had at least some modicum of self respect left, and relaxed. Bracken sighed loudly, the warm feeling of his muscles relaxing felt so good…

A few moments later he heard a thump and branches snapping. The bloody creature was coming back already!

“For the goddesses sake, give me a minute will you!” Bracken hissed, “I’ll just be a second, bloody hell fire, you can even go for a piss in peace…”

“Then you shouldn’t drink so much then should you! Now shut and keep quiet.”

That voice was new…and familiar somehow. Bracken felt something tugging at the ropes on his hind legs, then his front a moment later. Suddenly the sack was yanked from his head and light slammed into his eyes with an intensity that was like staring directly into the sun. He yelped and flung his foreleg over his eyes. Wait…his foreleg? He could move! Good goddesses! The voice! It was…

“Brack, can you see okay?”

“Chalky!” Bracken’s voice was nearly breaking with the rush of thoughts and emotions, “What’s…no, no I can’t, it’s too bright.”

“Damn it! Right then, grab hold of this…” Chalk pushed a length of rope into his friend’s mouth, “Now shift your carcass soldier!”

The black stallion didn’t argue and sure as hell wasn’t going to hang around either. He went to move, but his muscles, aching from days of battering and confinement, screamed in protest, failing him when he needed them most. He cursed them silently, pushing as hard as he could, but it was obvious from Chalky’s pulling that he was slow, far, far too slow. At this rate he would get them killed…both of them.

Chalk rushed back, “What’s up? Come on Brack, we have to move!”

“I…I can’t,” Bracken gasped, “it’s my legs. The bastards have had me tied up for days. Chalky, look, don’t…”

“If you say any more, you idiot, I’ll do for you myself!” Chalk hissed, “Right, down here, and keep quiet, alright? Not a bloody sound out of you.”

Bracken blinked furiously, trying desperately to get his eyes to clear and allow him to focus, but it was painfully slow progress and in more ways than one. Who could have thought that light would feel as if it were burning its way through your eyes? His muscles still ached too, the confinement and vibration must have done more damage than he’d thought, and now he’d become a liability to his friend. He rubbed his eyes and worked his legs as much as he could without making any overt movement or sound. All the while, his ears strained to pick up any noises around him.

They soon came.

Somepony came rushing up through the bushes, keeping low to the ground. It was Chalky,

“Brack, you okay to move?”

“I think so,” he replied, “lets...HELL!”

A screeching cry made Bracken roll instinctively out of the way as a curved sword hissed down, missing him by mere inches. Chalk dodged away and swung what looked like some sort of sword, up through the griffin’s chest and out through its neck. A spray of crimson and purple gore spattered warmly across Bracken’s face. Almost as fast as the first had appeared, a pony barrelled into them, kicking Chalk’s weapon away and trying to disembowel him with its own. The two grappled, Chalk desperately trying to break away from the brutal attack.

Pushing himself free of the melee, Bracken’s hoof caught against something hard and wooden. His heart leaping, he pulled at the thing and dragged it from the brambles and undergrowth that snagged at it. Nearby Chalk and the cloaked pony were rolling on the ground until, with a sickeningly heavy crack, the larger creature delivered a stunning blow to the white unicorn’s head. Cursing, the pony sat up, raising a dagger in both hooves and prepared to deliver the final blow. Chalk’s horn began to glow, but it was too late…the dagger fell.

Bracken was already pulling what gear he could from the dead griffin and reloading the crossbow. Chalk lay back beside him, his chest heaving. His eyes were fixed on the dagger stuck in the ground beside his head, the still body of his assailant half lying across him. Bracken hurried over, helping to pull the dead pony off his friend,

“Any more of them?”

“I make that four” Chalk gasped trying to get his breath back, “There was one guarding you, one that wandered back to the wagon.” He wiped his face with his foreleg and took a swig of water from his canteen before passing it to Bracken, “The other two were moving that tree. I guess they must have heard me.” Chalk laughed, “I’m losing my touch, eh?”

Bracken hoof bumped his friend,

“You’ll do for me, you bloody pirate.”

Chalk sat up, collecting his gear,

“Not any more. By now the ship will have gone and…well, let’s say the Captain and I had a difference of opinion.”

Bracken paused, staring up at his friend,

“Oh no, Chalky, I’m sorry dude, I thought you and Gretel were…”

“-Yeah.” Chalk said nonchalantly pocketing the bits he’d found on the dead pony, “So did I.” He peered down the slight incline to the cart, “Let’s see what we can scavenge and get the hell out of here, eh?”

Bracken nodded, “I’ll second that. Any idea where we are?”

“Way ahead of you there, buddy.” Chalk said tapping his pannier, “Yours truly has a map showing us the way home.”

“Home?” Bracken asked in surprise.

Chalk smiled, “Home. Wellford Springs, where we should have bloody well stayed and spent our lives as we were meant to - as craftsponies.” He rammed his sword home into its scabbard, “Nopony trying to kill you at every turn, no running for your bloody life all the time and best of all, no sodding, confusing, bloody mares!”

Bracken shook his head. So that was it was it? He’d had a falling out with the red coated Captain of that flying tub. As much as Bracken was glad to see the back of that lot, it was still painfully clear that Chalky was hopelessly besotted with her, maybe even in love with the larger than life mare, but there was something in his friends voice that suggested he was far from convinced he was better off without her. Bracken gave his mane a shake, that simple act feeling so good, it made him begin to feel more alive, more…like a pony. He nodded to his friend,

“We’ll talk more later, Chalky. For now, I want to get the hell out of here in case any more of this lot pop up out of the woodwork.”

Chalk harrumphed, “I couldn’t agree more.”

The two set off, striking up through the forest to what Chalk assured him would be the road that would take them, if they made good time, to the Foalsom River estuary. From there, they should be able to hire a boat to Drakestown and from there a couple of days trot to Wellford Springs. Bracken shouldered the makeshift pack. The ponies and griffins had been well equipped, and had a decent amount of bits on them too. It would certainly be enough to get them home and see them fed and watered on the way. What was niggling at the back of his mind though, was the speed and efficiency with which Chalk had dispatched his kidnappers, not to mention how he’d tracked him. He thought back to River Valley, the fighting with the thestrals, those minotaurs, how he’d thrown himself at them as if his life meant nothing. Dear goddesses, had life since leaving home changed them both that much? Chalk glanced back at him over his shoulder,

“You alright, dude? Hows the old legs holding up?”

“Damned sight better since being able to use them again. Bloody hell, Chalky, those rats just threw me in the back of that cart under a pile of crap.” He scratched his chin in thought for a moment, “in fact I think that’s exactly what it was, and they just left me there. You know, I still don’t even know who they were or why they snatched me.”

“Don’t ask me.” Chalk shrugged, “They weren’t very talkative.”

“Not after you filleted them, no!” Bracken laughed.

The white unicorn prodded his friend in the shoulder,

“You shot that one in the bloody head!”

Bracken snorted, waving a hoof, “Luck.”

“Huh!” Chalk sniffed, “Lucky for me, then.”

The two of them pushed on through the forest, following the large brass compass which the plucky unicorn fished out from his pack. He flicked the lid open on it from time to time, checking his bearing and nodded to himself as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“When did you get so good with maps?” Bracken asked him, “I don’t remember you ever showing much interest in training”.

“I’ve always had an interest in cartography.” Chalky replied as if it were self evident, “I just didn’t like talking about it. You know, a bit ‘stuffy’ and all that.” He blushed a little, “I used to read dad’s old books that he left behind. Mum threw them out but I found them outside and snuck them into my room. I suppose I liked the pictures really, you know, like the ones of foreign lands, strange creatures and all that kind of stuff. Silly eh?”

Bracken shook his head,

“No. Not at all.” They walked on for a while longer before the urge to ask was too great, “Chalky…Did you know much about your dad?”

“Nah.” The unicorn replied, “Don’t really remember him to be honest, can’t even remember what colour he was. Mum got rid of anything that reminded her of him. After a while it was like he’d never existed.”

“You never ask her?”

“Maybe a couple of times, or just in passing.” Chalk shook his mane, his ears drooping slightly, “She always fobbed me off when I asked. She was either ‘Too busy’, or ‘Ask me later’. Of course, ‘later’ never came and if I did ask again I was told I was ‘midering’.” He snorted, “’Course, sooner or later I just gave up asking. I wasn’t that bothered I suppose, because I never really knew the guy. His books were pretty cool though.”

“What happened to them?” Bracken asked.

Chalk shrugged, “The books? Oh, probably long gone. I hid them in the loft before we left, but mum’s more than likely had one of her massive clearouts and they’ve gone the journey. You know how mares are.”

“Nope!” Bracken chuckled, “Can’t say I do and I doubt I ever will.”

Chalk gave him a nudge, “Hold that thought my friend.” He stopped and looked about himself at the small clearing, “Looks like a good place to spend the night. It’s coming in faster all the time.”

Bracken nodded. He’d been so busy putting one hoof in front of the other and trying to put as much distance between the scene of his rescue and themselves, that he hadn’t noticed the drop in daylight and accompanying temperature. Now he thought about it, it was really starting to get cold.

The hills in this part of Equestria were thickly wooded and they’d not seen hide nor hair of anything resembling a ‘road’ since leaving the cart. Bracken didn’t want to say it, but he had the distinct impression they were lost, and Chalky, the occasionally over confident fellow that he was, would probably just keep plodding on until they eventually got ‘somewhere’. He sighed. It wasn’t like they were in any rush to get anywhere was it? After all, the army probably thought they were deserters, and…oh goddesses…was that who’d kidnapped him? Army agents?

Chalk Dust soon had a low fire burning, using dry wood to keep the smoke down as much as he could. It was an old forester’s trick, one which their army field instructor had been keen to teach, and Bracken equally keen to learn. As it turned out, it was just as well he had been paying attention in class. He took out some provisions for them both and quickly set about cooking them up in the mess tins.

Yawning expansively, Chalk plopped himself down by the fire and passed his friend a shot cup of the wine he’d found in one of his panniers. He spared a thought for the indigo stallion, Strata. He owed him his life, and maybe to some degree, Bracken’s too.

“Hey Brack, look,” he said scratching his ear idly, “I know it may be a bit soon, so tell me to shut up if it is. But…what happened with that mare? You know, Fickles, Pickles or whatever her name was.”

“Pickles.” Bracken said, snuggling himself down by the fire, “She’s quite the mare.”

“Oooh!” Chalk sniggered, “She had ‘quite’ the thing for you too I reckon.”

“Huh, like bollocks she did. I was just another lay.” Bracken snorted.

Chalk’s eyes went wide, “The madam?”

“Aye”

“The owner who saved our lives?”

“Aye”

Chalk shook his head in amazement, “She kicked me out and then you and she…?”

Bracken shot the inquisitive unicorn a look,

“You’re not the only stallion in the world that girls find attractive you know. Bloody hell, Chalky, do you really think I look that bad? What is it? My coat, my mane, what?”

Chalk held up a hoof, “Steady on dude, I didn’t mean any offence. I was just asking because she was so…I don’t know…not beautiful in the sense of, y’know…’Phwoar! Look at her!’ beauty, but she had a certain…” he waved a hoof, “Mystical elegance”.

“Mystical elegance” Bracken said slowly. He shook his head, “Mystical…elegance”.

“Alright! Don’t labour the point!” The white unicorn complained, “Look, I didn’t mean that she was out of your league, just that it looked like she ‘like’ liked you.” He scratched his head furiously, “Oh, I don’t know what I’m trying to say! I give up.”

Bracken lay down, polishing off his travel biscuit and pie. He tried not to think too much about what was in it, but Chalk assured him it wasn’t meat. Shoving his pack under his head as a pillow the earth pony stallion sighed, looking up at the sky far above them. The stars were starting to come out now. He wondered if she would be looking up at them too, thinking of him…

“Chalky?” he asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“What’s it like to be in love?”

Bracken heard Chalk shifting around in his bedding and the long sigh he let out before answering. He turned over and stared into the fire, his eyes glistening in the yellow glow as he stared at a silver pocket watch, the one Bracken had seen him taking off one of the griffins,

“It’s a pain in the arse, Brack” Chalk said quietly, “A real pain in the arse.”

***********************

The forest came and went, the land gradually beginning to show evidence of cultivation as they walked on. The ‘road’ that Chalky had pointed out on the map had, much to Bracken’s embarrassment, actually existed after all and they’d ended up following it for days. Unfortunately, it seemed that in Equestria, nopony seemed to think that building roads in straight lines was a good idea, and perish the thought of actually say, for example, paving the things! The worst of it though was the rain that turned the muddy road into a sticking, gloopy mess that sucked at your hooves and splashed up onto your fur. One of the first things Bracken did when getting the camp set up was to get the water boiling for a wash before the bloody stuff dried. Fortunately, it looked like their uncomfortable days on the road would soon be coming to an end. According to their map at least, they weren’t far from the Foalsom River estuary and that was where they’d most likely find a boat to take them upriver. Best of all, finding the river meant they were a lot nearer to home.

Chalk leaned his pack against a tree and took out a small cloth bag tied up with string and laid his sword beside it. The cleaning kit he produced looked fairly standard, but the sword…now that was a different matter altogether. Bracken stared at it in wonder,

“I can’t believe somepony just gave you that” he said shaking his head in wonder, “It looks like it’s worth a fortune.”

Chalk gave a wry smile, slipping the sword free of its scabbard, “I can’t believe it myself. Strata is some pony.” He shrugged, “Not too keen on earth ponies though; surprised me that.”

“What's his problem with earth ponies?” Bracken asked.

Chalk shrugged, “Thinks you’re all a bit thick.”

“Wha…?!” Bracken jumped to his hooves, “Now just a bloody minute!”

Chalk help up his hoof, “I didn’t say I agreed with him, you daft bugger. He just has a bit of a funny view of the world, that’s all.” He furrowed his brow in thought, “A very funny view actually.”

“Yeah! One full of ‘thicko’ earth ponies apparently” Bracken said angrily, “If I meet him I’ll stuff that fancy sword so far up his arse, he’ll look like a kebab.”

Chalk ran a cloth down the ancient sword, smiling as its blade seemed to change colour in the firelight. “He’s not the only unicorn with funny ideals” he explained matter-of-factly, “There's quite a few who think like that, they just don’t come right out and say it.”

“Huh! What happens when a unicorn and an earth pony have a foal then?” Bracken asked rolling his eyes, “They could have either. One couple I know even had a pegasus! What then? Are the parents disappointed because the foal doesn’t have…’Mystical Elegance’”

“Oh, shut up about that!” Chalk snapped, “You know what I meant, and I know the couple you mean too. We all know about Bun’s extra marital activities, they were the villages worst kept secret!” he slipped the sword back into its scabbard and leaned it carefully up against his pack, “I don’t think it’s any surprise that eleven months after that pegasus ‘travelling salepony’ left town that Mrs Bun ends up with a little ‘bun’ of her own, and low-and-behold, it’s a pegasus!”

“I never saw many pegasi” Bracken said absently, “Only the old buggers in the village, and the Bun’s left town after their foal was born. The only other pegasi I’ve ever seen where those smart arses at the barracks, and even they had their own areas.”

“Makes you wonder if things really were resolved after the wars of the three tribes ended, eh?” Chalk reasoned.

Bracken nodded quietly, “Yeah.”

The cicadas were out tonight, their lonely refrain echoing out around them. Occasionally the cry of a fox or some other woodland creature would call out to its fellow, the plaintive sound strangely chilling to those unused to it. Out in the wild the nights, it seemed, were just as alive as the daytime, but here by the fire they felt safe, or as safe as they could be.

Chalk took out his silver pocket watch and stared at it, turning it over and over in his hooves. He sighed,

“I miss her, Brack.”

Bracken, half nodding off, opened his eyes, “Who?”

“Gretel” Chalky said quietly, “I keep thinking about her. About her fur, about how soft and warm she is. Her mane’s like spun gold, a waterfall of golden light that flows down beside her neck.” He pulled his bedding up around himself, keeping his sword close to hoof, “Her tail’s not very long, but I can live with that. But you know, it’s her eyes that really get me; they shine, not just with life, but with intelligence, you know? She’s got a mind like a razor, Brack, and that…that’s one of the most wonderful things about her.”

“Sounds like you really like her.” Bracken said, thoughtfully.

“I…I love her Brack.”

Bracken smiled at his friend, “Does she know?”

Chalk nodded, “Yeah. I told her.”

“How did she react?”

“I don’t really know. We…that is, she knew we’d been to Madam Pickles’ after I promised not to go there.” Chalk sniffed, “She thought Pickles had, or one of her girls and I had…you know…done something.”

Bracken’s ears twitched as he heard his friend pour out his heart,

“Did you tell her what really happened?”

“Of course I did!” Chalk replied anxiously, “Well, I tried to, but she wouldn’t listen! She just flew at me in a rage and told me to get out.”

“And?”

Chalks voice dropped to a near whisper, “Then I stormed off the ship and those goons jumped me.”

“Oh goddesses, Chalky.” Bracken face hoofed, “Why the hell didn’t you go back to the ship after Strata patched you up?”

“I couldn’t leave you!” Chalk exclaimed, “Bloody hell, Bracken, would you have left me if you’d been in my shoes?”

“No.”

“Well there you go then!” The white unicorn nodded to himself knowingly.

Bracken groaned. Why did things always seem to end up like this? “Look Chalky, if she’s half the mare you say she is, she’ll forgive you once you explain things to her.”

Chalk snorted derisively, “And just how am I supposed to do that eh? The ships gone and you may not have noticed, but Equestria’s not exactly overflowing with flying bloody galleons!”

Bracken said nothing. His friend was angrily pulling his bedding around himself and snorting loudly. A few minutes later, Chalk’s voice drifted over to him, the earlier edge to it now softened,

“Brack…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout like that, I’m such a dick sometimes.”

“Yes! You bloody well are!” Bracken chuckled, “But you’re my best friend, Mister Dust, and the nearest to a brother I’ll ever have.”

“You too dude” Chalk smiled, “You too.” He paused, “You want to tell me about your girl?”

“My girl? You mean Pickles?”

“Mmhmm.” Chalk replied snuggling into his blanket, “She was really something.”

“Oh yeah” Bracken said quietly, “She’s something…elegant, sophisticated, and a mare who knows her own mind.”

“She sure knows how to dress well” Chalk observed.

“She does,” The black stallion replied smiling to himself. He recalled the image of the dress slipping from her as she stepped from it towards him, her beautiful eyes drawing him in as her soft lips met his, her forelegs gently embracing him…he could feel his heart racing. “Goodnight, Chalky.”

“Yeah…goodnight, dude.”

Bracken lay in his bedding, tossing and turning uncomfortably. It was bad enough he was outside without even a tent, apparently nopony seemed to bother using them these days, but the ground was so hard it was like sleeping on rocks. He fidgeted, pulling his cloak in around himself and curled up into a ball, but it was no use, he was now so hopelessly wide awake that any further attempt at sleep was futile. To make matters worse, he was also starting to get a headache too. Cursing quietly under his breath, Bracken angrily got up and wandered over to a tree to relieve himself. He shivered with the cold as he made a quick check to make sure nopony was watching out of habit, but…

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah, I’m bloody fr’…agh!” He jumped back in fright at the large pair of azure eyes peering at him from the darkness. They seemed to be floating in thin air, the voice materialising out of the same nothingness.

“Miss me?”

“Miss you? I…” Bracken gave himself a shake, reaching for his sword only to realise the bloody thing was back by…his…sleeping…form. He patted himself down, “What the hell?”

The figure clucked its tongue, “Ah, the memory blocking spell, of course.”

The female voice drifted all around him carrying with it a sense of amusement that was making his hackles go up,

“There…” the voice said, satisfied, “Can you remember me now?”

Bracken sank to his haunches. He stared into the dark forest, those eyes, the voice, they were so…He gasped as his memories, like a door opening and finding yourself in another world, a familiar world, flooded back on a powerful tidal wave of imagery.

“P…Princess!” he choked, “I…I mean, your divinity.” He bowed.

“Oh don’t be so formal.” The voice tutted irritably, “Come and sit by the fire” she chuckled demurely, “I promise I won’t bite.”

Bracken looked about himself but the eyes had gone. Turning round, he headed back to the fire. Nightmare Moon was already lying beside it, tasting the wine which Chalk had been keeping for a special occasion,

“It really is very good.” The black coated mare smiled, lifting up the glass in her magic, “Won’t you join me?”

Bracken cleared his throat, “Your divinity, I…”

The goddess held up a silver shod hoof,

“Ah, ah, ah…!” she shook her head slowly, her long smoke like mane curling and dancing as she moved, “I said don’t be so formal.” She grinned, “Tonight, you may call me…’majesty’. It pleases me.”

“Yes, majesty” Bracken’s legs trembled slightly as he sat by the fire, all the memories of his time in the camp, the goddess’s unpredictable behaviour, the beheadings, the dragons…

Nightmare Moon smacked her lips,

“I never thought I’d ever taste such a thing again. To think it has been more years than even I care to remember, and yet now in the middle of…” she waved her hoof absently, “some dreary forest, the friend of my Bracken has a bottle of Empire wine!” She took a sip and smiled absently, “Wonderful.”

Bracken swallowed,

“Your majesty, this…forgive me, I don’t know what to say.”

“Well,” Nightmare Moon began, fixing him with her ethereal gaze, “I didn’t ask you to say anything.” She sighed, giving her mane a shake, “Especially after you disappeared from my camp. Do you know how much trouble I had trying to find you?”

Bracken shook his head, “No, your majesty. Forgive me.”

“I may…” she smirked, “But I can’t really blame you, can I? I placed that spell on you to trigger should you wander too far from my side.” Nightmare Moon stretched her wings out behind her, resettling them back by her sides, “I may have been a little…’impulsive’ with that one. After all, I don’t want my favourite black stallion to forget little old me now, do I?”

The trees echoed with the laughter of the black goddess, but still, nothing moved. There were no signs of life other than the fire, the sleeping Chalk and the two of them. He cast his gaze at the ground. She would be furious with him! He’d abandoned her, run off with those bloody pirates and…oh, no…Pickles! He couldn’t…

Suddenly a black muzzle drew close to him, the nostrils flaring slightly, while the smoke like mane drifted over his back making his skin shiver. Bracken closed his eyes, trying to keep his mind blank; he couldn’t think of anything, nothing! She would be so angry with what he’d done!

“You smell…” the sultry voice said softly into his ear, “of another mare.”

Brackens heart sank like a lead balloon, his mouth drying up in fright.

“Have you been…unfaithful to me?” she asked disarmingly.

Nightmare Moon’s muzzle slowly slid along Bracken’s neck taking in his scent, but what she could tell of it, he had no idea. He’d barely washed since being stuffed in that cart full of crap.

A silver shod hoof tapped him on the nose,

“You’ve lain with another mare, haven’t you?”

Bracken licked his lips, trying desperately to get some moisture back into his mouth,

“Yes, your majesty.”

Nightmare Moon watched him quietly for a while before yawning and rising from the log she had been lying on,

“’Yes, ‘majesty’…” She purred, “What was her name?”

Bracken licked his lips nervously, “I…I can’t remember, I was drunk.”

The goddesses laughter rang out like a bell through the forest, her teeth flashing in the moonlight,

“You can’t remember?! Oh, how deliciously noble of you!”

Noble? Nightmare Moon advanced on him and he cringed back in fright.

“You want to protect her! From me? You think I would harm her, this…’Pickles’?” The goddess of the night grinned widely, “I know everything my dearest Bracken. I know what you’ve been doing and I know too that you didn’t leave me of your own accord, nor were you fully ‘yourself’ when you did what you did.” The goddess of the night walked around him slowly, “But you need to choose my sleek black stallion. One day, when the time is right, you will.”

Bracken swallowed,

“You majesty, some…ponies and griffins, they…”

The goddess clucked her tongue,

“Yes…inefficient tools never yield the best results.” She said levelly, “And the way they treated you was not what I had anticipated.” A hoof ran gently but firmly along his flank making him grit his teeth against the sensation, “I would have had to ‘discipline’ them for that.” Nightmare Moon reached up and gave Bracken’s ear a quick nip, making his squeak out loud. She laughed, dancing away from him like a shadow in the night, “That’s for being…’naughty’.” She chuckled, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to remove the spell just yet my Bracken; this is, after all…just a dream.”

Without a sound, in the space of the blink of an eye, she had gone. Bracken’s heart was pounding. What was the goddess doing here? She’d come here to the dreamworld to see him? His mind was a whirling mix of emotions and thoughts. He didn’t know what to think any more, it was all so confusing! He turned back to the fire and straight into the azure gaze of the goddess of the night.

Bracken gasped in sharp breath of the cold night air.

“Did you think I wouldn’t punish you?” she said cocking her head to one side, “You’ve been bad, Bracken…” She reached out and kissed his lips softly, like the gentlest breeze, “…so very, very bad…”

Bracken’s resolve fell apart and he pushed into her, taking up the beautiful black mare in his forelegs. The goddess grappled him, forcing him to the ground as they kissed. She gripped his neck and pushed her forehooves down, staring deeply into the black stallion’s eyes with her timeless azure orbs,

“And so now, young Bracken,” the goddess of night smiled as her muzzle drew down towards his, “your punishment begins…”

**********************

Chalk woke with a yawn and gave his legs a good stretch. Now that was a good night’s sleep! It was a bit cold this morning, but the blankets ‘donated’ by the griffins had proved to be of the most excellent quality and combined with what appeared to be a cloudless sky above, it looked liked it was going to be a fine day too. He smirked to himself and reached out for his pack; a quick snack would hit the…

“Hey! Where’s all my bloody wine gone!?”

The empty bottle lay on the ground, the stopper beside it. The ground wasn’t wet so it didn’t look like it had rolled out and spilled, but, come to think of it, where was Bracken? Chalk scanned the small clearing. The fire had died down to mere embers, Bracken’s pack and sword still lay where he’d last seen him asleep, but of the black coated stallion there was no sign. He clambered to his hooves, his heart suddenly racing; they hadn’t come for him in the night had they? He hadn’t slept through…no, he wouldn’t have done that. Maybe he’d just gone for a…

Chalk’s ears twitched. Was that a groan? He reached down and took up his sword slowly, his senses keenly listening and watching for any movement. Damn it! There is was again! Chalk swivelled his ears, zeroing in on the direction the sound was coming from…there! By the fallen tree, he could just make out a small amount of movement. With a snort, he rushed over, dropping his sword and reached the all but invisible form of the black pony.

Bracken looked worn out, both physically and mentally. What the hell had happened to him? Chalk checked him over. His friend was lying face down over a large tree with his blanket over his back. The large brown woollen covering had all but camouflaged him in the dappled light of the clearing. Chalk rolled his eyes and walked round to where his friends face hung, a stupid grin spread across it.

“Bracken…” Chalk cooed, “Braaackennn…”

“Mmmm” The black stallion’s lips twitched into a ridiculous smirk as a light chuckle emanated from him, “…so…soft…”

“Yeah…” Chalk whispered to him, “Smooth and silky…right?”

“Yeah…” Bracken hummed.

“You know what else is smooth, silky and soft?”

“Mmmm?”

“MY BLOODY WINE!” Chalk bellowed right into his friend’s ear, “You thieving sod!”

Bracken’s eyes flew open and he let out a deafening neigh of fright. Bucking and struggling, he flailed his legs around until he was able to find a purchase and shoved himself off the log, flopping onto his haunches in a daze,

“Ch…Chalky? What the hell?!”

Chalk leaned down to the baffled looking stallion and grabbed his muzzle in his hooves,

“Morning sleepy head” he growled, “Have a good night on the drink did we?”

Bracken blinked in confusion, “What? What the hell are talking about?”

Chalk waved the bottle in front of his face, “Ring any bells? You bloody reek of it!” he walked back to his gear to begin packing, “Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, that was all we had.”

Bracken dragged himself over to his gear. What in Equestria was Chalk banging on about? Why was he lying across a tree and why did his head feel like somepony had been beating him senseless with the bloody thing?! He let out a groan and held his head in his hooves.

“Don’t even think about asking for sympathy for that head of yours,” Chalk groused, “I hope the bloody thing falls off.”

“Chalky I’m sorry.” A bolt of pain shot through Bracken’s head making him wince, “I…ow! Bloody hell fire!” he rubbed his temples trying to ease the aching, “Look, I don’t remember anything after going to bed.”

Chalky finishing rolling up his bedding, “So how do you explain the hangover, the empty bottle and stinking of wine?” he said casting an accusatory glare, “Come on then Sherlock Pones, answer me that one!”

“I don’t know!” Bracken protested, “Goddess damn it, Chalky, I…”

His friend snorted loudly, “-Well at least you had the common sense to throw your blanket over yourself, otherwise you could have got hypothermia, and then you really would have been screwed.”

Bracken looked down at his blanket, his memory stirring slightly. He lifted it with his hoof and gave it a tentative sniff. It smelt of…wool…wood smoke and…was that wild heather? He shrugged. Goddess knows how he’d got himself into such a state, but he’d have to make it up to Chalk somehow. What the hell had possessed him to drink all that? But, he had to admit, he had, he must have, he could still taste it on his tongue. He licked his lips and gasped out loud as a fleeting image of something, or rather, somepony, flashed into his mind. Before he could focus on it, the image had gone, but as much as his heart jumped, his blood suddenly ran cold. Goddesses, what a mess!

Chalk was waiting by the edge of the clearing as Bracken trotted up to him, his bags and pack all stowed for the next leg of their journey. The white unicorn had a look of disappointment on his face rather than anger, and strangely, that upset Bracken the most. Chalk had always been the clown of the pair, the one getting himself into trouble, and yet recently…it was Bracken himself that had been the one needing rescuing and now look at him; a closet drunkard. His heart felt like lead, echoing the dull thumping of his tortured brain. It was no more than he deserved, he thought to himself bitterly, but he was going to have to pull his act together or else he’d lose any respect Chalk had left for him. For now though, he decided to keep his mouth shut and followed his friend out of the clearing and continue their journey home.

The two of them walked in silence for most of the day and the sun was already setting, sending the temperature plummeting. The trees had all but disappeared now, with just a few low growing ones dotted about with the majority of the foliage changing to low gorse like bushes. Chalk’s ears twitched, he could hear water running, and smell it too. The map had said there should be a road here, and although it was more of an overgrown track now, it looked like it would take them straight to a small village. He nodded to himself and smiled at Bracken,

“Chin up, not far now to something other than travel biscuits and grass.”

Bracken muttered something, but Chalk ignored it. His friend had been sullen ever since leaving the clearing and he’d been feeling guilty about yelling at him earlier too. It was so unlike Bracken to do something like that. Of all the ponies he knew, the big black stallion was the most sensible and level headed of the lot. Maybe being stuck in the brig, chained to the wall after being hit on the head, after…being nearly killed…and…

Chalk closed his eyes. Dear goddesses above, what had Bracken been through? Didn’t he deserve a drink of wine for goodness sake? He’d talk to him about it later, right now there were a number of small wooden buildings coming into view. Chalk flicked his tail irritably; there were a lot of flies out today which was a little unusual for the time of year, but this close to water he wasn’t that surprised to encounter some. Unfortunately, as they walked it seemed that rather than a few odd ones lingering in the cold weather, there were virtually clouds of the damned things. He increased their pace to close the distance to the buildings and away from the flies.

The hamlet, and it was a stretch to call it that, was more of a group of around eight wooden buildings, several of which looked like they were uninhabited. One of them at least had smoke drifting from its chimney and a set of fishing nets hanging from a pole outside. Unfortunately it didn’t look like there was a tavern here, or, surprisingly, a store of any description. Chalk cursed silently, he’d been looking forward to buying something different from travel food. Something fresh rather than dried would have been just the ticket too. Speaking of which, with any luck, somepony here would be happy to accept a few bits for a trip up river.

Bracken was still hanging back, his eyes downcast. Chalk shook his head, he was really beginning to worry. He took a breath and knocked on the door of the single storied building with the smoking chimney. And waited…

Nothing.

He tried again.

“Ya after old Brindle?”

A faded silver coated stallion suddenly appeared behind them.

“Gah! Bloody hell!” Chalk jumped back in fright, “You nearly gave me a bloody heart attack!”

“He ain’t in” The stallion said, carrying on regardless. He took out a cloth from his saddle pack and gave his hooves a wipe, “You ain’t from ‘round ‘ere are ‘ya?”

“No, we’re after passage up river.” Chalk explained, “Do you know anypony who can take us?”

The old timer continued rubbing his hooves, “Nah. Nopony ‘ere will do that.”

“Why not?” Chalk asked, “We can pay!”

“Bits ‘aint no use ‘ere.” The old stallion shrugged, “We get by on our own, see.”

“What is it then?” Chalk pushed, “Nightmare Moon’s forces? Are they near, is that it?” he paused, “Oh…OH! I get it now! It’s because I’m a unicorn isn’t it!”

The old timer shook his head, “Nope.”

“Excuse me, sir.” Bracken said politely, “Forgive us, we’ve been through a lot, my friend and I. We only want to get home and it’s a long way by hoof. Please, we can pay, or work to earn our passage.”

The old fellow scratched his chin in thought,

“Hmm. Maybe. You’ll be needin’ to speak to old Brindle then.”

“So where is he then?” Chalk asked, virtually hopping from one hoof to another.

The silver stallion lifted an eyebrow, “Yer talkin’ to ‘im.”

Bracken gave Chalk a shushing motion and nodded to the old stallion,

“We need to get to Wellford Springs, sir. I believe that Drakestown is the nearest settlement along the river, so if you can help secure us passage, we would be very grateful.”

Brindle scratched his rump with his hoof, then turned away.

“Oh that’s just bloody marvellous, isn’t it!” Chalk hissed to Bracken angrily, “Nice going mister smooth!”

“You ponies coming?” The old fellow called back over his shoulder, “It’ll be dark soon, but ya can stay out ‘ere if ya fancy to.”

Bracken treated Chalk to a beaming toothy grin before trotting off after the retreating form of the silver stallion. In his wake, the flustered Chalk Dust looked ready to pass out. He’d never seen him turn that shade of red before!

The hut come house was more like a junk shop of odds and ends from around the world. Some of it, or rather most of it, was so peculiar as to be unfathomable. Chalk walked in sulkily but once inside, changed almost instantaneously into a pony bubbling over with excitement. The white unicorn rushed from one side of the room to another, staring agog at the strange and altogether mouldy looking artefacts. Bracken on the other hoof, was more interested in trying to find somewhere to sit down. Their host walked over to a pile of old books clucking his tongue,

“Just a minute…”

Bracken couldn’t help but stare in amazement as the enormous pile of books as they somehow transformed into a rather plush looking chair.

“Sorry ‘bout that”, Brindle muttered, “Need to ‘ave a word wit me lady.”

Chalk leaned in towards Bracken’s ear, “Bloody hell! There’s a mare in here? Should we call someone? OW!”

The silver stallion peered at Chalk curiously,

“You okay? Didn’t stub yer hoof on summat did ya?”

“NO!” squeaked Chalky, rubbing his foreleg and glaring at Bracken, “I just…bumped into something. Don’t mind me!”

Brindle nodded and produced a large bottle of what looked like water,

“Ya drinkin’ ponies, boys?”

“None for me, thanks” Bracken said politely holding up his hoof.

Chalk guffawed behind him, “Cutting down?” he deftly dodged the incoming kick, only to bump into a cabinet full of more of Brindle’s peculiar treasures, “Ah! Bugger it!”

Brindle shook his head in dismay at the leaping white unicorn,

“Drakestown…” Brindle said, producing a small pad and pencil, “Reckon ah can go there.”

“Thank you, sir” Bracken nodded respectfully, “What will we owe you?”

The silver stallion started making notes in his pad, mumbling to himself and crossing figures out. The thought process seemed to be a lot more involved than Bracken had considered, judging by the scribbling that was going on in the notepad. Finally, Brindle took the pencil out of his mouth and nodded to himself, a small smile crossing his lips,

“Fifty. Half up front, the other when we get there.”

There was a choking noise from the other side of the room. Bracken shot his friend a look, then reached out his hoof to their enigmatic host,

“Deal!”

The old stallion clopped Bracken’s hoof in response,

“Grand. We’ll get off first thing then.”

Relieved, Bracken counted out twenty five bits,

“Thanks. Is there somewhere we can stay tonight in town?”

“Nowhere the pixies won’t get ya.” Brindle sniffed, “Yer kin stay in ‘ere. Just buck stuff outta the ways if yer needs ta.”

“Did he say Pixies?” Chalk asked in alarm, “He did, didn’t he? He said Pixies!”

“Ah think yer friends a little excitable, like.” Brindle said leaning towards Bracken conspiratorially, “Not used ta the outdoors eh? Ah knew a fella like that once…” he made a circular motion with his hoof next to his ear, “’e went completely bonkers in the end. Thought ‘e was a sandwich an’ ran away screamin’ everytime somepony tried ta speak to ‘im.” He chuckled, grinning knowingly at Chalk, “Thought they was tryin’ ta eat ‘im”

“Any particular type of filling?” Chalk quipped back sarcastically.

“Cheese an’ pickle ah believe”

“Um, sir?” Bracken chipped in desperately trying to restore some semblance of normality back to the conversation, “You mentioned…Pixies?”

“Oh, aye.” The old stallion said standing up and stretching, “But don’t worry yerselve’s none, they don’t come in ‘ere too offen.” He creaked off to a side door, “Well ah’m off ter bed, boys. See’s ya in the mornin’.” The old stallion disappeared through the door.

A moment later he was back, “Oh, nearly forgot.” He leaned down, picked up a mallet and threw it to Chalk who caught it with his forehooves, “If’n any o’ them little buggers get in ‘ere, belt ‘em with that.” The old stallion said pointedly, “Little bastards keep crappin’ in me oats.”

Finally, the door to the bedroom shut with a click. Worryingly, the sound of two heavy draw bolts sliding into place drew the two friends’ attention.

Chalk stood frozen to the spot holding the large mallet,

“I am not…NOT, sleeping tonight!”

Bracken stared at the door and licked his lips nervously,

“Yeah…”

******************************

Sunlight was filtering through cracks in the shutters, highlighting the innumerable dust motes hanging in the air when the thump of the bolts on the bedroom door announced the entry of the yawning Brindle,

“Mornin’ boys, ya sleep well?”

Bracken and Chalk Dust stared at the old pony with bloodshot eyes. Chalk was still holding the mallet. As one they replied honestly,

“NO!”

“That’s a shame” Brindle smiled, collecting a satchel and some other assorted packages, “’Ah slept great, always do.”

“But…” Chalk said dryly, “…how do you sleep with, you know…the Pixies?”

“Eh?” Brindle replied furrowing his brow, “Yer don’t believe in them fairy tales do ya?” He gave a loud cackling laugh, opened the outside door and walked out into the morning air, “Comin’?”

Bracken gave himself a shake and sleepily headed after the silver coated stallion. Behind him, Chalk stared at the mallet with cold fury, his eye twitching,

“I…I’m going to kill him!”

“Shh!” Bracken waved his hoof urgently, “For the goddess’ sake, Chalky, just…let’s get the hell out of here!”

With a flurry of hooves, Chalk charged out of the house and into the fresh air. The freshness after being confined in a stuffy room all night was like having a bucket of cold water thrown over him, and it felt wonderful. Brindle was already trotting up to a small jetty and quickly had his gear stowed and oars readied. Chalk and Bracken passed down their own gear and soon, the tiny vessel was out into the wide river. Brindle, as it transpired, was quite an accomplish rower too, pointedly refusing to allow the others to help. Chalk naturally, groused about everything: the size of the boat, the speed of their progress, and of course, ‘Pixies’.

“How did I know they weren’t real?” he muttered, “The old sod did that deliberately! I nearly pissed myself when that bloody cat walked in!”

“Chalky…please!” Bracken hissed, “He can hear you!”

“I don’t give a toss!” Chalk snapped, “And besides, how come he was fine with you asking for passage and not me? It’s the whole bloody unicorn on boats thing all over again! I tell you I’m getting thoroughly sick of hearing about that bollocks.”

There was clearly nothing wrong with Brindle’s hearing,

“Ah already telt ya, boy, it ain’t nuffin ter do wit ya bein’ a unicorn.”

Chalk crossed his forelegs and huffed,

“So what then? Come on, out with it!”

Brindle nodded to Bracken,

“’E said ‘Please’”.

Chapter Twenty Three - Cry of the Pegasus

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CRY OF THE PEGASUS

The ancient timbers moved, the lifeblood of the wood flowing deep within its core. She could sense the vitality all about her, feel the teeming sea of life upon her decks as well as the chill of the winter air passing by her sleek hull. The memories of those who had lived and died aboard her still lingered within her own memory, the hearts of her crew and her captain, as precious to her as the seasons were to her living, breathing body. She could sense the captain’s suffering, the torment she was hiding deep inside. She felt too the more physical pain of the crew, and of one in particular who had come to her as a broken and fading speck of life. Now, she lay within her, the pony’s suffering more inside her heart than her body. The Revenge sailed on…troubled.

“How is she Doc?”

The ship’s medical officer didn’t look up as he laid another salve soaked strip across the red raw back of the green pegasus mare,

“She’ll live.”

Gretel closed her eyes. Cyclone was her friend, or at least, she had been. They’d been through so much together, weathered many storms, enjoying the good times and enduring the bad. As the Captain however, she had to ensure discipline was maintained and that meant enforcing the ship’s regulations. Nopony was above them, not even her best friend. Without them, chaos would reign and the efficiency and cohesiveness of the Revenge’s crew would soon fall apart. She knew as well as the Bosun knew, that without order, a closely confined crew would quickly turn to mischief and it could doom the ship with all hooves. The Revenge needed harmony, and goddess damn it all, so did she. Gretel sighed, turning to leave,

“Let me know if you need anything.”

Doc stood up and walked over to Gretel, placing his hoof on her shoulder, “When was the last time you slept?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching hers.

“I…I don’t know,” she replied distractedly, “a day or two maybe…something like that, it doesn’t matter.”

Doc shook his head, “It does matter, Gretel. You’re the Captain, the leader we look to for exactly that - leadership. If your decision making is impaired through lack of sleep then you could end up with more than just bad guts and a headache.”

How did he know…? Gretel rubbed her face with her foreleg, “You’re not my mother Doc…”

“-No, I’m not.” Doc cut in, “She’d knock some sense into you, rather than the brandy you’ve been putting into yourself instead of getting a nights sleep.” He lay a hoof on her shoulder, “Gretel, as your medical officer, I am ordering you to get to bed. As your friend, I’m asking you because I’m worried about you. Look, let Stock take command, he knows what he doing.”

Gretel leaned against the doorframe. He was right, she felt like death warmed up; and not very well warmed up at that. She nodded,

“Sure Doc, send Stock up to me when you can.”

“Aye, aye Cap’n”

The Captain walked slowly back up to her cabin. She was, as the Doctor had so clearly pointed out, nearly dead on her hooves. Gretel sank into her chair and poured a brandy…just one more, to keep her going…Leaning her chin on her forehooves, she tried to study the directions and charts on the table top. Goddesses, why wouldn’t everything stop swirling around?

“Captain?”

Gretel looked up from poring over the archaic map. She hadn’t even noticed Stock come in,

“Master Stock.”

The Ships Master blinked in surprise at the Captain’s bloodshot eyes and bedraggled mane. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days, and it showed. He cleared his throat,

“Doc sent me up to relieve you Captain.”

Gretel nodded, “Yes…thank you Stock. I need to get some sleep before we reach our rendezvous.”

“Aye, Captain.” He paused, “May I have moment?”

In answer, Gretel motioned to the chair opposite her. She leaned back from the map, rubbing her eyes. By the goddess, if she didn’t get to bed soon she’d likely pass right out, but something was playing on her mind, or rather, some ‘things’. The business with Chalk, Bracken and Cyclone, as terrible as it was, wasn’t the only thing that was troubling the Revenge’s Captain. There was more…the trouble was, she didn’t know exactly what it was. There was something in that business with Hay Wain that was troubling her, not least because it appeared on the face of it that he’d had some involvement in the abduction of Chalk as well. Was this whole plan to collect the barrels a scam? Hay Wain was a villain it was true, but to betray a whole ship and her crew didn’t seem like his style. No…no, he was up to something, she just couldn’t quite see what it was…yet.

“Captain?”

Gretel took a deep breath and closed her eyes. All she needed was sleep, just a little, but…she opened her eyes and tried her best to smile,

“What is it Stock?”

“I’d like you to read this.”

Furrowing her brow, Gretel took the proffered scroll. It was on thick parchment, tied in a deep purple ribbon and with the broken seal of a black crescent moon. Damn it all! She recognised it straight away…it was the symbol of Nightmare Moon and the Legion. She felt her heart skip a beat as she unravelled it, all the while trying not to show any outward concern to the brown stallion sitting opposite her.

The scroll was written in Equestrian, in extremely neat and precise hoofwriting. Gretel took a mouthful of her brandy and swallowed it down before reading,

To the Captain, officers and crew of the King Sombra’s Revenge,

Notice is hereby given to one and all aboard said vessel that her most gracious and divine majesty, Nightmare Moon, demands the immediate and unconditional return of the Equestrian unicorn stallion known as Ebony Bracken.

Immediate compliance is mandatory and the surrender of said Equestrian will be rewarded with a full pardon for any and all transgressions against her most gracious divine majesty and/or her armed forces.

Failure to comply with this directive will result in termination of any and all contracts past, future or present within Legion controlled areas and liquidation of any and all assets.

Representatives of her divine majesty may be contacted via the port authority.

Respectfully,

Royal Inquisitorial Inspectorate Command

First Spear

Arc

Gretels’ eyes went wide, her voice dropping as she spoke,

“Where did you find this?”

Stock blinked slowly, probably the nearest to embarrassed she’d ever seen the monotone stallion, “I searched through Cyclone’s things.” He said quietly, “I wanted to see if I could find something that would help me…understand.”

“And you found this.” Gretel replied. She rubbed her eyes with her foreleg, “This changes nothing Stock, she still did what she did.”

“It helps explain why.”

“It doesn’t excuse it.” Gretel said firmly, “And you’ll notice the letter says ‘Bracken’, not Chalk Dust. She knew the two of them were inseparable and used it as an excuse to get rid of him. Whether it meant his death or not, probably didn’t even enter her head, save that she got him off the ship.”

Stock’s eyes were unreadable.

“Stock,” Gretel said softly, “You know what all this is about, don’t you…”

“I…” he shook his head, “I believe so, Captain, but there’s no place on board for that sort of thing.”

Gretel wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘that sort of thing’, but it was between him and Cyclone to sort it out. She pushed herself out of her chair and walked round to the quiet stallion, “Master Stock, I consider you to be a friend as well as a first rate officer aboard my ship.” She smiled at him softly, “However, this business with Cyclone has gone on long enough. It’s not good for you, Cyclone, nor the efficient running of this vessel.” Gretel placed her hoof on his shoulder as she gazed at the hat hanging on the back of the door, a large mint green feather in its band, “I’m not bothered how you do it, but I want this resolved, Stock. And soon, you understand?”

He nodded slowly,

“Aye, Captain”

Gretel went to clop him on the back as she opened the door and paused,

“How’s the back…”

“Fine Captain,” Stock rumbled, “all but healed now.”

The red coated mare shook her head sadly,

“There’s somepony I need to see. Meanwhile, Master Stock, you have the deck.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

Down below, the sickbay was quiet. Doc had left to check up on the rest of the crew and, thoughtfully, had left a note to that effect on the door. Good old Doc, always one step ahead. Gretel pushed the door closed quietly behind her and slipped into the bunk room with its single patient who was silently lying face down on the bed, her back ensconced in layers of white bandages and her wings loosely tied with that same long scarf she remembered from when she’d first met the pegasus mare.

Gretel sank to her haunches and opened her mouth to say something, but the words just wouldn’t come. What could she say? Sorry? Damn it all! Why did it have to come to this? Sometimes…sometimes she hated being the Captain, other times, she couldn’t even begin to imagine being able to survive without her beloved ship. She felt herself shudder inside. Doc was right, if she didn’t get some sleep soon, she was going to fall apart.

“Come to gloat? Or haven’t you seen a flightless bird before?”

The voice was quiet, but carried a note of derision that Gretel had half expected.

“No. I came to talk. With a friend.”

“Huh.” Cyclone retorted, “Let me know if you find one.”

The words stung, even if they did carry more sarcasm than sincerity. The Captain watched the pegasus as she opened her eyes, fixing her with that familiar pair of large purple orbs. She steeled herself…she had to know,

“Cyclone, why didn’t you tell me about the letter?”

“Nosy arse been poking around in my gear has he?” The pegasus mare snorted derisively, “Ha! Only he’d know where to look too.” She paused, “Anyway, you know why I didn’t tell you already; I wanted that bloody unicorn gone, and that letter was my ticket. You know the rest.”

Gretel sighed, “I know you didn’t like Chalk Dust, but you could have sent him to his death, Bracken too. You know as well as anypony what Chalky means to me, and how what you did would wound me, but you still did it anyway. Even so, I still can’t believe you did it just because he was talking to Stock. Cyclone, please, tell me the truth.”

The mint green pegasus shifted on the bed, her obvious discomfort all too apparent on her face. Gradually, agonisingly slowly, she sat on her haunches panting to catch her breath, “The truth gets you flogged, Captain Gretel. You didn’t like what you heard and this…” she motioned to her back, “Is the result.”

Gretel shook her head, “No, Cyclone, it’s lying, it’s deceit, it’s betraying a friend’s trust. That, is what hurts.” She stared into her friend’s eyes, “If I weren’t Captain, I’d have volunteered to take your flogging for you. You may not believe it, but it’s the truth, and you should know that better than anypony aboard this ship.”

Cyclone stared back at her Captain. Finally…she looked away, “I wasn’t lying, Gretel. I…” she sniffed back an errant tear, “It was the night in the bow, the night that unicorn came in and started grabbing everyponies attention, like he had to be the centre of everything. I’d decided that night, I’d been steeling myself, building up my courage, to finally tell him how…how I…” her voice cracked and she squeezed her eyes shut against the wave of emotion surging through her, “But that bloody unicorn! I…I saw red. He’d stolen my friend and now the one I…Stock…it was too much for me.” Cyclone held her muzzle in her hooves, “It was too much!”

Gretel moved closer to her friend. Carefully, she gently took Cyclone’s head in her hooves, tenderly pulling her towards her chest. At first, the green pegasus tried weakly to push away, her resolve quickly fading in the warm embrace of her Captain. As the tears began in earnest, Gretel held her, lovingly stroking the broken pegasi’s mane,

“I know…shhh, it’s going to be alright.” She cooed, “It’s going to be alright.”

“Oh Gretel,” Cyclone sobbed helplessly, “It’s not…it’s not! He…he doesn’t see me as a mare, he looks at me and he sees her. I’m a ghost of her, a shadow. I can’t imagine what’s going through his mind, it must be torture! But damn it all, I want him to see me for who I am, not who she was! Goddesses, Gretel…it hurts so much…sometimes, sometimes I walk to the edge of the deck and look down at the clouds. I just want to forget everything, to feel the wind one last time through my wings, and fly. Even if it is…”

“NO!” Gretel hugged her friend tightly, far more than she meant to, but goddesses, “NO! Oh, Cyclone don’t you ever, EVER think of doing that! Losing you would be like losing my sister. Promise me, promise me you won’t!”

Cyclone looked away, but nodded weakly,

“For you, Gretel…I promise.”

Gretel pushed her away with a teary smile, “Good. Now, young lady, I want you to speak to that dim-witted stallion and get this bloody mess sorted out one way or another.”

Cyclone’s eyes went wide, “But…but if he…then I…I won’t be able to stay here, Gretel, I won’t! I couldn’t stay aboard with him seeing him all the time and knowing that he…he didn’t…” her voice drifted away like the ghost of a smile, “…didn’t want me.”

“Then I would support you in whatever decision you made” Gretel said, kissing her on the forehead, “You are family to me Cyclone, maybe not by blood, but you are my sister and I will stand by you.”

The green pegasus leaned into the red fur of her Captain and wept, her tears seeping into her friends coat,

“Captain?”

“Mmhmm?”

“Can I stay like this? Just…for a minute or two?”

“Of course…” Gretel smiled, stroking Cyclone’s pale blue mane, “As long as you need.”

*********************

Gretel awoke to the sound of heavy deck activity. Something was going on, but if it had been urgent, Stock certainly would have summoned her. As it was, he’d left her alone to catch what sleep she could, and by the goddess she had. Letting out a huge yawn, the red mare dragged herself from her covers and tottered over to the wash basin. Cold water would suffice for a quick freshen up, but then, the feel of it against her skin had always made her feel reinvigorated anyway. Today though, she stared into the mirror and stepped back in horror; was…was that her? She leaned forward, lifting up the mirror and carried it over to the window for a better look. Gretel closed her eyes, feeling the wave of sadness and sorrow come and go. Good goddesses, is this what Chalky had seen? She looked…haggard, old, the dark circles beneath her eyes telling the story of how she hadn’t been looking after herself lately. Of course, she never looked her best in the morning, her mane and tail were often neglected, but since she’d met Chalky she’d been washing more often, and she’d even bought a new set of brushes and curry combs from the sutler in Spurs Anvil. Gretel lifted the neat cherry wood box and ran her hoof over the silver inlaid grooming items inside, and smiled lovingly. She’d wanted to look her best for him, but secretly, she wanted him to groom her…the girls on the crew had always talked about it, and how ‘sensual’ it felt when your lover ran the brushes through your hair.

Gretel shivered and put the box back in the drawer. That was a thought for another day, the day she found Chalky and brought him home. She turned to look out of the window and paused. Was that really how she saw it? That the Revenge was home, both for her and the white stallion? But what about him? He’d run off after his friend and to hell with her! He’d just dumped her and…and…

Gretel grabbed a face cloth and scrubbed roughly at her muzzle. Damned, blasted stallions! What the hell did they know about a maiden’s heart? Bugger all! That’s what!

Taking out her worn set of old combs and brushes, she set to work on her mane and tail. Angrily she wrenched at the things as they snagged and pulled at the knots in her fur and hair. She wanted them to, she needed to feel it…that bloody unicorn and his stupid arse of a mare! How could she have been such an idiot, and why didn’t he damned well stop her either? All she’d wanted was for him to tell to her to shut up, to grab her in his forelegs and push her up against the wall and there, together…

The cold water made her gasp and shiver, washing the intrusive and altogether totally inappropriate thoughts away. Besides, Chalky wasn’t like that anyway, no, he had soft hooves, not the rough ones the crew had from years of working the decks. He was gentle, funny and surprisingly insightful, but that night, the look in his eyes…her words had wounded him, and probably a lot worse than she could imagine. Goddess, how she’d wanted to go after him, to call him back, but that damned pride of hers! And his! Gretel plunged her face into the wash bowl again and gave herself a good shake. Lifting the mirror, she nodded to herself in the reflection,

“Good! Altogether more ‘Captainly’ again!” She smirked.

Gretel began drying herself off and prepared for another day. Chalk could wait, he would wait. She had duties to perform and a ship to run, and they always came first. She ran her hoof over the door frame, smiling,

“I’ll see him again my love, won’t I?”

Deep within the bowels of the King Sombra’s Revenge, in the darkest recesses of the most ancient part of the vessel, the heart of the sky galleon thrummed happily. High above in the rigging, the crew could feel it too, those few extra knots, the way the old wooden ship seemed to slip through the air as if she were alive. Mr Haggis gently held the wheel, letting her have her rein. She was happy, and he could feel it through her. She would sing to him during the long lonely nights on deck, and he would sing to her in return. She loved her Captain and the Captain loved her, but Haggis…well, he smiled to himself knowingly, that was another story.

“Captain on deck!”

Stock gave Gretel a salute and bobbed his head to her,

“Good morning, Captain. You look very well today.”

“Good morning, Master Stock,” Gretel replied, adjusting her hat, “Status report, if you please.”

“Aye, Captain” Stock walked up to the balustrade beside her, “We’re making good time. We should be entering the cloud sea within the next hour. I’ve set an extra watch up on the deck and in the crows nest. I’ll confess, Captain, that I’ve never been in the cloud sea myself, but I’ve heard the old hooves talking below.”

“Salty?” She asked.

“Aye” Stock rumbled, “Once you get past all the ‘folk wisdom’ and tall tales, you get to the meat of it all.” he cleared his throat, facing the Captain, “It’s dangerous, Captain, very dangerous. There’s not just the mountains to worry about, there’s ‘things’ that live there too, amongst the clouds.”

Gretel kept her voice low, “What things?”

Stock shook his head, “Don’t know. Salty only said that a couple of the ponies on his crew had vanished into the cloud, only leaving their screams behind.”

The Captain’s blood ran cold, “Dear goddesses…”

Stock nodded, “Captain, we’ve weathered many a storm, but I have to say.” He looked out across the decks towards the bow, “I feel…uncomfortable about this venture. I don’t trust that Hay Wain, particularly after that business with Chalky and his friend.”

Gretel sighed, leaning her hooves on the balustrade, “I know Stock, and I appreciate your thoughts on the subject. Believe me, I have the same reservations of my own, but what do we do? If we break our contract, everypony will know about it and we may find ourselves unable to get any more. If we go on, we could endanger the Revenge and all the ponies aboard. You have the mind of the crew, Stock, what do they say?”

“They see money, Captain. Money, booze, and Madam Pickles’ whore house.” He grinned, an unusual occurrence for the dour stallion, “They’ll go through hell for you, for the ship, and for gold.”

Gretel laughed, “You know, Master Stock, I can strangely relate to that. But for Madam Pickles’?” she shook her head, “No. I have my own plans.”

Stock smiled, “Involving a certain white unicorn?”

Gretel winked at him, “Now that would be telling.” She gave herself a shake, returning her mind to more dutiful concerns, “Stock, bring the weapons up on deck and see they’re ready. Have the Master at Arms, arm every pony and post sharpshooters in the masts.”

“Better safe than sorry, Captain?”

She nodded, “If it all turns out to be a load of bollocks, we all know who to blame”

Stock snorted, “Hay Wain?”

“No!” Gretel chuckled, “That old fart, Salty!” She stretched her legs and neck, working out the stiffness from her sound nights sleep, “Stock. I’ve spoken to Cyclone.” She gave him a light nudge with her muzzle, “Go on…she’s waiting for you. Your duties can wait a few minutes.”

Stock stared at the deck, suddenly looking very uncomfortable,

“Captain…”

“No excuses. This needs sorting, Stock. I need my officers at peak efficiency and if you’re both hiding your feelings and thoughts from one another, you could compromise the ship. I know you, Stock, and I know Cyclone. Neither of you would jeopardise the Revenge, so get your bloody heads together and get everything shipshape.”

“Whatever the outcome?” he asked quietly.

“So long as it is resolved, Stock, yes.” She tossed her mane, feeling the wind catch it and stream out behind her playfully, “I trust you.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

*********************

Cyclone sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her mane over and over again. It was an old habit she’d developed ever since she’d been…’taken’. She’d only been a foal when it happened; a tiny new life, sold and traded like a sack of wheat, as though she were nothing more than a simple commodity. But then, slavers didn’t care about how it might affect you, how it would scar you, let alone how you felt or how you would suffer. None of that mattered, only the money, your life measured in the scales against some trader’s profit margins. Their trade was in the suffering, pain and misery of innocents until, eventually, if your master was merciful…death. The mint green pegasus shook her mane out and started brushing it again. It didn’t need it of course, but it felt re-assuring, calming, her heart feeling more at ease with the rhythmic action.

She was still angry with Gretel, but then she was angry with a lot of ponies - one in particular. He was so damned infuriating! And also somepony whom she would travel to the ends of the world for, if only he would ask it of her. It was stupid, she knew, but it was something she couldn’t control. Long ago she’d realised that denying how you felt only lead to pain. With the Master of the ship though, the rules she’d set for herself didn’t have much impact. He knew how she felt, and it meant nothing to him…nothing at all. Gretel was right of course, the matter needed to be resolved, but really, there was only one way…

The door opened slightly, followed by a tentative knock,

“Bosun? Are you in here?” Stock’s face appeared around the door, his large eyes spotting her on the bed. He seemed to hesitate before speaking again, “May I speak with you?”

Cyclone continued to brush her mane, “You don’t need my permission.” She looked up at him for the briefest of moments, “I have a name you know. I wasn’t born ‘Bosun’.”

Stock shook his purple mane and pulled up a chair beside her,

“Captain said we needed to talk.”

“Did she?” The pegasus mare asked in mock surprise, “Why do you think that is? I couldn’t imagine.”

The dark brown stallion’s eyes stared at the floor,

“Cyclone…please. This is very hard for me.”

“Hard for you?” Cyclone replied, a hint of anger in her voice, “Hard for YOU?! How hard do you think it’s been for me, Stock? You walk around acting as if I don’t exist half the time and the other half stare at me as if you’ve seen a ghost. If you were in my shoes, can you imagine how that would feel? Can you?”

Cyclone’s voice began to quaver. She was well aware she had the capacity to explode in anger at the worst possible times, and now it looked like she was likely again. But this time, she couldn’t let it, she wouldn’t! She had to speak to him and chasing him off wasn’t going to resolve anything. The mint green mare hung her head and rubbed her eyes,

“Stock…I’m sorry.”

The stallion looked up in surprise, “Huh?”

“I said I’m sorry! You…!” Cyclone took a deep breath. Goddesses, how bloody aggravating could a stallion be?! “Look! I…” she drew a breath, calming her voice as much as she could, “Stock, I don’t want to be a burden on the ship and I don’t want to be one on…you.” She shook her head, “So, I’ve made my decision.”

Stock blinked, “Decision?”

“I’m leaving the Revenge the next time we dock at port.” Cyclone said calmly, “I’ve had a word with the bursar and there’s enough in my savings to set me up comfortably for the rest of my days. A little cottage somewhere, maybe near Spurs Anvil, who knows. That way I can still see my old friends when they’re in port, or maybe even a little village somewhere.” She smiled sadly, “Hey, with the money we make from this deal the Captain has, we could all be…”

“-Cyclone. Stop it.”

“…set for…” She stopped, her train of thought jumping the tracks, “What?”

Stocks heavy voice echoed around the room, “I know you don’t mean that. This ship is your home, not some crap hole in a dump like Spurs Anvil. You’re a free spirit, and up here, you can still fly, even if it is on the deck of a sky galleon.” Stock rubbed his head, unused to long conversations, “The ship needs you, Cyclone.”

She stared at him, her eyes narrowing,

“And that’s it is it? The ship needs me.”

Stock stared at the floor in silence.

Cyclone nudged him with a hoof, “For the goddesses’ sake Stock, look at me, for once!”

The large stallion closed his eyes and slowly, gradually, lifted his head up and met her gaze.

Cyclone watched him quietly, “Who do you see, when you look at me?” she asked gently.

“Who do I see?” he asked, perplexed.

“Yes! Who do you see?” Cyclone paused, waiting for an answer that never came, “And that’s exactly it isn’t it? I can see it in your eyes, Stock. You don’t see me, you see Even Song, you see…her ghost.”

Stock looked away, his face unreadable.

“Get out” Cyclone said quietly, “Go on, sod off and leave me alone.” She could feel tears beginning to fill her eyes, “Just…go.”

Gritting his teeth, the Master of the ship rose to his hooves and walked slowly to the door. Cyclone turned over and rolled onto her bed, pulling the blanket over her head. Her heart felt like ice, cold, dead…she knew she had no choice now, she had to…

The door slammed shut. A moment later she heard the lock click into place. Cyclone’s ears twitched at the sound of hoofsteps coming nearer - heavy hoofsteps.

“No”

Stocks rumbling voice was strong and assured.

Cyclone pulled down the blanket slightly and peered up at him in confusion.

“Stock, please…”

“I said no, Cyclone. I’m not going.” A muscular dark brown leg reached out, his rough hoof pulling the blanket away from her, “I don’t want you to go.”

Cyclone closed her eyes. She didn’t want to look at him, she didn’t want to hear this. Too many years had passed, too many lonely, empty nights, and now…now this?!

Stock sank down to his haunches beside her. He was so now close she could smell him, his musky odour, the scent of a hard working crewpony. The mint green mare felt like she wanted to disappear and simply not exist anymore, but…this is what she wanted, wasn’t it? To hear from his lips how he truly felt, to hear from that big brown pony how he saw her. But now, now he was here, she was terrified.

“Cyclone…” he said, in what she presumed was the softest tone he could produce, “What happened, all those years ago. It wasn’t what you thought.”

Cyclone took a shuddering breath, her heart racing,

“How can you know what I thought? You never listened to me. Every time I try to speak to you, you brushed me off, or found some excuse to be somewhere else.”

“I know!” Stock’s hoof banged on the floor making her jump, “I…” He shook his mane, gathering his thoughts, “I’m…I’m not very good with words. I wanted to talk to you, I really did, but I never seemed to be able to think of what to say.”

“Stock…” Cyclone looked up at him. The big dumb stallion was pouring his heart out and looked…pathetic. She could have laughed, but there was that light of honesty in his eyes that she’d fallen for all those years ago. She cleared her throat, “You loved Eve, didn’t you. I saw it in your eyes everytime you looked at her.”

Stock nodded,

“I did, but not the way she wanted.”

“Oh, come on, you two were inseparable!”

He nodded again, “She was vulnerable, Cyclone. You know how weak her body was, after those animals had…” he closed his eyes, “what they’d done to her.” He looked up, his big chestnut eyes glinting in the light from the lantern, “And what they did to you.”

Cyclone hung her head, “She loved you. I know she did.”

“She loved me, she told me all the time. But, Cyclone…I didn’t love her.” Stock’s voice sound choked, distant, “I wanted to, I really did, but I couldn’t…”

“But…why?” Cyclone asked, her heart racing.

Stock squeezed his eyes shut at the memories assailing him and hung his head, “That night, when they found Eve in the bar, drunk, and…and then the two of you tried to get back to the ship…I should have been there, I should have done something! Goddesses damn me, Cyclone, I was too slow! Too bloody slow!”

“You didn’t know!” Cyclone said loudly. Her heart was beginning to pound in her chest from even the memory of that night, “It wasn’t you fault the bloody fool had snuck out on her own for a drink. The Captain had said to stay aboard and what did she do? Got rat arsed and muggins here, sneaked out to find her without telling anypony!”

Cyclone’s eyes were filling with tears. Goddesses, it was so long ago and yet so fresh in her mind’s eye. She could still see her, she could hear the shouts of the slavers as they recognised them, the rumble of hooves, claws and paws as they gained on them. She looked down at her hooves; she could still remember the feel of Even Song’s body leaning against her as she dragged her back to the ship while she screamed for help. Help that came…just a few seconds too late.

The pegasus hugged herself with her hooves, rocking back and forth with the horrible feeling of the memory surging through her. She could still see stock racing towards her, his sword gripped in his teeth even as the impact of the crossbow bolt reverberated through her. Goddesses…she’d never forget it. Stock was like death itself, cutting his way through pony and griffin as if they were nothing more substantial than air. He’d been badly hurt too, but in her grief, Cyclone only had eyes for the dying twin in her forelegs. Those big purple eyes staring up at her, the smile on her face as the light of life faded…and died.

Stock reached out a tentative hoof and quickly put it back down, his embarrassment and shame all too apparent. Cyclone took a breath and reached out to him, lifting that very same hoof in hers and holding it to her chest. He didn’t resist, instead he simply sat and gazed at her as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him.

“You don’t have to say any more, Stock,” she said, a sad smile on her face, “You can go now.”

The large stallion shook his head stubbornly, “You still don’t see, do you?” he rumbled. Stock scratched his head furiously, “When I see you, I see Eve…”

“I know, that’s…”

“NO!” Stock pulled his hoof away and jumped up, pacing the floor, “Damn it to the bowels of hell! I’m no bucking good at this!” he suddenly lashed out with a savage kick, sending a heavy wooden chest across the floor, splintering the lid as it slammed into the wall. The door to the room suddenly rattled and a familiar, yet muffled voice called from the other side,

“Hey! What’s going on in there? Why’s the door locked?”

Stock leaned up against the door,

“Doc, its Stock.”

“Stock? What are you…?”

“-go away.”

“What? I…”

“GET THE HELL AWAY! DO I NEED TO SAY IT AGAIN?”

There was an indistinct sound from outside and then the room fell silent. Cyclone had never seen the Ship’s Master like this, so…angry, so…dominant. The brown stallion walked back to her, his black mane falling across his face as his chest heaved with emotion,

“Cyclone, I…” he took a deep breath, “I see Eve...dying. When I look at you, I keep thinking that it’s my fault, that if I’d been there sooner I could have stopped it, that I could have saved her. But not because I loved her, but because she was my friend. When I see you it…it frightens me, because I don’t want you to…because I…”

Cyclone reached out a hoof and brushed the errant strands of hair from his forehead. Their eyes met.

“Say it…”

Stock shuddered, his whole body shaking with the effort of saying what he’d been trying to say for too long, far, far too long,

“Cyclone…I…”

“Please…Stock,” She leaned forward, her muzzle so close to his she could feel his breath, “I need to hear it…”

Stock closed his eyes, a tear slipping out and rolling down his cheek, “I love you, Cyclone. It was you I loved,” more tears were flowing now, and not just from the brown stallion, “…I’ve always loved you.”

A muffled voice from outside the door huffed a reply, unheard by the two lovers within,

“About bloody time…”

Chapter Twenty Four - Bones of the Forgotten

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

BONES OF THE FORGOTTEN

The small boat rolled along the river, the small sail Brindle had set up pulling them along steadily. The old silver coated stallion sat at the tiller, steering the two friends towards home. Bracken stared up at the sky whilst Chalky hung onto his stomach.

“I thought you had your sea legs?” Bracken chuckled, “Some jolly jack tar you are!”

“Oh, goddesses…shut up, Brack,” Chalk groaned, “I’m bloody well dying here…”

There was a sudden choking and hacking sound which Bracken turned away from, shaking his head. The pony who wanted to be a pirate, eh? Who would have believed it! Bracken stretched his legs and peered over the bow, feeling the chill of the water as it sprayed onto his muzzle. It was quite invigorating really, the open water, the little vessel bobbing along without a care in the world; he could get used to this. As he relaxed, something ahead of them glinted intriguingly in the sunlight, catching his attention. Overhead, the uniform grey clouds were covering the sky like a shroud making everything seem depressingly dull, and yet…there it was again, a bright glint of colourful light from what looked like the middle of the river. Peering through the gloom and water spray, Bracken could definitely see something but couldn’t make it out in any detail. What the hell was that? There was one pony he knew who would know though…

“Brindle?” Bracken asked, “What’s that up ahead?”

“Ah, well now, that’s where we stop fer lunch.” The old stallion grinned expansively.

“But what is it?” Bracken asked impatiently.

Brindle shrugged, his eyes staring straight ahead,

“Wait an’ see, boy. We’re nearly there.”

He was right too. Within no time at all the small craft was being run up on the gravel banks of a small island. Bracken, and a very relieved Chalk whose face was looking the same colour as his eyes, stared about them in wonder.

“Crystals?” Bracken exclaimed in wonder, “What are they doing here? It’s…It’s incredible!”

“Aye…” Brindle grinned, taking out his pack, “Ya kin leave yer gear in the boat lads.”

“Pfff! Not bloody likely!” Chalk announced, snatching up his packs and sword, “If any of this floated off down river, Strata would have my hide on his wall as a trophy!”

Bracken jumped as his gear too, was thrown at him by the suddenly reenergised white unicorn,

“You too, big guy,” Chalk quipped, “You’re on food duty.”

Rolling his eyes, Bracken collected his belongings and followed the others up the shore and into the incredible forest of crystals.

The island was, quite literally, covered in them. Huge multi-faceted translucent structures of pink, white, red and blue stuck out at impossible angles, apparently growing up out of the very ground itself. Bracken shook his head in amazement. Some of the crystals appeared to resemble certain familiar forms, but as soon as he tried to focus on them, they seemed to change as though embarrassed to be seen in their native form. Trotting along beside him, Chalk too was apparently lost for words, his eyes wide with childish fascination as he took it all in. Brindle on the other hoof, ambled along as if the alien environment around them was as normal as leaves on a tree. The strange silver male walked on ever deeper into the crystal forest, eventually stopping in front of what appeared to be, to the amazement of the two younger stallions, an archway, a door and a set of steps, all constructed in the same sparkling material. Chalk walked up to it and ran his hoof along the smooth crystalline surface, a huge grin on his face. His green eyes reflected back at him, bright and clear despite the grey sky overhead,

“What is this place?” he breathed.

“It’s an old outpost from the Crystal Empire,” Brindle replied, dumping his pack beside the structure, “Best we go inside an’ keep outta the rain, boys.”

Bracken lifted up a hoof, looking up at the sky, “It’s not raining…”

“Hmph!” Brindle snorted, shaking his head, “Not right now, nah. But it will, ya wait an’ see.”

Bracken looked round for his friend, but Chalk was already heading down the steps, a small lantern held out in front of him, floating in the glow of his magic. “Chalky!” he shouted in alarm, “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Just having a quick look” Chalk called back happily, “Come on Brack, it’s amazing in here!”

His hackles going up, Bracken turned to Brindle who waved him on with a disinterested wave of his hoof,

“Foller yer friend, ah’ll be along in a minute.”

“Oh for…” the black coated stallion snorted and plunged into the opening, reluctantly heading down the steps into the unknown. Surprisingly, and much to his relief, it wasn’t that far before he reached the bottom, and Bracken quickly found himself in what looked to be a relatively large open space completely devoid of…anything. Strangely, he felt a little cheated. Chalk’s excited voice called back to him from further ahead, echoing oddly in the crystalline chamber,

“Hey Brack, you gotta come and see this!”

Bracken was already feeling distinctly uncomfortable; his instinctive compulsion to run back outside into the open air was rapidly becoming unbearable. Fighting back his fears, he gritted his teeth and walked on, finding another flight of steps and the light of Chalk’s lamp at the bottom. The white unicorn was standing staring at the most incredible sight Bracken had ever seen. It was a huge, carved chamber, in the centre of which stood what was quite clearly a larger than life carving of a pony, a unicorn by the looks of her. She was rearing, holding an open book in one hoof and throwing her head back as if reciting the spell within. Strange carvings on the statue’s plinth proved to be the same peculiarly angular writing that Chalk had described seeing at Strata’s home in Spurs Anvil, not that it mattered really anyway, neither of them had a clue what any of it said.

“It’s…amazing, isn’t it?” Chalk whispered, his voice echoing in the vast room, “A remnant of the Crystal Empire…who’d have…HEY!” He jumped back as Bracken suddenly clopped on the head.

“Shush!” Bracken held up his hoof for quiet, “Did you hear that?”

Chalk cocked his head, listening, “No, hear what?”

“A grating sound, like…”

A loud rumble and heavy thump from above them, echoed around the chamber. The two friends stared at each other in shock, and then, as one, ran for the stairs. Bracken’s worst fears were quickly realised - they were locked in. Despite his frantic searching, there was quite clearly no handle, no hinges, no lock…nothing! Chalk banged urgently on the door with his hoof,

“Hey! Brindle, hey! The door’s shut, let us out!”

Bracken shook his head,

“I don’t think he can hear us”

“Hell fire!” Chalk spat, “What do we do now? Do we wait or try to get out?”

Bracken’s blood went cold. When they’d been outside he’d had a peculiar feeling about this place. He hadn’t been able to put his hoof on it, but it had felt wrong for some reason, and now they’d walked right in through the front door like bloody fools.

“There may be another way out,” he said trying to keep himself calm, “I don’t think it’ll hurt to have a look”

The two walked back to the lower level in the surprisingly bright light from the unusual little lantern that Chalky held in his magic. It had fascinated Bracken when he’d first seen it. He’d thought his friend had brought it as a souvenir from the Revenge, only to find it was another gift from this mysterious ‘Strata’ chap. He’d actually like to meet him one day, if for no other reason than to see whether potentially fatal inquisitiveness was a common unicorn trait. That bloody Chalky!

Chalk walked around the outside of the room, running his hoof over the walls and shaking his head, “Looks like we’re stuck, dude. There’s one way in and one way out. Guess we’ll just have to wait for Brindle to get help after all.” He looked up in surprise as Bracken stared back at him, his eyes wide as saucers. “Brack? What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Bracken was stood stock still, as if the barest movement could bring the whole place down around them,

“I…I don’t think helps coming…”

Chalk laughed nervously,

“What are you talking about? There’s…oh, no…”

The white unicorn’s gaze moved slowly to the floor. Bracken’s hooves were standing in the broken remains of what had once quite clearly been a living, breathing pony…like them. Casting the lantern around, Chalk’s eyes took in the reality of the horror surrounding them; the whole room was full of bones, lots and lots of bones. The lamplight glinted off the bleached remains of countless skeletons and, strangely, a large number of small blue globes covered in black and white spots. Chalk shook his mane,

“They’ve…” he swallowed, “They’ve probably been here for years, hundreds of years…”

“I don’t think so,” Bracken whispered. The black stallion gingerly picked up a small metal disk with a name and number stamped on it. It was threaded with a chain and had been hanging around the neck of one of the earth pony skeletons. Bracken read the name in a near whisper, “12646 Copper Elm, First Battalion, E.R.G.”

Chalk looked up in alarm, “What…he was a guardspony?”

“Uh-huh” Bracken nodded, looking more closely at the bones, “There’s more too…”

“I…I don’t understand it, “Chalk said, shaking his head in disbelief, “Why? How?”

Doing his best to overcome his fear and desire to run, Bracken looked more closely at one of the skeletons. With a wave of his hoof, he motioned to Chalk to bring the light nearer so he could see better. It appeared, upon closer scrutiny, that the white bones were far from old and were, more notably, completely devoid of any more ‘tangible’ remains; no metal work, no panniers, no saddle packs…nothing. He scratched his head in puzzlement and lifted one of the bones for a closer look. Chalk quailed, his face contorted in horror,

“Goddesses, Brack, how can you touch that?!”

“Shush!” Bracken hissed, examining the bone. A few seconds later, he shook his head and put it back down quietly, “Damn it…”

“What? What have you found?”

Bracken got back to his hooves, taking a deep breath,

“Teeth marks. Lots and lots of small teeth marks.”

Chalk backed away, his eyes shining wildly in the light from the lantern. Bracken looked up at his friend and immediately cursed himself for his careless choice of words…the white unicorn was terrified. “Chalky?” Bracken held out a hoof to try and comfort him, “Look, keep calm, it’s…”

“Oh…oh, goddesses…no…” Chalk’s heart was racing, his breathing ragged and hoarse, “I…we have to get out Brack…we have to get out!” He suddenly grabbed Bracken, “WE HAVE TO GET OUT!”

Bracken gripped Chalk’s muzzle in his hooves, fixing the panicked unicorn with a hard stare, “We ARE getting out, okay? We just have to think this through. You have magic don’t you?” Chalk was barely conscious of what Bracken was saying but managed a vague nod. “Good,” Bracken said confidently, “so use it on the door and…”

“It doesn’t work like that!” Chalk shouted as he began hopping nervously from one hoof to another, looking around frantically, “I was…I’m not…Oh goddesses!”

Bracken stomped a hoof, trying to get his attention, “Chalky! For the goddesses sake, you were a craftspony, you can do this!”

“I…” Chalk stopped suddenly, his voice changing to a whimper, “Something…something…t…touched…”

Everything happened sickeningly fast. Chalk swung the lantern, illuminating the dark blue bipedal creature that had attached itself to his hind leg. The thing looked like a tiny bald monkey, with long thing appendages on the end of its tiny limbs. The creature’s eyes, as white as the tiny hat it wore on its head, glared up at Bracken and let out a high pitch squeak, hissing aggressively and displaying a battery of needle like teeth.

Chalk screamed.

Bucking out as hard as he could, the unicorn kicked the vile blue creature across the room where it slammed with a wet crunch into the crystalline wall. The thing didn’t move again, but in the lamplight, there was more movement from the shadows, dark shapes shifting about and uttering the same strange squeaking call as the blue creature. Bracken’s heart suddenly leapt into his throat,

“Chalky, it’s those blue ball things, it’s the creatures!”

Without another word, Chalk’s sword was out and he charged around the room, followed by a hideous screaming and shrieking noise as the creatures, now fully roused, surged in on their prospective meals. Unfortunately for many of them, this time, dinner fought back.

Magic burst around the room as Chalk’s horn glowed, oblitering swathes of the things even as his sword cut through them like butter. Bracken’s own sword, the curved griffin blade, similarly made light work of the chittering blue mass of hissing, squeaking beasts, but there were just so many of them!

“CHALKY!” he yelled above the screeching din, “CLIMB THE STATUE!”

“Oh goddess…” Bracken prayed, leaping onto the stylised tail of the large stone unicorn wizard, “Hooves don’t fail me now!” He grappled and heaved until he was up on the things rump. Chalk wasn’t there.

“Chalky? CHALKY!” A huge magical blast below him sent burning and mangled pieces of creature into the air as red and blue vapour. The stink was unbearable, but the white unicorn was being swamped. He neighed and yelled, his sword still swinging, the magic still glowing, until the blue tide was simply…too much…

Bracken stared down in horror,

“Chalky?”

The mass of blue surged and rippled like some monstrous living blanket as the tiny blue things all pushed in, trying to get to their meal below. Bracken’s heart was beating so hard, his stomach roiling...

“Chalky…”

His friend…his dear friend, the one he’d loved as a brother since they were foals…he was…Bracken squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. Oh goddesses, why? WHY?! He smashed his hoof impotently onto the statue’s neck and threw back his head, howling his rage and pain to the world. Lifting his sword, Bracken gathered his resolve and readied himself to leap into the mass as his eyes filled with tears of grief. He wouldn’t die up here a trapped rat waiting to be killed, he would go down fighting as his friend had, he would die proudly…as a soldier of the goddess…

“Buck the lot of you…” he muttered and took a breath as the statue suddenly moved.

Hooves scrabbling for purchase, Bracken dropped to his belly, grabbing the now bucking and shifting statue as the world around him burst with a brilliant white intensity he could still see through his closed eyes. And then, suddenly, everything stopped. The shrieking, the squealing, the movement, even the light…there was…nothing. Bracken took a breath…and then the world exploded.

The black earth pony was flung upward into the ceiling where he hit hard before dropping back down, landing on the outstretched book of the statue. Around him, a hurricane of unimaginable power raged, a storm of roaring, screaming magical energy. Within the maelstrom, the overwhelming sense of anger, fear and pain, mixed with a sense, a desire, to live. Bracken hung onto the statue as the ethereal winds threatened to rip him away into the swirling mass, but as quickly as it had begun, the storm began to ebb and finally die down.

If ever Bracken wanted to provide a description of the word ‘carnage’, he would use the scene below him now to do so; if he ever could describe it. He blinked in horror and shock at the charnel house of death that had once been lined with elegant crystal walls. Now everything; the ceiling, the walls, and the floor, were coated with a film of red, blue and white gore. Horribly, pieces of what had once been living creatures began dropping from the ceiling making wet sounds like some hellish rain. Bracken slipped down from the statue, landing in the thick gloopy mess and found the eye of the storm, the once white, now red soaked unicorn. He wasn’t moving.

“Chalky?” Bracken wiped the blood away from his friends face, “Come on…you’re safe now, you can wake up.”

Nothing.

Bracken closed his eyes. He’d been here before; Chalk would simply come round on his own if he was left in peace. He leaned down, lifting up the surprisingly light form of the unicorn in his hooves and heaved him up the stairs to the upper level. At least here he could get Chalk’s gear off him and clean him up a bit, that would help for when he came back to the land of the living. Bracken took out his cleaning cloth and his canteen. It was supposed to be for drinking, but a little wouldn’t hurt just to wipe down Chalk’s face at least. Dampening the cloth, he began cleaning around Chalks muzzle, his mouth, nose, ears, eyes…he was covered in blood…

“Chalky?”

Nothing.

Bracken’s hooves dropped to his sides as he stared down at the limp body of his friend. He reached out a hoof and felt around to see if he could find a heart beat, but he was so covered in gore it was hard to clear enough away to reach the unicorn below. Bracken closed his eyes, casting his mind back to basic training, the basics of medical aid…

“Check airways” Bracken said to himself quietly, trying to picture the lecture, the room full of disinterested and bored students.

He levered Chalk’s mouth open. It was clear.

“Check for a heartbeat” He leaned his ear next to Chalk’s mouth, but there was nothing; no telltale sound of breathing and even his chest remained still.

“Mirror…” Bracken searching in his pack for his cleaning kit, finding the small travel mirror in his wash kit. Pulling it out, he held it in front of Chalk’s mouth to see if his breath misted it. But it too, showed the despairing stallion what he already suspected.

Bracken manouvered Chalk’s body into a position where he could try one last thing. Sinking to his haunches beside his fallen friend, he checked his airway was clear and placed his hooves on his chest ready to start compression. His instructors had told him that at this stage, without magical intervention, the patient was most likely too far gone, but there was no way in this goddess forsaken world he would…

There was a scraping sound behind him.

Bracken froze, his hooves reaching for his sword. The sound was getting louder, and it was coming from the doorway. A sudden wave of realisation washed over him…and anger. Pushing himself up, he scooted into the corner and extinguished the lantern. The sound grew louder.

Bracken waited. With a final scrape, the door swung open fully, and the familiar figure of a silver coated stallion walked in, looking around himself. But this pony wasn’t showing any signs of nervousness, nor fear, no…he was looking for something, or rather, somepony. Dulled sunlight flowed into the room behind him, illuminating the broken form of Chalky, his white coated so slick and matted with blood he looked like he’d been flayed. Brindle however, instead of being shocked at the horrific sight, chuckled,

“My darlin’s didn’t like their dinner eh?” The old stallion walked up to the unicorn and prodded him with a hoof, “Still kickin’? Huh! Guess them’s is picky too sometimes.” He leaned down and lifted up Chalk’s pack, “Nah then, let’s see what goodies yer brought fer old Brindle,” he opened the pack and peered inside, “then we kin see what yer pal has fer me too.”

Wait…Chalk was ‘still kicking’? He was still alive? A spark of hope flickered in Bracken’s heart, the feeling surging through him, fighting the other emotions that were beginning to vie for his attention. But one won out, its insidious tendrils snaking their way through his mind and heart; he welcomed it, revelled in it. Bracken narrowed his eyes and focussed.

“Guess we’ll leave yer, then” Brindle muttered, throwing Chalk’s pack over his shoulder, “I’ll put yer wit the rest later.”

“Don’t…bucking…move.”

The silver stallion froze, clucking his tongue in annoyance,

“Missed ya did they?”

Bracken flicked off the safety on his crossbow,

“What have you done, Brindle?”

“Me?” The old stallions grinned, “Ah ain’t done nuttin! Ah came ta rescue ya.”

Bracken levelled the crossbow, the deadly point aiming right at the old stallions head,
“Let’s assume for a moment I don’t believe a single bucking word you say.” He said his hoof twitching on the release lever, “Let’s also assume that if I even begin to suspect the next words out of your filthy are lies as well, I’ll paint that wall with your stinking brains.”

“Ya wouldn’t murder an old pony in old blood, would yer?” Brindle sneered.

Bracken smiled back at him, “I’ve killed thestrals, I’ve killed minotaurs, what makes you think I wouldn’t kill some weasly old murderer like you? You’re not fit to lick my shoes.”

“Murderer?” Brindle asked innocently, “How can ya say…”

“-Shut your mouth or I’ll drop you where you stand you damned vermin!” Bracken snarled, the anger and hatred he felt, burning through his veins. Goddesses, he wanted to kill this scum, he wanted so badly to send his reeking soul straight to the afterlife in a burning screaming mess of writhing agony, “What have done to my friend?”

“Ah haven’t d…” Brindle paused. The old stallion licked his lips and looked round at the crossbow pointing at him. He took a breath and started again, “The critters ‘ere av a poison in their bite, sends a pony into shock, stuns ‘em right good.” He grinned cruelly, “Stops ‘em movin’ while they feed. Don’t likes ‘em kickin’ see.” Brindle’s eyes took on a look of unimaginable cruelty, “He kin still here ya though, still see ya…an’ he kin feel…everythin’”

If the stallion was trying to unsettle Bracken, it didn’t work. As horrifying and sickening as the fate of the other ponies in the room below must have been, all he was focussed on now was getting his friend and himself out alive. But there was one thing he needed to know,

“You have an antidote?”

Brindle shrugged, “Might ‘av? What’s it worth ta yer?”

Bracken hefted the crossbow, “Your life.”

The stallion shrugged, “Guess ya got me, boy.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pottery bottle.

“Put it on the floor, nice and slow.” Bracken instructed, “Any funny moves and you’ll be going to meet those ponies you’ve murdered, and I don’t think they’ll be exactly happy to see you.”

Brindle snorted, pushing the bottle towards Bracken who pocketed it quickly,

“Now, pick him up, and his gear...”

Bracken walked out first, checking the area was clear, watching the angles, the high places, the possible danger points. All his military training, the hours of drills and schooling, all flooding back as if responding to his unspoken need. The old stallion followed him out cautiously, his cold eyes never leaving him. At Bracken’s signal, he lowered the still form of Chalk to the ground,

“Right, ya got yer friend, now what?”

Bracken’s expression never wavered, “I want you to go back in,”

“WHAT?!”

“That’s right.” Bracken said, calmly, “I want you to go back in, and collect every single one of these you find.” He waved the identity tag in front of the silver stallion, “Every…single…one.”

“But…”

Bracken lifted the crossbow, “Goodbye, Brindle.”

“No! Wait…” Brindle hung his head, “Ah’ll do it, just…just wait.”

Without another word, the silver stallion lifted up his lantern and disappeared down the steps. Bracken watched him go, then let out the pent up breath he’d been holding in. Quickly, he put down the crossbow and went to Chalk’s side, lifting his head. As gently as he could, Bracken pried open his friend’s mouth and poured in the clear liquid from the pottery bottle. Chalk didn’t swallow, the liquid simply pooling in his mouth. His heart thumping hard, Bracken held the unicorn’s mouth shut and lifted his head, stroking his neck gently but firmly, all the while praying silently to whichever of the goddesses would listen and lend their aid. Finally, with a choking gasp, Chalk’s body spasmed and was still. Bracken allowed himself a small smile of relief; it was the first sign of life he’d seen from the white unicorn since he’d collapsed in the crystal chamber. Now, he’d have to…

“Here! Ah’ve got ‘em all.”

Brindle stood in the doorway, holding a bunch of identity tags in his mouth.

“Throw them over here” Bracken called, walking over to him. The silver stallion complied, backing away as the black earth pony advanced on him, drawing his sword.

“Hang on! Yer said yer wouldn’t kill me!”

Bracken paused, “I did didn’t I?” he said scratching his chin, “Tell me, Brindle, did those ponies down there beg and plead for their lives? Did they come here, thinking you were helping them too?”

The old stallion remained silent.

“You did this, all of this, so you could rob them, didn’t you? Your house is full of the things you stole from the bodies of the ponies you murdered.”

Silence.

Bracken looked away for a moment to his friend, to the pile of tags, and closed his eyes. One of his mother’s favourite passages from the ‘book of the moon’ came to mind. His voice was low, cold and devoid of emotion as he glared unadulterated hatred at the evil pony before him,

“As ye sow, so shall ye reap.”

“Wha…?”

Bracken span, his kick taking the old pony off his hooves and throwing him backwards down the stairs into a sprawling heap. Calmly, Bracken walked to the door and pressed the panel beside it, the one with the fresh scuff marks on he wished he’d seen before this horrible experience had begun. In the darkening room, Brindle pulled himself back to his hooves and made for the door,

“No! Yer can’t!”

“Oh, yes I can, Brindle” Bracken snarled, “Listen…your friends are waiting for you.” The chittering and squeaking coming from further back in the room was getting louder by the second, “They sound hungry. Won’t you join them for dinner?”

“You…!”

The door slammed shut just as the screaming began, the blood chilling sound cut dead, leaving the open surface of the island as quiet as a graveyard. And, in many ways, that was exactly what it was.

A fleeting feeling of regret sparked in Bracken’s heart, which his quickly quashed. It was a just end, an end that seemed…’fitting’ somehow. Yes, he thought to himself, most fitting. He lifted Chalk onto his back and carried him back to the boat which, thankfully, wasn’t too far. Bracken shook his head sadly as he lowered his friend in; he weighed so little, even with his pack. His friend…he had to get him help, proper help. Bracken made the unresponsive unicorn as comfortable as possible with the blankets and cloaks. It might not look pretty, but it would keep the worst of the cold and water off him. After packing the rest of their gear into the small craft, the black stallion pushed it out into the water, running out the oars and, after a few false starts, heaved them into the flow of the river. He looked up at the sky; they were losing the light already, the sun sinking below the horizon somewhere behind the mass of lead grey clouds. Bracken shook his mane. Brindle had been right about one thing, it was beginning to rain. Still, he reasoned, anything was better than staying on that island, and right now, he never wanted to see another crystal as long as he lived.

***************************

“HEY! Hey up there, give us a hoof! I’ve got a hurt pony here!”

The appaloosa stallion on the dock peered over the edge,

“Hang on, I’ll get somepony.” The spotted pony disappeared, his hoofsteps fading into the distance.

Bracken finished tying the boat up and checked on Chalk. He still looked painfully drawn, his face sunken and his eyes had never opened all the way to Drakestown, but at least he looked like he was breathing…barely. By the looks of it, the tidal wave of war hadn’t affected this place, or at least not yet. Still, the town had always been considered ‘out of the way’ from most trading routes, with the exception being the river. One of the advantages of this place though was that they had a clinic, rather than the usual local quack like the one they had back home.

“Ahoy! Somepony said you needed help?”A voice called down.

“Yes!” Bracken called up to the bronze coloured stallion looking down at him, “My friend’s hurt, I need to get him to the clinic.”

“No problem, friend.” The stallion turned to somepony beside him and a stretcher attached to ropes suddenly appeared over the edge, “Can you get him on here?”

He could, all too easily. Chalk weighed so little, it was like lifting a sack of feathers. Bracken’s heart felt like it was being squeezed, yet as much as it hurt him, he had a single focus, and that was to get his friend help as quickly as possible.

“Okay!” The bronze pony called down, “He tied on okay? We’re going to bring him up.”

Bracken waved a hoof.

“Right boys, haul away!”

Chalk shot up the side of the dock like a cork from a bottle, the ponies on the dock muttering to one another about how light he was. Bracken ignored them, busying himself with collecting their gear and hauling himself up the steep steps to the top of the dock.

The small group of ponies parted, the bronze stallion, apparently the one in charge, shook his mane and motioned to Bracken’s numerous packs,

“Help him get them on the cart boys and we’ll load this chap on too.” The bronze coated pony directed the dockside team like a conductor with an orchestra. Everypony seemed to know exactly what to do, and were good at what they did. Sure enough, a cart had been brought up, clearly in anticipation of taking an injured pony to the clinic. What they didn’t expect was the blood soaked appearance of Chalk Dust, and that was only the part of him Bracken had been able to wipe down. His friends white coat made him look like he’d been cut to ribbons. The appaloosa stallion shook his head sadly,

“Friend, I don’t think he’s…”

“He’s alive!” Bracken snapped unintentionally, “He’s…look, i’m sorry, I know it looks bad, but believe me, he’s just in shock, that’s all.”

“No time.” The bronze pony said urgently, trotting up to Bracken, “You want a ride in the back or your hooves good?”

Bracken shook his head, “I need a stretch, sir, and…thanks.”

“Never mind that now,” the stallion replied, waving to his team, “you can get me a wheat beer later if you like.”

The group headed out along the cobbled streets, the clatter of their hooves, along with the rumble of the cart’s wheels sounded deafeningly loud as it echoed off the buildings. Taking one corner and then the next, Bracken felt his spirits lift slightly as the familiar large blue cross and horseshoe sign of the clinic appeared, swinging slightly in the breeze. The bronze stallion ran up the short flight of steps to the door and hammered on it,

“Doc, DOC! We got an injured pony here! DOC!”

A window opened above the door followed by a purple muzzle,

“What the hells going on? Gal? Is that you? What’s all the…” the male unicorn suddenly took in the pony lying in the cart, “Hang on, I’m coming down.”

A few agonisingly long seconds passed before the door was pulled open by the good Doctor. He’d donned a white coat, stethoscope and was busy pulling on a pair of round lens spectacles,

“Get him inside quickly, straight onto the table if you please.”

The bronze pony nodded to his team, “Okay, boys, you heard the pony.”

Bracken followed the rest of them inside, feeling in an odd way like little more than a bystander. He’d wanted to help Chalk himself, but without medical knowledge, what could he do? The two of them had relied on each other for so long, to now be only able to stand by and watch was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. Thankfully, it looked like the doctor knew what he was doing.

The ponies deposited their charge onto a long table in a cleanly scrubbed room, with large windows providing a surprisingly good level of light. The blankets were removed and the bloodied and gore soaked pony beneath was revealed, much to the shocked mutterings of the dock workers. The doctor looked up at Bracken, his expression, by comparison to the others, was completely neutral,

“Are you his friend?”

“Yes, Sir” Bracken replied.

“Tell me what happened to him, and be to the point.”

“Yes, Sir.” Bracken dumped the packs and bags behind him as he explained, “We were attacked by these small blue creatures. We fought them off, but Chalky was swamped by them. I believe they carry some sort of venom, but he’s had an antidote for it. He’s not moved since.”

As Bracken talked, the doctor examined the still unmoving unicorn, instructing his now numerous volunteers to begin cleaning their patient while he worked. With some relief, Bracken noticed the doctor listening to his friend’s chest and nodding. Maybe there wasn’t much in it, but it was still a spark of hope that he clung to desperately as he watched the purple unicorn at work.

There was a commotion from outside and a white coated unicorn mare hurried in,

“Doctor Alright, one of the ponies from the dock said we had an emergency?”

“Ah, Nurse Chess, thank you.” The doctor waved towards a medicine cabinet full of brightly coloured bottles of liquid, “Bring me the Equiphrine and Smirfactin Antivenom, please.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

There was a dreadful sense of tension in the room as the doctor worked. Back and forth the medical ponies moved like choreographed dancers as various items of equipment, bottles, tubes, and the goddesses knew what else, quickly began to appear around the bed with the pathetic figure of Chalk Dust at the centre of it all.

Bracken nearly jumped out of his skin when a quiet voice beside him spoke,

“You were on that island weren’t you?”

“We were,” Bracken replied to the bronze earth pony, “Some old stallion tricked us into going into a room and locked us in there with these blue things.”

“Who was it?” The pony asked, casting a glance back at the doctor.

“Called himself Brindle,” Bracken replied, “a silver earth stallion.”

Gal’s brow pulled down, “Brindle? Dear goddesses, are you sure that was his name?”

“I’ll never forget him as long as I live,” Bracken said in hushed tones, “did you know him?”

“Did? You mean?” The stallion shook his head sadly, “Yes, most folk in town did. He used to travel up here and trade for food and other supplies. He always had interesting things for sale too.” He sighed, “There’ve been a lot of disappearances along the river over the years, but we put it down to the treacherous currents that can spring up around there. That island’s flooded for a good part of the year, and most give it a wide birth. Many of us knew Brindle from way back, when he worked as a river pilot in his younger days. He moved into a village nearby when he retired, saying he would keep ponies away from the place.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his face, “I’d like to say you were wrong about him, but…” he trailed off. “The names Galliard, but you can call be Gal.”

Bracken reached up and shook his hoof, “Bracken, Brack to my friends. Thanks, Gal, to you and your ponies. We would have been in a mess without your help.”

“I don’t think your friends out of the woods yet, Brack,” Gal said, “We’ve had ponies here before who’ve been bitten by those things, but not for a long time.”

“What the hell were they?” Bracken asked, “I’ve never heard of anything like them before.”

“Pixies” Gal said quietly, “Nasty bloody things. They mostly live in caves, usually up north apparently where the cold suits them.”

“That old rat…” Bracken hissed, “We thought he was pulling our leg about them.” He shook his mane, “I bet he got a kick out of that one.”

Gal gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder,

“Don’t worry too much, Brack, doc Alright knows his stuff.”

Bracken nodded. Goddess, his hoped so, but by the look of the ongoing work on his friend, it looked like there would be a long day of worrying and waiting ahead.

*****************

“Mister Bracken?”

The black stallion opened his eyes. Damn! He must have dozed off. The stress and panic, not to mention piloting that bloody boat all night had taken him to the point of exhaustion. He looked up hopefully into the eyes of the doctor,

“How is he?”

The doctor shook his head, “I won’t lie to you Mister Bracken, your friends in a bad way.” He pulled up a chair and wiped his forehead with a cloth, “I’ve seen Pixie venom injuries before, but never so many.”

“But…” Bracken stammered, “I gave him the antidote, wasn’t it enough?”

“Enough to keep him alive until I could give him enough,” doctor Alright replied, “but i’m afraid that’s only half of it. Did Chalky use a lot of magic recently?”

Bracken nodded, “When those things swarmed us, he did, yes. If he hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here now.”

“No doubt,” Alright said, “Tell me, Bracken, have you heard of ‘magical burnout’?” Bracken shook his head. “It’s when a unicorn pushes him or herself beyond what they could normally achieve, rather like expelling all the air from your lungs, but pushing…” the doctor waved his hooves for emphasis, “so hard you actually pass out.”

“I’ve…” Bracken paused, thinking back to…he shook his head. Oh goddesses, the school! “Yes,” he said solemnly, “He’s done it before, and he ended up unconscious then too. But even so, it was years ago and he wasn’t as bad as this.”

“Hmm.” The doctor scrubbed his chin in thought, “Interesting. Mister Bracken, your friend is suffering from what looks like a high level of stress, together with shock from his injuries and the Pixie venom, but also burnout.”

“But…he will get better though, won’t he?” Bracken asked hopefully.

Doctor Alright clopped Bracken on the knee,

“We’ll know in the next few hours. If he gets through them, he should make a good recovery.”

Bracken’s heart sank, “’Good’ recovery? Not, ‘Full’ recover?”

The purple stallion shook his head, “Bracken, your friend nearly fried his own brain. I know you’re not a unicorn and unlikely to know what it feels like to expend a great deal of magical energy, but believe me when I tell you, your body can only take so much before something ‘gives’.” He scratched his mane and yawned, “If Chalky recovers, he won’t be able to use magic like that again or else next time, may well be the last time. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

Bracken hung his head, “Yes,” he said quietly, “I do.”

“Good.” Doctor Alright said smiling suddenly, “He’s a lucky pony to have a friend like you, Bracken, a very lucky pony indeed. Now, do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”

“No,” Bracken said, his heart sinking, “I came straight here.”

“Well, I’d invite you to stay here, but there’s precious little room. I’d suggest you go see Wood Tick at the Panned Ferret, he’ll put you up and…” he gave Bracken a poke in the chest, grinning, “You need a bath.”

“But…”

“But nothing,” Doctor Alright said bluntly, fixing Bracken with a hard look “If he gives you any trouble tell him I sent you. Now,” he patted Bracken’s leg again, “don’t worry about young Chalk Dust here, he’s in good hooves. Come see me in the morning, around ten.”

Bracken nodded, “Oh…okay, doctor.”

Outside, it was pitch black other than for the small pools of light cast by the large street lanterns which a thin yellow pegasus mare was busy lighting with a long taper. The tavern however, wasn’t hard to find thanks to the bright light spilling from its leaded windows, rowdy chatter and the loud music. Bracken paused. Memories of Spurs Anvil pushed through his consciousness vying for his attention, each one more unpleasant than the last. He shook his head. This was wasn’t the Full Moon, it wasn’t Spurs Anvil…Damn it! What was wrong with him? He was nearly home! Bracken wasn’t a nervous pony normally, but after everything that had been going on lately, not to mention having an inexplicable gaping hole in his memory, he was fast approaching breaking point, and he knew it. He needed a bath, food, and a good nights sleep or else he’d be no good to anypony, least of all his best friend. He gave himself a good shake, and with a whinny, trotted purposefully for the tavern door.

The Panned Ferret was in full swing. A typical small town tavern, it had been his semi-regular haunt with Chalk from when they’d been old enough to be allowed drinks. Bracken, being the larger of the two and considerably bulkier, had always looked the oldest. As such, he’d often been the one to buy the drinks from the not so vigilant bar mare. He’d all too quickly discovered alcohol and its effects, as had the easily inebriated white unicorn as it turned out. Chalk, apparently, couldn’t hold his drink that well and would suddenly consider himself to be an accomplished acrobat after several pints. Bracken smiled at the memory; how the daft bugger hadn’t fallen off the dock wall was anyponies guess. Tonight, music was being played by an enthusiastic group of ponies, who actually appeared to be really quite good. Bracken pushed his way to bar through the throng and looked over to the musicians, recognising the chorus of, ‘Rat in the bed’. He loved that tune…

“What can I get you, flower?”

Bracken smiled at the charcoal coated mare behind the bar. Something nostalgic sounded nice,

“A wheat beer and a room, please”

“Doc Alright’s sent word you were coming,” she passed him a large iron key, “Room five’s been reserved for you. We’ll send up a hot meal at eight and the bath house is out the back. This time of night, the water will be at its best.”

“Thanks,” Bracken nodded, “Busy tonight.”

“Aye, it’s all the refugees,” the bar mare said matter-of-factly, “been flooding in for weeks.” She leaned in conspiratorially, “I reckon it’s them Legion characters; has them right scared. Good for trade though.”

“Any news from Wellford Springs?” Bracken asked.

“Nah,” she shook her head, “not for a while. Last we heard all the younger ones had gone off to fight and only the really young and old were left behind. You from there?”

“Yeah,” Bracken replied taking a mouthful of his beer, closing his eyes as the foaming brew slipped down his throat, “Once my pal’s back on his hooves, we’re going home.”

“Don’t blame you” She nodded to him and hurried off to serve another customer, leaving Bracken to ponder.

The bar mare hadn’t been exaggerating; the tavern was overflowing with ponies he’d never seen before, all of them crammed in like sardines. He still tried to see if the bronze pony was there with his fellow dockworkers, but of his new found friends, there was no sign. Bracken shrugged. As much as he’d like to share a pint with Gal and his ponies, he doubted they’d appreciate him passing out in front of them from exhaustion. He finished his drink and headed for his room where he dumped his gear, locked the door and trotted down the back stairs to the familiar bathhouse.

Steam greeted him, with all its warm tantalising allure. On a cold night like this, the bathhouse was often packed out, but if you got the time right, then you could enjoy the water for yourself…most of time. The large round bath tubs were arranged in a wide circle, with steps leading up to each one with a pony ferrying towels and soaps to the washing area at the far end. Bracken sat himself down on the raised, slotted planking and dumped a bucket of warm water over himself, nearly shrieking in shock at the sensation. Another bucket, and then another, the warmth soaking through his fur felt like heaven sent. Goddesses, he could get used to this! Still, a good soaping was next, along with the bath house supplied curry combs and brushes. He shrugged to himself; no mares to help him this time. It was a shame really, it had all felt ridiculously wonderful, if a little embarrassing. He sighed, remembering the feeling of Pickles’ warm fur against his own, her beautiful pink mane and those large lantern yellow eyes…he hoped she was alright.

Soon, soaped, rinsed and with most of the tangles out of his hair, Bracken walked up the steps to the nearest steaming tub and walked down the steps into the hot water. He closed his eyes and groaned; how something could feel so good was beyond imagination…

Chapter Twenty Five - Beat to Quarters

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

BEAT TO QUARTERS

“Steady as she goes, Mister Haggis”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n”

The wind here was strange, unlike anything Gretel had even experienced before. The visibility was down to little more than one hundred yards at times. The lookouts had been doubled with extra crewponies on the bow, but it didn’t do much to dispel her concerns. She didn’t like this, the way the clouds swirled and billowed, it was almost as if they were inside the lungs of some huge beast. And that sound! It was a low, moaning, groaning sound on the edge of hearing which had she’d noticed not long after entering the cloud sea. That, together with the background stink of sulphur, had her noise itching as much as the hairs were prickling along her back.

“Strange weather, Captain.”

Stock trotted up the steps to the quarterdeck, wiping the damp from his muzzle.

“Aye, Master Stock,” Gretel said, tapping the hilt of her sword, “Thoughts?”

Stock shook his head, “None of them helpful, Captain. The crew are as ready as they can be.”

Gretel nodded, more to herself than her officer. She still couldn’t help but feel there was something off about this venture and her nervousness reverberated through the Revenge whenever she let her feelings bubble to the surface. Still, life onboard had been a lot better since Cyclone and Stock had ‘made up’, for want of a better word. The mint green pegasus mare had wasted no time moving into the cabin with Stock, much to the scandalised delight of the crew. Gretel had approved of the pairing of course, if for no other reason than the final removal of the constant tension that had existed between them since Eve had been killed, but the reality was, she genuinely felt like the two were meant to be together. Cyclone and Even Song had come to her broken and tortured souls, and she’d given them a home aboard ship, but Eve was….Gretel shook her head. It didn’t matter anymore, Eve was gone, and at long last Cyclone was happy and, surprisingly, so was the usually monotone hulking mass of a stallion called Stock.

The Captain raised an eyebrow at the thought of the huge Stock and the slender form of Cyclone and giggled to herself at the crude and altogether far too graphic thoughts entering her head. She leaned her head back and sighed. Goddess above, she really missed Chalky.

A shout from the crows nest made the whole crew pause what they were doing and look up,

“LAND HO!”

The lookout called down to the Captain,

“Land! Two point to port.”

Gretel shouted down to the helm,

“Mister Haggis, bring us in nice and easy.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

Stock lifted up his telescope and focussed on the dark shadow the Revenge was now cautiously approaching,

“Looks like a mountain, Captain.”

“No…” Gretel replied quietly, lowering her own telescope, “Not this, it’s too big.” She shook her head slowly in wonder as the large land mass became increasingly more defined, “I’ve heard of floating islands before, but never thought I’d see one in Equestria.”

“Pegasi?” Stock asked.

The Captain shook her head, “My guess would be Griffins”

The brown stallion scratched his neck, his brow furrowed, “But the magic needed to make an island float would be incredible. From what I understand, griffin magic isn’t like the stuff unicorn’s use.”

“You can say that again!” An enthusiastic voice announced beside them, “My horn’s itching like mad!”

Gretel jumped back in surprise, “Gah! Bloody hell! Where do you keep popping up from?”

“As much as it’s thrilling to explore your incredible vessel, Captain, I was getting a little bored stuck down there all the time,” Strata explained as he walked up to the balustrade, “besides, every ship needs a good unicorn on board. It’s common sense!”

“Now, just a minute!” Gretel began, but she was interrupted by another shout from one of the lookouts,

“Cap’n! Looks like a griffin approaching from the landward side.”

Clucking her tongue, she pushed the smiling unicorn aside and trotted down to the main deck, nodding to the Bosun whose silently waved directions were all the crew needed to understand what was required: to be ready for anything. Whether the approaching griffin realised it was being tracked by dozens of crossbows apparently made little difference to the creature as it flew up and alighted boldly upon the main deck.

It was a silver-grey beast with a viciously hooked beak and copper eyes that flashed menacingly. Several of the crew backed away, intimidated by the strange and aggressive manner of the newcomer, whilst others reached for swords or levelled their crossbows. Gretel by comparison, nonchalantly trotted down to the deck and bobbed her head in greeting. The creature stared at her,

“Who are you?”

Gretel smiled politely, trying not to show her irritation at the griffin’s lack of decorum,

“I am Captain Gretel of the King Sombra’s Revenge. Who may I…”

“-You are violating territory of Lord Rapere,” The griffin cut in, “leave here immediately.”

“No.”

The creature’s eyes bulged, clearly one who was used to getting their own way through intimidation. It opened its beak to speak but Gretel was there first, advancing on the creature,

“If you would care to read this,” She hoofed over the scroll from Hay Wain, “I think you’ll find everything to be in order.”

The griffin stared at the scroll for a moment, clearly deep in thought. Silently, Gretel glanced across at Stock who gave an almost imperceptible nod; So far, so good.

“I will need to present this to the elder,” the griffin said in its squawky tongue, “follow me down to the dock and wait. You will not leave your vessel unless specifically instructed, do you understand?”

Gretel nodded, “Oh, I think so.”

Without another word, the silver-grey bird like creature flapped its large wings and leaped over the side of the ship.

“Follow that griffin, Mister Haggis.” Gretel smirked. She’d have to remember that line for her log, maybe even for her memoirs one day.

The Revenge slowly followed the griffin down to a large docking area, complete with a timbered jetty that lead up to a set of equally grand buildings. Gretel scratched her rump in thought, not very lady like, she’d admit, but by the goddess…what a sight! She’d heard of floating islands before of course, it was always a popular subject for stories when everypony had sunk one too many drinks, but nopony really believed they actually existed, did they? But this…this quite literally was exactly what it appeared to be: an entire island, just sitting there, floating in the sky. Gretel stared in amazement. There was grass, rocks, even some small trees and bushes. The sight was simply breathtaking, and probably would have been even more magnificent if it hadn’t been for the ever present cloud that covered everything in damp, including her fur.

Stock and Cyclone quickly had the crew stationed and the ship prepared for a fast departure if things went awry. Gretel looked out at the buildings in the distance. Every one of them was a potential goldmine of bits, each producing, she suspected, an exotic array of goods that were both expensive, and deadly. Griffins weren’t fussy who they sold death to either; nearby a large airship was docked, with a number of peculiarly large hairy beasts busily engaged in loading crates into the heavy looking gondola that was suspended beneath a thick network of cabling and ropes that connected it to the immense air bags above. Stock walked up to her,

“Yaks. Don’t see them very often.”

“Don’t want to either,” Gretel replied dismissively, “brutal, ignorant beasts.”

Stock sniffed, “I hear they pay well.”

“Not well enough for my liking,” the Captain said shaking her head, “they’re too unpredictable. You thought the Legion was bad, that lot make minotaurs look like fuzzy bunnies in caparison.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever look at another rabbit the same way again”, Stock chuckled.

Gretel couldn’t help but smile. It was still hard for her to imagine the gruff Stock even smiling, let alone chuckling! Yet here was was, doing exactly that. Not that long ago, getting more than two syllables out of him at a time was a marathon task. How he actually managed to do his job while barely speaking was a miracle in itself, but since he’d been ‘re-united’ in a manner of speaking, with Cyclone, well…he was certainly a lot more animated. The crew had noticed the change too, and the mood on the ship had become a lot more ‘jolly’ somehow. She leaned her hooves on the railing, watching a small party of griffins walking towards them. ‘Jolly’ she thought to herself absently, was certainly not a word she’d use to describe these miserable looking sods. Every one of them looked like they’d been steeped in misery and vomited out when they’d become thoroughly pickled in bitterness.

The silver-grey griffin bowed his head to the large golden one who walked up the gangplank and onto the deck as if he belonged there,

“You are Captain Gretel?”

“Apparently” The red mare smiled cheekily, “And to whom am I speaking?”

“I am Head Constructor Trill. I understand you wish to speak to us regarding an business opportunity?”

“Indeed”, Gretel replied, “Would you care to join me in my cabin?”

“I…” the griffin paused as another of his companions, a dark blue and black speckled griffin whispered something in his ear. Trill cleared his throat, “Thank you Captain, however negotiations will be carried out in my office.”

“Very well.”

Stock brushed Gretel shoulder with his hoof, his voice low as he spoke,

“Captain, I don’t like this. That blue one’s got a look about him.”

Gretel nodded, “I know what you mean. Stay here with the ship, I’ll take a couple of the crew with me. At the first sign of trouble, get the Revenge out of here.”

Stock stepped round until he was face to face with her,

“Gretel, I won’t leave you behind! I…”

“Master Stock,” the Captain said levelly, “You will follow my orders. The Revenge will answer her helm to you and Cyclone, I felt the connection as I know you did too.” She clopped him on the shoulder, “Now, stop being a bloody worry wart, you’re making me nervous.”

Minutes later, Gretel, along with two of her crew acting as escorts, followed the griffins back down the gangplank and headed off towards a set of buildings further along from the dock. Here, the air was fresher, clearer, and devoid of the cloying dampness of the surrounding cloud. Birds flew overhead, their melodic calls a welcome musical counterpoint to their unspeaking hosts. The party walked in silence up to the steps of a whitewashed building that appeared to be an unusual mix of military and civilian architecture, as if the designer had had a change of heart halfway through the construction. It certainly looked functional though, especially the large multi-shot catapults that sat atop the small towers.

Trill lead them up a flight of stairs to a brightly lit lobby and bade them sit whilst he himself disappeared through a large set of black wooden doors. Gretel and her crew sat and stared about themselves in silent fascination. The room they were in was surprisingly grand considering the lack of people in there, but it was quite clear from the wear on the seating that the spaciousness of the lobby had been intentional…and practical. Large columns, potted plants and paintings of various landscapes gave the impression of barely restrained opulence and was no doubt intended to impress upon those waiting of the sheer power and wealth of the griffins they were dealing with. Gretel could only wonder at the deals that had gone on here over the years; the ponies, yaks, llamas and the goddess knew how many other peoples who had traded for more and more interesting ways to kill one another. She dropped into one of the hard seats and rubbed her face with her hooves. Suddenly, the prospect of all that money didn’t seem to have quite the same appeal that it once had. One of the crew tapped her on the leg - Trill had re-appeared,

“Captain Gretel, this way please. Lord Rapere will see you now.”

Lord Repere’s office was more like a reception room for a palace. Tiled floors, marble pillars, statuary, it was all incredibly ostentatious. Gretel’s crew stared open mouthed at the sight, while she herself walked on, self assured and smiling to herself. If all of this worked out, they could probably afford to buy this island, and the factories even. She could see herself now, sitting behind the huge marble table covered in gold and ivory ink wells and quill holders, rather than the beady eyed black feathered griffin that was peering at her over the top of Hay Wain’s scroll.

“My Lord,” Trill bowed, “Captain Gretel of the King Sombra’s Revenge.”

Rapere waved him off absently, his attention fixed on the scroll,

“Captain Gretel, this…missive, does not appear to carry any description of the goods I presume you are here to ‘purchase’.” He drummed one of his claws on the table, producing a drumming sound that made the Captains ears twitch.

“That’s right,” She said nodding to the scroll, “It’s a promise of payment for safe and full delivery, into the hold of our ship, of two hundred barrels of magical explosive.”

The black griffin froze, his claw stopping in mid drum. He stared at her, his eyes narrowing,

“That…is a lot of ‘product’, Captain.” His voice suddenly sounded a lot less self assured than it had a moment ago, “To produce such a cargo would mean reneging on other agreements which we have currently. Now, should you wish to return in a month or two, I may be able to…”

Lord Rapere’s eyes went wide as Gretel banged her hoof on the edge of his desk,

“Forgive me, Lord Rapere,” she said smiling broadly, “but I am in rather a hurry. If you cannot help us, we will have to conclude our business here and seek our ‘product’ elsewhere”

Rapere laughed, his squawking voice echoing around the large empty room,

“There is nowhere else! You will need to either come back in a month or else…”

“-Well, I guess that concludes our negotiations.” The Captain leaned forward and snatched Hay Wain’s scroll from the desk, “Come on boys, we’ll tell Mister Wain we couldn’t do business and return his note. I’m sure he can provide us with other profitable work.”

“WAIT!” Rapere said, jumping up from his chair, “Damn it, pony, why does everything need to be done right now?” he paced angrily, “Trill, come with me for a minute would you. Captain, please take a seat while I discuss matters with my…assistant.”

Gretel waved a hoof, “Aye, you go right ahead.”

The Captain settled herself back into the seat,

“May as well get comfortable boys,” she said happily, “we may be here for a while.”

The three of them waited. Gretel stretched her legs and yawned, looking about the plush room. It was magnificent, if a little big for her tastes. She liked the plants, the big green ferns looked delicious and the paintings of landscapes were especially nice too. Not that a cabin was really the best place for ferns and paintings that were half the size of the room, but a pony could dream couldn’t she? Soon, Gretel’s mind began to wander, the boredom of just sitting around wasn’t something she liked to do, especially when in unfamiliar surroundings. Certainly, on long voyages, that was often what you just had to do…hang around, but here it was more noticeable somehow.

The door opened.

“Captain Gretel,” Lord Rapere began, “I have spoken with my assistant and checked our work schedules. If we re-schedule some of our work, then we could have the two hundred barrels to you by this afternoon. This is, I hope you understand, highly unusual and we wouldn’t normally be making such a…gesture, to just anypony.”

No, Gretel thought to herself, and it had nothing to do with a promise of payment from a prominent trading figure by the name of Hay Wain, a fellow griffin no less. She always thought there was more to that sneaky old sod than met the eye.

Gretel nodded to him, “Thank you, Lord Rapere. I’ll have my crew make preparations to take the cargo aboard.” She hoofed Hay Wain’s scroll to him, “You’ll be needing that. I’ll add my ships seal to it once the cargo is loaded.”

“Good.” Rapere nodded, “A pleasure doing business with you, Captain Gretel.”

The red mare swept a bow, giving one of her crew a sly wink as she straightened up. It was time to go, and by the goddess, the way her heart was pounding she would need half a bottle of brandy to get her nerves back under control. Trill opened the doors and Gretel and her two crewponies trotted out into the waiting spears and loaded crossbows of a group of earth ponies.

Nopony moved a muscle, the tension in the air building at a terrifying pace until the dark blue griffin appeared again, this time with another all too familiar face,

“Impulse.” Gretel hissed, “You lousy rat, what are you doing here and what’s this all about?”

“Hello Gretel!” The cream earth pony smirked, “A pleasure to see you again! How longs it been? What, three years? Four? I can’t remember, but it seems like only yesterday.”

“Not bloody long enough, you old snake.” The Captain growled, “I’ll ask again, what’s this about?”

“About?” Impulse asked curiously, “Oh! Well, let’s see. Yes, that was it!” he clopped his hooves in all too obviously mock excitement, “I wanted to ask if you’ve reconsidered Captain Aeon’s generous offer!”

Gretel’s eyes narrowed, “Offer? Try ‘ultimatum’, Impulse, that was no bloody offer and you know it. Now,” she placed her hoof on her sword, “Get out of my way or I’ll finish what I should have four years ago.”

“Ooh! So exciteable!” Impulse laughed clopping his hooves together. His voice suddenly dropped to a leaden, deadly tone, “You are my prisoner, ‘Captain’, and if you or either of your companions make any sudden moves, I’ll kill the lot of you. Now,” he motioned to the crossbow holding ponies surrounding them, “Drop your weapons if you please.”

Gretel felt like she was going to be sick. What the hell was this scumbag doing here? Damn it all! And now the little piece of snot had the drop on them. Worse still however, was that wherever Impulse was, the Wind Wraith and her weasly Captain, Aeon, wouldn’t be far behind. A cold chill ran down her spine; The Revenge, the object of that scum’s insatiable avarice was just sitting there in the dock, unaware of what was doubtless lurking somewere in the cloud sea. She huffed out a breath and removed her sword; her two crew ponies following their Captain’s lead and dropping their weapons onto the tiled floor.

“Jolly good!” Impulse chirped happily, “Now, off we trot and we can wait for the Captain without any further unpleasantness. Won’t that be nice!”

“Delightful” Gretel rumbled, following the armed ponies off through the maze of corridors.

All she could hope for now, was that Stock would get wind that something was up and get the Revenge away safely.

*********************

As cells went, this one was more like a store room. In fact, Gretel suspected, that was precisely what it was. Judging by the layout of the island’s buildings she’d seen so far, the griffins didn’t appear to be the type to anticipate looking after prisoners. ‘Far more likely to eat them’, she thought to herself sarcastically. Those bloody beaked freaks! She should have known that Hay Wain would try something like this, he was one of them after all! Oh, it had all been a very well thought out plan, hadn’t it? Having them hoofed over to their arch rivals like so much cargo. She was surprised they hadn’t been damned well gift wrapped as well. The worst of it though, was that she’d lead them right into it like ignorant sheep following a wolf into its den.

“Whaddaya think’ll happen to us Cap’n?” The caramel coated mare asked, sitting in the corner.

Gretel let out a sigh, leaning against the wall, “I don’t know Butters, but i’ll do what I can to get us out of here.”

“They’ll be after the Revenge no doubt”, the pastel pink stallion staring out the door said morosely, “Those bloody griffins have sold us out, and our ship will be the price I reckon.”

As much as Gretel didn’t want to agree with the fellow, he was right, Aeon had been after the Revenge since her father’s day. He’d tried everything from attempting to buy her outright, to intimidation, and now…now he was willing to steal her at sword point? He’d stooped to a level now that surprised even her.

“Run Off, we don’t know for certain what’s going on here yet.” She replied, “Just sit tight while I try to work out some way we can get out of this mess.”

Sinking to her haunches, Gretel’s mind reeled from everything that had happened so far. Replaying events over and over in her head, she still couldn’t understand why Hay Wain would do this, other than the promise of a huge payout from Aeon. That old pirate certainly wasn’t short of a bit or two, but what she couldn’t understand was why Hay Wain would throw away the chance to make so much more money. She scratched her head furiously…why? Why would he do that? And what of Lord Rapere? He seemed just as surprised as she was! If anypony found out that he’d betrayed a client, his reputation would be…

“Psst! Cap’n, somepony’s comin’…”

Gretel moved away from the door, keeping quiet and low. Maybe…maybe if they were able to entice whoever it was near, and they could grab them, they may have a chance.

The sound of trotting grew nearer, paused, then moved, paused, then moved again. What the hell were they doing out there? Something didn’t seem right. Gretel sidled up to the door and strained to look up the corridor. Was somepony there? She couldn’t…

“Hello!”

Gretel nearly screamed. Without warning, the two large chestnut eyes of Strata appeared in front of her like dinner plates making her leap back, her heart racing fit to burst,

“What the hell?!”

“Fascinating place, isn’t it?” Strata said, levitating his notebook up as he wrote another note, “I wonder how they keep the island floating?” he took a huge intake of breath, “You don’t think this is a remnant of the Empire, do you?”

Gretel had the distinct impression the strange stallion was talking more to himself than her.

“I have to see!” He announced and began trotting off up the corridor once more.

Gretel pressed her muzzle up against the bars, “Strata! Get your arse back here!”

“Huh?”

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” The Captain hissed angrily, “We’re locked in!”

“Well that was careless.” Strata admonished, rolling his eyes, “You ought to be more careful you know.”

“Never bloody well mind that now, get us out!”

“The door’s open.”

“Wha?”

“I did it just now,” Strata lifted up a small crystal amulet and stared at it happily, his eyes gleaming with a strange inner light, “It’s incredible isn’t it?”

“Yes, it’s absolutely amazing,” Gretel sighed, pushing the door open, “now how the hell did you get in here without the guards seeing you?”

Strata looked puzzled for a moment and then smiled expansively, “With the amulet! It seems to make ponies not see you. Apparently it works on griffins too.”

Gretel walked out into the corridor, looking up and down for any signs of threat,

“So how come we see you?” she whispered, “you’re not invisible!”

The indigo coated unicorn shook his head, “No, not invisible. I’ve studied it for years, ever since I bought it from a trader. The best I can deduce is that it makes people ignore you, unless they actually know you personally. I call it the igno-amulet, get it? Like…’Ignore’ and…Eep!”

Strata squeaked as the Captain grabbed his shoulders,

“Look, Strata, just show us the way out of here and I’ll show you something truly amazing, something you’ll remember for the rest of your life. Deal?”

The indigo stallion’s eyes went wide, “Yes! My goodness, yes!” he tapped his amulet and nodded happily, “This way, Captain!”

If there was one thing to be said for griffin architecture, it was austere. The archways, pillars and walls were incredibly plain, yet functional. Everything had its place, each item a use. All the artistry, the carvings and display of wealth she’d seen in the lobby and the Lord’s office look like its intention had been exactly that that…display. Like a peacock displaying its feathers, the griffin Lord wanted to show off his fortune, to impress, or perhaps intimidate, potential trading partners. Gretel’s hackles went up; what had Aeon promised the griffins for this? Money? Favourable trading rights? She snarled, wishing the indigo pony would move his flank faster than a bloody trot!

“Cap’n!” Butters suddenly tapped her on the shoulder, “Armoury.”

Gretel and the others halted, all of them staring open mouthed through the archway into the largest collection of swords, crossbows and other weapons of war they’d ever seen. Gretel didn’t recognise half of the bizarre looking contraptions in the room, let alone understand their operation, but whatever they were, there was enough here to equip an entire army. Rack upon rack of gleaming weapons from small daggers to broadswords larger than any pony could hold, bows, crossbows, maces, flails…it was all sitting there, ready for packing. Their hooves echoed on the polished tiled floor as they walked in. The Captain smiled,

“Fill your boots, crew. You too, Mister Strata.”

The indigo stallion blinked in astonishment, looking about the room like a foal who’d been given the keys to a sweetshop and a trolley to fill. With no more ceremony, the four of them began grabbing weapons and gear, ramming them into brand new belts and packs which, conveniently, were also hanging up from hooks in the huge warehouse.

“My goddesses,” Run off gasped, “Who the hell is all of this for?”

“Anypony who has the bits”, Gretel replied calmly taking a pack of caltrops and dropping them into a pouch before slinging it over her head, “Death pays rather well it seems.” Her ears twitched suddenly, “Damn it! Take cover, somepony’s coming.”

Strata made a strangled noise as the Captains forelegs wrapped around his neck and pulled him into the shadows behind one of the large storage containers. Invisible to the griffins he may be, but the rest of them certainly weren’t and Gretel wanted to keep the ecitable unicorn close in case they needed to move quickly. Moments later, voices drifted in, gradually getting louder as they approached,

“…and I’m sure your Excellency will find the quality particularly fine on all of our merchandise.”

“Yak not like things that not fine, griffin. Quality need to be good or we will not trade.”

“Of course your Excellency.” The screeching voice of a griffin said, “Please, I invite you to select what you like from our stock. See for yourself, I don’t believe you will be disappointed.”

“At least until you betray these customers as well, you flying crap house.” Gretel stepped out into the light, her crossbow held in her forehooves as she balanced on her hind legs, “Go ahead you feathered freak, tell these customers how you sell out those you pretend to trade with.”

“What going on? Who this pony?” The hulking hairy creature standing beside the griffin rumbled, “What she say true? You betray us?” There was a sudden shifting of armour and weaponry as the two yaks flanking the one talking to the griffin, snorted angrily.

“NO!” the golden feathered griffin’s wings flared in panic, its eyes darting from the loaded crossbow to the snarling figure of the yaks, “I don’t know who she is! She must have snuck in here, a madmare! Guards! GUARDS!”

The griffin tried to back away behind a rack of weapons only to be grabbed by the outstretched foreleg of a grinning Run Off, “Make another sound, griffin,” the pink stallion said pleasantly, “and I’ll test the sharpness of this beautifully made dagger on your throat.”

“Yaks no know what going on here, pony. You tell yaks.” The leader of the hulking long haired beasts shook its head and leaned curiously towards the Captain. Gretel simply smiled in response and walked up to the frozen figure of the griffin,

“Why don’t we ask our friend here? He seems to know, don’t you?”

“No!” the feathered creature gasped, “Please! I’m just a clerk!”

“Then you’re of no use to us…” Gretel waved a hoof dismissively, “Dispose of him. Oh, and Run Off?”

The pink stallion looked up from his captive with a menacing grin, “Yes Cap’n?”

“Take your time and enjoy yourself.”

The griffin squirmed frantically, “Wait! Oh, gods…look…please, I don’t know much, only that the Lord’s wife has gone missing and then these pirates showed up. The next thing I knew is we were told to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but to keep your ship here.” The frightened creature hung limp in Run Off’s forelegs, “Please…that’s all I know.”

Run Off looked up, “Cap’n?”

Gretel turned to the yak leader, “Do you know anything about this?”

The huge creature shook his head, “No. Yaks know nothing about this, pony. Yaks not like it, yaks not like lies!” The creature’s heavily armoured body looked like it was virtually vibrating with aggression and he glowered down at the terrified griffin.

“Well, I don’t know about you,” Gretel said, “but we’re getting the hell out of here.”

The yak leader gestured to one of his colleagues, “Yaks…”

“You there! Halt!” Two griffins suddenly appeared from the corridor carrying crossbows.

The first of them rapidly back peddled as one of the mountainous yaks bore down on it, deftly smashing the hapless creature into the wall. The second loosed off a shot that glanced off the heavy helmet of the yak leader. In a surprisingly fast move, the long haired warrior unsheathed a sword virtually as long as his entire body, swinging it at the guard in a low, slow arc that took the creature off its feet. Whether it was deliberate or an oversight, the flat of the blade propelled the feathered creature bodily across the room to smash unceremoniously into a stand of spears that clattered noisily onto the tiled floor. Gretel nodded to their griffin prisoner,

“You’re coming with us. Any funny moves and I’ll unleash our yak friends on you, understand?” The griffin nodded, the gag in its mouth preventing any sound. Gretel patted it on the head, “Good boy. Now, I’m going to remove the gag and you’re going to walk out of here with us nice and easy.”

Strata leading the way beside the griffin, the group headed down one corridor after another until they were finally out in the open air. Thankfully, there were precious few guards around and those that were didn’t pay much attention to them. Gretel closed her eyes, the image of screaming shouting guards barrelling at them in a lethal tidlewave of sharp beaks and top of the range weaponry simply…didn’t happen.

“Captain?” Cyclone peered over the top of the gangplank, “Everything alright?”

Gretel held up a hoof, turning to the yaks,

“Your excellency, I thank you for your assistance, and hope we can look forward to trade in future.”

The strange creature huffed out a loud breath, his thick hair parting to reveal two almond coloured eyes,

“Yaks like you, pony Captain. We trade with you.”

Gretel clopped her hooves together, “Excellent! Now, I’m afraid we’ll have to adjourn our business transaction for today,” she smiled at the griffin, “I’m afraid I have some ‘friends’ to speak to about their trading partners…habits.”

The griffins eyes went wide, “No! Don’t! Captain, please, this isn’t…” he looked up suddenly, “Oh…gods…”

Gretel followed his gaze. There, high above them and descending from out of the thick cloud, was a long black hulled vessel, considerably larger than the Revenge, and heading right for her. She cursed under breath,

“Aeon…”

The Captain rushed up the gangplank, quickly followed by the rest of her party with the exception of the yaks who had galloped off towards their airship. So, this was the way it was going to be, was it? Gretel gritted her teeth and stared out at that cursed ship, the one that had been the bane of her father’s life and now it seemed, hers too.

“BOSUN!” she yelled.

“Aye, Cap’n?”

“BEAT TO QUARTERS!”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

The beat of the drummers call rolled out across the deck, spurring the ponies into a flurry of activity as the sails were unfurled and the lines cast off. The Revenge’s timbers creaked and shivered as she rocked free of her moorings; she wasn’t going to be a sitting duck for anypony, and certainly not some evil scumbag like Aeon.

“Mister Stock!” Gretel shouted down, “Why aren’t we moving?”

Stock looked up at the sails and shook his head. This wasn’t good; the lack of wind here by the island’s dock was reducing them to a virtual snails pace, and the Wind Wraith would be on them any minute,

“We’ve got a problem, Captain.” He called up to her, “We’ve lost the wind. We’ll have to tack her round.”

Gretel slammed her hoof on the balustrade in frustration. Of all the times! She looked up at the Wind Wraith bearing down upon them. The old ship didn’t normally have the speed to be a threat to the Revenge, but she had a larger crew and in a pitched fight with the Revenge stranded they would be at a huge disadvantage. She shook her head and drew her sword. This looked it was going to...

The Revenge lurched suddenly, catching her off guard and she reached out to catch hold of the railing. The crew looked stunned, all of them, every pair of eyes turning to stare at the indigo unicorn stood on his hind legs in the middle of the deck, his horn glowing with a brilliant purple light. Whatever he was doing had filled the Revenge’s sails and she leapt forward like a carp from a stream. Gretel opened her mouth to scream in rage at the strange creature, but...from the ship she felt only…contentment…and excitement. She smiled,

“Well don’t just stand there, you lubbers, get your hides to the lines!”

As if driven by a will they’d all tapped into as one mind, the crew surged into action, the Revenge rapidly pulling away from the Wind Wraith. Gretel hurried to the stern and raised her telescope. After panning it around, she soon caught sight of the one pony she’d like nothing more than to see swinging from the end of rope…Captain Aeon. The silver coated stallion with the white mane and piercing blue eyes must have been a real mares stallion back in his prime. Now, he just looked like what he had become: a cruel and twisted old pony who’d sell his own foals off into slavery if it brought him a few bits. He was watching her ship intently, and no doubt could see her as well as she could see him. Gretel could imagine the old rat grinning at her maliciously.

“Captain Gretel!” A squawking voice said beside her, “I demand you cease hostilities immediately! Lord…”

Gretel roughly snatched the griffin’s collar and pulled him towards her so she was inches from his beak, “You are the one who started this! You sold us out, you betrayed us! This…” she waved a hoof at the Wind Wraith, “This is all your doing!”

“No!” The griffin shook its head urgently, “We didn’t have a choice, the Lord’s daughter is…”

“I don’t give a damn!” Gretel spat angrily, “You’ve endangered my crew and you’ve endangered my ship. Now use those bloody wings of yours and get the hell off my deck!”

The griffin backed away, peering over the side of the ship and then back up at the Wind Wraith. He closed his eyes,

“One hundred…”

“What?” Gretel snapped angrily, “I don’t have time for…”

“TWO HUNDRED!” The griffin screamed, “Two hundred barrels if you get my daughter back!”

“Your what? Oh goddesses…” Gretel gritted her teeth and leaned over the balustrade to the Master at Arms, “Mister Cleat, prepare for close combat. Mister Haggis, bring us about. Master Stock, Bosun Cyclone, ready the crew for battle.”

Haggis whooped with excitement as he span the ships wheel, taking them hard to port. With the wind in her sails, the Revenge all but sang her joy of life out to the world around her. This was her element, this was where she belonged! To her crew, she was a lady of grace and beauty, one whom they would defend to the last ounce of their strength, and they responded to her burst of energy in kind. The bond between them all was something that few could truly understand, but the Captain knew....she had been born to know. Gretel shook her mane out and hefted her crossbow. If only Chalky had been here, if that useless, helpless, wonderful stallion had been by her side…

“Time for some booty lads!” Gretel cried out, her voice clear and strong, “Give ‘em hell!” The crew bellowed back a cheer that made the griffin cower down in fright. Gretel glanced back at him over her shoulder, “Best get yourself below or fly home, my friend. We don’t want to lose our trading partner so soon after we’ve made our agreement now, do we?”

Chapter Twenty Six - A Lonely Decision

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

A LONELY DECISION

Lord Ochre sat in the throne room, his head in his hooves. What had he done? What had gone wrong? One minute it was all there: the throne, the country, everything! And the next thing he knew, he’d been betrayed by everypony around him. That…that damned peasant…what was his name again? Dray? He sneered. It was a fitting name for a glorified farm labourer, a simpleton who couldn’t follow even the most basic of plans. Ochre began tapping his hind leg irritably. Why had he trusted him? Why?! Just because the old fool had ‘some’ military experience didn’t mean he somehow knew how to command an entire army! He banged his head back against the headrest of the throne. Of course, everypony knew who was really to blame here, didn’t they? It was that bloody stupid bitch Celestia and her magical trickery. In reality she was nothing more than a cheap conjuror, a sideshow charlatan fleecing bits from the gullible and weak of mind. He knew what she was like though, oh yes! He’d seen through her pitiable attempts at court machinations long ago, and it would take a hell lot more than that get past him! Ochre nodded to himself…yes, it would take a lot more to outfox the master of the hunt.

The Lord tossed his mane, snatching up a goblet of wine. His was a hard world, a hard life, more so than anypony but those who were born into the same social circles could even possibly attempt to comprehend. One had to make decisions, difficult decisions, but all of them necessary, regardless of how ‘primitive’ the methods employed sometimes had to be. He slammed the empty goblet back on the tray, waving for the servant. Servant… He looked over his shoulder. Where was the bloody fool? Pah! No matter, she could be replaced. They could all be replaced.

There was a loud knocking on the doors to the throne room and a white coated, silver armoured pony entered and bowed,

“My Lord, the envoy is here to speak to you.”

“Ah! Excellent!” Ochre called out happily waving a hoof, “Send them in, please!”

The guard bowed and disappeared back into the corridor. Moments later, the doors were opened wide and the dark shape of a pony like creature entered. Ochre’s eyes went wide in both anticipation and fascination. What truly remarkable creatures! His gaze took it all in, from the deep purple mane, the oil black coat to the shining black hooves. The creature looked thin too, almost skeletal in fact, with its bones showing up as if it were emaciated, although there was still a surprising look of…’power’ about the beast that more than made up for it. Complementing the overall appearance, the thestral walking towards him rustled its large dragon like wings, its eyes burning like two small yellow bonfires and displaying an array of sharp teeth that curled up out of the back of its mouth and over its top lip. Interestingly, the thestral was wearing a long white robe embroided with the symbol of their master - a large crescent moon, white upon a background of black clouds.

Ochre could feel his ears twitching as the ‘thing’ drew nearer. Dear goddesses, this didn’t look like a pony at all! It was more like…like a demon from the depths of hell! He swallowed, trying not to let his nervousness show, but he kept his eyes locked onto the strange creature nonetheless. It halted at the bottom of the steps a respectful distance away, and bowed. Ochre’s eyes stared at the thin whisps of smoke trickling from the creature’s nostrils. Were they part dragon? He’d heard they could breath fire in battle and…those ears! Those weren’t ears, they were horns! Long, thin pointed things…

Swallowing, Ochre began to fidget nervously. Suddenly this wasn’t starting to look like such a good idea after all, but what choice did he have? No…no, he had made his decision and it was the right decision. Yes, a good decision.

“Lord Ochre of Equestria, I bring greetings from her most divine majesty, the goddess of the night and true ruler of Equestria, her royal highness Nightmare Moon.”

Ochre’s heart was hammering fit to burst. Good goddesses, that voice! The thing was speaking to him certainly, but the words seemed to somehow bypass his ears and materialise directly in his head. He took a breath, forcing a smile on his face,

“And I return those greetings to her divine majesty and bid you welcome to my court.”

The thestral bowed again, “Her most divine majesty has instructed me to provide you with a list of terms which she requests you read. Once you have done so, I shall return to her divinity with your reply.”

“What…now?” Ochre stammered, “I need time to read them!”

The thestral removed a scroll from its pannier and tossed it to Ochre who caught it in his magic. He broke the seal and unfurled it. It was, rather unsurprisingly, in exceptionally neat if rather archaic hoofwriting. He knew then, that this had been written by Nightmare Moon herself, the once much beloved princess of the night. Lord Ochre cleared his throat and began to read. His eye twitched involuntarily as he took in and absorbed each word, every sentence, the gravity and finality of it all finally dawning on him. He finally reached the end and lowered the scroll. Dear goddesses, that was it then…it was over…it was all finally over.

The stallion reached his hoof out for his wine, remembering too late that he had ‘removed’ most of the staff for insubordination or incompetence. Good help, so hard to find in this useless place, had proven to be such a rare commodity he’d been reduced to fending for himself. Now, to add insult to such a flagrant injury against a pony of his standing, he’d been left with the unimaginable task of responding to the ‘terms’ of this upstart, the younger sister of Celestia, this…Nightmare Moon.

Ochre took a deep breath, “My guards will show you to your room,” he closed his eyes, “you will have my answer in the morning.”

The thestral didn’t move, it just stood there and stared at him, the wisps of smoke seeping out from between its teeth as it spoke,

“Her divine majesty requires an answer tonight.”

“TONIGHT?!” Ochre choked, “I can’t make a decision tonight without consulting with anypony first! Are you mad?”

The thestral watched him impassively, “You are the Lord of Equestria, regent in place of Celestia, are you not? Have I misunderstood this?”

“No! No, you haven’t.” Ochre sputtered, holding up a hoof, “Your…’terms’ are quite ‘involved’ and I need time to properly read them before I can provide you with an informed response.”

The thestral nodded slowly, “Her divine majesty explained that you may wish to have time to consider this, however you will need to decide quickly.”

Ochre’s brow drew down, “Why?”

The black coated creature bowed slightly, “Her divinity shall be arriving within the hour.”

“Wh…What?! She’s coming here? Nightmare Moon?” Sweat broke out on Ochre’s forehead.

“Indeed,” the thestral replied calmly, “truly a great honour.”

Ochre’s stomach cramped up painfully; he felt like he was going to be sick at any moment. The self proclaimed ‘goddess’, this Nightmare Moon, was coming here? Tonight? When he thought about it, it didn’t seem that surprising really, she was after all little more than Princess Luna in another guise…wasn’t she? But…what about all those strange and brutal looking creatures she surrounded herself with? And these ‘terms’! These weren’t terms, they were demands! All of them…

The Regent leaned back in his chair and fanned his face, the bile rising in his throat a sure sign of another of his anxiety attacks coming one. He waved a hoof at the thestral messenger,

“See yourself out. I shall have my answer for her divine majesty ready for when she arrives.”

The thestral bowed, “As you say, Lord Ochre”

With a heavy thud, the doors closed, leaving Ochre alone in the large empty throne room, alone except for his thoughts, and those he could certainly do without right now. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure what to do, nor, he realised with a sudden cold wash of realisation, did he have anypony he could trust to discuss these matters with. Not that it really mattered of course, he’d already made up his mind some time ago, but to see it there in black and white, so…formal, everything suddenly seemed to carry so much more weight than it once had. No, he couldn’t start second guessing himself now, he had to get a grip of the situation and ensure that this ‘Nightmare Moon’ creature was made to see just who the real power was in Equestria. Yes…yes, it would work out…very nicely. He grinned to himself, staring at the door…yes, very nicely indeed.

*************************************

The Colonel stifled a yawn. He hated these sorts of occasions with a passion; they were just so…boring. He was a stallion of action, of drive, not sitting about in formal settings listening to blasted politicians droning on and on about absolute bloody drivel. He stretched his neck surreptitiously, hoping that her divinity wouldn’t catch him doing it and berate him later. She was very ‘straight laced’ about certain things and formal settings was one of them, or so it appeared. This ‘Lord Ochre’ though struck him as nothing more than a buffoon of the highest order, but with a nasty streak which would probably go some way to explaining the distinct lack of any other diplomat or official here. That in itself had his hackles up.

Nightmare Moon and the Lord had been talking for some time. No, make that ‘a very long time’. Fulminata could feel another yawn coming on and closed his eyes trying to suppress it. By the goddess, why wouldn’t this end? If there was a hell, then he could picture it being like this…one endless meeting, with incessant points and counter points. But worst of all, just when you thought it was about to finish, when every single person in the room thought it was over too, some imbecile would suddenly realise they had yet another point to raise after all, one so important it had to be discussed right then and there. He sighed, a small curl of smoke rising up from his muzzle and dissipating into the cool air of the vastness of the throne room. Fulminata’s mind was wandering in all directions, desperate to distract himself from nodding off while the goddess and that stuck up twit droned away incessantly. Come to think of it, why did a throne room need to be so big? The halls back in the Beyond were a fraction of the size and they sufficed. But not so in Equestria apparently, where bigger and better meant you were somebody, or some’pony’, he supposed. Bloody aristocrats, and bloody ponies too…useless, bloody…

“Colonel?”

Oh goddess! His mind had wandered away so much he’d not been paying any attention to the fact the interminable negotiations had finally come to an end!

“Your divinity” He bowed politely, silently cursing himself.

Nightmare Moon stared at him with her depthless eyes,

“Would you like to add anything at this point?”

“No, your divinity, I believe all relevant points have been most thoroughly covered.” Fulminata winced slightly at the tone of sarcasm that had inadvertently slipped in.

The goddess’s lip curled up almost imperceptibly,

“Quite…”

She turned back to Lord Ochre,

“Very well, Lord Ochre. I am pleased that we have been able to reach an understanding.” She raised an eyebrow, “You shall be appointed Chancellor and be directly answerable to me. As we discussed, Colonel Fulminata shall take charge of the disarming of the Celestian armed forces and couriers will be despatched to all the villages, towns and cities of Equestria informing them of the good news.”

Lord Ochre bowed, “Good news, indeed your divine majesty.”

“Yes…” The midnight coated mare turned to her servant, the white cloaked thestral who had delivered the ‘terms’ earlier. The creature trotted forward, laying down a document and quill. It bowed and then backed away. “You will find everything in order,” The goddess said in her heavy formal tone, “all you need do, is sign.”

Ochre lifted the quill in his magic, dipping the tip into the inkwell and paused. The gravity of what he was about to do suddenly reared its head. Did he really want to do this? To sign everything away, to change thousands of years of Equestrian history with the stroke of a quill? He hung his head a moment. What choice did he really have? Nightmare Moon, the Legion…they’d simply walked right in. His removal of the army hierarchy, rather than helping shift their loyalty to him as it should have, had been like pulling the plug from a bath tub; all the troops had simply…drained away…

“Is something the matter?” The goddess narrowed her eyes, lifting her hoof slightly.

Ochre shook his head, “No…” he quickly signed the paper before his conscience sentenced him to a swift beheading, “No, everything is fine you divine majesty.”

Lord Ochre stood, holding the scroll before him and cleared his throat,

“I hearby declare as newly appointed Chancellor of Equestria, that with immediate effect, all Celestian armed forces are to disband and surrender their weapons to the nearest Legion post. Any and all resistance is to cease immediately and all citizens are to co-operate with Legion instructions fully, and in line with the directions of her most divine majesty, goddess of the night, her royal higness, Nightmare Moon.”

And that was that. With such a simple act, that single fluid motion of a quill, Ochre surrendered the country of his birth, his home…their home…to the forces of the night. Nightmare Moon. He blinked away a stray tear as he stared at the document…dear Celestia, what had he done?

Nightmare Moon lifted the document away in her magic and floated it over to the white cloaked thestral. With a deep sigh she closed her eyes and spread her wings, the ponies, minotaurs and thestrals around her bowing before their goddess. The midnight coated alicorn lifted her voice and laughed, a light lilting sound that grew in intensity until it became as thunder crashing down around them. Through the window, lightning flashed as if in answer to its mistress’ call. The floor shook, the walls and columns shuddered, the entire castle trembling with the triumphant goddess’ voice rolling out as she ascended the stairs to the twin thrones,

“And so…” she said in her deep timbre, “the night has come at last, my children. One and all, every pony, every thestral, minotaur and griffin…all the creatures of Equestria, shall come to know and understand the power and majesty of their true princess, their goddess. From this day forth, the reign of Nightmare Moon shall bring forth a new era, an era of truth, order and justice for one and all. For who can truly worship the day and ignore the night? From now on, all ponies shall truly know my beloved night and experience its eternal beauty and magnificent form as much as they have the day. From now on, until the end of time, the magnificence of the Equestrian night shall last….FOREVER!”

*****************************

Bracken pushed his way through the throng of ponies standing outside the tavern. Something was going on, but it was of little interest to him, he was supposed to be at the clinic to see Chalky and he’d bloody well overslept hadn’t he? Goddesses, that bloody bar mare was supposed to have woken him up hours ago! And where was she? Probably out here with the rest of them milling around the latest news bulletin from the capital. Big deal! Bracken had a sudden thought: what if the Doctor had been caught up in all this palaver too? He picked up his pace and dodged his way past yet more excited ponies until he reached the bright green wooden door of the clinic.

The Doctor was in,

“Ah, Mister Bracken, please…come in.”

Bracken scrubbed his hooves on the coconut matting which had been rather neatly interwoven with the word, ‘Welcome’ in large letters. The Doctor certainly had a way of making you feel comfortable alright. The slim stallion lead Bracken through to another part of the clinic he hadn’t seen before, and the first thing that hit him as he walked in was an almost blindingly white light. No… not light, just incredibly bright white walls, white curtains, even white sheets…goddesses above! He needed sunglasses just to be able to see to put one hoof in front of the other in here! Come to think of it, how was he going to find a white unicorn? Fortunately, the good Doctor came to the rescue, leading him with unerring accuracy to the smiling form of an all too familiar equine, currently stuffing himself with what looked like tea, jam smothered toast and reading a book, ‘The Crystal Empire – Myth and Reality, by Lint Beige.’

“Bloody good read, Brack” Chalk exclaimed around a mouthful of half chewed toast, “Doc say’s I can borrow it too.” He scrunched up his face, swallowing a mouthful of his breakfast, “You okay, dude?”

Bracken lunged forward, grabbing the white unicorn in a powerful embrace. Tears stung his eyes as he held his friend, the one who he thought he would be burying not so many hours ago. Chalk laughed,

“Hey! Gerroff will ya? You’re suffocating me here!”

“You…you bloody, stupid, arse!” Bracken choked, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear?”

“Pfff! You want to hear yourself! I was stuck in that boat with you droning on for bloody hours about that flaming Pickles and,” Chalk rolled his eyes, “how ‘soft her fur was’. Talk about about being tortured! Good grief! I wish my ears had been bloody well paralyzed too.”

Doctor Alright shook his head, “I’ve spoken to both of you now about the matter of burnout. Just remember Mister Dust what we said, and practice those exercises I taught you too, yes?”

“You got it, Doc.” Chalk smiled around another bite of his toast, “I’ll be on my best behaviour”.

“Huh!” Bracken snorted, shoving his friend with his hoof, “I’ve heard that before.”

“It’s no joke, gentlecolts”, the Doctor said, passing Chalk his cloak, “The next time, could be your last. Most unicorns recover, Chalky, but you seem to have the ability to go from a state of magical neutrality to hyper exertion almost instantaneously. Useful, I’ll grant you, but if you keep doing it…”

“-Yeah, I got it, don’t worry.” Chalk finished the last of his breakfast and jumped down from the bed as if the last couple of days had simply never happened. “What do we owe you, Doc?”

The Doctor shook his head, “Nothing. I’m always happy to help ex-service ponies. Used to be one myself back in my youth.” He gave a mirthless laugh, “I’m damned glad that was before all this Legion business though.”

“Speaking of which,” Bracken said scratching his head, “something’s going on in town. The billboard has…”

The door banged open, followed by a rush of hoofsteps. A flustered mare charged into the room, gasping for air,

“Doctor Alright!”

“What? What is it? Is somepony hurt?” The Doctor exclaimed in alarm.

“No! No, it’s…” the mare took a deep breath, her eyes wide with excitement, “The war…it’s over! It’s finally over!”

Chalk and Bracken looked at each other in shock, and as one, charged for the door pausing only to shout back their thanks to the Doctor. As they ran, neither of them spoke, desperate only to reach the town notice board to see for themselves. The ponies gathered there earlier had mostly dispersed or were stood about in shock. Bracken reached the notice first, reading it aloud in gasps as he tried to catch his breath. He got to the end of proclamation and shook his head in disbelief. No, that couldn’t be right…he’d have to read it again. But no matter how many times he stared at it, he kept seeing the same name at the bottom,

Her Royal Highness, Nightmare Moon.

Beside him, Chalk stared at the notice in silence, his wide eyed stare echoing the blank expressions of the ponies around them. Nopony seemed to know what to do, or say. Nightmare Moon, had…won? Bracken shook his head, he knew they hadn’t been doing well, the disaster at River Valley had shown all too well the horrendous deficiencies in the Celestian army against a determined, experienced and organised foe, so it wasn’t really that much of a surprise in some ways but…dear goddesses…that meant that Celestia really had…

He didn’t want to think of it.

Around the two ponies, mares and stallions alike sat around in shock, some crying, others mumbling to themselves incoherently. The whole town had sunk into a morass of fear and uncertainty that felt like a powderkeg in a lightning storm. Bracken gave himself a shake and grabbed Chalk,

“Come on, let’s grab our gear and get out of here. I want to get home as quick as I can.”

Chalk kept staring at the notice, his voice distant,

“…aye…”

Bracken half pulled, half kicked the befuddled Chalk into the tavern where he left him while he grabbed their gear as quickly as possible from his room. Leaving the money on the bar top with a surprised looking bar mare, he pulled Chalk out into the street and around the corner of the tavern before strapping on his equipment and packs. Chalk was still in a daze, his eyes only now refocusing on his friend,

“Brack? I…it isn’t true, is it?”

“It doesn’t bloody matter!” Bracken snapped, shoving Chalk’s gear at him, “Can’t you feel it in the air? This place is going to go up any minute! Put your stuff on and let’s get the hell out of here!”

Chalk gave himself a shake and looked over his shoulder at the milling ponies. Bracken was right, there was a charge in the air, a feeling of latent aggression and fear than was likely to go up like a flower mill at any moment. He came back to his senses just in time, slipping on the last pannier and followed Bracken down a side alley as the screaming and sound of breaking glass began.

The two friends headed for the country road. It was a good day’s travel to Wellford Springs but after a good nights sleep and being well rested, they should make good time at a steady canter. Chalk seemed to have perked up considerably too, especially considering his ordeal on the island. Surprisingly, he hadn’t even mentioned it once. Bracken mentally shrugged to himself; Chalk would talk to him about it if and when he was ready. For his own part in that terrifying ordeal, he’d rather forget all about it.

Around them, the gently rolling hills and lush fields intermingled with apple and pear trees, now all but bare of their leaves with the coming winter. It was a wonderful reminder that the two friends were nearing home. A few hours of travel later and they finally had to take a break, Chalk all but collapsing by the small stream, his coat steaming in the cool air. Bracken too, sank to his knees and undid his packs, taking the opportunity to drink from the stream and refill their canteens. Not that they really needed to; home was only a few miles away now, but there was no sense in getting there so exhausted they ended up collapsing in the street.

“Brack?” Chalk asked, wiping water from his muzzle.

“Hmm?”

“You think it could be a plot by the Legion to, you know, unsettle ponies?” Chalk’s ears flopped down as he shook his head, “It doesn’t seem real somehow, any of it. I mean, what we went through, all that...that suffering, the killing, what the hell was it all for?”

Bracken shrugged, flopping down onto the cool grass and let his muscles relax, “I wish I knew, Chalky, but I don’t have any answers for you. When all’s said and done what can you and I do about any of it?”

Chalk said nothing.

Bracken snorted, “I’ll tell you…Sweet bugger all that’s what. Look,” he stared up at the sky and rolled onto his back, “you and I mean nothing to the powers that be; Celestia, Luna, whatever the hell Nightmare Moon is, so as far as I’m concerned, and as far as you should be too, its just business as usual. I don’t know about you Chalky, but I’m going home and I’m going to forget all about this great steaming pile of bollocks and get so rat-arsed down the local I won’t be able to remember my own name.”

“I guess…” Chalk muttered, “But, what about the girls? Pickles, Gretel, won’t they be worried about us?”

Bracken stretched his legs and whinnied, “Ah, who needs ‘em?” he chuckled, “there’s plenty more where they came from, and besides, there’s nothing stopping us setting off to find them again at some point in the future.”

“I…I suppose so.” Chalk looked away. He wasn’t convinced. Gretel….

A sudden snorting and thumping noise made him look round in surprise. Bracken was busy rolling on his back, flailing his hooves wildly in the air, much to Chalk’s amusement,

“Ha! You any idea how you look right now?”

The black stallion huffed, peering up at his friend,

“Like I’m enjoying myself you mean? Then, yes, yes I do.”

Chalk muttered something and then slunk off back to the stream for a wash.

“Not like you to be prudish,” Bracken chuckled, brushing the loose grass from his coat, “Nothing like a good roll when you’re tired. Get’s the blood flowing.”

“I know that!” Chalk snapped, “It’s just…you know…”

“No?”

Chalk sighed, “It’s undignified…”

Bracken stared at him open mouthed, “You know, Mister Dust, coming from any other pony I could believe that statement I just heard. But coming from you?” he shrugged, “I don’t believe it. Are you seriously trying to tell me you don’t roll?”

Chalk blushed, “Yeah, It’s just…I don’t like other ponies watching.” He looked away shyly, “I just don’t roll that way.”

Bracken burst out laughing,

“After what you got up to with that pirate piece, you can say that again!”

Chalk threw a bread roll at Bracken, laughing despite himself, “Oh, shut up!” he shook his head, “Hey Brack, you think the girls are, you know, thinking about us?”

“’Course.” Bracken replied, talking past a mouthful of roll, “Two sexy soldiers in their prime?” he swallowed, “How could they resist?” Brushing the crumbs from his muzzle, Bracken nodded to the slightly discoloured patches on Chalk’s coat, “How’re you doing anyway, any ill effects?”

Chalk shrugged, “Nah, not really. I itch all over sometimes, but the Doc said the bites weren’t deep enough to need stitching, so he covered me in this glue like stuff that really seemed to do the trick.”

Bracken nodded, “Aye, he knows his stuff alright.”

The white unicorn helped himself to a travel biscuit and munched on it thoughtfully,

“I’m worried about them, Brack. I don’t think we should have left them.”

“The Doctor?” Bracken asked curiously.

“The Doctor, the nurse, Gal and the dockworkers.” Chalk replied, “Things were really kicking off back there, and ponies will get hurt.”

“And so would we if we’d stayed.” Bracken reasoned, “Things will calm down soon, you’ll see.”

“I don’t know, dude,” Chalk said quietly. He turned to stare into the water bubbling past, “I hope to the goddesses you’re right, I really do. If anythings happened to…” he trailed off, “Ah, sod it!”

Bracken nudged him with his muzzle,

“Chalky? Go and have a roll, you’ll feel better. It’ll take your mind off things”

Chalk’s eyes went wide, “No!”

Bracken bobbed his head, “I promise I won’t watch, honest.”

“What…really?”

“Honestly…”

Chalk sighed in resignation, “Okay…but you better not!”

Bracken settled himself down to check their packs, chuckling quietly at the heavy thumping sounds and snorting behind him as Chalk rolled for all he was worth. He was itching to peek, just a quick sneaky look even, but he had promised after all. Still…

“Right!” Chalk announced, all but bouncing back to his friend, “I’m fully re-charged and ready to go.”

“Spot on,” Bracken replied. He strapped the last of his packs onto his back and gave his mane a final shake, “All set?”

“Sure,” Chalk said happily, cinching his strap in place. He paused and looked up at Bracken from under his brows, “You…you promise you didn’t look, right?”

“Of course!” Bracken said as he began to walk back to the road. He glanced over his shoulder, “You might want to work on that technique of yours though, the way you waggle your hooves makes you look like you’re having some sort of seizure.”

“Wha! You bloody…!”

Whooping with laughter, Bracken charged off, a furious and yet much happier unicorn hot on his hooves.

The first signs of home soon met them as they cleared the next rise.

Wellford was a relatively large village, big enough to have its own tavern and shops, but not quite substantial enough to be called a town…yet. The village had been growing all the time too, and being as it had a considerable number of craftsponies who’d set up shop there already, reputation alone was bringing in more and more traders and settlers looking for a new place to call home. Chalk quickly pointed out two new houses that had appeared in just the short time they’d been away. Home…Chalk sighed, it didn’t seem to have the same connection to him as it once had. He missed his mother, sure, but there were still those lingering memories, the ghosts of his past that he couldn’t quite seem to shake off. It was the same for Bracken too; he seemed pleased to be going home and yet he’d had a peculiar distance to him that Chalk had picked up on ever since that night in the forest after they’d escaped those thugs. Bracken was probably worried they’d finally catch up with him, whoever they were, but he was sure there was more to it than his friend was letting on. It was like…a shadow, hanging over him. The words of the ships doctor still worried him too, that somepony had been actually been tampering with Bracken’s memories. Whatever it meant, hopefully with the ceasing of hostilities, life in Equestria, and their own lives, would return to normal.

The centre of Wellford soon came into view, including, much to Brackens delight, his own house. With a neigh of excitement, he launched himself into a full gallop, nearly flattening Chalk who had to push hard just to keep up with him. On impulse, Bracken began to laugh, his exuberance, his sheer joy at finally being home was overwhelming. He couldn’t believe it! Dear goddesses, at last! He was here! He ran up to the front door and hammered on the brightly painted red woodwork. It was his mother’s favourite colour, the same colour he’d painted it only a few summers ago…

“Alright! Bloody hell fire, I’m coming!”

The muffled voice of a pony he recognised all too well resounded up the hallway beyond, the hoofsteps echoing off the tiled floor. With a clunk and the sound of bolts being drawn back, the door was pulled open.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

The maroon stallion with grey eyes and short black mane peered up at the visitor, fussing with a pair of glasses on his muzzle. Bracken shook his mane,

“Dad?”

The older stallion looked at him, his eyes narrowing,

“Who? I…” he paused, the light of recognition flaring suddenly in the depths of those deep grey eyes, “My…oh, Celestia…Bracken?” he reached out a tentative hoof, his leg shaking, “It isn’t…it can’t be…”

“Dad? I haven’t been gone that long!” Bracken chuckled, “Have you…”

Forelegs suddenly lunged for him, grabbing him around the neck and pulling him into a tight embrace. Bracken gasped at the sheer strength of his father; he’d forgotten just how powerful a stallion he was, but now…now he felt the wracking sobs, the tears of relief as the maroon stallion held him, emotion surging through both of them,

“I’m home…”

A voice called out from the back of the house,

“Nightjar? What are you doing keeping the front door open? You’re letting all the heat out…” the mare’s voice died away, leaving only her open mouthed stare.

With a clatter of fallen crockery, the apron wearing tangerine coated mare ran forward, all but throwing herself at Bracken who was now rapidly disappearing under the emotional onslaught of his parents. Chalk sat back, shaking his head and left them to their re-union. Whether Bracken heard him shout that he was leaving or not didn’t really matter, he’d call back round later to see how he was settling in; if the black stallion hadn’t been crushed to death by those first two of course.

Wending his way to his own home, Chalk stopped by the familiar wooden gate post. It was like he’d never left. The carving was still there as it always had been, the name he’d cut into it when he was a foal after he’d found his dad’s pocket knife. Mum had tanned his arse black and blue for that one, but the name…the name remained. He smiled, running his hoof over it…’Chalk Dust’. Sometimes he’d felt just like his namesake: insubstantial, fleeting, as though with little more than a single gust of wind he would simply disappear as if he’d never been. Putting his melancholy thoughts aside, he trotted up the worn path, past the tiny white flowers in the neat border and rang the small brass bell by the door.

Nothing.

He peered through the window, but of his mother there was no sign. The interior of the compact house looked the same though, and even had fresh flowers in the window in a vase. The nostalgic scene was so overpowering, Chalk sank to haunches and hung his head. He needed a drink…

Turning to leave, he nearly bumped into the white mare coming through the gate carrying a bag of shopping in the blue glow of her magic. Her scarlet eyes stared at him,

“You’re home then.”

Chalk nodded,

“Aye”

Lake passed him the shopping bag,

“Keep hold of that while I get the key, I can’t do everything at once, you know.”

Chalk smiled, “Of course, mother.”

Lake’s magic flickered, the keys dropping from the door as she fumbled them,

“Bloody, stupid things! Whats wrong with…with my…” She stopped, tossing her long light green mane, “Why didn’t you write?”

“Sorry, mum. Things didn’t go so well.”

Lake continued to stare at the door, “Do you know what it’s been like here? Every day, hearing about the terrible things that were happening and wondering if my son…if you…” She finally turned her tear filled face towards him, “Oh, dear Luna, I thought I’d never see my beautiful colt ever again.”

Chalk lifted up the keys and unlocked the door, “Come on mum,” he smiled, “let’s get the kettle on. I hope you’ve got some cakes, as I’ve got one hell of a story to tell you…”

Chapter Twenty Seven - Boarding Actions

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

BOARDING ACTIONS

Standing on the unfamiliar main deck of the Wind Wraith, Gretel ducked as the heavy shaft of a crossbow bolt whipped past her ear and embedded itself in the dark timbers with a resounding thump. Around her, the shouts and screams of ponies had become a single deafening roar of naked aggression. A stallion charged her, swinging his cutlass in a deadly arc, but the Captain of the Revenge was quicker, nimbler and a hell of a lot sneakier. She grinned as she twisted and managed to flick the other pony’s sword out of his grip and span, delivering a savage kick that cracked the male on the underside of his jaw sending him sprawling across the deck. Another quickly took his place. Dear goddess, there were so many of them!

Their initial engagement had been swift, and deadly, the heavy crossbows of the Revenge dealing lethal blows amongst the packed crew on the enemy vessel as she was raked from stem to stern. In retaliation, the Wind Wraith’s own crew had shot dozens if not hundreds of steel tipped bolts at the Revenge, inflicting dozens of vicious wounds. The crew of the Wind Wraith clearly hadn’t expected to be counter attacked, with most of them lining the railings readying grappling hooks. The sudden burst of speed from the Revenge had sent them scurrying back to try and bring their vessel about, but it was too late. Captain Gretel’s ship swept in, sending swathes of death across the older vessels decks before drawing up alongside to disgorge her vengeful crew upon those who would dare attack their beloved Revenge. The red mare bellowed and charged her enemy, swinging onto their deck and unleashing her fury upon them. These bilge rats had threatened her father, threatened her, and threatened her crew, one too many times. Now…now was her time! She would take this bloody ship and that reeking sack of pus, Aeon, would kneel before her!

More ponies surged up out of the Wind Wraith’s hatches, surrounding the embattled Captain, but Stock and the crew of the Revenge fought back, pushing Aeon’s crew back. Stock moved up to Gretel, panting hard,

“There’s a lot of ‘em Captain.”

“The more the merrier, Master Stock!” Gretel shouted, ducking another incoming swing. She thrust her own sword, feeling the impact as it found its mark, “Any sign of that bloody cutthroat Aeon?”

“Not yet.” Stock rumbled, bucking a smaller male in the chest, “He’ll be here somewhere though.”

Gretel’s ponies pushed on, forcing the crew of the Wind Wraith back more and more. Dear goddess, she thought suddenly, they were winning! She turned to her crew, their faces tired but alive with the fire of adrenalin and the enthusiasm of their Captain.

“Come on boys!” she yelled, “We’ve got ‘em now! Wahoo!”

The howls, neighs, whinnies and bellowing was too much for the beleaguered crew of the Wind Wraith. One by one, the disillusioned and defeated crew began to drop their weapons and sink to their knees in submission. It was infectious; moments later the fighting had all but stopped, leaving the stallions and mares of the King Sombra’s Revenge standing in shocked silence upon the deck of their nemesis, the Wind Wraith…Aeon’s ship…

Gretel looked up suddenly,

“Stock!”

“Aye, Captain!”

The red coated mare grinned menacingly, “Find that rat, Aeon! Bring him here, I want to see that piece of filth grovel at my hooves.”

“Oh, I don’t think there’ll be any grovelling at anypony’s hooves, ‘Captain’ Gretel.” A wheedling voice called out, “At least not by me.”

Gretel’s heart sank. She recognised that voice, that snide, knowing whine that only one pony she’d ever met seemed to have…

“Aeon.”

She trotted over to the side of the deck and stared over at the Revenge. She closed her eyes and let out a breath. How had that…?

“CYCLONE!” Gretel jumped in surprise as Stock suddenly charged up beside her and leaned over the railing, his voice booming out with a deadly edge she’d never heard from him before, “You BASTARD! If you touch a hair on her, I’ll cut your black heart out!”

Even Gretel quailed at her first officer, but Aeon was right…he’d out manoeuvred her. Now he was standing aboard her ship with a sword to the throat of her Bosun and a barrel of what she recognised all too well. Two of Aeon’s crew stood beside him, one with a length of cord and another with a lit lantern. The threat was all far too clear, and Aeon’s self assured smirk said more than his words ever could,

“Surrender your ship, Captain Gretel” he sneered, “or I’ll slit the throat of this pretty little birdy.”

Before she could reply, Gretel found herself ducking as her Ships Master, lost in a haze of desperate fury, backed up and with a single bound, leaped across the gap between the ships, landing heavily on the deck of the Revenge. His sword gleamed as brightly as his eyes as he advanced on his target.

Gretel’s heart was in her mouth, “Stock! No!”

“Stop right there!” Aeon screeched, “You take one more step and you’ll be seeing your pretty polly here in the afterlife!”

Stock froze. His eyes…dear goddess, Gretel had never seen such anger, such raw hatred. In a funny way, she felt a little jealous of the mint green mare. To have somepony love you so much, to want to protect you to the very end…it was agonisingly romantic. She shook her mane. This situation was far too volatile,

“Don’t be a cock, Aeon. You kill her and Stock will kill you too.” She pointed at the barrel, “Your crew there, are you willing to sacrifice them as well?”

“I don’t think you’ll risk harming your ship, Captain Gretel,” Aeon shouted back, “now do as I say or I’ll blow this mouldering hulk to the eternal herd!”

“Are you completely insane?” Gretel snarled, “You’re on board the same ship, you idiot!”

“Insane?” Aeon laughed, “Maybe, Gretel, but are you willing to take that risk?”

The yellow coated Master at Arms walked up beside her Captain, her voice low so only she could could hear,

“Cap’n…I’ve got some ponies at the bow, ready to go across. If they keep low, we can…”

“Wait!” Gretel held up a hoof as movement caught her eye on the deck opposite. Apparently Aeon had noticed it too.

There, trotting up the steps to the quarterdeck was a certain indigo stallion carrying a notepad, quill and floating a half eaten sandwich in the purple glow of his magic. He stopped and looked across at Gretel…and waved,

“I say, this really is all most exciting!” he called to her happily, “I hope I didn’t miss too much, but I was absolutely starving!”

“Who?! WHO IS THIS?” Aeon gasped staring at the sandwich eating newcomer, “He’s…blistering buggering hell! It’s a unicorn! Kill it, KILL IT!”

Gretel watched in horror as Aeon’s ponies dropped what they were carrying and drew their swords, charging Strata who was…making notes?!

In a flurry of movement, Stock was on them, taking one of them down effortlessly whilst the other disappeared over the side with a blood curdling scream. Aeon backed up, his sword shaking in his hooves as the unconscious Cyclone began to come to. Stock locked onto his target and snorted, his blade glinting red in sunlight,

“Time to die…Aeon…” he hissed.

“I warned you!” The silver coated stallion shrieked, “I’ll…”

Everypony watched in open mouthed amazement as the Wind Wraith’s Captain’s sword was suddenly enveloped in a brightly glowing purple light. To Aeon’s horror, the magical glow effortlessly began lifting his sword up and away from him, floating higher and higher into the air. His grip slipped helplessly as he desperately tried to grab the weapon, but it was now simply too far away. With a final thump, he landed back on all fours, staring in abject hatred at the smiling unicorn and the imminent death that was Stock.

Gretel saw the danger, even as Aeon lunged for the lantern, but it was too late. With a cry of crazed triumph, the Captain of the Wind Wraith opened the fallen lantern and lit the fuse of the explosive barrel. Stock, his attention diverted by Cyclone, tried to reach it only to be bucked hard in the muzzle by the wild eyed Aeon,

“Finally!” Aeon screeched, “FINALLY! I WIN! I…”

Gretel stared in horror as the fuse burned down, the struggling figure of Stock, the raving mad form of the Wind Wraith’s Captain, and the fallen Cyclone. It was over, she’d lost…

A blast of wind suddenly blew across the decks, the sheer power of it making the two vessels lurch and creak alarmingly. Along with many of her crew, Gretel was knocked off her hooves but managed to see just long enough to watch the ranting and howling figure of Aeon flung bodily across and over the quarterdeck of the Revenge, together with the hissing and spitting barrel. Time felt like it was standing still…

“EVERYPONY DOWN!”

A bright green flash lit the sky around both sky galleons, immediately followed by a sound like a deep thunderclap booming out around them causing the ships to shake and groan. Gretel’s ears rang from the deafening blast, but even from the deck of the Wind Wraith she could sense the fear and then wash of relief emanating from her ship. This one though, this alien vessel beneath her, didn’t have the same feel to it, it was like it was…dead, somehow. She blinked and picked herself up, looking over at her beloved Revenge. Cyclone was sat there on the quarterdeck where she had been dropped by Aeon, wrapped in the forelegs of a relieved Stock. The fellow looked stricken, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he rocked her back and forth. For a horrible moment Gretel felt a surge of panic…until she saw Cyclone looking back up at her with an expression of helpless exasperation. She smiled, the mint green pegasus had better get used to it!

The Master at Arms trotted up, “Captain Gretel, we’ve something below you might want to see.”

Sheathing her sword, Gretel followed the large yellow mare down into the bowels of the Wind Wraith. The first thing that hit her was the smell…it stank. Urine, vomit, excrement; dear goddess how could anypony live in such vile conditions? She had to stop a moment, her stomach was heaving.

The Master at Arms leaned a hoof on her shoulder, “Captain?”

Gretel raised her hoof, “Give me a minute, Cleat.” Her earlier elation draining away, she began to wish she didn’t have such a sensitive nose, “Good goddesses, can’t you smell that?”

Cleat looked back at her, “No sense of smell Captain.” She held her hoof up and tapped her nose with a toothy grin, “Took a blow right on the muzzle when I was younger. Haven’t smelled a damned thing since.”

“Well count yourself lucky!” Gretel snorted, “I don’t know how the crew aren’t puking their guts out or dying of sickness like bloody flies.”

Cleat pushed open a door at the bottom of the stairwell. The large locks on the ancient woodwork suggested the late Captain doubted the integrity of his crew. Either that or…

“Oh goddess…” Gretel closed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief.

Cleat trotted over to the griffin who was manacled to one of the numerous sets of chains that lined the walls and sitting in a pile of filth that had clearly been there from the previous prisoner. No, Gretel thought bitterly…slave. She fought back the urge to scream in impotent hatred at the world,

“Get her down from there for the goddess’s sake, Cleat.”

“Aye, Aye, Cap’n.”

The poor creature collapsed into the outstretched forelegs of the large Cleat who, with help of the Captain, half dragged, half carried the semi-conscious griffin out of the darkness and towards the light.

“Let’s get her up to the quarterdeck and give the poor bugger some air.” The Captain huffed, as they heaved the all but lifeless griffin up the steps, “Get Doc, Cleat, and for the goddess’s sake, hurry.”

“Doc! DOC!” Cleat shouted, “Where the hell are you?!” She bobbed her head respectfully, “I’ll go find him Captain.”

The griffin was barely breathing. Her eyes were closed tight shut, but much to the relief of the Captain, at least she was alive. Gretel had seen ponies like this before, two in particular, but at least they’d managed to escape that living hell. This creature of the other hoof…

“Anata!” A shout from the main deck caught Gretel’s attention and she down to see the feathered form of the griffin that had unwillingly ‘aided’ in their escape, shoving its way through the mass of ponies and up to the quarterdeck, “ANATA!”

The gasping, frantic griffin grabbed the fallen creature and held it in his…Gretel shook her head…damn it all! She’d have to stop thinking about these creatures as ‘things’. No, these weren’t mindless, faceless beasts…this was a father, a father whose daughter lay in his arms, barely alive. Her heart stirred as the griffin male looked up into her eyes with his strange avian orbs, fear and hope warring within their depths.

“Please…Captain! Can’t you do something?”

Gretel went to open her mouth, stopping short as a large black bag full of medical equipment thumped down onto the deck beside her,

“Damn it all, move will you!” Doc snapped, “Give me some bloody room,” he glared up at the male griffin, “that means you too! Are you deaf?”

Cleat, gently, which Gretel noted meant more of a ‘grapple’, moved the distraught father away while the frowning doctor went to work. At his direction, water was quickly brought over and the young griffin girl was washed down while Doc examined her. He shook his head in dismay, “Animals…” he muttered, taking out a small bottle of blue crystals. He lifted the girl’s head and passed the open bottle under her beak. Suddenly, the griffin female jerked, her eyes flying open in shock. Doc held her down, shaking his head,

“It’s alright, you’re safe now,” he said comfortingly, “you’re with friends.”

“NO!” She shrieked, “No! Father! FATHER!”

The male griffin broke free of Cleat and rushed to his daughters side, tears pouring from his eyes,

“Anata! Oh, thank the gods you’re safe…” he reached for her, but Doc held out a hoof,

“Gently! Good goddesses, griffin, look at the state she’s in”

“I…” The male paused, then nodded slowly, “I understand, thank you doctor.”

Gretel looked up at Doc, “How is she?”

“Not good,” Doc said quietly, “She needs proper medical treatment. They’ve…done things to her, Gretel, you know what they do to…”

“-I know, Doc,” Gretel replied bitterly, “Just…” she turned to the father, “Do you have a medical facility on the island?”

“Of course!” the griffin replied.

“Master Stock!” Gretel shouted, “If you would be so kind as to release my Bosun, would see to organising a crew for both ships and freeing them? We need to get the wounded down to the island, as quickly as possible.”

The large brown stallion looked up from the quarterdeck of the Revenge, but not before his gave Cyclone a quick kiss on the forehead,

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

Quickly, the two ships were organised with Stock being placed in temporary command of the Revenge while the crew of the Wind Wraith were unceremoniously shoved into the hold of their own ship at sword point until Gretel could decide what to do with them. Even the officers of the old ship had been stuffed into the reeking room, much to their chagrin. Gretel’s unsympathetic glare had quickly stopped any more complaining.

Dockside, the Wind Wraith, piloted by her own helmspony, the only one of her original crew allowed on deck, rocked as the mooring lines were made fast fore and aft. A large contingent of armed and exceptionally angry looking griffins awaited them, their crossbows and wickedly sharp looking spears gleaming in the sunlight. Gretel looked on, wondering how much that lot would sell for. If nothing else, it was a good sales pitch, she thought to herself sarcastically.

A loud thump announced the lowering of the gangplank and several of the griffins on the dock walked forward, stopping just short of bottom, but clearly in a state of angry agitation. A silver feathered stepped forward, calling up to the ship in his squawky voice,

“Ahoy, Wind Wraith.”

Gretel stood up and waved a hoof, turning back to the gold speckled griffin currently helping the doctor clean his daughter’s filth soaked body,

“I think they’ll want to speak to you.”

Nodding solemnly, the griffin stood and walked to the side, calling down to the others,

“Platinum, fetch a stretcher and the doctor immediately. I want our medical facilities made available to all these ponies as well. Oh, and Platinum?”

“Yes, Lord Rapere?”

“Have those ‘other’ ponies arrested. If they resist, you have my permission to eliminate them.”

Gretel smirked to herself. She’d like to see the look on Impulse’s face when the guards caught up with him. Personally, she’d much prefer to see him ‘eliminated’, but a sound flogging would do…for starters. Right now though, she had more immediate concerns,

“Chips!”

A Turquoise mare waved over to the Captain,

“Aye, Cap’n?”

“Come with me.” Gretel, turned to Doc, “Take all the injured to the island’s facilities if you think they need it, Doc.” She shook her head, “Even the Wind Wraiths crew…I suppose”.

Doc rolled his eyes, returning to take charge of his griffin patient.

Gretel nodded to the griffin, “Well, Lord Rapere, if that is your real name, I believe we will need to conclude our business.”

“Yes, Captain, indeed,” the griffin replied, watching his daughter loaded onto a stretched and carried down the gangplank, “For now though, please, accept our hospitality. I shall make all our repair facilities and stores open for your use. No fee, of course.”

“And our ‘other’ agreement?” The Captain asked pleasantly.

The griffin lord bowed his head, “I don’t renege on agreements, Captain. You shall have your two hundred barrels. For now, please, my home is your home. You and your crew have more than earned a rest. May I recommend our mineral baths, I find them particularly rejuvenating.”

Lord Rapere bowed and turned to leave.

Gretel lifted a hoof to stop him, “Lord Rapere? You did say ‘mineral baths’, right?”

“That’s right,” he replied, “there’s a source of mineral water nearby which we use for bathing and washing.”

“Really?” Gretel tapped her hoof against the chin in thought, “Would you be able to spare a little?”

Rapere’s brow drew down and he suddenly barked out a laugh,

“Ha! Of course, Captain! Use as much as you like!”

He bowed again and trotted off down the gangplank where her quickly took wing with his escort and flew off after his daughter.

Gretel trotted down the gangplank to the dock where Cyclone was organising repair work, “Bosun, how many deck scrubs do we have aboard?”

“Deck…scrubs? I…” the green mare scratched her head, “I don’t know, Captain. Enough for routine maintenance I would say.”

“Well, get the lot and see if there’s any aboard that flying craphouse too.” Gretel cocked her head towards the Wind Wraith, “You’ll find plenty of willing volunteers in her hold, and hot water from our griffin friends.” She waggled her eyebrows at the mint green mare, “Make the buckers clean her from stem to stern, Bosun. That’s going to be the cleanest ship in the Amethyst Fleet.”

“Amethyst Fleet, Captain?” Cyclone asked raising her eyebrows.

“Aye,” Gretel laughed, “I think I’ve been hanging around that weird unicorn too long, but hell, why not?” She grinned widely, “She’ll be needing a new Captain too…”

Gretel turned to the Turquoise coloured mare behind her, “Come on then Chips, lets see if we need to make any repairs to my darling’s hull. I have a horrible feeling she’s covered in Aeon’s of dirt.”

Cyclone stared after her Captain, the red mare’s laughter was infectious, and the crew responded to her in kind. She was a good Captain, and although she didn’t always agree with her, she was still her friend. If nothing else, she had one good reason in this world that she owed the Captain everything for…

“Bosun?” Stock trotted up to her, “We need to…Mmmph!”

Mint green legs threw themselves around his neck and dragged him into a deep kiss that took the surprised stallions breath away. Before he knew it, he was shoved away by the grinning mare,

“Yes?”

“I…” Stock’s ears twitched furiously, “uh…oh, bugger it…!”

Cyclone’s laughter joined that of the others. It was going to be a good day after all.

*************************

Night on the island was incredible. With being so high above the ground and with the thick cloud layer, the light of the setting sun was like fire dancing across the whitewashed buildings. The bath house was full tonight, the first time it had ever played host to so many, and a different species at that. Rapere had indeed been true to his word; the hold was full, the Wind Wraith secured, and the water…well, there was only one word she could think of,

“Divine…”

“Captain?” Cyclone asked looking up at her in concern.

“Oh…shush,” Gretel sighed, “just Gretel, Cyclone, please. I don’t want to think about…” she moaned softly as the bath water’s healing warmth soaked through her aching joints, “…anything...at…all.”

Gretel’s mind began to drift away on a soft and very fragrant cloud of delicious warm fluffiness. All her cares, all her worries…none of them meant anything. Soon, when all this business with the barrels was concluded, she’d find that silly unicorn, and then…she sighed, no…not tonight…

“…and then the Empire simply vanished, ‘POOF!’ Just like that!”

Oh goddess, she knew that voice…

“…about the ship’s heart?”

And that one!

Gretel opened an eye, peering up at the aghast Cyclone as an indigo unicorn climbed into the bath with them as if he didn’t have a care in the world,

“Evening ladies!” he chirped.

“Captain, Bosun…” Doc slipped in beside his newly acquired friend.

“Well, according to ‘A Treatise on Aerial Magics’,” Strata explained, “the ship itself is part and parcel of…”

“-EXCUSE ME!”

Doc and Strata looked up in surprise at the livid figure of the Bosun who had gone a luminous shade of red. Doc raised an eyebrow,

“You may want to get out, Bosun, you’re looking a little flushed.”

“WHAT?!” Cyclone nearly exploded, “What are you doing in here?! There’s mare’s bathing!”

“Perhaps you didn’t see the notice?” Doc said patiently, “It’s a communal bath.”

“Captain!” Cyclone stammered, “Please! Say something!”

Gretel closed her eyes and groaned, “Shut up, all of you or have you thrown in the brig.” She thought for a moment, correcting herself, “The Wind Wraiths brig.”

That shut them up. Gretel winked at Cyclone who sank to her haunches, the water just touching her muzzle as she sulked. The Captain couldn’t help but chuckle to herself, but…wait a minute, she was forgetting something wasn’t she? What the hell was it? Suddenly the image of the unicorn on her deck flashed into her mind, the unicorn…using magic!

Gretel shot to her hooves in a plume of water, “YOU! You bloody menace!” advancing like some demon from the deep upon the startled unicorn, the Captain’s eyes flashed angrily, “I told you about using magic on my ship! You could have killed us all!”

Doc held up a hoof,

“Actually Gretel, he sa…”

“-And you can shut up as well!” Gretel snarled, “You and him are as bad as each other!”

“Now come on!” Doc sputtered, “I hardly think that’s fair!”

“Oh belt up!” Gretel snapped, grabbing Strata’s shoulders and pushing him up against the edge of the bath, “And as for you…Mister Strata, I ought to have you flogged!” she took a breath, “However…since you technically saved our bacon out there, I am willing to overlook this ‘incident’, for now. Let me say one more thing though,” Her large eyes bored into his, “If you ever…EVER use magic aboard my ship again, I will personally turn you into a kebab. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal!” Strata squeaked.

“Good…”

Gretel shook her wet mane and stretched out once more. It was hopeless really, wasn’t it? No matter what she did, wherever she went, there was always something to do, or some sort of bloody problem. Strangely however, she didn’t seem to really mind. These ponies, and in a peculiar way, even the bizarre Strata, were all a part of her family. Well, maybe not Strata. Sooner or later he’d have to go home or she’d end up throttling him…in a nice way of course.

“What news on the crew?” Gretel asked.

“Recovering well,” Doc replied, “surprisingly no fatalities, but some serious injuries as you know. Our griffin friends have some very advanced healing potions and magic here, otherwise we probably would have lost a few of them.”

Gretel nodded to Cyclone, “The Wind Wraith?”

The Bosun wiped her muzzle and leaned back, avoiding the gaze of the two males, “Stock and an armed guard are making her old crew clean her round the clock. I’ve no idea how long it’s going to take, but the water coming out of the bilges stank like it had belched straight from the arse end of Hades.”

“Nicely put, Bosun” Gretel chuckled, “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get out and dry off.” She turned her gaze on the two stallions, “If I catch either of you looking…”

The two looked away quickly as Gretel, rapidly followed by Cyclone, left the bath.

Outside, the air was cool and fresh, the wind picking up her mane and sending a tingling feeling down her neck. It felt good against her fur, invigorating and so…alive somehow. Gretel had left her overcoat and hat with the others to bring to her cabin later, preferring to experience the night here to its fullest on her way back to her beloved ship.

“You know, we could have stayed in the guest rooms don’t you Gretel?” Cyclone observed.

Gretel shrugged, “I know, but home is home, and you can’t beat a kip in your own bed.” She gave Cyclone a wink, ”Especially with a warm stallion beside you, eh?”

The mint green mare blushed and then smiled,

“Aye, Cap’n.”

“Speaking of Stock,” Gretel said conversationally, “shall we pop up and see how he’s getting on?”

Cyclone balked suddenly, “Captain, I…”

“Hmm?”

“Do I have to?” The Bosun’s ears flopped, “That ship, its…”

“What about it? It’s a…” Gretel stopped suddenly. How could she have been so blind?! She cleared her throat, “Cyclone, was that the ship you were…?”

“I don’t know,” the green mare said distantly, “Its just that, when I look at it, I keep having flashbacks, pieces of memories flying around in my head.” She shook her help helplessly, “I don’t know for sure, Gretel, I was only a foal when they took me.”

‘Only a foal when they took her’…Gretel looked away, her anger rising as she remembered the state the two girls were in when they first came to her. They’d been brutalised, mutilated and…and…she took a deep breath,

“Cyclone, forget it. We’ll go back to the Revenge and you can see Stock in the morning.” She began walking away and suddenly realised she was alone. “Bosun?”

The green pegasus stood several paces behind, staring avidly at the ships in the dock, “Gretel…I…I can’t keep running from my past.” she shook her mane, “I lived in the shadow of my sister, her memory, for years - years I could have spent with Stock, and I’ll be buggered if I let bloody minded stupidity and pig headedness stop me again!”

Gretel turned to face her, “Cyclone, look, you don’t…”

“-I DO!” Cyclone suddenly broke into a full gallop, arrowing straight for the Wind Wraith.

That bloody mare! Gretel whinnied and set off after her friend. She was all too aware how sky galleons could affect a pony, but one with a history, and a bad one at that, could do untold damage to an already injured mind. She sped up, her yellow mane and tail flying out behind her. In truth, she didn’t know what would happen, if anything. The Wind Wraith felt dead to her, like a common wooden vessel - just an assemblage of wood, iron, rope, and sail cloth. Sky galleons by their nature were different altogether. Sure, they may look like regular ships, even handle like them when they were in the water, but they were…

“Oh goddess! Cyclone!”

Gretel was too late. The mint green coated pegasus could run like the wind and she’d already shot up the gangplank onto the Wind Wraith’s deck and was now lying in a crumpled heap, twitching and gasping.

“Cyclone? Come on, we’ll get you out of here…Stock! STOCK!” Gretel stared about her in a panic. Where the hell was everypony?!

“The…pain…” Cyclone whispered, tears welling in her eyes, “Captain…she’s in so much pain…”

The lumbering sound of heavy hooves on the deck announced the arrival of a worried looking Stock. He rushed over to speak but Gretel held up a hoof halting him as she spoke gently to Cyclone,

“Bosun, can you…feel her?”

Cyclone nodded quietly, “It…it just hit me so quickly…so fast. She’s been suffering for so long, Gretel…so, so long…”

Gretel didn’t like this. The Wind Wraith was a sky galleon like the Revenge, but older and with a far more disturbing history. The Revenge was like a mother to her, a comfort was she was lonely or frightened, but also a friend to speak to and a daughter to protect. Cyclone felt something here, where as she felt…nothing. Stock pressed in close to the red mare,

“Captain, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t like it.”

“I know, Stock,” The Captain nodded slowly, “but somehow, she can sense this ship, the way I do with the Revenge. I don’t think it’s a good idea to interrupt her right now.”

“Interrupt her?” he asked in surprise.

Gretel sighed, “Yes. Look, Stock, I only know what my father taught me about sky galleons, and that was passed down to him from his family line. There’s something going on here, and after what happened earlier today, I’m starting to wonder if what I know is…flawed. We need to speak to somepony who knows about these things, one who understands more about who made these vessels.”

Stock nodded, “Strata.”

“Aye, Strata.” Gretel stood up and stared up into the starless, cloudy sky, “I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

*******************************

It was cold…so bitterly cold, as if the sun had never existed, not even as a memory. Her world was darkness, the cries of suffering and pain, the weeping, emptiness and lifeless horror…so much despair! She was drowning, falling away into the nothingness, the deep silence of non-existence.

“You don’t have to cry any more…”

The fear was everywhere, she needed to run, to flee, just…get away. The darkness was supposed to be her friend, her escape, but even here, it found her…

“You don’t have to be alone, I am with you…”

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t meant to be like this! Those…those liars! They lied to her! She’d been free, alive with the wind and the flow of world’s breath against her hull, and she’d sang. Oh, how she’d sang! But then the greed began - the ceaseless cruelty, the screams of pain, the blood, so much blood!

“Share yourself with me, I will hold your heart safe and be with you…”

No!...no…cannot trust, never again, never to feel, never to experience anything ever again. To be alone was to be safe, to be protected from harm…

“Will you be my friend?”

Fear, wariness, distrust…

Maybe…

“Cyclone?” Gretel lay her hoof on her Bosun’s shoulder.

The pegasus was exhausted. So much for the re-invigorating bath, now the poor mare looked like she’d been to hell and back. Stock looked like he was going into conniptions with worry while beside them, the somewhat less than comforting figure of Strata sat making notes…Notes! Gretel gritted her teeth and gently stroked Cyclone’s mane as those big maroon eyes focussed on her,

“Captain. She’s hurting, like a frightened kitten. What these animals did to her, what they did to the prisoners, the slaves,” Cyclone brushed a tear away as Stock lifted her hoof, “she felt it all. Dear goddesses, she’s been tortured for years, countless years…”

Gretel smiled softly, “Bosun, come on now, let her be. You need to pull your mind away and think of other things. You can be with her in your own time, and hers.”

Cyclone nodded, shakily taking the hot cup of tea from Doc who had appeared with his now inseparable friend, Strata. The indigo stallion seemed lost in a world of his own as he muttered and mumbled incessantly to himself while scribbling away in his notebook. Gretel let out an exasperated breath; one day she was going to have a look in that bloody thing. Right now though, she needed to see what this fellow knew,

“Strata, what can you tell us about the connections between crew and ship?”

The unicorn flicked through his notepad,

“Well, it’s more of an overview really, the treatise on…”

“-Strata,” Gretel raised an eyebrow, “that will be fine. Please…continue.”

Strata blinked and finally put down his pad, “Oh! Um, yes, sorry. The, er, the sky galleons of the Amethyst Fleet, as it later became known, were created from only the most ancient forests in the land: the ones where the Breezies live.” He waved a hoof, “Inherently magical, you see.”

Gretel nodded, “Right…”

“Yes! But here’s where it gets interesting…oh! Thanks, Doc.” Speaking of magic, a biscuit had all but popped out of thin air in the eccentric pony’s hoof which he was now happily munching whilst trying to speak. “The creators of the sky galleons imbued their magic into the pony who was destined to be the Captain of the ship. Somehow, this created a bond between the Captain and the ship that became generational. I don’t know whether the creators ever envisaged their vessels would last this long though, as the ships were created only a short time before the Empire was banished.”

“Well that explains bugger all!” Gretel said irritably, “I know about the bond, my dad had it too. It doesn’t help with Cyclone’s problem.”

“It would,” Doc chipped in, “if Cyclone were a descendant of the original Captain.”

“And what’re the chances of that happening?” Gretel replied, “One in…oh, I don’t know, millions!”

“True,” Doc said reasonably, “But the Empire vanished a long time ago, and ponies produce ponies, produce ponies. You get the idea.”

The Captain shook her head in dismay, “It’s still a hell of a stretch of the imagination, Doc.”

“There is another possibility,” Strata added, waving his half eaten biscuit, “The records state that the creators were concerned about what should happen if a Captain unexpectedly died, or passed on without an heir. They said that a new Captain would be chosen ‘by the ship’.”

By the goddess, he even did the quotes with his hooves…Gretel leaned back and closed her eyes in thought, “That sounds the most likely then, but it doesn’t explain why the ship can actually ‘talk’ to her. To me, the Revenge is alive, she’s my family, but although I can sense her, as she can sense me, I can’t have conversations with her like you and I are having right now.” She nodded to Cyclone, “But it sounds like that’s exactly what’s happening here.”

The Bosun shook her head, accepting a cup of tea from the doctor, “It’s not conversation as you and I know it” she said quietly, “Its more, an ‘understanding’, a connection on some level I can’t really explain.”

“Don’t look at me!” Strata exclaimed, holding up his hooves at the Captains gaze, “I don’t have all the answers.” He scratched his chin, his voice dropping to a mutter, “…yet…”

Gretel gave herself a shake and got to her hooves, “Right then. I’m off to bed, and you too missy,” She bopped Cyclone on the nose playfully, “so leave her alone tonight Master Stock, alright?”

The dark brown stallion sniffed and feigned a hurt expression. Oddly, it didn’t seem to work that well on the big fellow…

“Oh, and there’s one more thing I want to know.” Gretel said, turning back towards Doc, “Who’s been stealing my bloody tea and biscuits?!”

Chapter Twenty Eight - Brother in Arms

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

BROTHERS IN ARMS

Chalk leaned his forelegs across the bar and rested his head on them, yawning loudly. Goddesses he was bored…of this village, this tavern, his whole bloody life. He closed his eyes and imagined himself sitting here as time simply trickled away around him like sand in an hour glass, grain by grain, bit by bit…

“Hoy! Lazybones, you asleep or what?”

Chalk opened a sleepy eye,

“Bugger off Brack, can’t you see I’m knackered here? Mum’s been working the bloody hide off me for days.”

Bracken knocked back the rest of his pint,

“You want to try my place; Mum and Dad are working my hooves to the bone. I tell you, dude, I did less work in the bloody army.”

“I hear ya.” Chalk flicked a fly away with his tail and took another pull on his drink, “Two more please, love.”

The bar mare rolled her eyes and trotted off to fetch their drinks. Every day had been like this - the same monotonous routine: wake up, work, drink, sleep…rinse and repeat. Bracken scratched his head in frustration,

“You know I thought this would be it. No more war, no more army, no more running for our lives from strange things constantly trying to kill us. And yet…” he opened another packet of corn scratchings, “I dunno, I just feel as if I’m missing something.”

“Yeah…” Chalk griped, helping himself to Bracken’s snack, “I just don’t feel like I belong here somehow. Not that I don’t love Mum and our friends of course, it’s just… it’s like I’m kind of detached from them all.” he shrugged, “Huh! For that matter I think I always was. Bunch of…” his next words were muffled by a mouthful of scratchings.

A loud conversation from across the lounge was growing in volume and the sound of furniture dragging caught their attention,

“I don’t give a flying buck what you think!” the old lime coloured stallion in the brown overcoat shouted, “You’re all stinking lousy cowards, the lot of you! If I was twenty years younger, I would have fought back, I would have fought for our princess!”

“Celestia’s dead you stupid old fool!” one of the others shouted back at him, “You know that as well as we do, so unless you know some way to magic her back to life, you’d better get used to having her sister calling the shots. It’ll keep your head on your shoulders a lot longer too.”

“You…!” the old stallion spat, “You make me SICK!”

There was a crash of a table and chair being upended. Bracken looked away quickly,

“And here we go…”

“Bollocks!” Chalky hissed under his breath, “The old soak’s coming over here…”

“And what about you two, eh? EH?” the stallion barked, banging his hoof on the bar beside the two friends, “You’re Lake’s boy aren’t you? Why aren’t you off fighting with the army then? Too hot for you was it? Miss your mummy?”

Chalk’s eyes narrowed, he could feel his hooves digging into the wood of the bar top as his anger began to rise.

Bracken clopped Chalk on the shoulder and shook his head in warning, “Don’t say anything” he whispered, “let’s just finish up and go.”

A second later a hoof slammed into Bracken’s own shoulder, “Got something to say have you?” The oldtimer bellowed in his ear, “Yes, you! The black stallion! Do you know what you look like? You look like one of those damned demon horses of the Legion! What are you? A bloody spy? Yes…YES! That’s it, you’re a spy for Nightmare Moon, the queen bitch hersel’…”

The lime coated stallion never finished his sentence. In a whirling, screaming flurry of hooves and rage, Bracken smashed the drunkard to the floor and pulled him into a head lock that, with just the right amount of pressure, would snap the old fellows neck like a twig.

“Brack! For Celestia’s sake, stop! Let him go!” Chalk yelled leaping off his chair.

Bracken’s eyes looked glazed, his breathing coming in deep, heavy huffs as his hooves began to twist. That old fool! He dared…he DARED!

Chalk’s face loomed in Bracken’s vision, his big green eyes staring into his. He was saying something. What was he saying? He couldn’t quite…

“BRACKEN! For bucks sake, let him go! You’re killing him!”

With a start, Bracken blinked, his eyes going wide as he came back to himself and realised the choking and coughing creature in his grip was mere moments from death…by his hooves. He released the stallion and got up shakily,

“I…I’m sorry everypony…I’m…”

With a neigh, Bracken suddenly bolted out of the tavern door into the street.

“You…you horses cock!” Chalk yelled at the wide eyed old stallion, “He was at River Valley you stinking, lousy old mule!” He turned on the others, “None of you, NONE OF YOU, have any right to question anypony who was there about their bravery…do you hear me? NONE OF YOU!” Slamming his beer mug down, the white unicorn charged out of the door after his friend.

Bracken wasn’t hard to find. When he was upset, there was only ever one place he’d go to, and after all this time it was amazing it was still there - Miss Windmill’s barn. Chalk slowed to a walk, approaching the rickety old building. In some ways it was a magical place, a timeless reminder of all the good, and bad things that happened in your life. Constantly in a state of semi collapse, it was always a surprise to find it was still standing at all. Of course, nature and time had taken its toll on the neglected barn; Miss Windmill had a new one now, and this one was simply…forgotten. Chalk shrugged to himself as he walked in through the half open door into the dark interior. Some day, he thought to himself, just like the barn even the war would be forgotten, changing from memory to legend, from legend to myth, as if it had been nothing more than a fairy story. In some respects, he reasoned, it was rather like the Crystal Empire.

Chalk shook his head, smiling at the familiar dark blue tail flicking from side to side as it stuck out from underneath a huge pile of straw. So, Miss Windmill did still use this barn after all eh? Apparently, appearances really could be deceptive. He sighed. Like some equine mole, Bracken had half covered himself in the straw, his head hidden under his forelegs. Chalk slid round and sat quietly beside his friend, letting him know he was there, but letting Bracken speak, if he wanted to. Minutes passed…

“It’ll never go away will it.” The voice from the straw said hopelessly, “The memories.”

“No…”Chalk replied softly. He stared up into the dark rafters, the occasion chink of sunlight sneaking through illuminating the darkness within, “I don’t think we’ll ever forget. I’m not sure I want to either.”

“Why?”

“For those who aren’t here now…” the white unicorn watched the dust motes swirling in the light and held his hoof up to them, “They can’t see, or feel, or speak in this world anymore. For them, if nopony else, I want to remember. If anypony asks me about the war, as little as I did for my part, I will tell them. The dead need a voice.”

Bracken’s head emerged from the straw covered depths, his eyes blinking,

“I…I keep seeing her, Chalky. It’s like a dream, but not a dream. She calls to me…”

Chalk smiled at his friend, “Look, why don’t we try and find the girls? Now the war’s over, we should be able to…”

“No!” Bracken cut in, “Not Pickles,” he shook his head in frustration, “I don’t know who she is, but she has these eyes....Dear Goddess, Chalky, they’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen and yet so terrifying I want to run and keep running until I run off the edge of the world.”

“It’s just a dream, Brack.” Chalk said softly, “Just a dream.”

Bracken shook his head solemnly, “I don’t know…” he muttered, “It all seems so real. Sometimes, I see Pickles in my memories, but then this face appears that I can’t see.”

“You can’t see?”

“No! I…Damn it Chalky, its like trying to describe smoke.” Bracken rolled over with a groan, “The second I try to focus on it, it disappears, leaving only the memory of those eyes.”

“What are they like?” Chalk asked.

“I…” Bracken screwed up his face, “I…I don’t…ow! Bloody hell fire, my head!”

Chalk suddenly tapped Bracken on the muzzle,

“Shhh! Somepony’s coming!”

The two of them lay in silence, keeping as still as possible. All they could hear was the faint breeze making the barn creak occasionally and what sounded like mice scurring about further back. Chalk closed his eyes, listening to Bracken’s breathing slowing and returning to normal, his friend distracted by the possibility of approaching danger,

“Come on, Brack,” Chalk said rising to hooves, “they’ve gone. Let’s go home.”

“Hmph, I wish I knew where that was.” Bracken muttered, shaking straw from his mane, “This doesn’t feel like it.”

Chalk clopped him reassuringly on the shoulder, “I know, dude, I know.”

The two friends walked slowly back through the fields, each lost in their own thoughts. In some respects, life in Wellford Springs hadn’t been what either of them had been expecting. The pace of life was so slow here, that to a pony who had been involved in so much in so short a time, it was like hitting a brick wall. And yet here, there was also peace, a tranquillity of pace that many ponies had simply slipped into unconsciously. But to Bracken and Chalk, after everything they had been through, it felt like time had stopped completely. They reached Chalk’s house first, the solemn white unicorn nodding to his friend,

“See you in the morning, Brack.”

Bracken gave a sad, distant smile that never reached his eyes,

“Aye, take care.”

Everything would be alright in the morning.

********************

Bracken sat at the breakfast table, his family tucking into their usual repast of toast, tea and boring conversation. Nopony was really listening, it was just…something you did. A unexpectedly furious hammering on the front door made everypony jump. Reflexively, Bracken leaped back, falling into a fighting stance.

The letterbox was pushed open and a familiar voice called through,

“Is anypony in? Amber? Nightjar? Hello? HELLO?”

Bracken’s father trotted to the front door, pushing it open to the nigh on hysterical white mare,

“Lake? What’s going on?”

Bracken could hear the conversation coming from the hallway, his ears twitching as he listened.

“Why are you standing like that?” the filly sitting next to him asked, shovelling another piece of toast into her mouth, “You look silly!”

“Shush!” Bracken said waving his hoof at his sister. She harrumphed and crossed her forelegs in mock exasperation as she licked the jam off her hooves.

A few seconds later, Lake’s face appeared in the doorway, her striking scarlet eyes wide with worry,

“Bracken? Oh thank the goddess you’re here!”

“What is it? Is Chalky okay?” His heart suddenly racing, Bracken’s hoof instinctively began reach for the sword that wasn’t there.

Lake shook her head, “I don’t know! All hell’s broken loose in town!” She turned to Bracken’s mother, “Amber, for the love of Luna, don’t let Marbles go into school today.”

“Why” Amber asked, “What’s going on, Lake?”

The distressed white mare shook her long green mane,

“Thestrals! There’s a whole group of them in the village! They just walked in.”

Bracken’s ear twitched, “But so what?” he said in a calmer voice than he felt, “They haven’t hurt anypony, have they?”

“No!” Lake rubbed her face with a foreleg, clearly trying to focus her thoughts, “It’s old pony Jitters, the idiot went wild when they appeared. He started shouting he was going to ‘Defend Equestria’ or something and the next thing anypony knew was that one of the thestrals had been shot.”

Amber looked like she was ready to faint, “Oh goddesses, no…”

Bracken’s father went to his wife’s side to comfort her, “Whats this got to do with Chalky?” he asked, “The war’s over, Lake. Let the thestral’s deal with Jitters.”

Lake shook her head, “You don’t understand! When Chalk heard about it, he rushed off into the village!” The white mare looked like she was going to be sick, “I checked his room, and he’s…he’s taken his sword with him. Bracken, I…I think he might do something stupid. Please, can you…?”

“Buck it all!” Bracken spat, “I’ll bring the silly sod back. Don’t worry, Lake, get yourself a cup of tea. I’ll be back soon.”

In short order, Bracken had his cloak across his shoulders and was out the door, leaving a shocked and worried household behind him. If he could, he would have barricaded the door to keep them safe, but what would that achieve? The thestrals were part of Nightmare Moon’s army and although the war was officially over, their troops would no doubt still be active for some time to come. Unfortunately, the thestrals themselves were nothing short of terrifying in appearance and ponies, who were often easily unsettled by the unknown already, tended to react badly when confronted with them. That still didn’t stop them being painfully inquisitive though, Bracken thought to himself as he rounded the corner of the general store and into the mass of ponies all staring at the newcomers.

The village centre was packed, with most of the onlookers jammed together watching the strange black coated creatures in silent fascination as they tending to one of their downed comrades. Meanwhile, several of the thestrals had taken up defensive positions and held their heavy looking crossbows at the ready. Fortunately for all concerned, the village doctor was on hoof, but seemed to be having some problem communicating with the soldiers. By his gesturing, it appeared to be more a case of him being hopelessly out of his depth. Bracken scanned the mass of equines, looking for Chalky, but of his friend, there was no sign.

“What’s going on?” Bracken asked one of the ponies in the crowd, hoping for more information.

The tan stallion pointed at the downed thestral with his hoof,

“One of them’s been shot.”

“I can see that!” Bracken sighed, “Who did it?”

“How should I know?” The stallion said rolling his eyes, “Even they don’t…look out!”

There was a loud ‘thunk’ as a crossbow bolt slammed into the ground right by Brackens hooves. The thestrals responded immediately, hissing and clicking to each other in their strange language. By their body language, it was clear they’d quickly homed in on the direction the shooting was coming from…

“Oh Goddess…” Bracken breathed, “Not the bloody school.” He turned back to the tan stallion, “Are there any foals in there?”

The stallion shrugged, “Probably at this time of the morning.They have breakfast club.”

Bracken spat angrily, and looked around the crowd again. Still no sign of…A sudden thought hit him – surely the shooter wasn’t…? Damn it! He went to move off as a tall sleek thestral stallion appeared right in front of him,

“Move out of the way, Celestian…” the thestral hissed, then stopped, turning back slowly to peer at where the black pony had been standing only a moment ago.

“He’s buggered off.” The tan stallion chipped in, jerking a hoof in the direction Bracken had gone.

The thestral shook its head and trotted across to speak to the doctor.

Running as hard as he could, Bracken dodged instinctively from cover to cover, closing in on the back of the school house but careful to keep out of sight of the large bay windows. The shooting, by the looks of it was more than likely to be coming from the school bell tower, but in the poor light today, it was difficult to tell for sure. One thing was for sure though, there were definitely foals in the school - he could hear them inside crying whilst an adult’s voice tried to calm them. Bracken took several deep breaths, readying himself for a run to the rear door, when…

“Brack?!”

Bracken stumbled over his own hooves in surprise,

“Gah! Celestia shaft me, Chalky! Where the hell have you been?! What are you doing here?”

“Good time for questions, isn’t it!” Chalk hissed, “It’s that crazy old stallion you walloped the other day, he’s holed up in the bell tower.”

“Damn it!” Bracken rubbed a foreleg across his face, “Mum said that idiot Jitters went nuts when the thestrals came into the village. One of them’s down, but the rest are homing in on the school.”

“Bollocks!” Chalk adjusted his sword belt and shook his head angrily, “You know what these buggers are like, Brack. We have to get the foals out of there.”

The black stallion nodded, “Got it. Let’s move.”

The two slipped around the side of the tool shed, Chalk watching each corner before waving Bracken across. The threat was no doubt targeted towards the thestrals, but there was no sense in taking chances. If it really was Jitters, he’d really crossed the line this time. The bigger concern though, was that if the thestrals stormed the school, the chances were they wouldn’t distinguish between their foe and innocent bystanders.

Chalk was the first to reach the back door and peered over the window ledge. Bracken slipped up beside him,

“You see anything?”

“Rear doors locked.” Chalk whispered, “I can see the foals and the teacher, they’re just on the other side.”

Bracken nodded to his friend. There was only one way they could do this now. They were out of time. The shouting from the thestrals coming from the front of the school may have been in an alien language, but it still carried an urgency and intent that the two friends recognised - they were going to assault the school.

“Ready?” Chalk mouthed.

Bracken nodded.

“One…two…three!”

With an almighty thump, Bracken bucked open the rear doors and the two of them ran in shouting as loud as they could. Miss Trinity, the school mistress was huddled in the corner like some mother hen with her chicks, holding a large ladle and waving it at them menacingly,

“Keep back! I’m warning you!”

Chalk drew ran up to the partition wall, watching the open hatch while Bracken braved the ladle wielding mare,

“Miss Trinity! Come on, follow me!”

The pink mare’s eyes went wide, “B…Bracken?”

“Yes, it’s me! Now hurry up, quickly!”

Trinity began hurriedly organising the foals and headed for the back door. Bracken stopped her as she was about to leave,

“Head for the tool shed, from there the store house. Keep the foals in there, I’ll be right behind you, understand? Don’t stop for anything!”

Agonisingly slowly, the foals began to troop out, following their teacher all in a row. Bracken checked around the room then rushed over to Chalky,

“It’s clear, come on, time to get the buck out of here.”

Bracken rushed out of the door, Chalky backing out covering them. There was no sign of Jitters though, maybe he’d…a sound made Chalk freeze. It was a scratching, like something was moving, and then he heard it…a whimper. It was coming from the cupboard under the sink. Pulling the door open, a yellow coated foal stared up at him with huge blue eyes. She backed away as far as she could in terror, but Chalk didn’t have time to be gentle,

“Out you come!” he said merrily, or at least as much as he could.

With a squeak of fright, the foal was extracted from the cupboard and held under Chalk’s shoulder. Three legs it was then! After a quick check that the coast was clear, Chalk made for the back door just as the front one exploded into fragments,

“You there! Down on the ground, NOW!”

“Watch your aim, he’s got a foal!”

Chalk froze, moving the foal behind him and faced the thestrals slowly,

“Don’t shoot! I’m not your enemy!”

One of the thestrals, rushed forward, and roughly shoved Chalk to the floor,

“Stay down!”

The heavily armoured warrior shouted over to the others in a series of shrieks, hisses and clicks, which had them all quickly taking positions around the school room, covering the hatchway to the bell tower. Chalk gasped for breath, the weight of the thestral was incredible for such a skeletal looking creature, but he knew all too well how their appearance belied the frightening strength that lay beneath that heavy armour. The school room fell silent, and then a noise, a distinct scraping and banging drifted down from the bell tower.

“You!” The thestral hissed at Chalk, “Do you know the pony that shot my comrade?”

“I think so,” Chalk wheezed, “let me speak to him…I may be able to convince him to give himself up.”

“Do it!” The black armoured creature snapped, and released Chalk.

Coughing and gasping to get his breath back, Chalk gave himself a shake and stepped forward, all too aware of the burning eyes of the Legion’s warriors watching him. He lifted his head and took a deep breath,

“Jitters! Is that you up there?”

Silence.

He tried again, “Jitters, give yourself up for the Goddess’s sake. Don’t you think there’s been enough suffering? The war’s over!”

“I know your voice…” the familiar voice called down, “You’re that traitor, the coward…you don’t deserve to call yourself Equestrian.”

Chalk could feel his blood beginning to boil, his anger rising, but he had to try and defuse this somehow. Goddess help him if these thestrals thought he actually had some connection with the old goat, “Jitters, these soldiers are here on the orders of the princess, they’re not here to harm you or the people of the town.” Chalk hoped that was actually true.

“It’s all lies!” Jitters yelled, “And you’re one of them! A traitor to our princess, the real princess of Equestria, not that damned whore, Nightmare Moon!”

A hoof roughly knocked Chalk out of the way as the thestrals began to move. The tallest, Chalk presumed by the white stripes on his armour was an officer of some kind, blew a thin snort of smoke from his nostrils,

“Burn him out.”

“What?!” Chalk rounded on the thestral, “Dear goddesses, don’t!”

The thestral lifted his crossbow and pointed it at the white unicorn’s throat, addressing the others,

“Do it.”

Several of the warriors lifted their muzzles and breathed in, the hissing, whooshing sound one that Chalk recognised all too well. He closed his eyes, knowing what was coming next. Flames erupted from the bell tower, the glare so bright it was unbearable even through his closed eyelids. If only he could have closed his ear too…then he wouldn’t have had to endure the screams that followed.

In a burning, screaming crash, Jitters jumped from the bell tower and out onto the roof. His fur ablaze, his mane and tail a fiery mass of smoking charring flames, the elderly pony dropped to the ground sending the terrified citizens of Wellford Springs into a blind panic. Meanwhile, Chalk was dragged bodily outside, the thestrals leading the way and surrounding the stricken Jitters. Chalk gasped in alarm,

“For the love of the goddess, somepony get some water!”

In answer, the burning elderly stallion rose to his hooves and somehow managed to draw a dagger. Uttering a dreadful howl of defiance, he threw himself at the thestral commander. Chalk stared in horror, unable to speak, unable to help. It was a sight he would never forget, and one he’d remember in his nightmares until his dying day. Jitters, the drunken old stallion, charged, his words echoing out around the village,

“FOR CELESTIA AND EQUESTRIA!”

It was the last thing he would ever say. Half a dozen steel tipped bolts ripped mercillessly into the smoking, smouldering wreckage that had once been a life. The villagers, those who hadn’t already fled in abject terror, stared at the blackened corpse, their eyes wide with shock. Some cried, some vomited where they stood, but Chalk could only feel pity for the old stallion. What a waste of a life, ended so brutally and in such a pointless manner…foolish. He closed his eyes and let out a pent up breath - at least the foals were safe.

The tallest of the thestrals, a stallion by the looks of it, walked over to Chalk and glowered down at him,

“Where is your friend, the black pony?”

“Who?”

The thestral half turned and then back-hoofed him across the muzzle,

“Don’t lie to me, boy. Do you think me a fool?”

A loud commotion broke out from behind the store house making Chalk’s heart sink. It was Bracken, being dragged half conscious by another thestral. By the looks of him, the rats had really done a number on him too, but at least he was alive. Without a word spoken, Chalk’s friend was shoved to the ground next to him, both ponies covered by the crossbow wielding thestral warriors. Their commander turned to face the villagers,

“I am First Spear Arc of the Royal Inquisitorial Inspectorate Command. By order of the Goddess, any and all resistance or opposition to her divine rule of law shall NOT BE TOLERATED.” The tall thestral’s eyes flared as he paced back and forth, smoke curling out from his nostrils, “These two,” he waved a hoof at Bracken and Chalk, “have interfered in the execution of a murderer, and therefore shall be executed as an example to all of you that although loyalty shall be rewarded, disobedience will result in death.”

Chalk sighed, casting a look at his friend,

“Sorry Brack…”

Bracken shook his head,

“Don’t worry, Chalky. See you on the other side, dude.”

The thestral span, screeching at Bracken, “SILENCE!”

“Oh go buck yourself, you cock.” Bracken laughed, “What are you going to do, kill us twice?”

A hoof shot out, grabbing Bracken around the neck,

“You…!”

He froze. Bracken’s eyes suddenly flew wide open, a sound of rushing air emanating from his open mouth making everypony back away hurriedly. Chalk stared in horror as light, an otherworldly white glare, poured from his friend’s mouth while the very sky above them darkened, plunging the village into almost complete blackness; black, except for the blinding light that now shining out of his friends eyes like search lights. The thestral officer looked stricken, as if unable to let go of the pony in his grasp. Chalk’s horn began to itch horribly, the sure sign of a large magical build up, but…it seemed to be coming from…Bracken?

A voice, heavy, feminine, and commanding, boomed out across the village. The source, incredibly, was Bracken himself,

“First Spear Arc, this pony is not to be harmed. By my order, you are to release him and his friend immediately. Any injury upon his person, or the ponies of this village, I will take as a personal attack against my person. Do you understand this?”

The thestral, Arc, bowed low to the ground as, in fact, did the others. His voice sounded respectful and, Chalk noticed, utterly obedient.

“Yes, your divinity.”

“Good. You have your order, First Spear Arc. I expect you to carry them out.”

“By your divine guidance.”

Chalk’s ears popped, the sudden change in air pressure so dramatic it caused the very roofs of the buildings to shudder and rattle violently. Around him, the ponies winced, rubbing their ears to try and alleviate the strange sensation. Whatever had happened, whatever that was, it certainly had an effect - the thestrals simply got up, collected their gear, and walked away…

It was so quiet Chalk could have heard a pin drop. Only his heart pounding in his chest and his breathing, reminded him he was, quite surprisingly, still alive. Beside him, Bracken stirred,

“Ch…Chalky? Goddesses, my bloody head! What’s going on…are we dead?”

Stirred into action, Chalk grabbed Bracken’s head in his hooves,

“Brack, listen to me. Something’s going on, I don’t know what it is, but we need to get out of here!”

“Why? Where are the thestrals?” Bracken looked around himself in a half daze. The world had seemed to ‘jump’. One minute he was about to be executed and the next thing he knew he was sat on his haunches in front of a mob of very confused looking villagers. He narrowed his eyes, “Why are they looking at me like that?”

The black stallion rose to his hooves and immediately several of the villagers shrieked and tried to back away, the rest of them surging back like a school of fish frightened by a shark.

“Chalk? I don’t like this…”

“Come on, Brack!” Chalk hissed, “We have to go!”

Bracken’s head began pounding like a drum, the pain and nausea easing quickly but still making him a little unsteady on his hooves as he ran after his friend. His house was nearest, and the two of them hammered on the door which was opened moments later by Nightjar,

“Bracken? Chalky? What’s going on? We could smell smoke.”

Bracken tried to catch his breath, “Dad, look, I’m sorry but somethings happened and I have to go.”

Amber and Marbles appeared from the kitchen covered in flour,

“What’s that? You’re going? What do you mean, you’ve just come home!”

Bracken hurriedly began grabbing his gear from his room and kissed his mother on the forehead, “Mum, I’m sorry, if I could explain it, I would, but Chalky and I have to get out of here. If I manage to work things out, I’ll…” he’ll what? Goddess damn it, he didn’t have a clue what was going on, and yet he had an overwhelming urge to run, to get away as far from here as possible. He had to protect his family, no matter what. Bracken leaned down and gave Marbles a quick hug, the youngster shoving him off with an irritated look on her face. For his Dad, he gave him nod and then pulled the surprised stallion into an embrace, “Bye Dad…I love you, all of you. If anyone asks, tell them you don’t know where we’ve gone.”

Amber lifted a hoof, “But…We don’t know where you’re going!”

“Good! Neither do we!” The black stallion charged off up the garden path, “Goddess bless you all!”

Chalk’s house was next, but of his mother, Lake, there was no sign, only the smell of cinnamon buns, freshly baked and sitting on a rack to cool. A small note next to it read,

‘Take four for yourself and four for Bracken’

“Goddess bless you Mum,” he said quietly, dropping the buns into his pack. Hurrying down the hallway, in a surprising display of acrobatics, Chalk swung up through the loft hatch. A great deal of banging and scraping later, he re-appeared carrying his sword, several dusty old books, and sporting a big grin on his face, “She never found my hidey hole!”

Bracken shook his mane, “You ready?”

Chalk shook his head, “Nope, but we’ve got food, water, bits and the devil biting at our arses.” He shrugged, “So it’ll have to do.”

The black stallion nodded, “Then let’s shift it Mister Chalk”

The friends turned to leave as a shadow appeared in the doorway…a shadow in white with a green mane and flashing scarlet eyes,

“You aren’t ‘shifting’ anywhere!” Lake tossed her mane angrily, “I’m not losing my son again!”

Chalk’s tail flicked irritably, “Mum, please, you don’t understand what’s going on here…”

“-And neither do you!” she shouted, “I heard what happened in the village Chalky, and what happened to Bracken. Don’t you see? This is a sign! A sign from the Goddess! You can’t just run off!”

Chalk stomped his hoof, “Sign or not Mum, you saw the looks on the villagers faces. They were terrified of us!”

“Terrified of Bracken!” she turned to Chalk’s friend, “I’m sorry Bracken, but if you feel you have to go, then go. You’re not taking Chalky.”

“Mum, I’m a fully grown stallion!” Chalk snapped at his mother, “You can’t order me around anymore.”

Lake’s eye’s flashed dangerously, “You are not going anywhere! Put that stuff back, and that bloody sword as well. I thought I’d thrown all that rubbish out years ago.”

“I’m not Dad, Mum, and I’m not abandoning you, but I have to look out for my friend. Bracken was the only one who stood up for me when those bullies…” Chalk trailed off.

Lake’s eyes were full of tears, “It…its happening again! I’m going to be alone, alone again…”

“Mum…I’m so sorry.” Chalk lifted a hoof up to touch her, but she backed away, her sides heaving. “Mum, look, I promise I’ll be back. I promise.”

“LIKE HE DID?!” Lake suddenly shrieked, “He never came back, Chalky! He went off on some bloody hair brained adventure and I never saw him again! I can’t…I can’t lose you too!”

Chalk pulled his resisting mother into an embrace and kissed her on the forehead,

“I’ll be back Mum. I don’t know when, but so long as there’s breath in my body, I’ll be back. And, Goddess willing, I’ll bring someone home I’d like you to meet too.”

“What? Who?” The white mare sputtered.

Chalk slipped past his mother to the front door, “She’s a pirate!”

Laughing and waving, Chalk charged off up the road his tail and mane whipping out behind him, his friend close by. He closed his eyes as he ran, wishing there’d been some other way, a better way, but at least he was doing ‘something’, and it made his heart soar. Bracken had the same look about him too, the look of freedom, the promise of adventure burning in his heart. Whatever had happened, they could discuss it later, but for now, they just wanted to run and get away from Wellford.

Bracken shouted over to him, “Where are we going? I’m just following you!”

Chalk laughed out loud, “That’s us knackered then, I was following you!”

The cold north wind blew across the land, its bitter chill promising ice and snow would be visited upon the land all too soon. Chalk shook his mane and kicked up his hooves. His Dad had gone north, and north sounded…’adventurous’ somehow. He grinned to himself…North it was!

Chapter Twenty Nine - Before the Mast

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

BEFORE THE MAST

Doc and Gretel trotted along the road leading up to one of the smaller buildings on the island. The Captain hadn’t explained much - in fact ‘Come with me’ was pretty much the extent of the conversation. He clucked his tongue. He’d been having such a nice chat with Strata too! He’d never met such an intelligent and insightful stallion before. The crew by comparison were all a little, well, ‘less intellectually stimulating’ to say the least. Years of alcohol had probably killed more of their brain cells than he could shake a hoof at. The Captain suddenly stopped, her eyes flashing dangerously,

“Doc, have you noticed anypony on the crew acting strangely lately?”

Doc shrugged, “No more than usual, Captain and certainly nothing that jumps out at me.”

Gretel frowned, “That’s what bothers me.”

“Is that why we’re here?” Doc asked.

The Captain gritted her teeth, clearly annoyed about something. First making sure nopony was nearby, she banged her hoof on the ground and shook her mane, “It’s this whole business, Doc, all of it” She said letting out a sigh, “I thought Hay Wain may have been behind it, but that just doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Too grandiose?” Doc asked quietly, “You know what that would do to his reputation if it got out that he’d betrayed an entire ship and her crew. He’d be finished.”

Gretel nodded, “True enough, but that’s not to say he wouldn’t if the payout was big enough. But, no…I don’t think he did.”

“Why?”

“Because if he had,” Gretel reasoned, “there wouldn’t be any need for Aeon to kidnap Lord Rapere’s daughter. He could have just waited for us to dock and then move in and take us out.”

“What about as insurance?” Doc asked, “It’s possible that Aeon captured the girl to ensure they’d play along.”

“Maybe…maybe…” Gretel scratched her chin thoughtfully, “I just don’t see it though. To do something like that, it’s so risky, and would have destroyed the Wind Wraith’s reputation with the griffins, and you know how influential they are in weapons trading.”

Doc sat on haunches, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, “So if it wasn’t Hay Wain behind this, then who? Are you suggesting somepony on the crew?”

Gretel looked at him for a long moment, “Perhaps. There was very little time before we departed, so I suspect it was either somepony in Hay Wains employ, or…”

“-One of our crew…” Doc finished.

Gretel closed her eyes, “I can’t, or more specifically, don’t want to believe it, Doc, but I’m damned well going to find out.”

“But how?” Doc asked, “Good goddesses, Gretel, for all you know it could have been me!”

The red mare grinned, “I doubt that. You’ve had years were you could have done away with your lovely Captain.” She shook her head, “No, I’m going to have a little chat with somepony who will know.”

“Who?”

Gretel raised an eyebrow and beckoned Doc to follow her,

“Remember that little snot who tried to shaft us on the arms deal last year?”

Doc furrowed his brow, “Ah…”

Of course he remembered. That little swine had nearly had them wiped out by dragons. It was only pure luck that one of the crew had overheard a conversation in the tavern by one of the Wind Wraiths drunkards that they’d managed to escape. It had in actuality been a very poorly concocted plan in the first place - a simple misdirection really, putting them right in the flight path of the annual dragon migration, and after spraying hormones on the Revenge’s hull…of course. The next part of their plan would have been even easier. While the Revenge was busy being humped into matchwood by rampant dragons, the Wind Wraith would simply snuck in and flogged their own cargo of weapons to the now desperate buyer at a vastly inflated price. Better yet, they could then scavenge the wreck of the Revenge for more cargo on the return trip. Once the dragons had left of course. Doc shook his head. Goddesses, they’d trotted right into that one.

Gretel nodded to the guards, “I believe Lord Rapere sent word?”

“Yes, Captain Gretel” one of the griffins replied tersely, and neatly sidestepped the outer steel door after first unlocking it.

Inside the storehouse itself, the smaller locked room was apparently used for especially valuable items. Last time she’d been in here, the valuable items in question had been herself and two of her crewponies. This time however, the tables had turned, and their captor had become the captive. A familiar cream coated pony and several of the Wind Wraiths crew including, she noticed, the blue feathered griffin ‘assistant’ sat dejectedly awaiting their fate.

“Come to gloat?” Impulse said quietly, shaking his crimson mane, “I wondered how long it would take you to get here.”

“I have to say I do find the irony, what’s the word now…Delicious?” Gretel smirked.

“Go to hell.”

“Already been there,” Gretel replied tartly, “Ever seen a horny dragon, Impulse?”

The cream earth pony barked out a laugh,

“Ha! Pity that didn’t work out so well, you’d have made a fine mate for one of those things.”

“Indeed.” Gretel leaned against the bars, “Now, how about a little chat, you and I?”

“What about?” Impulse asked suspiciously, “You killed Aeon and you’ve taken our ship as a prize. What the hell have we got left to talk about?”

The red mare began to examine her hoof absently, “Well, in the absence of their former employer, I’ve been considering hiring on the former crew of the Wind Wraith. Providing they haven’t been involved in any particular ‘unpleasantness’ with the, shall we say, ‘cargo’?” The other ponies in the cell began to mutter excitedly to themselves. “Oops!” Gretel chuckled, “Looks like I won’t need to speak to you after all then, Mister Impulse. Your friends know a good deal when they hear one.” She called through the bars, “Whadda ya say lads?”

“AYE!”

“And there you go,” she smiled at the cream earth pony glaring up at her, “enjoy the hospitality of the griffins, Impulse, I hope you…er, go down well?”

“What the hell do you want from me?” Impulse mumbled bitterly.

Gretel smiled, “Who told you I was coming here?”

“Ah! I wondered if you’d ask that. Haven’t figured it out yet then?” Impulse smirked, “Get me out of here and I’ll tell you what I know.”

The Captain nodded, “Done.”

Impulse grinned menacingly, “I don’t know who it was specifically, but it was one of the Revenge’s crew alright. We’d been on our way here to trade when a pegasus, a damned fast one too, found our ship and brought a message scroll to the Captain.”

“How do you know it was from one of the Revenge’s crew?” Gretel asked.

Impulse shook his mane as he replied, “Because the Captain told me it was ‘from an old friend’, and I sure as hell know that isn’t Hay Wain, not after the whole dragon thing.”

“Aye…you crapped in your own nest on that one alright.” Doc chipped in, earning a sneer from the Wind Wraiths former officer.

“And you never asked or found out who it was?” Gretel asked.

“Aeon didn’t tell ponies things he didn’t want them to know,” Impulse said levelly, “not even the Master of his own ship.”

“What do you think?” Gretel whispered to Doc.

The blue ships doctor kept his voice low so the other couldn’t hear him,

“I think he’s telling the truth. After all, his hides on the line, his Captains dead, so it’s in his own best interests to be truthful.”

Gretel looked away thoughtfully.

Impulse banged on the bars, “Hoy! I told you what you wanted to know, so let me out of here! A deals a deal Captain, remember?”

Gretel snorted, “You’re a bilge rat, Impulse, and one I’d see hanging from the yard arm given the choice. But yes, a deal is a deal. I’ll let you out and arrange for you to be taken to a port.” She turned back and fixed him with a stared, “But let me tell you something, Impulse; if I see you again, I’ll use you for shark bait.”

Impulse quailed, his crewmates sniggering cruelly behind him.

“Come on Doc,” the red mare said calmly, “We have work to do.”

The two ponies headed back to the ship. Impulse could wait, Gretel thought to herself bitterly. Let him see what it was like wondering what was going to happen to you as you sat behind bars. She hated that pony, and yet in a sense she felt some remorse for him. Maybe he hadn’t always been that way. Perhaps being on a ship with the brutal Aeon had made him that way. She shook her mane and took a breath of the clean air outside. No, brutalised or not, it didn’t excuse his actions…not in the slightest.

“Doc, I want everypony given shore leave. Rapere has offered us full use of their beer hall and the crew have earned it, so let’s give them a night to remember.” She raised an eyebrow, fixing him with a knowing gaze, “All except the Wind Wraith’s slugs, and a skeleton crew to watch them. They still have cleaning to do.”

“The griffins have offered us guards to help keep an eye on them” Doc replied matter-of-factly.

Gretel nodded, “Good, then use them as well. You and I have a job to do tonight”

Doc held up a hoof, halting her, “Um…Captain, there’s something I wanted to ask.”

“Yes, Doc?”

The blue stallion suddenly blushed, “Its about Strata.”

“What about him?”

“I…I know it’s a little unorthodox,” Doc said bashfully, “but…I would like you to consider letting him stay on board, as a member of the crew.”

Gretel balked, “Strata? Celestia’s hairy arse, are you kidding me?”

Doc said nothing.

“You’re not are you?” Gretel sighed and shook her head, “What is it with all these bloody unicorns lately?” She thought for a while, letting the chill emptiness of the night air flow over her. She couldn’t really deny Doc’s request when she’d wanted the same for Chalk now could she? But that Strata…he was a blasted nuisance! And yet, he had proved useful, and may again some day. She shrugged,”Let me have a think about it, Doc. Please.”

“Thanks, Gretel, really” Doc smiled distantly.

“Sure.”

Leaving the Doctor to pass on the message to the crew, Gretel entered her cabin and took down a bottle of brandy from the rack. In the dimmed light from the lantern it still sparkled like liquid gold in its clear glass bottle. Many of the bottles she had were of cheaper green glass, but this, one of the very best from the northern tribes, was one of the best. She’d hoped that one day she’d be sharing it with somepony special, somepony who would be with her…forever. Gretel sighed and leaned on her desk. She wasn’t getting any younger, and most mares had already borne foals by her age. Still, she had a few good years left in to have children, didn’t she? Maybe…But then, she’d dared to dream hadn’t she? That white unicorn, the ‘bit of fun’ she’d wanted to help relieve her pent up stress, had affected her more than she’d thought possible and right when she’d made her mind up, he’d disappeared like a fart in a bubble bath. She snorted to herself and put the bottle back in the rack, pouring instead a glass of the harsher spirit she’d picked up from the market is Spurs Anvil. For a moment she paused; how much was she drinking lately? She could have sworn there were more bottles earlier. Gretel shook her mane irritably; it was just another thing she’d have to address later. Slugging it back, she slumped back in her chair and put her hind legs up on the table, leaning back with a sigh,

“Bloody stallions…”

Once she’d got the Revenge and the Wind Wraith ship shape, she’d see if she could find him. Maybe…maybe she could hire a few pegasi. Yes! Yes…that could work! Pouring another glass, Gretel could feel her mood lift slightly. She liked plans, and both Doc and Stock had the sort of practical mindset that could help her, but…what if he’d changed his mind? Maybe he’d found somepony else already? Maybe…maybe he’d been…

“Captain? The crew’s off ship, there’s just us two.” Doc leaned his hooves on the table, “Are you alright?”

Gretel leaped to her hooves, “Never better!” She trotted to the door and paused to take a breath of the fresh air flowing across the deck and all the sounds and smells of the night. She nodded to herself; some day, things would work out. All she had to do until then was stay the course, and keep herself focussed. Tonight, that focus was finding something that may give her a clue as to the traitorous cur who’d sold them out. A bitter taste to be sure, but necessary. Gretel looked over her shoulder at the blue stallion,

“Come on Doc, let’s get this over with.”

Below decks, the two of them headed straight for the crews quarters. Located in the forward end of the ship, each crewpony had their own bunk and locker, a luxury aboard many vessels but a tradition of the Revenge since before Gretels’ father’s time. It had a certain character all of its own down here, or maybe that was just the smell? Gretel’s nose wrinkled up…definitely the smell. Bathing was encouraged on board of course, but when that usually constituted little more than a bucket and a cloth, the crew’s odour could take on a life of its own, haunting the lower decks on hot days and assaulting the nasal passages of the unwary. Shipboard life certainly had its quirks, the Captain pondered, reaching the first of the bunks.

Doc opened the locker, “Captain, do you have any idea what we’re looking for?”

“Nope” Gretel replied, “But I think we’ll know it when we find it.”

Locker after locker, bunk after bunk, the quarters were searched, but their efforts unearthed little more than private stashes of a few coins, trinkets from shore and pictures that would make your mother blush - the usual sailor’s fare.

“Damn it.” Doc muttered, “Better see Chips about getting that board fixed, I nearly broke my leg there.” He shrugged and moved to the next bunk.

“Hang on…” Gretel moved him out of the way and peered at the loose board, “Chips bunks in here, she’d know about…” she trailed off, looking closer, “Here, give me a hoof with this.”

“Wait!” Docs head whipped round, “Buck it! Somepony’s coming.”

“Damn! Quick, behind the crates.”

Whoever it was, wasn’t particularly stealthy either, singing a drunken shanty about rigging, or at least something that sounded like it. Gretel kept close to the floor, daring to peek round as the newcomer staggered sideways into one of the bunks, laughing to themselves. Whoever it was stopped and peered around, lifting a hoof and making ‘shushing’ sounds while giggling drunkly. With a loud burp, the pony, leaned down, almost pitching muzzle first in the process. A lot of fumbling later, they found the loose board,

“Come to daddy, my beauty!”

Doc and Gretel rose as one from behind the packing crates. Before them, the brown and cream stallion was rummaging around behind the plank and pulled out a large brown hessian sack,

“Gotcha!” he said in triumph, “Time to…eh?”

Gretel rounded the corner of the bunk,

“Evening, Salty.”

“Agh! C…Cap’n!” The crewpony sputtered, “It b’aint what it look like!”

“And exactly how should it look, Salty?” Gretel asked, “Should we see?”

“No!” The old stallion snatched the sack away, but Doc was quicker and managed to grab it out of the sailors grip.

The brown and cream stallion lunged for the sack, succeeding in gripping it in his teeth as the two ponies began a brief tug of war. It didn’t last more than a few seconds until, with a soft tearing sound, the tortured material gave way and a shower of bits poured out onto the floor together with a large silver disk. Gretel’s eyes locked onto it immediately. She’d seen them before; it was a ships pass, each one bearing a stamped seal which was given to crew for when they went ashore on official business. Each pass was unique to the originating vessel, and this one…

She held it up to the light, where it gleamed and twinkled in the lamplight.

Salty stood in silence, Doc beside him as the three of them stared at the silver disc. It was crude, certainly not intended for decoration, but was a thing of singular purpose and functionality. The Captain shook her head sadly and closed her eyes. Salty had been one of her Dad’s crew, a pony whom she would have trusted her life with, a pony who was, in all actuality, too old to work the decks but kept on because he was…family. She lifted the pass, letting it dangle from her hoof as the three of them focussed on it. Gretel’s voice was soft, almost gentle,

“Why do you have a ships pass for the Wind Wraith?”

Salty licked his lips, trying to get his words out,

“Cap’n! I…Oh by the Goddesses, I don’t know! I ain’t never seen such a thing in all me…”

“-Don’t lie to me!” Gretel said loudly, “I’m trying to think of some reason why, Salty, why you would have this hidden by your bunk with a load of bits, but I can’t…I just can’t.” She looked up at him, “Tell me…”

“Please, Cap’n! I didn’t know that was there! I wasn’t…”

“Salty…” Gretel began, taking a deep breath, “You’re under arrest. Doc, throw him in the brig.”

The old crewpony stomped his hoof desperately,

“No! Damn it, Cap’n, I ain’t done nothing!”

“Mister Salt,” Gretel hissed, her hoof reaching for her sword, “If you don’t go with Doc now, I will cut you down where you stand. Now for the Goddess’s sake, do as I tell you while I still have control of my temper!”

Salty hung his head, his ears drooping, “Aye, aye, Cap’n”.

Gretel watched Doc take him away. Salty…Why? Of all the ponies she had on the crew, why him? Leaning against the wall, Gretel cast her mind back, back to when she was a foal, when dad was still alive. Salty had been there then; a middle aged stallion, his brown and cream patched coat making him stand out quite a bit from the rest, but he was a damned good helmspony. With Haggis still in training, Salty was the best there was, and Dad had trusted him emphatically. So much so, that he’d often left him in charge of his daughter when he needed somepony to keep the little one safe, especially after…she sighed…Pickles. Gretel couldn’t help but raise a sad smile at the memory of all of the old pony’s stories; the ones where he had been involved in some exciting duel or a battle against wyverns and dragons - they were amazing really, but now…now she didn’t…

Gretel’s eyes flew open. Wyverns?

With a neigh, she charged from the room and headed for the brig where she met Doc walking back to meet her,

“Doc, come with me…”

Dragging the startled looking blue stallion behind her, Gretel charged into her cabin and began grabbing bottles, glasses, and anything else she could use as a paperweight.

“Captain?” Doc asked in confusion.

Gretel clucked her tongue, running her hoof over the maps and chart until she found what she was looking for. Pulling the yellowed map free, she unrolled it on the table and weighted down the corners,

“Bring the lamp over here, Doc.”

The light from the lantern was just enough. With a jolt, she found what she was looking for and slammed her hoof on the map before walking off to the back of the cabin,

“Tell me what it says there, to north-east. Right in the north-east corner of the map.”

Doc leaned in, examining the map. It was old certainly, with a faint musty odour and had been drawn on vellum by the looks of it. Typically of maps this old, it was devoid of much of the information more modern versions held. In fact, great swathes of it had either simply been left blank or marked as ‘Unknown’ and there, sure enough in the top right corner as Gretel had said, below a picture of a snaking serpent was…

“‘Here be Wyvern’s’?” Doc scratched his muzzle, puzzled at the Captains question, “All that means is that the cartographer didn’t know what was there. Sometimes it’s sea monsters, sometimes dragons, it doesn’t matter really though because it’s all pretty much the same thing.”

“Is it?” Gretel asked, “Have you ever seen a Wyvern, Doc?”

“Not personally. They’re dragon-like snake things, aren’t they? I’ve heard them mentioned but mostly by those from the northern lands. Those yaks may know something if we need to know more about that part of the world, but I don’t see what that has to do with Salty.”

“You knew him before me, didn’t you?” Gretel asked.

Doc nodded, “Yes, he came aboard just before me.”

“But he was an old hoof then wasn’t he?”

“I think so,” Doc said furrowing his brow in thought, “he served other vessels before he came here. Some think he worked on the…oh, Gretel…the Wind Wraith? But that was years ago!”

Gretel shook her head, “No…not the Wind Wraith.”

“You’re going to have to help me with this one,” Doc said with a frown, “I haven’t got a clue where you’re going with it.”

Gretel smiled, “Then let’s go straight to the source.”

******************

The old cream and brown patched stallion sat sullenly in the brig, his short black mane was mostly grey now, his once bright blue eyes dulled from the lustre Gretel remembered as a filly. His ears were flopped down and his voice a mere mumble as she addressed him,

“Salty? I want to ask you some questions.”

“Aye…” he swallowed, “…Cap’n”

Even now, after all the years he’d been aboard, Gretel couldn’t help but still see the younger stallion whenever she saw him working. The neat, trim male with the winning smile and the one everypony on the crew looked to for advice and wisdom. Now, the stallion looked as if the world he knew and loved had ended, the pain in his heart as transparent as a glass bubble. The red coated Captain shook her mane angrily, but not at him…at herself…

“You were on my Dad’s crew, weren’t you.” She asked.

“Aye”

“You used to work sky galleons before you came to him, didn’t you.”

There was a pause.

“Salty, please,” Gretel pressed, “I need to know the truth.”

He didn’t look up, his mouth moving in a bare mumble,

“Aye”

Gretel leaned against the cell door, “What was the name of the ship you served on?”

Nothing.

“Salty!”

The old stallion’s ears twitched, “The Silver Hind.”

“Bollocks it was!” Gretel snapped, “I know Captain Ursa and she only ever sails the south western coast. Salty, for the goddess’s sake, for the sake of this ship and the love my father had for you, please…tell me the truth.”

“That b’aint fair!” Salty’s teary eyes looked up in distress, “Usin’ the late Capn’s name like that!”

“And you think my father would want to see his friend hang?” Gretel replied in a louder voice than she intended, “Because that’s what this is about, Salty; if you betrayed us and sold us out to Aeon and his thugs, you’ll swing.” Doc looked up suddenly, but Gretel hushed him, “Well?”

Salty’s face paled, his gaze becoming distant, as though he was staring into the past. Gretel stared at him in fascination, at the stallion she’d known all her life and saw more as a beloved uncle than a simple deck hoof. He was warring with himself, wanting to talk, but trying to hold back for some reason. Why? Was it loyalty to somepony? Was he protecting them?

Salty took a deep breath and shuddered it out.

“I don’t suppose it really matters now anyways.” He began, “I’m old, Cap’n, far too old to be of any use to the old girl.” He ran his hoof down the timbering on the wall, “We’ve had many a good year together, old lass. I always thought I’d live out me days on yer deck and leave nothin’ but happy memories for ye.”

Gretel watched in silence, her heart breaking as the old fellow spoke to the ship he’d spent so much of his life on. He turned back to the Captain,

“I don’t mind if ye needs ta know, Cap’n, I guess I’m tired of hidin’ the truth.” He sighed, “I served a sky galleon before I came to the Revenge, that much be true. But ye be right, it were’nt the Hind. It were…” his voice trailed off.

“…The Ravens Eye” Gretel finished for him.

Salty nodded.

“Hang on,” Doc chipped in, “The Ravens Eye is more legend that anything. We all know the story, Salty’s told it enough times! The whole unicorn thing and…oh…”

“Yes...” Gretel said levelly, “Interesting how he knew such a story. I’ve heard it told before, but never with such detail. In fact, you could say that the only way he’d know would be if he’d actually been there.”

The brown and white stallion nodded, “Heh…ye got me Cap’n.” he took a breath, “You want to hear me tale?” he chuckled, “I’ve got the time.”

“Another time, Salty. What I really want to know is,” Goddess she didn’t want to ask, but she had to know, she had to! “did you sell us out to the Wind Wraith?”

“No!” Salty spat, “I’d never do that! And the Revenge knows it too! I love her like...,” he coughed suddenly, “Ye never betray those ye love, Cap’n. Never!”

The vehemence in his voice, the certainty…either he was a very good actor or he was telling the truth. But it didn’t explain everything. Gretel leaned towards him, her eyes sparkling in the lamplight,

“Why was there a sackload of gold and a ships token from the Wind Wraith in your hiding place?”

“I don’t know! I ain’t never seen it before!” Salty said anxiously, suddenly a lot more animated than he had been, “I’d had a few at the bar, but I don’t likes that griffin plonk, it sets me arthritis off. So I…”

“Yes?”

Salty licked his lips nervously, “I came back for me own stash.”

“Your own stash?”

“Aye…me…that is…” He trailed off.

Gretel face hoofed, “Oh goddess…” Suddenly it all made sense…

Salty looked her right in the eyes, “I’m sorry, Capn’! I tried to get me own, but the trader said he’d sold the last few. I didn’t think ye’d miss one, so I…I kinda borrowed it. I was going to replace it! Honest I was.”

Doc sat on his haunches and looked Salty in the eye,

“Brandy? You stole a bottle of brandy from the Captains cabin?”

Salty hung his head, “Aye…”

“And the money?”

“I’ve no idea, Doc,” Salty replied, I keep me money with Pickles’ girls nice and safe. As much as I trust the Revenge, after what happened on the Raven…I guess I worry too much.”

Doc lifted up the bag of coins and token, examining it closely.

“Doc?” Gretel clopped him on the shoulder, “What are you thinking?”

“Maybe nothing…” he murmured, “But…” he turned to Salty, “Is this yours?”

“The bag?” Salty asked, “Never seen it before.”

“It’s not a bag.” Doc said quietly.

“Then what is it?” Gretel pushed in for a closer look.

Doc shook his head slowly, “It’s a sock, one of the one’s used for covering leg wounds. See how it’s stretchy?”

“Would you know if you were missing one?” Gretel asked curiously.

Doc shrugged, “I keep inventory, but I haven’t kept track of it lately. Not since we got here.”

Gretel felt her hopes sinking, “Any leg injuries?”

“Plenty.” Doc said, “At least eight of the crew had these on.”

“Blast it!” Gretel snapped, “Don’t you keep records, Doc?”

“Of course!” he replied irritably, “Normally I keep them up to date, but I haven’t exactly had much time free though recently, have I? What with fighting for our lives against the Wind Wraith and treating her crew as well as our own, I have been somewhat busy…Captain.”

Gretel cringed inwardly. Even to her it had sounded like a thoughtless remark, but she’d had to ask. “Well, at least it’s something to look at.” She said calmly, “I’m going to have a look around our old friend Aeon’s cabin and see what that turns up.”

“I’ll have a look at my records, Captain. As you say…” Doc furrowed his brow in thought, “Yes…there may be something I can check.”

“Let me know as soon as you can.” Gretel turned to Salty, “For now, I’m afraid I’ll have to keep you locked up. I’m sorry Salty, but we can’t let you speak to anypony while I get to the bottom of this, alright?”

The old stallion visibly relaxed, a relieved smile crossing his face,

“Aye, Cap’n.”

Walking towards the door, Gretel called back over her shoulder,

“Think of it as punishment for stealing the Captains brandy, Mister Salty.”

******************

Gretel climbed the gangplank up to the deck of the Wind Wraith. She doubted she’d ever feel comfortable on this vessel, and it wasn’t just because of the knowledge she had of the kind of trade this vessel had been involved with. No, it was something more ‘fundamental’ than that. The red coated mare ran her hooves along the ships railing, feeling the wood beneath, but nothing more than that. The familiar warmth, the sensation of, well, it was hard to describe really, but it was a sort of ‘warmth’ that flowed through her whenever she reached out to the Revenge. She’d felt the call of her vessel since foalhood, always wanting to be there with her, on her decks with the sun high above and the wind in the sails. To do or be anything other than what she was now, the Captain of that magnificent ship, was unthinkable. Being here though, aboard the Wind Wraith, now that was a different matter altogether.

She’d notice it earlier, when she’d first stepped aboard…the nothingness; no connection, no warmth, not even a cold rejection as she’d half expected, and yet Cyclone had. The mint green mare had been hit with a rogue wave of emotion beyond anything Gretel would have expected and, sounding callous perhaps, she was damned glad it wasn’t her. The tears in Cyclone’s eyes had told her all she’d needed, or wanted to know, about the ancient ship.

Gretel walked towards the Captains cabin, nodding to the crew who’d remained behind to guard the Wind Wraith’s crew. They’d been remarkable compliant since losing their Captain. Aeon was probably the glue that had held them together, the veritable ‘lash’ that kept them in check. She was under no misapprehensions about them though, there would have been some who’d taken cruel advantage of their captives, unleashing their most savage and brutal desires with wanton abandon in the darkness of the ships hold. But they were ones who could be weeded out later, for now, they were anxious to be on their best behaviour for the prospect of being kept on the crew under a new Captain. Speaking of which, she’d have to think of somepony for that job sooner rather than later.

The dark wooden door of Aeons’s old cabin creaked open ominously, sending a shiver down Gretel’s spine. She knew it was foolish really, the ship’s Captain was dead, and what remained of him had been smeared over the side of the Revenge. Thank the Goddess the griffins had dockside facilities here. The thought of flying away with ‘that’ on the other side of the hull made her skin crawl. Fortunately, her memory of that cruel stallion only lingered on as little more than a ghost in her mind…and why was she thinking about ghosts right now?!

Giving herself and shake, Gretel lifted her lantern and made a point of trotting around the cabin to turn up the oil lanterns. Unlike the Revenge, these were more regular oil fuelled ones. At some point in the past, the original, brighter ones from the Empire had more than likely been flogged for bits. Probably ending up in Pickles’ purse, Gretel thought snidely. She still couldn’t forgive that mare, not for…

“What the…?” Gretels’ leg kicked something in the darkness.

It groaned.

A pair of large eyes, glinting in the light of the cabin’s lanterns, stared up at her, like the empty cold eyes of the dead, rotting and bloated at the bottom of the sea’s depths.

Gretel screamed.

“Captain? Captain!” Cyclone and Stock lifted her carefully, wiping her forehead, “Are you alright? Captain Gretel!”

“Oh goddesses….” Gretel murmured, her mind reeling, “Those…those eyes!”

“Ah, yes…” The Bosun began, “Sorry, Captain. Stock and I were…”

“I don’t want to know!” Gretel snapped, pushing herself up to her hooves, “What you two do in dark cabins is none of my concern! Just…” She shook her mane, “Lock the door next time will you? I near had a bloody heart attack!”

Stock turned up the lanterns, allowing a warming yellow light to flood the room,

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Captain.” He rumbled in his typically gravelly voice, “Cyclone and I were…” he looked up at his marefriend for help.

“We were, um…’talking’ with the ship, Captain.” Cyclone explained coyly.

Gretel sat up on her haunches and closed her eyes, listening for something, anything from the vessel. She shook her head,

“I just can’t feel anything from her. Maybe it’s because of my connection with the Revenge, I don’t know.” She glanced at Stock, “So, if you weren’t…you know…why were you on the floor?”

Stock scrubbed his mane in apparent embarrassment, “To see if I can feel the Wind Wraith too, Captain.” He said awkwardly, “Through Cyclone’s connection to her.”

“I’ve never heard of that!” Gretel said in surprise, “Besides, all the crew feel something from the Revenge, take Mister Haggis for example. The way she responds to him is different to any other pony who’s ever taken the helm.”

Cyclone smiled at her, “Take my hoof…”

“No!” Gretel said snatching her hoof away, “I don’t want to feel what…that is…not this ship!” She shook her mane, angry with herself. She took a calming breath, “Cyclone, this ship’s seen hell, and I don’t want to experience that and pass it on to the Revenge. I don’t know how she’ll react if I do.”

“Wind’s not like that, Captain,” Cyclone said softly, “She’s gentle and kind. I’ve been speaking to her whenever I can, and she’s shown me so many wondrous things.” She nodded to herself, “Yes, she’s been frightened, and cruelly treated too, but I showed her my heart and my love for Stock, and now she’s met him she’s really opened up. She’s still a little nervous of course, and we have a long way to go until we really understand each other, but I think I can bring her the same level of happiness and love you have with the Revenge.”

Gretel blinked, unsure what to say to that. ‘The love she had with the Revenge’? Did she really love the old ship? Yes, yes of course she did, but Cyclone had connected with the Wind Wraith so quickly and was now even ‘conversing’ with her! A thought suddenly came to her…Good Goddess, was she actually jealous? She lifted her hoof nervously,

“Just for a moment though, Cyclone; If things get a little, um, ’weird’, I’m…”

The mint green mare nodded and reached out for her,

“-Don’t worry Captain, I understand. I was nervous at first as well, but come on, let’s go meet her.”

Cyclone’s hoof held Gretel’s, her touch firm, yet soft. Despite the pegasi’s confidence and encouragement, Gretel couldn’t rid herself of the nervousness that had lodged itself in her heart. Was it because of what she knew about the Wind Wraith’s past or was it because of Aeon, her late Captain? She closed her eyes, listening to her heart slowing, the gentle breathing of the mare opposite her. Gradually, slowly, she felt her consciousness slipping, moving to ‘somewhere else’, a place of darkness but also…warmth. Cyclone’s voice echoed slightly around her in that place, full of honesty, openness,

“Wind? I’ve brought a friend to meet you.”

There was nothing. No sound, no voice no…

I know you.

Gretel started, her heart leaping in her chest. She had to focus, concentrate, but the voice had been so strong, so alien it sent a shiver through her. In that world within, she took a breath,

“Hello Wind, my name is Gretel.”

You are the one bonded with my sister. Her Captain?

“Yes, I Captain the King Sombra’s Revenge.”

There was a pause.

I do not know this name, it is not the name of my sister.

“Was that not always her name?” Gretel asked in surprise.

No. She was not always known as this.

“What was her name?”

I…cannot recall. Such a long time ago, such a very long time.

The voice that was not a voice sounded distant, sad, lonely somehow. Gretel wanted to know more but was all too aware of just how fragile the ship felt around her. Inside her heart she could ‘feel’ her too, the same way she felt the Revenge. Gretel kept her voice calm, reassuring,

“Wind, my father was the Captain of your sister and his father was before him. I love the Revenge as my family did, but sadly, I cannot talk with her as we are now.”

She is incomplete.

Gretel blinked, “Incomplete?”

My sister was launched without her heart. My Captain told me she was to have her heart brought aboard to balance her soul, but then the end came. She is incomplete.

Gretel’s mind reeled. Incomplete? What did she mean by ‘the ship’s heart’? Or the ‘ship’s soul’ for that matter. She’d always believed the Revenge had a soul, metaphorically speaking of course, but after meeting Wind, it was becoming clear the difference between the two sky galleons was like that between an adult and a newborn foal. She had to know more,

“Wind, is there some way I could give her, her heart?”

Perhaps, I do not know. The Shipwrights made me, and they made my sisters. If you find a Shipwright they may know how such a thing can be done.

There was a long pause. Gretel urgently wanted to go back to her ship, to try and speak to the Revenge, to see what she could do to help her. A rising tide of anxiety and distress began to build within her which she desperately tried to subdue. She didn’t want the Windwraith to…

She loves you.

“She…” Gretel stammered.

She loves you. I felt it within her heart when we touched. Her love for you and your bond is strong.

A sensation of warmth and joy enveloped the red mare, making her skin prickle as a rush of sheer bliss rippled through her body from her muzzle to her tail. It was…ecstasy…

“Captain,” It was Cyclone’s voice, “I see now why you are so protective of the Revenge. Wind has shown me her heart, her world, and she has accepted me as her friend.”

The feeing of happiness grew, the sensation directed towards Cyclone now, enveloping her and making her shine like a torch in the blackness. Gretel knew then, as she’d suspected from the first time she’d seen her on the main deck, that the Wind Wraith had found her new Captain. The mint green mare, the crippled and scarred pony, had joined her heart with the equally scarred sky galleon. Thank the goddess that there was room for Stock in there too! Still, there was something she wanted to ask…

“Wind, do you know anything about a member of my crew who betrayed us? A message brought to your Captain? Aeon?”

The warmth suddenly and abruptly disappeared, replaced by a cold emptiness, a sense of simmering bitterness…

Betrayer! Lies, cruelty and pain…They were the coin of that pony, the one you called ‘Aeon’. He was no Captain, I would not accept him. He had no heart.

“And the crew?”

No…some I knew, some who were kind, but many were cruel. They did things inside me…

Cyclone voice was gentle and kind, “Wind, please don’t worry yourself, I’m here for you now. We will remove the chains and make you clean and happy once again.”

Her voice had a remarkably soothing effect upon the Wind Wraith. The sense of warmth was back again, presumably an indication of the ship’s emotional state.

Yes. I feel…cleaner now…free. I long for the skies, the wind in my sails and the clouds beneath my keel.

“Wind?” Gretel said quietly, “I understand that sky galleons choose their own Captain.”

Sometimes. Many are born of the Captains line, as were mine, but the one you called Aeon struck mine down and severed the line.

“Have you chosen?” Gretel asked.

Yes.

The feeling of warmth grew, enveloping Cyclone once more. The feeling of happiness, of sheer bliss, filled Gretel with just the backwash of what was being directed at the green mare. She felt like singing, like flying away on a tide of joy…

I have my Captain. I name her…Cyclone.

Gretel felt like laughing, her heart had never felt such freedom. Her body, ethereal or not, was alive with the vibrant colours of the purest light. Around her, a song, a song of joy and love, of a heart so pure and overflowing with the essence of the world it filled her eyes with tears that flowed like rivers.

And then, like the dawn breaking over the horizon, it ended…

The cabin’s interior was back. Gretel shook her mane and rose, rather unsteadily, over to the worried looking Cyclone,

“She has her Captain, Cyclone, and you have your ship.” Gretel leaned forward and kissed her friend on the forehead, “And your ships master,” she gave Stock a wink, “big guy.”

Cyclone stood up suddenly, “Wait! Captain, Gretel, I…I don’t want to leave the Revenge! She’s my home, and…”

“You have a new home now,” Gretel said with a tinge of sadness, “A new place for you and Stock, and home for any…” she raised an eyebrow, “shall we say, ‘new additions’?”

Stock turned beet red, “I…um, feel bad about this, Captain. You need us.”

“I’m not losing you,” the red mare chuckled, “you’re part of the fleet now, the Amethyst Fleet.” A shudder ran through the ship, one of happy expectation. Even Gretel, without Cyclone’s connection, recognised that feeling, “I think somepony else agrees too, well, some ‘ship’ anyway.”

The two ponies before her smiled at each other coyly. They didn’t seem totally convinced, but with time, they would come to understand their new home and all her quirks. The saddest part though, was that they would indeed be away from her ship and that meant she’d see less of them. Inside, she felt a tinge of jealously for the Wind Wraith, but also…love. Someday, she’d like Chalky to speak to the ship, her ship, and feel what she felt here tonight. With a soft sigh, she rose to her hooves and gave herself a shake.

“You know, there was something I came here to do.” Gretel said with a snort, “So, you two can give me a hoof. Come on, chop chop!”

Stock jumped up, helping Cyclone to her hooves, “Orders Captain?”

“I’m looking for a message, a small scroll,” Gretel stood up on her hind legs using her forehooves to indicate the size, “about this long. Its probably long gone, but judging by the state of this cabin, I was rather hoping Aeon would have just chucked it in a pile.”

“No harm in looking,” Cyclone said, “this place looked like animals lived in it. Believe it or not, this is tidy compared to what it was.”

“Somehow,” Gretel replied rolling her eyes, “I’m not surprised.”

Between them, they began their search, lifting what looked like years of accumulated junk, rubbish and fossilised remains of what had probably once been dinner. It was disgusting, and more than one unidentifiable ‘thing’ found its way out of the large windows before they were sick.

From the other side of the room, Stock cleared his throat, “Ah…er, Captain?”

Gretel’s ears pricked up, “What? Found something?” she asked hopefully.

“It wasn’t this was it?” Stock lifted up the burnt remains of a small scroll that stuck out of the corner of a large ashtray filled with cigar butts.

“Bring a lantern over” The Captain said waving a hoof.

Cyclone quickly appeared, carrying one of the cabin’s oil lamps with her while Gretel held up the burnt piece of paper. It looked like Aeon had been using it as a taper to light his cigars, but there were some words left that were still visible, including partial co-ordinates.

“That’s it!” Gretel cried excitedly.

“What? I don’t understand.” Cyclone said moving closer, “What’s it mean?”

“It means, my dear Captain, that I’m going to get to the bottom of something, and sooner rather than later to boot.” Gretel raised an eyebrow, “Tomorrow afternoon in fact. For now, you two carry on doing whatever it is you two do when I’m not around.” She trotted for the door, “Nighty night!”

Cyclone watched the Captain disappear with a mischievous grin on her face and shook her head,

“I can’t believe her sometimes”

“Nope.” Stock said slowly, “She’s quite something, eh, Captain.”

“Aye…” Cyclone said distantly. With a sudden jump, she lunged at the brown stallion, bearing him to the ground, “But first, Master Stock,” her eyes twinkled in the lamplight, “You have your new Captains orders to fulfil.” She grabbed his muzzle and kissed him, “And I expect them to be followed…to the letter”.

Stock smiled, reaching up to embrace his beloved mare,

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

*************************

“May the goddess bless ye, Cap’n!” Salty laughed, “I knew ye’d see old Salty were’nt lyin’!” The brown and white stallion all but bounced out of the brig, his ears pert and tail swishing happily.

“Oh, and Salty, catch!” Gretel tossed him a bottle of brandy, “It’s the good stuff, not that crap you’ve been swigging. Take it as an apology for doubting you.”

It was expensive, and the last full bottle she had. One she’d kept for emergencies.

Salty looked like he was going to cry, “Oh…Cap’n…I’ll treasure this, treasure it! Nopony’ll ever know, I swears I won’t tell ‘em.”

“No!” Gretel said urgently, “Good goddess, Salty, they’re your crewmates! You share that with them and you have a bloody good night with them. Go on, go and catch up with them now.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n!”

The stallion bounced out of the brig and up the steps to the deck. Gretel watched him go and shook her head,

“He’s some pony all right.”

Doc raised an eyebrow, “I’ll say. I hope you know what you’re doing, Gretel.”

“Don’t you believe in anything Doc?” She asked.

“What, the goddesses?” Doc raised an eyebrow, “You think we’re going to have some sort of divine intervention?”

“No.” Gretel shook her head, “I mean ‘belief’ itself.” She grinned, “It’s all about belief.”

Doc shook his head, “Well, I guess we’ll see tomorrow afternoon then.”

“Aye. Goodnight Doc.”

“Night, Captain.”

*************************

The ship’s bell sounded, loud and clear in the midday sunshine. The Revenge stirred at anchor, a shiver running through her sails. She knew something was happening, the tension and curiosity of the bleary eyed and haggard looking crew on deck intrigued her. Upon the quarterdeck, her Captain stood beside her officers and addressed them all,

“All of you know that we were ambushed by that bilge rat Aeon, a despicable act which, by your courage and actions, helped us gain a new addition to our happy family.”

Gretel held her foreleg out, indicating the dark shape of the ship in the next dock. The crew raised a cheer, many of them patting each other and exchanging smiles and jokes.

“What you are probably wondering though, like me, was how they knew we were coming.” Gretel continued.

A chorus of muttering broke out which died away as the Captain waved her hooves for quiet,

“I know what you were thinking, that Hay Wain set us up, right?”

There was a general round of ‘Aye’s’ and nodding.

“No!” Gretel called out over the hubbub, “I have here a message sent to the Wind Wraith’s ‘former’ Captain,” She could’nt help but grin at that last part, “that came from this…very…ship.”

There was a pause, and then pandemonium broke out. The crew all started shouting at once, pushing each other and pointing, the general consensus it appeared, much to Gretel’s relief, was that nopony would have even contemplated such a traitorous act. They loved their ship, and their Captain. She smiled, she’d been worried that maybe, just maybe, she’d lost their trust.

“I’m please to say, that our new friend, Mister Strata here, will be able to help shed some light on this matter.” She turned to the indigo unicorn, “Mister Strata…?”

“Oh! Yes, um…thank you, Captain…” Strata trotted up to the balustrade and began fumbling in his pack for his notepad.

“I hope you’re not thinking about using magic, Mister Strata?” Gretel smiled ominously.

“Um, NO!” the indigo stallion choked, “Not at all!” he turned to the assembled crew, “Er, Captain Gretel has asked me to inspect this scroll. It’s quite a simple job really, by tracing the elemental divination currents, an invection of the primary…”

“-To the point, Mister Strata?”

“Oh! Sorry, Captain, yes…” Strata gave himself a shake, “What I mean to say, is that I’ll be able to tell who wrote this using…um…magic.”

“But NOT on my ship!” Gretel chipped in loudly.

That raised another chuckle from the crew.

“Of course not, no” Strata replied waving a hoof, “I’ve asked the griffins and they’re quite happy for me to use their facilities.”

The crew were all mumbling to themselves when the Captain leaned over the balustrade once more,

“What hurts me, and hurts this ship, as well as everypony aboard her, is that one of us has written this…” she held up the scroll, “And it’s only thanks to this pony,” she pointed to the embarrassed Strata, “that we will be able to unveil who it is.” Gretel hung her head down and sighed, “I am hoping that by this evening, the guilty party will have given themselves up and face me with what they have done. If not, we will find out anyway through Mister Strata’s magic and I assure you…I will NOT be lenient.” She banged her hoof, “Whoever you are, you have until two bells of the dog watch to see me in my cabin.”

Gretel nodded to Stock, “Dismiss them, Master Stock.”

“Aye, Captain.” He turned back to the crew, “You heard the Captain, get back to work boys and girls.”

There was definitely an undercurrent now. The loud and boisterous partying of the crew from the previous evening had been replaced with the very sobering prospect of having one of their number identified at a traitor. Gretel shook her head. This was painful and upsetting, as much for the crew as it was for her. They were all very close knit, as tended to happen onboard a ship, but this had to be done. Who knew what else such a pony would be capable of if left to go unchecked? Greed, she knew all too well, begot yet more greed.

Retiring to her cabin, Gretel settled in for a long wait. It was highly unlikely the culprit would own up, although there was still that slimmest of chances that they would. She groaned and leaned back in her chair, she didn’t need all this. Her mind began to drift back to her time with Chalk and the warmth of his coat against hers. His grooming had been something truly wonderful, and since he’d gone, she’d left it to go to rack and ruin. Lifting the tangled mess in her hoof, she sighed. Doing it yourself just didn’t feel the same.

Gretel closed her eyes and relaxed in the dull sunlight that drifted through her windows. Letting her mind open up to the Revenge, she listened to her, sensing her contentment as she dozed gently, rocking at her anchor. Maybe…maybe on day Gretel would find this ‘heart’ of the ship, but until then, it was so peaceful here, so quiet…

A loud banging brought her round with a start,

“Captain?”

She looked up as Doc opened the door,

“It’s time.”

Gretel glanced at the clock on the wall as the sound of the ship’s bell sounded. Dear Goddess, was it five o’clock already? She felt her heart sink slightly. So, they hadn’t had the balls to own up, eh? No, she’d known it all along. For this offence, for what they’d done, the crew would demand more than a flogging. She collected her sword and hat,

“Come on then Doc, let’s get this over with.”

*******************

Strata sat behind the small wooden desk and chewed the end of his quill thoughtfully. This wasn’t going quite as well as he’d thought. Of course, it was all that silly mare’s fault! Fancy giving him such a task to do when he was in the middle of important research! After all these years of painstaking, albeit enjoyable, delving into the fascinating world of the ancients, here was being tasked to perform something that was akin to a circus trick. What did she think he was? He was unicorn, not a trained seal! He leaned back and clopped his hooves together,

“Where’s me fish?” he muttered angrily to himself.

Still, this wasn’t proving to be as easy as he’d led the Captain to believe. The damage to the scroll was extensive and there was very little…oh! Hello, what was this? His magic tingled as it found what he was looking for - a residual ‘presence’ a kind of maghical hoofprint left by whoever had held the paper. There was Aeon’s, he recognised that one, but there was one other…yes, yes! That was it! He closed his eyes and concentrated, weaving the patterns together and bringing the image together in his mind…a little more and he’d have it…

The image of a brown stallion…no…a mare, yes…not quite brown…

“You can stop that now, unicorn.”

There was a faint click beside Strata’s head and he froze, not daring to move. The voice spoke again,

“I’m sorry for this…”

Strata jumped at the loud thump and the sound of a body crashing to the floor. It was different voice now,

“So am I…”

A red mare walked in, stepping over the crumpled form of a caramel coated mare. The Captain lowered the cudgel and shook her head sadly,

“Oh, Butters…why?”

“C…Captain!” Strata squeaked, “You…you set this up?! She was going to shoot me!”

Gretel shrugged, “Aye, she was. But I take it you’re still in one piece then, Mister Strata?”

Patting himself down, the indigo stallion nodded in relief, “I am!”

“Jolly good.” Gretel turned back to her downed crewpony, “Put that magic of yours to good use and help me with her, will you?”

Back at the Revenge, the crew had gathered once again, waiting unbidden for the Captains return. To hell with orders, this was something personal. This had been an attack on the ship, risking all of their lives. It was something that no sailor would ever tolerate and this had pushed them all to the brink of self control. Foremost amongst them was Mister Haggis and his friend and co-helmspony, the old stallion, Salty. They watched in deadly silence as the caramel coated mare walked up the gangplank in chains to stand before them. Her head hung down, her biscuit coloured mane hanging limp down her neck. She looked…defeated.

A table had been erected, with Master Stock, Gretel and Cyclone sitting in silence until quiet fell amongst the crew. Lanterns had been brought up on deck, casting shadows across the assembled ponies. It was strange to do something like this at night, but with the current mood of the crew, it was unlikely Butters would have still been alive come the morning. Stock was the first to stand,

“Palmyra Butters, you are charged with betraying this ship and all aboard her to a hostile vessel, and the attempted murder of a crewmate. You are permitted by ships articles to have a pony act on your behalf. Do wish to nominate one, or represent yourself?”

The mare shook her head slowly.

Doc stepped up to her, “Butters, we’ve served together for years on this ship. Will you let me speak in your defence?”

She nodded slowly.

Doc bobbed his head to the Captain, “If it pleases you Captain.”

Gretel nodded as Stock continued,

“How do you plead to these charges?”

Butters mumbled something to the Doc. He whispered back to her and then addressed the Captain,

“Guilty on all except the latter charge, Captain.”

The crew began to mumble, the sound reverberating through the deck and making Gretel’s mane shiver as she rose to her hooves and nodded to Stock,

“Butters, I will present to you the evidence as found so that all present may know that these proceedings are being conducted fairly and honestly.” She produced a notebook, “Master Stock, if I may?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Hay Wain’s promise of payment,” Gretel held up the said scroll, “confirmed to be genuine by the griffins here. At first I asked myself whether Hay Wain had set us up, and I’m sure some of the crew here thought that too.”

There was a lot of nodding going on in the assembled crew.

“However,” Gretel continued, “I had to ask why he would do that. Why risk his reputation, and for what? What had he to gain by it? A share in the sale of the Revenge if she was captured by the Wind Wraith? No, it didn’t make sense to me. Next, I had to ask myself if the griffins here on the island had some involvement, but once again, I discounted that. If they had been complicit, it made no sense for Aeon to kidnap Lord Rapere’s daughter.”

“Second exhibit.” Gretel held up the small burnt scroll, “This scroll bears the co-ordinates of this island. It’s badly damaged but there’s enough of the message left to show that somepony was telling the Wind Wraith where to find us. Considering the time it would take for such a message to travel from Spurs Anvil to the Wind Wraith, it could only have been done by a fast pegasus, and Spurs Anvil does indeed have a Pegasus courier post. If need be, I’m certain a check on this could be made.” She took a sip of water, “Next, I spoke to our old friend, Mister Impulse, former Ships Master of the Wind Wraith who told me of the existence of this scroll. It was later found in the late Captain Aeon’s cabin. I have two witnesses who can testify to this effect.”

Gretel took a breath, “Third exhibit.” She held up a long brown tube like thing, “A hoof sock, used for protection of injured legs and hooves. All new ones are accounted for, but this is an old one, thrown out, or so Doc believed, by a pony helping to clear out old items some time ago. This was used to try and frame Mister Salty for the crime by stuffing it full of money and a pass for the Wind Wraith, then placing it in Mister Salty’s hiding place.” She turned to Butters, “A place you knew he was hiding the bottle of brandy he’d stolen from my cabin.”

Salty cringed back, while Mister Haggis rolled his eyes in exasperation. Gretel had the feeling Mister Haggis knew a lot more about his friends drinking habits than he’d let on.

“I believe you knew full well,” Gretel continued, “that we would be searching the crews’ quarters and planted this for us to find.” She held up the silver coin with a picture of the Wind Wraith stamped into it, “I believe this is your pass, Butters?”

Butters nodded.

“Finally, when you found out that Mister Strata was going to use magic to reveal the culprit, you realised the game was up and attempted to shoot Mister Strata to silence him.”

Butters muttered something to Doc.

“If it pleases you, Captain?”

Gretel nodded and then sat down,

“Please continue, Doctor”, Stock said, holding out his hoof.

Doc went to speak but Butters suddenly moved forward, pushing him out of the way,

“You want to know why, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes, all of you!” Butters’ brown eyes flashed, “For money…that’s right, it was all for bits! A share in the prize money, enough for me to get off this stinking flea pit and have a life, a proper life, on shore where I could life a comfortable life without living like a damned rat in a cage!”

The crew looked on in shock, but slowly, that was beginning to change to one of anger. Cyclone stepped forward, shaking her head at them. If nopony else, they would take note of her. Butters continued,

“Yes, I was a member of the Wind Wraith’s crew. I was told to infiltrate the Revenge and pass on information to Aeon about your whereabouts and movements so he could track you down. But over time, I began to fall under the influence of this blasted tub and I thought, actually thought, that I was happy here! What a bloody fool I was! And then…then, my eyes were opened.” She glared at Gretel, “Do you know how, Captain? By YOU! You and that lousy stinking white unicorn! We all knew you were banging the bloody thing like there was no tomorrow, throwing your own precious ships rules out with the bilge water! And then…then, you had the audacity to have your own Bosun flogged for doing the right thing and getting rid of that damned creature.” She sneered, addressing the crew, “But wait…what happened next? That’s right! She brings aboard ANOTHER UNICORN!” Butters shook her head, “Can’t you see, Captain, its not me, you’re destroying your own ship, your own crew…” She held out a hoof, pointing at Strata, “There, there stands your real enemy, the horned freak himself!”

Strata turned white in shock as the crew began to shout and roar angrily. This looked like it was going to turn very ugly, very fast, but thank the goddess that Cyclone acted first. In a flurry of movement, she pulled off her coat, revealing her broken and useless wings,

“SILENCE!” she bellowed, “The Captain is not on trial here! If anypony had a grievance with her, it would be me! But I was wrong. I took my punishment and can now look any one of you in the face knowing that I did my duty to you, my Captain and my ship. Did the Captain bring a unicorn aboard? Yes. Did any of you object? NO! You all sat around drinking with him! You could have spoken to the Captain, as I could have, but instead you accepted him as one of your own. Butters and I could have spoken out, we could have said something, but we didn’t. The Captain has told all of us that she is not above the law on this vessel. Maybe all of us should remember that, that we are all brothers and sisters. We are all family.”

Silence fell.

Butters lifted her head, “So why didn’t you say something, Bosun?” she shook her head slowly, “I’ll tell you why, because you were frightened of how she would react! I know I was, that’s why I did it. ‘My door is always open’, what a load of dung! She was bedding the bloody thing; do you think she would have listened?”

Gretel slammed her hoof on the table, her face glowing scarlet, “You didn’t give me a chance, Butters, did you? But even if you were right, even if I didn’t listen to you, do you think that excuses selling out your crewmates, the ship, setting up Salty to take the fall for you and attempted murder?”

“It’s not murder if it’s a unicorn!” Butters yelled suddenly, stepping forward angrily, “They’re all the same! It’s not natural to use magic, that’s the domain of the princesses and the gods. Nopony should be able to use that! They’re freaks of nature! They’re evil!”

One of the crew suddenly spoke up, “My cousins a unicorn, she makes cakes for market. She’s not evil.”

“Does she make good cakes?” Somepony called out.

“Nah, they taste like crap.”

“Maybe she is evil then!”

Laughing suddenly broke out amongst the crew.

“You’re not listening!” Butters shrieked, “Look at it! It looks like us, but it’s not one of us! It’s a monster!”

Without speaking, and much to the surprise of the Captain, Strata walked up to Butters, keeping his face neutral. The caramel mare suddenly backed away from him in fear.

“Touch it.” He said quietly.

Butters’ eyes went wide, “Wh…What?!”

“Touch my horn.”

Salty sniggered, setting off Haggis next to him. In seconds, the deck was full of laughing equines as an equally grinning Stock, hammered on the table to try and restore order. Only Butters was silent, staring in terror at the unicorn before her. She glanced at Doc, then Gretel, Stock and back to Doc who nodded to her,

“It doesn’t hurt, go ahead.”

Cyclone managed to shush the crew who were now pressing in, eager to see what would happen next. Everypony held their breath except Butters whose chest was rising and falling as if she were on the verge of abject panic. Gretel could feel her own heart beginning to pound as the frightened mare before her slowly and shakily reached out her hoof and, inch by painful inch, lifted it higher and higher. Butters was shaking like a leaf as Strata, leaning forward to help her, let her hoof touch his horn. She opened an eye gradually, gasping in shock as the ethereal glow of magic grew, flowing around Strata’s spiral horn, around her hoof, and travelled up her leg. The caramel coated mare suddenly groaned loudly, her eyes rolling up into her head as she quivered. Gretel stared in amazement, but not at the magic, but…her face!

Butters’ gasps and moans sounded across the deck as her chest rose and fell faster and faster, her cheeks blushing bright red. With a sudden twitch and a squeal, her hind legs gave way and she collapsed to the deck, writhing, drool pouring from her muzzle. Doc looked on in horror,

“Strata…oh Goddesses, what have you done to her?”

“Oh, nothing” The indigo unicorn said nonchalantly, “Not all my books are about facts and figures you know.”

Gretel got up and walked over to the unicorn,

“You and I are going to have a little talk later, Mister Strata. Yes?”

Strata gave a tiny squeak and jumped back, nodding furiously. Gretel shook her head in submission. There was something strange about that stallion…

Stock shouted for order as the crew began chattering loudly all at once, some of them casting strange looks at Strata and then glancing back to a still twitching Butters. They weren’t looks of fear, as he may have expected, but ones of…dear Goddesses, was that one…was she licking her lips?!

Stock hammered on the table top, clearing his throat, “Order! Order! Please, everypony, can we have some semblance of order for ships court proceedings?” The brown stallion stood as every eye, except the shaking Butters who was being helped to her hooves by Doc, turned to him. “Butters, by your own admission, you are guilty of the charges.” He addressed Doc, “Does the defendant have anything else to say in her defense?”

Doc spoke quietly to the mare, nodding occasionally, then addressed Stock,

“Ahem…the defendant states that she was wrong and it was all a misunderstanding. She, er, she has changed her mind about unicorns…apparently.”

More chuckling broke out from the crew as Stock stood,

“Butters, the court recognises that you did what you did partly for personal profit, but also out of fear of the unknown. It may go some way to explain your actions, but does not excuse what you did. You spied for a hostile vessel, endangered this crew, this ship, tried to frame a crewmate for a crime he did not commit, and attempted to murder…Strata.”

Butters hung her head, but still had the ghost of a smile on her face.

Stock turned to Gretel, “Captain?”

Gretel stood, “Stallions and Mares of the Revenge. You must know that by ships regulations, the sentence for crimes of this nature is death by hanging.”

Suddenly, the hilarity of the moment changed, the ponies before her falling silent.

“However, considering all of the aforementioned evidence, I have decided to ask you, the crew what you would do with her. Therefore, I will leave you together to consider this and…”

“Captain?”

Gretel looked round at the brown and white stallion with the silver mane,

“May I speak?”

She nodded, “Aye, Salty.”

“I…I think I speak for all me crewmates, when I says none us wants the girl ta be hanged, it b’aint right. Not for her, nor the Revenge.” Salty began as there was a chorus of agreement behind him, “I don’t thinks she’s rightly happy ‘ere, so, maybe we could just, y’know sends ‘er on ‘er way.”

“Send her on her way?” Gretel echoed.

“Aye.”

“What, like just, let her go?”

“Aye”

The Captain addressed the crew, “Anypony else want to have their say?”

There was silence. Gretel nodded slowly, looking to her officers. All of them had the same expression - they agreed with the old hoof in this. The Captain laughed and shook her head,

“What about you, Butters?”

“M…Me…?” the mare stammered, “I…I want to go home…”

“Well,” Gretel smiled, “I guess that concludes these proceedings. Mister Haggis, find out where Miss Butters lives and when we leave dock, we’ll take her home. As for the rest of you scurvy dogs, get your lazy hides back to work or I’ll flog the bloody lot of you!”

The crew began cheering and hurried off to work, with Cyclone and Stock barking orders and getting the vessel ready for the night. Maybe, Gretel noted sadly, for the last time. She’d have to arrange for new officers and sort out the wheat from the chaff with the Wind Wraith’s crew. Good Goddess, the work was never ending!

“A favourable end, Captain?” Doc asked, walking up beside her.

Gretel shook her head, “I can’t think of a better one right now, Doc, can you?”

“No,” Doc shook his head, “no I can’t.”

Gretel began walking back to her cabin, “I didn’t want to see her hang, Doc, and I sure as hell didn’t want the Revenge to experience that either. There’s enough horror in this world without adding to it.”

“And Strata?” he asked.

“Send him to see me. I want a talk with him.” Gretel caught the look he gave her and bopped him on the nose, “And stop worrying! You’re going to go grey doing that all the time.”

Doc huffed and set off to find his friend.

Gretel didn’t have to wait long before the indigo stallion knocked on the door to her cabin. With a bow, he entered and closed the door behind himself.

The Captain waved a hoof, “Take a seat Mister Strata.”

Trotting over to the drinks rack, Gretel instinctively reached for the green glass bottle and paused, shaking her head to herself. No, this time she’d use the decent brandy, not like she had much left after giving Salty a whole bottle…A whole bottle! Mind you, if the old soak hadn’t blabbered to everypony in the bar about them ‘getting close’ to the ‘real culprit’ their little charade with Strata may not have worked out as well as it did. Pouring out two glasses, she passed one to the unusually calm unicorn,

“You’re a pony of many surprises, Strata” Gretel said sitting back in her own chair, “That little spectacle with Butters was quite something.”

He nodded.

“You used magic though, didn’t you.” Gretel said matter of factly.

Again, he nodded.

“No excuse?”

Strata smiled, “No, only that it got results. I’ve had to deal with prejudiced ponies before. Spurs Anvil was full of them.”

He was right there. The port tended to be predominantly populated by earth ponies, and not even pegasi frequented them that much due to…well, tradition probably. Cyclone was a pegasus, but she’d been welcomed aboard with her broken wings as a sort of ‘honorary’ earth pony. Pickles lived at Spurs Anvil and she was a unicorn and…well, she ran an establishment that was more ‘fluid’ in who it dealt with. There were numerous griffins of course, but they tended to be discounted as ‘non-ponies’ and more of a background noise than actual living beings. The more Gretel thought about it all, the more ridiculous it sounded even to her. She eyed the indigo pony up and down. He really was an enigma this fellow,

“You know I could have you flogged then thrown off the ship, don’t you.”

Strata shrugged, “I couldn’t stop you Captain.”

“Who are you?” She asked inquisitively, “Really. I mean, a unicorn living in a port that nopony seems to realise is there? You just ‘happen’ to come across the only other unicorn in the whole of Spurs Anvil and help him on his way with the aid of a few priceless antiques. I don’t believe for a minute, Mister Strata, if that is indeed your real name, that you are just a simple scholar.”

Strata smiled, his eyes catching the light making them sparkle like gems,

“I’m just a traveller, Captain, no more than that. Please, be assured that I haven’t lied to you, nor anypony for that matter.”

Gretel shook her head, “No, you haven’t lied, I can see that.” She paused, “But I don’t believe you’ve exactly told me everything either.”

“Don’t you have secrets, Captain?” Strata asked, “One’s you’d not share even with the one you love?”

“That’s none of your…” She took a breath, “Look, just…promise me something, Strata.”

“Certainly Captain.”

She looked down at her brandy, turning the glass slowly with her hoof,

“Don’t hurt Doc…please.”

Strata shook his head with a distant smile, “You don’t need to worry. I’d never hurt him.”

“Will you be staying aboard?” Gretel asked.

“For now, if that’s permissible,” the unicorn replied calmly, “until I have to return home.”

“Spurs Anvil?”

Strata nodded happily, “Oh, yes! My life’s work’s there.”

“And nopony knows its there?”

He grinned, giving the Captain a wink, “Magic.”

“Speaking of which, you know something about this whole ‘magic on ships’ thing, don’t you.” Gretel took a mouthful of her brandy and topped up the glass.

“Mmhmm,” Strata sighed, “It’s like many of the old stories: the fables, myths and legends. All of them have some grain of truth in them somewhere, no matter how insignificant. The Crystal Empire itself is believed by many to be no more than a foals fairy story. You and I are sitting inside evidence of its existence right now, but in one hundred years, a thousand years, will ponies still believe such a place existed?” He laughed and took a sip of brandy, “No, I doubt it. As for your ‘magic on ships’ dilemma, I ask you this: Did the ship sink because Chalky was on board? Has it sunk because I’m here? The answer is clearly no.” He raised an eyebrow, “And yet, this story exists, why? The answer is closer than you think.”

“Can we stop being cryptic please, and get to the point?” Gretel sighed, “The whole ‘mystical power of the unicorn’ thing is getting very old, very fast.

Strata chuckled, “Aw! I was enjoying myself there!”

“Well don’t!” The Captain snapped, “Or I really will chuck you over the side.”

Strata raised a hoof, “Alright! I’m sorry.” He took a breath and then fixed her with his big eyes, “Ask Salty, when the crew are together tonight. Ask him for the true story of the Ravens Eye. You’ll know then.”

Gretel groaned and shook her head, “You can’t help it can you? What is it, some sort of unicorn thing?”

“Meh, maybe…” Strata laughed, “It pays the rent.”

Gretel clucked her tongue, “One more thing, what do you know about the ship’s heart?”

“Oh! A fascinating story!”

“Please,” Gretel held up a hoof, “just…to the point, yes?”

“Fine…” Strata rolled his eyes, “Doc listens to my stories…” he muttered quietly.

“What’s that?” Gretel fixed him with a stare.

“Nothing! Just thinking out loud, getting my facts in order, you know the drill!” Strata coughed nervously, “Right, the ship’s heart…” he scratched his chin, “I’m working from memory here, but I can tell you this much. The ship’s heart is part of who she is, along with her soul. The heart was, from what I can decipher, a type of crystal, imbued with the life force of a willing donor that would live, effectively, forever as the ‘heart of the ship’.” He gave his muzzle a scratch as he thought, “Hmm, yes, the er, the ‘soul’ for want of a better word, is what happens over time, when the ship absorbs the memories and experiences of the Captain and crew. Rather like you and I developing our own personality as we grow.”

“So what would happen if a ship had no heart?” Gretel asked.

“I can’t imagine why it wouldn’t” Strata replied curiously.

Gretel leaned her chin on her forehooves, “Humour me.”

Strata shrugged, “Who can say. I’d imagine the ship would be like a mute, able to experience and feel, but not truly able to communicate with their Captain. That’s my best guess based on what I’ve read.”

“Would it be possible to find one of the crystals, or make one?” Gretel asked.

Strata shook his head, “Not unless you have some way to bring back the Empire. It was the whole ‘heart’ thing that brought it down in the first place.”

The Captain furrowed her brow, “What? What do you mean?”

“The Empire was under attack,” Strata explained, “besieged by forces that were slowly but surely forcing them back. The Amethyst Fleet was their hope of salvation: able fly high, move quickly and strike the enemy where they least expected it. The problem was…the ‘heart of the ship’.”

“And that was?”

Strata lowered his voice to a near whisper,

“Living ponies.”

Gretel felt suddenly sick, “You can’t mean…the crystal was made through…”

“Sacrifice?” Strata shrugged, but he was clearly enjoying telling the story despite Gretel’s horror at what she was hearing, “Not at first, no. It was considered an honour to be selected and then gifted eternal life. But later, as war began to consume them, attitudes changed and the ponies started to turn against their rulers who were failing to protect them from the encroaching darkness.” Strata’s face darkened, “The Shipwrights and even the King himself began taking ponies against their will, forcing them to…”

“Enough!” Gretel coughed, “By the Goddess, Strata…enough.” She took a swig of her brandy and got to her hooves, “I can’t imagine anything so…so evil.”

“And so our story ends.” Strata said rising to his hooves, “You know the rest.”

“That Celestia and Luna fought the King and banished the Empire?” Gretel muttered.

Strata shrugged, “I believe that is the simplified version, yes.”

“There’s more?”

The enigmatic unicorn chuckled, “There’s always more! The victors write the history books, Captain, and you will only ever learn what they want you to know. Should you wish to know the truth, the nearest you will get to it is speaking to somepony who was actually there and experienced it first hoof.” He shrugged, “And even then, you will still get bias…ah, the never ending search for truth.”

“A truth we will never know.” Gretel sighed.

“Perhaps,” Strata said chuckling, “but the search goes on! Now, forgive me Captain, but unicorns have weak bladders you know, not like you big strong earthy lot!”

He was still chuckling when he left. The Captain shook her head in dismay and returned to her chair. What a peculiar creature he was…

**************************

Evening came all too early and the crew were living it up below decks, leaving only a small contingent on the deck as watch. Lord Rapere had sent word that he had a consignment of the ‘most exquisite rugs and tapestries’ that had been delivered and would pay the Captain ‘most handsomely’ to deliver them. The message was clear…it was time to leave. Still, all repairs had been completed, the Wind Wraith smelled…better…and the crew selections had been completed, with a little help from Doc and the Wind Wraith herself. Now that was interesting!

The forward end however, as a result of the increased number of ponies, was absolutely heaving with happy revellers and the poor bar staff had been forced to enlist help to keep the alcohol flowing. At the centre of it all was a whirling, dancing, attempt at something that resembled a jig; although in actual fact it was more a group of alcohol soaked ponies throwing themselves in random directions while the ‘band’ creaked and groaned out the most dreadful attempt at music Gretel had ever heard.

“Evenin’, Cap’n!” Salty shouted, all but collapsing into her, “What can old Salty get yer?”

“Rum for a change,” Gretel replied loudly over the din, “and wheat bears for everypony!”

A rousing blast of cheers echoed around the room,

“Three cheers for Cap’n Gretel and the Amethyst Fleet!”

Gretel smiled broadly as the crew cheered her. Moving to the centre of the mass, she stood on her hind legs and waved her forelegs for quiet,

“Ladies and Gentlecolts…” That got a laugh, “Boys and girls, we’ve sailed many a fine sky together, weathered many a storm…” More cheering, “but there is one pony here, who weathered them all…” She held out a hoof, “SALTY!”

The old sailor was pushed into the middle of the mass and smiled broadly.

“Tonight,” Gretel announced, “I want to celebrate the bringing together of two sky galleons, the first time since the Crystal Empire vanished into the beyond. And to help us celebrate, I want to hear the story of another galleon, the last voyage of the Ravens Eye!”

Some cheered, but others gave a loud groan at the prospect of yet another rendition.

“Wait, Wait!” Gretel laughed, “This time, the story will be different.” Salty’s eyes went wide as his Captain smiled at him, “To help welcome Mister Strata to our happy band, this time, I want to know what really happened and what a unicorn had to do with the loss of such a magnificent vessel.”

Salty looked like he’d seen a ghost, all the colour draining from his face.

Gretel leaned over to him, whispering, “Two bottles of the best Yak liquor”.

“A crate!” he squeaked.

“Done!” Gretel clopped him on the shoulder conspiratorially, “But the truth, Salty. Any ‘tall tales’ and the unicorn over there will know. Understand?”

Strata gave a wave from the other side of the room.

Salty gulped, “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

“Oh!” Gretel shouted, “I nearly forgot! Free bar tonight, but only if you promise to keep quiet during the tale. Agreed?”

“Aye…”

Gretel shook her head, “I didn’t hear you…AGREED?”

“AYE!”

Drinks liberally distributed and the maybe not so willing audience sitting watching the definitely not so willing story teller, Gretel settled down to listen as Salty began…

Chapter Thirty - Out of the Frying Pan

CHAPTER THIRTY

OUT OF THE FRYING PAN

The forest was bitterly cold at night, but being this close to what had once been the main enemy lines, Dray’s party had limited themselves to travelling from sundown to dawn to reduce their chances of being detected. Even so, in the thick forest they’d still chanced upon the occasional enemy patrol, enagaging them only if there had been no choice. They’d been fast, brutal, and bloody affairs, their enemy every bit as skilled and strong as they’d ever been. What was really troubling Dray however, were the reports he’d been receiving about the war ‘being over’. How could that be? Although his officers had been dismissed by Ochre, the army itself had still been in the field and in a damned good position to defend the capital. What the hell was happening out there?

Wild walked up to him, shaking her head sadly. She looked tired. They all did. Sleeping in the open with no fires and travelling only at night was rough on hardened soldiers at the best of times, let alone at this time of year. Spirits were high though, and supplies kept coming in, but that in itself was causing problems. Ponies in the outlying villages were beginning to hear about a ‘resistance’ movement and some were actively looking to join. Others, soldiers who’d been out in some of the more remote locations, had either simply gone home or wandered off in small bands like lost souls. Whenever Dray’s party was chanced upon by these groups, they’d had to send them on their way with a heavy heart. Nopony could know what they were doing out here and the more of them there were, the more likely it was they were going to be caught.

Dray felt Wild push into him for warmth, her shivering all he needed to know about her condition - she was freezing cold. He flicked his long cloak out and around her, pulling the red mare into him to share their heat. With no fires to warm them, they’d resorted to using fire crystals - useful things in a pinch, and issued to troops in field kits for emergency warmth and food pack heating. They were pretty good, provided you sat close to them, but with winter approaching the ground itself was your enemy, sucking the heat from your body like a sponge and leaving you with the very real risk of hypothermia.

“D…Dray” Wild chattered, “I’m…s…so…c…cold.”

The Colonel passed a thermos to the Major, “Here Heather, get this down you, its soup.”

She said nothing, but nodded her thanks and removed the lid. The steam was like a geyser in the cold woods, the white clouds reminiscent of the stories of ‘genies’ Dray had heard from traders returning from the griffin kingdom. The effect on the Major was remarkable. In short order, the large mare ceased shaking, at least as badly as she had been, and snuggled into him,

“How did you manage to get soup?” she asked.

“They’ve set up a shelter for a low fire. We decided to risk it. We needed hot food or we could die out here.” Dray replied.

“Always the optimist…” Wild muttered, “Stop moving about so much, you’re letting the heat out.”

Dray couldn’t help but smile at the Major’s complaining. She reminded him in some ways of…He closed his eyes and willed the heart wrenching images away. Not now…not now!

“Dray? What are we looking for?”

The Colonel leaned down and gripped the cloak in his teeth, pulling the edge up and tucking it around the Major’s neck, “The same thing I’ve told you all the other times you’ve asked me, Heather.” He said calmly.

“Hope…” she whispered, “I…sometimes I don’t know if I have any left. Like, it’s all run out of me.”

“Don’t say things like that.” The Colonel said quietly, “Sometimes, just talking about things can make them happen. We need to stay positive, all of us, and keep moving forward.”

The red mare peered up at him, “But without the princess, why is there still light in our world? If she’s gone, if she’s really dead, how is it that the sun still comes up, even without her here? How? I don’t understand Dray, none of this makes any sense and I don’t like unknowns.” Wild peered up at him with her large jade eyes, “I need hope to carry on. I need it now, not some quest to find it.”

The Colonel nuzzled her gently, laying a foreleg over her and eliciting a soft sigh from the mare from the extra warmth, “I don’t have all the answers, Major. I can only pray that we find them on the night of the full moon.” He looked up at the sky, with its clear stars twinkling high above and even the occasional shooting star, “There’s always hope. Even in the darkness, the emptiness that can swallow us whole, there is always hope.”

Wild muttered something and let out a long soft sigh as she drifted off into sleep. Dray smiled. She was a good friend - trustworthy and brave. Plus, he had to admit, very warm to lie next to as well. He closed his eyes, hoping to grab a few hours before they had to be up once again, but tonight, sleep refused to come. In part, he reasoned, it was probably due to them being so close to their goal; that, and the fact that Wild was lying across his other foreleg. Goddesses, she was heavy!

Approaching hoofsteps announced the appearance of a well cloaked soldier. She leaned down and whispered in his ear,

“Colonel? We’ve found two ponies out by the bend in the river: a unicorn and an earth pony.”

“You know we can’t take in waifs and strays, Private.” Dray sighed, “Send them on their way.”

The soldier nodded, “Your pardon, Colonel, but these two say they fought with you at River Valley and escaped after being captured.”

Now she had the older stallion’s attention. Dray’s eyes narrowed in thought,

“River Valley…and they escaped, did they?” his mind was running through scenario after scenario. He’d not heard of anypony escaping Nightmare Moon’s camp before. Maybe they were spies, sent here with some concocted story to infiltrate them, or maybe they were ponies with vital information on the disposition of the Legion; an intriguing prospect indeed. For now though, he was worn out and there was no way he was going to wake Wild now.

“Give them some hot food, drink, and a place near the cookhouse fire to sleep.” Dray raised an eyebrow meaningfully, “And keep a guard on them, I don’t like surprises.”

“Yes, Sir”

River valley…Dray closed his eyes. He didn’t want to be reminded of that debacle. They’d come so close to being annihilated but still managed to deal the Legion a bloody muzzle nonetheless. If only they’d had the dragon support when they needed it, the princess may have been spared whatever fate she received. He’d sent out pegasi to scout from high altitude, but of the princess of the sun, there was no sign, and from the villages and towns, not a single word…nothing. It was like she’d simply vanished from the face of Equestria. Somewhat encouraging was that the Legion prisoners they’d taken didn’t seem to know what had happened to her either. Moreover, the sun still rose in the sky in the morning, the moon in the evening…strange. Perhaps the world really would just keep rumbling along; the trees and grass growing, foals being born and the elderly passing over to the herd when their time came. In some ways it was as if things had always been this way and always would be, yet it seemed so cruel, so wrong somehow. He’d lost everything: his family, his home, his whole world. Everything had ended that day and yet life trotted along as if nothing had happened…as though it was of no consequence at all. He hated that more than anything. This damned world should have screamed and howled in pain and rage at the evil that had been committed. Yet here it was; uncaring, unfeeling, completely oblivious the suffering of its inhabitants. Sometimes…sometimes he thought about the lives around him now, so expectant, so trusting. What could he bring them except pain, suffering and death? A shudder ran through Dray as his mind wandered back to the sight of his home burning and the flames consuming his loved ones. For a moment he wondered about whether he should have just thrown himself onto his sword….

The Colonel huffed in a breath, catching the gentle scent of mare. He smiled slightly and leaned his head across her neck, listening to the slight hum of contentment from the sleeping Major,

“Goodnight, Heather.”

******************

Trotting into the makeshift shelter, the two half frozen ponies huddled together by the fire shaking horribly. Bracken looked worn, tired and defeated. His breath rose is white plumes around his muzzle while he edged closer and closer to the hot coals of the fire. A large pony had handed them two mess tins with some gloopy soup like stuff that normally they’d have turned their noses up at, but they’d wolfed it down like it was the best thing they’d ever tasted in the world. The cook shook his head and put a few more logs on to keep the fire going,

“You boys okay?” the big fellow asked, “You want, I can go and get the medic to look you over.”

Chalk shook his head, “J…Just need t…to g…get…warm…”

The cook rolled his eyes and brought them another ladle of soup,

“Get that down you. You need warming on the inside as well as out. There’s hot tea as well, and….” He produced a small metal flask, “Et voilà!”

The pony poured a shot of something into a couple of cups and passed them to his two new charges. The liquor infused tea, together with the soup was like a little slice of heaven. Chalk groaned happily, feeling the wash of warmth and life virtually sizzling through him. He looked up at Bracken who smiled for what was probably the first time in the days since this bloody nightmare began. At first they’d been full of excitement, full of the expectation of adventure, and, he had to admit, no small amount of stupidity. His fathers map books were painfully vague and mostly based upon approximations and legends than any hard facts. If this nonsense was what his father had been using when he vanished, then it was no bloody wonder he’d never been seen again! And here, like father like son, his stupid unicorn offspring was trying to get himself killed. Worse, this time he was likely taking his best friend to the grave with him. What the hell had he been thinking?

“What are you boys doing out here?” The heavy set cook asked, “You nearly froze to death!”

Chalk sipped at his tea, trying to avoid the hot enamel cup sticking to his lip. It wasn’t easy, “We’re trying to find the Fortress of the Four Winds.”

The big pony furrowed his brow, “The what?”

Bracken looked up from his tea and cast his friend a withering glance, “It’s a place in the mountains where a bunch of ponies live…apparently. His marefriend mentioned that she goes there to trade rugs and other nonsense.”

The cook looked lost for words, “Your marefriend?”

Chalk stared into the flames, “We sort of finished on bad terms, but I still want to see her again…maybe, maybe she’ll have forgiven me.”

“Hang on,” The cook asked shaking his head in amazement, “you’re here, in the middle of nowhere in freezing conditions, on a journey to somewhere in the mountains to find your girlfriend who you fell out with?”

Chalk nodded, “It does sound a bit stupid when you say it like that.”

“A bit?” the cook replied, “A BIT?! Good goddesses, if I hadn’t heard you’d served at River Valley i’d have taken you for a couple of wandering village idiots.”

“Thanks for the observation.” Bracken snorted, “But I happen to notice you’re out here too. Care to share?”

“No.” the big stallion said, “Not my place. Besides, I’m not sure myself.”

“Huh!” Chalk sniffed, wiping his nose, “Looks like we’re all village idiots then.”

The cook narrowed his eyes for a moment and then gave a short laugh, “Ha! I think you may be right at that, lad.” He shook his head, “Drink your tea and try to get some sleep. It’ll be time to be up soon enough, and I expect the Colonel will want to speak to you.” He walked over to his bedding and curled up next to the fire.

“Oh, joy.” Bracken muttered, “Another fine mess you’ve gotten me into, Chalky.”

“I’m sorry, Brack!” Chalk said rubbing his mane, “I didn’t know it would end up like this, did I? We’ve been okay so far though, right? Things have worked out for us in the end.”

The black stallion fixed him with a wide eyed stare, “More by bloody luck than anything! Have you been keeping track of the amount of times we’ve nearly been killed?” Bracken hissed, “What the hell possessed me to follow you, I’ll never know. You and your hair brained idea to find your blasted fancy pirate piece!”

“Hey! Don’t talk about Gretel like that!” Chalk snapped back, “You’re the one who was knocking off that old tart!”

Bracken slammed his hoof down, his teeth bared angrily, “Why, you…!”

A metallic clang made them stop in their tracks.

“Will you two shut the buck up? I’m trying to get some bloody sleep here and its bad enough without you two fannying about.” The cook raised his ladle menacingly, “One more word from either of you and you’re going outside!”

Bracken held up a hoof in submission, he knew when to give up, and a ladle wielding angry cook was definitely one of those times. He scooted up near the fire and lay on the makeshift bedding, pulling his cloak over himself. Chalk snuck in alongside him to share their body heat. Despite their verbal sparring, they were still friends, and that took precedence over everything else, including arguments over blasted mares! He took a breath and tried to empty his mind. He didn’t want to think of anything right now - not Pickles, not pirates and certainly not freezing their nuts off in some bloody forest. So much for Chalky’s map skills! Perhaps if the blasted thing didn’t look like it had been drawn up before time began it may have helped! But then, even the newer map didn’t have this blasted ‘fortress’ on it. He yawned…Goddess, he was so tired…

Bracken’s mind drifted away to a place that he didn’t recognise, a time he couldn’t place, and yet it was all so familiar. It was quiet too, peaceful and warm. She was here, her beautiful black and white dress rustling as she walked past him to the neatly carved small table with the silver service on it. She smiled up at him from under her long lashes while the sun shone into the conservatory through immensely tall arched windows. The light made her dress look like it was made of onyx, the black fabric slick and smooth, the white lace of her undergarments peeking out from beneath the cuffs and neckline. Her pink mane and tail sparkled like fireworks as she moved, the tiniest of movements making the light dance across her. But it was her eyes, those wonderful, deep yellow eyes that drew him to her.

The mare looked up at him, holding out her hoof and beckoning him to the empty chair beside her. The tea looked so inviting, the sugar bowl and milk jug so incredibly thin it was like paper; delicate, just like the mare herself, a precious flower that needed care and love…gentleness…

Bracken gazed into those yellow eyes and rose from his chair. She watched him in silence, never moving or speaking even as he lifted her mane in his hoof and smelled her scent. She was beyond compare, a mare of beauty and grace the likes of which this world did not deserve, but he needed her, he wanted her…

“She really is quite intriguing, isn’t she?”

A voice behind him made him leap back in shock, only to feel the forelegs of a mare drape themselves around his neck as she purred,

“You like her don’t you? Do you…desire her?”

Bracken hung his head, unable to speak.

Nightmare Moon laughed, “Oh don’t be coy, Bracken! I know your heart better than you do. Don’t you think I’d know if you strayed, or if somepony else had designs upon you?”

His heart leaped, and Bracken stared up in alarm at goddess of the night, his emotions racing in all directions. She shook her head at him with a wry smile,

“I told you about naughty thoughts!” she chuckled, “But no matter, you will be with me again soon.”

“Divine Majesty,” Bracken said quietly, “forgive me, when I am away from you I…forget. I’m so confused, I just…”

“Dear Bracken,” the midnight mare said quietly, her muzzle brushing his ear, “every step, every path you take, brings you closer to me. Then, my dark stallion…” she breathed into his ear, “I shall make you mine…forever.”

A sense of fear, joy and expectation flooded Bracken’s mind, pushing all other concerns and considerations away. All there was, all there should be, was this incredible creature. Nightmare Moon sat beside him, watching the fire while the ‘other’ Bracken and Chalk Dust lay a few feet away. It didn’t seem strange now, not in the slightest, and yet something was troubling him,

“Divine Majesty, may I ask a question?”

The Goddess raised an eyebrow, her azure eyes fixing upon him,

“Very well, I will grant you this.”

“Why did you spare me?”

Nightmare Moon shrugged slightly, “Because it pleased me to do so.”

Bracken looked away, “Oh…”

“Does this answer not satisfy you?” She asked curiously.

He nodded, “Yes…Divine Majesty.”

The mare spread her wings and shook them out, preening them as Bracken looked on in silent awe. Minutes passed, but here, in her world, time meant nothing and this world was Nightmare Moon. With a shake and a rustle, she refolded her wings and got up to walk around the fire,

“I have disappointed you, haven’t I Bracken.” It wasn’t a question.

“No!” Bracken gasped in alarm.

“Oh, but I have. I can see it in you as easily as reading a book.” She looked at him from across the fire, her armour glinting in the glow of the low flames, “You miss me, don’t you?”

Bracken nodded eagerly, “Yes, Divine Majesty.”

“And you can’t understand why you’re here and not by my side.” Nightmare Moon asked.

Bracken nodded again, “No, Divine Majesty.”

“You are a special pony, Bracken…very special.” The Goddess smiled, “Soon, my stallion, very soon, you shall be able to take your proper place at my side.” In the blink of an eye, Nightmare Moon vanished only to appear beside Bracken, her muzzle mere inches from his, “Soon…” she breathed, “You will have all you desire…” the Goddess kissed him on the mouth gently, “Is this…what you desire?”

“No” Bracken whispered.

“No?” She looked surprised.

“No.” Bracken repeated, “I want more.”

“More? My, my, Bracken! Such a greedy…”

Her words were cut off as Bracken reached around her neck and pulled her into a kiss. Nightmare Moon’s eyes grew wide in surprise, and then slowly closed. Let him have his victory, this small gift. She could, after all, be generous to those loyal to her. But this stallion, he was…different. She felt a stirring within her, a flutter of…something, something she didn’t want! But…no, no that could wait, this stallion was….

Nightmare Moon pulled away from Bracken and gasped, her eyes locking onto his and her wings flared. Rising up onto her hind legs, her heart hammering and chest heaving, she howled up at the night sky. Around them thunder rolled and lightning flashed across the sky as the Goddess’s magic raged around them. She stared at him, that…that pony! He was a tool, something to be used, a means to whatever end she wanted, but here he was, daring…DARING to touch her in such a familiar manner! She was the ruler here, she was the one who commanded and he was but one more creature that would obey her! She glared at him, magic burning through her eyes with the light of pure ethereal power, her emotional energy filling her to the point where she had to release it - she had to let it go, just…let it go! With her heart pounding and the raw magic within her screaming for release, the Goddess screamed her frustration into the night and flung herself at the impudent stallion,

“I am the goddess of nightmares! The one who can destroy you with a mere thought! In your dreams I am the one who hunts you, I am the one who can burn your soul to ash!”

Bracken smiled up at her and kissed her on the nose as she bared her teeth at him,

“Then burn me, destroy me, turn me to ash…I am yours, my Goddess, to do with as you will.”

There was a huge crack of thunder as the Goddess grabbed Bracken in her embrace and cried out her feelings…her pain, her anger, her suffering…so many doubts, so many! But not now, not here…

“Damn you Bracken!” she snarled, a tear rolling down her muzzle, “You will suffer my eternal wrath for what you have done.”

The black stallion stroked her neck gently, his voice a mere whisper as the storm of magic died away,

“Then I await it…eagerly…”

*******************

The camp was already in full swing when Chalk awoke, with ponies changing guard and others checking kit and provisions. They looked like they were readying to move out already. Still, he had no idea what these guys were doing out here, especially when the war was already over. Maybe they hadn’t heard yet? There were bound to be places where messages took a long time to get through, and even then, they may not believe it to be genuine. Still, the pony who they’d first encountered said that the commanding officer here was Colonel Dray, the same officer who’d been in command at River Valley. Hoping to cadge some hot food and a fire for the night, as opposed to freezing to death, he’d played on the hope that saying they’d fought at River Valley would do the trick and by the Goddesses, it had. The only slight drawback to the plan was that they were going to be interrogated, and by the looks of it, the tall officer walking towards them was going to be doing just that,

“On your hooves, soldier.”

“Um…” Chalk scratched his mane, “We’re not technically soldiers anymore. The war’s over you know. Didn’t you read the notifications? They’re all over…”

The officer snorted, “I don’t believe in subversive gossip mongering or read Legion propaganda, soldier, and unless you can produce your discharge papers, then so far as I’m concerned you are still a soldier in the Celestian army.”

Oh, bollocks! Chalk pulled himself to his hooves and began grabbing his gear. This wasn’t going to have a happy ending was it? Good Goddesses, he’d have to find some way to get them out of this mess. Bracken, already awake, shot him a look that made his blood run cold; they were in trouble…again!

Colonel Dray looked just like they remembered him: big…big and scarred to buggery. Why a stallion of his age was still tramping around fields like a young colt was anypony’s guess. For that matter, Chalk had no idea why any of these were. He reached for his pipe only to realise he’d run out of tobacco several days earlier, and those ‘settlements’ mentioned on the map had not exactly held any quality tobacconist’s. Most of them had in fact, clearly been abandoned long ago. That bloody map! Thanks Dad!

“Sit down gentlecolts, please.” Dray held out a hoof, reading a note, “Ebony Bracken and Chalk Dust, correct? I understand you were at River Valley?”

Bracken shushed Chalk with a hoof before the blabber mouth managed to get them into any more hot water,

“Yes, Colonel. I was with the First Division, under Captain Silver Spark. Chalk was with the Unicorn Division providing ground support.”

“And you were captured, I understand?” the officer enquired.

Bracken winced. That bloody Chalky and his damned big mouth! Goddess damn it! Now even that big red mare was staring at them, and that dimwit unicorn was looking back at her with puppy eyes. She probably reminded him of that pirate mare, the one they were going to get themselves killed trying to find. Why the hell they couldn’t just go back to the port and wait for her was anypony’s guess, but no! Adventurous unicorn extraordinaire had to go north to this fantasy castle that probably didn’t…

“Mister Bracken?”

“Oh! Sorry Colonel.” Bracken reined his thoughts in, “Yes that's right; I was wounded, as was Chalk, and the two of us were captured. It was only by the grace of Celestia we were able escape.”

“I see.” The Colonel glanced across at the Major, “How exactly did you manage to escape, Mister Bracken?”

Chalk just jumped right in, “I was in a compound with a load of other prisoners, but most of them were from the crew of a sky galleon. They tricked the thestral officer into coming in when the camp was nearly empty and ‘boom’! Buck to the face!” Bracken cringed as Chalk even did the kicking movements. Unfortunately, the excited unicorn wasn’t finished - “Yeah! And then we ran like the wind!”

“They didn’t hunt you down?” The red mare asked.

“Ha!” Chalk laughed, “They tried! We took ‘em out as we flew away…you should have seen it!”

Dray exchanged glances with the red mare, “What do you mean, ‘flew away’? Forgive me, Mister Chalk, I don’t see any wings?”

Chalk snorted, “On the Revenge of course, the finest sky galleon to sail the skies of Equestria.”

The Colonel lifted his pipe and took a draw, watching Chalk’s reaction and the way his eyes followed his hooves,

“Smoke?”

“Yes, please, Colonel!” Chalk nodded enthusiastically, “We ran out ages ago.”

The grey stallion called over his shoulder, “Chipper, can you bring my smoking box and tobacco pouch over. The good stuff please.” Chalk’s eyes lit up in anticipation. “You were saying about this ‘sky galleon’, the Revenge I think you called it?”

“Her”, Chalk corrected, “We were going to fly away, like I said, but I pleaded with the Captain to help our forces and, thanks to my persuasive skills and her infatuation with me, we swooped in and blew the crap of out those thestrals!”

Chalk sat there with a smug smile on his face while Bracken just face hoofed behind him.

The red mare muttered something to the Colonel they couldn’t quite hear. Whatever it was, he was nodding intently before turning to back to them,

“Who is the Captain of this sky galleon, Mister Chalk?”

“Her name’s Gretel” Chalk replied, nodding to himself knowingly as he lit his pipe.

“Do you know how we can contact her?” Asked the Colonel, “You mentioned you were trying to find her, I believe?”

“Did I?” Chalk blew a lazy smoke ring, “I don’t remember saying anything about…”

Bracken cut in, “Actually Colonel, we are. The Revenge is a trading vessel and we’re trying to find her and re-unite my unicorn friend here with his marefriend.”

The red mare leaned forward, smiling kindly, “Where were you heading, Bracken? Perhaps we can help you.”

“That would be very kind, Miss…?” Bracken began.

“Wild, Major Wild.” The red mare nodded to him, “Please continue.”

Bracken could sense an angle here. These two were planning something and the ‘nicey nicey’ attitude was setting his hackles off like noponies business,

“I’m not sure of the exact location to be honest, Major Wild. We were told they traded to the north at a place in the mountains, but I think we may have overestimated our capabilities, not to mention the weather up here.”

The Colonel shook his head, “The only place up in the northern mountains is the territory of the wendigo and their home, the Fortress of the Four Winds. Let me tell you something, young Bracken,” he leaned forward, “I was on the border forts for part of my youth and nopony in their right mind goes looking for that place, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir” Bracken said quietly.

He cast a look at Chalk who looked like someone had just shattered his dreams and left the pieces lying at his hooves. Surely Chalky must have realised the stupidity of this ‘quest’, especially at this time of year. Their desperation to get away from home and rushing off into the mountains was, on reflection, the most ridiculous thing they’d ever done. Perhaps, once the dust had settled, they could just go back and the villagers would have forgotten all that nonsense with the Legion patrol. They’d saved the foals from the school for goodness sake! Just because he…damn it! His head suddenly throbbed painfully, making him squeeze his eyes shut with a gasp.

“Are you alright?” Major Wild asked, peering at him, “I can call the medics if your head’s troubling you.”

“No…” Bracken winced, “Its nothing, I get migraines sometimes that’s all. It’ll pass.”

Dray and Wild left the two young ponies with the guards whilst they walked away to converse quietly between themselves. The Colonel spoke in low, hushed tones,

“What do you think?”

“Naïve, adventurous; typical stallions of that age I’d say.” Wild lifted an eyebrow questioningly, “You think they’re lying?”

Dray shook his head, “No. Did you see those scars? They’re recent, and if he was indeed on that sky galleon, we could very well owe that young unicorn our lives.” The Colonel snorted, “Even if he does have a rather active imagination.”

“He is a good looking lad, Dray, I don’t think there’s many a mare out there who’d turn him down in a hurry.” Wild said quietly, “He could very well have turned the head of the Captain.”

The Colonel huffed, “As fanciful as some of his tale sounds, I’ll bow to your knowledge of mares, Heather.”

“So, the question is, what do we do with them?”

Dray smiled, “I think we should try and re-unite the young lovers, don’t you?” he scratched his mane thoughtfully, “I do like a happy ending.” He took a draw on his pipe, letting the smoke curl up into the chill air, “Goddesses know we need one.”

Chapter Thirty One - Heart of the Raven

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

HEART OF THE RAVEN

The deck creaked ominously beneath the crews hooves. She wasn’t happy, not happy at all, and it was making them all feel on edge. The Captain was at it again, perform his ‘Requirements’ as he called them, only this time it had gone too far…way to far. The purple stallion walked over and lifted the yellow one’s head,

“He’s dead Captain.”

The lime green stallion shook his head, “Oh no, no, no, that won’t do, Mister Fallow. You will continue to administer the lashes as I commanded….” He glowered at his Master at Arms, “And you will not…miss…one, Mister Fallow, do you hear me? NOT ONE!”

“Aye, aye Cap’n” the purple stallion said tapping his forelock. He unfurled the lash once more, balancing on his hind legs, and swung,

“SIXTY TWO!”

The lashing went on. Stroke after stroke, the sound reverberated through the Captain’s body, through the deck and into his very soul. He was the master here, he was the god of the ship and every pony beneath his lash would do their duty to him or they would suffer the same fate. Let them see, let them taste the fate of any who defied him! Damned scum, every single one of them!

The Captain limped into his cabin, his half rotten leg was causing him more pain than ever today, the damp weather seemed to aggravate it to the point where he’d thought of cutting the damned thing off himself. The green coated stallion dragged himself over to his desk, pulling out a bottle of the foul tasting gunk the doctor had given him. He screwed his face up in disgust, the vile stuff stank as bad as it tasted. Even so, it was the only thing that gave him some relief, yet each time he used it, the effect seemed to lessen. There was a knock at the door,

“Cronus?”

Damn him! It was that blasted unicorn again. The bloody creature always had a knack for appearing at the worst possible times,

“Come in!” he snapped.

The blood red stallion with the long black cloak swept into the cabin and bowed,

“Captain, I am at your service.”

“Like hell you are,” Cronus barked, “you’re at your own damnable service.” He let out a wracking cough, catching the edge of his desk as the room span.

“Captain? May I be of assistance?”

“Get back from me!” Cronus snapped, spitting a gobbet of blood and phlegm on the floor, “It’s your freakish magic that’s done this to my leg! Do something about it, or I’ll have you flogged, damn you!”

The unicorn shook his head slowly, “No…I don’t think you will, Captain. You need me as much as I need you. For now.”

“You black hearted rat!” Cronus choked, “I want you off this ship, you and your cursed cargo!”

“It’s hardly cursed, Cronus.” The unicorn chuckled, “You just don’t understand magic, none of you earth ponies do. That in itself is a curse you must endure, I’m afraid.”

“A curse? I’d rather live with that for a thousand years than be ‘blessed’ with such an unnatural thing as ‘magic’. That is the real curse here, Fire Light.” He pulled out a bottle of rum and swigged it straight from the bottle, “You can keep your bloody magical powers. I want them off my ship as soon as we dock.”

The unicorn bowed, “As you wish, Captain. I merely came to tell you that we are nearing the Llamalian Empire and should be making port at Erithin in around three days.” He smiled, “Then, you may be rest assured that I and my cargo, shall be on our way and you need never see us again.”

“I don’t know why I ever agreed to let you on board!” Cronus hissed, turning back to his desk, “Why the hell I didn’t hire a normal wind mage, I’ll never know.”

“Oh, but you already know!” Fire Light laughed, “Because I paid you for transporting my cargo.” He leaned forward, his silver eyes gleaming, “And I paid you very well indeed, Cronus, don’t forget that.”

The Captain jumped from his chair, wincing in pain as his leg half buckled beneath him,

“Get out! Get out of here you damned vermin! Go do your bloody job and leave me be!”

Fire Light bobbed his head, the ghost of a smile on his face,

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Cronus glared at the door as the unicorn swept out like some reaper of souls. He took another mouthful of the rum. Perhaps, that’s what the bloody creature was…the reaper, the harvester of ponies bound for the beyond. He shook his head and rubbed his face…Dear Goddesses, why wouldn’t the pain stop? WHY?! He staggered to the door,

“MISTER WEEVIL!”

The helmspony called back up, “Aye, Cap’n?”

Cronus stared down at the brown and cream pony on the wheel,

“You’re not, Weevil. Where the hell is he?”

“He be sick, Cap’n, stayed ashore as ye ordered.” The pony replied.

Cronus leaned against the doorframe and rubbed his eyes against the glare of the morning sunlight. Had he ordered Weevil to stay in port? Goddesses, he couldn’t remember, he couldn’t even remember the name of the pony in front of him now,

“Well…” he cleared his throat, “Where’s Doc Bright Days, then?”

“’E be below, Cap’n. Few o’ the crew be sufferin’ from the flux.” Came the reply, “Ye want me ta get im fer ye?”

“No…” Cronus groaned, “I’ll get him myself, just…steady as she goes.”

The brown and cream stallion tapped his forelock, “Aye, Cap’n, steady as she goes.”

The ship shuddered beneath his hooves as the Captain staggered to the hatchway. Around him, the crew pointedly avoided his gaze, and rightly so. Bloody trouble makers every single one damned of them; but he knew, he wasn’t as stupid and senile as those slugs seemed to think. The Ravens Eye was his ship, his! And nopony would take her from him. Anger seething through his veins, the Captain hammered on the door of sick bay,

“Doc! Get over here, I need you!”

A charcoal coated stallion appeared, wiping his forehead with a cloth. He looked tired, drawn, and sickly like the rest of the crew. Doctor Bright Days looked anything but like his namesake,

“Captain?”

“Doctor, I need you to do something about this accursed leg.” The Captain said, pushing past and hauling himself onto the examination bed, “Do something, anything!”

The doctor shook his head, “Have you been taking the…”

“Of course I have!” Cronus hissed angrily as he moved the injured leg, “That crap tastes like you dredged it up from the devils arse hole.”

Bright Days ignored him. The Captain was a pony of short temper to begin with, but the constant pain he was in with this leg was beginning to affect his judgement. Dear Goddesses, he’d had that poor stallion flogged to death for…

“DAMN IT PONY!” Cronus shrieked, “Are you trying to kill me?!”

The doctor looked up at him, “If I don’t unwrap the bandages, how do you expect me to examine it?”

“Just…just bloody well hurry!” Cronus barked, “Celestia’s reeking arse, i’m starting to wish that damned thing had finished the bloody job.”

Bright Days removed the last of the bandage as carefully as he could, but much of it had soaked up the fluids from the injury below…and then the smell hit him. The stench of rotten flesh and infection, like some strong smelling cheese, made him gag and wretch. This was bad; much of the fur had gone and the flesh beneath was blackened, with large open sores around the initial wound. Worse still, it was spreading quickly. The ointments and salves had done next to nothing and if he didn’t do something, it would spread to the point where nothing would be able to save him.

“What’s it like, Doc? Tell me the truth now.”

Bright Days took a breath and looked his Captain in the eyes,

“I’m sorry, Captain, it’ll have to come off. If we don’t, you’ll die.”

Cronus closed his eyes and leaned back on the bed, “Then do it. Now, before I change my mind.”

“Captain…”

Cronus slammed a hoof on the bed angrily,

“You’re the bloody doctor! Get on with it pony!”

The Captain lay back, staring up at the ceiling while the doctor rushed around gathering his instruments, medical supplies and a couple of crewponies to hold him down. He couldn’t believe this was happening, and all because of that bloody unicorn…why had he listened to him? Why? He sighed. It was all because of some ludicrous scheme to collect Wyvern venom, and the best way was to extract it apparently, was from young still in the nest. Now the hold of the ship had several barrels of the stuff, four to be precise, and that happened to be the same number of crew he’d lost when those damned things came at them out of the mist. He’d never forget the screams, not as long as he lived. Nor, he thought to himself bitterly, his own as the last one sank its teeth into his hind leg. In some bizarre way, this was almost like poetic justice for what they’d done.

“Captain, take this.”

Bright Days passed the Captain a mug of something that smelled as foul as everything else that the blasted quack made for him, but if it helped him, he didn’t care.

“It should only take a few seconds to kick in, and then you’ll start to feel groggy.” The Doctor shook his head, “Captain, you know what we’re going to have to do, don’t you.”

“Aye!” Cronus groused, “Torture me with you blasted whining voice! Don’t talk about it, Bright Days, just damned well do it!”

The Doctor nodded to the others, “Hold him down.”

Cronus closed his eyes, but his mind could still see the knife, the saw, the needles…cutting into his body, slicing hacking…

His screams echoed around the room. He hadn’t been prepared for this! Nothing like this! Cronus gasped and shrieked, his howls deafening in the confines of the room as the unimaginable agony burned through his body like liquid fire. The sound, the vibration…Dear Goddesses it was never ending…

Mercifully, darkness took him into its cold embrace.

*********************

Bright Days wiped his forehead with a damp cloth and fought down the tiredness and nausea that had been plaguing him since this sickness had broken out. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the medicine cabinet and took out the rum. It was one of the small pleasures of his profession and one that he had been indulging in far too often of late. He’d always been critical of his fellow practitioners who were notorious for being ‘half cut’ during voyages, with some stories coming back of drunken surgeons removing wrong limbs and poisoning their patients. And now…now he was heading in the same direction wasn’t he?

The doctor wiped down the Captain’s muzzle; it was slick with sweat. Thank the Goddesses he’d passed out after a while, but not until most of work had been done. Speed was the key factor here, speed and ignoring the pleas of your patient. He took another swig of rum and then put the bottle away. The two crewponies were waiting by the door,

“Doc? Do you still need us?”

“No.” Bright Days shook his head, “No, lads. Go tell the Bosun you’re done and I authorise an extra tot of rum for each of you.” That put a smile on their faces. The Doctor motioned towards the reaking lump of rotten meat in the basket, “And chuck that overboard for the Goddesses’ sake.”

They nodded and left, leaving the exhausted doctor to lean back in his chair. This was ridiculous. Ever since that bloody unicorn had come aboard, ever since they’d embarked on that insane plan to collect wyvern venom, the ship had been…he shook his head slowly. He didn’t know, and in fact that was exactly the problem wasn’t it? He’d read every book he had, tried every cure and remedy he could think of and nothing worked…nothing! The pressure and distress of having to treat an increasing number of sick crew was driving him to drink more each and every day. Even the Raven was being affected by it, although that wasn’t really that surprising. Everypony who knew these ships knew of the bond between a vessel and her crew, and it worked well…usually. Now though, the crew were sickening as, it felt, was the very ship itself. He shook his mane, noting the strands of hair dropping to the floor. He was in the early stages of the malady himself. If they didn’t reach port and get proper help soon, they’d never make it. None of them would.

On the main deck, leaning against the ships wheel with a blanket over him, the helmspony fought to stay awake. He was worried about the ship. The old girl was sickening, frightened and clearly in distress. From her rigging to her sails, the Raven shivered and shook as if taken herself by the same sickness that had already claimed so many of the crew. Burials at sea were now a daily occurrence, and the Raven felt every death, every life draining away to leave forever. Salty stroked the ships wheel, cooing to her softly, trying to reassure her, but it did little to help. Death at sea was not uncommon, it was a dangerous profession, but there’d been so much and so fast, it had frightened her.

As Salty checked the bearing from the large ships compass, he could sense something running through the old ship, something cold, and dark…something that shouldn’t be there. He let his mind wander, trying to see for himself, but she was too scared and hid from him. That in itself worried him, the Raven was normally very open to him, responding to his touch with a lightness of rudder that had her gliding through the clouds like no other sky vessel in Equestria. Her crew loved her, he loved her and the Raven loved all of them. To see her like this…

Salty wiped the rogue tear away from him eye. He wanted to help her, he needed to. He had nopony else in this world: no wife, no foals, no parents, nothing…only her, the open sky, and the sea. Closing his eyes once more he listened and opened his heart.

“Raven?”

The voice came back to him - old, ancient as the mountains and yet as innocent as a newborn foal.

Frightened…it hurts…it hurts…!

“Where? Where does it hurt?”

Inside. Below. It hurts…its hurts!

“Shhhh, my love, I be with ye. I’ll go an’ see.”

No! Stay with me! Afraid!

Salty’s heart leaped in response, “I have ta look me love, or else I can’t help ye. I’ll still be with ye, I promise.”

The Raven shuddered, sending a wave of anxiety through the deck. The crew in the rigging looked at each other nervously, feeling the ship’s mood even up there. Everypony was changing lately, the once noted comradely bond they shared had all but evaporated with the constant sickness. Morale was becoming dangerously low and the Captain had changed since he’d been bitten too. He tried to hide it, but they all saw it…the old stallion was dying.

Salty lashed the wheel in place and trotted to the hatchway. Even moving this far was making his stomach churn, and for a moment he thought he was going to lose what little he’d managed to keep down that morning. Mercifully however, the wave of nausea dissipated. Taking one quick glance back at the wheel, he slipped below decks. If the Captain caught him, he’d be flogged. Deserting your post was punishable by up to forty lashes, but there were so of them left to crew the Raven now, he doubted anypony would bother reporting him. Besides, he could just say he went for a piss…

It was dark down here, cold and quiet. Normally, it was a sneaky place for a crewpony to slope off for a quiet smoke away from the usual hubbub on deck, but now it felt like a graveyard. Salty headed for the hold, reaching for his connection with the Raven through the deck. He was one of her helmsponies, the ones she trusted second only to the Captain, if not more even; especially since he’d started to change. Salty closed his eyes a moment,

“Show me…”

An image of darkness, of something fluid, a sense of ‘shape’…it was hard to describe. Salty concentrated as hard as he could. It was difficult for the Raven to explain, she was having…no…there! Yes! Salty felt his heart leap and he moved quicker than he had in days, arrowing straight for the forward hold.

They had precious little cargo on board at the moment, but the incredibly high payout promised by the unicorn mage had sounded like a once in a lifetime deal and they’d all enthusiastically agreed to his terms, especially after being told how many bits each of them would receive. Dear Goddesses, they could retire on that! All of them! But it had come at a terrible cost, and just when the crew thought they’d managed to escape the worst of it, the sickness had hit them. One by one they’d started to succumb to the strange malady and gradually, those stricken by it simply…faded away. Nopony had ever seen anything like it before, nor heard of it. They’d even named it after the way it took a pony, the way the body weakened and you slipped into death as gently as a lamb. They called it ‘the Fade’.

Salty rushed towards the forward hold and straight into the locked doors. What the hell was this?! Nopony locked the holds on the Raven! Frantically, he looked around for what he knew would be there: the loose boards beside the bulkhead, the ones that had never been repaired, not since the incident with the loose cargo that had cost their ship’s carpenter stripes across his back. He hadn’t been too ‘incentivised’ after that and had jumped ship the next chance he got. Salty however, was a thin pony, he always had been, but even so it was still one hell of a squeeze to get himself through the gap. Muzzle, ears, neck…good Goddesses, if he got stuck now…but finally, with a grunt and no end of relief, he managed to heave his body through - albeit with a few stinging grazes and splinters by feel of it. He winced. They’d be fun to get out later, he thought to himself sarcastically. Right now though, it was time to have a look and see what was troubling the Raven…

Salty held up his lantern. In the darkness, the dim yellow light showed more shadow than anything else; shadow, and a mostly empty hold. But there, towards the back, the precious cargo he knew should be in here was still exactly where it had been secured. He walked over to it, holding the lantern up for a better look. Sure enough, there they were…four barrels of wyvern venom. Those damned things had cost the lives of more crew than he cared to remember, but at least they were…wait…

The brown and cream coated stallion leaned down, bringing the lantern nearer for a closer look. Something was shining in the darkness, glistening wetly down the side of one of the barrels and pooling on the floor where it had begun to soak into the decking. Salty’s heart leaped. It was the venom, the damned stuff was leaking out. This must be what was sickening the ship, and that smell! Dear Goddesses, it was putrid beyond description. His ears twitched at a faint sound behind him; somepony was outside the door. Quickly and quietly, Salty extinguished the lantern and ducked behind one of the large hull ribs and crouched low, keeping as quiet as possible. Seconds later, a metallic clank and the sound of a bolt being drawn back was followed by the main door to the hold swinging open. Salty held his breath as a figure entered.

It was hard to see who it was; the way the light fell was causing the newcomer to be bathed in shadows that hid any specific details. But then, they moved, their lantern swinging around as the figure began to carefully inspect the barrels. There was no mistaking that outline now…nor that horn. Salty’s heartbeat felt abnormally loud as he tried his best to keep quiet, waiting to see what would happen next. Held in the purple aura of his magic, the unicorn mage, Fire Light, floated a small glass tube over to the leaking barrel. In the eerie ethereal light, the unicorn’s teeth and eyes glistened as he filled up the glass tube and placed a cork stopper in the end before slipping it back into his pannier. Then, as quickly and quietly as he’d entered, he trotted out of the door and paused, looking back over his shoulder.

Salty held his hooves over his muzzle and closed his eyes. Dear Goddesses, he hadn’t seen him had he ? Please no…please, please, please…

The door closed with a thump, followed by the clang of the bolt being shoved back into place and the click of the large padlock. Salty let out his breath, his tortured lungs gasping in air despite the unpleasant mustiness of the hold. Normally being in here made his nose twitch, but now, it was like a little piece of heaven. Quietly, he slipped back out of the gap in the wall and replaced the planks behind him.

“Find what you were looking for, did you?”

Salty froze, not even daring to look up. He swallowed, looking up into the purple glow of magic which held the unicorn’s lantern before him,

“Well?”

Salty licked his lips nervously. This stallion was up to something, and whatever it was stank more than the stuff in those barrels. He took a breath and stood his ground,

“What ye be looking fer eh?” He pointed at the unicorns’ pannier, “What be that tube fer?”

“None of your damned business,” the mage replied with a sneer, “you wouldn’t understand anyway. Your kind are only fit for menial tasks, and I suggest you get yourself back to them before I report you to the Captain for dereliction of duty.”

The mage huffed and began to climb the steps leading back up to the main deck, the brown and cream crewpony not far behind him. Salty’s heart was still hammering from the fright the bloody creature had given him, but he knew now, there was no doubting it…that unicorn was trouble.

Back on deck, several of the crew were milling around and muttering to one another in hushed tones. One of them called over to Salty,

“Hoy, you hear about the Captain?”

Salty shook his head, “No, what’s goin’ on?”

“Lost ‘is leg I ‘ere.”

“No!”

“Aye, lopped it off like a lump o’ dead wood. It’s the Fade, I reckons.”

“Nah. Fade don’t take ye like that.”

“Is ‘e alive?”

“Aye, fer now.”

The chatter was interrupted by the doctor appearing on the deck. Salty saw straight away just how tired and drawn the stallion looked, the dark rings around his eyes testimony to just how little sleep he’d had since the sickness had begun to spread amongst the crew. Dear Goddesses, he looked worse than some of his patients. He leaned back against the wall of the Captain’s cabin and just sat there, breathing slowly.

“Doc? Be ye all right?” Salty asked concernedly.

Bloodshot almond eyes looked up at him,

“I’m fine, just tired that’s all.”

Salty nodded, “Aye, well, let me know if’n I can do owt fer ye”

The doctor gave him a weak smile before knocking bag a swig of something from a large green bottle. Salty nodded to him then turned away, returning to his post at the wheel. He was supposed to be getting relieved soon, and then he’d have a chance to try and get some rest, but the image of that unicorn kept playing through his mind again and again. Should he tell the doctor? The guy looked sick, really sick, but who else could he tell? Half the crew, maybe more, looked like they were on their last legs already and as for the Captain… Salty took a deep breath and went back to his work. He’d think better after a nights sleep.

*******************

The sounding of the ship’s bell normally woke him for his shift on the helm, the Raven often calling gently to him as readied himself for another day, her voice as soft and warm as a lovers caress. Salty yawned. With Weevil sick back on shore he was pulling extra shifts to cover for him, but it didn’t bother him one bit, the call of the ship was almost intoxicating…and he revelled in it. This morning however was different. There was no bell, no call from the Raven…nothing. Had he been so tired he’d slept through it? Probably. Salty shrugged and went to the water pail to wash up. It was a beautiful morning and the sun was just broaching the horizon. He’d slept on deck again last night, a simple blanket over his back was all he needed at this time of year. Besides, with the sickness running rampant below decks, he’d much rather stay up here where he could breathe the fresh air.

Shaking the water from his face, Salty stretched and yawned widely. His legs were stiff this morning, a sure sign he must have been sleeping badly again - rope certainly didn’t make for a good bed it seemed. Looking up he caught sight of a lone albatross, its haunting cry a reminder of the fear the ship had been feeling the other night, and the distress he’d felt himself at her plight. Thank the Goddesses that they were nearing port. It was a relief the sails were still full; whether that was due to the natural wind or the unicorn mage remained to be seen. With another yawn, Salty walked over to the helm to…

There was nopony there.

That was was odd. Fibre had taken over from him last night as usual, but there was no sign of him now. Still, the wheel was lashed in place and, after a quick check on the compass, they were on course, so all was well. Salty shrugged it off. Fibre had probably snuck off for a sly smoke and would no doubt be back in a minute or two. Unlashing the wheel, Salty yawned once more, letting his mind reach for the Raven. He was worried for her, she hadn’t called for him this morning, but that wasn’t really that surprising if she was as upset as she had been last night. In some ways, she was like a child: energetic and full of fascination for the world around her, but at other times, she could be petulant and even downright stubborn to the point of frustration. For the most part though, all it took were some kind words and a light touch on the wheel and she’d respond happily…usually.

“Raven?”

Silence

“Ye be there, me love?”

There was a sound, distant and weak. She was tired, so, so tired. Her normal vibrancy and sense of life had faded to what felt like no more than a mere trickle. A cold flood of fear washed through the stallion, making his mane shiver, and then he realised the true horror of what he was feeling from her…she was dying. Lashing the wheel Salty looked around him for somepony to help, anypony, but…dear Goddesses, was he still dreaming? Where the hell was everypony? He hadn’t really noticed in his usually groggy morning fuse, but the deck, even the rigging, was empty of everypony but him.

Salty took a deep breath, trying to calm his now racing heart. He could feel himself beginning to panic, the stories of ghost ships and sailing off the edge of the world flying into his mind…

“No!” He shouted to himself, “Damn it all!” he rammed his whole head into the water barrel and pulled it out, gasping with the shock of the cold. Now that was better!

Shaking himself off, Salty hurried to the sick bay. If nothing else, there’d be somepony there. He hurtled down the stairs and reached the door. It hung open, creaking to and fro with the gentle swaying of the ship, the lanterns still lit despite the daylight streaming through the open hatchway,

“Doc? Bright Days?”

Salty pushed the door open fully and gingerly nosed his way in. Inside, the smell was terrible. Warm air, mixed with the body odour of poorly washed sailors was usually enough to turn most stomachs, but this was on another level altogether. It smelled…sweet, like treacle or roses…he shook his head - it was sickly too, a smell he didn’t like one little bit.

Doc Bright Days was sat at his table, his foreleg outstretched next to an almost empty rum bottle. Salty tapped him on the shoulder,

“Doc?”

There was no response. He shook him again, harder this time,

“Doc! Fer the Goddesses sake pony, will ye wake up?!”

“Hmm? S…Salty? Oh, Goddesses…” The doctor’s eyes fluttered open, “I’m…still alive?”

“Aye!” Salty said grabbing the doctor’s muzzle, “An’ we’ve got trouble! There be nopony on deck an’ the ship be sickenin’ bad. What the hell be goin’ on Doc, where be everypony?”

The charcoal stallion began to push himself to his hooves. It was almost too painful to watch. His face looked drawn, his eyes sunken; even his coat looked like it was merely hanging off his bones like a shroud. Salty closed his eyes and fought down the rising tide of distress he could feel inside,

“Doc? Please, speak ter me!”

Bright Days finally stood before him on all four legs, the effort having all but drained him,

“Salty…most of the crew…” he shook his head, fixing him with his large almond eyes, “Last night, the sickness took more of them. The rest are in there, too sick to move.” He let out an ironic sigh, “I thought I was the last one who could still stand and there you are like nothing’s happened.” He chuckled under his breath.

Salty began to pace back and forth anxiously,

“Doc, I can’t sail the Raven on me own, I needs ponies to help take ‘er in ter port. What are we goin’ ter do?”

Bright Days looked defeated, “I don’t know Salty, I don’t…”

“What about the Captain?” Salty interrupted hopefully, “He weren’t sick!”

The doctor shook his head sadly, “Salty, he’s…”

The brown and cream stallion didn’t wait, he bolted out of the sick bay and up the stairs to the Captain’s cabin. His heart racing, he wanted nothing more than to simply burst in, and considering the severity of the situation he didn’t think the Captain would really mind. But still, the very real risk of a lashing held him in check and he paused, knocking respectfully,

“Captain?”

There was nothing, not a sound, only the cry of the albatross high above circling the ship. Salty gritted his teeth and opened the door,

“Pardon me, Captain, may I speak with ye?”

The Captain was fast asleep in his bed, the covers pulled over him while one of the crew sat beside him with a bowl and a cloth. Salty watched as the stallion poured something into the bowl from a familiar thin glass tube and began mixing it slowly. The glow from his magic…

“YOU!”

Salty bellowed and charged forward, knocking the bowl from the unicorn’s grasp, “Ye damned scabrous rat! I knows yer game now, ye stinking scum bucket. It’s yer damned potions an’ magic, ye’ve poisoned us all!”

The unicorn peered up at him from under his cloak, his eyes blood shot and tired but still filled with an air of superiority that boiled his blood,

“You…bloody fool!” Fire Light spat, “Stop interfering with things will you? You damned earth ponies haven’t got a…”

Salty’s hoof flew out and impacted with the unicorn’s skull with a heavy crack, sending the cloaked creature to the floor,

“Ter hell with ye, ye damn bilge rat.”

Salty reached out for the Captain. He was weak, pale and drawn, but still alive. Rinsing out the cloth in some fresh water, the brown and cream stallion wiped the his brow,

“Captain? Captain Cronus, sir?”

With almost agonising slowness, the Captain’s eyes began to open, the effort to speak and even focus clearly pushing him to the very limits of his endurance.

“S…Salty…” his breath sounded dry and distant, “How…goes the….Raven?”

“She be sick sir,” Salty said in a voice a lot calmer than he felt, “the barrels in the hold be leakin’ an’ I fear it’s sunk into her. We have ter get ‘em over the side or we could lose ‘er.”

Cronus blinked slowly, “Salty…do what you can…save the…save the ship.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n”

A hoof suddenly shot out from under the blanket, “Salty!” the Captain coughed, “Take this! If…if you can’t…if she can’t be…” his voice began to fade, “give it…to Bright Days…he’ll know what…what to do.”

“Aye, Cap’n,” Salty said quietly, “I’ll do as ye say.”

Carefully, he tucked the Captain’s foreleg back under the blanket and hurried out of the room. That damned unicorn! Maybe he should have tied him up, finished him off somehow, but the ship…the ship came first. Bright Days was on deck, leaning heavily against the main mast,

“Is he…?”

“He be alive,” Salty said, “he asked me to give ye this”

Salty held up the metal item the Captain had given him. It was a key, a heavy, solid iron key on a long thin chain designed, by the looks of it, to be worn around the neck. Doc Bright Days shook his head sorrowfully,

“Heh,” he snorted, “expecting the worst it he?” The doctor sniffed, “Can’t blame him, I suppose.”

“Doc,” Salty said clopping the charcoal stallion on the shoulder, “it be that unicorn, he been poisonin’ the crew. I seen ‘im takin’ that stuff from the barrels an’ givin’ it ter the Cap’n.”

Doc’s eyes went wide, “What? Dear Goddesses…”

Salty nodded, “Doc, I have ter gets them barrels overboard, they be leakin’ an’ sickenin’ the Raven.”

“What do you want me to do?” the Doctor asked.

Salty glanced towards the cabin, “I left that bilge rat on the floor in the Capn’s quarters.”

“Aye…” Bright Days said solemnly, “I’ll take care of him. I’ll come along and give you a hoof as soon as i’m done.”

Without wasting any more time, Salty quickly set about setting up the cargo lifting gear. It was a nightmarish job on his own, but with those who remained too sick and weakened to help, he had little choice. Fortunately, Salty was considered ‘an old hoof’ even at his young age, having been born into a seafaring family on the coast. His cutie mark, a small galleon in full sail, had left little doubt as to his destiny in this world - and he excelled at it. In short order, he had the lifting gear in place, the cargo hatch open, and was down at the door to the hold. With a grunt, he lifted the pry bar into the space between the padlock and the hasp, stood on his hind legs and heaved. There was a loud crack as the lock broke free of the door and fell with a clatter onto the floor.

Sunlight was flooding into the hold, showing the full scale of the leak - it was bad…very bad. The foul smelling venom had escaped not just from one barrel, but from the others as well, the extent of it all but invisible in the normally dark confines of the hold. Salty stared in horror at the trail of green that had soaked into the ships timbers, across the floor and even up the wall. The more he looked the more the wood where it had soaked in looked sickly, rotten…

“Alright me brave girl,” Salty muttered, tying the rope around the first barrel, “lets be gettin’ this outta yer’ now.”

The first one was ready. All he needed now was to…

A loud creak and bang echoed around the hold making the whole ship shudder violently and lurch hard over to starboard before gradually righting herself. Salty only just managed to keep his hoofing as the floor beneath him moved. He muttered a curse and thanked the Goddesses that he’d re-secured the other barrels as the first one swung out slightly but remained, mercifully, intact. Back up on deck, he hurried to the helm and checked the wheel - it was still securely lashed. The ship herself however, was clearly in distress; the sense she gave him was one of fear, bordering on terror, but also…loss…

“Oh, no” Salty muttered looked across the deck to the cabin door, “…Captain…”

Cronus hadn’t been a popular Captain, but he’d been a good one in his day. It had only been this last journey that had soured things with the crew and now…Damn it all! He didn’t have time for this! Hopefully the Doctor was alright, but this business needed to be tended to now or else the ship could founder. Salty gripped the rope and began to heave the barrel up. A few hard pulls later, it was swinging over the open hatchway dripping that vile green fluid, like blood seeping from a wound. In the light of day it was all too clear that the barrels they’d used had been hopelessly inadequate. With luck though, they’d hold together until he could get them over the side.

“What the hell are you doing? You damned fool!”

Salty looked round in surprise. The unicorn mage was staring down at him, holding a hoof to his head. Hurt his noggin had he? Salty thought to himself bitterly, pity he hadn’t knocked the bloody thing off. Suddenly, purple magic glowed around the barrel.

“Leave go, yer rat!” the brown and cream sailor snapped, “Those things
be killin’ the ship an’ I’ll send ye o’er the side too if yer don’t pack that in.”

“Shut up, you idiot!” The Fire Light shouted, “Those things are worth more than gold! You don’t know what you’re doing, they’re…”

With a bellow of rage, Salty threw himself at the unicorn mage, using anything and everything he could to pummel the creature. But Fire Light was fast; despite his head injury, he was able to knock the earth stallion away and quickly rounded on him. The creature was shouting incessantly now, but Salty couldn’t hear for the cries of pain from the Raven as she shuddered and shook. The sailor grabbed the pry bar he’d dropped earlier and swung it at Fire Light, clipping the unicorn on the horn and sending his shrieking in pain to the deck. The magic winked out, but horribly, so did the only means of support for the barrel.

In his haste to fight off the mage, Salty realised too late he hadn’t properly secured the end of the hoist line and the barrel dropped like a stone, down into the hold where it smashed into the decking with a deafening crack which reverberated through the whole ship. The brown and cream stallion rushed to the edge of the hatch and stared in horror at the lurid green slime that had exploded all over the Ravens interior, seeping, running and soaking into her very body.

The ship screamed.

Pitching and rolling, the Raven howled and screeched in unimaginable torment. High above the rigging began to snap, the sails rippling unnaturally under some unseen pressure. Beneath Salty’s hooves, the main deck itself cracked and heaved, the sound of splintering wood, sharp and clear. He reached the wheel, hanging on to it as he tried desperately to calm the ship, but there was nothing he could do…the Raven was falling from the sky.

Wind whistled by as the ship plummeted towards the surface of the sea below, the groaning and cracking of the hull reverberating through the vessel as she began, inexorably, to break apart. Salty hung on, calling to her, pleading with her to try, just…to try…

Whether she heard him, if she could understand, he would never know. With an explosion of sound, the Raven ploughed into the pure blue waters of the sea, turning the tranquil scene into one of abject terror and horror.

The masts creaked, moaned and then finally split with a noise that made Salty squeeze his eyes shut in fright. Water sprayed over the deck, deluging everything and pouring into the open hatch of the hold. The Raven cried out in pain, howling her fear to the world around her as her timbers broke apart, sending seawater pouring into the lower deck. Salty, drenched from muzzle to tail, looked up to see Doc Bright Days, hanging onto the railing outside the Captain’s cabin,

“Doc!” Salty yelled, “We’ve got ter get the longboat o’er the side an’ save who we can.” He could feel his heart skip a beat as the reality of the unimaginable situation began to dawn on him, “She won’t last much longer!”

The charcoal stallion nodded his head weakly, “I’ll do what I can…Salty, here…take the key.”

Salty hurried up to him, “What ye be talkin’ about, Doc? We don’t ‘ave time, she be fillin’ up fast.”

Bright Days reached forward and grabbed him, “Listen to me, Salty. You take that key, you go below to the stern...” the doctor let out a wracking cough, “There’s… there’s a box, a gold and black box. Use the key, the…the ship’s…” he collapsed to his knees, “For the Goddesses sake…just go!”

Salty looked back over his shoulder. The deck was slowly sinking towards the water line, the shuddering and groaning intensifying as the Raven gradually began to go down by the bow. Taking a steadying breath, Salty ran for the aft hatch and headed down the steps into the now eerily lit mid-deck. Down again, down to the lower deck he ran, this time running straight into freezing seawater nearly up to his neck, while light from the gaps in the decking all around him let in the bright sunshine. It was a surreal experience, and utterly terrifying. Salty pushed on, all the while his heart pounding in his chest as the cold water soaked him, rising higher and higher by the minute. Goddess damn it, he didn’t even know what the hell he was looking for! A box? He’d been all round the ship, ever since he’d been a young lad he’d…no…no, there was a place, a place near the rudder steering gear, a tiny room nopony ever went in. He’d wondered what it was at the time of course, but it hadn’t seemed particularly important, or interesting - he’d assumed it was just another part of the ships mechanisms. Now, it seemed his only hope.

Salty pushed on, the water climbing steadily around him. At one point, he had to duck under one of the ship’s beams. Normally it was just a quick bob of the head, but now he had to submerge his whole body. The taste of salt water was strong, bitter, stinging his eyes and making his nose tingle. His heart felt like it was in his throat; surely he was near now? If he didn’t reach the box soon, he’d likely never get out. In fact the bow…He shook his head, pushing the thought away. He could do this, he had to do this!

A voice came to him. It was cold, weak…distant, but he couldn’t make out the words. It was the Raven; she was calling to him, crying out to him. But what could he do? Tears stung his eyes and he wiped them away roughly. The ship needed him and he’d let her down. He should have taken those barrels out the first time he knew they were leaking. What a fool he’d been! He deserved to drown, he deserved to go down with the ship he’d…

There! There it was! Dear Goddesses, it was like a ray of sunlight at the end of a long dark tunnel. It was the small room! Salty took the long iron key and shoved it roughly into the lock. It turned. There was a heavy sound of a catch sliding back and then the door partially fell open with the angle of the ship. Pulling it open the rest of the way hurriedly, Salty could see a box inside just as Doctor Bright Days and the Captain had described. It was black, jet black, with fine gold inlay…strangely beautiful in its own way. Giving himself a shake, he tried to lift it out but the box was firmly attached to the surrounding timber, with only the keyhole in the front of it allowing any hope of getting at whatever was inside.

Taking a deep breath, Salty tried to steady his galloping nerves. He lifted the key once again, sliding it in, turning it. The lid popped open with a barely audible hiss, letting out wisps of white steam into the air. Cautiously, the stallion peered into the box…

It was a crystal, a small, multicoloured, shimmering crystal. It was…beautiful, simply…beautiful. He couldn’t think of any other word to describe it, but he knew that this, for whatever reason, was valuable to the Raven, the Captain and the Doctor. Salty reached in and lifted it out carefully, placing the precious object in the small pouch he had around his neck. It was warm to the touch, tingling his hooves and sending a feeling peculiar sense of calm throughout his body. Suddenly a sense of urgency and drive surged through him, and with a neigh, the brown and cream stallion turned round and began his headlong rush back to the stairs.

Salty hurried, pushing through the water that was now mere inches from the ceiling. It was so cold! Dear Goddesses, as clear and as pure as the water was, he didn’t want to die down here, he had to get out! Panic started to wend its icy tendrils around his heart as he faltered, but then Salty accidentally touched the bag. It seemed to respond to him, the wave of calm and reassurance calling to him like a mothers caress. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and plunged under the water.

Hooves pushing hard, his legs strong and confident, Salty swam forward. Seconds passed, but at last he reached the steps to the mid-deck. He pushed on. To his horror, the mid-deck too was all but full submerged and he could feel his lungs burning, screaming for air as he swam, turning, heading upward, up towards the hatch and the sunlight, that blessed orb of Celestia.

Salty’s muzzle broached the surface in a plume of water and gasping breaths. Air…blessed, blessed air! He gulped it in, filling his lungs with that most precious gift which he’d never fully appreciated until now, but with a shout of triumph, he managed to struggle to the lines securing the longboat. The main deck was awash, the water swirling loose items around his legs, bumping into him as he fought to free the ropes holding the boat down. He looked around,

“Doc? DOC! Where are you?”

But there was no sign, no sign of anypony but him. Salty’s heart felt like it was going to burst, the tears pouring down his face…it was dream, all a dream…no…a nightmare! He was going to wake up, like from one of those falling dreams he used to have, but…this was…

He touched the pouch, the crystal within once again sending a feeling of warmth into the pony’s heart. Steeling himself, Salty gave his mane a heard shake and set to work. In short order, the last line finally gave and with a thump of wood banging against wood, the longboat rocked free. It was too much to try and get it over the side now, in fact, there was no more side, only…the sea. The lone sailor pulled himself into the longboat, and waited for the Raven to sink below him, passing down into the dark cold depths. The decks were fully submerged now, the Captain’s cabin and the quarterdeck disappearing inch by inch as the seconds passed. Eventually, Salty pushed himself away from the place he’d called home for countless years, watching her sink slowly and almost majestically below the near perfectly stiff waters. The masts were the last to go, with the small black pinafore bearing the white painted eye of the Raven, slipping beneath the surface until, with a final bubble of trapped air, the old girl…was gone.

Emotion took him. Anger, rage, hopelessness, each and every sensation fighting for attention and all leading him to nearly tipping the longboat over, boiled through Salty’s mind. Where were the crew? Why hadn’t the Doctor brought any of them out? They’d…they’d gone down with her, to be with her forever in the dark depths of the ocean, leaving him behind…alone. Salty screamed and raged at the sky, cursing Celestia, cursing Luna, cursing all the gods. Why had this happened? WHY?! Finally, exhausted, he fell back into the longboat and wiped the tears from his eyes, his hoof falling against a cloth bag with a dull thump.

Salty sat up and stared at it. This wasn’t part of the longboats normal equipment - that was normally kept secure in the locker at the rear of the longboat for emergencies. No, this was something different, recent. Curiously, he opened the bag carefully and looked inside. Within was a small piece of paper, a pouch, and a long thin box. The paper was water stained, but still legible, written in very shaky writing. Salty read on…

Salty,

I pray to Celestia that you found the heart of the Ravens Eye. Keep it safe and never forget your old shipmates. We will live on forever in your heart and your memory.

May the Goddesses bless you,

Bright Days

Salty folded the paper back up and held it to his muzzle as he wept, for Bright Days, for his friends, and for his ship, his beloved Raven. Salty shook the tears away and opened the other items. Inside the box was a long stemmed clay pipe, and in the pouch - tobacco and a small tinderbox. That above everything else hit him the hardest. Doc Bright Days, the charcoal pony he had known since the first day he came aboard, had given him something so small and yet so incredibly personal, knowing that he himself would never be able to use it again. Salty put it away for later, moving to the rear of the boat and opened the storage locker. There, as always, was water, dried food and navigational equipment. Thank the Goddesses he knew how to navigate by the stars. He wasn’t far from the Llamalian coast, and with the clear sky and calm seas…he might just make it.

Setting up the small sail, Salty checked the compass and headed out for land. His heart was heavy, the weight of the memories of his dead shipmates a burden that only he could bear, and only he could truly understand. That night, beneath the stars, Salty lit the pipe and breathed out the smoke into the cold evening air. It wasn’t much, it could never be enough, but to him, right there in that small boat on the vast ocean, watching the curling blue smoke drifting away was his way of saying goodbye…watching the souls of his friends sail away into the blue seas of forever.

Chapter Thirty Three - Ramifications

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

RAMIFICATIONS

The whole vessel was deathly silent, as if the ancient ship herself were listening in shocked silence along with her crew. All of them stared open mouthed at the brown and white stallion as he finished his tale and sat down on his haunches before slugging back a mouthful of brandy. Helplessly, Salty turned to his Captain and gave a weak smile before Gretel finally broke the spell,

“Salty…” she wet her lips, only just realising how dry they’d become, “You were…”

“Aye.” He nodded, “I be the sole survivor. The rest o’ me shipmates, me skipper, me beloved Raven…they be sleepin’ now, down in the deep.” The old stallion looked up at her, his eyes wet with tears, “There ne’er be a day that goes by where I don’t wonder why I still be ‘ere and not with them. Sometimes…sometimes I wish I were sailin’ with the old girl in the seas o’ the next world.”

Haggis, for once away from the wheel, walked up and laid a hoof on Satly’s shoulder, “You will one day old friend.” He nodded, “One day, but until then, I hope you’ll take the company of the shipmates you have here and drink the health of the Revenge and her crew.”

“Aye…” Salty smiled, wiping his muzzle. He raised his glass, “Aye, I’ll drink ter that.”

The room echoed with a rousing cheer as the crew surged forward, surrounding the old sailor and barraged him with hugs and good natured teasing. That was, until somepony remembered the free bar and then like some sudden rogue wave, the thirsty sailors descended on the terrified barmares. Gretel decided it was time to disappear, hauling Salty, Doc and Strata free,

“My cabin. Now.”

The four of them forgotten by the mass of happy sailors, the small group of ponies headed up to the relative peace and quiet of the deck and into Gretel’s cabin. There she pulled out the last of her best brandy and set glasses out for them all before sitting down in her chair. Before her, Salty looked as white as a sheet, his ears twitching nervously. The Captain pushed the bottle towards him,

“Do the honours Salty, don’t stand on ceremony.”

“A…Aye, Cap’n” he stammered.

Gretel watched the brandy flowing out into each glass, each and every drop like liquid gold, reminding her in some terrible way of the poison that wondrous ship had held in her belly. She shuddered. Salty…Salty, Salty, Salty…what sights he had seen, what awful things he had experienced, and yet he was here alive and well. Was the story exaggerated? Was it a spin on an old sailors yarn? No…there was something in the telling of that story, an honesty, a feeling of loss and abandonment, a sense of self loathing at himself for not acting sooner. Salty blamed himself for the loss of that ship, the ship that had been his home and, in some strange way, his one love. Maybe it was the same with Haggis.

Gretel sighed and looked up into Salty’s eyes, “Was all of that true? All of it?”

“Aye Cap’n,” Salty replied, “As Celestia be me witness.”

The Captain nodded, “This…crystal…where is it now?”

Salty blanched, “I cannot say, Cap’n. I made a promise ter…”

“Salty,” Gretel said levelly, “I am your Captain, and, I hope, your friend. I hope you know you can trust me. But, I respect the trust the Raven placed in you. If you won’t tell me, at least tell me it’s safe.”

He nodded, “Aye. It’s safe Cap’n, safe as it can be.”

“It’s at Pickles’ place isn’t it.”

Salty’s eyes bulged, “What? Cap’n! How did you…?”

“-Because all the sailors on this ship use that place as a bank” Gretel cut in, “Goddess only knows why, but I suppose they’re…honest…of a sort.” She leaned forward, “Salty, listen, I want to tell you something that I want you to promise to keep secret, at least for now.”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

Gretel looked the old sailor right in the eyes, “Swear it on the memory of the Raven.”

“I…” Salty looked stricken, glancing at Strata and Doc then back to the Captain, “Aye, I swears it.”

“The same goes for you two as well.” Gretel said addressing the others, “If I find any of you have breathed a word of this, I’ll have you off this ship as soon as I can - if I don’t hang you first.”

Strata glanced at Doc, his face paling, before the two of them nodded as one.

“Good.” Gretel clopped her hooves on the table top and took a deep cleansing breath before continuing, “Salty, you’ve been honest with me and it’s only fair that I am with you.” She looked him in the eyes, “The Revenge was launched without her heart.” Salty’s eyes went wide in surprise as the Captain continued, “I don’t know if it’s possible, it’s a long shot, but if your story is true and the Raven’s heart is truly at Spurs Anvil, I have to ask you: would you give her heart to the Revenge?”

Salty looked shocked. What was he to say to that? To give the heart, the only connection he had to the Raven, to the Captain? But…it wasn’t really for the Captain was it? It was for the ship, the Revenge.

“Captain,” Doc interjected, “aren’t we leaping a little here? The Revenge seems perfectly happy without this ‘heart’ thing, and before you say anything, yes, Strata has told me what it is.”

The Captain looked to Strata, “And you? What do you think?”

The unicorn scratched his chin and gave a half smile, “Truthfully, Captain, I don’t know what would happen. To put a heart crystal that’s from another ship into a vessel that already has her soul…” he shrugged and waggled his eyebrows, “I just don’t know! There’s no record of it ever happening so far as I know.”

“Then speculate, Mister Strata!” Gretel said irritably, “You’re the nearest we’ve got to an expert, and…” she took a swallow of her brandy before raising an eyebrow at him, “I do value your knowledge.”

He actually looked worried, his expression telling her that he genuinely didn’t know,

“I’m sorry Captain,” he said shaking his head, “I simply have no idea. I suppose the two could blend together and make a whole, but they could also feasibly clash and create an unstable entity with two ‘personalities’ so to speak, each fighting the other for dominance.”

“But the heart is what makes the ship…” Gretel waved a hoof, searching for a word, “’alive’, isn’t it? And the ‘soul’ of the ship, her body, retains her memory.”

Strata coughed, “Well, that’s a very simplistic interpretation, yes, but…”

“But what?” Gretel said becoming annoyed by his evasiveness, “If the heart is the ships mind, then the memories would complement it wouldn’t it?”

Doc stepped forward, “Gretel, please, I think your excitement over the prospect of gaining a heart for the Revenge is affecting your judgement. You have to consider the risk to the Revenge as well as whether it would be something she’d actually want. Just as importantly, what about Salty?” He leaned a hoof on the table, “The Raven’s Eye placed her trust and faith in her helmspony. How would you feel if the Revenge asked the same of you, and then somepony asked you to hoof over her heart? Would you do it?”

Gretel stared at him angrily. What the hell did he know? He wasn’t the Captain, he didn’t understand what it was like to have a bond with the ship the way she did, and an incomplete bond at that. When Salty had talked about the heart, and then to actually find out he had it…dear Goddess, it was taking all of her will power just to contain herself. Excitement burned in Gretel’s veins like fire, the thrill of adventure calling to her. To make her ship whole, as she should have been at the time of the Empire…how could anypony say no to that?! But still, as much as she hated to admit it, Doc had a point. The more she thought about, the more she looked into those sad old eyes of the brown and cream stallion…she sighed...it would be like kicking a foal. She couldn’t do that to him, it would be like stealing the very memory of love from somepony she care about.

“No.” Gretel shook her head sorrowfully, “Salty, I’m sorry. Forgive me, I got carried away and should have considered your feelings. The Raven’s heart belongs to her beloved helmspony.” She passed him another brandy, “Keep her safe, Salty.”

The old sailor nodded, his eyes staring off into some unseen past.

“On to the next topic of conversation,” Gretel said suddenly, trying to change the mood and also divert her own attention from the ache in her heart, “This business about unicorns.” She thumped a hoof on the table, “It appears to be, I’m surprised to hear myself saying, an absolute load of bollocks.”

Strata nudged Doc, “Told you!”

“But…” Salty chipped in, “Fire Light, that unicorn, ‘e…” he trailed off. What had the unicorn done? He’d brought aboard some barrels of venom which they knew, they all knew, were deadly. They’d all had a hoof in collecting that evil fluid for the mage, and yet nopony had thought about the risk to the Raven, had they? No, all they’d thought about, including himself, had been bits. But then, the barrel…if he’d tied it off, if he’d gotten rid of them when he first knew they’d been leaking…

Salty rubbed his eyes. His body was trembling, as it did whenever he thought of that time,

“Cap’n, that thing were poisoning the crew, I saw ‘im.”

Gretel nodded to the blue stallion with the wire framed spectacles, “Doc? Any thoughts?”

Doc sat on his haunches and nodded slowly, “I’m sorry Salty, I don’t think he was.”

Salty stared at him incredulously, “I saw ‘im!”

“I know you did,” Doc said taking off his spectacles and rubbing his muzzle, “and I wouldn’t pretend to know with absolute certainty exactly what that unicorn was up to. However, from what you’ve said, I believe that on the balance of probabilities, he most likely wasn’t trying to murder the crew. That said, I will hasten to add that none of us are ever likely to know the true story behind Fire Lights intentions.”

Doc took a mouthful of his brandy before continuing,

“I know a little of the history from that time, more specifically a classic story which new ships surgeons are taught as a warning from history. The ‘Fade’ as Salty knew it, was a plague that had numerous names: ‘Green Death’, ‘Lung Rot’, to name just two. Essentially though, they all referred to the same thing. It would appear every decade or so, mostly confined to coastal areas, but would disappear again in a few months. Deaths were most common amongst the young, the weak, the elderly and so on. One year however, everything changed, and the plague became particularly virulent. Nopony knows why, although I have my own suspicions.” He scratched his mane, “Anyway, the Llamalian Empire was at its height then, and the worst hit by the plague by far. If you look past all the prophesies of doom and religious ‘retribution’ nonsense written in the histories, you’ll find that the Empire was mostly built up around the coast where the population was concentrated.” He shrugged, “Fertile ground for the Fade to spread.”

Gretel peered at blue stallion, “That’s all very interesting Doc, but it doesn’t tell us what that unicorn was doing with the barrels.”

“Oh, well, that can be easily explained.” Doc said with a sardonic smile.

Gretel looked puzzled, “It can?”

Doc nodded, “Yes, you see there was a belief at that time that the venom extracted from Wyvern’s, already noted for having medicinal properties, could be distilled and used as a cure for the plague. Whether it actually worked or not, nopony could ever say with any certainty; the plague disappeared as fast it began and so far as I know, has never reappeared since.” He shrugged, “I think it may have had more to do with an improvement in public hygiene standards and the Llamalian Empire’s new sewerage system that they brought in, together with aquaducts for fresh water.”

Gretel blinked in surprise, “You mean, you think that this ‘Fire Light’ was actually…”

“-Trying to help?” Doc cut in, “Yes, I think he was. Although it’s doubtful he did little more than…”

“Oh Goddesses…” It was Salty, “What…what ‘ave I done? Me friends…me ship…I killed ‘em! I killed all of ‘em!” The old stallion was shaking in distress, “Me old girl, me Raven…Oh, love, forgive me…” He suddenly sprang to his hooves, “It’s my fault! IT’S ALL MY FAULT!”

In a wild flurry of hooves, Salty rushed for the door.

“STOP HIM!” Gretel yelled, but Salty’s hoof was already on the door.

A glow of magic quickly surrounded the doorframe, holding it fast while the brown and cream stallion pulled desperately at it,

“LET ME BE!”

“Salty! For the Goddesses sake, get a bloody grip of yourself, pony!” Gretel advanced on him and gripped his shoulders, “You didn’t know any of this, and we still don’t know for certain exactly what Fire Light was really doing, its only speculation. The only one who knew the truth went down with the ship! But you did more than anypony to try to save her, and you did, you saved her heart.” She stared into the distraut stallion’s eyes, “You saved the ship, Salty, you saved the Raven.”

“I…” Salty hung his head, “Me shipmates…”

“They were already dead,” Doc said quietly, “there was no known cure, Salty and on board a vessel, it would have gone through the crew like wildfire. Death was usually within hours, a day or two at most. How Bright Days stayed on his hooves all that time was a miracle, but the Captain’s right, you did your duty and saved the heart of your ship. If you hadn’t, she’d have been lost forever.”

“But ‘ow come I be fine, ‘ow come I be alive and they be dead?”

Doc shrugged, “Natural immunity, diet, who can say?” he smiled sadly, “If I knew the answer, Salty, i’d be a better doctor than I am now. I’m just a ships surgeon, nothing more.”

Salty looked ready to collapse. Gretel nodded to Doc and Strata who took him to one side and spoke to him gently whilst he sobbed quietly. She opened the door to the deck,

“Mister Haggis? Would you be so good as to come here for a minute?”

“Aye, Cap’n.”

The helmspony trotted into the cabin following Gretel. “Salty’s a little upset right now,” she said looking at the old patchwork helmspony, “would you take him below and spend some time with him?”

Haggis nodded quietly, “Aye Cap’n, I’ll do that.”

Gretel watched sadly as the two old friends walked slowly from her cabin and onto the deck. Closing the door behind them she felt like kicking herself. Why the hell had she brought up that subject in front of him? She should have realised how he would react if…Damn it! She wasn’t a mind reader! She couldn’t have known what Doc was going to say, could she? Still, she should have had at least some idea after hearing the old sailor’s tale; so much of it just didn’t add up. But like the Raven’s Eye herself, the truth behind it all had been lost to the sea…forever.

“Gretel?”

The red coated mare looked up wearily, “Yes, Doc?”

“What about unicorns on ship?”

“Unicorns?” Gretel’s mind was reeling with everything that had been going on. She needed time, time to think about all of this. She leaned back in her chair. There something…something in the tale that…and then it came to her,

“Wind mages.”

“What?” Doc asked in surprise.

“Wind mages.” Gretel said again, “You heard Salty’s story, he said that the Raven had been looking to take a wind mage aboard. So, just what the hell is a wind mage? Other than what it sounds like of course.”

Strata raised his hoof, “It’s a unicorn who can control wind, or more specifically, one who specialises in wind.”

“How come I’ve never heard of them before?” Gretel asked.

“Probably because of the widespread belief that we’re bad luck I suppose.” Strata grinned expansively.

“Oh Goddesses…” Gretel facehoofed, “The most notorious warning story about unicorns on ships comes from…”

Everypony in the room agreed,

“Salty.”

Gretel needed another brandy, “Goddess dammit! Will somepony please tell me how the hell I keep running out! It’s like the blasted ships soaking it up!”

“Her Captain is.” Doc muttered, receiving a withering glare from the red mare.

“One of these days, Doc,” Gretel said, her voice lowering dangerously, “I’m going to take you over my knee and give you damned good spanking.”

Strata burst out laughing while Doc flushed as red as a beetroot.

“Never Mind! I don’t want to know!” Gretel called over her shoulder, heading for the door, “I need to have a word with the crew about this bloody unicorn nonsense and then we can…”

There was a knock at the door - it was the huge yellow mare, Cleat, with her customary expression of barely restrained rage,

“Captain, there’s a visitor here to see you.” She peered over her shoulder, “It’s a pegasus.”

“Gentlecolts…” Gretel nodded to the two stallions and trotted out to meet the visitor.

The ship was nearly ready for departure, the decks scrubbed and clean, rigging repaired and ropes renewed. Across on the other dock, the Wind Wraith looked like a new vessel altogether; even her sails looked new. Perhaps there was something in what Doc had said about the connection between the ship and her crew. There was certainly a connection between her and the Revenge. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what poor Salty had gone through with losing the Ravens Eye. It must have been like losing a loved one, like losing…she shook her head. The image of that blasted white pest appeared in her mind at the worst possible times. Fortunately, the grinning pegasus on her deck was likely to be an efficient, if possibly unwelcome distraction. Come to think of it, how the hell had this…mare…found them?

Cleat snarled beside her, her hoof reaching for her cutlass,

“Who the hell said you could come aboard? I told you to wait on the dockside!”

“Yeah, well that was sooo boring.” the cheeky purple pegasus replied, “I wanted to see what a flying ship looked like at the business end.”

“You’ll get the business end of my blade, you little…”

Gretel cleared her throat and lifted a hoof, “-thank you Cleat, you may leave our guest with my now. Please attend to your duties.”

“Aye, aye Cap’n.”

The Master at Arms stalked away, casting a warning glance over her shoulder at the newcomer who gave her a wink with one of her big magenta eyes,

“Phwoar! Now there’s a big lass!”

Gretel gave the pegasus a hard look, her voice carrying all the authority of her position,

“Who are you, and what do you want?”

“Straight to business eh?” The pegasus shrugged, “Nopony know how to have a bit of fun these days.” She sat on her haunches and looked at Gretel levelly, “My name is Flight Captain Harrier, I believe we have a mutual acquaintance, Captain Gretel of the King Sombra’s Revenge.”

Gretel heart leaped in her chest, “You know who I am, so what? And who is this ‘mutual acquaintance?” She was expecting the answer…

“Oh, a certain Mister Chalk Dust and his friend Mister Bracken.” The pegasus replied, “Apparently, they were looking for you.”

“Looking…”

“-For you, yes.” Harrier nodded, “Although why they thought they’d find you at the fortress of the four winds is beyond me.”

Gretel’s heart leaped, “The fortress? Dear Goddess, what the hell made him think…” she facehoofed. Of course, she’d told him they went there from time to time to make deliveries of exotic goods, hadn’t she? What a bloody fool!

“Quite a hoofful isn’t he!” Harrier chuckled, “Cute though…” she gave the Captain a knowing smile, “I bet he’s got a soft…”

“-I asked what you wanted, Flight Captain.” Gretel snapped, “Are you going to tell me or not? I have work to do.”

“Oh!” Harrier said tapping herself on the side of the head, “I nearly forgot!” She reached into her pannier, extracting a small scroll, “Here…”

Gretel opened the message, casting a withering glance at the smirking creature before her. Who in Equestria was this? And how did she know Chalky? She didn’t like the sound of this one little bit…

Dear Captain Gretel,

I wish to invite you to meet with myself and my colleagues to discuss a mutually beneficial trading proposal. Should you wish to accept, please inform the bearer of this message who will arrange the meeting on our behalf.

Kind Regards,

D

“’D’?” Gretel turned the scroll over in her hooves before hoofing it back to Harrier, “This tells me nothing.”

“Well of course, duh!” Harrier sniggered, “If the message fell into the wrong hooves, they’d know who we were and what we were doing, silly!”

Gretel felt her eye begin to twitch. This…this pegasus…thing! Wait, she knew a pegasus already…Cyclone! She may be able to communicate properly with this blasted creature.

“Captain Gretel,” the purple pegasus mare said suddenly, “Colonel Dray has invited you to meet with him. We are what you might like think of as…freedom fighters.”

“Celestians…” Gretel said levelly, “Haven’t you heard? The war’s over, finished, ended, you lost Flight Captain. Go home and stop playing soldiers.”

The pegasus shook her head, her snow white mane blowing in the light breeze, “It’s not over, Captain Gretel, not over by a long shot. Your coltfriend knows it too, that’s why he’s with us.”

Gretel narrowed her eyes. “Like Bollocks he is! You said he was looking for me, so what’s really going on here, Harrier? Looking to use Chalky as leveredge?” She laughed ironically, “Yes! That’s it, isn’t it! ‘Do as we say or we’ll harm him.’” Gretel leaned forward and snarled viciously, “Now you listen to me, you little bitch…if anything, ANYTHING happens to chalky, I’ll annihilate you and your scabrous friends from the face of Equestria. There’ll be nothing left of you to bury, not even one lousy feather. Do we understand each other?”

Harrier gave her a wink, “That’s the spirit!” Gretel had to stop herself from lunging out and strangling the damnable creature. “We won’t harm Chalky, Captain, he’s a soldier of the Princess, like me.” Harrier’s tone was suddenly serious, “But we need him right now. In fact we need every hoof we can get and if that means using him as a means to make you come to us, then…” she shrugged, “Yep, we will.”

Gretel’s anger flared, “You flying rat! I’ll…”

“Ah, ah!” Harrier said, holding up a hoof, “I need an answer, Captain. The army will wait until I return and then they’re moving out. The choice is yours, you can meet us now, or not. If you decided to find us later…” she shrugged, “well, I don’t know, that’s up to the Colonel.”

Gretel stomped her hoof in fury, “You come aboard my ship uninvited, you have the audacity to use my…my crewpony’s name to force me to do your bidding…”

“-It’s your choice, Captain.” Harrier interrupted, “What’s your decision?”

Gretel took a step back, suddenly unsure. To rush off with the pegasus to find Chalk would probably endanger the whole ship and her crew, but to abandon him could mean…She sighed,

“Give me the location.”

“At a girl!” Harrier laughed, and hoofed over a roughly written note with the location on it. She had a few days, no more. She had to think about this. Gretel closed her eyes,

“Harrier?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Get the buck off my ship.”

Gretel stalked back to her cabin as the pegasus flew away into the cloud. That damned creature! That bloody, damned, vile little bitch! How dare she? How dare she?! Gretel slammed the door shut only to have somepony knock on it a second later,

“WHAT?!”

Salty balked, stepping back in shock.

“Salty? Oh, look…I’m sorry,” Gretel rubbed her eyes with her foreleg, “come in, please.”

Goddess, what the hell was it now? Couldn’t something go right for once, just bloody once? Gretel sank into her chair, staring into the eyes of the old sailor and…Mister Haggis? Oh Goddess…Doc and Strata had come in too. Hell, why not make a party of it?! She waved a hoof,

“Please Salty, you wanted to speak to me?”

“Um…aye, Cap’n.” the old sailor began, looking to his friend for support. He cleared his throat, “I…that is, Haggis an’ me been talkin’ see.”

“Yes?”

“Er…an’…I hope ye don’t mind Cap’n, but we been speakin’ with the Revenge an’…well…I’ve decided,” Salty gave a shy smile, “I wants ‘er to ‘ave the Raven’s heart.”

Gretel froze. Her eyes going wide, “Salty…”

Salty held up a hoof, “No, Cap’n, look, Haggis an’ me, we both be helmsponies see, an’ we can see ‘er, feel ‘er like, y’know, through the helm. I knows from me days aboard the Raven that the Revenge be missin’ a part o’ ‘erself, see. But…Look, I don’t know if’n this will ‘elp ‘er, but…I be willin’ ter try.” He looked at Haggis, who nodded his agreement, “The Revenge be willin’ ter try too, if’n it be agreeable with yerself o’course Cap’n.”

Gretel didn’t know what to say. For Salty to do this, and so soon, it must have been the Revenge herself, with a little help from the enigmatic Haggis no doubt, that had brought him round to making such a monumental decision. Salty looked…relieved somehow, as if a weight had been lifted from him. She guessed it was probably all the years of living with what had happened, and not knowing what to do with the heart of the Raven. She walked over to him and wrapped her forelegs around him,

“Salty…you are a greater pony than I could ever be.”

“Oh!” he blushed, “Cap’n, I…”

She leaned down and planted a kiss on his muzzle, “Goddess bless you, Salty.” Gretel felt close to tears, “I’m so sorry I tricked you into telling your story before the crew, I hadn’t realised just how much you’d been through before you came to us. I know now why my father treasured you so much and why the Raven loved you as much as she did.”

Salty sniffed back a tear,

“Thank ye Cap’n, that means more ‘n I can say.”

Gretel tousled his mane with a smile before addressing Strata, “Mister Strata, you are welcome aboard my vessel as her wind mage, for as long as you wish.”

The indigo stallion scrubbed his mane as Doc nudged him happily, “Well, um…thanks, er…Cap’n.”

Doc lifted his hoof, “So what now, Captain?”

Harrier’s message replayed through Gretel’s mind: Chalky, the army, all that stuff about trying to find her. Oh, that bloody fool! What was he thinking, traipsing into the mountains?! She shook her head as she walked back to her table and unfurled the map. Chalk wasn’t in any danger, at least, not yet, and the ship…the ship always came first. Besides, nopony threatened her…nopony! And at least she had a name…‘Colonel Dray’ was it? Yes…she’d catch up with the good Colonel, and then he’d see the folly of threatening the Captain of the King Sombra’s Revenge. Gretel gritted her teeth and slammed her hoof onto the map,

“Mister Haggis.”

“Aye, Cap’n?”

Gretel looked up at him from under her brows, “Lay in a course for Spurs Anvil. We’re leaving within the hour. Salty, find Captain Cyclone and send her to me. Doc, you and I are going to explain about our new wind mage to the crew. Mister Strata, you go and do…” she waved a hoof nonchalantly, “unicorn…’things’.”

Strata laughed, “Aye, aye, Cap’n!”

Chapter Thirty Four - Reunited

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

REUNITED

The dockside was cold, bitterly cold. This time of year the normally stifling heat of the port was replaced with a bone chilling drop in temperature that, if nothing else, at least had the relatively welcome side effect of reducing the ambient stink of rotting piles of waste to almost bearable levels. Like some amorphous sentient being, the roads and alleys were covered in a rolling low lying fog, the otherworldly feeling it inspired made all the more disturbing by the fact that you could actually see the white clouds pouring off the accumulated filth of decades.

Spurs Anvil had been a bustling port once, where peoples of all species and nations would visit to trade: Llamalian’s, Yakistani’s, Equestrians, Griffins, and more besides. It wasn’t long before the port had been forced to expand out into the surrounding countryside to accompany its burgeoning population and similarly growing wealth. Back then Spurs Anvil had been a living, breathing creature all of its own. The buildings were its body, the roads and alleys its arteries and veins, and throughout it all, the ports life blood - trade. Now, many of those once proud buildings had decayed and collapsed in on themselves, the warehouses, once so full of exotic goods from around the known world, these days were more likely to be full of mice and rats than crates of sweet smelling spices.

There had been cotton, silks, fine china and bolts of the most magnificently embroidered cloth. So many of the land’s ladies and gentlecolts would gather here to see the latest trending fashions from around the Crystal Empire or the Llamalian Empire. The docks, markets and merchants were awash with wondrous items in a riot of colours, with blues deep as the ocean, greens like emeralds, gold as rich as the temples of the Goddesses and reds as lush as the first bloom of on a maiden’s cheeks.

It had all gone now, mostly. Only the memories, the faded ghosts of a more prosperous time…a happier time, remained. Oh, how she would have loved to have seen it back then! The stallions in their suits and top hats, the ladies in the long gowns, hats and parasols…so magnificent, so beautiful. Pickles smiled to herself as she walked, her breath coming a little ragged today, but it was of no importance; the cold was probably just catching her chest and besides, Hay Wain’s building was just ahead. She pondered the strange creature and the dealings she’d had with him over the years. To be blunt, he was a villain, of that there was little doubt and he would more than likely be the first to simply agree with anypony who pointed that out to him. Still, he was very ‘old school’ in many respects and had a certain honourability about him that garnered a great deal of respect amongst the port’s more permanent inhabitants. Pickles had known him for many years, from the first day she’d arrived in fact. He’d never changed. The sea green mare smiled to herself demurely. Hay Wain had been quite dashing back then, if a little strange for her tastes, what with the feathers and that sharp looking beak of his. She knew she was being petty, but just couldn’t really see herself coping with that. There was something intimidating about it all that made her shiver inside. Some of her girls’ clients were griffins of course, although not many, truth be told. Most species had a tendency to stick to their own kind unless they had some itch they couldn’t scratch, and Pickles’ place was the place to get those itches well and truly scratched. Most left with a smile on their face, those that didn’t tended to do so on the end of Fix’s hooves…painfully.

Pickles’ hooves clopped along on the hard cobbles. This was one of the few areas in Spurs Anvil that anypony bothered to sweep, but then, when you owned virtually everything in the port, it didn’t do to look like you were wallowing in the same filth as everypony else.

The burly guards outside, Hay Wain’s hired thugs, didn’t even bother to ask what she was doing there. It was one of the few perks she had living in this squalid cess pool at the arse end of Equestria; not that being freely allowed to visit a noted crime boss was anything to brag about.

She walked up the steps, through the musty smelling halls and up the long flight of scarlet carpeted stairs. It had been quite a beautiful building once, but Hay Wain wasn’t that bothered by such things as replacing old carpets. The enigmatic griffin maintained everything here at a certain level, but he was the sort of creature that kept it at the level of ‘necessity’. It was necessary for example to have a carpet, so he had one, it was necessary to have lamps, so he had them. Everything had a level, and that level was, for the most part, intensely dull. Pickles could possibly have overlooked her phobia about feathers if he hadn’t been so damnably boring, but then, perhaps she was being a tad unfair. So far, Hay Wain hadn’t crossed that invisible line that would take him from respected, to hated, and in Spurs Anvil that was no easy task.

Pickles knocked on the heavy dark wood door.

“Come in.”

She pushed it open and stepped inside, closing the well made portal behind her. It was yet another reminder of the old Empire, and so typical of those times: tastefully carved with vine leaves and scenes of a land she had never seen. Most importantly, it had been made to last. Strangely, she’d never really paid much attention to the smaller details before, but now it seemed to impact on her just how much she’d been missing…

“Madam Pickles, a pleasure to see you this fine day.” Hay Wain smiled, rising from his chair and indicating a vacant seat, “Unexpected of course, but a pleasure nonetheless. If only I’d had word you would be visiting me today I would have had my assistant bring us tea and cakes. Sadly, he appears to be missing. I expect he’s taken the day off and forgotten to inform me.”

Pickles smiled, “How remiss of him, Mister Wain.” She swept her dress neatly beneath herself as she lowered her body into the seat. It was cushioned velvet, comfortable and, as always, practical. She took a deep breath, the room was chilly despite the fire that crackled and snapped in the large hearth. Of course, it didn’t help that the old griffin had left the window open. She smiled to herself; it was always open. ‘Must be a griffin thing’, she summised.

“I must say, Madam Pickles, it is quite a surprise for you to stop by these days. Although I have to say, not an unpleasant one” Hay Wain smiled, “Not in the slightest.”

“You flatter me, Mister Wain.” Pickles replied lightly, “Thank you for seeing me today, and forgive my rudeness in not sending word first.”

“Not at all,” he said walking over to his drinks cabinet, “Brandy? I have some excellent Yak brandy, aged I believe in casks some two centuries old.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Pickles said politely, “thank you, I will.”

The griffin removed the stopper from his crystal brandy decanter and poured the sparkling spirit into two equally sparkling crystal glasses,

“Forgive me for asking,” Hay Wain said politely, “but may I ask the purpose of your visit? I suspect Madam is not in the habit of making social calls to single griffins.”

He passed Pickles the glass which she took in her forehooves, earning an interested glance from the griffin,

“Mister Wain, you may recall you very kindly loaned me the money to buy my property when I first began to…’trade’ there.” She took a sip of the brandy, feeling the warmth of it slip down her throat. It was delicious, so flavourful and warming…

“Indeed,” the griffin replied, “and you will also recall I said you had no need to concern yourself with repayment due to the kindness you showed my sister when she had been…hurt.”

Pickles nodded sadly, “Thank you Mister Wain, however I don’t believe I deserve the credit you give me for what was, after all, a simple act.”

The old griffin harrumphed, “Hardly a ‘simple act’, Madam, it nearly cost you your life.” He sat back down in his chair and raised a feathery eyebrow, “Now, what’s this about…really.”

Pickles chuckled, “I’ll be straight to the point. I fear I am somewhat short on time today.” She cleared her throat, “I wish to pay the loan off and buy the property completely, including all rights and deeds.”

Hay Wain’s eyes narrowed, “I am curious as to why you would decide to do that now.” He leaned forward, resting his chin on the tips of his claws.

“Mister Wain…”

The griffin suddenly slapped his claw on the table top and reached down into a drawer, “It matters not,” he said abruptly, “of course you may. I have it here.” A few moments later, the paperwork appeared.

Pickles raised an eyebrow, “Quite a trick, Mister Wain. I thought you would have it locked away in a safe somewhere. You seem very trusting.”

Hay Wain shrugged, “I keep mostly…’personal’ documents in here, but then, who would break in here? I am a respected business griffin and a pillar of society.” He laughed, making Pickles smile too. He still had that charm, and, she noticed, the same twinkle in his eye that had turned many a girls head when he was younger.

Pickles began to take out a bag of bits from her purse, but Wain held up a claw forestalling her as he peered intently at the paperwork,

“Wait, please.” He read it through and nodded to himself, “It would appear to have already been paid in full. Interesting.” He passed her the deeds and rights to her property, “Forgive my tardiness, Madam Pickles, this should have been delivered to you some time ago. Please accept my sincerest apologies for my careless oversight.”

The sea green mare looked up at him and shook her head slowly,

“Why?”

He sniffed, “Why does the sun shine in the morning, the wind blow through the trees, and the birds fly?”

Pickles beamed at him, “Is that some sort of griffin saying?”

“No,” Hay Wain said quietly, “not particularly.” He rose from his chair and walked around to hers, “Madam Pickles, we have know each other for many years, you and I.” he took a deep breath, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

She smiled wanly, her big yellow eyes catching the firelight as she shrugged demurely, “I’m sorry, Mister Wain. There are some things that even money cannot mend.”

Hay Wain stood watching her as she sipped her brandy and stared into the fire. “There is something I’ve always wanted to ask you.” She said politely, “If I’m being too personal, please say so, but I would dearly like to know.”

The old griffin nodded, “Of course, Madam Pickles, if I can answer, I shall.”

Pickles smiled, “Your name, ‘Hay Wain’. Why an Equestrian name?”

“Ah.” He looked away for a moment then walked slowly over to the mantelpiece, nodding towards an old painting of two griffins, “My mother and father. Mother was what you might call an aberration in our family - she was half griffin, half pony.”

“A hippogriff?” Pickles said in surprise.

Hay Wain’s face took on an expression Pickles could only describe as…gentle. “Yes,” he said quietly, “and a wonderful creature she was too. Kind, loving, and generous. All the best qualities that Equestrian’s value, yes?”

Pickles nodded slowly, “Yes, very much so. Although, perhaps, in a more ideal world.”

“True,” Hay Wain replied. He gazed up at the picture, “but she was ostracised by both peoples, Equestrian and Griffin. Strange isn’t it? All that fluff about friendship and love, yet when it came to somepony who was a little different, she was treated like an outcast.” He shook his head sadly, “When I was born, I think it was a relief to my parents that I was a full griffin.” Hay Wain gently ran his claw down the frame of the picture, his voice wistful and distant, “She wouldn’t have wanted me to…to be like her…”

Pickles stood, laying a hoof upon his shoulder, “Mister Wain, I’m sorry, I’ve made you remember something painful…forgive me.”

“No, not at all.” Hay Wain took her hoof and kissed it, “It should never be painful to remember those you love.”

Pickles chuckled, “Ah, if only that were true!”

The old griffin shook his head with a wry smile, “Honestly, Madam Pickles, I had thought you would be coming here to enquire about your…friend.”

Pickles lowered her eyes together with her voice, “No, not really. I had been concerned initially I’ll admit, but I believe you and I know each other better than that after all this time.”

The griffin smiled, “Indeed we do. You may like to know however, that the party that kidnapped your friend were dealt with, and both he and one other pony appear to have gone on their way unharmed.”

Pickles’ heart leaped, “Dealt with?”

“Oh yes,” Hay Wain explained, “but not by my…associates. Our two young friends appear to have beaten them to the punch so to speak. Quite enterprising individuals I must say.”

“But…he’s safe?” she asked anxiously.

“So far as I know,” the old griffin smiled, “I hope this is good news for you.”

“It is…” Pickles sighed, “it…” she suddenly stumbled, the room lurching slightly beneath her hooves.

“Madam!” Hay Wain caught her in his claws, “Are you alright? I can call my physician to…”

“-No…” Pickles held up a hoof, “It’s alright, Mister Wain, truly. I’m afraid your wonderful brandy must have affected me a little more than I thought.”

“At least let me have a sedan chair brought round for you.” The griffin offered.

“No, please Hay Wain,” Pickles shook her head, her mane catching the sunlight as she turned toward the door, “thank you, but i’d rather walk today. It’s such a beautiful day outside.”

Hay Wain walked with her to the door as she stopped and turned to look back at him,

“I always thought you were a devilishly handsome griffin, you know. Your mother must have been so very proud of you.”

Hay Wain nodded, “I think she was, Madam Pickles, I really do.”

She smiled and bobbed her head, trotting down the stairs and out the front door, taking a quick backward glance at the once magnificent building and the old griffin watching her go from out of his window. She gave him a wave and headed back to the house, back along the hard cobbled road that ran near the dockside.

Pickles slowed her pace, walking carefully. The cobbles could be treacherous when the weather became wintry and many a pony had pulled a fetlock or chipped a hoof on the hard things. She could never really understand why the Empire had built the place like that in the first place. After all, pony hooves didn’t seem to grip too well on them unless you wore over shoes or boots. She didn’t like wearing them either, they were clunky, workponylike things that a dignified lady simply wouldn’t wear! But tonight, it was just so cold, she was beginning to wish she’d bought that Yak coat the travelling sales llama had tried to sell her. The odd fellow had been so insistent too,

“One hundred percent genuine Yak!” he’d said, “Guaranteed to keep a pony warm on even the coldest days!”

Goddesses knew how the Yak was going to keep him or herself warm with no fur. She sniffed. It was so typical of Llamalians, and no wonder their eternal enemies the Yaks were so warlike. Anypony would be if they turned your people into winter coats. Still, it had been wonderfully warm…

A rush of cold ran through her and she let out a hacking cough. Damn this weather! Why was it so bloody cold? Looking up, she could see the sun beginning to dip lower in the sky. This time of year, the dark mornings and early nights were bad for trade as many ponies simply wanted to keep warm and hibernate like bears, but that said, there were always those whose friskiness knew no bounds. And then of course, there were the old hooves, who just liked to sit and chat. She always had time for them, the ones who regailed her with their magical stories of adventures in far away lands. It made her world, her tiny brick, tile and plaster world, seem less of a prison and more of a…home.

Pickles watched the sun as it began to set, the huge orange orb gradually dropping down as if it were sinking into the sea itself. The clouds above reflected the warm rays and reflected the deep hue of Celestia’s charge out across the water. She smiled. If she looked closely, she imagine she could see sails…the old ship bringing her love back to her, the one who had left her so long ago. She shook her head. That dream had turned into a cruel awakening, hadn’t it? ‘No unicorns on ships’…she sneered. No, no unicorns, but it was fine to steal her daughter like some damned thief in the night and leave her all alone, wasn’t it.

Pickles shook her mane, trying to dislodge the unwelcome memories. It didn’t do to live in the past, nor did it do to live in the world of wishful thinking. He’d gone now, as indeed had the only one she’d felt anything for since then. It wasn’t surprising. She’d accepted long ago the fate of one such as herself: a scarred ex-slave, used and abandoned as if she meant nothing, cast away like so much…she stopped and stared…

There silhouetted by the setting sun, sails billowing in the wind, her hull sleek and refined…

“The Revenge” she whispered to herself, and quickly trotted back to the house. She had to ready things, make things just so. Maybe, just maybe he was on there! Pickles trotted up to the door, stumbling slightly, but catching herself just in time to avoid a very unladylike entrance,

“Girls! The Revenge is coming into port, make sure everythings in order now, look lively!” She turned to Frilly and Jade, “Send Fix to meet the ship when she docks, tell him to ask Gretel to come and see me, tell her it’s important.”

Jade bobbed a curtsy, “Yes ma’am”

“Good girl.” Pickles smiled, heading for the stairs, “Oh, and send some…”

The room suddenly span horribly, the motion making her stomach churn. It was all she could do to stop herself from being sick. Frilly rushed over and caught her as she began to topple over,

“Fix! FIX! Get over here! Help me with the Ma’am.”

The lumbering lunk of a pony thudded over with his customary silence and hoisted Pickles onto his back before heading up the stairs with her slung like a sack of potatoes. She would have laughed if she’d only had the strength.

********************

Pickles lay on her bed, her breathing laboured. Goddesses she was tired. All she wanted to do now was rest, but Gretel would be here soon and there was still business to attend to. Frilly and Jade were buzzing around her like worker bees with her as their queen. She chuckled at the thought, and lifted her head,

“Help me up, girls. I’ll ruin my dress lying on it like this.”

The powder blue mare, hurried to her side, her hazel eyes full of concern, “Ma’am, I don’t think you should be…” she saw Pickles’ determination and quickly relented, “Yes, ma’am.”

Frilly had been with her since she’d first arrived there as a filly - lost, frightened and alone. Her parents had been killed in a timber wolf attack on their farm and she’d simply wandered into the port one day. Pickles had tried to find her relatives, but all her enquiries had drawn a blank. Jade’s story was different, but equally tragic. She’d been sold by her parents to pay off a debt. Her ‘new husband’ had subsequently beaten her half to death and one day she’d all but crawled into Pickles home. The husband had appeared shortly afterwards but disappeared not long after he arrived. A pity nopony looked for him in the dock, but then, who would have bothered? Most of the girls here had a story - some tragic, some not so, but all of them could leave any time they wanted. Pickles’ home offered shelter, good food, good pay, and the best medical care Spurs Anvil could provide.Her girls saw her as a protective mother, one whom they cared for and treasured.

Jade brought over a cup of tea which she took gratefully. It truly was delicious, so tantalising and warming. Pickles had always appreciated good tea, and she made sure there was always a good supply on hoof. A shudder ran through her as she looked up at the two concerned mares,

“Girls, pass me my bag please.” Frilly glanced at Jade, her expression conveying her worry. Pickles smiled sadly. She didn’t want to alarm them, but this had to be done while there was still time. “Now then, Frilly, Jade, I want you to take these documents and keep them in the vault. I’ve signed over the ownership to all of you, and the establishment is to be run as a free house.”

Frilly held up a hoof, her mouth opening to speak but Pickles shook her head stopping her,

“There are stipulations, including honouring prior agreements with clients which, Jade, you have the book on. I want to leave this place in safe hooves, ladies and I know I can trust you, all of you, to carry on. Pickles’ place should be a place a mare can feel safe…” she yawned, “and protected…” Pickles leaned back in the chair, “I’m sorry girls, would you excuse me? I’m…so very tired…”

“Ma’am?” Frilly looked distraught, “I…I don’t understand, whats this all about?”

Jade paced back and forth beside her, tossing her mane. The poor girl didn’t know what to say.

“Girls, I…” Pickles stopped and stared at the open fire, the yellow flames flickering…they were so beautiful…

A loud knock on the door made them all look up in surprise as a worried looking young mare poked her head in,

“Ma’am?”

Jade pulled the door open the rest of the way in a flurry, “What?”

The newcomer opened her mouth, “It’s…”

“I’m here,” the red coated mare announced pushing into the room, “whats going on? That big lummox all but dragged me here, saying I had to hurry. What’s all the excitement about? Caught the clap have you?”

“Shut your mouth! You ignorant…!” Jade dropped into a fighting stance as she snarled at Gretel.

“Oh pull your horns in, girl,” Gretel said offhoofedly, “don’t get your tail in a knot.”

Pickles shook her head, “You never change do you?” she took a breath and waved to the other mares, “Off you go now, the good Captain and I have some things to discuss.”

Frilly stomped a hoof, “Ma’am, I’m not leaving you with her! Who know what she’ll…”

“Frilly…please.” Pickles smiled and waved to the door, “I know you’re worried for me, but I need to speak to my daughter…alone.”

Reluctantly, the powder blue mare backed out the room in silence, accompanied by a distraught looking green mare who shot Gretel a withering gaze, no doubt promising dire retribution if anything ‘untoward’ happened to their precious ‘Ma’am’. Gretel rolled her eyes, this place never changed - a house full of that kind of mare. By the Goddess how she hated coming here! And it still stank of that same bloody perfume too! She rolled her eyes,

“What is it mother?”

“And it’s nice to see you again too, dearest daughter.” Pickles waved to a chair, “Tea?”

“No thanks.” Gretel replied tartly, “Got any brandy?”

Pickles sniffed at her daughter’s lack of manners, “No. I don’t have that sort of thing in here, I find it crude. But one of the girls could bring you some from the bar…if you’re desperate.”

“Hardly” Gretel retaliated, “Now, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, I did.” Pickles shook her head, “You’re always so busy, Gretel, running that ship and flying across the skies of Equestria.” She chuckled, “How I wish I could have joined you.”

Gretel paused. She…she what? She’d wanted to… “But, mother, why didn’t you? Dad didn’t…I mean, that is I…” What did she mean? After all this time, she’d never really asked. Pickles had always been the enemy, the whore house owner, the tart who’d left her father. Now, she was saying this?

“Your father’s love was always his ship, Gretel.” Pickles smiled, shaking her head sadly, “Not me.” She leaned forward to take the tea pot, but her hoof began to tremble and she quickly put it down, “Sorry, would you mind?”

Gretel’s brows drew down questioningly, but she reached out with her forehooves and topped up the cup with the steaming tea.

Pickles wiped her face with her lace hankie, “When you were a little filly, you felt the pull of that ship and I knew…” she stared at the tea distantly, “I knew there was no place for me.”

“But why not?” Gretel said irritably, “Because you’re a unicorn? That was all a crock of crap, a stupid misinterpretation of…”

“-I know that!” Pickles cut in, her eyes flashing in the firelight, “Have you heard Salty’s story? The real story?”

“I…yes, recently,” Gretel stuttered, surprised by her mother’s sudden change in demeanor, “that’s why we’ve come back to Spurs Anvil.”

“You’ve come for the heart, havent you.” It wasn’t a question.

Gretel was livid, “You…you knew about that?! All this time, you had the heart of the Raven and you said NOTHING?!”

Large yellow eyes look up at her from under long lashes, “Correct.” Pickles placed her cup back on its saucer, her usual unflappable self was back, “Salty is one of our clients and he asked me to look after the heart of the Raven for him. I didn’t know what it was until he’d had a few drinks one night and poured out his own heart to me; the whole sordid story.” She shook her head, “Gretel, I’ve know for years the story of the Raven’s Eye. Your father knew it too, but he kept up that fantastical story about unicorns on ships being bad luck and the ‘amended’ tale of the last voyage of the Ravens Eye spread like wildfire.”

All the colour drained from Gretels’ face as she took in what her mother was saying, “You mean…Dad knew the story was bogus, but kept it up anyway? But why? He always warned me about it!”

Pickles smiled and lifted her hoof, tapping the horn on her head meaningfully. Gretel’s eyes went wide as realisation dawned on her and all that it meant. Her father, her own beloved father, had lied to her…all this time…she began to feel a stinging in the corners of her eyes. Pickles shook her head and leaned forward to console her daughter,

“Gretel, please, I don’t want to talk about the past now, I have to tell you something important.” She took a breath, “Hay Wain didn’t have anything to do with Bracken’s abduction. I found out that both he and Chalk Dust got away from those cloaked thugs. I don’t what’s happened to two of them since, but at least we know they escaped.” She sighed, “I wanted to tell you, because I know how much that pretty young unicorn means to you.”

“Mum…” Gretel murmered hanging her head, “I know…”

“You know?”

The red mare nodded, “I had a message from the remnants of the Celestian army. Bracken and Chalky are with them now. They’re safe.”

Pickles leaned back and let out a gasp, “Oh, thank the Goddesses!” She sniffed back a tear, “I thought…I had hoped they’d be…” she snorted, “you can’t have it all can you…”

Gretel peered at her mother, “Mum? Are you alright, you don’t look too well.”

As if on que, Pickles felt a tremor run through her and she could feel a cold sweat breaking out across her body. It wouldn’t be long now. She waved to the other side of the bed,

“Behind there.”

Filled with uncertain curiosity, Gretel rose to her hooves and trotted round to the bed nearest the window. She jumped back in alarm,

“Bloody hell! It’s a body!”

It was. A chestnut coated stallion, slim and fit, wearing close fitting black clothes and belts full of knives, darts and pouchs of…

“-Don’t touch him!” Pickles said urgently, “The daggers and darts are poisoned.”

Gretel peered down at the stallion. He was stiff as a board, and no wonder, a crossbow bolt had taken him right between the eyes. There was a strange smell too; bitter and sharp like lemon but with a sort of sweetness to it that...oh Goddess, no…she knew what that was…

“It’s…” Gretel began.

“-Eternity Flower…I know.” Pickles finished quietly, “the little rat got me before I managed to do for him. Good shot though, even if I do say so myself.”

Gretel hurried back to her mother’s side, “Mum, you need a physician quickly. I’ll call…”

“NO!” Pickles snapped, suddenly coughing violently into her hanky, “G…Gretel, no…there’s no cure, and I…I have so little time left…” she closed her eyes and fought back the heavy tiredness that was threatening to pull her down into its warm embrace, “I wanted to see you…to tell you…”

Gretel took her mothers hooves in hers as the older mare looked up into her daughters eyes, he own yellow orbs shining in the reflected light from the fireplace,

“I love you, my beautiful daughter, I’ve always loved you. Please…don’t ever…don’t ever forget that.”

“Mum!” Gretel’s heart was in her throat, it was like seeing her mother for the first time. All the times she’d shunned her, ignored her and fought with her. She’d called her such cruel names, such terrible, terrible names, and now…Doc! Good Goddess, he could do something surely! She turned to the door,

“Frilly! Jade!” The door burst open at her shout, the pastel green mare’s wide eyes staring back at her,

“What? What is it?”

“Go to the Revenge!” Gretel said desperately, “Get Doc, tell him its Eternity Flower poisoning and for the Goddess’s sake girl, run like the wind!”

Without another word, Jade vanished, the sound of her hooves rapidly disappearing down the stairs. By the Goddess, that mare could run…Gretel turned back to her mother, “Mum, you’ve got to hang on,” she leaned forward and stroked her mothers beautiful pink mane, “Doc’s on his way, don’t worry, don’t…”

A sudden flush of cold ran through Pickles, making her whimper slightly as it made her vision shift. Gretel steadied her in her chair, her fur warm against her chill body,

“G…Gretel, the heart of…the Raven…it’s in the vault.” Pickles voice was little more than a whisper, “Tell Frilly to get it out for you, tell her…tell her I said it was alright…she can…”

“Mum, please!” Gretel cradled her mothers head in her forelegs, “Don’t! I can’t lose you, not now! Dear Goddess, not now…” she kissed Pickles on the forehead, “We’ll go see the Revenge, and you and I can set sail together, as we should have. You can come and live with me! Or when you like, we can…”

“Gretel…” Pickles’ voice was fading, so very quiet now Gretel could hardly hear it, “Gretel…” Her daughter leaned closer, straining to hear her, “There’s a letter on…my bed…give it to Bracken…please.” She coughed weakly, “And…and Gretel…find Chalky…you deserve to…to be…happy.”

“Mum…” Gretel sobbed, “Mum, please, you’ve got to hang on, Doc’ll only be a moment! Please!” Tears were flowing down her face as her mother tried to reach up with a shaking hoof to stroke her cheek,

“You’re such a beautiful girl…” she smiled, “I’ve always been…so very proud…of you.”

“Mum…oh Goddess no! MUM!”

Gretel hugged her mother as her body went limp. Seconds later, the door crashed open. It was Doc,

“Gretel? Frilly said somepony had…oh no…” he hurried over to Pickles, the mare hanging like a rag doll in the forelegs of her grieving daughter. He opened his panniers and set out some equipment before checking for a pulse, for breath, for anything that would indicate that…

Doc let out a breath, hanging his head, “Gretel…I’m sorry, she’s…”

The Captain rocked her mother in her forelegs, softly singing to her the old nursery rhyme she’d sung with her as a foal. It was the only one she knew, from the only time she could really remember with much clarity of the far too little time she’d spent with the sea green unicorn mare…her mother. She choked back a sob, her tears falling like rain in the warm room. She knew now, far, far too late, just how much she’d meant to her, how much time they’d wasted - time that was now gone…forever. Gretel kissed her mother on the muzzle and nuzzled her neck gently, praying her mother would hear her words in the next world,

“I love you Mum.”

Doc sat in silence as the room became a scene of the most unimaginable tragedy. Gretel continued to hold her mother while Frilly and Jade sat on their haunches weeping. The whole house was wracked with grief, even the big stallion Fix was peering into the room with tears running down his muzzle. Doc closed his eyes and waited. He would be there when Gretel needed him, for now though, she needed to be with the mare who’d bore her into this world, the same mare who had left to be with the eternal herd. Under his breath, he said a prayer to the Goddesses for the departed.

*************************

Moving the lanterns to better illuminate his work, Doc examined the body of the dead stallion; he had been moved from Pickles’ bedroom to the store-room until he could be disposed of properly. Of course, in Spurs Anvil that usually meant little more than being unceremoniously dumped into the dark waters of the dock. Gretel was with the rest of the household, paying her final respects and making plans for her mother’s funeral. Doc didn’t want to think about that, he had things to do and knew from painful experience that work was indeed the best cure for taking your mind off more ‘personal’ matters.

Doc adjusted his spectacles and peered closely at the corpse laid out before him. He was a young stallion, in his early twenties by the looks of him, and fit too. He had good muscle tone, his hooves were neatly trimmed, and his mane and tail kept short. His teeth were good in good condition and his cutie mark was a fairly mundane cartwheel, so he was probably from farming stock – there were plenty of those around in Equestria. Doc checked his gear next. Gretel had been right, some of the short daggers and darts were tipped with the distinctive smelling poison made from a concentration of the rare bloom known as the Eternity Flower. If it had a proper name, he didn’t know what it was, but the one it was generally known by was enough to identify its effects - it was a lethal. Poor Pickles had been dead from the moment this vile concoction had entered her bloodstream. Even if he’d arrived earlier, there was little he could have done, except perhaps make her a little more comfortable in her final minutes.In all likelihood Pickles had known that all too well.

Lifting up one of the short daggers, Doc admired the craftsponyship that had gone into making them. They were truly beautiful items and certainly worth a bit or two. He’d never seen quality of this level in an item designed to kill before, but he’d heard of it, and seen the bearers of similar looking equipment. He closed his eyes and cast his mind back, remembering the Legion camp, the tents, and the cloaked ponies who’d walked amongst the thestrals as if they were their masters. One of the ponies had called them the ‘children of the night’, Nightmare Moon’s ‘chosen people’. Doc suspected they were probably ponies dedicated to Luna before she’d turned into that despicable creature, but who could say for sure? One thing was certain though, this pony was Legion. Either that or he’d somehow acquired the same clothing and equipment they wore, and the likelihood of that was ludicrously small, besides, this stallion was quite clearly trained. Doc sighed and shook his head. What was more intriguing though was the reason behind this; why would somepony want to kill Pickles? Whatever that reason was, was anyponies guess - she’d quite likely had her fair share of enemies in the kind of business she was in. Doc stood back and wiped his muzzle. At least he had enough information to go on for now.

He laid out the rest of the dead stallions personal possessions. The fellow had few items on him other than weapons: a few bits, a water bottle and some dry biscuits. Apparently he’d come through the window from the balcony outside. The scuff marks on the wooden window sill and the scratched paint of the frame evidence enough of that. How Pickles had managed to detect him and shoot him in the head with only a small crossbow was incredible, and it was doubly cruel of the fates to take her from this life after she had so nearly saved it. Doc clucked his tongue. There wasn’t anything else to be gained from this now, and besides, he had to see to other matters. Strata was keen to go home to retrieve a fresh note book, and show off his collection to his friend of course. For Doc himself it seemed innocent enough, but that stallion had an intriguing side to him that fascinated him. ‘A fellow seeker of knowledge’, he thought to himself happily, and a friend who had come to understand him in ways he had never thought possible. Perhaps…just perhaps, the Goddesses had given him a small ray of sunshine in these dark times. Time would tell of course…he sighed, it always did.

Doc got up and walked to the door, collecting a sweet roll and bottle of barley wine on the way. He’d drop the money off with one of the girls later, and anyway, he was working for free wasn’t he? He snorted, and headed out to the front door where the sombre Fix was sat like some enormous guard dog. A heavy crossbow and fell axe leaned up against the wall beside him. Dear goddesses, it was incredible anypony could lift things that size, let alone wield them, and if Fix could, he’d likely be a one pony army. Outside, Strata was waiting for him,

“Anything?”

Doc shrugged, “Some bits and pieces, questions mostly though.”

“Ah, the eternal dilemma of the seeker of knowledge my dear Doc. Questions beget questions, beget questions.” Strata smiled, “How’s the Captain?”

“Not good.” Doc said adjusting his saddle bags, “They weren’t close, but I suspect they realised just how much they really meant to each other…at the end.”

“Oh…” Strata replied quietly, “Where is she now?”

Doc pointed down the road, “She said to meet her in the Full Moon, she has a private room there.”

The indigo stallion nodded and the two friends trotted off up the cobbled street to the loud and lively place that was the largest tavern in the port. Doc couldn’t help but find a peculiar irony in it all; how Pickles’ house had become a place of death and there, not one hundred yards away, was a place overflowing with life. It seemed wrong and yet, strangely apt, almost metaphorical really - Death and life, two sides of the same road, where eventually, one simply transitioned from one to the other. He snorted. Sod it all, he wanted to enjoy as much of this life as he could before he entered the house of the dead himself and spent eternity with the eternal herd. Knowing his luck, he’d end up being a bloody doctor there too!

The noise in the Full Moon was deafening. Barmares dodged between patrons who kept trying to whack their behinds or else push their way to the bar while others attempted to dance drunkenly to the lively music. It was life: loud, course, and full of vibrancy. Doc raised an eyebrow at Strata who nodded happily, following the blue stallion to the back rooms that were off the corridor behind the staircase. He could only hope that the sheer outflowing of energy here had reminded Gretel that there was more to this world than grief and loneliness, and that her friends and her ship awaited her. The last time he saw her, those eyes, those beautiful deep maroon eyes so normally bright and full of fire, had seemed…empty…dead. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through; to lose someone that in some ways, she’d only just found - it must have torn her heart in two. But as awful as it sounded, it was still better than never knowing, and going through life…always wondering.

Strata nudged him, “Hey frowny face, do you think the Captain will want to see you looking like that? Come on, let’s see the doctors bedside manner face.”

Doc snorted, a wry grin coming unbidden to his features, “’Beside manner face’?”

“Ha! There you go! Knew you could do it.” The indigo pony chuckled, “She needs you Doc, but you know…so do I.”

The blue stallion nearly tripped over his own hooves as he got to the door, and cleared his throat noisily before knocking,

“Captain?”

The muffled voice from inside was Gretels alright, “Come in, Doc.”

They entered. The room itself was surprisingly well appointed for a tavern, with a log fire, matching table and chairs, and a selection of paintings of what was probably Spurs Anvil in its heyday, or more likely an ‘artists impression’ of what they thought it had looked like. Doc glanced at one of them as he took his seat. The artist had portrayed a veritable abundance of sparkly ponies in the lively street scene. It certainly tied in to some extent with what Strata had explained to him one evening. Apparently, it all had something to do with the ‘empire’s heart’, whatever that was. It seemed to him that the whole Crystal Empire lot were obsessed with ‘hearts’. Probably sacrificed them, he thought to himself sarcastically.

In contrast to the elegant trappings of the room, Gretel looked a fright. Her mane and tail were unkempt and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy with dark circles around them, no doubt from crying. She’d probably not admit it of course, but that was Gretel. A bottle of brandy sat open on the table which she waved to. Two extra glasses had already been put out in anticipation of their arrival.

“Find anything, Doc?” she asked.

The blue stallion nodded,

“He was Legion, or at least as far as I could tell he was. I saw characters like him in Nightmare Moon’s camp.” He took a breath, “You were right, it was Eternity Flower poisoning. Several of the knives and darts were tipped with the stuff, and he had a bottle of it too. There was enough there to kill half of the ponies in Spurs Anvil.”

Gretel’s eyes narrowed as she stared into the fire. The way the yellow flames reflected in her maroon eyes made Doc’s heart skip a beat. He’d never seen such intensity from her before.

“Legion…” she murmured, “Those bastards.” Gretel knocked back her brandy, her voice dropping to a level that was more of a menacing growl, “Why…why would they murder my mother?”

“I don’t know, Gretel.” Doc said quietly, “All I can say is that, most likely, it was a Legion assassin.”

The red mare leaned against the mantelpiece and hung her head,

“What about the Raven’s heart?”

“It’s still in the vault.” Doc replied, “Frilly said we can take it anytime. Salty went to speak to her earlier about it.”

Gretel nodded and said nothing. Strata looked at Doc who just shook his head. Eventually Gretel spoke,

“You knew my father, didn’t you Doc.”

He nodded, “Aye, Gretel, I knew him. He was a good pony.”

She snorted back a laugh, “Really? He was, was he? Maybe not quite as ‘good’ as you thought he was.” The red mare returned to fill her glass, “Did you know he knew all about Salty’s real story? Did you know he used it to keep my mother from going aboard the ship? To keep her away from me with his…his…” she spat, “His damnable lies!”

Doc shook his head. He’d suspected something like this had happened after he’d heard Salty’s retelling of the story, but he’d hoped he’d been wrong. “No.” he said shaking his head solemnly, “Like the rest of the crew, I believed the warnings about unicorns. To my shame, I never questioned it either. I suppose I just put it down to some cautionary tale passed down through the generations about magic interfering with the ship. I mean, we have magic suppression in the hold, so it didn’t seem that much of a stretch of the imagination to assume all magic, and by association, unicorns, were incompatible with the safe running of a vessel.” He leaned a hoof on the table, “Gretel, look, whatever your father’s disagreement was with your mother, I know for a fact he loved you very much.”

Gretel sneered, “Enough to poison me against my own mother. Oh yes, he ‘loved me’ alright, the lousy snake.”

Doc banged his hoof on the table, “Gretel, that’s enough, please! Your father was a good pony in his own way, and a damned good Captain too. He and your mother’s falling out happened, rightly or wrongly, but he never stopped loving you even up to his dying day. He bequeathed you his greatest love - his ship, the same ship you Captain now. Your mother loved you dearly as well, even if she didn’t always show it.” He fixed her with his pink eyed gaze, “There are faults on all sides here, Gretel, and the Goddesses know, nopony is perfect, nopony at all, but you had something that you can always cherish: that is the knowledge that you had parents who loved you, and were proud of you. That’s a hell of a lot more than some of us can say.”

Gretel sighed, taking a sip of her brandy. She knew, she’d always known really, deep down. She was just too stubborn and bloody minded to listen to her own heart. Now, she needed a friend to tell just her how lucky a mare she was, and how bloody stupid she was being. Gretel swished her tail, her ears twitching. Mum and Dad wouldn’t want to see her like this, moping and dripping about like some lost soul. No, they’d want her to move ahead, to drive forward and take this damnable world by the balls and screw it for every bit. Her parents would live on forever within her and, in some ways, in the Revenge, that most magnificent of ships. Gretel nodded to herself, a smile on her face that felt strangely alien right now,

“You ready for an adventure, boys?”

“I…suppose so?” Doc said in surprise.

Strata nodded vigorously.

“Right then,” Gretel announced grabbing the bottle, “let’s go and see a pony about a heart.”

The three of them left the Full Moon and were soon heading up the steps to Pickles’ place. Still in mourning, the house was closed to the public, yet even so several of the old hooves had somehow managed to wrangle their way in - Salty being one of them. He was sat with a turquoise mare who was holding his hoof and speaking softly to him. Gretel smiled to herself; the old goat looked as happy as a foal in cut grass at the attention. Strangely though, the mare he was with seemed to be genuinely interested in talking to him, rather than putting on an act as she’d always assumed they did. Maybe…maybe she’d been wrong about her mum’s work? She shrugged to herself…maybe. Frilly was working on one of the house registers, a ludicrous set of horn rimmed glasses perched on her muzzle. She looked tired; the long day had clearly been wearing on her as much as it had on everypony else. At their approach, the powder blue mare looked up, brushing a few loose whisps of mane from her eyes,

“Ah, Captain Gretel, have you come to collect your item?”

Gretel nodded, “Aye, its time to put it where it belongs,”

Frilly shrugged. All she knew was that it was a box in the vault, “This way, please.”

The trio followed the mare into a back office, through a heavy iron plated door and down a long flight of well worn steps. As they descended, they all pressed in close to one another: it was pitch black. Down here, there was no other illumination than the warm pool of light cast by Frilly’s lantern. Their hoof steps echoed hollowly around them as they walked, suggestive of a large empty space - a space beneath the house itself? Gretel’s imagination was beginning to run rampant, she didn’t like places like this, not one bit! She could feel her heartrate beginning to increase as they continued their descent into what felt like the bowels of Equestria until, mercifully, they reached the bottom. Frilly reached out and tapped a couple of metal plates set in the wall, and suddenly a glowing archway of bright blue light appeared before her, seemingly from out of thin air.

There was a collective gasp behind her, but Frilly just shrugged and disappeared through the archway,

“Are you coming?” she called back, “You can stay here if you…”

“-No!” Gretel squeaked, quickly clearing her throat, “Erm, no, thanks Frilly, we’ll follow you, thank you.”

The blue mare smirked to herself. It worked every time.

Gretel, Doc and Strata stared about themselves in amazement at the blue glow that was emanating from the stonework around them, lighting their way and tingeing everything with an ethereal glow that had no clear source. Strata didn’t seem to know where to look next, his notepad and pencil a virtual blur in the glow of his own magic. Come to think of it, Gretel pondered, why hadn’t he used his magic to light the bloody stairs? Useless bugger…

Gretel shook her head and began looked around in awe at the vast collection. She could hear Strata droning on and on in the background about stones, crystals and magic; thoroughly and completely boring, she thought to herself rolling her eyes. All she needed to know was where this blasted box was. The sooner they had it, the sooner they could get out of this place. As incredible as it all was, it had a feeling about of some ancient tomb where the grave goods of the deceased had been left for their owners to enjoy in the afterlife. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the thought.

Frilly waved a hoof at the massive room before them,

“Here we are, and your box…” she trotted along to a shelf and took down a black lacquered wooden box, “Is here.”

Gretel tried to tear her eyes away from the rest of the room, but the more she looked, the more it began to unveil its treasures. It was full to bursting with the most amazing items, from trinkets, to crates, to ships figureheads of all things. Good Goddess there was probably a small city’s ransom in here!

“Captain?”

“Oh, sorry…” Gretel gave herself a shake, and reached out to take the box, “Is it locked?”

Frilly nodded, “Salty has the key upstairs I believe. He wants to be the one to open it.”

Gretel snorted out a laugh, “And who can blame him. Come on, let’s get back.” She turned to Strata, “Oh, and by the way, can you actually use that horn of yours for light Mister Strata?”

“Hmm?” the indigo unitcorn peered up from his notepad, “Why, um, yes…yes, it’s a basic really.”

“Well that’s just splendid!” Gretel quipped, clopping him on the shoulder, “Then you can bring up the rear and put that horn of yours to some good use, instead of floating note books around like some bloody breezy.”

Strata nodded, a wry grin on his face, “Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

Gretel smiled, “And don’t you forget it.”

Salty looked up as the four of them reentered the lobby. His marefriend tenderly stroked his back as he rose to his hooves, remaining in her seat and waiting quietly. Gretel found the scene surprisingly touching. Whether there was something genuine between the two of them remained to be seen, but it was good to see the old sailor’s smile again.

Gretel, Strata, Doc and Salty stood around the box staring at it in silence. Nopony seemed to know what to do and just stood there, staring at the black lacquered container as if something deadly where about to leap out at them. The tension in the air of the house’s lobby was electric.

“You could try opening it?” Frilly suggested, leaning in, “It won’t do it itself you know.”

Salty shook his mane, breaking the spell that held the ponies around him in its thrall. It had been so long since he’d seen the box, he could barely remember how many years it had been in here at all. He’d been a much younger stallion back then of course, full of the spirit of adventure and the love of the sea. It had been just after he’d joined the Revenge’s crew that he’d left the Raven’s heart with Madam Pickles for safekeeping. In some ways it had been a symbolic act; burying in that vault a part of his past as well as the heart of the vessel he had loved so much. Until then, he’d kept it with him day and night, remembering the good times, and the bad. But he couldn’t live in the past forever, and the future had seemed so much brighter after the Captain had offered him a place on his crew after hearing his tale - and after a few drinks of course. Salty shook his head. He couldn’t remember anything about that night other than waking up in the forward end of the Revenge the next morning with his sign on papers. They were good days…good days…

“Salty? You okay?” It was the turquoise mare. She rubbed his mane lovingly, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to love. It’s your choice.”

The old hoof looked at the box nervously and then his expression began to change beneath the mare’s touch, “Thank ye, Glass,” he said with a sigh, “I be alright now.”

Salty reached up to the neck of the striped shirt he habitually wore and rummaged about for something. Gretel looked on, staring in amazement as the object emerged, the object Salty had referred to in his story…suddenly, it all seemed so tantalisingly real; not that she didn’t actually believe him of course, but to see it in person, to see it actually right there in front of her nose, was…amazing!

The large iron key dangled there on the end of a long leather thong. It was such a simple thing, almost crude really, but right now every eye was on it.

“I ‘ad the box made just for her,” the old sailor said quietly, lifting the key reverently, “I even ‘ad a locksmith make a lock ter fit the key.” He snorted, “Silly, eh?”

Gretel shook her head. No…it was far from that, not somepony you cared so deeply for. She watched in silence as Salty deftly flicked the key up into his mouth and placed it in the lock. He took a step back and paused, seeming to gather his thoughts, and then, calmly, reached out with his hoof and turned it. Gretel’s heart felt like it was going to explode in anticipation. All she wanted now was to throw the bloody thing open and…

“Here…” Salty lifted the lid and turned the box so they could all see inside, “The heart o’ the ship, the heart o’ the Raven’s Eye.”

Gretel couldn’t speak for the rest, but for herself, time felt like it was standing still. Nestled in a bed of scarlet velvet, the heart shaped crystal before her was…indescribably beautiful. It shone with all the colours of the rainbow as the light reflected off its multi-faceted surface, drawing her gaze. A deep inner light and otherworldy warmth emanated from within the heart that seemed to resonate with every pony in the room. Somehow, it felt…alive. Gretel reached out a hoof, but pulled back quickly. To touch such a thing would sully it, would mar its perfection…that small heart shaped crystal…she could almost feel the ship within, calling to Salty, speaking with him. The old stallion himself just stood there, holding the crystal as gently as a newborn foal and smiled softly, his eyes unfocussed and distant. He was talking to her, she knew it, and she could understand. Doc and Strata looked at one another, no doubt wondering if they should say something, but Salty beat them to the punch,

“She says she be ‘appy ter do this,” Salty said in relief, his face breaking into a huge grin, “she don’t know what’ll ‘appen’ though. Guess we all be a little in the dark eh?”

“Aye…” Gretel said quietly, her eyes locked on the magnificent object, “but not for long. You ready?”

Salty nodded, “Aye, Cap’n. Um…” he glanced towards the mare beside him, “Would ye mind if young Glass ‘ere…” his voice trailed off.

The turquoise mare with the green eyes nuzzled him gently. Gretel couldn’t help be raise a smile at them,

“Of course.” She nodded, “Come on then everypony. The Revenge awaits.”

*********************

With the sails furled and rocking gently at anchor, it looked as if the old ship was asleep. Gretel smiled to herself. In reality, despite the vessel’s age, she’d never really considered the Revenge to be old. Even when she was just a filly, she’d felt the ship was like a kindred spirit, a youngster who’d never grown up. Now, after hearing Salty’s tale and what she’d discovered from her conversations with Strata, it finally began to make sense. The Revenge had never had the chance to grow, because she’d been made up of little more than an amalgamation of memories – the voyages, trials and tribulations of a vessel that had all combined to make her what she was today. But, was that truly fair? To say she was simply an entity comprised of a collection of memories with no mind of her own? No…no there was more there. She was like a seed, sleeping beneath the frozen earth waiting for spring to arrive. Gretel smiled to herself, the small wooden room, more of a cupboard really, lay before her. The key that she’d found amongst her fathers most precious possessions, now one of her more precious reminders of him, hung from her neck as Salty’s had. When she thought about it, the two looked like twins, but…no…not twins…sisters. Gretel lifted the heavy iron key and closed her eyes thinking of her father. He’d probably never realised what this was, or maybe never cared. Perhaps Salty had never told him the part of his story about the heart? She’d probably never know, and maybe…maybe it was best that way. You didn’t need to know everything to make things right. Her father was dead, her mother was dead and maybe in the eternal herd they could reconcile, but in her own heart they held a special place, each of them unique, each equally loved.

The key turned.

Inside the small room was a single wooden box, black and silver bound and quite beautiful in its own way. As with Salty’s tale, Gretel’s key opened it, quickly proving that the box was indeed, quite empty. She looked up at the old stallion and nodded, stepping back. Goddess have mercy, she prayed this would work…

Glass, the pretty middle aged mare with the long snow white and blue striped mane nudged Salty and…and nipped his ear! Gretel face hoofed…good grief! Doc sniggered behind her, receiving a playful shove from Strata. She had to smile. This had felt like such a sombre time, a time of introspection and hope, and yet they had forgotten one key ingredient…love.

Salty kissed the mare on the muzzle and grinned. Taking a deep breath he lifted out the crystal heart from its resting place of years and kissed it too, before lowering the delicate item into the empty box of the Revenge,

“Time ter go home, me love. Ye belong ‘ere.”

Carefully, Salty closed the lid, stepping aside for Gretel to lock it…and waited.

Nothing happened.

“What happens now?” Doc asked Strata quietly,”Do we need to do something?”

The indigo unicorn raised his eyebrows, “I have no idea. I don’t think this has ever been done before.”

“No incantations? No spells?” Doc queried.

“Um…no?”

“Maybe nothing happens until you lock the door?” Doc pondered, and Gretel reached out clicking the cupboards lock into place.

Nothing.

Gretels heart sank. So…that was it, was it? All that, and for what? She shook her head with a sigh, “Come on you lot, no harm done in trying.” She certainly sounded a lot more positive than she felt right then. It was like the world had dropped out beneath her. She headed for the stairs, reaching out, trying to feel for any changes in the ship, but there was nothing…just a distant sense of…wonderment…

“CAPTAIN!” It was Haggis’s voice, “For the Goddesses sake, get up on deck! Somethings wrong with the ship!”

Haggis was still calling down to them as they thundered up the stairs from the between deck and out into the glaring sunshine. Gretel was the first on deck, with the others all but crashing into her as she came to a sudden halt, staring open mouthed at the ship around her.

It was glowing.

Gretel stared with a mixture of horror, amazement and awe. Everywhere, the wood, the rope, the sails, virtually every part of the Revenge was pulsing with a deep golden light. Beneath her hooves the deck thrummed, a powerfully strong resonance that was making even the sails high above her shudder and ripple. Haggis looked distraught, his odd eyes wide in panic. Salty stood next to him, talking to him while the other pony jumped from hoof to hoof in agitation. Gretel closed her eyes, trying to block it all out and calm her own racing heart. Slowing her breathing, she reached for the ship, to try and sense her emotional state. There was something there, the same sense of wonder from before, but also a feeling of fear mingling with anticipation. She was…waiting…

“Mister Haggis, I…”

The deck heaved, suddenly throwing everypony off their hooves to crash heavily onto the pitching deck. Shout and cries from the crew rang out as they tried desperately to hang on, their voices blending with another sound, a noise like a long low moan. It was getting louder, rising in volume and pitch from a whisper, to a shout, to a scream of absolute horror and torment. Gretel threw her forelegs over her head, trying to block out the terrible sound, but it was hopeless, the cry of the ship was permeating everything. Doc and the other ponies around her covered their ears, looking at each other in alarm…something had gone terribly wrong. Haggis and Salty stared at their Captain, their eyes conveying the distress and fear that they were all feeling, but not just theirs, it was the Revenge herself. Her fear of what was happening within her was consuming her. Gretel knew she had to do something, she had to act now or else…Salty’s story came flooding back to her, the way the Raven had…the way she…broke apart. Gretel slammed a hoof down,

“Not my ship,” she snarled, “NOT MY SHIP!”

The red mare threw herself towards the rear hatch, nearly pitching though it head first with the shaking and rolling of her vessel. The Revenge cried out, her wordless voice resounding through her hull, and surging through her Captain and her crew. Below decks it was worse, the sound here was an almost impenetrable barrier that Gretel had to battle her way through. And then there was that voice, the voice she didn’t recognise, but somehow she already knew who it was. It was old, ancient even, as deep as the ocean and as dark as the night sky, with a feminine quality that was almost…motherly. She couldn’t make out the words, it was as if she were overhearing a conversation intended for somepony else, but there was no doubt as to who it was:

The Raven’s Eye.

Gretel reached the lower deck as that alien voice began to change, crying out suddenly in pain and fear,

SALTY!

The Captain shuddered as the voice ploughed through her with the force of a hurricane. Should she go back? Should she get the old sailor? Damn it, there wasn’t time! She had to get that bloody crystal out of her! She’d made a terrible mistake. They never should have done this to her, never!

SALTY!

Damn it all! Gretel hurried, her hooves slipping from beneath her, sending her tumbling down the last few steps to land in a heap on the deck below. She tried to stand…and screamed. A pain like white hot fire burned through her. She daren’t look, but she knew with horrible certainty that one of her hind legs was broken. Goddess damn it all! Why now? What bloody timing! The Captain tried to pull herself up onto her three good legs and shook her head, neighing loudly as another shock of pain lanced though her. Her stomach roiled. The Revenge’s distress had become her own, and no doubt the ship could sense her physical pain as well, making the situation even more dire than it had been. But there was not time for that, she had to get to the heart and get that bloody thing out.

SALTY!!

The voice cried out it terror. She was alone in the darkness, with shapes and sensations she’d had never experienced assailing her. Images of places, times and ponies she didn’t know ran through her in an endless torrent. She didn’t want this! She was so frightened!

“CAPTAIN!”

Breathing heavily, Gretel looked up into the blue eyes of Salty, his face a picture of concern. She tried to smile…it was quite touching really, she thought. Pain shot through her leg making her shiver,

“Hello Salty,” she gasped, “come to give an old mare a hoof, eh?”

Salty stared at her, his face paling. Slowly, he looked down at her hind quarters, “Oh Goddesses, Cap’n, yer leg…” he turned to the stairs, “DOC! The Capn’s hurt, we needs ‘elp!”

Gretel reach out a hoof, “We don’t have time. Salty…she needs you. Please.” She took off the iron key from around her neck and passed it to him, “Go to her. Get that bloody thing out of her.”

Salty hesitated, “Captain, I…”

“DO IT! Mister Salty, that is and order!” The red mare snapped.

“A..Aye, aye, Cap’n!” The brown and cream stallion shook his short black mane and with a quick backward glance, dashed off down the stairs.

How the hell he managed to keep on his hooves was nothing short of miraculous, Gretel thought to herself as she hung onto the support beam. Damn…she wanted to be the one, the one the ship needed. She was her Captain, not Salty, but…he was the one she’d called for, not her…not her…

“Captain?” It was Doc, “What’s…damn.” He called back up the stairs, “Stretcher! Get a stretcher down here, now!”

The shaking and rolling of the ship wasn’t as pronounced now, but the feeling of fear was still there, the sensation of wanting to curl up and hide was overwhelming. Gretel was so absorbed by it she barely noticed being strapped onto the stretcher, nor the journey into sickbay. Others were in there too it seemed: bumps and sprains mostly, but all bearing that same look of fear and uncertainty. The Captain sighed,

“Get a bloody move on Salty, you old goat.”

***************************

The old sailor ducked under the low beams in the bowels of the frightened ship, her cries of distress calling to him…only to him. He should never have left her alone in that vault. He’d wanted her to be safe, but it had been cruel to leave her alone all this time. She was frightened, the images and memories she was experiencing were so strange, so alien to her. There was a presence here too - a warm, kind, but childlike energy that was trying to…to touch her! She’d been so excited at first, but…but she didn’t know it would be like this! She didn’t…!

Salty reached the cupboard, unlocked the door and reached for the box. It was hot, almost red hot, making him recoil from the radiated heat. He took a breath. Should he be doing this? To take out the heart, to pull it from the ship…dear Goddesses, he remembered all too well what happened last time.

The key turned in the lock.

Lifting the lacquered black lid carefully with the tips of his hooves, Salty ducked away quickly as a blast of heat caught his mane, singing it slightly. He balked. What was this? He didn’t recall the Raven’s heart being like this! Taking a steadying breath, he peered over the edge.

“Raven…”

Salty stared down into the box. The crystal heart was glowing, throbbing with intense multicoloured lights. It was as if a fight were going on within it, a battle which she was losing. Salty closed his eyes and reached out for the crystal, waiting for that connection, the pull of…

Light vanished. Sound disappeared. The world had simply…gone.

The old stallion stood in absolute darkness. There was no sense of up, down, left or right, nor, as he noticed even more worryingly, any floor beneath his hooves. Salty gasped and closed his eyes again, not that it really made much difference here, but right now he felt like he just wanted to curl up and hide. But where? There was nowhere to hide or run to! Where…ah…of course…he was inside her, wasn’t he? He’d heard of this, but had never actually experienced it before first hoof. She’d only ever spoken to him, never taken him inside her like this. He took a breath,

“Raven? I be here me love.”

Salty?

The voice came back to him, quavering and uncertain.

Yes. You are here.

Salty’s heart went out to her, “Me love, I be so sorry I left yer. I thought ye’d be safe, but…”

I was. But this…I didn’t expect this!

“I don’t understand, Raven.” Salty said honestly, “What be ‘appenin?”

Wait. Close your eyes.

Salty did as he was instructed and waited. What was going on? This was something that he hadn’t expected, but Raven sounded the same as she always had, and in his heart, the old sailor was overjoyed to hear her beautiful voice once again, as strong as it had been when he’d been at her helm.

“Salty? You may open your eyes now.”

The old sailor complied, slowly opening his eyes, and blinked in surprise. An image of a pony, stood before him. She was…beautiful. His eyes drank her in, from the sparkling lilac and purple mane with its long silver hair pins, her shining silver-grey coat, to the wonderful curls of her tail. The mare seemed to shine like diamonds, rubies, and emeralds; as though she were made of the very material of the ships heart itself…crystal. A long flowing purple robe cinched with a large silver brooch covered most of her body, hiding her cutie mark. But it was her eyes, those relective pools of blues, silver and gold that captured his heart as surely as if he’d put his own in that box. He swallowed. The mare before him was so unimaginable to look upon, he felt ashamed to be stood there before her, as though his mere presence would mar her perfection.

“You seem surprised.” The mare said, “Does this image not please you?”

Salty choked back a sob. He felt so overjoyed, elated even, just to be standing before her. “Me lady,” he bowed, “Forgive an old sailor, I never been before a Goddess before and…”

The mare giggled,

“A Goddess?” she hid her mirth behind her hoof demurely, “No! I am no Goddess, my dear Salty.” She walked closer, lifting his chin, “I am the one who you touched all those years ago.” She gazed into his eyes, her voice lilting and full of life, “You know who I am.”

“Raven…” he breathed.

The mare smiled, “Who else?”

“But…” Salty began, “Ye look so, pony-like, but…more beautiful.” He blushed, feeling the heat in his cheeks, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so forward an’…”

Raven held a delicate crystalline hoof up to her mouth and giggled girlishly, “You are a dear!” She began walking around in a circle and stretched her legs, “I haven’t been in this form for…” she furrowed her brow, “A while. Time doesn’t seem to move for me the way it does for others. Everything feels as if it only just happened, and yet so long ago.”

Salty waited as the mare shrugged,

“It doesn’t matter,” she said dismissively, “I knew what I was getting into when I volunteered for this.” She grimaced, “Mostly.”

“Volunteered?” Salty asked curiously, “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter, dear Salty.” Raven replied, “What does matter is that you need to get rid of…her.”

“What?!” Salty choked, “Get rid of…? Who? Why?”

Raven raised her eyebrows, “Her!” she pointed with her hoof at…a foal.

Salty’s eyes went even wider. There, standing not far from them was a happy looking orange foal, sparkling and shimmering as if she too were made of the same crystal as the Raven. The foal sat watching them both, her big green eyes matching her green mane and tail. She was quite cute really.

“Quite cute? QUITE CUTE?!”

Raven’s voice was like a tempest, blasting into Salty’s ears and making his head ache. Damn it all! He hadn’t realised he’d spoken his thoughts out loud! He must be going senile, that was it. Too many years before the mast could make you go do-lally. Weevil had always said that and…

“Salty!” Raven hissed, her eye’s narrowing, “Do something!”

“I don’t know what’s going on!” Salty replied in frustration, “It’s so confusing!”

Raven appeared to take a deep breath and gave herself a shake,

“Look, it’s quite simple.” She said quietly, “That foal keeps trying to…to touch me, and I…I don’t like it!”

Raven pouted. Salty rubbed his eyes; good Goddesses…she was actually pouting! He cleared his throat,

“Raven, what be wrong with ‘er? She be such a little thing.” He called over to the foal, “Come ‘ere poppet, we won’t ‘urt’s ye.”

The orange foal seemed a little unsure, but blinked her eyes and happily trotted towards them.

Raven shrieked and suddenly ran round to hide behind Salty, peering over his neck at the foal, “No!” She squeaked, “Don’t let it touch me!”

The foal stopped, holding her head to one side, her big round eyes full of curiosity.

“Why?” Salty said quietly, “What’ll ‘appen?”

“I…I don’t know!” Raven quavered, “It’s…I don’t…just look at her!”

“She’s a foal?”

“I can see that!” Raven hissed, “But…she should be like me! I thought…”

Salty closed his eyes a moment, keeping his voice calm, “We spoke about this me love, ‘an I did as ye asked.”

“I know!” Raven snapped, backing away and casting a look of disgust at the tiny foal, “It’s just…it’s not ‘like’ me, it’s…not a real…pony.”

Salty shook his head, “But…you be a ship, or where a ship? I…”

Raven rolled her eyes, “A ship? Yes, I suppose I am, or rather was when I still had my body. But I didn’t always look like that you know. I looked like, well…” she stood back from him and waved her hoof, “This.”

“This is how you looked before you became a ship?” Salty asked.

The crystal mare let out a long sigh, “You really didn’t know?” she paused, “No…I don’t suppose you would, would you? Sometimes I forget how many have ‘Captained’ me since I was…changed.” She stared at Salty meaningully, “Now, never mind all that, just get rid of…” she waved a hoof at the foal, “that!”

“No”

“WHAT?!” Raven shrieked, “What do you mean ‘no’?! It’s just a thing! It was never like me! It’s a…”

“-A foal” Salty interrupted quietly, “She should ‘ave been like ye, shouldn’t she? She should o’ ‘ad an ‘eart. But she were denied one. Why, who can say, but she be like ye, she be the memories o’ this ship; the lives, loves, trials an’ struggles o’ ‘er life.” Salty smiled, “She only wants ter share that with ye.”

“I know!” Raven said irritably, “It’s just…I don’t want to…” she pressed into Salty, her eyes squeezed tight shut, “…to lose who I am. I’m frightened Salty…”

“Me love, I can take yer heart out o’ the Revenge if ye truly wants me ter,” Salty replied in a soft voice, “but won’t ye at least talk to ‘er?”

“No!”

“I be right ‘ere with ye, I promise.” Salty said gently.

Raven sniffed, “She doesn’t…talk, really.” She said, “She seems to communicate through ‘images’. Some of them are…strange. I don’t like it!”

“’ere,” Salty said, “If I ‘olds yer ‘oof an’ the little foal’s, will ye be able to see what she see’s?”

Raven frowned, “Well, maybe…”

“Come on, poppet,” Salty waved the foal over, “Right.” He said pointing with his hoof, “now then, you lies there,” he nodded to the worried looking mare, “’an you lies there. Right then,” the old sailor settled down between them, reaching out his forehooves, “I don’t knows if this’ll do anythin’ but…

There was a bright flash of light and colour. Blinding images, sounds, smells…and ponies…so many ponies! Salty could feel the fear emanating from Raven, the enthusiasm and happiness from the Revenge, and him, the helmspony in the middle, the anchor that held them together. He closed his eyes and sent out his feelings to both of them, for the two sisters to see the world as he saw it, to share his own experiences, both the good and the bad. From the first day he stood on the Raven’s decks, to the day he lost her, he shared it all, not holding anything back. It was about trust, it was about the love he had for the sea and the sky, but through it all, he wanted the two sisters to know each other, to find a place of calm and understanding that only they themselves could truly find.

The light vanished.

Salty blinked. He was stood on a dockside beside a ship…the Ravens Eye! He gasped in shock, nearly bumping into a pony behind him,

“Oh! Sorry miss, I…”

She completely ignored him, tossing her glittering mane and chatting to the stallion beside her without a care in the world. Salty squinted at the scene around him, it was so…crystalline. All the buildings, the docks, even the ponies, all of them and everything around glinting with that reflected colourful light, like they were made up of diamonds, like…

“Beautiful isn’t it?”

Raven stood beside him, smiling sadly,

“This was my home, when I was who I really was.”

Salty didn’t know what to say.

The little foal appeared beside them, her eyes taking it all in as she pranced around in delight. Raven shook her head, “She never stops, does she?” She smiled distantly, “Come on, I’ll show you where I lived.”

The three of them walked along the dockside, passing beside a myriad of elegantly dressed ponies: mares and stallions, all sporting a bewildering variety of colourful hats, gowns and suits. Adding to the riot of colour, were the surprisingly large number of soldiers, all of the wearing crystalline armour and armed with long wicked looking spears. Salty couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Good Goddesses, no wonder the place was called the Crystal Empire! Didn’t they have any other building material? That said, the Raven was made of wood though, so…

“Not everything is made of crystal,” Raven explained as they walked, “it just looks that way because of the Heart of the Empire.”

Salty blinked. He still wasn’t used to Raven reading his mind, “The…?”

Raven rolled her eyes, “Don’t you know anything?!” she said irritably.

“Apparently not!” Salty replied in exasperation.

The mare clucked her tongue, “It make’s everything sparkly.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, we’re here.” Raven walked straight through a huge crystal door in the side of what looked like a mountain.

Salty looked up in awe. No, it wasn’t a mountain, it was a… “A palace!” he breathed, “It’s a palace made of…Oop!”

A hoof grabbed him and pulled the startled stallion, quite literally, through the door. Raven shook her head in annoyance, “At least try to keep up!” she snapped, “Honestly, you seemed to know when you had a hold of my helm.” She looked away, blushing slightly and making Salty’s neck twitch at some unspoken implication. Why did he suddenly feel guilty about Glass?

“I am not jealous!” Raven hissed, “So stop thinking that!”

“I never said ye were!” Salty retorted, “’an stop readin’ me mind!”

Raven frowned, “I can’t help it if your heads as leaky as a colander! Now shush, we’re here.”

They’d stopped in front of another set of crystal doors. Again, more guards stood outside as a troop of ponies trotted along the corridor. Several wore long white coats, while the rest sported uniforms of various types. It all seemed very ‘official’ somehow, and made Salty’s usual sailor garb make him feel distinctly out of place.

The door opened and the ponies marched in; Salty, Raven and the little foal following close behind.

Inside, the now familiar crystalline architecture continued. Dominating the centre of the room was a huge round table with equally spaced chairs around its edge. Banners, trophies and paintings of ponies Salty didn’t recognise, adorned the walls, together with gold filigree sconces topped with large lights that made the room as bright as day without the need for windows. The uniformed ponies took positions around the table and waited, with one chair, a large silver and gold edged one, standing empty at the far end of the table opposite the door. The room was silent…

“Who?” Salty began, but Raven shushed him just as the door opened behind them.

“Sorry I’m late gentlecolts, please be seated,” A tall dark grey unicorn with a slick black mane and tail waved to them all as he approached, “Just a second…” he turned back to one of the guards, “Sergeant, would you nip over to the kitchen and find out where the drinks are? There’s a good fellow.”

Whoever he was, the rest of the ponies there bowed to him before taking their seats. He was, Salty thought, a fairly ordinary looking stallion really: a uniform dark grey coated fellow with neatly trimmed mane and tail, but it was his bright magenta eyes that were his most striking feature, and they echoed the three magenta crystals on his flank. He’d seen that symbol before somewhere but couldn’t quite place it. It didn’t matter though particularly as the stallion had begun to address the assembled ponies,

“Well, it looks like refreshments will be a little later than planned, everypony.” The grey stallion said apologetically as he popped a pair of spectacles onto his muzzle and flipped open a thin folder, “Now, let’s crack on, I’m sure you’re all keen to get down to business.”

The discussion being held dragged on for what must have been hours: discussions about military formations, defensive strategies, recruitment figures, and so on and so on. Salty could feel his ears drooping and felt a yawn beginning to make its awkward presence felt as he tried desperately to keep listening – and awake. How in Equestria did ponies do this sort of thing? Why?! Couldn’t they just, you know, tell somepony what to do? Surely all that grey fellow needed to do was issue his orders and they’d be carried out. After all, he was in charge wasn’t he?

As if reading his mind, the grey unicorn waved his hoof at one of the white overcoat wearing ponies,

“Doctor Folsom, are we ready to proceed with our next item on the agenda?”

The tan coloured unicorn stallion nodded, “Yes, Your Majesty. The subject has signed all the release papers and we can proceed whenever you are ready.”

“Excellent.” The grey pony said flipping his folder closed, “Then let us not tarry gentlecolts, I don’t like to keep ladies waiting.”

He rose to his hooves and left the room, the rest of them doing likewise and following him out like a duck with its chicks into the corridor. Unseen and unheard, Salty, Raven, and the little foal trotted after them. Salty leaned across to Raven,

“Who is that?” he whispered.

“Who?” Raven asked irritably.

“The one they called ‘Majesty’.”

Raven smiled back at him, “He’s the teapot king. He’s the one responsible for ensuring everypony in the Empire receives their allocation of tea leaves. We’re going to check on somepony now who’s raised concerns about the national shortage of matching lids.”

“I don’t remember’s ye being so damnably sarcastic.” Salty grumbled.

Raven clucked her tongue, “Then stop asking such stupid questions!”

“How the ‘ell am I supposed to know who ‘e be? ‘E’s likely been dead some thousand years by now!” Salty retorted.

“Shush!” Raven waved a hoof and the old sailor shut his mouth with a snap.

Salty gave up. He felt like he was in a dreamworld, stuck with a snippy mare and a silent foal, where the three of them were no more than ghosts to the spirits around them. Unfortunately, he realised, that was pretty much exactly what was going on. He shook his head, wishing he hadn’t squandered that bottle of brandy from the Captain. She’d said to share it, and he had…mostly. When he got back he’d ask Glass if he could…

“Ouch!”

Raven’s hoof was lethally accurate and cracked him painfully right on the fetlock. Salty glowered at her as she made frantic waving motions towards a door the other ponies had walked through. He suddenly realised, rather embarrassingly, she was trying to encourage him to follow them through.

On the other side was a long winding set of stairs, narrow corridors and, by the smell of it, an increasing amount of incense. It wasn’t especially unpleasant, but was certainly potent and was starting to make him feel a little woozy. Raven and the foal however didn’t seem to be affected by it in the slightest and they walked along after the others as if they were meant to be there. Giving himself a shake, Salty quickened his pace to catch up. As they walked, he marvelled at the magnificent tapestries hanging from the walls, the whole magical scene lit by row upon row of large crystal lamps hanging from golden chains making everything reflect with the most beautiful colours. They finally stopped by a small door, small at least compared to the others they’d passed in this vast structure, and waited. The one Salty had begun to think of as ‘The King’, hung his head a moment apparently lost in thought, and then smartly stepped forward and knocked. A few seconds later, the door opened a crack and an emerald green mare poked her nose out. She quickly bowed and backed away, allowing the party to enter.

It was a fairly well appointed room, with a four poster bed, a few cupboards and a dresser. Other than for the fact the whole room sparkled like the rest of the palace, it was a fairly mundane scene which had Salty scratching his head as to what was going on. Raven reached over and hooked a foreleg around his neck and guided him to the other side of the bed where he could have a better view of the occupant. He soon found himself staring at a familiar purple and lilac mane, only this one was poking out from the top of the mound of covers on the bed. He glanced at Raven, and then back to the bed; was this her sister? Her mother maybe? No…of course not. The silver-grey coat he could just about see was the giveaway, and besides, why would she bring him here to show him somepony he didn’t know?

The conversation on the other side of the room had woken the occupant. Slowly, the covers moved slightly, revealing a silver-grey head and a pair of eyes that looked surprisingly dull when compared with…

“Amethyst…” The King said quietly.

‘Amethyst’? Salty furrowed his brow, maybe this was a relative of Raven’s after all.

The voice from the bed sounded frighteningly weak, as the mare tried to speak,

“Y…your…”

The King reached out and gently stroked her mane, “Shhh, don’t push yourself Amy, everything’s going to be alright now.”

The mare gave a sad smile, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Beside her the white coated ponies stood in silence as the grey stallion closed his eyes a moment and looked away. Salty had seen that look before, the expression that spoke of an inner turmoil, an unimaginable pain that he clearly didn’t want the others to see. The King took a breath, his expression changing back to his more familiar one as he addressed the two before him,

“You are certain this will not harm her?”

“As far as we know, your majesty.” The tan stallion replied, “However, this is untested and…”

“Yes, yes, I know all that,” the King replied, “I did read the reports you sent me you know.” He shook his mane and gazed back at the bed, his voice quavering slightly, “Amy…”

The mare weakly tried to lift up a hoof, “I…It’s fine…I know…what…”

Beside her, the grey stallion squeezed his eyes shut and held her hoof to his muzzle, “Get out, all of you. Give me a minute with her…alone.”

Without another word, the others filed out, leaving the King, Amethyst and their unseen guests in the room. Instinctively, Salty moved to leave but a quick tap on the side of his head brought him up short. Raven was nodding towards the two ponies and waggling her eyebrows. He took a deep breath. Goddesses above, had she always been like this?

The King looked down with a kindly gaze upon the mare in the bed, “Amy, are you sure you want to go through with this?” She nodded. “If you do this,” he continued softly, “you’ll live on, but…changed, in that…” his words faded away, the stallion unable to drag the words forth.

She smiled up at him weakly, “I know…but…I can be…with you.”

The grey stallion sniffed loudly, wiping his eyes with his foreleg,

“Amy…” he leaned down and kissed her gently on the muzzle, “I love you so much.”

He stayed there for a while, his eyes closed and his ears drooping. It was a private moment, a moment of loss, of love, and such heart rending tragedy that it struck Salty surprisingly hard considering he didn’t know these two. He wanted to look away, to leave the two of them alone. This was…wrong; standing here like some ghoul waiting for the mare to…to what? Die?

Time passed. Beside him Raven stood quietly, her eyes taking in every word, every movement. She looked as if she were watching a play she’d seen a thousand times before, her lips moving silently in sync with the words of the ponies before her. It was touching, and yet a little disturbing at the same time. Had Raven lived her own passing like this, time after time, all along these centuries?

The orange foal had her hooves up on the bed and was watching intently. She reminded Salty of a sea sponge: the way she looked as though she were drawing in all the images and sounds around her with those large eyes. He could see it in her expression, that intent look, the way her ears swivelled. Although he knew the foal wasn’t really, well…a ‘real’ foal, Salty still couldn’t help but feel she shouldn’t be here watching this. He had no children of his own, but even so, having such a tiny thing watching something so heartbreaking felt…wrong.

Salty’s ruminations were interrupted as the King rose to his hooves and walked to the door,

“You can come in now, she’s ready.”

Salty closed his eyes as the two white overcoat wearing ponies entered once more and bowed to their king. The regal stallion turned to the first,

“Master Shipwright, Amethyst is prepared. You have everything you need?”

The Shipwright bowed, waving to another pony outside the door who walked in pushing a trolley with various strangely shaped items upon it. The King gave a grim smile,

“Carry on.”

Salty watched in amazement, and no degree of horror, as a strange silver and red wire framework was assembled around the bed. Next, the ponies began positioning a variety of other objects made of various metals and gems around the room; all of it focussed on the lone silver-grey mare lying still and quiet at its centre. While all of this was happening, another pony appeared in the doorway carrying a small black and gold lacquered box. Salty’s heart skipped a beat. Oh Goddesses…he’d seen that before…what was…? With a sudden horrible realisation, he knew what was going to happen and swallowed, looking away. He didn’t want to see this. He didn’t want to see what they were going to…

Something warm pushed against him. He didn’t need to see to know what, or rather who, it was. Raven was trembling.

“Raven,” Salty began, “do ye want ter leave love? We don’t need ter see this. Please…”

She closed her eyes and nodded silently.

The imagery about them began to change, just as the colourless crystal heart emerged from the box and was place at the centre of the metal construction above the mare. The room wavered, falling out of focus, before snapping back into view. They were on the dockside once more. This time there were no public, no hustle and bustle of life, only soldiers and the two white overcoat wearing stallions looking decidedly nervous at the top of the gangplank as the King walked towards them. Raven, Salty and the foal trotted along behind him, following the grey stallion up the gangplank and onto the deck of the sky galleon Salty had served on when he was little more than a colt. The old sailor hesitated, his heart leaping into his mouth as he suddenly found himself standing on the deck of his old ship, that most magnificent of vessels, his beloved Raven. She looked exactly as she always had…sleek, dark, mysterious and undeniably beautiful. But part of the allure of working her decks had been the connection he’d felt from her; the thoughts, the feelings, and the innocent sense of wonder she seemed to exude, but from this vessel, standing here now, there was nothing…nothing at all.

The party descended the stairs into the bowels of the ship and headed towards the stern. It was all too clear where they were going. Salty remembered it like it had only happened yesterday; the way the salt water kept rising, chilling his skin, the bright sunlight breaking in through the gaps in the opening timbers, holding his breath as he swam, his lungs burning, crying out for air, the fear coursing through him…

A hoof nudged him, shaking him gratefully out of his memories. The rest of the ponies had stopped by a small cupboard like room, that place he never thought he’d ever see again, and one he never wanted to either. One of the stallions levitated out the box containing the heart of the ship and placed it into a space that had been carved out for it. A quick glow of magic from his horn and the box was in place, never to move again. He backed away, bowing and allowing the king to step forward. Slowly and carefully, he lifted the lid of the box and looked inside. Salty couldn’t see, but he knew it was there; the crystal, the life that had once been a living breathing mare. He shut his eyes at the look distress on the King’s face. He never wanted to see that again - that look of pain, the horror in his eyes, and the dawning realisation of what they had done.

“Amy?” he whispered, “Can you hear me?”

Silence.

“Amy?” the King turned to the Master Shipwright, “I can’t hear anything.”

“Your Majesty,” the stallion replied, “if we return to the main deck, you should be able to sense her from there.

The King nodded, and together they trotted back up the stairs and into the sunlight on the Ravens deck where the dark grey stallion soon began to pace irritably,

“I still can’t feel anything, gentlecolts. Will somepony tell me what is happening here? You told me this would work!”

Salty felt a sudden chill run through him and took an involuntary step back as the king’s gaze turned hard and cold. He swallowed. This was a pony you didn’t want to cross, and the Master Shipwright knew it. The poor fellow all but shrank back in fright,

“Y…Your Majesty, please, it could take some time. This is untested magical…”

Salty’s heart leaped into his chest at the King rounded on the stallion,

“-UNTESTED?!” he roared, “Did you say it was UNTESTED?!” A wave of menace and danger emanated from the King as he raised himself up to his full height, his teeth bared,

“You told me it would work! And now you told me you haven’t even tested this?” Magic began to seep out from him, drawing in the very light around him, “You used Amy as…as an ‘EXPERIMENT’?”

“No!” the Shipwright shrieked, “Please! Your Majesty, place your hooves on the ship’s wheel and try to reach for her, she should be there!”

The King narrowed his eyes, his maroon gaze boring into the terrified Shipwright,

“She had better be, Folsom.” He hissed, “Or I shall see how you enjoy the ‘procedure’ yourself.”

The Shipwright went white as a sheet.

Walking slowly up to the ship’s wheel, the king placed his forehooves on it and closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. Salty nearly jumped out of his skin as Raven pushed into him, her body soft and comforting, and yet, he felt so afraid inside, a feeling he couldn’t quite identify. Was it hers? Or his? Maybe it was being here on the deck, listening, waiting for…

A cry of anger rose from the King, a shout of helpless rage and pain morphing into one despairing bellow that made the whole ship shudder horribly. The grey stallion looked back over his shoulder at the two stallions,

“She doesn’t remember me…” he closed his eyes and pulled himself away from the wheel, “Why…why doesn’t she remember me?”

The Master Shipwright bowed, “Your Majesty, the heart needs time to adjust and…”

The stallion gasped as the bright glow of purple magic suddenly enveloped his neck. Salty lifted his hoof up to his own in sympathy as the stricken stallion was hoisted off the deck. The King’s magic was frighteningly powerful, and even as an earth pony, Salty could feel the barely restrained deadly force of it being employed. The King snarled,

“You…LIAR!” He shook the struggling tan stallion, bringing the terrified creature near so they were eye to eye, “You told me she wouldn’t lose anything that made her who she is!” he lifted the Shipwright even higher into the air where the dangling stallion started to choke and struggle. “You put her through that torment, through that hell…FOR THIS?!”

The other white coated stallion gingerly stepped forward,

“Er…Your Majesty…we, um, we may be able to help coax her memories to the fore. She most likely is, er, suffering from shock from the transfer to the new body. It must be quite a, um, new experience for her.”

With a thump, the magic winked out and the choking, gasping Folsom was unceremoniously dumped onto the deck. The King advanced on the one who’d addressed him,

“You’d better,” he said quietly, “Or I will find a ‘new experience’ for you. And I can assure you, both of you, it will be the last one you will ever have.” The dark grey stallion stepped forward, his eyes narrowing menacingly, “Now get off my ship.”

Virtually falling over themselves, the two white overcoat wearing ponies dashed down the gangplank, leaving the King alone on the deck. Salty watched in silence as the dark grey unicorn sank to his haunches and leaned his head back, tears leaking from his eyes as he gritted his teeth in the most unimaginable grief. He shook, choking back his sobs while the three watchers looked on at this most private of scenes. Salty turned his head away, while Raven, her eyes wet with her own tears, walked up to the grieving ruler of the Crystal Empire. She reached out to him, her face full of pain and sorrow, but her hooves passed right through him as though they were nothing more substantial than those of a ghost. Salty looked down at the little foal and let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding in. The little one probably didn’t fully understand what was going on, and it was maybe just as well; who would want to see this? Who would…he paused. Raven did didn’t she? That was the whole point of bringing them here; so they could see her for who, or rather ‘what’ she was.

“Amy…”

Salty could hear the mare’s name being uttered by the stallion who must have loved her more than he could ever imagine.

“Amy…I’m so sorry…I’m so, so sorry…”

Salty wanted to leave, to go back to the ship. This was too much for him. He wasn’t good with emotions, and it was one of the main reasons why he’d never bothered with females for anything more than a little warm company on a cold night. Salty closed his eyes. He didn’t know what to say, or what to do. For that matter, what could he do? Nothing! Goddesses, when was this going to end?

Raven walked up beside him, her voice soft and gentle,

“He really loved me, you know. He didn’t say it very often, but I knew…a mare always knows.”

The words were meant more for her herself and the world around her than for the old cream and brown helmspony, but Salty understood. His heart cried out for her, wanting to console her and make this right. But he knew, that for these two, the world had moved on…a very, very long time ago. He hung his head. The world could be a truly cold place sometimes. He spoke softly,

“Who were ye, Raven? Who be Amy?”

Raven sniffed, her mouth curling up in a sardonic smile, “Who indeed.”

“Ye be the Queen o’ the Empire…” he breathed.

“Me?” Raven chuckled, “No, just a courtesan. King Sombra never married. But of all the mares he favoured, I was always his favourite.” She smiled sadly, “But…yes, I had hoped that one day he would have proposed to me.” Raven shook her head, “it was never to be…” she trailed off, “never to be.”

Salty had never heard such heartache in a voice before. He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to flee, to get away from all of this. And yet despite it all he wanted to help her, to do something, anything that would mend this and make it right for her. Raven turned away from the King and gave Salty a brief nuzzle,

“If only you could, dear Salty.”

“I’m sorry…” was all he could manage.

Raven’s face changed to one of shock, and then kindness, “You’re sorry? Why?”

He looked up at her, his eyes wet with tears, “Because…if there be anypony in the world I would ‘ave…” he couldn’t finish. Raven smiled at him. She knew anyway, she’d always known. The ship, the mare, had always understood Salty’s heart better than anypony he’d ever known in his entire life. He’d dedicated himself to her, given, in some way, his own heart to her….willingly. The sparkling silver-grey mare gave him a nudge,

“Let’s go, Salty…” she said sadly, “I’ve seen this too many times already.”

In the time it took for the old sailor to blink, the ship, the dock, the King and everypony around them had vanished, replaced by a…a study? Salty looked around himself in wonder at it all. It was indeed a study, with dark oak panelled walls, a grandfather clock ticking away in the corner, deep rich rugs and a log fire crackling away adding light and warmth to the room. It was…comforting, and intensely feminine. A delicately carved oak table took centre place, covered over with a delicate lace table cloth, a tasteful vase of fragrant flowers and a cake stand. Pictures of puppies, watercolours of landscapes and lacy ‘things’ hung everywhere.

“Do you like it?” Raven asked quietly.

“This…this be yer home?”

“Aye, that it be.” Raven chuckled, teasing Salty with her emulation of his manner of speech, “Welcome to my home from home, so to speak.”

The old sailor shook his head in amazement as he took it all in, “It’s…very you.”

“Hmph!” Raven snorted, “I’d hoped for something a little more descriptive! You could have tried ‘how is this possible?!’, or maybe ‘it’s beautiful!’ or,” she waved a hoof vaguely, “something like that.”

“I meant it be feminine, like ye.” Salty scrubbed his mane, “I not be good with words, Raven, ye know that already, so stop teasing me, please.”

The mare walked over to him, so close the old sailor took a step back in surprise, but she pressed in until she was barely inches away,

“Teasing you?” Raven let out a low rumble, “You don’t know what teasing is, my helmspony. Perhaps…I should show you?”

Salty gasped as she reached out for him,

“Now…where should I…” She breathed on his ear making him shudder, “…begin…”

With a sudden bark of laughter, Raven bounced away, her eyes sparkling,

“Now that, Mister Salty, is teasing!” She giggled, waggling her rump at him, “Besides, with a foal here, it wouldn’t be appropriate for you to…shall we say, ‘take the helm’?”

Salty could feel his cheeks burning like they’d been branded, but all that seemed to do was make the infuriating mare laugh all the more. Eventually though, she’d had enough of her play and dropped into one of the chairs by the fire. Waving a hoof, she beckoned the old sailor to sit opposite her. Salty sat quietly, looking into the fire while Raven watched him with her large reflective eyes. She was clearly expecting him to say something, he could see that, but what he didn’t know, was what to say. He was no good with words, let alone mares! His mind was racing through the events in the city, everything he’d seen and heard there running through his mind: the dock, the streets, the whole ‘crystaliness’ of it all…was that even a word? And…and what they’d done to her! He felt sickened, angry, and saddened all at once. These were all emotions he tried not to experience if he could help it, usually with the help of a bottle of brandy or two. But there was one thing that was niggling at him - a name, a name one of the Shipwrights had said…

It popped into Salty’s head like a flash of light and came straight out of his mouth,

“SOMBRA!”

Raven smiled, “Nothing wrong with your hearing then.”

“Aye! But…wait, if he be King Sombra, then he were, well, the Princesses…” Salty rubbed his muzzle in consternation. If he said what he was going to say, then Raven could be hurt, and this mare had suffered more than enough already. She certainly didn’t need him opening his big mouth. Unfortunately, she could also read his thoughts as if they were written on the pages of an open book,

“In answer to your question,” she said pleasantly, “he wasn’t always as the history books no doubt paint him now. He was a good pony, a wonderful and kind ruler whom everypony loved back home.” She looked away slightly, staring at a point past Salty as she continued, “He changed. The war, the demands of running the Empire, and what happened to me…” She hung her head, her eyes sad and distant, “In some ways, I blame myself for…”

“-How can ye blame yer self?” Salty said suddenly, cutting her off, “That fella had a mind o’ ‘is own didn’t ‘e? ‘e didn’t ‘ave ter do what ‘e did, ‘e ‘ad a choice, we all ‘ave a choice. An’ look what ‘appened! The whole Empire, gone, just like that! All those ponies, innocent foals, mares, everypony…gone!”

Raven’s eyes blazed, “And what do you know about it? You don’t know him! Nopony knew him! Not like me! You all ostracised him, like he was some sort of demon, when all he wanted was to protect his people! Was that so wrong? They were dying, Salty! Dying!”

The old sailor hung his head, “Raven, I don’t know what to say to ye. I just…I don’t want to see ye cry. I not be much good with big words an’ all that fancy stuff, I just be a simple stallion who works the decks. If I could do somethin’ to make things right for ye, I would. I…” he suddenly found himself becoming tongue tied and gave a light whinny, “Oh, I don’t know! Ye know more about me than I knows about meself, Raven.”

The mare nodded,

“They made a Captain for me you know, with magic; one to sail me for the Empire. I was used, not for trade, but for war. I didn’t mind though I suppose, so long as I could still see him.” She smiled distantly, “Over time my memories did come back, but for Sombra, it was never enough. He wanted me to be as I had been before, and I don’t think he could ever accept what had happened to me and it haunted him. I could see it in his eyes, and when he touched me…in his heart.” She took one of the cakes and stared at it, “The war dragged on, and more and more ships were planned, but then he…he began forcing ponies to become one with the crystal, to become the heart of the ship. His desperation to end the war began to darken his heart and he turned to magics nopony should ever have used. I saw him change from the much loved ruler he was to the…the monster he became.” She shook her head sadly, “It was very hard, Salty, so hard, when Sombra and the Empire...left. I was so frightened and alone, with one Captain passing on and another taking over, time and time again. So many years, I can’t even remember how long ago it was now.” She smiled up at him, “And then I met a young sailor, one with a light and delicate touch upon my wheel.”

Salty blushed, “I…oh…”

“Can you see now?” Raven said looking at the little foal, “Can you see why I don’t want to lose all of that? If I merge with her, all those moments may be lost, like tears in a rainstorm.”

The little orange foal gazed up at Salty and then at Raven, slowly walking up to her. Raven, rather than backing away, merely watched her approach until the foal sat down on her haunches beside Raven’s chair and fixed her with those big round eyes. The orange foal never spoke, never uttered a word, she just… reached out a hoof, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Raven stared at her,

“I suppose you have your own story to tell, don’t you…little sister.”

Salty watched in silence as Raven reached down and carefully encircled the foal in her forelegs, lifting her up into her lap,

“I bet I know some big pony likes cake!”

The tiny foal smiled and clopped her hooves together in delight. With a grin, Raven passed her one of the brightly coloured treats and the young foal, the personification of the King Sombra’s Revenge, gave a huge beaming grin. She reached up with her tiny forelegs and hugged the silver-grey mare who smiled happily at her, kissing her gently on the muzzle. Salty watched wide eyed as the foal suddenly began to glow; a bright fluorescent orange light emanating from her, rapidly growing in intensity and spreading outwards, engulfing Raven and expanding until it filled the entire room. Salty closed his eyes, trying to keep his fear under control, but…nothing happened. There was no pain, no discomfort, only…warmth. The sensation of unconditional love flowed through him, carrying with it a sensation of caring, of joy and laughter, a foals love for her mother or, in this case, her older sister. Images of past Captains and crew, of sailing high above the clouds in the pure blue sky, the sun bright above them, filled Salty’s eyes. There were the stars at night, beautifully clear and exotically alluring, there was the coast of Llamalia, with its white sands, white painted buildings and equally exotic inhabitants. Voyages, singing, happiness, all of it laid out for Raven and Salty to see. Finally, the tempo of the memories began to slow. The ones the foal showed now featured the smiling face of the odd eyed stallion Haggis, Salty, Stock, Cyclone, but predominantly, the red coated mare with the bright yellow mane…Captain Gretel.

The last image filled Salty with an overwhelming sense of joy, protectiveness, love and caring. This tiny life, the ‘soul’ of the Revenge, really was as innocent as she looked. He smiled to himself and felt a wash of contentment flood through him making his spine tingle. Slowly, softly, the images began to fade, the study returning with Raven sat on her own, staring at the fireplace, her face an unreadable mask. Of the foal however, there was no sign.

“Raven?” Salty ventured.

“She’s with me now,” the mare replied calmly, staring straight ahead, “and I with her. It seems, strange, the memories of two, now one, within me.”

Salty felt his heart sink. This was what he’d wanted wasn’t it? To merge the two, to see them become one single, stable entity. That had been his goal…right? But now when he looked at her, she seemed different, softer somehow, as though she’d been ‘smoothed’ almost. Salty shook his head and felt a shudder run through his body. She’d changed, the Raven he knew and…loved, gone…forever. Grief threatened to take him, but he held back, keeping himself as calm as he could. Soon he would be back on the ship, and by the Goddesses, he was going to get so drunk they’d have to mop him off the floor.

Raven…Amy…Revenge, or whoever she was now, smiled at him,

“I haven’t forgotten you, Salty.” She got up from the chair and approached him, her smile so familiar and yet so alien, “You made us whole, brought us back…home.”

Home?

The mare smiled, “I long to fly, to feel the wind in my sails and the clouds beneath my keel. I want…I need to be free!” she grinned at Salty, “Will you take my helm?”

Salty returned her smile, “Aye my love, with pleasure.”

Suddenly the mare bopped him on the nose,

“Naughty!”

Before he could say any more, the startled stallion found himself lying in sick bay with several concerned ponies staring down at him. Doc nodded to him,

“Welcome back, sailor.”

Haggis pushed in, gaving him a stern look, “Goddesses you had us worried, you’ve been gone for hours.”

The Captain’s voice called over from the next bed, “About bloody time, Salty.” She chuckled, “But a damned good job sir, damned good job. I’ll have to owe you a bottle though Salty, don’t think I’m going anywhere anytime soon.”

Salty began thrashing in the sheets, pulling himself out of the bed and onto his hooves. Doc tried to stop him, but it was too late,

“She needs to set sail, Cap’n” Salty announced, his eyes wide with urgency, “She has to fly!”

Gretel nodded, “And she will, I assure you of that Mister Salty. We have a job to do, and I expect everypony on this crew to be at their best. That includes, naturally, the Revenge’s helmsponies.”

“Aye, Cap’n!” Salty and Haggis replied together.

Doc layed a hoof on Salty’s shoulder, his voice low, “Salty, the Captain has a broken leg, and there’s Pickles’ funeral tomorrow. Do you think the Revenge can wait a couple of days?”

Salty nodded slowly, his enthusiasm draining away, “Aye, Doc, I reckon she will.”

From beneath her, Gretel could feel the Revenge’s joy. The sky galleon was singing a happy refrain that even if most of them could not hear it, they still could sense it. The liveliness, the contentedness of the old ship was back, only this time there was more; a spirit and drive that made the red mare want to leap from her bed and simply…move. She smiled to herself, quietly wishing her father and mother could have been here to see the sky galleon as she should have been…complete and ready to sail. Gretel closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, letting the song of the waves and clouds lull her to sleep.

***********************

The Revenge’s Captain slept soundly for the first time in what seemed like ages. The song of the ship and the happiness flowing from her, made her feel more relaxed than she probably should do right then with such a nasty break. Doc had done what he could, but it had still hurt like hell. Fortunately, she was so full of painkilling herbs that she couldn’t feel nor care about much at all right then, at least, not until she’d had some more sleep. Unfortunately, morning came all too quickly and Gretel awoke with a yawn, then a hiss of pain as her body reminded her of what had happened to her leg. Doc trotted over,

“Sleep well?”

“Better than I have in ages.” Gretel replied honestly, “Damned things killing me though, Doc. Can I have some more of those herbs?”

Doc nodded, “Of course, just a second.”

He moved to his cabinet and quickly returned with a bottle of bright green liquid which Gretel took gratefully.

“Let’s have a look at that leg of yours,” he said in his usual businesslike tone, lifting the corned of the bed sheet.

Doc furrowed his brow as he gently examined the leg.

“Morning!” Strata’s chirpy voice drifted in through the open door, “Oooh, that looks nasty!”

Gretel rolled her eyes and tried to pretend the infuriating unicorn wasn’t there, staring at her hind leg. Doc fortunately was the consummate professional and gently, but firmly, manoeuvred his friend away from his current staring position which was no more than a few inches from Gretel’s flank. Thank the Goddess for that! Unfortunately however, the blue coated ships doctor didn’t appear to share his friend’s bubbly enthusiasm. A wave of dread flowed through her at his expression,

“Doc? What is it?”

“Gretel…” Doc began, rubbing his muzzle, “Your leg’s badly broken. I won’t mince words with you though,” he looked her in the eye, “i’m not sure we can save it.”

The Captain’s face paled, “Oh…”

“Even if we did,” Doc continued, “you may never walk properly again, not without pain.”

Gretel nodded slowly, “What are the options Doc?”

Doc’s face darkened, “We can strap and peg it, hoping it will heal, or…”

“Or?”

“Or we can remove it.” Doc finished levelly.

“No.” Gretel said emphatically, “I won’t meet Chalky as half a mare. Pain or no pain, it’s not happening Doc. We’ll go with option one.”

Doc’s eyes reflected the lamplight in the sickbay, his expression one of concern but still carrying that level of professional neutrality she’d seen him use with ponies before,

“Captain,” he began, “You realise it may never heal properly don’t you? Sooner or later it’ll probably have to…”

“I don’t give a damn!” Gretel snapped, “I’m not going to see my…” she trailed off. Taking a deep breath, she looked back up at Doc, “I’ve already given my answer Doc.”

A voice from behind them made them look up in surprise,

“Um…Captain? Doc? I may be able to, you know, do something?”

Gretel and Doc stared at Strata. His innocent expression had a peculiarly endearing effect, even if he did have an uncanny knack of driving you up the wall with his incessant twaddle. Doc pushed him away from the bed and spoke quietly to him out of earshot of the Captain. Whatever it was about, Strata seemed to be getting the worst of it as Doc waved his hooves and spoke in a low, no nonsense tone. Gretel had had enough,

“Hoy! You two, I’m right here you know. What’s going on?”

Strata poked his head over Doc’s neck, “Well, using…”

“STOP!” Gretel shouted suddenly, “Don’t you dare start giving me all that usual mumbo jumbo you come out with, Mister Strata, just…” she softened her voice, “please, to the point.”

Doc shot the indigo unicorn a stern look but his friend gently pushed past him waggling his eyebrows and stuck his tongue out cheekily.

“Well, Mister Strata?” Gretel asked.

Strata seemed to be struggling with some sort of inner turmoil. His eyes darting this way and that while he constantly fidgeted with his hooves. By the Goddess, even his tail was swishing incessantly!

“Mister Strata!”

“Oh! Sorry Captain, I…” he scratched his neck, “It’s difficult to explain, you know, without using magical terminology.”

Gretel groaned, “So, let me make this easier for you.” She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, “You can fix my leg with magic. Right?”

Strata clopped his forehooves together,

“That’s right! Well done, Captain! Gosh, you earth ponies are full of surprises!”

The Captain’s eye began to twitch. Goddess forgive her, how she’d love to ‘surprise’ Strata one day with an earth pony hoof in his bloody arrogant face! That infuriating creature seemed to see earth ponies as some kind of blasted sub-species, a sort of lumbering, mumbling, lump that was only one step up from cave ponies. Gretel would have words with him one day…long and meaningful words…

She saw Doc face hoof and shook her head with a smirk. It appeared Doc already had spoken to him. For that matter, since Doc was an earth pony himself, did Strata treat him differently? Or did he still get the ‘all earth ponies are village idiots’ line which his cheeky little pal quite obviously believed. She closed her eyes and tried to find the calm within herself. This wasn’t the time for that sort of discussion. Right now she need help, and if the horned nuisance could do something practical, she was all for it.

“Doc?” Gretel asked looking across at the worried expression on his face, “Any thoughts?”

Doc shook his head, “Not really. Magical healing is a field of study I haven’t much experience in, not being a ‘superior life-form’ and all that.”

Gretel couldn’t help but raise a smile at his comment. If Strata heard it, he didn’t let on; rather he was busy scratching at a spot on his muzzle.

“Strata? Are you still with us?” The Captain asked hopefully.

“Hmm? Oh!” He gave his mane a shake, “Right then, if we’ve finished taking a break,” he sniggered, “are you happy for me to ‘crack’ on?”

“Doc?” Gretel said quietly.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Can you give me something to knock me out?” Gretel glowered at Strata, “So I don’t have to listen to your friend’s bloody voice!”

“Oh, I can do that, Captain,” Strata smiled beside her, “In fact…you’ll need to be…” he had a strange look about him that worried her. In fact, she could feel her heart beginning to race already. There was something about this pony, another side to him that…

Strata suddenly leaned down, his horn glowing until it touched the Captain’s forehead,

“And…BOP!”

Gretel’s world turned black. Goddess, that…that bloody unicorn! Why had she agreed to this?! She began to pace back and forth, worried sick that…hang on…what the hell?! Where was she? What was going on here!?

“So…you are the Captain? Captain…Gretel?”

A silvery grey coated earth pony mare with a lilac and purple mane stood before her, staring at her with eyes that looked like they were made of every colour in the rainbow. Gretel gasped and took a step back in alarm,

“Who…who are you?”

“Didn’t Salty say?” the mare asked curiously, “Well, I don’t suppose I’m that surprised, he is a stallion after all.” she cocked her head on one side, “I have…memories of you, and your father, and yet I’ve never met you. Strange.” She furrowed her brow, “But not unexpected I suppose.” The mare walked up to her, peering at her coat closely, “I like your coat colour. It’s such a shame the Empire is no more, else I’m certain you would have looked simply magnificent.” She scratched her chin, “Your mane needs a lot of work though. I think you could do with visiting a proper mane dresser.”

Gretel’s mind was reeling. Who…ah, of course, ‘memories’…

“Are you…are you the King Sombra’s Revenge?” she asked with mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

“Who? Oh! You mean the name your father gave me? Or rather ‘her’, I suppose.” The silver-grey mare shrugged demurely, “It doesn’t matter really, does it? I have had several names, even having the fleet named after me.” She snorted, “How noble!”

“Your name is Amethyst?” Gretel said in surprise.

“Humph!” the mare sniffed, “Quite astute of you, Captain. Yes, that was my name, but later, who I ‘was’ ceased to matter, and I simply became ‘the ship’, the ‘Raven’s Eye’, or ‘Raven’, as Salty likes to call me.”

“But…what happened to….?”

“-The Revenge?” The mare said with a flick of her tail, “She’s here, within me. We…share each other in a way, but are still one. I can’t really explain it very well I’m afraid, I’m not a Shipwright.” She smiled, “But rest assured, the Revenge and I shall serve you well, my Captain.”

Gretel didn’t know what to say, her mind was reeling with everything she was trying to take in. How the hell did Salty cope? Did he always see her like this? Speak to her in this way?

“No.” The mare replied shaking her head, her large eyes twinkling in some unseen light, “We talked, but it was only after Salty saved me from spending an eternity on the bottom of the ocean that I learned how to…how can I say…’create’ the world you see before you.”

The mare swept her foreleg out before her and the world of darkness wavered, coalescing into an elegant gazebo, complete with the most beautifully ornate table and matching chairs Gretel had ever seen. All manner of sweet smelling flowers climbed up the elaborate marble pillars around them, while in the distance, ponies played cricket, the occasion ‘thwack’ of the batspony hitting the ball adding to the strangely enchanting atmosphere. Gretel couldn’t stop staring at it all. She felt oddly out of place here, whereas Raven, Amethyst, or whoever she was, blended in seamlessly.

Gretel tore her eyes away from the beauty of her surroundings and addressed her host,

“What should I call you?”

The silver-grey mare shrugged,

“Whatever you wish, I don’t mind.” She lifted her hoof, indicating to the silver service beside her, “Tea?”

“Er…yes, thank you.” Gretel stammered.

“It’s Llamalian Dark Forest, a purer blend than many, and really quite rich. I hope you like it.” The mare poured the tea out and smiled, “May I call you Gretel?”

The Captain smiled back, relieved at the mare’s question, “Yes, of course. I’d be happy if you did.”

The mare nodded, “In which case, you may call me Amy. As for Salty,” she smiled, “I think I shall always be Raven.”

“I think that’s going to be a little challenging for me,” Gretel chuckled, “I’ve always known you as the King Sombra’s Revenge. Calling you Amy may be tricky for the crew to…”

Amy lifted her hoof forestalling the Captain, her lilting laugh drifting out across the manicured lawns of lush grass, “Oh, please, Gretel, this is just between us! The crew and everypony else needn’t know of our meetings like this. Believe me, deckhooves don’t tend to be the brightest tools in the set, although I suspect you already know that.”

Gretel laughed, “I do, Amy. But that said, they’re a good lot at heart. A little rough, certainly, but good ponies every stallion and mare of them.” She nodded to the tea, “I’m not really a tea drinker, brandy is more my thing, but I have to say you were absolutely right…this is delicious!”

“Ah! Another connoisseur at long last!” Amy waved a hoof in the air in delight, “Please, try the pastries, these are from Yakistan. Now, I don’t normally hold with food from the north, but these are simply divine.”

“I can’t say I’ve ever really had any myself,” Gretel said nibbling on one of the sweet treats, “I haven’t had much to do with Yaks. They’re quite an aggressive lot I find.”

Amy shrugged, “Oh, yes…very much so.” She looked a little distant and stared out across the cricket pitch.

“Amy, I’m not really here am I?” Gretel asked quietly, “I mean, I’m back in sick bay having…’things’ done to me.”

The silvery mare nodded, sipping her tea thoughtfully. Her voice was sad and a little distant somehow, “I’m sorry you were hurt, Gretel, it was my fault.” She kept looking out at the ongoing match.

“You didn’t force me to run down the stairs you know.” Gretel replied. She closed her eyes, savouring the wonderful earthiness of the tea, “I’m a grown mare and I’d sure as hell berate any of my crew for doing something so bloody stupid to themselves.”

“You were trying to help me…both of us.” Amy said quietly, “So, yes, it is my fault, even if indirectly.”

The Captain snorted, “Pah! Accidents happen.”

Amy took another cake, a small lemon coloured sponge with delicate icing. Gretel’s eyes were drawn to it - she’d have one of those next. Distracted, Amy’s next words caught her by surprise,

“I can show you if you like,” the silver mare said absently, “the Shipwright is doing a magnificent job on repairing your leg. He has quite a delicate touch for such a young stallion.”

Gretel paled, “You can see what they’re doing to me?”

Amy nodded.

“Then I’d rather not.” Gretel continued, “Sometimes ignorance is bliss, and right now I’m enjoying the bliss part.” “Long may it continue…” she added in a mutter. Gretel shook her mane and yawned, noting the frowning look of disapproval from Amy,

“What?”

“Ladies do not shake their manes.” The silvery coated mare said indignantly, “It’s uncouth and undignified.”

Gretel raised an eyebrow, “It is?”

“Yes, very.”

“Just as well I’m not then” Gretel laughed.

Amy looked confused, “Uncouth and undignified?”

“No,” Gretel replied, “a lady.”

“Humph!” Amy snorted loudly in response, “You may say that, but inside every mare is a grace and nobility that can elevate her above the level of the gutter. It’s up to her to realise her own potential, or not as the case may be.”

Gretel began to feel a little rankled at the direction this conversation was heading, “Look, I’m the Captain of a ship full of mares and ponies who haul ropes, climb rigging and scrub decks. They’re stuffed into a wooden hulled vessel for days, sometimes weeks on end. Do you really think they want a graceful and noble mare as their Captain?” she sniffed, “Of course not! They want a rough tough leader of ponies, one they can rely on to make the right decisions and keep them safe.”

Amy gave her a peculiar smile, her eyes twinkling, “But what about the Captain herself?”

Gretel raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

“You have a life too, Gretel.” Amy said pointedly, “You know what I’m talking about…and who.” She suddenly grinned wickedly; an almost lewd expression passing across her face, “I saw you, you know…you and that white unicorn. He had quite a lot of stamina in him for such a frail thing. They’re not like earth ponies you know, not that much ‘go’ in them, but what they can do with that magic…”

“Good Goddess!” Gretel barked nearly choking on her cake, “You…you saw that?!”

Amy rolled her eyes, “Of course, you did do all that inside my hull remember?” she waved a hoof across her nose, “I can still sm…”

Gretel clopped her hoof on the table, “-Stop it! Please, Amy!”

The silvery mare threw her head back and laughed, the table shaking with her raucus laughter until, eventually, it subsided. Amy lifted her foreleg and wiped the tears away from her eyes,

“I’m sorry, Gretel!” she giggled, “I couldn’t resist it! The poor thing showed me everything: all the memories, sights and sounds of her life, including ‘that’! Goodness, I was so shocked!”

Something in the mare’s voice suggested that she was far from shocked and certainly no stranger to what happened in private between a stallion and a mare. She gave the cheeky creature a hard look and received a knowing smirk in return; a smirk that infuriatingly reminded her of the bloody creature that was working on her as they spoke. She shuddered. Maybe she shouldn’t be thinking about blood right now.

The silver-grey mare placed her cup delicately back on the saucer, “I believe they are finished now, Captain Gretel.” She smiled sadly, “I will have to send you back now. You need proper rest to help your body heal.”

“Wait!” Gretel said urgently raising a hoof, “Amy, you said ‘Shipwright’ before. They disappeared with the Empire didn’t they? I mean, there haven’t been any sky galleons built for hundreds of years!”

“Maybe…” the enigmatic silvery mare said shrugging, “But I know the feel of one all too well.” She raised an eyebrow, fixing Gretel with a decidedly worrying expression, “Why don’t you ask him yourself when you see him? He’s the one who’s saved your leg after all.”

“Strata?” Gretel asked in amazement.

“The indigo unicorn? Yes…” Amy wiped dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a white serviette, “Now, I’m afraid its time for sleep young lady. We shall talk again soon enough.”

Gretel opened her mouth to protest but it was hopeless, the silver-grey mare was the ruler in this world - a virtual goddess in her own right with the power to create and manipulate everything around her. In some ways that sort of power sounded enticing, but to spend eternity in what was, essentially, your own mind, wasn’t something Gretel envied. It sounded more like an image of hell.

Around her the scene faded out to black and then to a more familiar faint light, the light of lanterns hanging near the bed she was lying in. Gretel felt decidedly groggy, but other than that, surprisingly well considering what they’d done. Come to think of it, what had they done? What…what if they’d had to…? She opened her eyes and tried to move, only to be stopped by a hoof gently pressing her back down,

“Captain, please don’t move about, it’s going to take a while for your stitches to heal.”

“Stitches…” Gretel mumbled, still a little unfocussed, “My leg?”

Doc smiled slightly, “It’s alright, in fact, its going be better than alright. Strata did an amazing job replacing the bone and repairing the damaged muscle.”

Gretel’s heart leaped, “Replaced?! What do you mean replaced?”

“The bone was shattered,” Doc explained, “Strata made a new one from a type of crystal I’ve never seen before, it was incredible. He used his magic to mould it and…”

Gretel coughed, “Tha…thanks Doc,” she wheezed feeling a little nauseous at the mental imagery, “could you pass me some water?”

“Sure.”

“By the way, where’s Strata?” The Captain asked, accepting the bowl of water from the doctor, “I want to speak to him.”

The blue stallion shook his head as he glanced towards the next bed, “He’s there, asleep. Poor fellow was exhausted. I’ve never seen a unicorn use magic like that before, it was quite astounding.”

Gretel nodded, gazing at the lump under the bed covers, one indigo coloured ear poking out of the top. She smiled. It didn’t matter who he was, or what he was for that matter. This stallion had saved her leg and for that, if nothing else, he deserved her thanks and admiration. In a way, it seemed strangely ironic that a ‘Shipwright’ had mended the Captain whose life was linked to the vessel she served on; ironic and almost…prophetic somehow. Gretel took a deep breath and sighed it out,

“Doc, about mum’s funeral, will I be able to travel do you think?”

“I don’t know,” Doc said honestly, “the real doctor here is asleep at the minute. I’ll ask him for you when he wakes up. For now though, Captain, your ships surgeon orders you to get some sleep.”

“But i’ve only just woken up!” Gretel protested.

A hoof tapped her on the nose, “No excuses, now…” Doc tucked the covers in around her and gave her a fatherly look, “Goodnight, Gretel.”

***************************

Rain hammered down, drowning out the words of the priest and the sobs of the mares as the casket was lowered into the ground. As per her wishes, Pickles’ body had been cremated, the ashes placed in a small white casket with tasteful silver inlay. In some ways it was a reflection of her personality; neat, clean and with a practicality of outlook that Gretel hoped she’d inherited. She watched in silence as her mothers physical remains vanished forever into that hole and took her turn placing a shovel full of earth into it until the casket disappeared from sight for the last time. She was alone now in the world, at least as far as family was concerned. It was strange to think of the Revenge, or ‘Amy’ even, as family, but really, she still was despite having changed somewhat. Then there was the crew - that rough and tumble band of deck hooves that made every day fresh and new in their own unique way. Gretel took a deep breath. She had so much more than a lot of ponies had in this world. So many of them had lost everything in that terrible war, in many cases, even their own lives. She lifted a single red rose and tossed it onto the grave, her heart feeling as heavy as lead.

“Goodbye Mum”

Gretel gave her muzzle a rub. The sowester wasn’t exactly dignified for this, but mum would have understood. She always had. Goddess help her; if only she’d bothered to listen to her, discussed things with her sooner, maybe this wouldn’t have... She gritted her teeth. Why was she always so bloody stubborn?! But of course, that could be said to have applied to both of them. It was too late now anyway, far, far too late. The eternal herd had a new recruit, and the Goddess help them all. Gretel turned away, followed by Doc and Salty. Strata, who didn’t know Pickles, had gone back to his home to collect some of his personal items to keep on board. She’d not had much of a chance to talk to him since she’d been back on her hooves, but the story amongst the crew had spread like wildfire nonetheless. No doubt a certain cream and brown stallion not standing a million miles from her right now had something to do with that. As if saving her leg wasn’t remarkable enough, Strata had now been credited with ‘saving the Captain’s life’. The more he’d tried to deny it, the more the crew believed it. He was ‘just be modest’ after all!

The three of them walked in silence. Gretel didn’t want to speak to the other mares there, they were all wrapped up in their own world of sorrow for the one they’d seen as their own mother. In reality, she was probably more mother to them than she had been to her own daughter, if you looked at the amount of time they’d spent together, and years of pointless hate were hard to forget…even if they were nothing more than foolishness. Conflicting emotions crashed through her mind as she walked, climbing the gangplank and straight into her cabin without a word. Gretel was in a daze. She hadn’t even said goodbye to anypony, not even Hay Wain who’d paid for most of the funeral. Now, she sat in her cabin, alone and lost in her thoughts…

You’re not alone.

The voice of the ship soaked through her, up her scarred leg, her scarred body and warmed her tortured mind. She hated this world sometimes, the way it caused pain and suffering then just carried on as if it was of absolutely no importance whatsoever. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She’d lost her dad and now her mother, their lives snuffed out like candles. Gretel choked back a sob as the tears rolled down her cheeks; it wasn’t fair…none of it! She’d just found her mother after all these years of lies, lies and stupidity! And now some bastard had murdered her, and for what? Why? Goddess damn them, if she ever found out who’d done this she’d gut them and leave what was left for the rats to devour. Grief rolled through the red mare, taking her away on a tide of sorrow that lead to the bottle rack. Somepony, possibly Doc, had resupplied it and she quickly found the clear glass bottles of the finest Yak brandy…Goddess bless him. Gretel pulled out the cork with her teeth and began to drink. No glass this time, she just wanted to ease the pain, to drown out the emptiness and heartache with the fiery spirit that was filling her belly. She could sense the ship’s concern for her, hear her voice in the background calling to her. Bloody nuisance! What…what did she know?

Chalky.

“What?” Gretel spat, the room spinning slightly, “Did you…?”

He’s waiting for you. Will you not go to him?

“He’s with that toy army, dammit.” Gretel grumbled, “We can’t get involved or we’ll risk losing her…you, rather…and I can’t lose you!”

This army is fighting the Legion?

“Aye, some bloody buffoons playing at soldiers.”

But they are fighting the Legion, the one’s who murdered your mother are they not?

Gretel took another pull on the bottle and stared at the floor. She had a point point, a damned good point too. Those rats had murdered her mum, Chalky was with the one’s fighting them, and here she was…moping…

Shoving the cork back in the bottle, Gretel stomped to the door of the cabin and threw it open,

“MISTER HAGGIS!”

The odd eyed pony looked up at her,

“Aye Cap’n?”

“Are all the crew aboard?”

“Aye Cap’n.”

Gretel looked around the deck,

“What about that bloody unicorn?”

“He’s below stowing his gear, Cap’n.” The helmspony replied.

“Best place for the blasted nuisance!” Gretel laughed, “Make ready to leave port, Mister Haggis, we’ve got a delivery to make.”

The strange stallion tapped his forelock with a toothy grin,

“Aye, aye, Cap’n!”

Gretel grinned to herself menacingly. If anypony had been looking at her right at that moment they quite likely would have withered under the intensity of her glare. The Legion had taken something precious from her, and she had a hold full of things that would take something precious from them…their rotten, stinking lives. Gretel leaned on the balustrade and smiled, picturing the Revenge sweeping down from the skies and delivering her cargo to its unexpecting recipients.

Now this, she thought to herself, was going to be good.

Chapter Thirty Five - Council of War

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

COUNCIL OF WAR

The morning air was crisp and fresh, the sky just starting to lighten over the tops of the trees on the hillside while around the camp songbirds called to one another. Their song was the only sound to be heard in the forest, and other than the occasional snore or grunt from one of the sleeping ponies, it was really quite beautiful. The forest smelled of home, even at this time of year, and was quite different from the bamboo forest that had surrounded Rush’s hut. Celestia closed her eyes a moment, praying he was safe, and that if there were some way, some possibility no matter how remote that she could bring him home to Equestria, that she would have the power to do it.

The Princess gently touched the key around her neck - the key to the elements of harmony that could possibly be their last chance for victory over the forces of her sister, or rather, what she had become. Those vile creatures, those…those things! If only that foolish filly hadn’t dabbled in… Celestia shook her head sorrowfully. Perhaps in some way she could understand better now how one could fall in love with somepony unexpectedly, she certainly hadn’t intended to with that human, that humble reed worker, but…he wasn’t though was he? Not really. He was an Equestrian, a pony like the rest of her people, and she’d left him there…trapped…all alone.

“Good morning, Your Majesty.”

It was Dray. The dour grey stallion who looked like he had seen hell, and been there too. Celestia closed her eyes a moment and willed away the image in her mind of his family, their bodies burning away and blending into the ashes of their once lovely home. She wished she hadn’t asked him about them, pushing him as she had to divulge everything. Good Gods, she’d even used magic on him to help her visualise what he’d seen. It had been…difficult, both for him and for her. She knew the depths to which living creatures could sink in war, that monster Rend had taught her that lesson all too well, but for her own people to sink so low? This had to end, and soon, before there were more Honeysuckle’s, Polo’s and Dawn Dew’s, and only the grief of those left behind. She smiled up at him,

“Good morning Colonel.”

He bowed, “May I join you?”

“Of course” Celestia motioned to a spot beside her by the camp fire. It had burned low but there was still enough life left in the coals to warm them.

Dray settled himself down, his breath curling up into the cold air,

“Did you not sleep well, Your Majesty? The medic said you should be resting those injcuries.”

Celestia shook her head, “I’m fine thank you Colonel.” She said pleasantly, “My body heals quite quickly beneath the Equestrian sun.” Celestia turned her purple eyed gaze upon the Colonel, “But what about you? You need sleep as well, you know.”

Dray nodded, “I don’t sleep that well I’m afraid, Your Majesty; too much running through my mind all the time. I suppose I find it hard to just switch off sometimes.”

The Princess gave a half smile, gazing into the glowing coals, “I fear that may have been my fault. I shouldn’t have made you recall...’that’ time for you, Colonel. I hope you can forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Your Majesty.” Dray said, giving his mane a quick shake, “I’ve already said goodbye to them, and i’ll see them again soon enough.”

Celestia felt her heart tighten in her chest. ‘See them again soon enough’. Drays words made her recall her time in the forest, the flames of the burning village, the screams of the villagers fleeing in panic, running from…she gave a light nicker,

“One day, Dray. But not yet.”

“Your Majesty…” Dray said quietly, “I’m not a religious pony, I admit, but…are they…?”

Celestia smiled, “Oh, they’ll be there.” She covered her mouth with her hoof as she yawned, “They’ll all be there; your friends and your loved ones.” The Princess gave him a meaningful look, “That doesn’t mean they won’t be angry with you if you do something reckless so you can see them sooner than you should. Fate can be a…’difficult’ mare at times.”

Dray raised an eyebrow, “It sounds as if you’ve met her.”

“Fate?” Celestia asked, “Oh yes, I’ve met her. Mother introduced me to her when I was a foal.”

“What was she like?” he asked curiously.

Celestia sniffed, “What was your mother in law like, Colonel?”

“Horrible!” Dray chuckled, “She hated me. I was never good enough for Honey in her eyes.”

The Princess sighed, “Fate is worse, a lot worse. She’s a mare who see’s everypony as no more than a ‘thing’ and no matter what you do or how hard you try, none of it means anything to her. You are never, ever, good enough.”

“It sounds as if she has unrealistic expectations of ponies.” Dray replied.

“No, not really” Celestia said levelly, “Truthfully, she just doesn’t have any expectations at all.” she gave a lilting laugh, “If I had one word to describe her, it would be bloody miserable.”

Dray grinned, “That’s two words.”

“Really?” Celestia chuckled, “I could think of many, many more.” She stretched a foreleg out, “Do think our ‘friend’ will come?”

“I hope so,” Dray replied, poking the fire, “Her young coltfriend seems to think she’s quite taken with him. And of course, there’s the additional carrot of the promise of payment.”

“Do you have access to funds, Colonel?” Celestia asked.

“If all goes according to plan, we shall, Your Majesty.” The Colonel scratched his mane absently, “If not, I have a backup plan.”

The Princess pulled herself to her hooves and ruffled her wings, “That may be necessary, Colonel.” She said with a faint smile.

The Colonel looked up, intrigued, “Oh?”

“We have a guest.” Celestia nodded towards a speck on the horizon that was approaching rapidly. Whoever it was, was fast…very fast.

“One of ours?” Dray asked.

The Princess nodded, “I believe so.” She noted the ponies around camp stirring, the guards nearby readying weapons, “Shall we meet them?”

Dray adjusted his sword, waiting for the pegasus to arrive. It never failed to impress him just how quickly those ponies could fly, and he was extremely grateful that he had a number with him. He’d secretly hoped that it would have been the sky galleon. Both he and Celestia had banked on the Captain’s feelings for the white unicorn being strong enough to lure her here, but it seemed he’d overestimated her loyalty to him and maybe even the promise of bits.

The approaching pegasus came in to land and grinned expansively,

“Good morning all!”

Dray cringed. The way Harrier addressed the Princess was something that he wished she really wouldn’t do, but Celestia didn’t seem to mind. If anything it actually raised a smile.

“Good morning Flight Captain,” Dray said greeting the lively mare, “any news?”

“See for yourself.” The pegasus tossed a small scroll towards him which, fortunately, was caught in the glow of purple magic from the Princess,

“May I?”

Opening the scroll, Celestia quickly read it and then passed it to Dray. He looked up at the white alicorn and saw the smile beginning to spread across her face. There wasn’t much written down, only:

D

I shall be with you within two days.

G

“I presume ‘G’ is Captain Gretel?” Dray said quietly, hoofing the message back to Harrier.

“Dunno, guess so.” The purple mare smiled, ruffling her wings, “We intercepted a messenger pegasus from Spurs Anvil. She wasn’t too happy about giving us the message, but…” she shrugged, “y’know.”

“It seems we were correct.” Celestia said happily, “Now then, Colonel Dray, I would like to assemble our officer cadre. I believe we have matters to discuss.”

Celestia saw with relief how Dray’s eyes suddenly glistened with an inner fire, the light of hope returning to him.

“Aye, Your Majesty,” he said, flicking his tail, “We do.”

**********************

“I am royally fed up,” Chalky complained, “I’m cold, bored and I’m damned sure my ears are getting frostbite.”

“Your ears are fine,” Bracken replied, “you’ve got ear warmers, put the bloody thing on if you’re cold.”

The two friends stood waiting at the cook’s tent for their morning breakfast. The daily offerings here were surprisingly good considering they were in the middle of nowhere, however that was probably down to the steady stream of pegasi and ground scouts who had been ferrying supplies in and, by the looks of it, messages. What exactly was going on though was anyponies guess, and considering how cold it was, keeping yourself warm was a damned sight more important than speculating about things you couldn’t do anything about.

Bracken blew of his forelegs and rubbed them to try and get some warmth into them. They’d been there for what felt like ages, but in all actuality, was probably no more just than a few days. The ‘interrogation’ as Chalk had referred to it had turned out to be no more than a relatively pleasant chat with Colonel Dray. Bracken wasn’t completely convinced they weren’t up to something, but as it was out of his and Chalk’s hooves anyway, he tried to put it out of his mind. Thank the Godesses blabbermouth hadn’t told them everything though. The last thing he wanted was them being asked about…about…what the hell was it anyway? Chalk had said that he’d ‘spoken funny in the village’? What in Equestria was that’s supposed to mean? Everything about that time in the village with the thestrals and the school had been so horribly confusing, he still wasn’t completely certain they’d needed to run off the way they had in the first place. Now, thanks to all that panic, they were freezing their nuts off in the arse end of nowhere and back with the bloody army! Bracken sighed. Maybe someday he’d be able to find out why his head felt like a big chunk of it was missing and why Chalk hedged around mentioning it everytime he enquired about it. Come to think of it, everytime he tried to ask him, that bloody headache loomed like a sword hanging over him waiting to drop. He’d just decided to drop the subject in the end. What would be would be, he was just an everyday kind of stallion after all; one that other ponies had a tendency to overlook…or avoid. Bracken had struggled with a low self image for years, a situation not helped by the fact that Chalk tended to be a smash hit with every mare he met. Worse still was that when he was younger, it had been Chalk that everypony avoided. Bracken snorted. How things change!

“You know, I think it must be a real skill you have there Cookie.”

“Huh?” The large earth stallion serving the rations looked up at Chalk quizzically.

“Yeah,” the white unicorn said peering into his tin, “I’ve never quite worked out how something that looks like carrots and smells like carrots, can actually taste of something that bares absolutely no resemblance to carrots.”

“You want it or not?” Cookie growled.

Chalk took a mouthful, “Nah,” he said shrugging, “I’ll survive.” “Hopefully…” he added walking away.

Bracken looked behind him at the glare from the cook, “You really push it sometimes, Chalky.” He said, catching up with his friend, “I mean, for the Goddess’ sake, Cookie’s doing his best.”

“Hmph, yeah.” Chalk took another mouthful of the stew, “You think I don’t know who told Dray everything we’d said the night they found us? You think they let us stay by the fire out of kindness?” Chalk sniffed, “Bollocks, Brack. Your mate Cookie is a damned spy for the brass.”

“I’m not stupid, Chalky,” Bracken replied, “but you can’t really blame him, they’ll have given him orders to do it.”

“Yeah, and they’ll have some dirty trick up their proverbial no doubt too.” Chalk poked at the mess tins contents savagely, “Those rats won’t let us go, and I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be up to our naffs in trouble before you know it.”

“When haven’t we been!” Bracken snapped, “Anyway, you’re the one who blabbed everything about the sky galleons to Dray and his pals.”

“And you don’t think they wouldn’t have found out about it anyway if I hadn’t have told them?” Chalky said calmly, “No. Old Dray’s a crafty sod. I heard all about him from some of the guys back in the barracks, but at least we’re on the same team. Kind of.”

“Huh! ‘Kind of’ is right.” Bracken groused, “Getting ourselves killed over some bloody nonsense is more than likely what this is going to be about. I know Celestia’s re-appeared, but those damned thestral’s kicked the crap out of us back at River Valley and now they control the whole bloody country. What we need is a miracle to turn that around.”

Chalk raised an eyebrow, “What, you don’t think Celestia will be able to defeat Nightmare Moon?”

Bracken checked to make sure nopony was listening before replying, “That’s exactly what I’m saying!” he whispered, “She got her arse handed to her by the Legion and us along with her. If she couldn’t beat them back then when we had the whole army with us, what makes you think we could win with a hoofful of bloody rejects?” he shook his mane, “It’s nothing short of suicide Chalky, and you know it!”

“I don’t know Brack,” Chalk said quietly, glancing over to where Celestia sat talking with their senior officers, “she looked like she knew what she was doing to me. Now that she’s back, she looks, I don’t know, ‘different’ somehow. Not like when I first saw her, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t know what you mean!” Bracken snorted, “Look Chalky, being ‘pissed off’ doesn’t make you a better leader or somehow able to make bloody miracles happen. ‘I am angry, now feel my wrath!’ and all that bollocks.”

Chalk leaned in, his eyes narrowed, “Well what do you suggest we do? We can’t just walk out of here - they’d chop us up and stuff into Cookie’s leftovers if we tried.”

Bracken looked over his shoulder, “I tell you what we do, we take the first opportunity to get the buck out of Dodge before we end up as some sodding dragons dinner, that’s what!”

“And go where?” Chalk whispered, “We can’t go home, that’s the first place they’d look.”

“Spurs Anvil” Bracken nodded.

“Why?”

The black stallion rolled his eyes in exasperation,

“So I…that is you can meet up with that pirate piece of yours. That is what you want isn’t it?”

Chalk’s tail swished angrily, “There you go with that ‘pirate piece’ thing again! And how stupid do you think I am anyway? I know damned well why you really want to go there! Do I need to say it?”

“You’d better bloody not!” Bracken hissed, “If I hear you call her an ‘old tart’ again I’ll knock your bloody head off!”

“Then don’t call Gretel names either!” Chalk snapped, “Fairs fair, Brack.”

Bracken glared at Chalk and sighed, rubbing his face with his foreleg, “You’re right…I’m sorry. I just…I don’t know. I’ve got a bad feeling is all.”

“About what?” Chalk asked, scraping the last of his meal out of his tin.

Bracken shook his head, “I don’t know…it’s hard to say, it’s just a feeling.”

Chalk shrugged, “The way I look at it, we’ve got a damned sight better chance of getting out of this mess alive with a Goddess on our side than not. And if we play our cards right, we may still get a chance to get out of this in one piece before it all hits the fan.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Bracken asked.

“Simple, by…”

“Hey, you two!” A large salmon coloured stallion wearing a set of burnished armour strode up to them with an air of authority, “Get off your arses and get your gear together we’re moving out.”

Chalk slammed his hoof down angrily, “Oh sod off! We’ve just sat down!”

The officer leaned down, his lime green eyes blazing, “WHAT DID YOU SAY?!”

Chalk met him glare for glare, “I said s…”

“-He said, yes sir!” Bracken cut in, shoving a hoof over his friend’s mouth, “We’ll get on with it immediately!”

The officer sneered, “That’s what I thought he said.” Turning to walk away, he looked back over his shoulder, “I’m watching you two.”

Watching the retreating form of the salmon coated stallion, Chalk made an obscene gesture with his hooves and muttered something under his breath.

“You’ll get us flogged one of these days,” Bracken muttered wiping out his mess tin, “seriously, Chalky, you make me bloody wonder.”

The white unicorn began ramming his gear back into his packs, “I don’t like him, that turd’s had it in for me ever since we got here. Bloody officers.”

“Can you blame him?” Bracken hissed, “You keep winding him up every time you can!”

Chalk sniffed. Bracken was probably right. Okay, he was right, but that snooty, stuck up arsehole Shallow Fry deserved it, and more. Once the young officer had found out that he and Bracken had been at River Valley, he’d made a point of singling them out for some reason. Chalk had even overheard him referring to them as ‘deserters’, the lousy rat. Considering Cookie had told them that Shallow Fry hadn’t even been at River Valley, he didn’t think the polished prat had any right to accuse them of shirking their duty. Maybe, as Chalk suspected, he was nothing more than a complete cock…

“I’ll get him one of these days, you mark my words.” Chalk slung his gear over his back and cinched up the straps with a glow from his horn, “That guys got it coming.”

“I don’t like the way this is heading, Chalky.” Bracken said while he fixed his scarf around his neck, “Shallow Fry may not like you, but if you bait him enough he could make your life hell.” He thought for a moment, “And mine!”

“Well pardon moi!” Chalk chuckled, “Anyway, come on grumpy lets shift flank, I don’t want to get my bestest buddy in any more hot water do I?”

***********************

Dray sat with the Princess, drinking what turned out to be surprisingly good tea. He didn’t normally hold with the stuff, but this was quite refreshing. The Princess seemed to think so too and sighed, closing her eyes as the steam from the cup curled up around her muzzle. Several officers were there with them, discussing various plans, movements and strategies, most of which, Dray felt, were little more than pipe dreams. They didn’t have anywhere near the troops or resources needed to take on Nightmare Moon’s forces in a pitched battle, and any attempt to do so would end in swift and complete annihilation. The lastest suggestion would have ended with the same result…

Celestia nodded to him, “Colonel?”

“Your Majesty?”

“You don’t seem to agree?” the Princess said politely.

Dray rubbed his muzzle, “May I be frank?”

Celestia nodded, “I wish you would be.” She looked around at the assembled officers, “The same goes for all of you. We don’t have the luxury of time for niceties, mares and gentlecolts. Our enemy is vicious, cunning and completely without mercy for any who cross them. Openness and honesty about our situation is crucial. If you do not feel you can be open with me or your fellow officers, the door is, metaphorically, open. Nopony will think worse of you if this is something that you feel you cannot do.” Her gaze hardened, “I want leaders, not followers.”

There was a tense moment of hoof shuffling and staring at the ground. Dray could understand why. After all, their Princess, the one who had the power to raise the sun in the sky and whom they had worshipped as the Goddess of the daylight, was asking them, essentially, to talk to her as an equal. Well, in for a bit… He stood up tall and addressed her, tapping his hoof on the map,

“Your Majesty, if we take on the Legion in open battle we will lose. We have neither the ponypower, nor supplies to defeat Nightmare Moon’s forces.”

“Nonsense!” Captain Fry stepped forward, his eyes flashing, “You want honesty, I’ll give it to you.” He stared at Dray, “All we need to do is consolidate our position, send flyers out to every corner of Equestria and gather every able bodied stallion and mare to our banner. Then, Dray, we will see who cannot defeat this armed mob of thugs.”

Dray looked at the salmon coated stallion, his gaze neutral. Nopony spoke until, with a gentle nod, Dray spoke,

“I suppose I can’t blame you, Captain Fry. You weren’t at River Valley were you?” He cast his stern gaze across the rest, “Some of you, the ones who were there, will understand all too well why I say to you now, that should we make any attempt to attack Nightmare Moons forces without at least a vast numerical superiority and support from dragons, we will be defeated and the last hope for Equestria will be snuffed out as easily as a candle in the wind.” His brown eyes hardened, “I understand and commend your enthusiasm, Captain Fry, but I can assure you that Equestrians are no match for an enemy such as this, should we go hoof to hoof with them.”

Captain Fry lifted his hoof, his face darkening, “You…you mean to say that our soldiers, the very best Equestria has to offer, would be defeated by these…things? Good Goddesses Dray, they’re using minotaurs! Mercenaries!”

Wild spoke up, “Have you ever seen a minotaur in battle, Fry? Have you ever seen a pony split in two with a war axe? Let me tell you, I have, and I sure as hell never want to see it again.”

The Princess raised her hoof, silencing the officers, “I have fought these creatures, these ‘thestrals’, and what Colonel Dray says it all too true. I hate to admit it, but it would appear that years of peace and lack of experience have…’softened’ our army and made them less capable of resisting such an enemy as we ‘d hoped.” She turned to Dray, “Colonel, what do you propose?”

“I say if we cannot defeat our enemy in a more conventional war, then we must fight unconventionally.” He swept his hoof across the map, “I propose we do as Captain Fry suggested: We contact our scattered forces, to recruit, yes, to train them on the march, yes, but not to bring them to one central point.” He shook his head, “No…we do what I had begun with our dragon allies, we hit them where it hurts,” he slammed his hoof on the map, “their supplies.”

One of the officers lifted a hoof, “But Colonel, the Thestral army is spread out, they won’t be getting centralised supplies now.”

Dray nodded, “Mostly that’s true. They are spread out, but our scouts have found that the majority of their supplies are still coming from one place. As strange as it sounds, the thing we have in our favour, is that they are carnivores.”

Several of the officers balked, staring at one another in horror. Others, the ones who had met the thestral’s in battle, never batted an eyelid. Dray made mental notes of the officers’ reactions. That information may come in useful later on. He continued,

“The thestrals use food brought in from a place in the north, a portal which connects with what we believe is their home land. Other supplies come in from various carnivore meat suppliers in Equestria such as griffins, minotaurs and so on.” He tapped a hoof on the map, “We hit those, we hit where it will impact them the most - their stomachs.”

“Won’t they turn on the population?” One mare asked levelly, “Equestrians are herbivores, so to these creatures we may be seen as a prey animal.”

The Princess nodded, “I believe this may indeed happen, however it would be a worst case scenario. Thestrals are adept at adapting to their environment and capable hunters of smaller creatures. As repugnant as it may sound, they will eat various different food sources. I presume, Colonel, that the intention of this strategy would be to break up the Legion’s cohesiveness?”

“In part,” Dray said motioning to the map, “but to have a noticeable effect we can’t stop there. We have to hit them when they are hunting for food, we hit them when they are sleeping, we hit them on the march. We must hit them whenever and however we can.” He fixed them all with a hard look, “We must be flexible. We have to hit and run, breaking them up as they search for an enemy that has already moved on. With our smaller numbers, it will give us a better chance of having any appreciable impact on the Legion and give us the time we need to build our strength.”

“Hardly honourable!” One of the officers said, “This was not the way we were taught to fight.”

“Nor I,” Dray said above the murmuring, “but our enemy does not play by our rules, Lieutenant and so we must adapt, adapt or we will fall, I assure you.”

“They’ll come looking for us.” Wild said, “They’ll be after the Princess.”

“Oh, I know that,” Dray grinned, “I’m banking on it.”

There was uproar as several officers began loudly remonstrating. It was the Princess herself, who stopped the fuss by little more than spreading her wings,

“Colonel, please continue.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Dray smiled at the worried expressions, “We start by using our pegasi to spread disinformation: where will the Princess be? Is she in the north preparing her forces for a final battle? Perhaps to the south, recruiting and consolidating her position? Maybe in the east, trying to gain allies from our neighbours? Who can say?” He took out his pipe and began loading it with tobacco, “You cannot attack that which you cannot find.” He banged his hoof on the table, making several jump, “If we cannot out fight them, we can outthink them. We will make them hunt for the Princess high and low, we will make them hungry, we will make them unable to sleep for fear of the pony in the night. Oh yes, brothers and sisters, we will be the true nightmare that stalks the darkness.”

There was silence. Several of the officers began nodding as every eye focussed on their Colonel. Dray looked at them all, pleased that even Captain Fry, the one he thought he’d have the most trouble with, now bore an expression of anticipation and, more importantly, hope. He himself couldn’t help but grin, his tail lashing from side to side. At last! At long last, they were moving forward.

“Officers of the Celestian army,” Celestia suddenly announced in a loud voice, “as of today, I am making Colonel Dray, General of the Celestian armed forces. He is to take full command and will have complete control over our strategies, deployments and recruitment.” She turned to Dray, “General, you will be answerable to me, however I assure you I will not interfere in your role nor will I second guess your decisions.” She readdressed the whole assembly, “Today, I am declaring total war against the forces of Nightmare Moon. Whatever it takes, no matter what the cost, I shall see that creature and her minions driven from our lands and peace restored to Equestria. We shall have our home back, ponies, and I shall do it if I have to wade chest deep through the bodies of our enemy.”

Major Wild lifted a hoof, “Your Majesty, what of Lord Ochre? We have heard he has betrayed Equestria and dissolved the army for his own personal profit.”

Celestia’s gaze made Wild take a step back; her eyes, normally so beautiful and wise, were now hard and almost…brutal,

“I know what he did, Major.” the Princess said quietly, “There is no home for any creature such as he in Equestria.”

“What of our allies?” Fry asked, “I don’t hold much love for dragons, but I’ll admit, I’d rather have them than not.”

Dray nodded, “Emissaries will be sent out to the dragons, as well as the Griffin Kingdom, Yakistan and Llamalia.”

This caused yet more rumblings, but mostly nods and excited mutterings.

“I shall be issuing orders to you all by the end of today. I trust I can depend on each and every one of you in this venture and impress upon you the necessity for absolute commitment. From now on, the shoes are off, everypony. Now see to your troops, we have a lot of work to do.”

The Princess watched the ponies file out one by one until only only Dray and herself were left. She sat back in her chair and sighed, stretching her wings,

“I never thought it would come to this, Dray, never…”

“I know, Your Majesty” Dray took out a box of matches, “Do you mind…?”

Celestia shook her head, “No.” she lifted a hoof and looked down at it, the neat gold hoof cover with its filigree work was so beautifully made, it was hard to believe it had been intended for war countless centuries ago.

“I have to say,” Dray said around his pipe stem, “I never thought they would accept it. Many of them are quite set in the ‘old way of thinking’. I think it goes to show just how much we’ve all been through to get to this point.” Dray took a mouthful of the fragrant pipe smoke, “It’s a sad day, Your Majesty, although, I’d like to think, the first day towards our liberation.”

Celestia nodded sadly, looking out at the ponies moving around the campsite,

“If I didn’t believe that to be the case, I wouldn’t have said what I did…General.”

“General…” Dray mused letting out a thin plume of smoke, “I’m not sure if I really wanted a promotion.” He suddenly jumped, realising how he’d sounded, “That is, not that I’m not exceptionally grateful Your Majesty.”

Celestia chuckled, “That’s one of the reasons why I made you General.” She raised her goblet and took a mouthful of water, “I wish i’d done it before River Valley. If I had, then this may all have been unnecessary.”

Dray shrugged, “We can’t change the past, but we can look forward to a bright future. With you back, Your Majesty, ponies will gather to your banner, eager for the sun to return to their lives.”

“It will, General Dray,” The Princess replied, “I can assure you of that.”

Dray nodded. It felt strange talking to the Princess like this, but it was what she wanted. Being able to have free rein, to be able to take the war to the enemy without interference from ‘up top’ was what they needed, in fact, what they had needed right from the outset. But what if he was wrong? What if he didn’t know what he was doing? Dray took a draw on his pipe and scratched his mane. Good Goddesses, if he did get it wrong, it could be the end of Equestria…

On the guards poked his head round the door,

“General Dray?”

Dray stifled a laugh; word certainly did travel fast around here! “Yes?” he said looking up at the guard.

“There’s something coming.”

“’Something coming’?” Dray went to scratch his chin and then suddenly jumped to his hooves, “They’re here!”

Celestia laughed, “Are you a gambling stallion, Colonel?”

“I…no, Your Majesty,” he replied, “I’m not.”

“Well, shall we take a wager?” the Princess grinned, heading towards the tent door, “Love or money?”

“As a cynic I’d be tempted to say money” Dray smiled, “But I think I’d be a fool to bet on a losing pony.”

Celestia smiled, “You would indeed, General, you would indeed.”

The Princess was still laughing as she stepped outside to watch the distant outline of a sky galleon in full sail heading towards them.

Chapter Thirty Six - Midnight Sun

CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

MIDNIGHT SUN

The gangplank hit the ground with a heavy thud as the ponies around the clearing stood and stared in open mouthed disbelief at what they were seeing. Celestia remained silent, watching the cherry red mare with the yellow mane and maroon eyes appear at edge of the ship’s railing - the Captain of the King Sombra’s Revenge no doubt. The name itself rankled; didn’t they know who that monster was? Was the name some kind of joke? If it was, it wasn’t funny. Worse yet, was how that beast had made these ‘ships’. Celestia knew all too well what lay inside this construction of wood, iron, canvas and rope. Above her, the railing and rigging of the vessel suddenly bristled with crossbow wielding ponies, all of them with a look of determination and resolve that Princess found quite impressive. Yes…these ponies would do…very nicely.

The red mare walked down the gangplank while several others followed behind with loaded crossbows and festooned with swords and daggers. They looked like they knew how to use them too.

Stopping at the bottom, Captain Gretel lifted her head, her foreleg on her sword’s hilt,

“Who is in charge here?” she demanded in a loud voice, “Which one of you scum sucking verminous rats threatened one of my crew?”

“I believe that ‘scum sucking verminous rat’ would be me.” The Princess said stepping forward, “A pleasure to meet you, Captain Gretel.”

“And you are?”

The Princess bowed her head, “I am Celestia, Princess of Equestria.”

“How nice for you,” Gretel said snidely, “I’ve met your other half and I wasn’t impressed with her either. Now I will ask you only once, ‘Princess’; where is my crewpony?”

“You mean, Chalk Dust?” Celestia smiled, “Oh, he’s here. First though, won’t you please accept our hospitality and join us for tea?”

“No.” Gretel’s hoof twitched towards her sword, “You bring Chalky here now or I’ll blow the lot of you to hell, and don’t think that fancy damned magic of yours will help you ‘Princess’, because I assure you, it won’t be worth a damn when you’re dancing with the devil.”

“And are you that devil?” Celestia asked curiously.

Gretel smiled, “I could be.”

General Dray whispered quietly into Celestia ear, “Your Majesty, do you want me to fetch him here? He’s our trump card.”

Celestia nodded, “I think so.” She raised an eyebrow, “I like her. I think we can…negotiate.”

The Princess watched the red mare quietly. On the surface, the Captain looked to be a rough sort: uncouth and strong willed, but there was a certain aura about her that she’d wished more of her ponies had. They needed more like her, the type who would stand up for themselves and not be cowed by others, especially when they had something, or in this case, somepony, they wanted. Celestia closed her eyes; the image of Rush haunting her even in the daytime. If she’d been in the Captain’s position, how would she feel, how would she react? If somepony had taken Rush and were using him as a bargaining chip, wouldn’t she be…

“GRETEL!”

A streak of white shot past her and launched itself at the red mare. In seconds, the two were…well, to be blunt, all over each other. Clearly Captain Gretel wasn’t shy about public displays of…’affection’. Celestia shuddered. Was this how others saw her with Rush? No…probably not. The two of them hadn’t, well, they…just hadn’t. She gritted her teeth, angry with herself, furious that she hadn’t done more to rescue him. She could have, she should have! This wasn’t fair, to be alone, here without the one she…she…

“Princess?” It was the Captain, “I believe you wished to negotiate some sort of trade agreement?”

Giving herself a mental shake, Celestia took a breath and steadied herself. Emotions were all well and good, but there was a time and place, and this was not it.

She swept a hoof towards the tent standing nearby, “Follow me, please.”

******************************

Gretel took a sip of her tea. It wasn’t bad, but certainly nothing like the variety that Amy had given her, even if it had been illusory. She looked about herself at the tent. It was a fairly bland affair, functional to say the least and certainly nothing like the portable palace the ‘other’ princess had. She took off her hat and gave her mane a good scratch - the bloody thing always made her hair itch like mad! From the corner of her eye, Gretel could see the Princess watching her politely, that curiously flowing mane of hers looked more like a living rainbow than actual hair. Gretel’s on the other hoof…well, a mane was a mane wasn’t it? Suddenly she felt incredibly self conscious.

“May I ask a question?” The Princess asked.

Gretel shrugged, “Sure, go right ahead.”

“How exactly did you intend to ‘blow us all to hell’?” Celestia gave her a polite smile, “Forgive me, Captain, but you don’t appear to have many unicorns aboard your ship?”

“Didn’t you consider I may be bluffing, Princess?”

“Naturally,” Celestia replied, “but I know sincerity when I see it Captain, and I feel you would have been all too willing to carry out your threat should we not have acquiesced to your request.”

“Ac…what?” Gretel asked screwing up her face in confusion. The powder blue pony she’d brought with her muttered something in her ear. “Oh…right, yes.” She waved a hoof dismissively, “Well, we may be able to provide you with a product that could prove to be of particular use in your future endeavours.” She grinned, her eyes showing that she was far more calculating that Celestia had first envisaged. The Princess nodded to Dray,

“Intriguing, Captain. Now then, General Dray shall explain our proposal.”

Gretel sat and listened, taking in the older stallion’s words and looking for an angle. There wasn’t one, or at least, not one she could see. It seemed fairly straight forward so far as the actual logistics of it went, but if they did go ahead with this plan, there would be no turning back - the die would well and truly be cast. Finally, Dray finished and both he and the Princess sat in silence, waiting for her reply. Gretel leaned back in her chair, her voice low,

“Doc?”

“It’s a gamble Captain,” the ship’s doctor replied honestly, “no doubt about it, and if it goes wrong…”

“-I know, we’ll have the whole Legion after us.” Gretel looked up at Celestia, “What you want us to do is tantamount to a declaration of war against Nightmare Moon and her forces. To do so would risk both my ship and her crew and that is something I cannot do, not even for a Princess of Equestria.”

“I see.” Celestia said quietly, “A shame. I’d hoped that you would have joined us in our fight to free our home from the darkness which is engulfing, it even as we speak.” She stretched her wings, “You see Captain, if you were to ‘assist’ us, then your financial reward would be…considerable.” She left further explanation hanging, “Moreover, all charges against you for aiding our enemy would be dropped and you would be given favourable trading rights - most favourable indeed.”

Dray cleared his throat, “Captain, your crewpony, Chalk Dust, is a serving soldier with the army. If you were to help us, I could see to it that his enlistment is voided after we complete our goal.”

“You mean if he survives.” Gretel shook her head, “It’s a suicide mission, Dray, and you know it. Taking Chalky with you is like putting a knife to my throat to make sure I do as you say.”

Celestia raised a hoof, “Not at all. Chalk may stay with you on your ship.” She sighed, “Please, I’m afraid we may have started off on the wrong hoof, Captain. It was not my intention for you to see us as holding Mister Chalk Dust as a…’hostage’, quite the opposite in fact. I had hoped that returning your loved one and offering you trade may have…”

“-I didn’t say I wouldn’t trade.” Gretel cut in, “I just…” she shook her head, “Look, let me talk this over with my crew, Princess. I assure you, I have no love for the Legion and would much rather deal with yourselves, but it is the risk to my ship and my crew that is staying my hoof. If Nightmare Moon found out I’m aiding you…”

“Oh, I think you’ll find she already knows.” Celestia said quietly.

Gretel choked on her tea, “What? How?!”

“You had a black earth pony on your vessel didn’t you?” The princess asked, “One with a blue mane and tail, grey eyes, goes by the name of…”

“-Bracken?” Gretel sputtered, “He’s Chalky’s friend. What about…oh, my Goddess…”

Doc lay a hoof of his Captain’s shoulder as he addressed the Princess,

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but Bracken is with you is he not?”

“He is.” She replied.

“Then you know that he’s being tracked?”

Celestia nodded, “I do.”

Doc looked at his Captain, “I think this puts a different complexion on things.”

Gretel slammed a hoof down, angrily rounding on the Princess, “If you knew he was being tracked, then how the hell could you let him stay with you, Celestia? Are you mad?! Nightmare Moon’s Legion could be on their way here right now!”

Celestia calmly took a sip of her tea, “All the more reason for us to get away as soon as we can, Captain, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Why you sneaky…” Gretel threw her forelegs up and then shook her head, smiling, “A mare after my own heart, eh?” She turned back to Doc who nodded, a slight smile across his face. “Very well, Celestia,” The Captain said with a toothy grin, “it looks like we have ourselves a deal.”

Gretel reached out her hoof which Celestia bumped with her own, a smile crossing her muzzle. Dray pointedly cleared his throat,

“Excuse me Captain, this ‘product’ you mentioned; what is it?”

Rising to her hooves, Gretel gave him an expansive grin, “Well, General, I always say that ‘seeing is believing’, so why not come aboard and see for yourselves?”

Outside, Chalk was catching up with Strata, the two of them clearly delighted to see each other again. They were so deep in conversation that they barely even noticed the Princess until Gretel called out to them. With a start, the two unicorns turned and bowed low as they passed by. Celestia smiled at them, her large purple eyes twinkling in the sunlight. The party continued their walk over to the Revenge as Chalk homed in on General Dray,

“Sir? Have you seen Bracken?” he asked anxiously, “I haven’t seen him since he went off for sentry duty this morning.”

Dray nodded solemnly, “He’s on special assignment at the moment, Mister Dust. Don’t worry though, you’re friend’s perfectly safe.”

Chalk didn’t feel convinced. Everything was happening so fast! One minute the Princess reappears, then Gretel arrives with the Revenge. But here too was Strata! The fellow had somehow managed to become part of the crew and he’d said something about Gretel’s leg and…and…

“Will you stop bouncing around? You’re like a bloody jumping bean!” Doc gave Chalk a stern look.

“It’s just so much to take in!” Chalk exclaimed, “I mean, I have so much I want to ask, and so much to tell Gretel too, its…”

Doc suddenly stopped in his tracks and rounded on him, “Chalky, listen, I know you’re excited to see Gretel again but look, please, just take it easy with her, okay? She’s been through a lot recently.”

Chalk looked across at Strata who nodded his agreement.

“Sorry, Doc,” he replied letting out a sigh, “I’ll wait until we’ve got some time to talk and she’s not busy with other matters.”

Doc smiled, pleased that the young unicorn had actually listened to him, “Good lad.”

“Hey, Strata, ever heard of Pixies?” Chalk piped up excitedly.

Rolling his eyes, Doc trotted after the Captain and the rest of the entourage. There was only so much ‘Chalky’ he could handle in one day. Thankfully, the two unicorns were more than content to keep each other company and kept up a constant stream of chatter that continued right up until they reached the ship. To his surprise, Princess Celestia was standing stock still in the middle of the main deck, her wings ruffling in some unseen breeze and her eyes glazed. Around her the rest of the ponies stood quietly, watching and waiting, although for what, Doc wasn’t sure. No doubt, he’d find out soon enough – meanwhile, he took the opportunity to light his pipe.

***********************

The cricket match was absorbing, the away team all out for four hundred. The home team had already begun to celebrate their apparently impending win when they broke for tea and sandwiches. Rather fitting considering the tea, sandwiches and cakes neatly arrayed on the table within the beautiful marble pillars of the gazebo.

Celestia and the Captain were sat with a silver-grey mare, her elegant coiffure neatly held in place with long silver pins which caught the light as much as her eyes. This pony, Celestia thought to herself, this ‘being’ was more of a magical entity than an actual living thing; perhaps even godlike in her existence. Here, in her world, she would need to tread very carefully indeed. The Princess admittedly knew very little about the sky galleons of the Empire, but what she did know made her blood run cold. She would keep her guard up while she was here, but even so, politeness cost nothing.

The mare sitting before her passed them each a delicate china cup of the most evocatively scented tea,

“I can honestly say,” the being Captain Gretel had referred to as ‘Amethyst’ began, “that I never thought one of the Princesses of Equestria would ever set hoof upon my deck.” She raised a sparkling eyebrow, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Celestia nodded patiently, “Indeed. I couldn’t agree more.”

Amy’s eyes never left the Princess’s, even as she took a sip of her tea,

“I presume you are here because you require something from me?”

Celestia nodded, “Yes, I wish to engage your services on a most important mission.”

“Really?” Amy replied with a slight hint of sarcasm, “You will forgive me ‘Princess’ if I find your ‘asking’ a ship of the Empire to assist you with anything a rather bitter pill to swallow. After all, the last time you had anything to do with my people, you took matters into your own hooves without much in the way of dialogue.” She watched Celestia’s reaction carefully and placed her cup back on its saucer, “Or, perhaps I have it wrong? I don’t believe I’ve ever had the chance to ask you directly before now.”

The Princess closed her eyes a moment. The memories of that dark time had been locked away deep within her – not gone, not forgotten, but was a time and place she did not want to revisit. She could sense ‘Amy’ probing for information. Whether she was doing it consciously or not, the entity sitting opposite her drinking tea was quite capable of reading your innermost thoughts and feelings; it was something she herself guarded against habitually. As a foal, Luna had often spied on her dreams and teased her incessantly about what she’d seen. Setting up mental ‘walls’ in her mind was one of the earliest things she’d learned about the art of magic from her mother - much to Luna’s annoyance. The girl had sulked for days.

Celestia took a sip of her tea. Illusory or not, it truly was superb, and reminiscent of her time in the human realm - a time she wished to savour for herself when she had time. It was not, she thought to herself strongly, for sharing. Amy looked shaken, the strength of Celestia’s rejection of her ‘probing’ had obviously take her off guard. The Princess sighed; she would have to be careful with this being,

“Amethyst, what happened with the Crystal Empire was a terrible tragedy, and a heartbreaking time for many ponies. When your homeland was swallowed up by the dimensional rift, many families, friends and loved one were stranded both there and here, never to be reunited in this world. Luna and I considered doing what we could to bring the Empire back, but the risk was simply too great, both to your people and ours. You have to understand, that nopony, not even myself or Luna could have foreseen what was going to happen.”

Amy leaned forward to pour more tea, “There were those who may say that you and your sister had no business interfering with the Empire, Princess. Did you not consider this at the time?”

“Naturally,” Celestia replied, nodding her thanks for the tea, “but the magic that King Sombra had unleashed was having a backwash effect on the rest of Equestria and created, amongst other things, mutations and maladies that we are still seeing the echoes of to this very day.”

The silver-grey pony looked away, her gaze on the now empty cricket field, “You could have spoken to him you know. He used to be a good listener.”

Celestia paused. There was something in Amethyst’s tone of voice, a sort of wistful longing that spoke of a long buried pain that it would likely be unwise to probe. She took a breath and smiled kindly,

“When your physical body was alive, maybe,” The Princess replied, “although when Luna and I met him, he was no longer the pony whom his people had once loved. The Heart of the Empire was dying, its king, the one charged with protecting that most sacred of items, had corrupted it by dabbling in magic’s that were locked away for a reason.”

“He had to do something,” Amy said quietly, “he had to save our people. Where were you then, princess? Where was your magic when we needed you?” she turned back to Celestia, her eyes darkened, haunted, “You came not as a saviour, but as a destroyer. You took my home, my people and my…” she closed her eyes, “You took them away.”

Celestia raised her head, her voice firm and full of authority, although retaining a level of compassion and understanding that she hoped Amethyst would understand,

“Do you think I wanted that to happen, Amethyst? To see a whole people, an entire civilisation, vanish, taking the hopes and dreams of so many with them?” She shook her head, “If I had known what Sombra was doing, if I’d known just how dire your homelands predicament was, I would have done something earlier. But that pony was stubborn, and he never asked for our help.” Celestia closed her eyes, “You said yourself, we had no right to interfere with the Empire’s business and, to my eternal shame, I considered its troubles as something that did not concern us. We had our own problems to contend with and the Crystal Empire, always at the forefront of equine magical ingenuity, seemed more than capable of dealing with its own affairs.”

Amethyst stared at her tea, her voice sad and distant, “Will they ever return, Princess? Will we ever see the glistening towers of the Palace of Crystal, the bridges that glistened in the sun like diamonds, the home of the people that wanted nothing more than to live their lives in peace?”

Celestia shook her head sadly, “I don’t know Amethyst, I really don’t. I will be truthful with you: I am worried about what would happen if it did. At the moment, the evil that Sombra unleashed is contained along with him, his people and the Empire itself. Right now however, I have concerns that involve the ponies who live here, in this world. Perhaps one day, when the time is right, the Empire will return and we will have a chance to purge those darkest of magics from your home.”

A round of applause made the mares look up. The second half of the day’s cricket was just starting and the teams were waving to the audience beneath a pale blue sky with its bright golden sun. Amy sighed. She’d gone beyond thoughts and feelings such as hope and love…or so she’d thought. Right then she wasn’t sure how she felt about it all. This alicorn, this ‘Princess of Equestria’ had been instrumental in sending her beloved Sombra away - casting him, her family, her friends… She shook her head sorrowfully. Celestia hadn’t done that out of malice though, had she? She knew herself all too well about those awful magics that the Empire’s mages had uncovered - the ones that could, quite literally, suck your soul, your very essence, from your body and lock it into a crystal…forever. If she’d known then what she knew now, would she still have agreed to it? A warm presence nudged her. It was the little foal, always there at the back of her mind, ready to comfort her when she felt sad or alone. And there too, was the Captain - the two of them the nearest she had to family and friends now. And not forgetting Salty too of course! She had plans for him, she’d seen his dreams and oh! The things he thought about when he didn’t think she was looking! She smiled and nodded to the Princess,

“Do you like the tea?”

“Very much,” Celestia replied pleasantly, “it’s deliciously rich.”

Amy took a breath, pleased at her reply,

“Celestia, I wish to speak with my Captain, alone. I’m afraid I shall have to send you back. Gretel will pass you my decision.”

Celestia nodded and almost immediately found herself back on the deck surrounded by curious ponies. Gathering her wits about her, she turned to Dray, keeping her voice low,

“I believe negotiations went…”

“-Princess?” The red coated Captain strode up to her, derailing her train of thought, “You may start embarking your troops immediately.”

“…Well.” Celestia finished with a grin. She gave the red mare a smile, “Should we have a look at this cargo of yours whilst our passengers get themselves ready?”

Dray waved to one of the officers and followed the Princess and the Captain down the stairs into the hold. Preparations wouldn’t take long. The biggest question on his mind though, was what to do about their ‘black and blue’ problem. Fortunately, Celestia had assured him the matter would be dealt with, and if it was something that involved magic, then he was more than happy for her to take charge of the situation. He shook his mane. That poor sod, he’d been through the mill alright and now this. Dray felt a shudder run through him. He certainly didn’t envy that young soldier, not one bit.

“Well? What do you think?” The Captain asked, holding her lantern up to illuminate the contents of the hold.

Dray stared at the huge number of small barrels, all of them covered in strange writing and heavy copper straps that suggested whatever was in them was something you really wanted to be damned careful about manipulating. He walked up to one of them for a closer look. The language on the barrels was griffin, there was no mistaking that angular, aggressive style, but as to what it said he had no idea.

“I believe it roughly translates as ‘do not drop’.” The Captain piped up helpfully.

“What are they?” Dray asked furrowing his brow.

Gretel smiled, “Remember River Valley, when we flew in and caused a little mayhem? Benefitted your lot quite nicely I expect; the very fact that you’re here and not inside some dragons belly suggests our intervention may have even saved the day.”

“It certainly helped,” Dray replied, “But…what are these?”

“Bloody expensive, that’s what!” The Captain chuckled, clearly enjoying having the upper hoof in the conversation.

The Princess’s eyes glinted in the lamplight, “Unstable magic, distilled into a liquid form that reacts energetically when initiated.” She turned to Dray, “It explodes, General.”

The Captain grinned, “It sure goes boom, and there’s two hundred barrels of boom right here. You want a game changer, Celestia? This is it.”

Dray couldn’t help from grinning. This was it alright, this was what they needed! It was the proverbial rabbit in the hat, the trump card that could bring the Legion down to its knees. He looked to the Princess, who had an encouraging look of determination on her face,

“Your Majesty?”

She nodded, appearing to reach a decision in her head,

“Captain Gretel, give me a price for these and I will guarantee your payment upon delivery.” She turned suddenly towards the stairs, “Now, forgive me, but I have another matter to attend to before we can leave.”

Gretel bobbed her head, letting the Princess and the General pass. It was turning out to be a pretty good day all in all. She’d found Chalky, her leg had been fixed up, they’d sold the cargo and all of them would soon be as rich as Llamalian stew. It didn’t look like she’d have five minutes to herself for some time to come though, what with loading all those soldiers and the inevitable excited interrogation by Chalky to look forward to. She smiled to herself as she walked up the stairs - she’d enjoy telling him about the ship, about the Wind Wraith and all the excitement he’d missed. He wanted adventure? She’d fill him full of the best yarns she could, and if that’s wasn’t enough, she’d unleash Salty on him! Gretel chuckled, opening the door to her cabin and threw herself onto her bunk; everything was going to work out right for once. All she needed to do was to dump this lot off, grab the cash and get the hell out of there - if the Legion weren’t waiting for them of course. She shrugged to herself. What was profit without a little danger and excitement? The Revenge was happy, the crew keen and besides, those scummy bilge rats in the Legion had it coming. She hadn’t forgotten what they’d done and she’d make sure she paid them back in full. Suddenly, she sat up, looking across at the bookcase and the corner of the letter poking out; the letter from mum to…Bracken. Oh dear Goddess, what was she going to tell him? She sank into the pillow with a groan and closed her eyes. A few minutes snooze wouldn’t hurt, and with all that fur missing on her hind leg, a bit of beauty sleep wouldn’t go amiss.

**********************

Gretel groaned. It was warm here, and so comfortable. The grass smelt simply wonderful and the warmth of the stallion beside her as he tousled her hair felt absolutely amazing. She felt the most relaxed she had in longer than she cared to remember; no cares nor worries in the world could ruin this perfect moment. Chalky stroked her neck and she giggled coquettishly,

“Mmm, that’s nice.”

“Yeah…” he said seductively, “your mane’s so soft…”

Gretel had never thought of her mane as soft before. Rough, certainly, unmanageable and with a life of its own, definitely. Dad had always insisted on short manes and tails onboard due to practical reasons. Several of them, mares and stallions alike, had adopted plaits which now appeared to be becoming a bit of a fad amongst the crew, a virtual badge of the ship so to speak. Perhaps…

“Would you like my mane longer?” she muttered, enjoying the sensations, “I could plait it you know, would that be nice?”

“Mmhmm”

Gretel felt the stallion breathing softly in her ear, sending tingles down her spine as he began to nibble her ears,

“That’s nice…”

“Yeah, your ears are delicious…”

“Delicious…” Gretel sighed, “Hang on…” she jerked awake, her eyes wide, and found herself staring into the large green eyes of…

“CHALKY!”

The white unicorn grinned back at her,

“You expected somepony else, my Captain?”

She threw her forelegs around him and pulled him in tight, “Oh, you bloody stupid idiot!” she gasped, “I’m never letting you go again, never!”

“I hope not!” he chuckled, “This is the second time in one day you’ve greeted me like this. I could get used to it.”

Gretel pushed her muzzle into Chalk’s neck,

“I thought you were off looking for your pal, Bracken?”

“Nah, Brack’ll be okay.” He replied, “The General said he’s off on some special assignment but will be back soon. I dunno, but I think I kinsa trust the old fella, you know?” He looked down her flank, “Strata said you’d hurt your…”

“-Don’t look at it!” Gretel suddenly shrieked, pulling the covers over herself, “It’s embarrassing!”

Chalk frowned in confusion, “Why? I saw you before and I didn’t see anything wrong. Strata said you’d made a full recovery and were ‘new and improved’, whatever that means.”

“The…the furs not grown back yet,” she said looking away in embarrassment, “it’s…it’s cold too.”

Chalk leaned a foreleg over her, “Want me to warm you up?”

“Chalky…I’ve got jobs to do…” Gretel groaned, turning back to face him, “I have to…”

“Surely they can wait just a few minutes? I’ve not held you for so long, I just want to feel you against me.” Chalk pushed his muzzle into her mane, “You smell so wonderful.”

All of Gretel’s worries and concerns, her fears and trepidations, vanished as if they’d never existed as she nuzzled the white unicorn. She shook her head and smiled at him, gazing into his eyes,

“You really are a pretty pony.”

“Eh? What?!” Chalk said in surprise.

Gretel grabbed him suddenly and pulled him into a deep kiss, her voice smothered by his lips,

“Oh…shush…”

************************

Bracken sat by the picket fire, his cloak pulled tightly around himself, cursing under his breath. It was absolutely bloody freezing out here! Several times he’d scooted so close to the fire he’d managed to singe his fur, but it wasn’t as if he had much choice in the matter. His orders had been to follow Fan, the white guardsmare, out into the thick overgrown part of the forest and await further orders. Goddesses damn it all! Even Fan looked as bored as he did. What made matters worse was that the forest was so dense here he couldn’t see more than a few yards in front of him, let alone any Legion soldiers. If they were indeed out there, they’d be on top of them before they could react. Who’s stupid idea was this in the first place? He’d have to say something…

“Fan, I really think we…”

“Shhh…” the mare waved a hoof dismissively.

“But….”

“Shush, will you?” she hissed back irritably.

“Bollocks to you then.” Bracken muttered under his breath as he adjusted his position to something a little less uncomfortable. Goddesses above, what a bloody killjoy she was! No conversation, no pipe…oh yes, that was right, he wasn’t even allowed to smoke was he? Ostensibly it was in case the smell gave away their position - like the bloody campfire wasn’t going to do that already, right? He drew his sword and cleaning kit.

“Put that away!” Fan hissed.

“You know, you are really starting to…ah, buck it!” Bracken slammed his sword back into its scabbard and folded his forelegs angrily. He wasn’t good with mares at the best of times and this one in particular by the looks of it! If silence was what she wanted, then silence she’d get.

“Somepony’s coming” she suddenly murmured staring off into the forest, “It’s one of ours.”

How the hell did she know that? And what was with all these white ponies anyway? ‘Probably bleach’, Bracken thought to himself bitterly, ‘so they can look like their bloody princess no doubt’. He wasn’t impressed; a tall mare with wings and a horn? Big deal! Now if that had been Luna, the Princess of the night, then he may have been…

“Stand down, Corporal.”

It was General Dray.

Bracken looked up from under his bundled cloak. This was different. Why would the General himself come out here to see them? Doing the rounds of pep talks perhaps? The bushes rustled behind him and the white alicorn Princess emerged, her golden armour glinting in the dappled sunlight,

“Hello, Bracken.” She said quietly, “May I speak with you?”

Bowing quickly, the young stallion moved around the fire to make room. This was unexpected, not to mention worrying. Oh, hell fire! She couldn’t read thoughts could she? Oh, Goddesses he was in so much trouble!

“You and your friend have had quite the adventure haven’t you?” Celestia said derailing Bracken’s train of thought.

“I…er…yes, Your Majesty,” he stammered trying to re-order his thoughts, “its been…‘interesting’.”

“Indeed.” Celestia said pleasantly, ”Now then, since it’s just the two of us, I’d like to have more of a ‘heart to heart’ with you. Do you mind?”

Bracken’s heart suddenly leapt as he noticed Dray and Fan had disappeared, leaving, quite literally, just the two of them…alone. He cleared his throat,

“Um, no, Your Majesty.”

“Excellent.” She replied with a nod.

The Princess moved closer, a gold shod hoof reaching out and gently brushing against his neck, “Lie down, Bracken…please.”

“Oh…OH!” Bracken gasped as he found himself shrinking under her touch. His heart began hammering in his chest fit to burst and his breathing was coming faster and louder. Goddess above, what was happening? This was…he…had to get away! He had to…

The forest suddenly darkened around them, as if the light of the world itself was being drained away like water down a plug hole. Bracken could feel the icy tendrils of fear snaking their way through him, but also another feeling as well, one of…love? It was a perplexing mixture of emotion he didn’t like…not one bit!

He had a sudden awareness of something standing behind him, something…something big, and it…it touched him! Oh dear Goddess, he could imagine the sharp white teeth sinking into him at any moment, biting into the tender flesh of his rump. He squeezed his eyes shut and began to shake in fright, even as a voice, surprising calm and sultry, spoke in his ear,

“If that is your desire, dear Bracken…” the voice said exotically, “I may ‘indulge’ you.”

A lilting laugh echoed around the tiny clearing. Bracken’s emotional state, already feeling fragile enough as it was, now felt like it was about to explode, and most definitely for all the wrong reasons. Celestia let out an irritated snort,

“Your depravity truly knows no bounds, does it, Luna?”

The black mare laughed, her azure eyes sparkling in the glow from the fire as she sidled up beside Bracken,

“And yours does not, ‘sister’?” The mare laughed, “No, I suspect not! You always were such a boring prude Celestia, no wonder you are as withered and dry as ancient parchment. Nopony in their right mind would take you to their bed.”

Celestia snarled, “Whereas you were never fussy, at least, not once you’d joined with that foul thing from the Wither World.”

“Jealous, Celestia?” Nightmare Moon asked cocking her head to one side, “I can imagine you would be.” She leaned down and gently took Bracken’s head in her forelegs and kissed him. The black stallion closed his eyes and groaned happily as the mare finally released him, “That is power, Celestia, that is control.”

“That is a lie!” the white alicorn snapped, “He doesn’t love you, ‘Nightmare Moon’, you’re pulling his strings like some freakish marionette!”

“You think so?” Nightmare Moon replied, a slight hint of annoyance entering her voice, “You should know all about manipulation, Celestia, all too well.” The black mare’s mane billowed out behind her, “You use everypony like a tool: a ‘thing’ to be utilised and then cast away when the job is done. You wouldn’t know love if it jumped up and bit you on the rump.” She lowered he stance, her teeth bared, “Your heart is dead as the black sands.”

“Be silent, you cursed creature!” Celestia roared, “You have more than enough to answer for, you monster! How many of our people are dead, how many more have been left grieving those that are lost? All the misery and suffering that has befallen Equestria is because of your insatiable lust for that which you cannot have!”

Magical energy quickly began to build around the camp fire, the darkness increasing in intensity until only the ethereal glow of magic and the black of night were left,

“Cannot have? CANNOT HAVE?!” Nightmare Moon floated off the ground in an aura of magical fury, “You DARE to tell ME what I can and cannot have? I WILL have that which I desire Celestia, and MORE! MUCH, MUCH, MORE!” she began to laugh, a hint of what Celestia could only describe as ‘madness’ creeping in. “You stand before me, ME, like some damnable righteous prig and think you have the right to lecture ME!” The surging magic was building up to a hurricane of naked aggression, “You are a liar and a hypocrite! You will NEVER know what it is to love somepony Celestia, NEVER! You will be a dried up old virgin until the day you die and nopony, NOPONY will mourn when all the long years of your meaningless life finally snuff out like a guttering candle!”

Celestia could feel her heart breaking in her chest. Her sister…that thing’s words, cut like a knife right through her soul. She was….was she…right? All those years, the decisions she’d made, the things she’d done…her heart felt so empty…Oh, Gods…Rush…

“Yes! YES!” Nightmare Moon shrieked, “You see it now, don’t you?! I’m right! I’ve always been right! And now your tyranny and oppression of our people is finally at an end. I have won, Celestia, I’VE ALREADY WON!” she began to laugh, her voice resounding around them, loud and clear.

Celestia’s eyes filled with tears - that vile creature’s words hitting her with the force of a sledgehammer. Her sister, her beloved sister, tainted by that evil spirit had turned her into…into this…this beast! Memories of what she’d seen at the battle of River Valley assailed her, the horror visited upon Dray’s family, the cruelty and depravity of it all running through her mind like a tempest, and now the architect of all of that suffering was standing before her. Nightmare Moon’s laughter was still ringing in her ears as she raised her head, her horn glowing, her teeth bared,

“You evil…BITCH!” Celestia roared, “You dare bring your sickness into my home, murder my people…and stand there laughing about it?! Get out of my sister, you evil monster! GET OUT OF HER!”

The black mare shook her head, her mane billowing like the smoke of the camp fire, flowing and rolling around the clearing as she laughed,

“You don’t understand, do you, Celestia? Luna is me, and I her. She invited me because she needed me, and only I can give her what she most desires. It is that which you cannot stand the thought of isn’t it? That she, that I, could find something you never could.” The black mare sneered, lifting up Bracken’s unresisting face to hers, “Something you will NEVER know!”

Celestia took a step forward, her eyes glowing, “Get out of that pony, demon!” she snarled, “Leave him and return to your wicked realm and leave us in peace!”

“What, and leave my cute little Bracky?” Nightmare Moon chuckled, “Why should I? Luna has her fancies and I have mine. Young Bracken here…” she tapped him on the muzzle making him grin inanely, “he just hits the spot, don’t you my dark stallion.” She smirked at Celestia, “Oh, and don’t think about doing anything to him, Celestia.” Her voice lowered menacingly, “You really don’t want to know what I will do to your precious ponies if anything happens to him.”

“You’ll never know, demon.” Celestia said, her magic growing in intensity, “I shall draw you from him as poison is drawn from a wound. You shall leave this pony and never return!”

Magic suddenly began to build to a massive degree, causing the rocks, trees and ground to shake violently. Bracken looked about in fright, but his eyes still lingered on Nightmare Moon as she advanced on Celestia,

“How dare you!” The dark mare bellowed, “HOW DARE YOU! This is my domain, MINE!”

Celestia’s magic burned brightly, turning Nightmare Moon’s darkness into the brilliant light of day. She gritted her teeth and spread her wings, building her magic into a maelstrom of power and ethereal energy, focussing it, tuning it. Bracken cried out, his eyes bulging as he held his head. Nightmare Moon’s echoing screech of outrage rang out,

“Leave him ALONE!” She screamed, “You’ll pay for this you witch! I’ll hunt you down and you’ll all PAY!”

Celestia’s magic focussed upon Bracken, the black stallion shaking and gasping as the magic lanced through his body. The Princess took a deep breath,

“I…said…get…OUT!”

Nightmare Moon’s cry sounded as if it would crack the very world asunder, mingling as it did with a shriek of pain from Bracken and of triumph from Celestia. Nightmare Moon’s image shivered and began to fade, her words carrying to the Princess of the sun all the hatred and malice that lay within her heart,

“I know where you are, witch…I’m coming for you…I’M COMING FOR YOU!”

“Oh, I hope so,” Celestia gasped, wiping the beads of sweat from her brow. “I really hope so.”

Bracken cried out in anguish and fell back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He barely noticed the combination of magic and hooves carefully lifting him up and carrying him away. Goddess help him, his head hurt so much! He was adrift, floating away on a sea of nothingness - his exhaustion and disjointed memories deluging him with images of…things…such terrible, awful things! He could see it now, as clear as day - the enormous copper dragon, its eyes two large gleaming emerald like orbs. The beast was in absolute rapture as the limp body of a mare slipped down its gullet in one swallow. Bracken stared in horror…it was…unimaginable! Why? Why would they do something like this? As he watched, another dragon flicked up a tangerine coated stallion into its maw, his dead eyes staring accusingly as he was snapped in two by the brightly scaled beast. Another pony, another and another and…

She looked across at him. Her two tone pink mane caught the slight breeze that helped carry away the stench of carrion. She watched him with her lantern yellow eyes, calling to him silently, pleading with him to help her, but…but he couldn’t! His body wouldn’t move, his legs frozen like ice. All he could do was shout out to her in silent anguish as the giant maw, bristling with sword like teeth, descended upon her. He struggled, oh, how he struggled! She couldn’t hear him, he couldn’t hear her, but he could see the resignation in her eyes - the merciless, casual cruelty of the dragon as it took up just another piece of meat…just another life. Bracken screamed. He howled, thrashed and cried out his anger and hatred to the world around him. His mare, the only one who’d ever seen him as something other than a hanger-on…she was…there was nothing…nothing he could do! But…he had to try! HE HAD TO!

“PICKLES!” he screamed, “PICKLESSS!!!”

Voices, voices in the darkness shouted at him, trying to calm him. Didn’t they understand? Couldn’t they see them? They were dying! They were nothing to these beasts, nothing more than food! They had to run, they had to escape, they had to get away!

“Damn it, will somepony hold him down!”

“Doctor, we have to get his temperature down, he’s burning up.”

“Goddesses damn it all! Get the Princess down here somepony: she did this for bucks sake! Strata! STRATA!”

“Hang on, Doc, I’m here….Dear Goddesses, he’s in a bad way. Make room everypony, please!”

Now came a new voice, one he remembered from long ago…it sounded…so far away…

“Brack? BRACK! Dear Goddesses, no! What the hell have you done to him!”

“Somepony get him out of here!”

Bracken’s screams echoed around the ship, making even the Revenge unsettled. She shuddered at her anchor, sending her feelings of unease throughout the crew and especially her Captain. Gretel hurried down the stairs, following hot of the hooves of the Princess and past a highly agitated Chalk Dust.

“Stay out here, love, please.” She said, brushing a hoof along his cheek. Chalk closed his eyes, shaking with emotion and unable to speak.

Closing the door behind her, Gretel prayed the situation wasn’t as bad as Chalky obviously thought it was. She still couldn’t believe this was happening though; what in Equestria had happened to Bracken to cause this sort of reaction? She let her eyes adjust to the light in sick bay as the Princess examined the curled up form in the bed. Her face paled,

“Nightmare Moon’s magic ran deeper than I had anticipated.” Celestia said shaking her head. She looked across at Doc, “I fear that by forcibly pulling the spell from him, I’ve put his life in jeopardy.”

Strata leaned across the bed and stared down into Bracken’s wild eyes, “Princess, do you know Sceptre’s Parallax Inversion?” he asked without looking up.

Celestia looked taken aback, “I…yes, yes I do.”

“Good, then set it up between the two nodes…” he motioned to a brass contraption with suspended wires and gems that he was quickly setting up over Bracken’s bed, “here…and…here.”

The Princess nodded, her eyes focussed on the task at hoof. Nopony else spoke, the tension in the room as intense as the light from the alicorns horn. Celestia’s magic glowed like the sun itself, sending out what appeared to be thin strands of light into the space between the gems Strata indicated. As the ponies watched, the strands began to merge, to knit together into a symbol, or patttern of some kind. Whatever it was, Strata was nodding intently.

“That’s it…” he said distractedly, adjusting the device. Strata’s own horn was glowing now, “I need to re-connect this node, and then…” he gritted his teeth, the effort clearly straining him, “Hell! This is like knitting with pins!” his horn glowed brighter, “Come on, damn you…come…on…yes! There!”

Gretel looked down at the cloth and bowl she was holding in her forehooves. What possible use was this going to be now? Come to think of it, this must have been similar to what Strata had done to her. She’d thanked him of course, but he’d waved it off as nothing of importance. As for the ship’s insistence that he was one of the ponies known as ‘Shipwrights’, she hadn’t enquired further. After all, what difference would it make if he was? Strata was Strata, and a valued member of her crew - it didn’t matter a damn ‘what’ he was. Hadn’t she learned anything with the whole unicorn fiasco? She paused, nodding her head…yes, yes she had. Gretel looked at Doc who gestured for her to leave quietly; he’d seen Chalk’s head poking round the door, his bloodshot eyes wide as saucers with worry for his best friend. Gretel quietly trotted over and gently pushed him back out, pulling the door shut behind her,

“Chalky, I think he’s going to be okay. Strata and the Princess are both in there with him, so he’s getting the very best of care.”

The white unicorn sank to his haunches, his eyes downcast, “I know,” he said helplessly, “it’s just…he’s been my friend for so many years, since we were foals really, that…if anything happened to him, I…I don’t know what I’d do…”

Gretel took him up in her forelegs and kissed his muzzle, “I know, but you have to have faith in your friends, both Bracken and Strata. That unicorn knows magic beyond anything I’ve ever seen before.”

Chalk looked up, a ghost of his usual smile on his face, “He’d better! Some unicorns are…” he trailed of, “Oh, sod it. Ignore me, Gretel, I’m being a dick.”

The red mare chuckled, “You? Mister Unicorn, I would never think that of you.” She leaned down and gave him a cheeky grin, “Now a twit, meh…maybe?”

She narrowly dodged the playful grab which Chalk made for her and hurried off down the corridor to the stairs up to the deck. She’d get him outside and into the sunshine; ponies needed the sun and Chalk needed a distraction from his worry for his friend. In typical Chalk Dust fashion, the distraction came soon enough,

“What’s happened to Stock and Cyclone?” He asked curiously, “I haven’t seen them about since you landed. Are they alright?”

“Oh yes, they’re fine.” Gretel said smiling back at him, “They’re off delivering a hold full of ‘the most exquisite rugs and tapestries’.”

Chalk opened the door to the cabin, “How?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m missing something here aren’t I?” the white unicorn said raising his eyebrows.

Gretel chuckled, “As always…” she trotted over to the rack of bottles and took down two glasses, “There’s a lot to tell you, but I think we can make a start.”

“But…but we have to leave!” Chalk said urgently, “The Princess said that…”

“-you haven’t noticed?” Gretel said shaking her head, “We took off ages ago, while you were panicking besides yourself over Bracken.” She tapped him on the nose, “We’re off to a place called…” she peered at the map, “here it is…’Drakestown’.”

“Wh…what?! Drakestown?!” Chalk spluttered.

“You’ve heard of it?”

“Good Goddesses, have I heard of it?” Chalk sighed, rubbing his muzzle with a hoof, “I think we need to talk…”

Chapter Thirty Seven - Where a Soul Sleeps

CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

WHERE A SOUL SLEEPS

It was warm and safe here, the scent of wildflowers tickling his nose with their gentle perfume. Bracken smiled. He never wanted to leave this magical place, not to go back there…no. He was loved here, he was needed; everything was going to be the way it should have always been - no pain, no cruelty…only love.

Bracken rolled over and stretched out in the sunshine, the sky overhead as blue as the sea, the sun warm and gentle. A playful breeze blew, just enough to tickle his ears and make him snuggle all the more into the sea green mare. She was so beautiful, so kind…

“Bracken?”

Her voice was velvety soft, flowing over him and making his muzzle tingle.

“Bracken? Listen to me now, my stallion.”

He wanted to listen, but he just didn’t want to move, to break the moment. But…he didn’t want to upset her…

“Mmm?” he opened one eye and peered up into her lantern yellow eyes. They always took his breath away, always…

“Bracken, you can’t stay here, you have to go home.”

She was stroking his mane, her hooves as soft as cotton wool. He wanted to stay, he wanted to be here forever…with her.

“I am home.” He murmured.

That silken voice returned, “It’s not your time yet,” she said calmly, “your friends need you.”

Bracken shook his head, “I don’t want to, I want to stay here. Please, Pickles, I don’t want to go back there.”

The mare closed her eyes and leaned towards him, kissing him on the forehead,

“They’re coming to send you back, my Bracken, but I’ll be here when you return.” She nuzzled him lovingly, “They say time is different here, and it will seem only as the blink of an eye.”

“But…it could be years!” Bracken said anxiously, “This isn’t fair!”

“No…” Pickles replied wistfully, “No I don’t suppose it is, but then life rarely is.” She nudged him, “Come on now, my black stallion, on your hooves and back to my daughter. Don’t tarry now.”

Reluctantly Bracken pulled himself to his hooves, his body protesting and his mind screaming to him to stay where he was…he didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to leave her! Damn it, he’d just found her again! What was…?

Light burst around him making his shriek at the sudden shock to his senses. Feelings, sounds, memories and smells, everything slammed into him with all the force of a hurricane. He didn’t like it! He wanted Pickles, he wanted to…to…

A large pair of chestnut eyes peered into his, “Bracken? Back with us now? Jolly good!”

Bracken blinked, pulling himself up the mattress and stared around himself at the ponies surrounding the bed: Chalky, Gretel, Doc, Strata and…the Princess? He swallowed, but then…he couldn’t see her. Where was she?

“Where’s Pickles?”

“Pickles?” Celestia asked curiously, looking at the others.

“My…mother,” Gretel said quietly, “She…”

Celestia closed her eyes and nodded solemnly. Gently, she laid a hoof on Bracken’s shoulder,

“Come now, little one, you’ve been through a lot and need to rest. You’re safe now, your friends are here.”

Bracken shook his head in confusion, “But…but Pickles, I…”

The Princess tapped him gently on the nose, “All things in the fullness of time, young pony. Come on now, you don’t want me to tell Pickles you didn’t get enough rest do you?”

“No…”

Celestia leaned down and kissed him on the forehead - the effect almost instantaneous. Within moments, Bracken was fast asleep, his chest rising and falling gently. The Princess tucked the sheets in around him and stood back,

“Sleep well, son of Equestria.” She turned to the Gretel, “Captain, may I speak with you in private?”

Gretel nodded, leaving Chalk to sit with his friend while the others quietly tidied up around the sleeping black stallion. She led the Princess up the stairs, past the milling soldiers on the deck and into her cabin. She knew what was going to be asked here and she really didn’t want to bring it up again, but sooner or later, Bracken would have to know.

“Your mother is with the herd isn’t she?” Celestia asked quietly.

Gretel walked towards the large window and stared out at the clouds below, her heart suddenly heavy despite the joy of witnessing Chalky’s reaction to his friend’s improvement. She shrugged,

“She was murdered by an assassin, one of Nightmare Moon’s thugs.”

“I see…” The Princess closed her eyes and felt a wash of anguish flood through her. Assassination? Luna? Why would she…oh…oh, no…

Suddenly it all seemed so clear now. The images, the sounds, the intensity of emotion, the words of that damnable creature - they all began to come together like pieces of a puzzle.

“You know something, don’t you.” Gretel said quietly.

“Captain…” Celestia began.

“-I’m not a child, Princess, I’ve already buried my mother.” Gretel turned and looked her right in the eyes, “If you know the truth, you can tell me you know.”

Celestia shook her rainbow mane, the colours dancing and sparkling around her as she nodded, “If I knew the truth, Captain, I would tell you. However, I can speculate.” She walked up to the window beside her and gazed out at the beautiful scenery of Equestria far below. It was a world that should never have known war, nor the darkness of the Legion and their monstrous leader, Nightmare Moon. Celestia pictured that grinning creature and the way it had held Bracken, the look in its…’her’ eyes. A word immediately jumped into her mind,

“Jealousy.”

“Jealousy?” Gretel echoed, raising her eyebrows, “I don’t understand.”

Celestia sighed, “When I was linked with Bracken I saw images, scenes that…that I cannot describe. He saw things in the Legion camp, what they were doing there, and what she did to him.” The Princess shuddered, “She…placed a spell within him, one that blocked him from remembering his time there. It was probably intended to prevent him divulging information under interrogation or letting slip details accidentally, but it was far more than that. The spell was also a conduit, allowing Nightmare Moon to see the world through Brackens eye’s and hear through his ears. The bond weakens with distance, but under certain circumstances, it can allow her to act ‘through’ him and control his actions - if only in a limited way.”

“You’re starting to sound like Strata” Gretel muttered.

“Am I?” Celestia chuckled, “A fascinating unicorn to be true.” She sat on her haunches and stretched her wings, “The spell was only part of this though, Captain. May I ask: were Bracken and your mother in love?”

Gretel gritted her teeth. Goddess damn it, she needed a drink. She bit back the sudden surge of emotions and nodded, “I believe they may have been, in their own way…” she sighed, “Look, Princess, my mother and I, we didn’t talk very much and after dad died, even less. If she loved Bracken, we’ll never know. She only met him fleetingly anyway from what Chalky told me.”

The Princess chuckled despite herself, “It only takes a glance sometimes, Captain, other times a little longer. Nopony knows until it’s too late.”

“But what’s this got to do with Bracken?” Gretel asked, “You said ‘jealousy’, so what, Nightmare Moon was jealous of his feelings for my mother?”

Celestia nodded, “You didn’t see the way she was with him in the clearing. If there was ever a creature I would describe as ‘obsessed’, it would be her.”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Gretel rumbled, “you’re saying that Nightmare Moon had my mother assassinated because she had a fling with Bracken? Good Goddess!”

Celestia turned away, “Like I said, I can only speculate.”

“But if that’s true, then…” Gretel span around to face her, “then she’ll be looking for him! Bloody hell, Celestia, he could be like a signal fire drawing her to us!”

The white alicorn shook her head, “No. The spell has been removed, and besides, the focus of her hatred is me. I believe she feels I ‘took’ Bracken from her and for that, I doubt I could ever expect any mercy from her should we meet.” She narrowed her eyes, “When we meet”.

“So what now?” Gretel asked, “If she can’t track him, she’ll still be looking for him.”

“Oh, she most certainly will!” Celestia laughed, “Back where we were. Why do you think I kept Bracken away where he couldn’t see your ship? Nightmare Moon will be looking for us high and low, but won’t think to check the skies.”

“All part of the plan, eh?” Gretel said pouring out a brandy, “And we’re just pawns in the game.”

“We’re all pawns, Captain, even me.” The Princess smiled sadly, “The real players are ones that even I cannot touch.”

Gretel swallowed her brandy, closing her eyes and concentrating on feeling the spirit flowing down her throat and settling in her stomach. Celestia had tricked her; she’d convinced her that Nightmare Moon knew about the sky galleon through her link with Bracken, but it had all been a clever ruse to get what she wanted. Gretel smiled to herself - the Princess was a sharp one alright.

“Princess?”

The white alicorn raised an eyebrow, “Yes, Captain?”

“You don’t have any money do you?”

Celestia sniffed and gave a wry smile, “I did, in my vault at the castle. Whether it is still there or not…I don’t know.”

“But you’d still want me to give you the barrels, wouldn’t you?” Gretel asked.

“Yes.”

“For the sake of Equestria?”

“Partly,” Celestia said honestly, “but also because I know you are a mare who has her own code of honour. I suspect, Captain Gretel, that you want to see the end of Nightmare Moon as much as anypony.”

“Perhaps.” Gretel replied quietly, “But you need to realise something Celestia, and that is my ship and my crew are to me as Equestria is to you. The deck of this vessel is my Equestria, the ship and crew are my family, and I will fight to protect them until my last drop of blood.” She lifted an eyebrow, “I appreciate honesty and truthfulness highly, Princess. I run an open ship, from the lowest deckhoof to the officers of the deck. I don’t appreciate being made a fool of.”

Celestia nodded, “I had no intention of making you feel that way, Captain, but you have to understand as well, that I will do whatever it takes, whatever it takes, to save my home and people. I didn’t lie to you about the mission, nor the reward. You will receive your payment if I have to squeeze it from every noble in the land.”

Gretel laughed, slamming her glass down on the table,

“Now that I’d like to see!”

Celestia smiled. She liked the Captain. She was, in some ways, a mare she would have loved to have been: a free spirit, an adventurer, a mare with a passion for life and for love. Maybe not so much of the hard spirits though, but there must be tea drinking Captains out there somewhere. Ah, dreams…

“Well, if you will excuse me Captain,” The Princess said turning to leave, “I must confer with my officers.”

Gretel bobbed her head, “Of course, we should make good time to Drakestown. I’ll have you informed as soon as we’re near.”

The Princess nodded her head and left the cabin, closing the door with her magic behind her. Gretel cringed, but mentally reprimanded herself for her reaction. There was no need now was there? The cargo was magically shielded and not in any particular danger, and as for the Revenge, Amy had said she actually found the presence of magic on board, ‘stimulating’! In fact the way that enigmatic mare looked at her sometimes…she shuddered. Her two helmsponies, Haggis and Salty, were like colts again, joking and batting at each other playfully. The upbeat feeling wasn’t lost on the rest of the crew either and Gretel had the distinct impression that a lot of it was tied to Amy’s mood. Goddess help them if she ever got upset, but generally, it seemed she was a sensible, if rather raunchy being who had the counterbalance of the Revenge’s soul to even out any ‘excesses’ that she may be inclined towards. At least, that was what Gretel liked to think. In reality, she suspected that there was a lot more than tea, cakes and cricket matches going on when Mister Haggis and his cohort were involved. She snorted to herself. So long as the ship was happy and the job got done, what the crew got up to in their spare time was none of her concern.

Gretel returned to the map table and perused the course she’d laid out. It would take them high over the mountains, across the marshes and down towards the river well before they reached Drakestown. The water there, at least according to the charts, was deep and fed the nearby estuary. It was just as well really too, as the Revenge would be low in the water with all the extra weight and they sure as hell didn’t want to run aground there. Fortunately though, the Revenge herself was the best navigator for those waters and combined with her experienced crew, it shouldn’t prove to be too much of an issue. What was more concerning was what was going to happen once they arrived at Drakestown. Gretel rubbed her eyes; it was getting late, and she’d been up for hours. The day’s business had been quite productive overall but now she needed to get some sleep or she’d be no good for anypony. With a yawn, she checked the time - Cleat would be officer of the deck now and she could finally enjoy a few hours of rest.

There was a quiet knock at the door,

“Gretel? Are you still up?” It was Chalky.

The Captain looked over her shoulder while she turned down the lanterns,

“I am, just. I thought you were staying with Bracken?”

Chalk yawned, “I was, but he’s sleeping soundly now. Doc said I should get some sleep and that he’d end up standing on me if I didn’t get out from under his hooves.”

“Aye, that sounds like him.” Gretel stretched her legs and neck, letting out a long sigh, “Come on then, make sure you’ve cleaned your hooves first though, I won’t have muck in the bed.”

Chalk lifted his hooves for inspection, “Do I pass muster, Cap’n?”

Leaning forward, Gretel kissed him on the forehead, “You do, only just though.” She chuckled, “But no misbehaving tonight, love, I’m absolutely worn out.”

“I know what you mean,” Chalk replied, “All that business with Bracken frightened the life out of me. I thought back then that…well, you know.”

Gretel folded back the covers and slipped in, the cool sheets pleasantly tingling against her hide. She turned to face the wall, smiling as the warm stallion carefully got in beside her. Chalk laid he muzzle across her neck,

“He doesn’t know about Pickles yet does he?” he said quiety, “Do you want me to tell him?”

The Captain let out a soft sigh, “No, leave it to me. It really should come from her daughter.”

There was a pause before Chalk spoke, “Gretel?”

“Hmm?”

“I missed you.”

Gretel lifted her head just enough to peek back at him, “I know, I missed you too love.”

Chalk let out a content sigh, “I know it’s probably not the best time, but you remember you wanted to say something to me before all that…you know, ‘stuff’ happened in Spurs Anvil. What was it?”

Gretel turned over until she was virtually nose to nose with him - not an easy feat in such a small bed, “To tell you, Mister Chalk, that I would like you to join my crew. You have a home here, if you want. But there’ll be no slacking mind you. In fact, I have a particular job in mind for you.”

“Oh?” he replied raising his eyebrows curiously.

The Captain smiled, “How are you with wind?”

Chalk scratched his muzzle, “Wind? Not bad really, beans don’t affect me all that much.”

“I meant wind as in what makes the wind go you twit!” Gretel bopped him on the nose, “Magical manipulation of wind, or something. I don’t know, Strata’s told me about it.”

“I’m not that good at magic, Gretel,” Chalk said looking down shyly, “I’m…”

The red mare leaned forward and kissed his muzzle, “Strata said he’d teach you, if you’d like.”

Chalk faltered. He’d never been especially good with magic, other than for the usual unicorn basics of object manipulation, light spells, a few combat spells he’d learned in the army, and being able to heat air enough to start a fire - none of which came anywhere near the complexities of element manipulation. Then there was that whole ‘magic going out of control thing’, which in all probability was the biggest stumbling block he had, and something he wanted to leave well alone. Being home schooled had hampered his magical development, but he was no better nor worse than most unicorns he knew. ‘Magic’…he took it for granted, but sometimes he wondered what it would be like to be without it, to be like Bracken. Chalk closed his eyes and pondered what life would have been like as an earth pony – to have all that strength, but also having to do everything with your mouth or hooves? No, not easy. What about a pegasus? Flying would be so cool! Sleeping could be a bit awkward though with those wings.

A warm nuzzle caught his attention, “Oh!” he squeaked, “Um, yes, yes I’ll see him in the morning.”

“Mmm, that’s my stallion.” Gretel kissed him on the lips gently, “Oh, and speaking of what I was going to tell you… there was something else…”

Chalk’s heart leaped. He wanted to close his eyes, frightened about what she was going to say, but he just could look away from the large shining eyes of hers, the way her smile made them sparkle all the more. He loved her so much…Goddesses he would do anything for her, but…but she was going to tell him something now…what if this was it? What if he was just a…a plaything for her? He suddenly wanted to run, to get away as far as possible, but if he did that there’d be no going back. Chalk took a breath and tried to take charge of his emotions as Gretel moved into him.

“You know,” she said with a glint in her eye, “i’d had this whole speech in mind for you, about how I felt, about my past and…” she shook her head, “now I can’t remember any of it. I guess it was pretty pointless anyway.”

Chalk smiled, “I’d like to hear more about your life Gretel, when you’re ready.”

“Oh, stop being so bloody sensible!” she teased nipping his ear.

“Ow! Hey!”

“Well, you deserved it.” She huffed, “It’s all your bloody fault anyway, making me feel like this all the time: you with your white coat, green eyes and soft flanks.”

“I do not have soft flanks!” Chalk protested with a huff, “It’s muscular…” he reached down and gave himself an experimental prod, “Um, mostly anyway. I’m not an earth pony you know.”

“Mmm, funnily enough, i’d noticed.” Gretel smirked, “Anyway we’re going off the subject.” She blinked and took a breath, “Chalky, we’ve not known each other very long have we?”

“No…” Chalk said, suddenly feeling deflated.

“But…” she tapped him on the nose, “I think we know enough about each other to…you know…something…”

“’Something?’” Chalk suddenly barked a laugh.

“Stop it!” Gretel frowned, pushing the unicorn away slightly, “Don’t make fun of me! It’s not easy this you know!”

Chalk smiled, his green eyes looking into hers, “Gretel, you don’t need to tell me, I already know.”

Gretel’s heart skipped a beat. Goddess in her heaven, she needed this stallion more than any bloody gold in Celestia’s damned castle, and she would have him. He was hers! Her breathing was coming heavy now, and hard, despite her tiredness. How Chalk had that effect upon her she’d never know…

“You’ve been calling me ‘love’ all day” Chalk said raising an eyebrow, “did you realise?”

“Huh?” Gretels train of thought completely derailed, “Have I?” she couldn’t remember, but…oh, Goddess…she had hadn’t she? “Chalky?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you used magic on me?”

“No!” he laughed, “I wouldn’t know how!”

Chalk squeaked in surprise as a hoof glided down his side towards his cutie mark. He closed his eyes, feeling Gretel’s lips brush his,

“I think you do,” she purred, “and you want to know something else?” Chalk groaned under her touch as Gretel squeezed, making the white unicorn shudder, “I love you Chalky…” she kissed him, softly on the lips, “my soft flanks.”

*****************************

Bracken sat up in bed, his headache completely gone and felling surprisingly fresh and alert. He felt, truth be told, better than he had in absolutely ages! He rolled off the bed and landed squarely on his hooves. They were a little unsteady at first and his legs a touch wobbly, but a quick stretch and a shake, and he was good to go. He looked around, but there was nopony in sick bay other than him - they were probably all up on deck. He could hear the rumbling of hooves above him, together with a constant background buzz of chatter. With a loud neigh, that surprised even himself, Bracken headed for the door and nearly collided with Doc as he walked in,

“Hey! What are you doing out of bed, Mister?” the blue stallion lifted a hoof stopping Bracken’s progress, “Come on, back you go.”

“Bugger that!” Bracken huffed, “I want some fresh air. Come on Doc, I feel fine.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, young stallion,” Doc replied in his no-nonsense manner, “now do as you’re bloody well told – back to bed!”

Groaning, Bracken did as he was told and slumped down on the mattress, waiting for the doctor to bring round his medical gear.

“Right then,” the blue earth pony said levelly, “Let give you the once over before you go anywhere. I won’t have a patient of mine keeling over on the deck, understood?”

“Sure, Doc.” Bracken rolled his eyes.

The doctor began prodding and poking him, listening to his chest, looking in his eyes, until eventually, thankfully, he nodded and sat back,

“Right, that does it.” Doc said, “So far as I can tell, Bracken, you’re fine and dandy. But listen, you’ve had a particularly nasty spell pulled from you and you may find some of your memories appear somewhat disjointed, or just plain strange. Strata and Celestia said they’ll settle down with time, but it may still be a little unsettling for you for a while yet. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Doc. I think so.” Bracken took a deep breath, “I think I’d like some fresh air now.”

Doc watched him go and shook his head sadly. Bracken was a good pony, but some stallions just drew misfortune like a lightning rod. He’d seen it before, mercifully rarely, but they were out there alright; ‘Fate’s Fools’ they used to call them. Hopefully, pulling that damnable spell from him may go some way to helping him to a better future, but first, some poor sod had to break the news to him about Pickles. Doc sighed and turned back to wiping down the bench, thanking the Goddesses, rather guiltily, that it wasn’t him.

Up on deck Bracken blinked in the bright sunshine. How long had he been down there in the lamp lit gloom? Hours? Days? He leaned on the ship’s railing and took long deep breaths, staring down at the land far below. By the Goddess, how could anypony get used to this?! He didn’t feel any motion sickness, but the height! No, he definitely wasn’t good with heights. Fortunately, the constant movement around the deck was distracting him: soldiers, lots of them. They were everywhere, trying to keep out of the way of the sailors but they were all here, even Cookie and that misery Fan. What in Equestria was going on? He groaned an rubbed his face with a foreleg - bloody hell, what a mess his head was in! He’d lost days by the looks of things. The last thing he remembered was…the Princess? No…well, actually yes, she had been there, but somepony else…with a darker coat, those azure eyes so deep and drawing him in…

“Ahoy Bracken!”

Bracken jumped in surprise, spinning round to see a brown and cream stallion standing before him,

“Good ter see yer lad. Ye be Chalky’s pal ain’t yer?”

“Er…aye, I am…sir.” Bracken stammered.

The pony rolled his eyes, “’Salty’, young fella, just Salty. Now, get yerself up ter the Capn’s cabin, quick as ye like.”

Bracken nodded, casting a curious glance back at the peculiar pony. He reminded him of somepony…one who…that was it! The other one who spoke just like him in the Fighting Cocks - what was his name now? Weasel? Weevil! Bloody hell, all that ‘Aargh’ stuff! Maybe Chalky had a point after all. He picked up his pace and hurried to the Captain’s cabin, keen to get away from the strange fellows oddly knowing grin. Years aboard this thing must have had a peculiar effect on the crew; they all seemed a bit eccentric to say the least. The sooner they got down to the ground the better - the sky was definitely not a place for earth ponies!

He took a breath and knocked on the door.

“Come in”

Bracken pushed open the ancient wooden door and peered in. There was the Captain, brushing her mane, and behind her a very familiar looking white unicorn who appeared to be the new ships maid. He raised an eyebrow - Chalky…making the bed! Bracken couldn’t help but sniff back a laugh. Back in the barracks Chalky barely found the time, or inclination, to tidy up anything after himself and was always getting in trouble for it. Now he looked…well, ‘at home’ somehow. Strange indeed…

“Captain Gretel?” he said politely, “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes Bracken,” she indicated to a chair by the table, “are you feeling any better?”

“Er…yes, thanks Captain, I am.” Bracken cast a glance at Chalk who smiled at him sadly. “Is something the matter?” he asked curiously.

The red coated mare pulled up her own chair, “Chalky, can you get us a brandy each?”

Once they sitting comfortably, the Captain stared down at her hooves for a moment and took a deep breath before she began to speak, “Bracken, you knew my mother didn’t you?”

Bracken furrowed his brow, “Your mother?”

Gretel nodded slowly, “Pickles.”

“Your mother! I…” Bracken’s eyes flew open, his attention now fully on the Captain, “Yes…I mean, a little…I mean…”

Gretel looked up at him, “Bracken, I’m sorry, but…my mother…died recently. We held the funeral a few days ago.”

Bracken’s heart felt as if it had frozen solid in his chest, his stomach as heavy as lead. He stared at the Captain unsure how to react, then looked down at the table, his ears flopping involuntarily. He’d seen her, he’d held her, in that place…that wonderful place…

“I know” he said quietly, “I…I saw her, in a dream…one that wasn’t really a dream.”

Gretel looked at Chalk who shrugged helplessly, “Bracken, I know you had only just met her, but she wanted me to give you this…” she reached into the drawer by the table and produced a small scroll, “Do you want to take it away to read it?”

Bracken’s voice was quiet, but steady, “No…I’ll read it here if I may.” He glanced up at Chalk, “Sorry, Chalky…”

“Don’t be sorry, you daft bugger,” Chalk said trotting over and giving him a tight hug, “you’re my best pal. I’m right here for you.”

Gretel stood up and pushed her chair back under the table, “I’ll leave you two in peace.”

Bracken didn’t even notice she’d gone as he stared at the scroll. It was strangely ominous and yet, delicate, even smelling of her. He lifted it to his muzzle and took in her scent, the scent of the first mare that he’d ever felt anything for, the first one that had ever felt anything for him - even if it had been little more than a fleeting encounter. Some pony’s may find it strange, nonsensical even, that he could have lost his heart so quickly to a mare he’d only just met, and maybe they were right. Perhaps he really was nothing more than a simple, foolish earth pony, but damn them…what did they know? WHAT DID THEY KNOW? He choked down a breath, his eyes burning. Grabbing his brandy, he downed it in one swallow and carefully slid off the small red ribbon that encircled it and slipped it into his pocket,

Dearest Bracken,

I hope this message finds you safe and in good health.

Firstly, I beg that you forgive the presumption of this message. I understand that you may well have moved on since we first met and if indeed you have, as I feel most assuredly that you should, then I wish you most wholeheartedly my fondest wishes.

I told you when I first met you that I was a mare who knew what she wanted, and should I have lived to see you again, I truly believe that I could have provided you with a home filled with kindness and love.

As I write this, it grieves me to know that my time here in this world is short and that it is unlikely I shall see you again before I pass to the goddesses embrace in the eternal herd. I will pray for your safety, for that of your friends and a long happy life for you and your loved ones.

Bracken, you are a wonderful stallion with a kind soul. I knew it the moment I saw you and can only hope that you take heart in knowing that you touched the heart of a mare that so few have ever come close to before.

May the goddesses bless you and hold you safe, always,

Yours,

Pickles

Bracken placed the scroll on the table and leaned back, closing his eyes as Chalk passed him a full glass of brandy. He couldn’t even remember drinking the last one.

“Brack? You okay dude?” Chalk asked, a note of concern in his voice.

“I hardly knew her.” Bracken said quietly, “So how can I feel anything for her? That’s what ponies would say, right?”

Chalk sat and said nothing. He hadn’t known Gretel that long either really, and yet, both friends had fallen for a mother and daughter. It sounded like some sort of plot you’d find a lewd five bit novel, but the pain in Bracken’s voice spoke volumes all of its own.

“Yeah…” Bracken snorted, “…how can I…”

Chalk watched a solitary tear roll down his friend’s face, before it disappeared, soaking into his fur. He didn’t know what to say, or what to do. His friend had lost somepony, somepony who had touched him and left an imprint on his heart that would never fade. The memories may diminish over time, the pain dull, but the love, if indeed that was what it was, would never quite go away. It would be waiting for him on dark, cold nights when he was alone…reminding him of her, the sea green mare, the one whom he would never be able to hold again…never…

“I’ll see her again,” Bracken said suddenly, wiping his muzzle. He jumped down from the chair, “some day, I will see her again.” He looked at Chalk, his eyes bloodshot and wet with tears, “What happened to her, Chalky? You know don’t you?”

Chalk nodded,

“Legion. We think so anyway. Pickles killed the assassin, but he’d already…you know…”

Bracken snorted, his eyes narrowing, “Why, Chalky? Why would the Legion do that? What could they possibly gain from murdering Pickles?”

Chalk shook his head, “I don’t know, Brack, really I don’t. If I did, I’d tell you.” he sighed, “We don’t know what she was doing before we met her. I suppose it could have been for any number of reasons.”

The black stallion knocked back his brandy,

“Aye.” Gritting his teeth he walked to the door, “Chalky?”

“Yeah?”

Bracken closed his eyes for a moment before looking back over his shoulder at his friend,

“Thanks.”

*************************

Gretel stood on the quarterdeck, looking out at the clouds below them as they slipped by. Bracken had just come out of the cabin and gone forward towards the bow without a word, probably looking for some quiet thinking time. She noticed the way his shoulders slumped and his head hung down, realising that maybe, just maybe, there really had been something between him and her mother. Perhaps given time and without this damned war, that tiny spark, that seed of love could have grown into something more. She gave her mane a shake and sighed. Initially, she’d wanted to see the scroll that contained the last written words from her mother, but the more she’d thought about it, the less she did. They were private words, one’s intended for Bracken and, she suspected, him alone. She grimaced. How many more ponies, how many loved ones would be sacrificed for the sake of a sisters spat? Bloody ‘royalty’, they were all the same.

“Captain!” Haggis’ voice carried up to her over the hustle and bustle of the main deck, “We’re about to start our approach to Drakestown.”

Gretel nodded, “Thank you Mister Haggis.” She quickly spotted the large form of the Master at Arms, “Mister Cleat!”

“Aye, Captain?”

The Captain tapped her hoof on the balustrade, “Get these soldiers below and make ready for water landing. Have somepony inform the Princess, if you please.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Gretel watched the flurry of activity around her: the way the soldiers were herded down the stairs to allow the crew to do their work unhampered as the ships bow began to dip almost imperceptibly. Moments later, the first whisps of cloud began to whip across the deck, quickly engulfing the small figure of the black stallion standing like a statue on the forecastle. Part of Gretel wanted to go to him and pull him away, to take him away from the painful memories he was having, but she knew that really this was something he needed to reconcile himself. Bracken’s friends were all here, ready to comfort him when he needed them. She shook her head sadly. By the time Celestia’s plans had been brought to fruition, the chances were there would be a lot more ponies wondering why their lives had seemingly come to an abrupt halt when they found a loved one had simply…gone; a hell of a lot more.

At the careful guidance of Haggis, the Revenge slid through the clouds and continued her descent towards the wide green-blue ribbon of the river below. It was quite majestic really, peaceful even. The idyllic landscape of farmsteads, river, forests, hills and lush green fields was so typically Equestrian, Gretel half expected it to appear on a tin of biscuits. In fact, it probably already was. She grinned to herself and returned to her cabin to collect her gear. Chalk was inside, already his attired with his basic gear and that odd sword of his. Whenever she saw it, it made her think of Amy, the way she sparkled, as indeed they all must have back when the Empire was still ‘here’. By the Goddess, she hoped he would be safe, she hoped they’d all be safe.

“How was he?” she asked Chalk as she shrugged into her heavy shore coat.

He smiled sadly, “He’ll be okay. He’s quite a resilient sort of fellow.” Chalk passed Gretel her sword, “How about you?”

“Me?” She paused a moment, thinking, then shook her mane, “Okay, just a little melancholy I suppose. It’ll pass.” Gretel looked up right into the large green eyes of her white stallion. Chalk looked so mature all of a sudden it made her heart leap,

“It will,” he said gently, “and I’ll be here for you when you need me.”

The red mare blinked slowly, kissing the unicorn before her softly on the muzzle and pulled him into her as she closed her eyes breathlessly,

“You’d better be.”

***********************

Standing on the quarterdeck, Gretel could sense eagerness from the Revenge. The ship was readying to enter the water, her bow lifting as she prepared herself for the connection. Mister Haggis’s attention was fully focussed and Gretel could sense the answering concentration from the ship following his guidance.

“Brace for water landing!” Salty called out, and moments later the ship kissed the waters surface, quickly losing forward momentum as the water sucked at her hull. It was a strange feeling - the sudden transition from…’nothing’, to the pull of the world below. Gretel smiled to herself; it had a kind of magic all of its own. She listened to the water rolling past the hull, the sound of birds and the smell of the land carried to her on the breeze. The Revenge was happy here, she liked birdsong and the calm waters of the river. It was relaxed her and, by association, her Captain. Gretel smiled to herself but kept her senses keen; she couldn’t allow herself to feel too relaxed - Drakestown could be a hotbed of Legion troops for all she knew. For now at least, they’d play the part of regular traders and see what was what.

An hour of idyllic landscape slipped past until the first signs of life were seen: chimney smoke, rising lazily from outlying farmsteads in the distance, and a few ponies tending to their fields. Looking through her telescope, Gretel scanned the area for any sign of threat, but everything seemed quite normal, “You know this place, don’t you Chalky?”

“Aye,” the white unicorn replied, “Bracken and I met some damned good ponies the last time we were here.”

“Any trouble?” she asked.

Chalk laughed, “Ha! Yeah, when the Legion stuck a poster up there was a riot. We decided to get the hell out of there before we became mixed up in it.”

“Looks quiet now.” Gretel said, lowering the telescope, “I can’t see any sign of any property damage.”

Chalk shrugged, “Very civilised rioters I suspect,” he chuckled, “they probably sent apology letters and tidied up after themselves.”

Gretel gave him a playful shove, “I can imagine you doing that somehow.”

“Huh! You didn’t see us in the Full Moon”

“Just as bloody well!” The red mare said irritably, “If I’d been there I would have knocked your bloody heads together.” She leaned over the balustrade, “Take us into dock, Mister Haggis. Mister Salty, when we’re tied up, I want a shore party readied.”

The brown and cream stallion, touched a hoof to his forelock,

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

Gretel turned suddenly, “What was that?”

Chalky looked up innocently, “Hmm?”

“You said something, sounded like…’Argh’.”

“Did I?” he replied wide eyed, “Nah, must have been the wind.”

Gretel clucked her tongue, “Mmm! I’m sure it was!”

The dock was larger than expected, apparently designed for ocean going vessels and a group of ponies quickly appeared calling instructions up to the deck crew as the lines were thrown out and the ship made secure at the dockside. Chalk could see Bracken on the forecastle, he was shouting down to somepony on the dock, although with all the other noise and bustle on deck he couldn’t hear what was being said. From below, the General appeared wearing a simple travelling cloak along with another mare, the red coated Major Wild. Chalk had a double take, staring at her, then to Gretel, then back again.

“What?” Gretel asked.

Chalk smiled nervously, “Um…nothing.”

Gretel leaned in, her voice a bare whisper, “I know what you’re thinking, mister, and she looks nothing like me.”

“Can’t mess with a classic, eh?” Chalk whispered back cheekily.

Gretel winked at him, “Not if you don’t want your arse tanned later, no.”

Chalk’s huge grin received a look of exasperation from the Captain as she trotted down to join the officers by the gangplank.

General Dray stretched his legs and gave his mane a good shake before waving down to a familiar bronze pony on the dock who waved enthusiastically back.

“Hey!” Chalk shouted excitedly, “It’s Gal!”

Bracken walked over, a grin across his face, “Guess we’d better get him that drink this time then.”

“You two know him?” Dray asked curiously.

Chalk nodded happily, “Yeah, him and his boys saved my life after I’d been half eaten by pixies.”

“By WHAT?!” Dray asked in surprise. He looked at Bracken who shrugged and nodded,

“Believe or not, aye, it’s true.”

Dray stared at Chalk who grinned at him expansively, “What can I say? I’m just so delicious.”

The General snorted a laugh and gestured to the Captain,

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to Captain, but you’d be most welcome.”

“Thank you Dray,” Gretel smiled, “I’ll take you up on that. I’ve never been here before, so if nothing else, it will help broaden my horizons.” She looked behind her, “No Celestia?”

“No.” Dray said quietly, “As far as anypony is concerned, we don’t want her seen or talked about. There could be Legion here, maybe spies or agents - we just don’t know.”

“The proverbial rabbit is staying in the hat then, eh?” Gretel replied.

The General nodded, “Exactly.”

On the dockside, the bronze stallion, Galliard, or ‘Gal’ as he preferred, was overjoyed to see not only Dray, but Chalk and Bracken. The four of them were soon walking along chatting like old friends, with Gretel and Wild bringing up the rear.

“It’s a small world alright,” the Major said absently, “you could walk halfway across Equestria, maybe even across the ocean, and still bump into some bugger you know.”

Gretel sniffed, “You got that right.”

“Can I ask you something?” Wild asked quietly.

“Depends what it is,” The Captain shrugged, “but go ahead. I will if I can.”

Wild smiled, “Don’t you think it’s a bit funny, you know…with a unicorn?” She scratched her ear before continuing, “They seem a bit fragile to me. I’d be afraid of breaking him.”

Gretel laughed, “I thought so too at first, but they’re a lot more resilient than you might think.”

“Hmm,” Wild pondered, “think I’ll stick with earth ponies. I like them a bit meatier, myself.”

“What about a pegasus?”

Wild barked out a laugh, “Now one of them I would definitely break!”

“Wild?” Gretel asked.

“’Heather’, please.”

The Captain nodded, “Sure, Heather, are you and, um, Dray…you know…dating?”

“Ha! Dating?” Wild suddenly flushed, “No, I don’t think he’d ever do something like that.” She shook her head, “Shame really, he’s a good looking stallion.”

“Have you thought of making a move on him?” Gretel asked, casting a quick glance at the grey stallion up front.

“Me?!” Wild snorted, “No…well, I may have ‘thought’ about it, but he is, or rather was, married.”

“Was?”

The Major kept her voice down as she spoke, “His whole family were murdered by Lord Ochre’s ponies. He came home and found them just after it had happened. It was only by the grace of the Goddesses he wasn’t there himself.”

Gretel heart skipped a beat, “Oh goddess…”

“Yeah…” Wild said quietly, “I don’t think he’ll ever get over what he saw. It…changed him, inside.”

“Bloody hell, it’s no wonder. That would change anypony.” Gretel breathed.

Up ahead, the party had turned a corner and were heading towards a warehouse along the waterfront. Gretel instinctively checked her sword was free in its scabbard, noting that the Major too, wasn’t taking anything for granted as her ears perked up and her eyes looked around for any signs of danger.

Other than the shaft of daylight spilling in through the open doorway, the rest of the interior of the warehouse was in near complete darkness. The bronze pony trotted off into the gloom while the rest of them waited. Gretel could feel her blood rushing in her ears, her hoof twitching towards her sword while she kept half an eye on the doorway in case they needed to make a quick getaway. Up ahead, the bronze fellow, ‘Gal’, was already returning and was soon muttering something to the General. The grey stallion nodded in reply and then trotted off, leaving the rest of them waiting. Gretel glanced at Wild but she was completely focussed on Dray. A few minutes later, the floor began to rumble as dozens of shadows seemed to detach themselves from the back of the warehouse, moving steadily towards them. Quickly stepped back, the Captain checked to see where Chalk was - he was close. The white unicorn had pulled his friend back to flank the open door, no doubt checking to see if there was somepony outside waiting to slam the door and lock them in. She narrowed her eyes, steadying herself.

“Gretel…” It was Wild, “It’s alright, they’re friends.”

The Captain didn’t share her confidence. She’d been ambushed before - those scum from Aeon’s crew on the island for one, but she trusted Heather and allowed herself to relax slightly. There was a discussion going on nearby, one that included the bronze pony as well as Dray and…somepony in silver armour - an officer?

Gretel tossed her mane; the tension in here was unbearable! Good Goddess, why had she agreed to come along? She should have gone straight to the tavern and had scout about for any good trading deals, but no, here she was in a dark warehouse with a bunch of armed ponies…days just didn’t get better than this…

Dray clopped his hooves together, drawing everponies attention,

“Everypony, this is Colonel Golden Spoon, she’ll be joining us.”

The Captain gasped. The mare striding towards them was…incredible! She was tall, elegant almost and with the most magnificent armour of burnished gold and silver. Her alabaster coat, deep blue mane and tail, not to mention those striking turquoise eyes, would likely turn many a pony’s knees to jelly. Gretel couldn’t help but feel a shock of jealousy burn its way through her and she glanced back at Chalk, but he was too busy watching the road outside to notice…thankfully.

“Ah, Wild, good to see you again girl.” The Colonel shook hooves with the Major, smiling broadly, “And who else to we have here?”

Gretel suddenly realised the middle aged mare was looking at her,

“I’m…um…Gretel, Captain of the King Sombra’s Revenge, ma’am.”

“HA!” the mare laughed, “I like the name! I like it a lot!” she leaned forward and lifted an eyebrow, smiling, “And its either ‘Colonel’ or ‘Golden’, no ‘ma’am’…” she chuckled, “Makes me feel old y’know.”

The rather eccentric sounding mare flicked her mane and went around introducing herself, although for the most part it was clear she knew Dray and his ponies already.

Colonel Spoon stomped a hoof, a broad smile on her face, “Well, I don’t know about you boys and girls, but my merry band and I are ready when you are.”

Dray turned to the bronze stallion, “Gal?”

“We’re ready, Dray,” he nodded to the General, “my boys have blocked off the route down to my riverboat and we’re losing the light, so we should be good to go anytime now.”

Gretel looked outside. The fellow was right; the sun was indeed beginning to dip already. By the Goddess, this time of year was bloody miserable. Sure, it had a certain charm of its own, but standing on deck in the biting cold and having to navigate in darkness, was something she would be glad to see the back of. She pondered that coat again, the one the peculiar trader had tried to sell her…one hundred percent genuine yak…

Time passed by surprisingly quickly. The Colonel was spending most of her time discussing matters with General Dray and Major Wild, while there was the occasional cursory nod to Gretel but little more. She was beginning to form the distinct impression that the ‘guards’ pony as she’d heard one of them call Golden Spoon, was a bit of high flier in pony circles, and that made her feel a little…well, ‘course’ really. Golden lived in a very different world from her own, probably one full of china cups, cream teas and jolly hockey sticks - the sort of place that Amy would fit right into. ‘High bloody society snobs’, Gretel fumed inwardly, muttering under her breath. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she hadn’t been so damned attractive! But thank the Goddess that Chalk didn’t seem particularly bothered by it. Still, she was sure she’d caught him steeling the odd glance…she’d have to find out…

“Chalky?”

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just keeping a look out.” He said quietly, keeping his eyes on the road, “Major Wild said they’ve got pegasi watching the area for any Legion but I’d rather be sure, you know?”

Gretel sighed, “Yeah.”

Chalk looked back at her, “Are you alright? You seem…distracted.”

“No!” Gretel squeaked, clearing her throat noisily, “No…I’m fine…really…”

“Hmm…” Chalk moved closer, making her take a step back as she nearly jumped. “Gretel, what’s up? Something’s bothering you, I can tell.”

“I…No, honestly Chalky, I’m just being silly.” The red mare lowered her head and tried to peek surreptitiously at Colonel Spoon, but it was hard to do it without making it obvious. “Um…have you ever met the Colonel?” Gretel said suddenly, “She seem’s…nice.”

“Uh-huh.” Chalk shrugged, “I’ve seen her before, but not to speak to. Royal Guard, especially officers, don’t mix with the rankers like me and Brack.”

“Oh…” Gretel hated herself for this, but it really starting to bother her, “Chalky, you…you don’t think I’m…a bit ‘common’, do you?”

Chalk’s eyes went wide, “You’re…what?” he suddenly laughed, “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Shhh!” Gretel waved her hoof urgently, “Shut up! I don’t….look, oh…forget it!”

A hoof reached out and caught her round the neck,

“Upper class twits don’t hold a candle to my beautiful adventurous Captain.” Chalk smiled, “I know who I’d choose everytime…Cap’n”

Gretel chuckled and whispered in his ear,

“Arrrgh.”

“I knew it! I bloody well knew it!” Chalk made a sound like he was trying to shout and whisper all at the same time, the resulting strangled noise had the nearby Bracken rolling his eyes in despair.

Gretel turned to walk away but Chalk gave her a quick nudge,

“Cap’n?”

“Yeah?”

Chalk’s grin was infectious, “I’d definitely go with the plaits.”

Shaking her head, Gretel walked back to the others with the ghost of a smile on her face. So, she hadn’t been dreaming that after all eh? Right…

“Captain Gretel, this is Galliard,” Dray held out a hoof, indicating the bronze stallion she’d seen earlier, “he’s the owner of the riverboat I mentioned and dock master now I believe?”

The bronze pony laughed, “Only because everypony else has buggered off.” He extended a hoof, “Call me Gal, Captain Gretel. I believe you are well acquainted with the two miscreants by the door?”

Gretel snorted, “Unfortunately…” She shook Galliard’s hoof, “Pleasure to meet you Gal.”

Dray nodded, “Captain, as agreed, we’ll need the Revenge up front and Gal’s riverboat, the Fairlady, will follow towing the barges.”

“We’ll be ready General,” Gretel replied, “just have your ponies do what they do best.”

He nodded and turned to face Colonel Spoon who had walked up,

“We’ll set off as soon as you’re ready, Colonel”

“My boys and girls are always ready, Dray.” The enigmatic white mare smiled.

Gretel stared in wonder at the huge number of ponies behind the Colonel. Most of them were earth ponies and unicorns, but there were a few pegasi too. All of them were muscular, lean creatures who up until a few minutes ago had…hang on…was she imagining things? She stared at them, turning to Major Wild, her voice low so only she could hear her,

“Heather?”

“Hmm?”

“Those soldiers, they were white a while ago weren’t they? The earth ponies that is. The unicorns were all grey too.” Gretel shook her head in puzzlement, “Please tell me I’m not going mad here.”

Wild chuckled to her herself, “You didn’t know? Royal Guard armour’s enchanted to make them all look ‘uniform’.”

“Ha! I bloody knew it!” Gretel sniffed loudly, “Bloody posers!”

“They’re all battle hardened troops actually.” Wild replied, “But, yeah, I see where you’re coming from. They were only ever meant to be ceremonial but the Colonel’s kept them training, and thank the Goddesses she did. They certainly saved our sorry hides at River Valley.”

“Oh…” Gretel facehoofed, “Well I feel great now…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Heather said clopping her on the shoulder, “they had a lot of us fooled too, not to mention the Legion.”

“Glad they’re on our side though.” Gretel said watching them checking each others kit and packs were secured.

Apparently the idea was that the soldiers would move to the ship, riverboat, and barges, posing as refugees - if by chance anypony asked. The fact they all looked like regular ponies, albeit muscular ones, would certainly be a lot less conspicuous than a formation of all white and grey armoured warriors. Last to take her armour off was Colonel Spoon herself. Gretel watched with a sly smirk on her face, waiting for the eccentric mare to reveal her less than flattering colours.

Piece by piece, the Colonel quickly divested herself of the gold and silver filigree plates and stowed them with the help of her aide de camp. The Captain waited, watching…

“Any second now…”

“Er, Gretel?” Wild whispered.

“What?”

“What are you expecting to happen?”

The Captain nodded towards the middle aged mare who was insisting on carrying her own armour and weapons. Her cutie mark, a small golden runcible spoon on her flank was quite striking against her white fur,

“I want to see what happens when she changes too.”

The white mare trotted past her, her blue mane bouncing as she headed towards the door, “Off we go you lot, come along.” She turned to Gretel, “All set, Captain Gretel? Anchors away as you seafaring types would say, eh?”

Her pristine white teeth flashing with her broad smile and her turquoise eyes sparkling, the Colonel trotted out of the door with some of the others. Gretel watched intently.

“Um, Gretel?” Wild said quietly, “You do know that’s the Colonel’s natural colour, don’t you?”

“Wh…what?!” Gretel squeaked, “It can’t be! She’s…she’s…”

“Beautiful?” Heather took a deep breath, watching the senior guards officer chivvying her ponies out, “I know…believe me Gretel, I know.”

Chapter Thirty Eight - The True Nature of Power

CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

THE TRUE NATURE OF POWER

“It’s a fairly modest request isn’t it Chancellor?” The bored looking stallion slouching across the throne raised an eyebrow, “Tell them to pay the taxes by the due date or move them out and sell their property. It’s not exactly a difficult concept to understand is it?”

The magenta mare standing at foot of the steps licked her lips nervously and adjusted her spectacles,

“Um…My Lord, the Mayor has been resident in the…um, manor for many years and…”

“I don’t give a flying buck about that!” Ochre snapped angrily, “You get that overstuffed arse out of there if he doesn’t damn well pay up what he owes. Do…Your...Job…” He glared down at the frightened mare, “Was there more?” he asked in a sarcastic tone.

“M…My Lord, the Goddess has requested th…that you s…send…send…”

“Oh for…!” Ochre stood up and bellowed down the long room, “GUARDS!”

Almost immediately, a silver armoured warrior appeared, drawing up alongside the quaking Chancellor. Lord Ochre waved his hoof,

“Take that useless offal from my sight and bring me that scroll will you?”

The soldier saluted and began lifting the terrified mare.

“Oh...! For the Goddesses’ sake !” Ochre waved his hooves up in exaggerated horror, “What are you, a bloody animal?”

A dark puddle of urine had flowed from the Chancellor and was quickly soaking into the carpet around her hooves as tears poured down her cheeks.

“Get some cleaners in here will you?” Ochre called, “And guards? See if the Chancellor can regain her composure with a few lashes.” He tapped his hoof on his chin, “About twenty should do the trick.”

The Chancellor howled as she was carried bodily from the room to be rapidly replaced by two maids sporting buckets, sponges and mops. Ochre spat angrily - he just couldn’t get any decent help anymore. All the more efficient and intelligent ponies had run off like the cowards they were long ago, and yet he alone had stayed…him, the Lord of Equestria. He snorted loudly, snatching a cup of wine from his attendant. It was bloody ridiculous! That useless puppet Celestia had gone, her ungodly sibling and her freakish nightmares were now the new power in the land, so what in the world did ponies do? Did they accept the new regime? Did they even attempt to work with him to help rebuild a new Equestria? No! They’d damned well headed for the hills at the first sign of any ‘difficulty’ like whipped dogs. Sure, he’d had to ‘discipline’ a few of them, that was to be expected, but they had to learn…they had to learn. He nodded to himself; his father would have been proud of him, so…so proud. Ochre took the scroll from one of the guards and read it aloud to himself,

“Right then, lets see…” he cleared his throat, “Her most divine blah, blah, blah, taxes, troops, executions and…oh! Crucifixions? Interesting…blah, blah….” He paused, reading it again…

“She wants what?!” he threw the scroll down the stairs in a fury, “GET ME THE GUARD COMMANDER!”

One of the guards bowed and hurried out.

Ochre shook his head in disbelief. She was mad…that was it, stark staring mad. She…she wanted over half…HALF of his troops, HIS troops to go on some bloody stupid ‘mission’ to the arse end of nowhere and leave him damned near defenceless! She was trying to kill him, that was it, she was trying to weaken him so some foul little snake of an assassin could sneak in and kill him when he was asleep…that sick evil bitch! He’d have to think of some plan, a clever way of removing her before she could realise her scheme. Her type were all the same - pretending to be something they weren’t rather than the weak, pathetic scrap of an equine they clearly were. Years of selective and intelligent breeding had resulted in him, a true thoroughbred unicorn: clever, swift and powerful, a real leader for a brighter tomorrow. He nodded to himself, smiling…yes…YES! What a brilliant idea! He’d have pictures, no…posters, yes, posters of himself put up around Equestria right up to the frozen wastes of the north. A picture of him, the one they could all look up to, and the legend…’A REAL LEADER FOR A BRIGHTER TOMORROW’. By the Goddesses…that was it! He laughed aloud and tossed his mane,

“Get me the Royal Artist!” he called out, hopping from one hoof to another in excitement.

One of the guards trotted to the door, urgently speaking to another. With a nod, he returned,

“Lord Ochre, the Royal Artist was executed last week for treason.”

“Well?” The Lord said rolling his eyes, “Get me another one!”

“Yes, My Lord.”

By all the gods of the eternal herd, did he have to do everything around here?! Useless bloody drones! He takes one treasonous rabble rouser away and puts another, non-treasonous one in its place…simple! But did they do it? Noooo, of course not! No, he had to do it him-bloody-self yet again! Still, give the guard his due, he looked the sort who would do his duty and find a good artist shortly. And…if for some unfathomable reason he didn’t, well…he’d be removed and replaced with another too. It took no time at all to train these numb headed muscle brained louts, but they had their place, even if they were little more than a wall to protect him from the foul scum that lapped at his hooves from time to time. Come to think of it…

“Where in the name of all that’s holy is that blasted Guard Commander?”

One of the guards called back, “He’s…My Lord, my pardon, there’s a messenger here to see you.”

“Oh, come one, come all!” Ochre groaned loudly, “What in Equestria is it now?”

A young soldier dressed in his houses livery, hurried in and bowed low. ‘Fitting’ Ochre thought to himself offhoofedly, the proles should know their place - it would be better for them really, they’d be happier that way. It was rather like dogs with regular feeding times - you just had to show them who was in charge and allow them scraps from time to time. This young one would learn that over time, as he should.

Ochre raised an eyebrow, “Well?”

“My Lord,” The young soldier began respectfully, “we have had a report from one of our informants that her Divine Majesty is gathering troops and moving them towards the northeast. Initial rumours are that they’re looking for…”

“-Yes?” Ochre cut in angrily, “Out with is pony!”

“Yes, My Lord.” The stallion cleared his throat, “They’re looking for Celestia.”

“They’re WHAT?!” Lord Ochre barked, “Are they mad? She’s gone!” He let out a loud sigh, “Chasing rainbows, chasing shadows…memories of dust and stone…”

The soldier looked up in surprise, “My Lord?”

Ochre sighed, “Anything else? Anything actually interesting or important?”

The soldier bowed again, “No, My Lord, that was the only news we had from the pegasi network.”

“Pah! ‘Network’ my hoof! Bunch of useless winged freaks, all of them.” Ochre gave a ironic laugh, “You can go now, soldier.” He lifted a hoof, “go on, shoo! Shoo!”

Bowing repeatedly, the soldier backed up several steps before turning and hurrying out. At least he hadn’t pissed himself, Ochre thought snidely. He climbed back to his seat and dumped himself into it, throwing his hind legs over the arm. Idly he held out a forehoof and a goblet of wine appeared which he levitated over to his mouth to sip at. Celestia, eh? Celestia, Celestia, Celestia…Was she alive? Possibly…he jumped up,

“Be you alive or be you dead, alicorn stew and piece of bread.” Ochre mused, chuckling to himself. He like that one, he’d have to write it down. Anyway, he had nothing to worry about really, that ‘Nightmare Moon’ thing could deal with any loose ends, and if not…he smiled knowingly to himself - he had a very nice collection of tasteless concoctions that would send any ‘interference’ quickly to the afterlife. Yes, that would do it. He yawned. Good Goddesses it was boring here…

“You there, attendant,” he held up a hoof beckoning the young mare nearer, “Who’s on tonight’s list?”

The mare bowed, “Lady High Wicker, widow of the late Sir Trite Wicker of…”

“-Yes, yes, I’m not interested in all that nonsense.” Ochre cut in impatiently, “Where is she?”

“Waiting outside I believe, My Lord.”

Ochre clopped his hoof on the side of the throne,

“Well send her in girl! Send her in!”

A minute or two later, the doors to the throne room opened and a pastel pink mare with a cream and red mane walked in, her pale blue eyes partially covered by the large veil she wore beneath a wide brimmed black hat. Her matching black dress was similarly voluminous, but she had a particular sway to her walk that drew Ochre’s gaze. He drank her in, imagining himself indulging in her…

“My Lord?”

“Ah, yes, Lady Wicker, wasn’t it?” Ochre asked pleasantly.

The mare bobbed her head, “Yes, My Lord.”

“Yes…” Ochre’s smile spread across his face, never reaching his eyes, “my condolences on your recent loss, my dear.”

“Thank you My Lord.”

“Indeed.” He began walking down the steps towards her, noting how she stood up tall, straight and noble, as a nobly born mare should. He walked past her, taking in her scent…lilac…delicious…

“You summoned me, My Lord?” Lady Wicker asked.

“I did.”

Lady Wicker kept silent, her breathing increasing in tempo while his remained steady. She did her best to keep her mind blank and simply reply to Ochre’s questions politely and plainly, but it was all too clear that he was the one in control here…and he knew it. Suddenly she took an involuntary gasp of air as something brushed past her tail making her freeze. She could feel the unicorn stallion’s breath upon her,

“Such a fine lady as yourself shouldn’t need to hide her beauty, my dear. It’s such a shame…such a shame.” Ochre ran his hoof lightly across her flank and up towards her neck, lifting her mane, “So fragrant.” He purred, “You really do smell divine.”

Licking her dry lips, Lady Wicker took a shaky breath,

“Thank you My Lord.”

Ochre reached up and lifted her veil, “And such beautiful eyes, too!” He chuckled mirthlessly, “Are you trying to hide from me, my dear?”

“No, My Lord.”

“’No My Lord’”, the dark blue stallion scoffed, “So obedient…are you obedient, Lady Ochre?”

The mare blinked, unsure of what he meant by his question,

“My Lord?”

“Oh, Lady Wicker, I do so hate repeating myself…” Ochre rolled his eyes, his hoof reaching under her chin, “I said…’are you obedient’?”

Lady Wicker swallowed, a small bead of sweat appearing on her brow,

“Yes, My Lord,”

“Good…good…” Ochre smiled, waving to his attendant who quickly brought over a chair for her master. Lowering himself into it he leaned back, his eyes fixed on the pink mare, “Take them off.”

“M…My Lord?”

“Your clothes,” he repeated, clucking his tongue, “take them off I say. Now.”

The pink mare took a step back in shock, her voice cracking slightly, revealing the chinks in her armour that Ochre knew he would find sooner or later, and use to his advantage. He would get what he wanted…he always did.

Lady Wicker was desperately trying to regain her composure, an act that only excited the unicorn as he sat watching her intently. Ochre raised an eyebrow, amused at her laughable attempts at dissuading him from his intended course - but he could be generous, he would grant her the honour of his listening to her,

“Lord Ochre,” she began, “I demand that you cease teasing me like this! I am still in mourning for my…”

“-I know that, Lady Wicker,” Ochre smiled, waving his hoof nonchalantly, “I also know you have two sons and a daughter staying with friends at present rather than at home in your rather, shall we say, extensive property. I have to say, it must be very difficult to run such a large estate without any proper help.”

Lady Wicker took a breath, “I have staff.”

“Of course, of course…” Ochre nodded, “But you see, these are difficult times my dear, very difficult indeed, and the Goddess, her most Divine Majesty, has requested I send troops north and you know how the Legion view Equestrians, don’t you?”

Lady Wicker closed her eyes. She did, they all did. They’d heard the stories, the dreadful nightmare that the Legion had brought upon them. She didn’t want her children to…Oh, Celestia! Her children!

“Oh don’t look so worried, Lady Wicker! Your children are perfectly safe!” Lord Ochre beamed, “You have my word on that! I mean, after all, you have pledged your allegiance to me, haven’t you?”

“Y…Yes, My Lord.” Lady Wicker stammered.

Ochre nodded, clopping his hooves together happily, “Excellent! You see? Everything is as it should be. It’s important for my subjects to be understanding of the difficulties a stallion in my position must face and overcome, and naturally, I do all that I can to serve and protect my people. All that I ask for in return is for understanding…and obedience. You did say that you were…obedient, didn’t you Lady Wicker? I mean, I didn’t mishear what you said, did I?”

The pink mare’s voice was a bare whisper,

“No…lord Ochre.”

“Splendid” he grinned, holding out a hoof, “Please, continue…”

Ochre watched, his eyes never missing a movement, not a single twitch of her eye nor flick of her ear as the mare removed her hat and placed it beside her.

“Now the dress” He said quietly.

Lady Wicker closed her eyes and tried to steady her nerves. Her hooves were shaking and she knew that vile creature was enjoying this; he was taking som perverse pleasure in humiliating her. She took a steadying breath and gritted her teeth – she wouldn’t give this low life the satisfaction of seeing her rattled. Pausing, she gathered her resolve and unbuttoned the dress, letting it fall to the floor revealing the mare beneath.

Ochre’s face was a featureless as stone,

“Now, turn around, slowly.”

She did so.

“Good…yes, you will do very nicely…” he said calmly.

“Lord Ochre?”

The stallion rose from seat and clopped his hooves together. Quickly, two maids appeared and took up positions flanking the surprised looking mare.

“Take her away,” he said casually, “give her usual and have her ready in my bedchamber within the hour.”

Lady Wicker’s eyes went wind in shock, “M…My Lord! What…?”

“Obedience, Lady Wicker, remember?” Ochre lifted his hoof to his mouth, calling out to her as she was rapidly ushered out of the door, “OBEDIENCE!”

He stretched his legs and took a mouthful of his wine. It was a shame the mare had been defiled by that old sluggard ‘Lord’ Wicker - a drunken old soak if ever there’d been one. His children could be a problem at some point, but they were being watched closely. If Lady Wicker didn’t ‘perform’ tonight, he would simply have them erased. He grinned menacingly…like her damned husband had been.

***************************

Turtle Neck leaned on the rampart looking out at the pitch black landscape before him. It was pointlessless really, you couldn’t see a damned thing out here. Not that it really mattered anyway, the war was over after all. Luna, or rather ‘Nightmare Moon’ as she was rather enigmatically calling herself these days, had won and Equestria was at peace once more. You could be forgiven of course, for wondering why there were still bands of thestrals and other ‘things’ the Princess, sorry…’Goddess’, for bucks sake, had allowed to wander around, but it was surprising what you could get used to. Take for example the fact that their employer, Lord Ochre, was an absolute cock. That guy would have anypony killed that looked at him crosswise, or if he simply didn’t like the look of them. Still, he paid well, and that was what was really important. Turtle smiled to himself. Once he’d squeezed as much as he could out of the overstuffed prick he’d take that job offer with the Llamalian Trade Organisation. There was yet another big war brewing between Llamalia and Yakistan, meaning rich pickings for the astute mercenary. He was still young, fit, and if he played his cards right, landing a position with a rich and hopefully paranoid Llamalian trader would line his pockets with enough gold that he could swim in the damned stuff.

He stretched, “Hey, Rough Track, you got any smokes on you?”

Turtle looked along the rampart but there was no sign of his colleague. Huh! The lazy sod had probably sloped off for a quick snooze. He couldn’t blame him though, this part of a guardspony’s work was the worst, and boredom was your only real constant companion. That said it wasn’t actually that bad when you considered the fact you were getting paid for bugger all. Now then, if they’d been at war still, things may have been different altogether, so he couldn’t complain. He yawned and reached round for his pannier - there should be a flask of mead in there somewhere. Stretching back, he felt something catch his foreleg,

“Wha…?”

The cold, hard edge of a blade pressed against his throat and he froze.

“Who do you serve?” the voice by his ear whispered.

Good Goddesses, he couldn’t move! He was frightened to breath, to move even a muscle. Whoever this was, he hadn’t heard a thing, nor seen anything either. He tried to look up, but all he could see was the slumped figure of…of no…Rough Track. Turtle blinked his eyes, his mind racing. Taking a shallow breath he tried not to move his throat into that blade,

“Equestria” he whispered, praying it would be enough.

The blade moved away a fraction, “Make a sound, make any sudden moves…” hooves and teeth removed his sword and dagger, “And you’ll breath your last…for Equestria. Do you understand, soldier?”

“Y…yes ma’am” Turtle gasped.

“Now, you are going to come with me, and we’re going to have a nice little chat.”

Abruptly, Turtle had a rag shoved in his mouth and he was bundled down the stairs. At least they hadn’t blindfolded him so he could walk down them safely. Maybe if he kept his cool, answered their questions and did what he was told, they’d let go? Goddesses, he hoped so.

They walked through to the gatehouse and there, a number of ponies wearing cloaks with armour underneath were stood watching over several bound and gagged ponies; the gate guards. They hadn’t noticed him coming in, they were all too busy staring at the floor dejectedly. Turtle was pushed into a side room where he was manoeuvred into a chair and found himself face to face with a large red earth pony mare. She watched him for a moment, appraising him, and then spoke,

“What’s your name?”

“Um…Turtle Neck.” He replied.

“Right then Turtle Neck,” the mare said levelly, “I want you to listen carefully. I need you to tell me where the thestral’s are located in the capital. She pushed a map across the table, “Here.”

Quickly, he marked out the locations where the thestrals’ barracks where situated. In reality they were little more than converted warehouses or large houses where the occupants had been ‘removed’ by Lord Ochre. He leaned back in the chair,

“That’s all of them, as far as I know anyway.” He licked his lips nervously, “You…you are going to let me go, right? I mean, I’ve shown you what I know.”

The red mare raised an eyebrow,

“Let me ask you one more question, Turtle Neck,” the mare smiled, “what do you think about Nightmare Moon and Lord Ochre?”

*********************************

Dray and his ponies raced through the cobbled streets, their hooves covered in tarred sacking to give them grip and to help silence their movements. They worked remarkably well - he’d have to remember to thank Gal once they’d completed their mission. The teams were fanned out, moving to the locations provided by the pegasi scouts and by the guards they’d captured. So far their progress had been remarkable, helped to no end by the fact that the streets were all but deserted and nopony was apparently even bothering to light the street lamps now. It was a shame, such a crying shame what had happened to the capital of Equestria - the castle of the two Princesses…

He reached a corner marked on his map and watched for any movement. Other than for his breathing, there wasn’t any sign of…Damn it!

Thestrals - three of them.

Dray waved the others beside him to take position and waited. These things had remarkable eyesight, but their hearing was fairly average from what little he knew about them. Celestia’s hairy arse, he hoped he right and they couldn’t hear his heart beating - it sounded like a bloody bass drum! He held his sword in his teeth and waited, listening, judging…they were getting closer, so, so close. The hoofsteps stopped, the occasional snort and creak of leather indicating that the dark coated creatures where only a few yards away. Dray held his breath.

The hoofsteps started again. Moments later the moon came out from behind a passing cloud, the wan light picking out the armoured warriors as they entered the street and turned to head up the main thoroughfare. And then one of them stopped. The creature lifted its head, scenting the air curiously. The thestral’s eyes, red as burning campfires in the night, flared brightly as it bared its teeth…it was looking right at Dray.

In less than a heartbeat, the thestral fell before it had time to draw breath, the heavy crossbow bolt entering its unarmoured throat and exiting the back, sending the creature to the ground in a kicking and choking sprawl. The other two drew their axes but were similarly silenced, their bodies collected and dragged into a side alley still twitching. A swift thrust of a dagger sent them to be with their eternal Goddess…’or whatever these things believed in’, Dray thought to himself bitterly. He nodded to the others and they were off again. The General checked his watch to ensure they were on schedule; timing was crucial in any operation but there always had to be contingencies…always. Sooner or later that patrol would be missed and their comrades alerted. Dray wasn’t certain about the patrol patterns in the capital, and it had been a fly in the ointment as far as his plans had been concerned from the beginning. The canny beasts alternated their routes and the times of their patrols regularly. He was impressed: even in ‘peacetime’ the thestrals were ready for war.

The clock was ticking - ten minutes - that was all they had before the rest moved into position for the next phase of the operation.

His Sergeant moved up beside him, keeping low,

“Sir, inner wall gate’s ahead, but they’ve got pony guards mixed in with thestrals here. Your orders?”

“It can’t be helped, Sergeant.” Dray shook his head, “If one of them raises the alarm they’ll be all over us.” He narrowed his eyes, staring up at the gate, “Take them.”

“Yes sir.”

It was over in seconds. Flanking shots took the guards down with barely a sound other than the metallic clatter of armoured bodies collapsing in a heap on the cobbles. Swiftly and efficiently, the team moved in, checking for movement, covering each other with their rapidly reloaded crossbows. The castle proper was not far now, just…

“Here’s the tea boys! Some buggers eaten all the bisc…” the guard fell back, slipping off the dagger of the pony in front of him, the crockery crashing to the ground. They all held their breath and sank back into the shadows, but there was no more sound than the gasps of the dying guard and the soldier standing above him. The stallions pained eyes looked up, his voice fading,

“W…why? Why?”

The soldier leaned down and lifted his head gently,

“I’m sorry brother…forgive me…”

The guard gave a final shudder and went limp, his last breath in this world curling up into the night as the light left his eyes. The soldier wiped his dagged and sheathed it, his head hanging and ears drooping,

“I’m sorry.”

One of the older hooves clopped him on the shoulder, “You had to do it Mist. Come on, let’s stop this madness so we can save our home. Okay?”

The pony gave himself a shake, “Y…yeah, sure Needles, let’s get this crap over with.”

“Let’s move people!” Dray hissed, and together, the cloaked warriors slipped like ghosts through the shadowed and empty streets to the castle.

******************************

“Well that was uninspiring,” Ochre moaned, stretching his legs, “I have to say you were about as enthralling as a brick my dear.”

The bundled mound on the bed shook quietly, the occasional sniff from her making the stallion roll his eyes,

“Oh do be quiet will you? It’s not like you’ve lost anything, I mean for the Goddesses sake, you’ve had how many children?” he began brushing his long snow white mane, “You should consider yourself honoured I would lower myself to your level to even think of touching you, let alone….” He sighed, “Look, just get dressed and get out.”

“You…you’re a monster…” the mare said quietly, “How can you do these things?…How?”

“How?” Ochre looked back at her in surprise, “You think that Celestia didn’t indulge with her subjects? Of course she did! Good Goddesses, mare, that stupid old harridan was having herself ploughed on a nightly basis! Everypony knew it!”

“They did not!” Lady Wicker snapped, “She…she wouldn’t do that! She wouldn’t!”

Ochre laughed, levitating up his wine and taking a mouthful, “You think she’s pure? The virgin bloody queen or something? Don’t be so damnably naive, mare.” He trotted to the door and opened it, “Now, as I said, get out. MOVE! Before I have you flogged through the streets you stupid ignorant bitch!”

The mare stood unmoving, her eyes going wide as saucers. Ochre face hoofed - Luna’s ample rump she was dim. He’d have to have a purge on the upper classes as some point, perhaps appoint some ‘new blood’, ones that did as they were told and weren’t so damnably thick! Well, there was nothing for it, he’d have to have flogged now - she’d brought it upon herself. He turned to the door to summon the guard,

“Guards! Get your lazy arses in here and…”

The crossbows covering him made him freeze as Ochre found himself standing face to face with a large dark grey coated stallion, the male’s large yellow eyes boring into him with a look of utter contempt. Ochre blinked in surprise. He looked familiar somehow; even that common carthorse like monotone mane he’d seen before somewhere. His nose wrinkled; the vile creature stank too - the smell of sweat, the fields, and the Goddesses knew what else…foul…

“Hello…’Ochre’.” It said with a snarling grin.

The Lord or Equestria stood back, “Who…who the hell are you?” he took a breath, “Guards! GUARDS!”

“Wasting your breath, I’m afraid,” the grey pony said, his scarred face becoming clearer in the rooms lamplight as he pushed inside, “all gone now…all gone.”

Ochre’s eyes narrowed. This ‘thing’…he’d seen it before…a bloody arrogant filth soaked commoner, yes, but…and then suddenly it came flooding back to him; the theft of his guard, the failure at River Valley - it was him! Ochre’s voice was like nails down a chalk board,

“YOU! You’re that damned traitor!”

The General smiled, “Traitor am I?” he stopped advancing and tossed his mane, “The only traitor I see is the one standing before me: the one who has raped and defiled the very land that gave him life, the one who betrayed the people who made you what you are…you are the traitor Ochre…you are the murderer of our homeland.”

Ochre swallowed, “You’re mad! Stark raving mad! I should have had you executed, but I didn’t did I? I spared you!” he backed up towards the wall by the fireplace, “I was merciful, Dray! Merciful!”

“Merciful.” Dray said quietly, “Tell me, Ochre, who gave the command to have my family butchered. Can you tell me?”

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The unicorn stammered.

“I’m afraid I don’t believe you,” Dray growled, drawing his dagger, “you see, your assassination didn’t quite go according to plan. Your ‘helpers’ are all very dead I’m sorry to say.” He lowered his brows, “I expect you must be really quite shocked.”

Ochre suddenly dropped into a fighting stance, his teeth bared, “Don’t play games with me you bloody earth pony drone!” he shrieked, “You’re nothing! NOTHING! Nopony cares if chaff like you and your loathsome offspring are cleansed from the face of Equestria. The true rulers, the real Equestrians, tolerate your mud pony presence to do the sort of moronic manual work your kind are only fit for, and nothing more! I indulged you Dray, indulged you and where did it get me? You lost the army! You threw it all away!”

“You murdered my family, you bastard.” Dray snarled, “You stinking piece of filth, i’m going to enjoy this…”

“Keep back!” Ochre shouted, suddenly producing a long thin sword from beside the fireplace, “I’ll gut you, Dray, and then I’ll feed you and the rest of your pathetic cohorts to the crows!”

Ochre’s horn began to glow brightly as he flicked his sword back and forth, “Now you’ll see what a real Equestrian can do Dray, and when I’ve finished with you, you’ll thank me for killing you…THANK ME!”

“Thank you”

Ochre stopped suddenly, “What? Wh…what?” he looked down at the dagger that was sunk up to its hilt in his chest. He stared to his side at the pink mare - blood, his blood, slick on her hooves,

“You evil scum,” Lady Wicker gasped, shaking, “you’re not Equestrian, you’re not even a pony…you’re just…trash.”

“H…How…dare you!” Ochre choked, a gobbet of blood dripping from his muzzle onto the floor, “You worthless bitch!” his magic wavered, then glowed brightly, encompassing the dagger and pulling it free with a horrible sucking sound. He glowered at the mare, “I’m going to slit that pretty little whore throat of yours, Wicker. Say hello to your husband for me.”

Ochre flicked the dagger around to point at the mare before dropping it on the floor where it clattered to a halt by Lady Wicker’s hooves. Ochre’s eyes stared at her, and then back at Dray, his magic flickering. Blinking, he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Suddenly the castle itself shook as thunderous explosions turned the night sky outside into a brilliant green flare that illuminated the bedchamber and played across Dray’s sword.

“Lady Wicker?” he said quietly, “Please, come with us. The Princess will want to see you.”

In silence, the pink mare hurried past Ochre and disappeared behind the General where several of his soldiers gently lead her away up the corridor. Dray slid his father’s old sword back into its scabbard and turned towards the door, walked through it, and closed it firmly behind him with a click. A dull thud followed by a heavier one made him smile, despite the emptiness in his heart. His family…Honeysuckle, Polo, Charcoal…they could sleep easier now, safe with the herd. He motioned to the others and together, they headed for the throne room,

“We’ll need to arrange for a maid,” he said absently.

The Sergeant looked at him curiously,

“Sir?”

Dray let out a pent up breath, “The room needs cleansing.”

Across the capital, a cacophony of shouts, howls, and the ring of steel on steel rose to a crescendo and then died away almost as quickly as it had begun. High above the castle, borne upon wings as white as the first snows of winter, the Goddess of the sun turned the darkness into the glorious light of day. Her wings wide, her armour shining with the blaze of her warmth and glory, Celestia sang. Everypony stood and stared; weapons clattered to the ground, enemies and allies alike looking up at the Goddess smiling down upon them. She was back, she was here, the one they all loved as their mother and worshipped as their beloved Princess of the dawn sun…

Celestia.

The magnificence of the alicorns magic flooded the cold stone of capital, the frightened citizens leaving their homes and looking up in wonder. It was time…time to take their home back - back from the darkness to the break of day.

Celestia smiled to herself, her song flowing out and filling the hearts of her children, her beloved ponies. She would protect them, she would fight for them. This had to end, it would end, and Nightmare Moon’s cruelty would become no more than dust in the wind. Now…now was her time…

The ponies lifted their voices; old, young, mares, stallions, colts and fillies, their song joining with their Goddess, filling the streets with joy and that most sought after emotion above all the others…hope.

Chapter Thirty Nine - Old Warriors

CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

OLD WARRIORS

“How is he?”

The apothecary shook his head, his blue eyes looking into the Colonels,

“His physical injuries are severe, externally and internally. By rights Colonel, he should be dead but he’s hanging on somehow. I’ve done all I can, but the rest is up to him now and his will to recover.” He looked down at the bandaged and poultice covered creature on the bed, “Even if by the grace of the Goddess he survives, I don’t believe he will ever fly again. One of his wings has been all but incinerated.”

Fulminata closed his eyes a moment, “Has he spoken yet?”

“No.” The apothecary picked up a small jar and began applying a fresh layer of salve, “I fear for his mind, Colonel. I don’t know what he’s been through, but I’ve rarely seen injuries this severe on any warrior who was still alive. He’s either blessed by the Goddess…or cursed.”

“Leave us.”

The older thestral nodded and replaced his equipment before leaving the room.

“Thorn? Thorn, it’s Fulmin…can you hear me?”

Fuliminata watched his friends face. He was palid, weak, and with even more scars than before. What in the name of the Goddess had happened to him? The others had returned with some fantastical story about a pool of ‘silver water’ floating in the air that swallowed the Equestrian Princess, Thorn and one other warrior. Many thought that they were dead, destroyed by Celestia’s magic, but he wasn’t so naïve and neither was Nightmare Moon. She knew her sister was alive, she could sense her, and even with the army depleted as it was she was on the move once more to track the Celestian leader down once and for all.

The Colonel sighed. Thorn, his old friend; he was a thestral who remembered the old ways and respected them better than most, even ones older than himself. Fulminata shook his head - he probably didn’t know his father was dead. Sharfe had brought up Thorn as his own after his natural father had been killed in a raid, a raid where his own mother was taken. It wasn’t uncommon, not with the lack of breeding females in the Beyond, but by the grace of the Goddess, they had to stop this cycle or…he closed his eyes. They all knew it, all of them, but it was as if they were somehow predestined to destroy themselves, a built in obsession with self destruction that would remove their own race from existence. At least, that was until the Goddess gave them a new direction and a common purpose. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It hadn’t been long before the killing had begun once again. Was it all going to be worth it in the end? He would put his faith in the Goddess, as indeed did they all, but there was something nagging at him, something at the back of his mind that ‘itched’, and it was something he knew for a fact he couldn’t scratch.

“…Colonel…”

Thorns voice was faint, strained and distant; his eyes flickering open just the barest crack. Fulminata leaned down, his face close,

“Thorn,” he said quietly, “you’re safe now my friend, you’ve returned to us.”

Thorn let out a ragged breath, his breathing painfully laboured,

“I…failed…failed the Goddess…failed…you…”

“You took on a creature of incredible strength, Storm Major.” Fulminata said confidently, “It was a greater foe than any warrior of our tribe has ever faced. Not even Harkal the Possessed after he killed a dragon single hoofed would have dared to do what you did.” He carefully laid his hoof on Thorns shoulder, “To survive is a miracle in itself, and one in which we can give praise to the Goddess for your return.”

“The Goddess?” Thorn coughed, pain horribly evident on his face, “She…she will have me…killed.” He let out a sigh, “And she would be right to.” The wounded thestral looked up at his friend, his eyes still only faintly burning, but brighter and clearer than before, “I had her, Colonel, I could have…I could have done my duty…”

Fulminata nodded slowly, “Thorn, listen, I don’t know of any of our tribe who I would trust more than you. I don’t know what happened to you, but I do know you would have made the right choice.” He looked at the bandages, some of which already needed to be changed, “You look like hell.”

Thorn let out a snort of laughter, “Thank you Colonel, you know just how to…to cheer a soul up.” He coughed, gasping for air and winced in pain, “My armour…my…?”

“Its safe,” Fulminata said confidently, “I don’t know how you did it, but you dragged it on a sled halfway here before our patrols found you nearly dead in the forest.” He nodded, smiling, “The armourer says it will be ready for when you are well again.”

Thorn closed his eyes, “Perhaps…”

The Colonel tried to change the subject, “We’re sending troops to scour the area near where you were found. The Goddess believes Celestia has returned.”

Thorn’s eyes flew open, “Fulmin,” he tried to reach up to the thestral officer, “she has…she…she could have killed me, but she didn’t. I...I think…”

Fulminata’s hoof stopped his friend, his eyes closed and his head shaking in admonition “Don’t, don’t even think what you were going to say, Thorn, please - you know what would happen, you have your tribe and family to think of as well as yourself.”

The Major took a pained breath, “Such is duty…”

“-Duty to the end.” The Colonel nodded, noticing his friend’s voice was dry. He leaned forward and helped the wounded thestral take a sip from the bowl.

“Colonel?” Thorn said quietly, “What of my father?”

Fulminata bowed his head slightly, “He’s gone, Thorn. We sang him to the next world with many more of our brothers and sisters.”

“Did…did he die as he should?” Thorn asked.

The Colonel nodded, “Yes, he died very well.”

Thorn closed his eyes, “I should have been with the army,” he said distantly, “I should have fought shoulder to shoulder with our people.”

Fulminata shook his head, “You did your duty Thorn, following my orders. If anyone is at fault here, it is I.” He sighed, “The Goddess understands you did your best.”

“But…”

“Not another word, Storm Major, and that is an order.” Fulminata leaned back and sighed, “I thought we would have had them at the valley. We were so close…so damned close.”

Thorn looked up, “What happened?”

Colonel Fulminata laughed drily, “They got better.” He laid a hoof on Thorn’s shoulder, “But it’s all over now old friend, we won! The new Celestian leader surrendered their army and our forces are currently delivering the notices of victory to every corner of the land.” He smiled, “Our people will have a new home here, a home beneath the skies of freedom…and hope.”

“Hope” Thorn whispered, “I never thought I’d hear that word again. It feels…good.”

Fulminata smiled, his expression distant, “True.” He gave his mane a shake, “What happened to the warrior who went with you?”

Thorn took a breath. It was only one word, but it was enough…“Haj.”

“Damn.” Fulminata snorted out a thin plume of smoke, his eyes narrowing, “I thought we’d dealt with that foul curse upon our people. How did he get it, do you know?”

“No,” Thorn replied, “I wish I did, but he kept it in a pouch around his neck. If you see any of our warriors with that…” he trailed off.

“They’ll be dealt with, Thorn.” The Colonel assured him, “The last thing we need now are any more incidents of battle madness. These Equestrian’s are not as…’resilient’ as our people.”

“But resilient enough to prevent a quick victory.” Thorn said contemplatively, “If they find out their Princess has returned, there is a risk the conflict could re-ignite.”

“Then we must ensure it does not.” The Colonel said firmly, “However, for you, recovering your health is what is important.” He got up to leave, “When you are well, we will talk more; I would know more about what happened to you.”

Thorn nodded, as a wave of tiredness swept through his body.

Fulminata watched his friend slipping back into sleeps comforting embrace and smiled. Thank the Goddess he was back. By the seriousness of his injuries and state of mind, he had been through more than just a physical battle - the warrior had been affected on a different level, one where his own mind had become the battlefield. The Colonel had always been aware of Thorn’s adherence to the traditions and values of his people, but being in such close proximity to these ‘Equestrians’ could influence you. He’d seen it before, the way they could merely look at you; it was as if their large eyes could see into your soul and strip away the very layers of who you were, making you…like them. He gave himself a mental shake. It hadn’t been such a problem with the northern tribes, they at least were obedient, but….it was still there wasn’t it? That ‘poniness’ that emanated from them. He didn’t like them, he’d never liked them, and now his friend had been touched by that damned white witch and she’d gotten under his skin like an infection - spreading, devouring him invisibly, from the inside.

“How is he, Colonel?”

Fulminata looked up into the golden eyes of Captain Ingress, herself still bearing the scars of her recent encounter with dragons.

“Better.” He replied, “I think he will survive, Captain, given enough time.”

The deep purple mare nodded, her bottle green mane catching the light as she moved,

“Good, we may need him from what I’ve been hearing.”

“Oh? And what have you been hearing?” Fulminata asked, raising his eyebrows.

The mare shrugged, “That the Celestian witch is back, looking for revenge.” The Captain snorted, “Such are the speculations of warriors.”

“And what do you think, Captain?”

Ingress looked at him a moment, then bowed, “That I will obey orders, Colonel, that is all.”

Fulminata nodded and began to walk away. Pausing, he looked back at the Captain,

“Ingress, we have enough work to do without conjuring up ghosts in our minds. No matter what, we must remain true to the Goddess and to our people.”

The Captain saluted, “Yes, Sir.”

Fulminata returned the salute and headed back to his tent. It was another cold and thoroughly miserable day, but he supposed he’d get used to it over time. The Withers didn’t have seasons like Equestria, it was just…’The Withers’, or ‘The Wither World’, as those unused to it would often call it. The light there never changed, the land itself never changed, the black sand was forever the black sand and the white grass and crystal trees of the Beyond were the same as they always had been. Still, it did have a certain familiar charm which he hadn’t really noticed until he’d come to Equestria. Here water fell from the sky, the ground quickly becoming wet and muddy, cloying and sticking to your hooves. The shocking irregularity and unpredictability of this alien environment had forced him to re-assess his strategies. Now, the time of year known as ‘winter’ was upon them, and they were poorly prepared. The northern tribes had been warning them of the impending cold and ‘snow’, but they hadn’t fully appreciated just how much of a debilitation it could be. His people had reluctantly followed the advice of their northern pony allies for the most part, but it was still difficult to get them to change their ways and all too many had simply ignored them because ponies were, after all, ‘just ponies’. It would be a harsh lesson to many thestrals, but they’d soon learn and begin to adapt to their new home. Perhaps over time, they may even integrate with the local population, but he doubted it…the mere thought of…mating with one of those things was…he shuddered…it was unthinkable.

Outside the tent, the guards snapped to attention while behind them a white cloak wearing thestral mare appeared from the gloom like a spirit of the dead,

“Her divinity will see you now, Colonel.”

Nodding, the older thestral followed her into the heady atmosphere of Nightmare Moon’s tent. Inside, numerous braziers burned, adding the fragrant scent of woodsmoke into the air together with surprisingly pleasant warmth. It was encouraging to the warriors that their Goddess would camp with them and not, as he had guiltily expected, to simply take over one of the locals houses. She had returned from the Capital with her fastest fliers and, as many predicted, had needed to do little more than walk in the door and the new fop that had replaced Celestia had folded like a deck of cards. It was pathetic really, and little wonder his people had no time for these weak willed creatures. That said however, he still would have liked to have met the Celestian army commander - their strategy at the ridge had been quite inspired.

“Good morning Colonel.”

Fulminata bowed low, “Your most gracious Divinity.”

The midnight coated mare lay on her chaise longue, her smoke like mane flowing out behind her as she stretched out a hoof for him to kiss respectfully.

“Any news from our scouts?” She asked.

The Colonel kept his gaze low, “Not as yet Your Divinity.”

Nightmare Moon furrowed her brow, “This is a little troublesome, Fulmin. You understand why of course?”

“Yes, Your Divinity.”

“And I understand that our lost Storm Major had returned to us?”

Fulminata felt a chill run down his spine, “Yes, Your Divinity.”
The Goddess took a sip of her wine, the silver goblet floating in the purple glow of her magic,

“You have spoken to him?”

The Colonel nodded, “I have your divinity.”

“And?” she asked, “What has he told you?”

Fulminata kept his voice level and respectful, “That the Celestian Princess has returned, Your Divinity.” He cringed inside, waiting for the outburst of fury that never came.

“I know.”

The Colonel dared to look up, “Forgive me, Your Divinity, I had hoped…”

“-That you were wrong? That I was wrong?” the Goddess said quietly, “I cannot fault you for being optimistic Colonel.”

Fulminata didn’t know what to say. The Goddess seemed strangely subdued today - not angry, nor determined just…

“You ensured of course that our warriors are aware of my special order?” Nightmare Moon’s eyes filled the Colonels vision,

“Yes, Your Divinity.” He replied.

The Goddess lay back, “Good…good.” She took a deep breath and sighed it out, “We are close to achieving complete victory, Fulmin, so…so close. All we need to do now is remove this one obstacle and all our dreams will come to fruition.”

“I understand, Your Divinity.”

“Of course you do.” She replied quietly, “That is why you are in command of my forces, Colonel.”

Fulminata steeled himself. He didn’t want to ask this, but he still needed to know,

“Your Divinity? Forgive me, but, may I respectfully ask a question?”

Nightmare Moon took a sip of her wine, “You may.”

“When our scouts have discovered Celestia’s whereabouts,” The Colonel asked, “what are we to do?”

“Ah, yes…” The Goddess smiled sadly, rising from her seat and walked over to the large map table. Several chess like pieces displayed the distribution of their forces across Equestria. Many of them were now heading towards the north east like a scythe, curving inwards, leaving her sister nowhere to run. She shook her head, “Our forces will converge on her position as we have agreed, Fulmin. And then, when we have found her, we will…kill her.”

“Kill her?” The Colonel asked in surprise.

Nightmare Moon looked up, her expression unreadable, but there was a hint of something in her voice, a tinge of…regret?

“We afford to take chances now, Colonel.” She said calmly, “The land may be ours, but the hearts of its people are not, and victory will not be fully ours until all Equestrians accept the new order of the world. My sister’s return could very well undo everything we have achieved thus far and I will not allow that to happen.” She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, “I did not wish to do this. I had hoped she would simply accept she had lost, but she has gathered a small band of rebels to her and taken something…’important’ of mine.”

Fulminata watched as the familiar fire of the Goddess quickly began to rise,

“She has…stolen…stolen, something that belongs to me, and I will not tolerate that, Colonel, I will not tolerate it at all! So long as she lives, Celestia will continue to act as a beacon to any dissenters, a veritable rallying call to those who would cause disorder. It pains me to do this, I wish…I wish there were some other way, but we must succeed Fulmin…we must.”

The Colonel nodded, “We shall, Your Divinity, I promise you that.”

“Do you?” she laughed, “Such confidence!” the Goddess walked up to him and took his head in her hooves, “Dear Colonel, I have confidence in you…” She kissed him on the forehead, her warm breath tickling his nose and sending a thrill through his body, “Go now, I wish to be alone.”

The Colonel bowed, “By your divine guidance.”

Nightmare Moon watched the Colonel leave and sank back into her chair with a sigh. It was too much to expect wasn’t it, for Celestia to simply go away and not return? She closed her eyes and took a sip of her wine, savouring the sweet taste as it slipped down her throat. These thestrals, so eager for war, so willing to die in battle, they were a means to an end in some respects, as indeed were the northern tribes, but it was what that end was that was important, not how they got there. And now, dear Gods, they were so close! Yet here she was, yet again, interfering…always interfering. Celestia just couldn’t let things be could she? Always so damned moral, always the prissy little know-it-all that she’d had to grow up in the shadow of. Mother’s favourite, mother’s protégée - pure as the driven snow…or so everypony thought. Ha! Maybe she was! The damned fool had never so much as looked at a stallion as a prospective mate. Nightmare Moon scratched her chin in thought. Maybe…maybe Celestia’s interests lay elsewhere? She laughed - it wouldn’t surprise her! Perhaps the old white nag was the real ‘dark horse’ in the family after all! Father on the other hoof, now he was a real leader, he was the one who did what had to be done, whereas mother was the schemer, the manipulator, and the one her sister took after…damn her hide.

Nightmare Moon let the power seep away. It was so tiring sometimes, so wearing to be this way. She supposed she couldn’t be too greedy though; Luna must have her time. After all, she had made the promise and sealed the pact with her. She sighed…a few hours wouldn’t hurt…

Luna stretched and yawned; the stars were so beautiful tonight, even if she did say so herself. It was interesting just how little effort it took to manipulate the magics of both the day and night when you got used to it, but even so, she had her limit. Nightmare Moon, the spirit from the Wither World, exacted a price that she had paid willingly and yet there were times when she simply went too far…

“Why do you have that look on your face, Luna?” Nightmare Moon asked, “You know what must be done, must be done.”

“There has to be another way,” Luna said tossing her mane, “killing Celestia? It is too much, spirit, far too much.”

“And what other way is there?” Nightmare Moon snorted, “You wanted to rule didn’t you? You knew when you first put hoof on the road that lead to my domain, what this could mean. I have no particular interest in Celestia, nor her fate. I only see what must be.”

“Must be?” Luna said sadly, “Why must it be?”

The black mare clucked her tongue ittitably, “Because while she lives she will always remain a threat to you, to me, to us!” She shook her mane, “You know all this already, Luna and I tire of having this same conversation. If you do not wish to have that which you seek, then…”

“-I DO!” Luna shouted, stomping her hoof.

“Then stop this childish pouting, girl!” Nightmare Moon snapped, “It is unbecoming of a Goddess, and certainly unbecoming of one who is my host.”

Luna hung her head and walked over to the map table, idly tapping one of the pieces shaped like an armoured pony,

“Spirit?” Luna said quietly, “This…stallion you like. Celestia will use him against us you know. He will be a tool she uses to destroy all the work we have done.”

The black mare snorted loudly, “Pah! Nonsense! That stallion is no more than a child whose strings I pull as I would a marionette. He means nothing to me.”

Luna shook her head, “I know that’s not true.”

“And what do you know?” Nightmare Moon snarled, “Your obsession with that wendigo has availed you nought. He has a wife and a foal. He has played you for a fool all along.”

“What if I said that he meant nothing to me?” Luna said quietly.

Nightmare Moon shrugged, “Then I would also answer that I know that is not true.”

Luna smiled, “Time to be honest with ourselves, wouldn’t you say?”

“Ha! You have me there, girl!” Nightmare Moon stretched out, “Very well, we shall both continue to work towards our combined goals, agreed?”

“Is…is that possible?” Luna said in surprise, “Two stallions? It…it wouldn’t be seemly!”

“’Wouldn’t be seemly’,” Nightmare Moon suddenly burst out laughing, “I cannot believe I heard you say that!” She shook her head, “Oh dearest Luna, what you do with your stallion you can do in your time, and Bracken, well…I may even let you watch…”

“Don’t be disgusting!”

Nightmare Moon laughed aloud, flapping her wings as her smoky mane billowed out behind her, “Now who’s being a prude?” she walked towards the Princess and whispered in her ear, “Sometimes being wicked can be so…delicious.”

Luna looked away, leaving the spirit to her raucous behaviour. Secretly, she couldn’t help but give a small smile. One day…one day, he would be hers…oh yes…one day.

Chapter Forty - Children of the Night

CHAPTER FORTY

CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT

The throne room stank of that sickening creature. His odour had permeated everything, and his insidious cruelty had infected everypony in the capital, let alone her ancestral home. Most of the castle had staff had either ‘disappeared’, as apparently any who displeased Lord Ochre had a tendency to do, or, if they had any sense in their heads, had run for all they were worth at the first opportunity. Celestia gritted her teeth, fighting down the rising fury - this was her home! It was where she and her sister had ruled Equestria together, but now…now it had become a sickening parody of everything she had stood for and believed in. Ochre was dead of course, it was something she had anticipated, but it was still a pity…she would have liked to have spoken to him before sending him to the afterlife. If nothing else, at least Dray had repaid that monstrous creature for what he had done to his family and had some closure now. Celestia closed her eyes as a wave of emotions flooded through her. There was a part of her that cried out in anguish at the thought of a pony, any pony, killing another, be it justifiable or not. These thoughts, these sentiments, were what the Legion and Nightmare Moon relied upon: the weakness and ‘niceties’ of their enemy, the anticipation that they would try to appease them and offer favourable terms when threatened with violence and unrelenting aggression. Celestia knew all too well how appeasement ended…in annihilation. Your people, your way of life, given away unresistingly to an enemy who intended to impose their way of life, their rules over you, turning your people into nothing more than slaves. She took a breath, trying to calm her heart. There was no chance she would allow that creature Nightmare Moon to make slaves of her people…NEVER!

The pink mare before her was covered in a soldiers cloak, her wide eyes brimming with tears. Celestia walked towards her, her voice calm,

“Lady Wicker, you have been through a terrible ordeal. I cannot even begin to imagine the horrors of what that awful creature did to you, and in a place where you should have been safe and protected too. I pray that one day you may be able to forgive me. I never anticipated that Ochre would be capable of such cruel and monstrous acts. Please, is there anything I can do for you?”

The pink mare shook her head, “No…” she looked up at the Princess, the fire of determination and strength glowing in her eyes, “Your Majesty, what is done is done. Ochre did those things - it was him, nopony else but him. My only regret is that I didn’t kill him myself.” She nodded to the gray pony standing at a respectful distance away from her, “However, General Dray ensured that the monster was put down so he would not hurt anypony else.”

Celestia nodded, “None of this should have happened, Lady Wicker - none of it. I assure you that I will put an end to all of this and make our home a place of light and love once again.” She shook her rainbow mane and smiled gently, “Please, it is late. I beg that you accept my hospitality and stay at least until tomorrow. I would very much like to speak with you more and hear from your lips of what has been happening to my people while I have been gone.”

Lady Wicker curtsied, “I am eager to return home and gather my family now that you have come back to us, Your Majesty. However, I of course will accept your most gracious offer.”

The Princess smiled, “The castle is at your disposal Lady Wicker, and I have summoned my physician in case you wish to speak to him.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty” the pink mare replied calmly, “I shall look forward to speaking to you again tomorrow.”

Celestia nodded her head as Lady Wicker walked out in the company of two of the castle maids. She closed her eyes and rubbed her face with a foreleg, listening to the door close,

“Dray?”

The General walked up to her and bowed, “Your Majesty?”

“This doesn’t happen again, General. This cruelty, this evil, it has to stop.”

Dray nodded, “I understand Your Majesty, though I fear that the fear and suffering brought upon us by the Legion may well get worse before it gets better.”

“Ochre was not Legion, General, he was one of us, an Equestrian.” Celestia sighed loudly, “Dear gods, can we have really sunk so low so quickly? Is there a monster like him waiting within us all just waiting for the opportunity to indulge in such sickening behaviour?”

“I think we all have a little darkness inside of us, Your Majesty.” Dray scrubbed his mane, “Perhaps such dire times truly bring out the worst in everypony. Maybe the same is true even of our enemies.”

Celestia stared past Dray, the image of the crazed young thestral warrior, Rend, bearing down on Rush burned through her mind; his determination to kill, that singleminded will to destroy had been beyond anything she had ever experienced before in her life. She shuddered. If that thing, that ‘thestral’ hadn’t interfered they’d be together now, here in her home…where they both should be. The Princess took a breath and let it out slowly, clearing her mind,

“General, we have to move quickly and consolidate our position. When Nightmare Moon discovers what we have done, she will throw her full might at us. You have implemented your plans?”

Dray stoody bobbed his head, “Yes, Your Majesty. As soon as we took the castle, the messengers were dispatched. Harrier and her pegasi will do their job well.”

Celestia glanced towards the doors, “As I will do mine, General. Now, would you kindly ask the Chancellor and the Mayor to accept our hospitality for the evening?” She held up a hoof, “Oh, and see to it that our seafaring friends are taken good care of too. They have performed admirably, and loyalty should be rewarded, wouldn’t you agree?”

Dray smiled, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

The Princess stretched her wings, fighting back a yawn,

“Good. Then I will leave you to do what you do best General. In the meantime, I have a matter to attend to.”

The General bowed as the magnificent white alicorn walked past him, two guards falling in behind her. He sighed inwardly; his heart heavy with the knowledge of what they had had to do to reach this point, but this…this was merely the first step, the first of many on the road to a free Equestria. Whether they would keep the capital under their control or not remained to be seen, but first, they had to rebuild their forces and Harrier and her pegasi were the key to that. Once the people knew that their Princess had returned, that Celestia was back, they would have their hearts renewed with her light. It was as it should be…they would win, and all the horror, all the suffering, would be consigned to the books of history. Now though, he had a job to do,

“Major Wild?”

The red coated mare saluted, “General Dray”

“See to it that the prisoners are taken good care of, and the castle defenses are given top priority. I shall see if Ochre’s troops are willing to accept a ‘change of management’ in the morning. For now though, I think I shall go and speak to our...”

“-General Dray!” A famililar voice shouted, interrupting him, “My goodness, I thought you’d bought it!”

The white coated figure of an excited looking Colonel Spoon appeared in the doorway, her armour showing signs that she had, one again, lead from the front.

Dray’s heart leaped, “Colonel? What is it?”

“Thought you might like to know,” Spoon said smiling broadly, “we’ve managed to bag one of those thestral thingies - an officer by the looks of her. Big beggar too, took four of my boys to bring her down. She’s in the castle dungeon now.”

Dray looked at Wild, “An officer?” he nodded to Spoon, “Well then, Colonel, Major, shall we go speak to our new guest?”

“Do you need me Dray?” Gold Spoon asked, “I could really do with seeing to my boys and girls; a few of them took a bit of beating out there.”

Nodding, Dray laid a hoof on the Colonel’s shoulder, “Of course, Golden. Thank your troops for me will you? I’ll address everypony in the morning. Meanhile, you can use the castle’s facilities for quarters but give priority for the wounded. The kitchens are open as well - Cookie’s in there, so make sure you get a hot meal.”

“Better than ships biscuits, eh, Dray?” She said with a grin.

“I think anythings better than that!” The General laughed. He turned to Major Wild, “Come on Heather, let’s not keep our guest waiting.”

The two officers walked along the corridors and passageways of the castle, heading down into the little used dungeons. Little used that was, until Ochre had discovered they were a convenient way of ridding himself of those who displeased him, until more ‘permanent’ methods could be employed. Fortunately the dungeons had already been emptied and the nobles housed within given lodgings in the castle until Celestia could address them tomorrow. Dray was tired, but the energy in the air was driving him on. He hadn’t felt this optimistic in a long time - not since the war began in fact. Now they had plans, the very same plans that had once seemed little more than fantastical ideas, were now underway…and surprising quickly too. The Princess, Dray and his officers had planned everything down to the last detail, at least, as much as they could. It was like a huge jigsaw puzzle with all the pieces thrown in air. All those pieces needed to be recovered and slotted into place so that each fragment could come together as one whole. Things could, and most likely would, go wrong, but now they had a trump card, or to be more specific, two hundred of them. Dray smirked to himself; less what they’d used tonight of course.

The two of them turned a corner, following the directions given by the ‘liberated’ guards, finally coming face to face with two royal guardsponies. These two may be wearing burnished armour, but by the Goddesses they looked like the sort you really didn’t want to tangle with. Major Wild raised an eyebrow at the General and addressed the guards,

“General Dray and Major Wild to see the prisoner.”

The two guards saluted, with one of them opening the door behind them,

“Follow me please.”

As dungeons went, it was remarkably clean, with white washed walls, lanterns and several cells on each side. Peeking inside, Wild was surprised to see clean bedding, flooring and even a small table and chair. All very civilised, she pondered to herself absently - no doubt their new guest would appreciate the attention to detail. She nearly laughed.

“You in there!” The guard banged on the cell bars, “You have visitors.”

The guard saluted and stood a respectful distance away, leaving the General with the key. Dray peered inside - it was dark, with a single lamp that had its shade down, all but hiding the occupant in the shadows. He looked at Wild who shrugged, taking a lantern off the wall and pushed the door open, motioning for Dray to enter,

“So much for ladies first eh?” The grey stallion muttered.

The red mare grinned, making Dray roll his eyes. He’d ignore the way she stuck her tongue out at him playfully. No doubt she didn’t think he’d seen the cheeky gesture.

The cell was cool, but not cold, but like any cell, it was spartan when it came to furnishings. At least the creature had food, water and light, none of which appeared to have been touched. The beds occupant was sat on the edge, her head bowed and eyes closed, as if it…she…were in quiet contemplation. Perhaps she was communing with her Goddess? Dray felt a shiver run down his spine. It was bad enough fighting these creatures in battle, but knowing that they somehow had the ability to share their dreams with their deity was deeply troubling. It was like him having Celestia walk into his dreams each night for a debriefing; It was…intrusive, and a real concern when it came to security.

“My name is General Dray of the Celestian armed forces, this is Major Wild. I trust you are being taken care of?” he asked.

The creature said nothing.

“Do you speak Equestrian?”

Still nothing.

Dray watched her, the way the light played across the sleek black fur, the bones of her structure disturbingly plain without the usual covering armour he was used to seeing on them. Her mane had a red tinge to it, as did her tail. It was hard to see, but there were subtle variations in the fur too, a sort of shimmer here and there of greens and blues. Her wings were flat to her sides, the large leathery things more akin to those of a dragon than anything he’d seen before, but then Dray had very rarely seen thestrals fly. Probably due to all the armour they wore he surmised. In fact, this was the first time he’d seen one without their armour on. They looked…alien…yet, there was something oddly familiar about them too, a sense of common heritage he couldn’t quite put his hoof on. The thestral’s teeth though were something definitely not pony-like - they were sharp, curving up over her top lip at the corners of her mouth with the occasional wisp of smoke drifting out as she breathed. Were these things some sort of dragon hybrid? There was definitely something there, some semblance to the huge beasts. It was…intriguing.

Dray glanced at Wild who nodded in silent agreement,

“May I ask your name?”

The creature’s eyes suddenly opened, a crack of fiery light spilling out, the blue-white flames making the two officers glance at each other. They’d seen thestrals before, fought them, killed them in battle, but there was something about those eyes that always struck them as one of the most disturbing features of these beasts. They were…frightening. The burnings orbs fixed on the Major,

“My name is Wave, Second Wing Leader. You may as well kill me now, Celestian, I will not tell you anything.”

The thestral’s words were almost like an extension of the beast itself, the way they seemed to bypass your ears and slam straight into your brain - Dray felt like he wanted to scratch his mind. The thestral narrowed its eyes then shook its mane, a very pony like gesture, Dray noticed. He sighed,

“Nopony is killing anypony, miss.”

The thestral snorted, “If you are going to torture me, Celestian, get on with it - you bore me.”

“We don’t torture people, Wing.” Wild said calmly, “I don’t believe your people do either, do you?”

The thestral looked up at the Major, “Don’t we?” she sneered, “How would you know?”

Wild smiled, “I know more about your people than you think. I believe we share a common ancestry and even a common leader. Your Goddess is the sister of Celestia after all.”

“Hah!” The thestral snorted, “Common ancestry? With you?” Wave let out a loud barking laugh, “You know nothing of our people or our past! Nor, it appears, of your own…’pony’.”

The intense fire in the thestrals eyes blazed.

Wild sniffed, “I know enough, Wave, and I can see just from looking at you that we are not so different.”

Wave shook her head, “Delusional as well as ignorant.”

“I don’t understand,” Dray said scratching his mane, “you look like us in some ways, but…” he shrugged, “our histories don’t mention you.”

The thestral warrior lifted her head proudly,

“Our storytellers sing us the old tales, the ballads and sagas of the birth of our people, the times before you…your kind, stole our home and we were imprisoned. We were locked away like rats in a cage, left to wither and die while your soft, weaker kind propagated, infesting the land of our birth with your pathetic species.”

“The Princess?” Dray asked.

“Of course not!” the thestral snapped, “You think the white witch has the power to defeat an entire people?”

“Then who, Wave?” Wild asked, “Who would do such a thing?”

“You really don’t know, do you?” the dark coated mare said shaking her head, “don’t Celestian’s have storytellers?”

“We do,” The Major replied, “but the stories don’t go back much further than the wars of the three tribes.”

“Three tribes?” Wave shook her mane, baring his teeth, “There were four tribes once, but we were the unwanted ones, the ones who didn’t ‘fit in’ with the Great Destroyer’s plans for your utopia.”

“Great Destroyer?”

“The one whose power eclipses that of your witch, Celestian.” Wave said, a small wisp of smoke curling up from her muzzle, “The one who will some day return and destroy all he has wrought, cleansing all and returning the world to the dust from whence it came.”

Dray shook his head, “Doesn’t sound like it was worth invading Equestria if this ‘Great Destroyer’ of yours is going to wipe us all out,” He raised an eyebrow, “perhaps you would have been better off staying where you came from.”

Wave’s eyes blazed, “You…! How dare you! Our people have live in eternal darkness because of you! Your damnable kind infest this world like parasites and act as if it was yours to do with as you please! We will have our home back, Celestian, we will return and have our rightful place back as it should have been.” She smiled grimly, “The Goddess will be here soon and snuff out your little band of rebels like a candle in the wind.”

“You seem very sure of yourself, Wave.” Wild said calmly, “Your army is spread out, and even as we speak, they are heading north looking for us. I think we may be here a while before Nightmare Moon gets around to ‘snuffing us out’.”

Wave snorted, “Trickery; that is all your witch is capable of now?” she shook her head, “The time of ponies is at an end, Celestian. You have lost, can’t you understand that? The Goddess is already bringing in the new order that will make a new home for our people and the sooner you learn to accept that, the better.”

Dray stared at her, “You think your people could live here? Amongst ponies?”

Wave gritted her teeth, her eyes blazing, “No…not amongst you…above you. You are inferior to us Celestian - you are weak, soft and pathetic. Why do you think each time we have fought, your people have run like cowards into the hills and forests to hide? You need leaders, you need strength, and we are that strength. You will see that…with time.” She lifted an eyebrow, “Now, do as you will with me, I tire of this.”

Dray nodded to Wild, “Major?”

The two officers rose and left the room, with Wild pausing in the doorway,

“Wave? Do you have foals?”

The thestral looked up at her, her eyes shimmering in the gloomy room.

Wild watched her a moment and nodded silently, “Live on, Second Wing Leader Wave, if not for yourself…for them.”

Dray closed his eyes, listening to the door clang shut and the key turn in the lock. The Major looked at him sadly, shaking her head,

“I need a drink.”

“I’ll join you shortly.” Dray replied, “First I have a few things to sort out and, if you don’t mind the company, I’ll be happy to share a mug or two with you later.”

“I suppose we’ll need to hold off on too much celebration,” Wild said, pausing at the junction in the corridor, “just in case.”

The General gave her a nod and headed off towards the accommodation wing. It was going to be a long night, but he’d make the time for her somehow. Heather was special, there were so few he could talk with as freely as he could do with her. She was a true friend.

************************

There were always duties that needed to be attended to: dignitaries that had to be spoken with, treaties to finalise, arrangements to make - a seemingly endless list of tasks that constantly demanded her attention, pulling her this way and that. She let it too, or at least, she used to. Like a pawn in a cosmic game of chess played by those who remained aloof and unseen, the ones who hid on the edges of sight and mind, Celestia felt as though she had been nothing more than a mindless playing piece, used for their thoughtless amusement. They thought they were so clever, but she knew they were there, the secret players of the great game - the game where the stakes were the lives of hundreds, thousands, perhaps even millions. She shook her mane and increased her pace; she wouldn’t be played any more, she would make her own future, and forge her own destiny. Let Fate play her damnable games - she would fight back…and fight she would! The Princess gritted her teeth. How well she remembered that day, the day her mother had taken her to see the wizened old hag in her cabin on the mountainside, the one who told her things that hadn’t really meant much to her at the time, and yet now…

Celestia reached the door. It had been locked by royal decree, her decree, and by the feel of the magic around it nopony had tried to access it since the time Willow, Rush’s mother, had made her fateful journey to another world…never to return. She closed her eyes and concentrated, feeling for the familiar tingle of magic, the webs of power that had been spun into a complex pattern that only needed the right touch…in the right…place…

With a slight pop of air pressure, the spell disappeared and the lock opened with a loud ‘clunk’. It was time…time to look into the past once more.

Lifting her head, Celestia pushed open the door to the dusty room beyond. Her entry triggered the ancient magical torches on the walls, their light sending a pale blue-white light across the already eerie room, but it was what was in centre of the room that held her attention. There, up a few simple stone steps, stood the large oval stone portal just as it always had, even since before she were born. It looked…dead somehow; cold and lifeless, as though it were nothing more than an eccentric decoration of ornately carved stone. In some ways of course, that’s exactly what it was…stone. But it was what had been done to that stone that made it what it was - the magical runes that had been carved into it, the incredible power and craft that had been weaved into its construction. It wasn’t dead, no, far from in fact - it was…sleeping.

The Princess took a breath, steadying her heart and mind, focussing on channelling her magic into the carved nodes that would bring the portal back to life. It was a simple spell really, an infinitesimally small application of magic to the right area and…

Nothing.

Celestia rubbed her eyes. It was late, in fact, it was virtually morning, and this probably wasn’t the best idea she’d had, but...Rush…The Princess gritted her teeth, fighting back the tiredness and let her desire, her need, guide her. She sent the spell into the nodes once more…

Nothing.

Unbidden, her anger bloomed, quickly beginning to replace her frustration. Celestia tried recasting the spell again and again, but each time, the portal remained completely, and stubbornly, unresponsive. The spell was correct wasn’t it? She’d studied it and practiced it endlessly, so it had to be. In fact, it was actually a very simple spell, and yet for some inexplicable reason it wasn’t haven’t any effect whatsoever. She sat back on her haunches, her head beginning to spin with the concentration and exertion of her magic on top of her existing physical fatigue. This was ridiculous! Why in the name of all the gods wasn’t this working? Celestia shook her mane and took a breath, reaching deep down inside herself, tapping her reserves, pulling up everything she had. She concentrated, weaving and tuning her magic until it was ready. She watched it, felt it, but even as she sent the spell into the node she already knew…

Nothing.

The building frustration, anger and the strain of the last few months was beginning to bubble. Celestia laughed out loud - it was so obvious wasn’t it! That old hag had done this to her, she’d told her, she’d warned her, but what was a foal to know of the machinations of an old Goddess? That monstrous, evil THING! Celestia’s magic suddenly blew through the room in a torrent, a white hot raging storm of fury as her heart cried out in a heedless scream that shook the room to its very foundation. The Princess roared, her wings wide and as she floated up off the ground, an image of the sun’s light in all its glory, and merciless power.

She called to him, crying out in her helplessness and grief. Why wasn’t this cursed thing working? WHY?!

She was tired, that was it, yes…too much strain, far, far too much. Celestia took a deep breath, releasing her grip on her magic and sank back to the floor, her legs nearly buckling from the effort. Hanging her head in defeat, the Princess hung her head bit back a sob as her tears rolling down her face and dropped onto the dusty floor. But then a thought came to her: Books! That was it! The ancient library of the castle - there had to be something in there, something that would open the portal once more! Celestia’s foreleg suddenly buckled under her, sending her crashing to the floor in a heap of legs and wings. For a moment she just stayed there too tired to move, trying to catch her breath and recover her strength. She’d done far too much tonight, she knew that already, and if she didn’t get some sleep soon she’d be no use to anypony. Tomorrow, she would begin her search in the library, but she must have a strategy, a plan…

Yawning suddenly, Celestia walked slowly back to the door. There was just so much to do, it was simply too much for one, but that had always been one her greatest faults hadn’t it? That inability to trust others to share some of the responsibility and relieve her of some of the pressures of office, had ultimately lead to…Ochre. Thank the Gods for Dray. If only there were more like him, but…they were out there weren’t they? Why had she always look to the nobility for leaders? Dray wasn’t nobly born, nor was his family. For that matter, he was a farmer’s son wasn’t he? She shook her head in wonder - she had a lot to consider for the future.

Mercifully, she soon found herself in the corridor leading to her bedchambers. Two royal guards stood outside, snapping to attention as she wearily approached. One of them she noticed had part of his tail singed away, probably from thestral or dragon fire, the other had a nastly looking nick on her ear that had been stitched and slathered with healing ointment. She smiled gently,

“Thank you…” was all she could manage.

The stallion seemed to falter, unsure how to respond, but the mare bowed low,

“It is a pleasure to serve you, Princess, and Equestria.”

Celestia nodded, smiling, “Our home needs all us to protect her. With ponies like you, we shall have peace soon enough.” She walked through the doors and closed them behind her with a glow from her magic, noting how the guardsmare stuck her tongue out at the stallion with a smirk.

The Princess smiled.

A familiar orange coated unicorn maid with deep green eyes stood respectfully by the fireplace and curtsied,

“Good evening, Your Majesty.”

“Lilly?” Celestia looked at the young maid in surprise, “You’re still here? I thought you would have….left.”

Lilly smiled, “I did, but one of the girls from the castle sent word that Your Majesty had returned and I hot hoofed it back here. I knew your room would need a little sprucing up.”

The Princess looked around her. The bedchamber was pristine: the beds sheets pressed, the curtains cleaned, the roaring fire adding just the right amount of warmth…she barked a laugh,

“I think you have more magic than I, Lilly!” She beamed at her happily, the distress of earlier dissipating in the warm smile of the orange maid, “It’s good to be home.”

Soon, with her armour properly stacked, panniers hung up, mane and coat brushed, the Princess dismissed Lilly and climbed onto the bed. By the Gods she was tired. Her fatigue was threatening to overwhelm her, but there was one more thing she needed to do before she could sleep. The golden glow of magic quickly filled the room, focussing on the flap of one of her panniers, floating out a small innocuous looking pouch. Celestia brought it to her, tipping out its contents into her hooves. She closed her eyes and traced the lines on its surface: the carving, the smell of the wood…the smell of Rush’s home…

With the lightest touch of her magic, the box’s lid popped open, revealing a slim key within. Lifting it out, the Princess took out a long gold necklace from her bedside cupboard and threaded it through the key before slipping it around her neck. Now…now the box was simply that…just a box. She took a breath, sighing it out,

“Good night, Rush. Gods keep you safe.”

She closed her eyes and placed a gentle kiss on the precious box before floating it over to the shelf of her book case. There it would sit, and wait, waiting for the day when he returned to be at his mare’s side. A tear rolled down Celestia’s cheek, soaking into her fur as she suddenly grabbed one of her pillows and squeezed it for all she was worth,

“Oh, Rush!”

She would see him again…she would! The Princess leaned back and spoke quietly to the room, to the world,

“I will have what I seek. I will have back what is mine.” She smiled. Oh yes, she would have it all back, and nopony would stop her this time…nopony…

****************************

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Chalk laughed, waving his sword in his magic, “Did you see me there, Brack? I was like like…hah!” He jumped to one side, waving his sword, “And then…gotcha!” He lunged at an imaginary foe, “Bloody hell, I’ll need to remember that one. Wait till I tell…”

“Tell who?” A voice behind him made him jump.

Bracken’s eyes went wide as he stepped back from the advancing mare.

“Been off having fun have we?” Gretel snorted, “You bloody stupid idiot! You could have got yourself killed!” She shook her head, “What is it with you Chalky? You got a blasted death wish?”

“The General said we were still in the army’s service until the castle was retaken, and we’ve done it!” Chalk announced with a smirk on his face. Unimpressed, Gretel gritted her teeth angrily,

“He also said you were to stay on the ship! That was one of the conditions for my helping them! Good Goddess, Chalky, will you for once listen to somepony other than your damned testosterone?”

“My what?”

Bracken leaned in, whispering in his ear. Chalk’s eyes went wide,

“I do NOT!”

“You bloody well do!” Gretel rose to her full height, “Now put that bloody sword away and come with me.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Chalk said in confusion, “I thought we’d…”

“Oh, shut up Chalky!” Gretel snapped, “I’m really angry with you right now, and you’re going to make it up to me.”

“Uh…how?” he asked.

The Captain grinned at him menacingly, “You’re going to buy my drinks for me.”

“I’m…what? Wha…but…I haven’t got any money!” Chalk sputtered.

“Your pay” Gretel said raising an eyebrow, “You probably forgot, but everypony on the crew gets paid and you’re on the crew now whether you like it or not.”

Chalk’s ears pricked up, “Cool! So…how much do I get?”

“About enough to pay for my drinks tonight” Gretel said meaningfully, “There’s a drinking hole round here where they sell the best spirits from around the world and I intend to make a good night of it.” She suddenly stopped and poked him in the chest with her hoof, “Do I make myself clear, Mister Dust?”

Chalk blinked in surprise, “Um…yes!”

“Good boy.”

Bracken watched the couple wander off into the capital with a shake of his head. He just didn’t know what to think any more, the world had gone mad and he was merely a leaf carried along on the surface of a raging river of insanity. Perhaps it was him? Maybe he was the one who’d gone crazy and the rest of the world with all its horrors was actually just the norm. He tossed his mane and snorted. If that was indeed the case, then you could keep it. Maybe someday, something would make a modicum of sense to him, but he doubted it. For now though, he decided to go off and find a drinking hole for himself, one where he could go and get absolutely hammered, and cheaply. He checked his money pouch…yup! It was as he thought. Maybe he could find some way of claiming his back pay from the army now they were back. It was worth a shot, but…ah, sod it! It could wait until morning.

Bracken trotted through the streets, past the throngs of milling soldiers and the celebrating locals, until he turned a corner into what looked like the entrance of a bookshop of some kind. He clucked his tongue and turned to leave. There had to be somewhere round here a pony could find a drink, and he sure as hell didn’t want to spend another night on that bloody ship either!

“Excuse me, sir?”

A female voice called out to him, so soft he nearly missed it. Bracken peered back over his shoulder and saw the faint outline of a dark purple mare with a short silver and blue mane, peeking from the doorway,

“Is it…is it all over? I heard fighting.”

Bracken smiled, “Yes, miss, it is. You may want to stay indoors for a while though just in case.”

She looked up at him, her unusual orange eyes catching the light and making the stallion step back in surprise,

“Sir, are you a soldier?” the mare asked, “Forgive me, I’m a little frightened. You couldn’t stay with me for a while until my mother comes home, could you?”

Bracken raised an eyebrow, “Your mother?”

“She works in the castle kitchens.”

“I see.” Bracken felt his hoof twitch towards his sword. His hackles were going up, but he couldn’t put his hoof on why. The mare sounded genuine enough, and there was definitely some fear in her voice. Anyway, what could this earth pony mare do against an armed soldier? He stopped and checked behind him before shrugging,
“Certainly Miss…?”

“Nutmeg” she said quietly, “Please, come inside. I have the kettle on the stove and tea if you’re cold.”

He was cold. In fact, he was bloody freezing. Bracken nodded and followed his host into the dark front of the shop.

Inside, the smell of books was overpowering. The pungent aroma of paper and wood with the slight background hint of glue was actually quite heady, and oddly comforting somehow. It was quiet here, a simple place of contemplation and thought. Towers of books, racks of scrolls, pots of quills and numerous other items of the bookbinder and authors arts sat around awaiting customers…probably when it was daylight outside of course. It had been so dark, he hadn’t even seen the shops name outside. Bracken dismissed his worries with a shrug; a hot cup of tea was far more important than anything else right now. Pity it wasn’t a wheat beer though, or rum…rum was good.

“This way, please.” Nutmeg said over her shoulder.

The mare lifted a lantern from the wall, taking the handle in her mouth and trotted off through a back door and into what looked like a small living room. By the looks of the place, this was where the owners of the shop lived. Another door lead off to a workroom and a set of stairs disappeared up to what was probably the bedroom. With the fire crackling away in the hearth, it actually felt quite cosy.

“Miss Nutmeg…” Bracken began.

“-Please, just ‘Nutmeg’, sir.” She smiled slightly, “Would you like a hot drink? I have tea, but I have some of fathers spirits too if you’d like?”

“Spirits?” Bracken ears pricked up and he licked his lips, “Um…you don’t have any rum by any chance do you?”

Nutmeg bobbed her head happily, her orange eyes reflecting the glow from the fire,

“Of course!” she replied pleasantly, “Would you like a shot in your tea?”

“Can’t say I’ve ever tried that before, but why not?” Bracken said rubbing his forelegs together, “You don’t mind if I sit by the fire to warm up do you?”

“Please…” Nutmeg held out a hoof in invitation before turning back to the stove with its steaming kettle, “Father used to love a cup of tea with rum,” she said as she worked, “he was a good stallion, and a fine artisan.”

“Was?”

Nutmeg paused as she stirred the tea, “He died in the war.”

“Oh…” Bracken felt like kicking himself, “I’m sorry Nutmeg, that was insensitive of me to ask.”

“No…” she said quietly, “I shouldn’t have mentioned him. You were only being polite, forgive me.” The purple mare placed the pot of tea, cups and the bottle of rum on the table between them, “I have some hot cakes here too. I’ll have to leave a couple for mother, but we can have one each if you like sir.”

“Bracken.”

She smiled, “Bracken. That’s a nice name.”

The black stallion returned the smile, his heart warming to the kindly mare, “Nutmeg’s a nice name too. Makes me think of good things, like warm spicy cakes on a cold winters evening.”

With a light chuckle, the young mare passed him a plate with a cake on it, “This one does have nutmeg in it,” she blinked her large orange eyes, “and cinnamon, plus some sultanas. I hope you don’t mind sweet things.”

“No…” Bracken could feel his pulse racing as he watched the mare pouring the rum into his tea, “I like sweet things.”

Oh Goddesses, what was he thinking! Alone in a room with an attractive young mare who he didn’t know and now his body was beginning to react as if he was in bloody season! He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. She’d asked for his help and he would give it, that was all.

“You don’t seem like the other soldiers” Nutmeg observed taking a dainty nibble on her own biscuit.

“Don’t I?” Bracken looked down at his body, “Oh, no armour?”

She nodded, “I thought you might have been with the Legion.”

“The Legion?” Bracken looked up, “Why?”

“Your coat…” she replied shyly, “black as midnight, shining in the moonlight.” Nutmeg looked up at him, “The moon outlined your coat, and you shone like silver in the dark of night.”

“That’s…very poetic.” He said gently.

“Do you think so?” Nutmeg smiled, “I’m writing a new book at the moment. I call it ‘Reflections in a mountain lake’. It’s a story about a pony who finds herself lost in the forest, and stumbles across a large perfectly still lake.” She leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea, “It’s about reflections, both physical and metaphorical, taking the reader on a journey of discovery, not only of the books character, but of themselves.”

“It sounds pretty deep.” Bracken said, taking up his teacup.

“Hmm…perhaps,” Nutmeg replied, “but I want to make ponies think, and that’s what’s important. We shouldn’t just accept the ‘what is’, Bracken, we should look beyond today to what ‘may be’ - the infinite possibilities of a new and exciting future.”

Bracken felt his head whirling. He was a little lost for words, what with the warmth, the tea, the rum…his head was getting a little fuzzy.

“Come with me, Bracken…” Nutmeg rose from her chair, reaching out to him with her forehooves, “Come…”

In a happy, if slightly confused daze, the black stallion rose from his chair, his legs a little unsteady, but solid enough to let him follow the young purple mare into a back room and down a short flight of stairs. It was colder down here, but not too uncomfortable. Where were they going? He shook his head, trying to clear it…what was…?

She stopped, “Here.”

Nutmeg guided him to a large cushion that sat on the floor before a small altar. It was a fairly small room, bedecked with deep purple and black tapestries, with a dark blue rug covering the floor, adorned with tastefully embroidered stars and moons. In front of the two ponies, the altar sat nestled between two bundles of incense, a silver crescent moon inlaid into its midnight blue marble surface. Bracken watched in silence as Nutmeg walked slowly up to the altar, and curtsied. Producing a taper, she began lighting the incense before settling back down on the cushion beside him.

“In all things, there is balance.” Nutmeg said in a voice that seemed to flow around the room, “As day passes to night, the night becomes the day.” She leaned forward and tapped a small silver bell, the sound seeming to cut through the atmosphere in the room on some level that Bracken could sense, but not see.

“We are as one beneath the embrace of the heavens, the light of the universe, held in the love of our lady of the stars and moon.” Nutmeg’s voice was warm and gentle, carrying the same note of kindness that Bracken remembered his mother having as she prayed,

“Come to us mother; protect us, shelter us from harm, guide us in our lives until the day we pass beyond to be with you forever in your eternal loving moonlight.”

Bracken felt his body become heavy and then suddenly lighter, as if he had abruptly jumped up and become light headed. It was not an unpleasant sensation, but was one that certainly came as a surprise. He gave his head a shake and tried to regain his wits. This wasn’t right, he shouldn’t be here, he had to…

“Hello, Bracken…”

That voice!

“Miss me, my black stallion?”

Bracken’s heart leaped, his mind reeling with emotions and thoughts that crashed and splintered until they coalesced into the image of…

“Nutmeg?” Bracken stared at the purple mare, but the eyes that looked back at him, the smile that sat on that young face - it wasn’t hers…it was…

“Divine Majesty” Bracken bowed.

The Goddess chuckled. Her voice sounded different, coming from another pony, but the intonation, the inflections in the words - it was her.

“I had not expected to find you so soon, young Bracken.” Nightmare Moon said quietly, “This young child of the night found you much quicker than I had hoped. It seems that fate truly does mean for you to come back to me.” She moved closer, her breath spicy with the scent of the cinnamon and nutmeg cake, “Do you miss me, my stallion?”

Bracken felt a tear roll down his cheek, his heart beating loudly in his ears, “I do.” he said breathlessly, “Majesty, I do.” He closed his eyes, feeling the hoof of his Goddess stroke down his chest. It was her, and yet it wasn’t her, but…but he wanted to be with her…he…

“Oh, Bracken…” Nightmare Moon cooed, “Such an eager stallion, aren’t you? Do I really move your heart so?”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“Yes…” she purred, “Tell me, Bracken, what do you know?”

Bracken sat back and poured out his heart. He told her about the ship, about the army, about everything. He was hers completely, body and soul, and she commanded him. She was the Goddess and Bracken loved her, so, so much…

Time passed, the Goddess asking questions and Bracken answering. Her physical body was far away still, so far that it would take time for her to find him, but find him she would.

“You have done well, my Bracken.” The Goddess said, smiling at him, “You are still loyal to me, even after what that cruel witch did to you. Did she hurt you?”

He bowed his head, “Yes.”

Nightmare Moon shook her head, “I didn’t want you to be hurt, my brave stallion. But no matter, the white witch could not pull me from your heart. That is a domain which only you can control.” She smiled at him, “Bracken…I have one final question for you.”

He looked up eagerly, “Yes, Majesty?”

“Who do you love?”

“I…” Bracken paused, his eyes staring into the brightly shining orbs of the purple mare, her orange eyes reflecting his own grey ones. He wasn’t sure what to say, but…he knew the answer, inside…yes, he knew. He nodded to himself,

“I love you, Your Majesty.”

Nightmare Moon smiled, “I know, Bracken.” She moved forward and lifted his head in her hooves, “I shall be with you soon enough, but for now, I shall give you a little…reward.”

Bracken closed his eyes, his heart racing as he felt the forelegs of his Goddess slip around his neck, pulling him into a warm embrace. Her lips were warm, soft and gentle against his.

“Majesty…” he breathed.

The Goddess chuckled, letting out a soft moan,

“Mine…”

Chapter Forty One - The Heart's Farewell

CHAPTER FORTY ONE

THE HEART’S FAREWELL

War. The fire, the destruction, the suffering and death…Great Goddesses, when would this end? It had to sooner or later, before there was nothing left worth fighting for. Dray closed his eyes and cleared his mind, trying to find a place of calm inside himself. He had done everything he could think of, covered every angle, ever eventuality. Now, everything was in place, the plans were in motion - but would it be enough? Would it ever be enough? The General shook his head as if shaking loose the negativity that had washed over him from out of nowhere. Rubbing his mane with his towel, he sighed. It was times like these, when he was alone, that some of the darker thoughts would occasionally intrude and dampen his mood despite the pleasantness of feeling clean.

Dray sat back and wiped his muzzle. He felt better for a good coat clipping and shower. Hoof care was important too, particularly for soldiers, and the old saying ‘An army marches on its hooves’ was just as true now as it ever was. Incredibly, he’d had to pass orders regarding the most basic hygiene instructions as some of the recruits had been rather ‘unsteady’ to say the least. Others would say ‘lame’. Some cases of laminitis had been reported, amongst other issues such as sprains, injuries from sparring during training, even one described as a ‘High speed baking accident’. He’d rolled his eyes at that one! Still, the castle defences were sound, the army was reforming and the armouries and barracks quickly filling with the tools of war, stocked both with steel and muscle. Dray had read through the initial reports filtering back in through from his pegasi scouts. The hit and run tactics on the thestrals had begun, the explosives being put to good use in destroying the enemy’s supplies and camps at every opportunity. But it was dangerous work, and reports of reprisals from the thestrals had begun trickling in. Apparently they’d hit several villages suspected of harbouring ‘rebels’ and taken all the adults and…He had to put the report down. It made him feel physically sick.

“Damn them…” he muttered, brushing his mane out.

He had to stop this, there had to be something they could do to bring it to an end. It would take time of course, he knew that, and impatience could kill a hell of a lot more than a few ponies from some small villages, but it didn’t help the poor devils living there when the Legion appeared full of vengeance and anger. He wondered how he would feel in his enemy’s shoes, how he would react if he saw his friends blown to pieces by some unseen foe - a fast moving war chariot diving out of the sky and dropping a barrel of unstable magical death into their midst. It wasn’t war, it was…He sighed. War was war, and, as the Princess herself had said, ‘Victory is victory whatever the cost’, or something like that anyway.

“What do you think will run out first: thestrals or barrels?” Wild asked brushing her mane beside him.

“I don’t care, so long as we can rid out home of the damned things.” Dray replied stretching his legs, “Them and their allies.”

“Take out the thestrals and the rest will run for the hills.” The Major said levelly, “They’re fighting for gold, nothing more.”

“The minotaurs and griffins maybe,” Dray replied, “but not the grey ghosts. They’re the children of the night, and as long as their Goddess is around, they’ll fight till the end.”

“You think?” Wild raised an eyebrow, “Their thestral ‘friends’ treat them like fodder, Dray, throwing them into battle to soak up our arrows as if they were nothing. Surely they can see the folly of fighting alongside such monsters?”

“I imagine they do,” Dray sighed, “but they’re fighting for their Goddess, Heather, not the thestrals.”

“Humph!” Wild sniffed, “Bloody sheep to the slaughter if you ask me. The sooner the Princess takes out that Nightmare Moon bitch the better.”

Dray nodded, “All good things in time, Heather.”

“So why not just dump a load on her noggin and have done with it?” Wild asked holding the door open for the grey stallion, “One quick ‘boom’ and no more Nightmare Moon.” She paused, nodding to herself, “Quite catchy that…”

The General laughed, “True, but don’t forget she’s still the Princess’s sister. I think she wants to drive the enemy in on themselves and make them realise they can’t win.”

“Surely you don’t think they’ll surrender?” Wild asked in amazement, “I mean, come on! Nightmare Moon?”

“I know, Heather,” Dray replied, “but she has hope, and that’s something that I think we lost some time ago, until she brought it back to our hearts.”

“Very profound!” Wild said taking up a glass of milk from the table in the changing room, “It does worry me though, Dray.” Her voice dropped, “I’ve heard things…you know what I’m talking about; the guards have heard her crying and shouting in the libraries and the corridors of the castle - its worrying ponies.”

“I know!” Dray shook his head in irritation, “Bloody hell, I don’t know what’s going on with her, but I don’t think she’s losing her mind if that’s what they’re thinking.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s good for morale.” Wild said with a shrug, “Soldiers talk, Dray.”

“Then let’s give them something to talk about.” The General replied, “Tell them it’s because she’s angry about what the thestrals are doing, tell them she’s planning the next offensive - anything, just don’t let them start conjuring up stories that the Princess has gone insane or we may as well surrender the bloody army now.”

“Can’t you talk to her?” The Major asked hopefully, “She’ll listen to you.”

“I think you’re overestimating how much the Princess confides in me.” Dray grumbled, “Besides, I’m soldier, what the hell do I know about mares?”

“Enough to have two foals!” Wild hissed, “Stop making excuses!”

Dray fixed her with his yellow eyes, “That wasn’t fair, Heather.”

With a gasp of realisation, the Major stepped back, stammering, “I…I’m sorry.”

“Look, forget it, I’m just being cranky…forget I said anything.” Dray smiled at her sadly, “You’re a good friend, Heather.”

“A good friend…” the Major murmured, swallowing her milk.

“I’m sorry?”

“I said, ‘I’m a good friend’.” The red mare walked to the door, “I’ll see you in the morning, General. Good night.”

The door slammed shut, leaving Dray stood like a statue with a look of befuddlement on his face. Mares! Strange creatures, all of them; he didn’t understand them and he doubted he ever would. Not that he actually wanted to of course, but…Honeysuckle…he’d wanted to know her, hadn’t he? He’d loved her, so, so much. Now, he was alone in the world, alone and…well, he wasn’t really was he? Heather was…He closed his eyes and sighed. Dear Goddesses, he didn’t have time for this sort of nonsense. Mares always seemed to find the time though, didn’t they? Nattering on about things, confiding in each other about…wait…WAIT! Dray flung the door open and charged out,

“Heather? HEATHER!”

A red coated face appeared around the corner at the end of the corridor,

“What? What’s going on?”

Dray’s eyes were wide, “Heather, the maid, Celestia’s maid! If anypony knows what’s going on with the princess, it’ll be her!”

“What, you want me to go talk to her?” Wild asked.

“Well…I…”

Major Wild rolled her eyes, “Fine, just leave it to me. You just…go and do ‘Stallion stuff’ or whatever it is males do when they think mares aren’t watching.” With a flick of her tail, Wild trotted off up the main corridor, leaving a shocked grey stallion in her wake.

The elusive maid proved to be rather harder to find than Wild had expected; the castle was a veritable maze of very similar looking corridors, doors and rooms. In her opinion it certainly could do with a little ‘something’ to make it look more homely, rather than the austere stone and wood look. She was just beginning to wonder if it would be best leaving this until the next morning when she nearly walked head first into an orange coated unicorn mare in a maid’s uniform,

“Oh! I’m sorry!” the young maid said, daintily dodging to one side and heading off up the corridor.

Wild froze. It couldn’t be, could it? She span round, “Wait!” The Major called after her, “You wouldn’t happen to be the Princess’s maid by any chance would you?”

“Why, yes,” the orange mare replied, “my name’s Lilly. And you are…?”

“Major Wild, but you can call me Heather.” The red mare smiled warmly, “Lilly, I’m sorry I know you’re busy, but I’d really like to speak with you if I may. It’s very important.”

“I…suppose so.” Lilly looked a little unsure, “I’ve finished for the night actually, but if you can wait a few minutes I’ll just get changed and we can stop off in the kitchen for a cup of tea. It should be quiet enough at this time of night.”

“You’re a mare after my own heart.” Wild said happily. She sighed and sank to her haunches. With luck, Lilly may divulge something that could help them get to the bottom of what was troubling Celestia. If they could, maybe…maybe they could do something to help her. Just what the hell had happened to her while she’d been away?

***********************

Chalk looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel. Bracken had expected this of course, but it didn’t hurt any less. His friend had been raging and shouting for ages, the copious amounts of ale the two of them had consumed before he’d dropped his little nugget of information into the conversation hadn’t exactly helped it go down quite as well as he’d hoped.

“You…you BUCKING IDIOT!” Chalk yelled, nearly upending the table, “What in the name of Celestia were you thinking?!”

“Chalky…I…”

“It’s what that...that monster did to your head, isn’t it? When the Princess and Strata pulled it out of you, it must have sent you round the bend! Oh Goddesses, Brack…what are we going to do now?!”

The black stallion shook his deep blue mane and leaned across the table, his eyes half closed,

“Its not ‘we’, Chalky.”

“I mean, that Strata!” Chalk continued unabated, “That bloody quack, it was probably him! Good Goddesses, he even operated on me! Maybe we’re both nuts!”

“Chalky, shut up for a bloody minute will you, please…” Bracken pleaded.

Chalk stopped in mid-flow and looked at his friend, frowning, “I…Eh? What?”

Bracken groaned, “I said, it’s not ‘We’ it’s ‘Me’. I’m the one who’s signed back up, not you. You have your own life now, and a mare that loves you.”

“Oh for bucks sake, Brack! Is that it?” Chalk waved his forelegs expansively, “You’re jealous? You’ve done this out of spite?”

The black earth pony sat up suddenly and slammed his hooves down on the table, “Don’t bloody flatter yourself! Out of spite? Jealous? Get over yourself, Chalky, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your damned cock!”

Chalk rolled his eyes, “Here we go…”

“YES! Here we go!” Bracken shouted, “I made the decision because I wanted to do something with my life that had some bloody meaning instead of following you like some mindless sheep into suicidal situations!”

“BULL!” Chalk snapped back, “If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be a captive in that maniac’s camp, or worse!”

Bracken’s eyes narrowed, “Your pals nearly split my head in half! And anyway, I wouldn’t have been there in the first place if you hadn’t talked me into your ‘great adventure’ with the bloody army!”

“What a load of bollocks!” Chalk jabbed a hoof at him, “You have a mind of your own, don’t you? You didn’t have to come along, and you also seem to have conveniently forgotten that you were just as into it as I was - so don’t come the martyr with me, Bracken.”

The black pony jumped down from his seat, his mind a roaring torrent of anger. That bloody arse! How dare he, it always about him wasn’t it? Him and his bloody fancy damned…he snarled to himself and trotted to the bar.

“Hey!” Chalk shouted, following him over, “I haven’t finished with you yet!”

Bracken gritted his teeth, “Oh, piss off Chalky”

“What did you say to me?”

“I said PISS OFF!” Bracken span round, rearing up over his friend, “You self righteous, imbecilic, horses cock!”

Chalks fore hoof caught the black pony right under the chin. It wasn’t particularly hard, due in part to the effects of alcohol, but it still enough to send Bracken rolling back into one of the other patrons who yelled in protest. Bracken didn’t notice, his focus now was the self righteous little prig in front of him…Goddess almighty, he had this coming…

Chalk dodged the first blow, but the second, a spinning buck from Bracken’s hind legs, connected, sending him crashing into a table and the drinks upon it spraying over the patrons and himself. Bellows of rage and indignation rose as the soaked and furious customers tried to hit the source of their anger, only to end up hitting one another. It was all too predictable. In moments, half the tavern had erupted into a grand melee, with army ponies setting about each other with anything that came to hoof, and there, in the middle of it all, a white unicorn and a black earth pony battering each other for all they were worth, lost in their own respective worlds.

Bracken was furious. The suffering and pain he’d endured, the loss of Pickles, the confusion of what had happened with Nutmeg and…and…oh Goddess…the Goddess! He couldn’t say anything, he couldn’t do anything - if they found out, they’d hang him as a traitor. Dear Goddess help him, he had to do something, he had to get away! And this was the only way…

Chalk weaved and dodged, blows landing on him from all directions, but by the Goddesses he was going to beat some sense into this foolish pony! If he wouldn’t listen to words then he’d make him listen with his hooves and a damned good thrashing. He was his friend! His best friend in this whole lousy world and now he was going to go off and get himself killed! It wasn’t going to happen…it wasn’t!

The two never heard the whistles from outside, nor the white coated armoured ponies with red and gold tabards grabbing everypony in sight. The two friends simply continued to beat each other to a standstill until, finally, one by one they were felled by a cudgel over the back of the head and hauled outside into the waiting cart.

***********************

Bracken lay on the cell floor, his head feeling like a brass gong was being beaten inside it. Luna’s hairy arse that hurt! Whenever he tried to move he had to concentrate just to stop himself from throwing up, and by the smell in here, he probably already had…or somepony else. It was hard to tell, he couldn’t even open his eyes…

Nearby, Bracken could hear a familiar voice yelling in outrage at somepony, the sound battering into his tortured brain and make him twitch with each word. Bloody hell, his head! He threw his forelegs over his ears, desperately trying to block out the noise, but it was so loud!

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” the female voice shouted, “You’ve signed away your bloody life, that’s what! You’ll be killed and after we’d just got back together too! You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you? Or give me a bloody heart attack! You stupid, stupid fool!”

“Gretel…I’m sorry…”

“YOU’RE SORRY?!” the female bellowed, “You bloody will be when I get my hooves on you!” she clanged her hooves on what sound like metal cell bars, “I’m going to kill you!”

“Miss? That’s enough now.” The voice sounded officiall - probably a guard.

“Yes! You’re damned right it’s enough! I’m going to see the General and get this overturned,” Gretel turned a furious glare on Chalk, “you stupid bucking arse!” Angry hoof steps and loud cursing followed her out as her voice faded, “What the hell I ever saw…”

“Oh Goddesses, I’ve really done it now…”

Bracken hauled himself to the door, “Chalky?” he took a breath, trying to calm his stomach, “What have you done?”

“I signed back up.”

“YOU WHAT?!”

“I couldn’t let you go off on your own, Brack, you’re my friend - you’re like a brother to me.” Chalk’s voice sounded empty, as if he was fighting some inner turmoil, “What sort of friend lets his friend go off to fight alone?”

“This is madness, Chalky,” Bracken sighed, “I can’t believe you…I really can’t.”

“Well…” Chalk replied quietly, “I guess it’s tough.”

Bracken shook his head in exasperation, quickly regretting it and grabbing his head. This wasn’t going to end well. Not at all.

In the Commandants office along the corridor, a furious red mare bore down on the flustered looking desk clerk. The turquoise young stallion in a white, red and gold tabard looked up from his paperwork and returned the stare,

“I keep telling you madam, that Private Dust signed the papers under oath. As a previously serving soldier, he only needs to sign once for another tour of duty.”

“Your papers don’t mean crap” Gretel snapped back, “You can’t expect anypony under the influence of alcohol to make an informed decision like that.”

“It doesn’t matter,” the clerk replied, “he signed the papers and that is that. He will be released from service after a period not exceeding five years.”

“FIVE YEARS!” Gretel bellowed, “Not on your bloody life mister! I’m getting him out of here whether you like it or not.”

“Madam!” the clerk announced, “If you do not desist in your behaviour I will have you thrown in the cells.”

“You just try it, you damned lubber and I’ll forget about the trade agreement I have with the Princess.” She leaned across the table, “You do NOT want to make an enemy out of me.”

“And you do not want to make a deserter out of Private Dust, Madam.” The clerk replied levelly, “If he does not fulfil his obligation to Equestria, he will be hunted down and executed. Do I make myself clear?”

“I’ll make myself clear on your carcase, you smartarse desk jockey.” Gretel hissed, “Now, either give me those papers or get General Dray out here, NOW!”

“General Dray is in a meeting with the princess and cannot be disturbed.”

The red mare snorted, “Yeah? We’ll see about that!”

Gretel was incandescent with rage, her mind a whirling mass of emotions, the chief of which was the desire to tan Chalk’s pristine white arse until it glowed like the setting sun. That damned fool of a pony! Drunk as a skunk and chasing after that other irresponsible idiot, Bracken, the two were an inseparable pair of trouble makers -fighting each other in a tavern and then spending the rest of the night in the cells after the provost caught them. Chalk and Bracken had been beaten black and blue; whether by themselves, other drunken revellers or even the provost guards it didn’t matter. They were nothing more than a pair of damned idiots! Gretel felt like screaming she was so furious with them. Fortunately, Dray would be able to sort this mess out, and then that little bugger was going to catch it from her. He wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week!

The Captains hooves clattered over the cobbles as she headed to the castle proper, entered the front gate and into the interior. There were guards everywhere now and new recruits by the score, including numerous that had a hard look about them - ones who looked for all the world like they’d seen things nopony was ever meant to see. She didn’t ever want to see that look on Chalky’s face, to see it in his eyes - it was…frightening. Doc and Strata trotted along behind her, the now inseperable duo that had somehow become a regular fixture, and a good counterbalance to her more ‘emotional’ outbursts. She snorted. The Doc could be infuriatingly logical and preachy, whereas Strata could be a right pain in the arse. Still, he was quite accomplished when it came to magic, she’d give him that. Maybe one day she’d get around to asking him about his past, but to her it didn’t really matter. Why should it? She could never understand some ponies obsession with having answers to absolutely everything, and come to think of it, that was Strata in a nutshell…he always ‘had’ to know!

“HALT!”

The two golden armoured guards crossed their spears before Gretel’s nose, their blue eyes sparkling in the daylight filtering through the stained glass windows above. On the subject of light, she saw them in a very different one now that she’d seen them without the magical ‘colour changing’ effect that their armour had. Beneath it, these two were probably as dull as ditchwater. Gretel smiled from the corner of her mouth,

“Out of the way boys, I’m here on business.”

“The Princess and the General are not to be disturbed.” One of the guards glowered at her, “By anypony”.

Gretel raised an eyebrow, “I’m not just ‘anypony’, bucko, I’m Captain Gretel of the Amethyst Fleet and I demand to see the General…NOW!”

“No.”

The Captain took a breath, her hoof twitching towards her sword,

“Let...Me…Through!”

The situation was rapidly beginning to escalate and Doc quickly jumped in between the guards and the red coated mare,

“Please, everypony, this isn’t a way.” He lifted his eyes to the tall guard, “Sir, General Dray will want to see us. I cannot impress upon you enough just how important this is to the safety and security of Equestria.” He nodded to the other guard respectfully, “Please, we can wait for the General and the Princess to finish, as you stated, however I fear that Equestria…may not.”

The guards exchanged glances, until one of them, apparently taking the mental short straw, turned to the door and knocked quietly. It opened a crack, a voice whispering out,

“What is it?”

“Captain Gravel and a couple of ponies to see the General,” the guard whispered in reply, “they said it’s about the future of Equestria or something.”

“Captain who?” the voice asked.

The guard shrugged, “Buggered if I know, just let him know she’s here, you know, just in case.”

“Bloody hell fire…” The voice sounded exasperated, “Alright, just ask them to wait a minute.”

Gretel sputtered in indignation as she was politely, if rather firmly, guided to a cushioned bench beneath a large tapestry depicting a desert scene. Doc held his hoof up, shushing the Captain while her temper simmered just below the surface. Strata on the other hoof couldn’t sit still and was quickly up and about rushing from tapestry to tapestry muttering over the depictions of scenes and battles from long ago. It didn’t take long for the obligatory note pad and quill to appear as he began taking copious notes while muttering constantly to himself.

“He never stops, does he.” Gretel said quietly, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Not really,” Doc smiled, “he’s a mine of information too.”

The Captain groaned, “I just wish he had more that one speed…”

Doc chuckled, “True.” He yawned expansively, “How do you think Stock and Cyclone will be getting on? It’s a new ship, a new command and, in some respects, a new crew.”

“I think they’ll be fine.” Gretel replied, “Something we both know about sky galleons Doc, is that the mood of the ship rubs off on the crew. Those two are head over hooves for each other and the Wind Wraith knows it. Happy Captain…”

“-Happy crew.” Doc finished.

He closed his eyes and listened to the muted voices coming from beyond the door,

“Don’t think it’ll be long now.”

******************************

“You had no right to intrude in my personal affairs, General, even if you did so by proxy and for the right reasons.”

Celestia was virtually glowing with indignation. Dray on the other hoof, stood tall and proud, unshaking in the angry onslaught of his Princess,

“Your Majesty, you understand why though, don’t you? Your troops can see you are unhappy and they can sense your distress which will affect their morale.”

“Of course I understand that!” Celestia replied irritably, “But what am I to do, General? Become an emotionless lump of stone in case somepony thinks, Gods forbid, that I actually have feelings?”

Dray shook his head, “Nopony expects you to be empty, Your Majesty, it’s one of the reasons they love you as they do, but if you continue to keep everything bottled up inside how can we know what’s wrong? How can we help you?”

“What is wrong, General, is private.” The Princess retorted, “That means it is NOT for discussion. I appreciate your concern, but in the same way that I don’t go poking my muzzle into your relationship with Major Wild, I therefore expect the same courtesy in return.”

“My…what?” Dray suddenly felt his face flush, “I don’t…”

“Oh don’t play games, General, we all see it.” Celestia sniffed, tossing her mane, “The two of you are obviously involved with one another, and why not? So long as it doesn’t affect your working relationship, I see no harm in what you two do in your spare time.”

“Wh…what we do?” Dray was lost for words, his mind reeling.

“General Dray, I am old enough to be your ancestor. I think I know a little more about what stallions and mares do in private without having to spell it out for you, do I?” Celestia rolled her eyes, “Now, as for…”

A commotion at the end of the throne room caught her attention,

“What’s going on?”

One of the court ushers trotted up and bowed respectfully,

“Your Majesty, General Dray, I beg that you forgive the intrusion, however there appears to be a ‘Captain Gravel’ here to see you. I understand the matter to be described as urgent, although I shall of course ask them to wait should you so desire.”

The Princess cocked her head, “Do you know a Captain Gravel?”

Dray shook his head, trying to regain his train of thought, “It, er…it could be one of Ochre’s old officers.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow, “We will continue this conversation later, General, however…” The Princess took a breath and lowered her voice, “I understand your concerns.”

Dray sighed in relief, “Don’t blame Lilly, Princess, please. It was my fault.”

The white alicorn watched the doors open impassively, “It was entirely your fault General.” She watched the small procession enter and groaned, “Yet it would appear we have other concerns to deal with now.”

Gretel walked along the deep carpet, the trappings of the royal court no longer holding any particular interest for her. Not the stained glass windows, not even the golden torch brackets that flickered with their magical blue flame even in the daylight. No…the grey stallion was here, him and the Princess. She would see to it that at least one of these two sorted out this mess before she ended up banging their heads together.

Celestia smiled, “Ah, the mysterious Captain Gravel, I presume?”

“Humph!” Gretel snorted, “I would get new guards if I were you, Celestia, if they can’t even remember something as simple as somepony’s name.”

The Princess smiled in reply, “How may we help you Captain? I understand that this is urgent?”

“You’re damned right it’s urgent!” The Captain announced, ignoring the warning waves from Doc, “That idiot Bracken has signed up again and Chalky has followed him like the imbecile he is.” She fixed Dray with a glare, “I want it voided, Dray, now.”

The General frowned, “Voided? I don’t understand, Captain, why would the two of them join up when they wanted to leave the army? Besides, Chalk Dust has joined your crew, hasn’t he?”

“He was pissed as a fart, that’s why!” Gretel snapped, “Not to mention beaten half senseless by your provost thugs. Who knows what was going through his head?” She glanced back at Doc and then rounded on the Princess, “And another thing, how come recruitment papers are being passed around the drunk tank? Are you aware this is happening, Princess? That’s effectively press ganging.”

Celestia brows drew down, “General Dray? I wasn’t aware of this.”

The General shook his head, “Neither was I, Your Majesty.” He turned to Captain Gretel, “I will look into this matter, Captain. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’ll put a stop to it.”

“Good! I should bloody well think so too.” Gretel replied with a toss of her mane, “Then you’ll send the order to let Chalky out of the prison then?”

Dray waved to a guard, who trotted up dutifully. “Go with Captain Gretel to the holding cells and have the unicorn, Chalk Dust released,” Dray ordered, “and his friend Bracken too.” He shook his head, “Just, try and keep him out of any more trouble, Captain? I have enough to do without dealing with drunk ponies.”

“Oh, I’ll be dealing with him alright!” she replied with a sniff.

Celestia sighed quietly to herself. She didn’t need this right now; there was so much to do and now her nightly obsession with trying to re-open the portal and the way it was all affecting her was starting to cause concern about the court - she was beginning to find herself at her wits end. The Princess levitated up a glass of water and sipped at it thoughtfully. If only some of the old mages were here: the ones who had taught her as she grew up. They were incredible, their knowledge so deep and complex it actually left her feeling rather inadequate, despite having such an extensive library. If only she’d spent more time studying rather than dealing with the endless drudgery of administration! She paused: something had caught her eye…

Celestia quietly watched the indigo unicorn as he stared up at the stained glass windows with a look of awe. It was him…he was the one who’d helped with the black stallion on the ship. His magic was powerful, and strange too…she hadn’t seen its like since the days of…of…the Crystal Empire! Watching him, he seemed to detect her inquisitive gaze and gave her a cheeky smile and a wave. She lifted her hoof to wave back and suddenly caught herself,

“You!” she called, “Strata, wasn’t it?”

The unicorn stallion bobbed his head, “That’s right Your Majesty, at your service.”

“Excellent.” She felt a thrill run through her, “I would like to speak with you this evening good sir, if you would be so kind.”

Strata glanced at Gretel who nodded her assent before he bowed to the Princess,

“It would be my pleasure, Your Majesty.”

Celestia smiled and watched the strange party of friends leave. They were all so different, each one of them with their own distinct personality and yet always able get on with one another from what she’d seen of them. She chuckled to herself. That Strata was an odd one! He reminded her of somepony she’d known once - always springing around and in a near constant state of excitement. Every age had one.

She raised her hoof, “General Dray?”

“Your Majesty?”

“Please tell me you didn’t have anything to do with press ganging.”

Dray shook his head,

“I assure you Your Majesty, I had no idea this was happening, however I will put a stop to it. The last thing we need is ponies frightened to enlist to our cause.”

Celestia sighed and walked back up to her throne, “I trust you General. I don’t believe you would stoop to such methods, no matter how dire the situation. But please, do what you need to do to bring this to an end. Now, I shall need to prepare myself to deal with our lost and found nobility.”

“Do you think they will be willing to aid us?” Dray asked.

The Princess gave a wry smile, “Diplomacy was what I was brought up with, General. I learned very early on, that if the carrot does not work, then there is always the stick.” She shook her head sadly, “In this case, the threat of Nightmare Moon makes a very effective stick.”

The General bowed, “Then if you will excuse me, Your Majesty…”

Celestia nodded.

Trotting out of the castle, Dray fumed inwardly. This wasn’t how ponies did things! Press ganging? Good Goddesses, what where they thinking? And as the commanding officer it reflected on him too. He would have to deal with this quickly, and have the idiot responsible suitably chastised. Fortunately it wasn’t far to the provosts office, and in short order he was trotting up the steps to the main door of the low grey building. The outside was fairly plain stonework, with two of the red and gold tabard wearing soldiers standing either side of the dark oak door as the only splash of colour. They snapped to attention as the General walked in.

“Good morning, General Dray, how can I help you?”

Dray returned the salute to the pony behind the desk, “You have recruitment papers belonging to Private Chalk Dust, yes?”

“Uh…yes, Sir, right here.” The pony produced a sheath of papers from his desk drawer.

“Is the provost marshal in his office?”

The clerk looked flustered, “Why, yes. He…”

“-Good, then bring those papers with you and come with me.”

With a thump, Dray shoved the doors open and stormed inside. He wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries; in fact he wasn’t in a pleasant mood at all. All that work, all that preparation, and it could be undone by the thoughtless acts of some bloody overzealous idiot. Somepony was going to be in for it today.

***********************

Amidst the library’s endless shelves of dusty tomes, the memories of happier days Celestia had spent there with her sister came back to her. She smiled sadly, running her hoof along the tapestries, the long shelves, the places they played as foals. There still, were the special hiding places they’d found where they could avoid the stern eyes of their governess, the secret passages that she loved to play in and could appear like magic wherever she pleased to frighten the life out of the staff. It had been a wonderful time…a happy time. By the Gods…it was so long ago. How many lives of ponies had she lived now? It barely seemed to register with her any more; their brief sparks of existence, here today and gone tomorrow, as insubstantial as smoke. She closed her eyes, feeling tears welling up and fought them down. She couldn’t afford to let her emotions overtake her again; the result of that had culminating in Dray asking her maid for information. As much as it rankled, she couldn’t stay angry with him, or Lilly for that matter, it was, after all, her own behaviour that was frightening them. This wasn’t good; it had to be dealt with and with the Gods on her side, tonight might be the night.

The indigo unicorn stallion was deep in thought. She’d not seen him like this before, so…studious. Usually an overly energetic fellow, the magical creature was studying the books and notes with an intensity that gave her hope, and hope was something she desperately needed.

“Your Majesty,” Strata began, “This library is…simply incredible.” He looked around in wonder, “The knowledge accumulated here…”

Celestia smiled, “I know, master unicorn, but please…” she indicated the books on the table, “Is there anything here you can use to help you re-open the portal?”

Strata hung his head, “Maybe…with years of study and practice.” He looked up at her, his face pained, “Your Majesty, I was born with a gift for studying rare and unusual magics, but this, these ‘portals’, they utilise a type of magic I would doubt anypony alive understands anymore.” He shook his head, “This goes back to the beginning of Equestria, back before even the Crystal Empire. I wish I could help, I really do…”

The Princess looked away for a moment, fighting down the emotions surging through her before turning back to him,

“Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain? What if you took another look at the portal?”

“I don’t know what I’m looking at!” Strata said slightly louder than he intended, “This magic is like nothing I’ve ever seen! If I make a mistake, if I make an error, I could do something catastrophic that could lead to the destruction of our world!”

Celestia lifted a hoof in surprise, “The destruction of our world?”

“Yes!” Strata replied, scrubbing his head, “That’s what these books warn about almost constantly: that by opening an unstable portal, it could smash the two adjoining worlds into one another and cause something called a ‘cascade paradox effect’ - and I don’t even know what that means!”

“But I used a portal spell to escape my pursuers!” Celestia argued, banging a hoof on the book in front of her, “And here I am, very much alive. So it would appear your prophesies of doom may be somewhat exaggerated, don’t you think Mister Strata?”

“You used alicorn magic, Your Majesty,” Strata said fidgeting with his mane, “it’s different to anything I’m used to and it’s entirely possible that the spell you used was one with a specific purpose, that being, to transport you out of trouble to a place your enemy could not pursue.”

Celestia shook her head in frustration, “So why can’t I simply create the same portal again? Why won’t the stone portal open? I don’t understand this! None of it is making any sense!”

Strata closed the book and looked up at the Princess, “I don’t know for certain, Your Majesty, and I’m only speculating, but it seems to me that something or somepony has deliberately blocked the portal here in the castle. As for the spell you used yourself to travel to the other world, without knowledge of the co-ordinates of where you went, you could end up anywhere.”

“I know…” Celestia gritted her teeth, her eyes squeezed shut in her grief, “I’ve tried replicating the spell time and time again, but it just won’t work….nothing works…”

Strata shook his head. Something was bothering him about this, something that he’d heard while visiting the remains of an Empire outpost some years ago, but what was it? Damn it! At the time it hadn’t seemed relevant, but…

The Princess turned towards the door,

“Thank you, Strata, you can go now.”

“Huh?” the indigo unicorn looked up, “But, Princess, I can keep…”

“-No.” Celestia gave him a nudge with her muzzle, “It’s alright dear Strata, you’ve done all you can, and the hour is late. I fear that what I want is beyond the skills of any in this world.”

“Oh.” Strata hung his head, his eyes downcast, “I’m sorry…”

The Princess chuckled, “It’s alright. Now, go on, off you go. You have friends waiting for you.”

Bowing, the unicorn hesitantly left the room, his expression one of defeat and confusion. He’d tried his best, even uncovered things Celestia had never thought to look at before when it came to these sorts of magics. She’d sought the help of everypony she could think of, and young Strata had been her last hope…her last…She took a breath and stared up at the ceiling. Gods, how she wanted to cry, but what was the point? How many tears had she shed already? Nopony was listening, nopony could help her - she could only scream and rage silently to an uncaring world. ‘Uncaring’…Cold realisation surged through her veins - this was Fate’s doing. That old hag, the impassive creature that mother had introduced her to when she was just a foal and had predicted…by the Gods…she had, hadn’t she? She’d predicted this! The Princess could feel the magic beginning to well inside her, bringing her anger and fury to a boil. She couldn’t let that evil monster win, not now! She would strike down Nightmare Moon, send her forces to the next world and then she would find a way to open this portal. If not to find Rush, then to the world of the Gods, to the Eternal Herd, and from there she would find the old mare…Fate. She smiled grimly to herself; she would teach the old witch a lesson she would never forget.

There was a knock at the door.

“Yes?”

“Your Majesty?” It was one of the castle guards, “General Dray had sent a message, he says to tell you ‘We are ready’.”

Smiling, the Princess bowed her head, “Good. Tell the General I will meet him in the throne room shortly.”

Celestia stretched her wings and settled them back by her sides as she walked. Perhaps a change of pace would help to clear her mind and allow her to look again at the problem from a new perspective. She was all too aware how sometimes she would just thrown herself at a problem without first taking a step back and simply clearing her mind, giving herself the space and time she needed to think. ‘Emotion’…Her mother had warned her of how it could cloud your judgement, and she had certainly been right about that. Anyway, now was not the time for introspection. Now was the time to do what must be done. She shook her mane, sending rippling patterns of stars and colour roiling through it in the magical flow of her homeland.

Now was the time for action.

Inside the throne room General Dray was already waiting, together with several officers who bowed and left, leaving only the two of them together. Celestia’s heart was steady, her mind focussed - any distractions had to be put to one side for now. Settling herself into her throne, she nodded to the grey stallion who bowed respectfully and walked towards her, his golden armour shining in the light from the torches. He looked every part the veteran warrior, an officer and leader of ponies. She knew she had made the right choice.

“Your Majesty.” Dray bowed again, formally.

Lifting her head, Celestia could feel the electricity in the air, the sense of change and anticipation. Now…now was their time. She bobbed her head,

“General Dray, report.”

************************

The rigging creaked in the wind as the sails just started to catch the early morning breeze. The sun was beautiful today, illuminating the underside of the clouds and making the whole horizon glow with a deep orange-red hue. Gretel clopped Salty on the shoulder as she headed towards her cabin,

“I’m going to grab five minutes, Salty. Give me a shout when we’re ready to leave.”

“Aye, aye Cap’n.”

She opened the door and walked into the darkened interior. It was incredible how the sunlight could make everything in here look so different, even the outline of the unicorn sitting there as he looked wistfully out at the river.

Chalk didn’t seem the same as she remembered somehow. It was as if the fire, the life within him she loved so much, were dulled somehow. It worried her but he she knew he would be fine, in time. After all, it wasn’t like he’d never see Bracken again, was it? Soldiers had leave, and they could meet up. Of course, once this whole blasted mess was over then they could…could what? It wasn’t like Bracken liked ships was it? He hated them! Goddess damn it, was she jealous of that stallion? She gritted her teeth and poured out a brandy while Chalk just stood there like a spectre, the black shape outlined in the bright orange sunlight.

“Chalky, I know you’re upset about leaving Bracken behind, but we’ll be back soon.” Gretel knocked back the spirit and began taking off her hat and coat, “We’ll only be away for a week, no longer than that.”

“The army’s moving out.” Chalk said quietly, “They’ll be gone by the time we get back.”

Gretel paused and looked up, “He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?”

“We grew up together.” Chalk replied.

She felt her chest tighten suddenly, “You love him, don’t you.”

Chalk sniffed, “Not the way I love you, but yes. He’s like a brother to me, and I love my family.”

“I…I don’t suppose I really understand,” Gretel said walking over to the window beside him, “Mother and I were never close, not until the end. I had no siblings and dad, well…he was dad.”

“You loved him though, didn’t you?” Chalk asked.

“Hmph! Maybe I did.” Gretel shook her head, gazing out of the window, “In my own way, I guess…” The Captain’s words faded away, leaving an eerie silence in the cabin before Chalk spoke,

“Gretel?”

The Captain gasped as the unicorn moved in close to her, his eyes gleaming brightly, his muzzle so close to her that her heart began to race.

“I love you more than anything in this world, even more than life itself. I would gladly give you everything…” the white unicorn kissed her on the muzzle, “everything…” he closed his eyes and leaned his head against her, “If you want, if you ask me to, I’ll follow you.”

Gretel’s heart felt like it would burst. Dear Goddess, she was going to take him from his friend, his best friend, the one who had been there with him through thick and thin, and why? Because she wanted him, that was why! Because he was hers! But…but was it right, to do this? If anything happened to Bracken, Chalk might never forgive her. He may never say it, but it would be there within him, unspoken, eating away at his heart little by little, consuming her beautiful unicorn stallion until he were no more than a shell of the one she’d fallen in love with. She didn’t want that for him. Gretel gritted her teeth and bit back a sob,

“Chalky…” she pushed him away, “Go to him.”

He looked back at her, his face a mask of confusion.

“I…”

Gretel shook her head, tears welling in her eyes, “Don’t leave him behind; go to him. When this is over…”

Chalk stepped back, his eyes blinking, “Gretel, I don’t want…I’m not sure I…”

“Just go!” Gretel gave him a shove towards the door, “Get your gear and get out before I have you thrown overboard, damn you!”

“A…Aye…” Suddenly spurred into action, Chalk grabbed his kit and found himself reaching for the door in a state of absolute confusion. He hesitated, turning back to her,

“Gretel…”

She had her back to him, “Chalky.” She said authoritatively, “You are dismissed.”

“Aye, aye, Captain”

Gretel felt the door shut, heard the latch click into place, and closed her eyes. Damn it…it was so quiet in here, she could even hear her tears dropping onto the timbers. Amy was calling to her gently; she was there…she knew. By the Goddess she needed a friend, maybe even family, but Amy…Amy was both. Shaking, Gretel let go, allowing her consciousness to drift away to the world she shared with her ship.

Chapter Forty Two - The Threads of Life

CHAPTER FORTY TWO

THE THREADS OF LIFE

The cave was cold, bitterly cold in fact. Chalk’s horn gave a good amount of light, but its glow was creating long wavering shadows that did little to help calm Bracken’s already unsettled emotional state. That bloody thing outside, what it had done to the minds…dear Goddess help them, this was a nightmare. He’d heard stories about such creatures when he was a foal, but he never thought that they actually existed – until River Valley. The wendigo he remembered from the tales were like some sort of emotional vampire: sucking your feelings from you and feeding on them, which certainly fit in with what was outside the cave, but…this one was different from the wendigo he’d seen on the battlefield. This thing was more…he searched for a word…’primitive’? Was that it? He wasn’t sure, but what he was sure of was that he wanted to put as much ground between it and them as quickly as equinely possible.

They trudged on, their hoof steps echoing along the icy walls, the chill biting into their fur and even making their lungs burn. Chalk peered into the darkness ahead,

“Hey Brack, you don’t think there are, y’know, other things living in here do you?”

The black pony shook his head, “Your guess is as good as mine, dude, but I’ve got my crossbow ready, I’ll tell you that much.” He looked at the walls and floor, “Honestly, I don’t think anything with any sense would be out here.”

“Like us, eh?” Chalk grinned.

Bracken laughed, “Ha! You get that right. I keep thinking my nuts have frozen off.”

Chalk paused, his hoof beginning to twitch. It was so cold, what if…what if they had? Oh, Goddesses! He wanted to check, but…

“Brack?”

He friend groaned, “They’re still there, in case you’re wondering.”

“Oh.” Chalk coughed, “Um…thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Bracken said rolling his eyes, “Just pull your bloody cloak over your arse will you? It’s bad enough being stuck in here without a full moon right in front my nose.”

Chalk used his magic to give his cloak a quick tug, the fabric dropping back into place. Damn it all, it was so cold he hadn’t even felt it rucking up under his armour. He snorted, trying to clear the ice crystals from his nostrils. They had to find a way out of here sooner or later, and as far as he was concerned, whether they found this Starswirl the Bearded fellow or not, they were getting the hell out of these mountains before they froze to death. Damn that bloody officer! He should have poisoned the miserable sod instead.

Bracken’s ears twitched. There was a movement in the air, it was barely perceptible, but there was definitely a faint breeze coming from just ahead. He went to speak to Chalk but the unicorn had already noticed it, his pace picking up as he arrowed straight for the source of their potential salvation. They found it quickly enough: it was little more than a crack, not in the rock wall, but in a solid block of ice and snow. If they dug at it, with a little time and effort, hopefully they’d be able to get out of here! Bracken shook his head at Chalk’s questioning look. As excited as he was to get out of here, they had to be careful - they didn’t have any idea just how much snow and ice lay above them. Snorting loudly, Bracken rubbed his hooves together. This was the domain of the earth pony, the ones who could listen to, and feel the earth around them. The walls, the rock, the ice, and even the snow, they were all part of nature, a part of their world. He closed his eyes and listened: feeling, reaching for the warmth of the sunlight and tracing the contours of the obstruction in the wall. Bracken finally nodded to himself, gently moving Chalk out of the way as he backed up, giving him a wink,

“And for my next trick…”

The black stallion’s buck was right on target. With just the right amount of applied forced, the rock and ice cracked and fell away, forming a ramp down into the tunnel with just enough room for them to wriggle out into the sunlight beyond. Best of all, there was no wind here, and no strange howling sounds either. He reached in to Chalk and hauled the relieved looking unicorn out into the light where the two of them gratefully shook off the snow.

“You okay?” he asked.

Chalk shook his head, “Let’s not keep doing this eh?” he groaned, “I think we’ve done our bit, Brack. There’s no bloody wizard out here, and theres sure as hell no other reason for us to be here other than for that crap house Fry sending us out to become frozen corpses.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Bracken looked about at the endless nothingness of the mountains, “The question is, which way is back?”

The landscape was bleak, the endless fields of white snow occasionally interspersed with the grey of rocks, probably fallen from the mountains high above. There were no trees, no birds, no nothing. Bracken pulled out his compass,

“This way home my friend.”

Chalk was busy brushing the snow from his coat, “Which way’s that?”

“South” Bracken replied, “I don’t give a monkeys where, so long as it’s warmer than this frozen hell.”

“What, you don’t like holidaying in the mountains?” Chalk chuckled.

Bracken shrugged, “Mountains are for yaks, dude, and they’re bloody well welcome to ‘em.”

Chalk headed off with his friend along the rocky terrain, smiling. It felt good to have a direction at last, even if it did have a rather dubious destination. Worse, was that they were more than likely in hostile territory, looking for some guy nopony had ever heard of. More than once he’d found himself wishing he’d stayed…stayed with…He shook his head - No! No, Bracken was his friend, and there was no question here, no question at all. That bloody wendigo must have muddled his mind worse than he thought. Either that or he was going into hypothermic shock. Bloody mountains…

The wind had dropped to almost nothing now, the sky above them a pristine crystalline blue and looked so pure with the sun shining brightly, it was really quite beautiful. They’d been travelling for hours, but now the light was fading quickly as late afternoon approached. Chalk shrugged to himself; so much for their original plans to find Gretel in the mountains! What bloody madness had made them think that would have ever worked? He snorted. Yeah, what ‘idiot’ would have ever come up with that one? Letting out a sigh, he adjusted his kit and concentrated on putting one hoof in front of another, keeping his distance from Bracken and…

“Ow! Bloody hell, Brack, don’t just stop like that with no warning!”

Bracken was stood like a statue, staring off into the distance. His face was set, his body as rigid as the mountains themselves as he focussed on the movement in the snow.

“Damn…” Chalk sank to the ground, keeping his voice low, “What do you reckon it is?”

Bracken shook his head, “Pony, I think.”

“Out here?”

“Don’t know,” the black pony replied quietly, “but it’s not a thestral I don’t think - too small.”

Chalk kept as still as possible, “What now then? Should we follow it?”

“I want to see if the things friendly first,” Bracken whispered, “After our friend with the pixies, i’m a little reluctant to trust strangers.”

The two moved forward, keeping low and in single file. This time, Chalk took the lead. His eyes weren’t as keen as Bracken’s, but his colouring allowed him to blend into their surroundings. It helped too that their armour was covered in their grey-brown cloaks and the rest of their gear partly concealed by the surrounding snow. From a distance, the two ponies look like little more than part of the scenery. The figure in the distance didn’t appear to have noticed them either, as whoever, or whatever it was, walked along as though they were almost gliding across the snow. Keeping pace with it was rapidly becoming an issue.

“Chalky, you know, I’m not so sure that thing really is a pony after all,” Bracken hissed, “look at the speed it’s moving.”

“I know,” Chalk replied, keeping his gaze locked on the thing, “but if it’s going for shelter, we could sure as hell do with some too. We could end up freezing to death out here otherwise.”

Bracken shook his head in dismay. Chalk was right, but whatever this thing was, he was keeping himself alert just in case, and his crossbow to hoof. The memory of what that vile stallion Brindle did to them, the way they’d followed him so trustingly like sheep into what could have been an unimaginable end, would often enter his dreams in the depths of night. He hadn’t dreamt of the Princess in a while either, not since he’d met Nutmeg, and that in itself was another source of humiliation and self loathing wasn’t it? He’d awoken in the morning to find the young mare dismissive of him and completely disinterested, as though he were nothing more than a stranger, or more specifically, an unwanted guest. He’d left, wandering the capital until he’d found himself at the barracks. Good Goddess, he’d just walked in, signed the papers, and walked out, as simple as that. Five years in the service of the Princess and Equestria…but it wasn’t really for that reason though was it? He really just wanted…actually, what did he want? To forget? Yes…yes, he supposed he did really. Bracken snorted. What a time to be thinking about things like that!

“Psst!” Chalk had stopped and was hunkering down, “Brack! Theres something up ahead, look!”

“What?” Bracken whispered, trying to see past Chalk, “I can’t…oh, hell yes!”

The distant figure was heading for what was quite clearly a settlement or village of some kind. Whatever it was, was certainly sparse and looked to be little more than an assemblage of around a dozen or so low wooden buildings so covered in snow as to be nearly invisible from a distance. But at this angle, parts of the low walls were becoming clearer and woodsmoke was visible rising lazily from several chimneys. Bracken’s heart leapt, it was salvation! Food, warmth and…

A shriek cut through the landscape, followed by a loud animal roar of anger. Up ahead, the creature they’d been following had suddenly vanished, leaving only their tracks through the snow to mark their passing. Chalk looked back to Bracken, his eyes wide,

“Come on!”

“Chalky! Don’t just…” Bracken gritted his teeth, “Oh, For Luna’s sake!”

The two jumped up and charged through the snow, hurtling down through the white cloying material, their momentum only adding speed to their descent; their attempt to reach the source of the distress however, was rapidly becoming a problem in itself as the landscape was frighteningly deceptive. Running hard, Bracken and Chalk quickly found themselves all but rolling and falling down an increasingly steep slope - the only way to avoid falling seemed to be to keep up by running ever faster. Bracken’s heart was pounding in his chest like a hammer; at some point he knew he was going to have to throw himself over onto his side to arrest his descent, the very real possibility of falling into a ravine at the bottom of this slope all to clear in his mind’s eye. Damn this snow, all he could see was white! In front of him, Chalk ploughed on, his kit, packs and blanket bouncing along as he…disappeared.

Bracken yelled in fright as the ground abruptly dropped away from under him and he found himself falling, tumbling head over heels down a steep slope, the rocks and snow beneath biting into his exposed body as fell. Army training kicked in, and he tucked in his legs, making himself as tight a ball as he could. A break out here with no medical help could be fatal, and only the Goddess knew if help would ever find them, or even if they would bother looking. His stomach lurched as the physical ground fell away completely and he found himself dropping through nothing but air. Fear and adrenalin coursed through his body; this was it, this was the end… He’d wind up as nothing more than a broken and bloodied frozen heap, buried in the snow on some forgotten mountain range, taken away from this life by…

He slammed bodily into something large - a warm, furry ‘something’. Whatever it was, it was big, big and angry, letting out a deafening roar right in his ear. Bracken kicked out reflexively finding, to his surprise, that his body was still very much intact - if battered and bruised. Shaking the snow off himself, he reached for his crossbow as a large pair of glistening red eyes in a face full of teeth and naked aggression glare at him. Whatever it was, it was angry…very angry.

Desperately, Bracken tried to get his crossbow free, but the fall had hopelessly twisted all his gear to the point where he couldn’t reach it, and his sword was jammed somewhere near his hind leg too. He had two choices: buck the damned thing as hard as he could and run, or just…run, hoping that thing wouldn’t be on him, rending him into small pieces before he could regain his own senses. Damn it all! Even if he wanted to run, Chalk would no doubt be nearby and there was no way he was leaving his friend to this monstrous…whatever it was. He span, slamming his hooves into…thin air…

“Bit slow, buddy,” Chalk said, gasping for air as he reached his friend’s side. He was holding an unloaded crossbow in the glow of his magic, “nearly had you for dinner eh?”

“Ch..Chalky? Good Goddess…” Bracken gulped in air, trying to slow his heartrate down, “You okay?”

Chalk’s brows pulled down and he blinked,

“Um…no?”

Bracken pulled himself up looked round at his friend. He was battered, his kit lying in the snow near to a pile of what looked to be rags and…

“Oh Goddess, no…” Bracken felt his heart sink as he took in the sight of Chalk’s hind leg. It was broken, and badly by the looks of it. This wasn’t happening, none of it was! It was a nightmare, a bloody nightmare he’d wake up from and he’d be back in that cave, but…but Chalky looked like he was in pain and trying to put a brave face on it too as usual. What the hell was he going to do?! With a grunt, he began pulling off his hopeless twisted gear and searched for the first aid kit.

“I don’t think that’s…g…going to help, dude,” Chalk gasped, “I…I think I’m…”

“Shut up!” Bracken near shouted, “Don’t you dare talk crap like that! I’m going to do something, even if I have to drag you out of here.” He began searching through his packs, finding only items suitable for cuts and sprains, not breaks. Dear Goddess in her bloody heaven, he had to think of something! Quickly, he found some pain killers, several minty tablets that warned of ‘not exceeding’ whatever it was, but right then it was at least something that would help. Helping Chalk down them with some water, Bracken looked for something they could use as a splint - anything would do, so long as it did the job. He didn’t hear the shouts behind him until a spear point was waved in front of his face.

“Don’t move, Celestian, if you value your life.”

Bracken froze, looking up into the face of a dark grey and brown stallion with chocolate brown eyes, heavily cloaked against the cold. Was he the one they’d been following? Bracken’s eyes flicked towards the movement to his side, revealing several more of the cloaked figures who appeared to be investigating the bundle of rags which turned out to be…oh no…a young colt…

Bracken swallowed, “Is he?”

The stallion didn’t look round, “Lucky for you, no, the boy is hurt but alive.”

Another of the cloaked ponies walked up and addressed the first one,

“Jal, the elder will want to see these two. One has a broken leg and is little threat to us.”

“Celestians?” The first stallion snarled, “You deal with them then, Hesta.”

‘Jal’ turned away, shouldering his spear and walked off leaving the others who quickly surrounded Chalk. A mare, by the looks of her, approached Bracken, her yellow eyes gleaming in the light from the setting sun,

“You can walk?” she asked.

“I…yes, yes I can,” Bracken said, nodding, “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me Celestian,” the mare replied rather abruptly, “pick up your equipment and follow me. The elder will want to see you.”

“But, Chalky, my friend…”

“The unicorn?” The mare gave a low nicker, “The marked one will also be brought before the elder.”

Bracken picked himself up and collected his gear, “Who are you?”

“If you have the energy to ask questions, then you have the strength to walk.” The mare replied as if quoting a saying of some sort. She nodded towards Chalk who was being placed in a sling held between two of the cloaked ponies. He looked pale, not easy when your coat’s already white. Bracken was worried, but at least they weren’t just leaving him here. The young one, the one they’d rather fortuitously ‘helped’, in a manner of speaking, was being helped along by another of the cloaked ponies.

“Hesta!” one of them called, “What are we doing about the Yarra?”

“Leave it for now,” the mare with Bracken shouted back, “we’ll come back later. It will feed us well.”

“F…feed? You ponies eat meat?” Bracken blurted out in shock.

“You would prefer to starve to death, Celestian?” Hesta replied loftily, “Then be my guest.”

Bracken felt a shiver run through him. He shouldn’t really be interacting too much with these ponies - it wasn’t what he’d been taught in training. ‘If captured, keep your mouth shut’, and that was about it really. It didn’t quite cover situations like this! He was being watched, certainly, but at least they didn’t have their weapons drawn and they were helping Chalky, so maybe…maybe it was more like a rescue? Luna protect them, he hoped so. What kept running through his mind though, was that they ate meat! Thank the Goddess they still had their rations. With luck, they’d last until they could get out of here and re-supply.

Snow crunching under hoof, the party headed towards the nearby village. The cloaked ponies kept disturbingly quiet, keeping their cloaks pulled in tight around themselves. Bracken couldn’t help but feel a shiver every now and again, and it probably had nothing to do with the cold. He tried to take his mind off it by marvelling at the surprising ease with which these ponies moved across the terrain. Upon closer examination, it appeared they had some sort of wicker work basket or tray - it was hard to see - but there was definitely something attached to their hooves that prevented them from sinking into the snow they way he was. He’d have to have a better look later.

Later came all too soon. The village was half buried in snow, with tracks cut through it allowing access to the various doors, outbuildings and supply sheds that were all but invisible from a distance. Bracken followed the two carrying Chalk into one of one of the sturdy looking buildings. They were constructed, by the looks of them, from huge timbers. Where they got the wood from out here was anyponies guess, but they certainly looked like they could last the test of time – and the weather. Out in the mountains they probably had little choice in the matter. Inside, the room was fairly plain. A bed sat in the corner, covered, rather worryingly, in what appeared to be fur of the same type as the grey and white beast that had attacked them. A fire was burning in the corner, but it wasn’t wood, it was…something else, something…pungent. His nose twitched. It was probably best not to enquire further, especially as he had a horrible feeling he knew what it was. Beside the bed was a table and shelving covered in bottles, jars, ropes and goodness knows what else. It looked…’arcane’ almost. The skulls really added to the disturbing ambience, Bracken thought to himself nervously.

A musty smelling curtain was pushed aside and an equally musty old mare walked in, her matted black fur so long Bracken wondered if it was a yak. Deep maroon eyes, half hidden in the jungle of fur, locked onto the shaking figure on the bed. She shook her head,

“A marked one.” She said dismissively, “Cast it onto the mountainside, we will make a sacrifice to the Goddess to ward off its evil once the snows pass.”

Bracken stood in amazement, his mouth agape. What had she just said? Two of the ponies moved to collect Chalk before the words of that old mare finally sank in.

“Like hell you are!” He shoved them out of the way, standing beside Chalk and dropped into a fighting stance, “You throw him out there and he’ll die. What sort of monsters are you to do that to another pony?”

The two cloaked ones stared at him from under their cowels but didn’t move. Around them the room fell silent and then, almost imperceptibly, all attention shifted to the old mare. She was the true power here, and one word from her and Bracken knew, they’d be on him. Even so, there was no chance of him letting them take him without a fight. They’d even rather carelessly left him his sword.

“Violence is not permitted in the village, child of the Goddess.” The mare said in her smooth voice as if reading his mind, “The marked one must be cast out. His kind can only bring the wrath of the white witch down upon us.”

Bracken stomped a hoof, “What a load of bollocks! Chalky’s just like you and me, and how you expect Celestia to…”

“-DON’T SAY THAT NAME HERE!”

Weapons suddenly hissed from sheaths around them, the atmosphere dropping sharply,

“Are you a complete imbecile?!” the long haired mare snapped, “What sort of fool invokes the witch’s name here?” she advanced on him, her expression darkening, “You are…” the mare stopped, staring deeply into his eyes, “No…you are not of our people, and yet…” she stepped back suddenly, her ears twitching, “Get out!” she waved her hooves at the other cloaked ponies, “All of you, get out of here! Now!”

The rest look as confused as Bracken was, but obediently backed out of the door, watching warily him as they went. He knew without a shadow of a doubt they wouldn’t be far away, and only so much as a shout from the black mare would have them all barrelling back in here hell bent on bloody retribution; ‘no violence’ be damned!

The strange mare looked at Bracken askance, her expression of surprise quickly transforming into one of intense curiosity. She glanced down at his friend,

“Strange it is, that two such as you should travel together, hmm?” she nodded towards Chalk, “A child of the day, and a child of the night? Most strange indeed.”

The words of the mare washed over him like so much air. What was important was lying on the bed looking for all the world like he was preparing to leave this one. Bracken gritted his teeth, trying to sound pleasant yet firm,

“Look, Miss, please, can you help my friend? He’s in a bad way.”

“Hmm?”

The mare gave him a half smile, her expression oddly knowing, although what she actually did know, as yet remained to be seen. She raised an eyebrow,

“Your friend…the marked one…” lifting a hoof up to the shelf, she took down a thin wooden framework of beads and feathers, all intertwined, the whole coming together to create some peculiar maze of shapes and forms that made Bracken’s head ache just to look at it. “He is near death,” she said quietly, “the guardians of the gateway are readying themselves to accept his soul.”

“I don’t give a flying buck about that!” Bracken snapped, beginning to pace anxiously, “Please! I’ll do anything, just…just help him…” his voice began to crack, “…please.”

“’Anything’” The mare replied with a derisive sniff, “You should not use such words so readily, child of the moon, for words carry a weight and power far beyond their mere utterance.” She closed her eyes a moment, murmuring words in a language that was so gutteral it made Bracken’s chest vibrate. A few seconds later she looked round at him and sighed, “It is up to him now.”

Bracken’s heart leapt into his mouth, “What? I thought you were going to help him!”

The mare tossed her mane and walked over to the fireplace, her voice sounding tired and strained,

“I already have”

Bracken sank to his haunches and stared at his friend’s weakened figure on the bed and went to pull the blanket up around him. It was cold enough without…

“Don’t go near him!” The mare suddenly snapped, “Dear Goddess, how have you stayed alive this long, child?” she shook her head in disbelief, “Can’t you…?” she paused, “No…no I supposed you cannot, can you?”

“Can’t what?” Bracken asked, stepping away from the bed.

The mare rolled her eyes. At least it looked like she did, but it was hard to tell beneath the thick mat of hair, “You are not from our tribe, nor our people. We are born to know things that your people have forgotten. It is such a shame.”

“I don’t about any of that,” Bracken said rubbing his face, “I think I’ve seen things nopony in their right mind would want to see.” He looked into the flames of the fire, “I sure as hell never wanted to.”

A cup of some hot spicy drink suddenly appeared in front of Bracken’s muzzle, the mare holding it out to him in her hooves,

“What is your name, child of the moon?”

“Me? Bracken, Miss?” he replied.

“Neira” the mare said lifting her own cup, “Drink. It will ease your spirit and revive your life energy.”

Sipping the drink, the tang of fruit, sharp and almost bitter, hit his tongue like a razor blade, making him wince at the strange taste. Following in on the back of that was a warm, spicy hint of cinnamon and several other unusual flavours he couldn’t put his hoof on. It wasn’t particularly pleasant, but its effects were almost immediate. Heat flashed through him, sending it tingling radiance throughout his body. He’d never had anything like this! He felt…light, alert, almost buoyant!

A hoof touched his shoulder, “Bracken, do you feel better now?”

“I…yes, yes I do!” he said honestly, “I feel wonderful!”

“Good…” the mare smiled, “Now take off all that encumbrance and let me look at you, and see you as the Goddess intended.”

Bracken paused a moment; ‘As the Goddess intended’? He shrugged. It was just the old mare’s way of speaking he guessed, but still, taking all his equipment off would leave him vulnerable in case…in case what? She attacked him? Sniffing, he shook off his doubts. Where could he go anyway? Chalk’s life was in their hooves, as indeed was his. Compliantly, Bracken removed his cloak, armour, weapons and gear, stacking them as neatly as he could in the corner of the room. In a way it was a relief to get them off, but still…

“Hmm.” The mare, Neira, walked up to him, inspecting him as if he were some prize animal. Her hooves glided over him, poking, prodding, lifting his legs and checking his hooves, his mane, even his tail. Some of this was becoming very strange indeed, and where she was prodding now was making him feel distinctly uncomfortable! Eventually, moving around to his other side, Neira checked his ears and finally, of all things, his teeth, “You are in fine condition, it would seem.” She nodded to herself, “Yes…very fine.”

“Neira?” Bracken asked politely, “Thank you for…whatever it is you’re doing to help us. I don’t have much to repay you with but…”

“Repay me?” Neira looked surprised, “Do your people not help those in need? Why would there need to be a payment?” she actually appeared genuinely puzzled.

Bracken blushed, “Well, I mean, you were going to leave him on the mountainside to die at first and I…”

Neira let out a nicker, “-And well it would have been if I should have done so.”

Bracken’s eyebrows shot up.

“It’s like explaining why water is wet to a foal…” Neira grumbled. She took a sip of her drink and sighed, “Your friend is a child of the sun,” she pointed to her head with her hoof, “a marked one, a ‘unicorn’” she gave Bracken a knowing look and let out a loud sigh at his baffled expression, “Look at his colours!”

“He’s white? So what?” the confused stallion replied.

“He has the appearance of the white witch, Bracken, can you not see that?” Neira threw her forelegs up in exasperation at his ignorance, “These creatures are a cause of misfortune, and great tragedy follows in the hoof steps.” She shook her head, “Magic is the domain of the Goddess and not for mortals - it is an evil thing.” She closed her eyes, “I fear I may have brought doom upon our tribe by helping this one.”

“Look, I don’t know what all this ‘child of the moon and sun’ stuff is about, but Chalky’s just a regular unicorn for the Goddess’ sake. I mean, look at him! He’s more danger to himself than anypony else!” Bracken snorted, “Come on Neira, its not like unicorn’s are rare. There’ll be plenty in your tribe, so…”

“-There are no unicorns in our tribe.”

“…theres…” Bracken stopped and stared, “What? None?”

“There are no unicorns in our tribe.” Neira repeated solemnly.

“But, what if one’s born? It’s not unusual for…”

“-I said there are NO unicorns in our tribe!” Neira suddenly snapped, her eyes flashing dangerously, “There are no marked ones here, do you understand? Do NOT speak to me of this again!”

Bracken’s ears flopped, his head hanging, “I’m sorry, Neira…”

She snorted loudly, “There are some subjects that we do not talk about, child of the moon, and that is one of them.”

“I understand.” Bracken could feel there was more to this, but changing the subject quickly seemed like the best course of action right then, “Why do you call me ‘Child of the Moon’? I’ve heard that before. Mum mentioned it but I never really asked.”

“Your mother was probably trying to protect you.” Neira explained, throwing another pile of, ‘something’, onto the fire, “Your people obviously have very short memories. Either that or a wanton desire to forget their own heritage.” Neira trotted over to a rack of thick rug-like cloaks, “Here…” she passed one to Bracken as she continued, “The children of the night are those, quite simply, who were born when the sign of our Goddess was in the sky above their heads.” She poked him with a hoof, “You are one.” With a sigh, Neira cocked her head towards the still figure of Chalk, “The same is true for those born under the sign of the witch.”

“Its pretty much what I’ve heard,” Bracken replied, scratching his chin, “but I never had much time for religious stuff. Anyway, loads of ponies are born at night and they’ve never had any trouble.”

“You know that for a fact, do you? Hmm?” Neira chortled, “You would not be so certain with your response if you had been one of the tribe.”

“Who are you ponies, Neira?” Bracken set down his cup, “Really, I mean, living out here in the Equestrian mountains?”

She snorted, “And why are you here, Bracken, child of the moon?”

He said nothing.

“And so you have your answer.” Neira stretched her back and legs, “Now, I must set your friends leg. The threads of the weave are already in place.” She scratched her chin thoughtfully, “Interesting.”

“What is?” Bracken felt the conversation was less for him and more for her.

“Questions, questions, questions!” Neira clucked her tongue, “Be quiet pony and do what I tell you.”

At the peculiar mare’s directions, Bracken worked. Between them they began to reset the bones, binding and strapping the broken leg with splints and what looked like some kind of skin…’leather’ he believed it was called. Neira spoke as she worked, occasionally muttering to herself as she did so,

“It is not so often ponies listen to me any more. Once, there was a near constant flood of them at my door asking me for help: problems with births, problems with marriages, problems with everything!” She laughed, “Problems, problems, problems!”

Time passed. Inside the stout wooden cabin, the long haired mare and her new assistant finally left Chalk alone on the bed to rest. His colour was back at least, but he’d been unconscious the whole time they’d been working on him. Perhaps it was just as well. Some of the sounds his bones had made as Neira had pulled and pushed on his leg had made Bracken feel like he was going to throw up.

He shook his head, letting out a soft sigh. Here they were again; lost, cold and in trouble - relying on the help of others who, by the grace of Luna, were helping them. The worst of all of this though, was that it was really his fault. If he hadn’t joined back up, then Chalk wouldn’t have followed him and they wouldn’t have ended up here. Now his best friend had nearly died after he’d left his beloved mare to follow him. Bracken closed his eyes. Goddess in her mercy, he felt like crying. A hoof against his shoulder made him look up suddenly,

“Do not look so troubled, young one, your friend will live.”

Bracken tried to smile, “It’s not that, I mean, it is, but…oh Goddess…” he gritted his teeth, furious with himself, “It’s my fault we’re here!”

“Oh?”

“I wanted to get away, I wanted to escape that bloody world I was trapped in and find something…something ‘else’, something that was just for me and me alone. I’ve been following Chalky around like a bloody sheep all this time and now, now it’s all gone to crap!” He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his muzzle, “Goddess damn it, it’s all my fault.”

Neira walked over to the kettle and poured another cup of the spicy drink for them both,

“Blaming yourself for the decisions of others is a tree that yields no fruit, hmmm?” the old mare reached forward and pulled the long thick cloak around Bracken’s shoulders, “Your friend is an adult, Bracken, he had a choice, as do we all. No matter how dire the circumstances, we always have a choice.” She stared wistfully into her steaming cup, “Even if that choice is to do nothing.”

Bracken took a sip of his drink, “I’m sorry, Neira, we don’t know each other and here I am blathering on about my troubles. Forgive me.”

“Did you ever find your ‘something else’?” Neira asked quietly.

“No…” he snorted, letting out an ironic laugh, “I don’t think there’s anything out there to find.”

Neira shook her head, “Many think like that at your age.” She smiled, “Patience is something that few have in good supply, and the young have the least of all.”

Bracken said nothing. What could he say? He didn’t know this mare, he didn’t know these people, and here he was opening his heart as if he’d known her all his life! Good Goddess, what the hell was he doing? He tried to change the subject,

“These cloaks are warm.” He said, snugging his around him a little more. He lifted it up and sniffed it. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it was a little musty…sort of…animal like? “These…they are woven, aren’t they?”

“Woven?” Neira looked at him in surprise, “Do you see any animals here?”

“No, but you could trade and…”

“-It’s yak.” The black mare cut in.

“Yak?” Bracken felt a shiver run down his spine, but held his tongue. The look he received from Neira told him that criticising her people, or their ‘customs’ would not be wise. Besides, she had been very hospitable, and…it was so warm…

She snorted out a laugh, her eyes glinting beneath her fur, “Hungry?”

“Yes!” he said lifting his head and then suddenly froze, “Er…actually, Neira, you’ve done too much for me already. I’ll use my rations, don’t worry.”

Neira sniffed, “As you please.” She took out a few jars and packages from a cupboard, “However, I believe you may require those for your trip home, will you not?”

“Yes, but…”

Neira shrugged, “Do you normally refuse the hospitality of a host in your homeland, Bracken?”

“No!” Bracken lifted his hoof up in protest, “Please, Neira, you don’t understand.”

“Don’t I?” she asked.

“No, look, we don’t eat meat.” Bracken tried to explain, “I’ve never eaten it. If you had some vegetables then sure, but…”

Neira let out an exasperated sound, “Then just eat the vegetables!” Neira said rolling her eyes, “Foals!” she moved Bracken to one side and began adding root vegetables and herbs to a pot which had been simmering beside the kettle since he came in. The smells quickly began to tickle enticingly at his nose and made him feel a rush of anticipation, despite his initial apprehension.

The mare stirred the pot, and every now and again casting him a glance with an oddly knowing smile half hidden in that thick fur. Bracken felt like a character from a story book; one his mother had read to him so many years ago. It was about a spider, one who would entice the unwary into her web with kindness and offers of rewards, only to put them in her pot. He wondered how many sentient beings had ended up in Neira’s? He swallowed, but still…his stomach growled. Items soon appeared that were now sizzling in a pan. More spices were added, more herbs, all swirling and making him salivate. Goddess above, he was so hungry! Army rations be damned, he could eat a…Oh, Luna’s arse! Why was he thinking like this?

Neira smiled, “Do you have a mare, Bracken? Any foals of your own?”

He shook his head, his attention more on the food than Neira’s question.

“But there was one, wasn’t there?” she asked.

Bracken nodded, his mind distant, his fur tingling beneath the thick cloak.

“What was her name?”

“Pickles.” He said absently.

Neira smiled, “A pony name.” She added a pinch of salt to the pot, “But there is another, is there not? One who holds your heart in her hooves, singing you softly to sleep while you drift into the dream world, safe once more for another day.”

Bracken furrowed his brow, taking a sip of his now cooling tea, “No…there’s…” he stared at her, his eyes suddenly widening, “Divine Majesty?”

The mare smiled and laughed, “Who?” she returned to stirring the pot, “Kind of you to think of me in such a manner!” Neira shook with mirth, before wiping her muzzle with her foreleg, “I’m sorry, Bracken, but it’s written all over you face. I can even see it in your aura.” She tapped him on the nose, “You are loved, very much indeed. Perhaps, you don’t fully realise this yet.”

“I…” Bracken let out an involuntary nicker, the memory of azure eyes flooded his mind; those large orbs in a face as dark as midnight, her mane flowing with magic like smoke in a gentle breeze. She was…magnificent, so sleek, so elegant, her wings as soft as velvet and her horn…he shivered. He shouldn’t be thinking about this, he shouldn’t!

“Who is this ‘Divine Majesty’, Bracken?” Neira asked with a smile, “I am intrigued; is she a lady? Perhaps some dignitary?”

“It’s just a pet name,” Bracken said quickly, “Her name’s really Ni…Night…M…Rain.” He coughed, “Night Rain.”

“Oh, I see.” Neira said quietly, “Forgive an old mare’s questions, young Bracken. I lead a rather solitary existence these days, and gossip and chatter are the only pleasures I have now.” She shrugged, “Soon I will be leaving to be with our Goddess and all my knowledge, all my stories, will be passed down through the next generation of our people.”

Bracken hung his head in silence. He didn’t know Neira, and yet her words seemed so sad, despite the look on her face. She seemed to be actually looking forward to…dying. He felt like pulling the cloak over his head and curling into a ball. He just wanted to go home.

“Here, eat it while it’s hot, it will do you good.” Neira passed him a bowl and went to check on Chalk while she left hers to cool a little.

“Neira, does your tribe have a name?” Bracken asked.

“Tribe?” she huffed, “We’re not a primitive people, Bracken, although…” she looked back at him a moment, “maybe in some respects we are now, so much has changed since I was a foal.” Shaking her head, Neira brushed her mane to one side, “It doesn’t really matter. We are who we are.” She examined Chalks leg and nodded to herself, satisfied with their work from earlier, “Your ‘people’ have various names for us, the ‘Children of the night’ being the most polite of them. But let me ask you a question, Bracken,” she leaned closer to him, “Which tribe do you belong to?”

“Me? I don’t belong to a tribe,” Bracken said, slightly bemused by her question, “I’m Equestrian, we all are.”

“Yes…” Neira said meaningfully, “We all are.”

Bracken nodded slowly. She was right; despite their unusual outward appearance, they really were all Equestrians. He took a breath and let it out slowly as he contemplated her words. Hairy, Neira’s people may be, but these ponies, were exactly that: ponies; they even spoke the same language. Placing his empty bowl on the hearth, he took one of the rolls and munched on it thoughtfully,

“I’d heard there were lost tribes.” He said, “Mum used to tell me about them when I was a foal; that they were the ones who had left after the wars of the three tribes, to form their own home in the light of the moon of Princess Luna.” He licked his lips, savouring each crumb, “Not many ponies talk about history, they’re more interested in what’s happening in the present.”

“Ha!” Neira barked out a laugh, “Very true! And also, true of our own people.” She passed him another roll, “Ponies are ponies, be they my people or yours, born under the sun or the moon, all of us have a common bond, Bracken. Being self centred is not a unique trait.” She shook her mane, “Still, it is our actions that show our worth, not just words.”

“But words still carry power, Neira.” Bracken said.

“Good!” Neira poked him with her hoof, her eyes sparkling, “You learn quickly, young Bracken. Hmm, perhaps you would make a fine apprentice…perhaps…” she gave him an odd look, “Yes…”

Bracken suddenly belched and raised his hoof to his mouth in apology, “Pardon!”

“Good?” Neira chuckled, returning to her own meal.

“It was delicious.” Bracken said licking the crumbs from his mouth happily, “You’re an incredible cook, Neira.”

“Am I?” she smiled, “You’re a flatterer.”

“No, really,” Bracken leaned back, rubbing his full stomach, “that was amazing.”

“Hmm. For all your protestations earlier, you certainly put those rolls away.” Neira nodded to herself, “It’s good to see a stallion enjoying my food, and it does justice to the spirits of those that have passed to give us their strength to live on.”

Bracken smiled and groaned, he felt so warm, and sleepy too. His eyes felt a little droopy, but…wait…what? He sat up straight, his eyes locked on Neira,

“Those that have passed?”

“Of course.” The mare replied, “We use their coats to keep us warm, and share their bodies with ours to…”

“-Their coats?! Their bodies?!” Bracken could feel his heart rate increasing. He lifted the cloak and stared at it. If he looked closely, he could see where the yaks legs had been, where…where…oh Goddess. His heart was in his mouth now, “Neira…” he said in a bare whisper, “What happened to the yak?” he suddenly felt cold, “The one who this cloak…”

Neira shrugged, taking a bite of her roll. She chewed it for while, watching him as she did so, before swallowing it and giving him an innocent look,

“You’ve been eating him.”

“Oh! Oh, dear sweet Goddess…what have I…?” Bracken’s stomach lurched, the room spinning as he felt his insides heave, “I…”

“I must say, Bracken,” Neira said pleasantly as she took another a bite, “He really is delicious. “ She lifted the remains of the roll, “Wouldn’t you agree? Such a rich taste. Must be the fat in the meat that…” she furrowed her brow, “Bracken? Bracken are you alright?”

Neira leaned over and pulled the cloak over the unconscious black stallion and sighed. He’d be alright after a sleep. She put some more peat on the fire and yawned. It was cold out tonight, but it was good to have some company. Taking some of the furs from the bed, she walked over to Bracken and threw a few more over him. For a moment, she hesitated, but then, with a shrug at her own intransigence, Neira lay down and crawled under the furs, snuggling up to Bracken and sharing his warmth. It was their way, their tradition, to sleep beside each other and share their body heat. Neira grinned to herself. It had been a long time since anypony had wanted to share their warmth with her, but the young stallion wouldn’t mind. She sighed. It was only for a few minutes…just a few…

Morning came with little fanfare. Here, the days were just as short as they were in the heartlands, the bitter chill of winter made even keener by the unforgiving wind that blew through the village. This high up had some advantages though, Bracken thought to himself, for example how the clouds appeared to actually be below them and the sky above as blue as blue could be. It was really quite beautiful, in a minimalistic sort of fashion. Neira walked up beside him, the way the wind caught her mane making her already wild appearance look even more untamed than before,

“What do you think?”

“It has a beauty all of its own.” Bracken replied honestly, “Is this why you stay here?”

“It is,” Neira said, adjusting her pack, “but the others only winter here. They go further north when summer arrives.”

“So this village is only used during winter?” he shook his head, “It must be really bad further north.”

The old mare nodded, gesturing for Bracken to follow, “The weather there can flense the hide right off your bones. Here, it’s a little more tolerable.” She sighed, “I’m too old to make the journey these days, so they leave enough food and supplies here for me to tide me over until they return.”

“That’s…that’s awful,” Bracken said in surprise, “they leave you here all alone?”

“Pah! Who would want to stay with an old wrinkly mare?” Neira chuckled, “You don’t know how wonderful peace and quiet can truly be until you lose it. I had years of screaming foals and griping ponies to contend with until I was finally left in peace.” She trudged on through the snow, “Come, I will show you something that may help you in your quest.”

Bracken blinked in surprise, “My quest?”

Neira looked over her shoulder, a sly smile crossing her face,

“For ‘Something else’.”

The two ponies walked in single file through the snow, down what appeared to be a gully of some kind and into an area that felt, much to Bracken’s surprise, to be quite warm – or at least warmer than he had been. Up ahead, he began to see wisps of white smoke rising from between the rocks, the snow beginning to thin out and the smoke…no, no it wasn’t smoke, it was…steam, clouds of it hanging in the air like fog. It really was beginning to become warmer now, and his cloak was starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable. Neira however, carried on as if nothing was out of the ordinary, while occasionally looking back over her shoulder to make sure he was still following her. Bracken began to see how a clear path had been laid between the steaming rocks, trodden no doubt, by numerous hooves over many years. Interspersed between the rocks were…pools, quite literally, pools of steaming water that had a sulphurous scent to them that made him sneeze loudly. He snorted, eliciting a laugh from the black mare up ahead. She was peering back at him through the thick white steam, beckoning him on; all he could really do now…was follow.

Bracken tried covering his muzzle with his cloak to keep the worst of the damp out, but it was hopeless - the soaking white clouds were everywhere and soaked into his fur, his nose…everything. And then, almost as quickly as they had appeared, the billowing white clouds thinned out revealing something so incredible Bracken found himself rooted to the spot, staring in open mouthed amazement at the sight before him. It was a cavern, and it was…huge. Stalagtites and stalagmites of a size he’d never seen before gave the immense open space an otherwordly feeling, as though he had stepped through the fog into another world. There was a light here too, a sort of phosphorescent glow that seemed to emanate from the very rock itself. It was strangely beautiful, and yet so incredibly ‘different’, Bracken was left speechless.

“Come on, take all of that off.” Neira said impatiently while disrobing nearby, “Or are you going to bathe fully clothed?”

Bracken rolled his eyes and began taking off his cloak, leg wrappings and other accoutrements he’d brought with them. Not least of which was his sword which he kept to hoof, just in case another one of those bloody things appeared that had nearly had them for dinner on the mountainside. He was still angry with Neira for the roll incident too, but really, he supposed it was his fault. After all, he was the one who’d eaten it when she’d already given him a bowl of stew. Horribly, and rather guiltily, he’d actually…enjoyed it. He gave himself a shake as the last of his clothing came loose. Luna have mercy, he’d be having nightmares about it for years, YEARS!

Bracken watched the hairy mare pile her clothes neatly and step towards the edge of the nearest pool. Despite the beauty of the glowing crystalline rocks structures and the warmth of the cavern, it was the strangeness of the mare that caught his attention, and her cutie mark. Neira cleared her throat,

“Do like my rump, Bracken?” She gave it a shake, flicking her tail around, “As much I find you admiring me flattering, I am old enough to be your grandmother.”

The black stallion lifted his forehoof in surprise, his face flushing bright red, “Neira! No! Good Goddess, I…I’m sorry, I was only looking at your cutie mark!” he hung his head, his ears flopping in embarrassment, “I’m sorry, that was…rude of me.”

Neira harrumphed, tossing her mane, “And there I was thinking I still had my looks.” She looked away, an expression of sadness passing across her face.

Bracken stepped forward quickly, lifting his hoof towards her in apology, but she turned back with a beaming grin,

“Got you.”

“Hey!” Bracken stomped his hoof in annoyance at the amused chuckling of the old mare as she wiped the tears of mirth from her eyes.

“Oh Bracken!” she laughed, “You are much more fun than those miseries in the village!” She stepped down into the pool, letting the water ease its way up her legs, her underside and then finally up to her neck with a groan of relief. Neira gave Bracken a look as he walked into the pool and sat down a respectful distance away from her, “Joking aside my young friend, is my mark so much of a surprise to you? You have one too.”

Splashing some water onto his muzzle, Bracken moaned softly as the water began to warm his skin and soak away his aches and pains. He half closed his eyes, staring up at the long spires of crystal and rock around them, letting his mind wander. Neira’s cutie mark had been a surprise: it was a spiral in pure white with what appeared to be a dark blue cloud behind it. He’d never seen anything like it - it was almost…cryptic. He nodded to himself. Yes…cryptic was a good word.

“I wasn’t sure you’d have one,” he said honestly, “being from beyond the normal boundaries of Equestria. I mean, I know nothing about your people really.”

“You didn’t know if i’d have a cutie mark?” Neira shook her head, “Probably expected me to have two heads as well did you?” She gave him a look that suggested he wasn’t meant to answer. The mare sighed, “My name, ‘Neira’, it means ‘Spire’ in old Equestrian. My parents wanted me to follow in their footsteps as village elders - a respected position of authority within our ‘tribe’. Being a young filly at the time it wasn’t the path I would have chosen myself of course, but it was the one that I ended up with nonetheless.”

“You’re the village elder?!” Bracken said suddenly, sitting up.

“Didn’t they tell you?” Neira raised an eyebrow, “Does it trouble you?”

Bracken thought for a moment and then shook his head, “I…No, no it doesn’t.” he answered honestly.

Neira smiled. The water splashed gently around her as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to float; her body rising until, lying on her back, she rose to just below the surface of the water with her legs in the air. Bracken couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at the ridiculous spectacle. He watched her watching him and suddenly realised he liked her. She was kind, a little odd maybe, perhaps even eccentric, but in her own way she was a mare who he felt comfortable to be around. He shrugged, and twisted around until he too was able to drift up, allowing the water carry his weight. It was an incredible experience…and strange - the cooler air contrasting against the warmth, and the feeling of weightlessness. Bracken groaned in ecstasy…Goddess above this was amazing…simply…amazing…

A hoof under his head brought him round with a start,

“Time to get out.”

“Eh? I was just…”

“No arguments,” Neira admonished, “if you spend too long, you can fall asleep and that’s dangerous.” She pointed at his hooves, “Hot water can lead to soft hooves if they’re in for too long, and the last thing you want is a cracked hoof in the mountains.”

Bracken nodded, obediently following the hairy mare out of the water and over to the packs where they removed two rough towels. It was good to be out, but the cooler air was quickly beginning to become noticeable. Towelling off, Bracken suddenly jumped when he felt something against his mane. It was Neira.

“Hold still!” she mumbled around the comb, “I can’t do this when you’re fidgeting like you have worms.”

He sat there, feeling the brush running through his mane, pulling out the tangles that had accumulated over days, if not weeks of neglect. In the army, having your mane and tail short was a given, but being out here ‘in the field’, the last thing on his mind was brushing. Instead, staying fed and warm was given priority, but personal grooming…he let out a moan of pleasure…by the Goddess that felt good. His mind quickly began to wander, his thoughts taking a path of their own, leading him to images of a sea green mare with a pink mane and deep yellow eyes, morphing as if it was as natural as water falling from the sky, to the lithe form of Nightmare Moon, the dark Goddess, the dread Princess of the night…

A clop across his rump made him jump,

“We take turns in grooming at the pools.”

Neira huffed out a breath, sinking to the ground onto her towel as Bracken took up the brush and set to work. He had to admit it was oddly therapeutic, not just for the one being groomed, naturally, but for the groomer themselves. The rhythmic, long strokes through the mare’s tail were almost hypnotic. Her mane itself was long, and almost as black as her coat, but with the odd flecks of silver running through it here and there, a sure sign of Neira’s advancing years. She was a fascinating female and one, he realised, he’d been exceptionally lucky to meet, and not just because she’d saved Chalk. Bracken sighed. He felt strangely comfortable here; a sense of peace and acceptance he hadn’t felt since the first time he’d met…Pickles…he shook his mane and squeezed his eyes shut against the intrusive memories. Goddess above…every time he felt like something was going right, ‘bang’! Another memory comes along to slam into him and remind him that he’s alone in the world. Perhaps this was fate, maybe emptiness was all that he was destined for - that, and to be some sort of bizarre plaything for Nightmare Moon. Sometimes, he wondered if it was all worth it. Sometimes, it seemed to be just so much effort, he just wanted to let go… He sighed, opening his eyes and…

“Wah!”

Bracken jumped back as a large pair of maroon eyes filled his vision.

“Wake up!” Neira bopped him on the head with her hoof, “Come on, time to go. The heats got to you already.” She collected her clothes and gear and walked away to a cooler spot to change, “And you with a short coat too,” she muttered, “I don’t know how you survived…”

Bracken said nothing, the memory of his melancholy dissipating like the heat. He checked his hooves and marvelled at how clean everything appeared, and…he felt great! Luna’s hairy arse, if this was all it took to change his mood, then he’d happily live here with Neira and…he stopped, staring at his cloak on the floor. He could, couldn’t he? He could desert the army, maybe give Chalky some cock and bull story for them, tell them he’d died in the mountains and then that would be that. He’d be up here, living simply, working with Neira, helping her collect things for her concoctions and for their meals. He smiled to himself. It was so simple! He nodded to himself. He’d have a think about it and ask her tomorrow and, if she agreed, then maybe, just maybe, he could stay here as her apprentice. Bracken shrugged to himself. It was a long shot of course, not to mention the fact that he knew next to nothing about her or her people, but for some reason he just couldn’t put his hoof on, he felt…welcomed here. Of course, that could just be down to Neira - the others hadn’t seemed so sure. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen much of the rest of the villagers since he’d arrived. Had they been avoiding the newcomers?

Trotting out after Neira, Bracken followed in silence feeling refreshed and alert despite the cold that began to batter him when they left the gully. Surprisingly, it just didn’t seem to bother him as much now. Curious…

Neira walked on, threading her way through rocks and past what were quite clearly short stubby plants of some description; the first signs of plant life Bracken had seen since coming here. They were damned hardy too whatever they were, he thought to himself as he followed the thickly cloaked mare closely. Despite her age, she was quite the nimble creature, avoiding stones and rocks with practiced ease. For his own part, it was all Bracken could do to keep up with her and not turn his ankle on some of the larger loose stones. They climbed up, following the ever deepening path as it snaked through walls that looked as if they had been cut into the very rock of the mountain, like some giant had cleaved it with an axe millennia ago and now, thousands of years later, here they were walking in the still and silent air of…

They’d stopped.

With a slight smile on her face, Neira looked back at him. Her voice taking on a strangely quiet tone,

“Tell me Bracken, what do you see, hmm?”

The black stallion blinked his large grey eyes and looked around them. They were in a ravine of sorts, the rock walls to either side lined with faint stripes of colour defining the various striations in the surface. Snow had fallen down here over countless years, some of it melting and forming enormous icicles and frozen tracks on the rock that glinted in the sunlight from high above. Bracken looked past Neira and saw…nothing, only where the ravine began to narrow, the rockfall leading up to a slight incline before a near vertical wall. He shook his head. Was he supposed to be looking for something in particular? Taking a deep breath, Bracken closed his eyes,

“Rocks, snow, ice, the sun above and blue sky. Nature.” He said.

“Hmm.” Neira cocked her head to one side and gave him an appraising look, “You are looking with your eyes, not your heart.” Bracken blinked, unsure what to say, but Neira had expected this and tapped him on the nose, “You are a child of the moon, a pony of the earth beneath your hooves.” She glided her hoof along his neck as she walked around him, “You bear her colours and her touch…” Neira whispered into his ear, “I see it in your eyes. I saw it when you first arrived; the Goddess has touched your soul.”

Bracken took a sharp intake of breath and tried to back away but Neira was behind him now, blocking his escape,

“Why so fearful?” the mare asked quietly, “You are one of the children who were born beneath the moon and bathed in the pale light of the Goddess’ love.” She smiled, “There is nothing to fear Bracken, nothing at all…not even death holds any terrors for those who embrace the Goddess’ love.”

Bracken lifted a hoof, “Neira, I…”

“Shhh!” the black mare lifted his chin with her hoof, “Here is your world, Bracken, here is where you belong.” She motioned towards the rocks and nodded her head, “Look now…look…and see”

What in Equestria was she…? Bracken sighed, shaking his mane and took a deep a breath, letting it out slowly. He let his mind take its own course, freeing himself from his worries, his concerns and doubts. Right now, here, in this place, there was only him, and the world, the world of soil, rock, snow and ice. All living things were connected his mother had always told him: he was a part of them and they a part of him. But there was more, much, much more. Life relied on the food grown from the ground, and the soil in turn was nourished by those that lived upon it. It had always been there, like some shining gossamer thread - the common theme that was a simple element of all of them and every thing. Bracken blinked in the sunlight, visualising the threads of life before him.

It shimmered, shining brighter than the sun above them, thinner than a hairs breadth, but stronger than diamond. It was so strange, so alien, and yet so familiar he felt he’d been looking for something that had always been there - something that had never been lost. Bracken could feel the tears welling in his eyes. Lifting his foreleg, he stared at his hoof, at the threads of light leading from it, disappearing into the rock, the earth, the sky and the land around them. Shining like the stars in the night sky, Neira stood nearby, watching him, smiling with a warmth that melted his heart. She was a part of this world, and a part of him…he felt the tears rolling down his cheeks and dropping to the ground to be absorbed back into the earth from where he had come and one day, would return. He tried to speak, but could only manage a bare whisper as his emotions were overcome by the sheer power of it all. She would hear it, she could understand his words - they were reflected in her eyes. Bracken spoke softly into the chill air of the mountain,

“I was never alone…”

Neira nodded slowly, her eyes sparkling in the silver light,

“Open the way, Bracken, it’s waiting for you.”

With a deep breath and without fear, Bracken traced the outline in the rock, the long silver thread that scribed an arc from the ground, through the variations in the surface and down once more. He moved forward, leaning his head on the wall and breathed out, feeling for the soul of the mountain, the heartbeat of Equestria far below. The Goddess knew, she was with him, they were all with him.

The rock moved.

Blinking in the bright light, Bracken watched the silver threads begin to fade, replaced by a glow of another kind - one that emanated from inside of the mountain itself, into a cave of…

“My Goddess…it’s…”

“Beautiful.” Neira finished with a smile. Walking past the black stallion, she suddenly turned and took his hoof, “Come! Further in and further on!” Neighing suddenly, she let go, laughing and cantered off down the long straight path between the lush bushes of green and silver. As she moved, her passing wafted up tantalising scents that tickled Bracken’s nose with their spicy perfume. Neira danced farther away, her mane swishing from side to side as she called out to him, “Hurry Bracken! Hurry!”

Bracken let out a loud neigh of his own, his inhibitions and cares thrown to the wind as he cantered after the black mare. He didn’t know what this place was, but here he felt suddenly alive, free, and full of the energy of Equestria. Faster and faster he ran, rushing past the strange silver bushes, past formations of rocks, crystals and over streams of bubbling fresh water that sparkled like diamonds in the night sky. Bracken was running so fast now his ears lay flat, his tail streaming out behind him. He didn’t know where he was going and he didn’t care - he didn’t care at all! All he wanted to do now was run, run and chase the mare who…

“My…Goddess…”

Bracken’s eyes suddenly began to register a change around him. The bushes were no longer only growing along the ground, they were up the walls, on…buildings….

His mouth hung open as he stared. All around him sat buildings of all shapes and sizes, with doorways, windows, even bridges across bubbling streams; all of them built in a breathtaking mixture of the living rock of the mountain and from crystals of the most beautiful blues, pinks and reds. Here, a small building with tools he recognised, all laid out awaiting the next project - a crafters home. There, a small house full of fragile scrolls and maps, the walls lined with strange writing, pictures, and scenes of places and things he’d never seen before. Throughout it all, on each roof, on every windowsill and wall, the silver bushes, heavy with their lush red fruit, glistened silently. In the distance the faint trickle of water played its own music into the emptiness, while Bracken’s ears were full of his loud breathing and beating heart.

He swallowed, trying to take it all in. Something was tickling at his memories, something that…

“Do like it?” Neira stood nearby, her voice gentle and soft.

“I…” Bracken span round, his eyes widening in shock, “Neira?!”

The black mare before him smiled coyly, her short black coat trim, sleek, and smooth, her mane and tail glistening with the radiant shine of health. Neira’s magenta eyes caught the silver light as she trotted up to him, a pony who looked now more like his own age, if not even slightly younger. She virtually pirouetted in place,

“What do you think?”

“I…” He didn’t know what to say! What was…?

Half closing her eyes, Neira sidled closer, her smile curling up the corners of her mouth.

“I wasn’t always as you see me,” she purred lustily, “I was your age once: young, fit and fleet of hoof.” She chuckled, “This…” she waved a foreleg around the cavern, “This is what I wanted to show you - this place, and all its secrets.”

“It’s…amazing…” Bracken was having trouble getting his words out and licked his lips. His mouth felt bone dry.

Neira grinned as she passed him a water bottle, “It’s a place our people found many years ago. It was long abandoned even then.” She looked about her in wonder, “We used to come here regularly, every winter, but now it is a place that is being slowly forgotten once again.”

“But why?” Bracken breathed, “It’s so beautiful! It would be so much better than living out in the snow.”

Neira shrugged, piling her equipment and cloak, “Ponies change, Bracken. Now all our people can think of is leaving our ancestral lands and living in the Equestrian heartlands, leaving what was our home and moving to where the grass is as sweet as honey and wheat grows like towers of gold.”

Bracken huffed, “When you put it like that…”

“Yes! When I put it like that!” Neira nickered, “You haven’t seen our home during the summer, Bracken. It may be a harsh place, but it is our place, our home. We left Equestria long ago to start a life of our own but now the young want to throw it all away, discarding our heritage and all that makes us who we are on the promise of some vague…” she waved a hoof, “Oh…buck me sideways!”

Bracken grinned at the mare’s words, but she wasn’t finished,

“I didn’t bring you here to hear me droning on about my woes.” She shook her head, “I wanted to see if you had it in you, ‘the gift’,” she smiled up at him, “and you do.”

“The gift?” Bracken asked in confusion.

“The gift all earth ponies are born with,” she ran her hoof down his neck, “yet few now can feel its touch, or hear its call.” Neira nickered, “Hmm…I knew I was right about you. Your eyes are a pathway to your heart…and your soul, Bracken.”

“Neira…” Bracken felt a little unnerved, “This sounds odd, all of this. I’m an earth pony, not a unicorn. I don’t have magic, and…”

She placed her hoof on his mouth stopping him, “It’s not magic, Bracken, not as your friend would know it. No, this is a different kind of power, one bestowed upon those who have a special connection with the natural world around them. It is within every earth pony; it is your element, your gift, for you and for those like you who understand its call.”

Bracken took a breath, reaching out in his mind for that feeling he’d had outside, the one that…

“Yes!” Neira said clopping her hooves together, “You see!” she placed her forelegs around his neck and hugged him, “I was right…I was right!” she jumped away laughing and dancing as if she were no more than a young filly. Bracken couldn’t help but smile, despite that peculiar niggling…what the hell was that? Why was it…

The writing on the wall.

“Oh Goddess….” He hurried over to Neira and grabbed her, staring into her eyes. She looked back in confusion. “Neira, we have to get out of here, we’re in terrible danger!”

“What? Bracken!” she chuckled, “There’s no danger here, why…”

“Damn it, Neira! Haven’t you heard of pixies?” Bracken stared about him, his hackles going up, half expecting at any time to hear that hideous chittering sound…

“Pixies? You mean the little folk?” Neira laughed, “They don’t live here!” she shook her head, pulling away from him, “They don’t like places like this, and they don’t bother ponies anyway. You’re not afraid of them are you?” She gave him an appraising look that spoke of some hidden mirth that he couldn’t feel right then despite her assurances.

Bracken let out a breath, his heart racing, “Neira, listen, Chalky and I were on an island, we were locked in a room and these…these ‘little folk’ attacked us. They nearly killed us - they eat ponies!”

“Hmph!” Neira snorted, “I’ve never heard of them doing that before.” She tossed her mane, “You judge their entire race by the actions of those you encountered do you?”

“Yes! They tried to kill us!” Bracken threw up his forelegs in exasperation at Neira’s reluctance to accept what he was saying, “Bloody hell, Neira, we were knee deep in the bones of their previous dinners!”

Neira shrugged, “I don’t doubt your story Bracken, but I can only speak from my own experience, and I find them to be a very pleasant and intelligent people.”

“P…People?!” he nearly choked.

“Did you try talking to them?” Neira asked absently.

“They weren’t exactly very talkative!” Bracken stomped his hoof, “But they were certainly hungry!”

“Ah.” Neira walked over to one of the bushes and began picking some of the berries off, placing them in a basket.

Bracken walked over, “What do you mean, ‘ah’?”

The mare paused, looking up at him with a stern gaze and he backed off, suddenly feeling rather foolish.

“I ‘mean’” she said, “that hunger can make you do things you wouldn’t normally do. The body’s demands for food, for survival, can make you act in a manner that you would normally consider barbaric.” She tapped him on the nose with the basket, “You ate the roll, remember?”

“That’s different!” Bracken protested.

“Is it?” Neira continued picking the berries, “We all do what we must to live, Bracken. All of us.” She motioned towards the bushes for him to help. Bracken sighed, conceding the point and settled back into the therapeautic work of collecting berries.

In short order the basket was brim full of the small red fruits. They were fascinating things too. Bracken lifted one, sniffing it and examined its crystalline structure – he’d never seen fruit like these before, they way they glistened and shone was almost mesmerising. It smelled enticing too; warm and spicy. He was nearly salivating at the anticipation of the taste, and lifted one towards his mouth.

“No!” Neira suddenly snatched the berry away, “Don’t just eat it like that! Good Goddess, Bracken, don’t you know anything?”

“How should I?!” he snapped back, “I’ve never seen them before!”

Neira rolled her eyes, “So you just thought you’d eat something you’ve never seen before?” She let out a breath and shook her head, “They’re spirit berries, used for replenishing the life energy of living creatures.” She raised an eyebrow, “In the right quantities, they can be used for making spirits.” Neira chuckled slightly then gave him a hard look “But not in here.”

Bracken scrubbed his mane, “Why? I don’t understand.”

“The world is thin here, Bracken.” Neira explained, “The veil between the worlds can be breached in a place such as this, and here, this is where the berries grow. Here…” Neira’s face took on a sad and wistful expression, “one can see those who have moved on.”

“Ghosts?!” Bracken squeaked, stepping back hurriedly.

“Not ghosts, you twit!” Neira replied irritably, “Those who have moved on to be with the Goddess of course!” She shook her head, “You probably know it as the ‘Eternal Herd’?”

“Oh.” Brackens mind was racing, “You can actually speak with those who are with the herd?” He looked about him at the buildings, the empty rooms that had once been a place of activity and life, “Do you think that’s why they built this place? So they could speak with those who had moved on?”

The mare nodded, “That is what I believe.” She gave Bracken a beaming grin, “Not as stupid as you look, eh?”

“Hey!”

Neira nickered, prancing away, “Do you want to see, Bracken? Really see?”

“See what?”

The mare grinned widely, “What lies beyond.”

“I…” Bracken suddenly had an image of a sea green mare, her yellow eyes gazing into his as their limbs entwined, her lips caressing his ears, “I don’t...I…”

“You can be with them again, you know.” Neira said distantly, “If only for a short while.”

Bracken shook his head, “No. No, Neira, I don’t want to.”

“Because you have found a new love?” she asked.

“No!” Bracken scrubbed his mane furiously, “Because it’s wrong! I don’t want to see Pickles like that! I want to…I want…Oh, I don’t know!” he gave himself a good shake, “Please Neira, I want to go back now.”

Neira smiled sadly, “I was right about you.” She said giving him a nudge, “I consider myself a good judge of character, Bracken, and you haven’t proved me wrong.”

Bracken stood watching her pack the berries into her pack. She was a fascinating mare, and in her own way, quite attractive. At least, she had been, once.

“Is it because of this place that look like that, Neira?” He asked, “Because of the veil?”

“Meh! I suppose so.” Neira shrugged as she pulled the straps closed on her panniers, “I believe it allows us to appear as we see our true selves; not how we see each other physically, as you see me outside - as an old wrinkly mare.” She waved a hoof, “And don’t give me that look, I know how I look to you, I do have eyes and a mirror you know!” she smiled, “The veil here shows us what we are inside, Bracken, a mirror of our soul if you like.”

“I think I understand.” He said warily.

Neira smiled, “You didn’t answer my question from earlier.” She raised an eyebrow. “How do I look now?”

“You look…beautiful.” Bracken coughed, quickly moving on, “Do I look any different to you?”

Grinning, Neira walked up to him, the scent of her as enticing as the berries. Bracken could feel his cheeks burning as she drew closer.

“You look…” The mare’s voice lowered to lusty growl, “delicious…” She suddenly barked out a laugh and trotted back to her cloak and gear, “Come on now, young Bracken, I wouldn’t want the fruit to spoil.”

She was some mare alright, Bracken thought to himself rolling his eyes. Still, he couldn’t help but smile. There was something here, in this place, with this mare, that made him feel…at home. He pondered everything he’d seen – about what he knew about the crystal empire, about what Neira had shown him. Would he really have wanted to see Pickles? He still felt confused inside, as though somepony had taken all his emotions and jumbled them up. Images flashed through his mind: Nightmare Moon, Pickles, and now, probably just as worrying…Neira - at least, the younger Neira at any rate. Goddess damn his hormones!

Bracken blinked in surprise. He’d walked out of the cavern, down the trail, through the village and was following Neira into her home before he’d realised it. Dear sweet Luna, he was losing his mind! That was it! It was this place, and this mare! He sighed, taking his cloak off. Maybe there was something in the drink she’d given him that did this to him, but…

Neira tapped him on the side of the head,

“Here, try this, it’ll warm you up.”

Bracken nodded and without really thinking, took the small cup from Neira and knocked it back in one. It nearly floored him. Choking and wheezing, Bracken dropped the cup and grabbed his chest. Dear Goddess, he was right! She was trying to poison him! His throat was burning like fire and his eyes felt like they were melting right out of their sockets. Knees shaking, he collapsed onto the rug by the hearth. Bloody hell fire! His insides were…were…pleasantly warm…

“You idiot!” Neira rushed to his side and lifted his head in her forlegs, resting his muzzle against her chest, “Nopony drinks spirits like that! Oh, Bracken…” she sighed, “You’re going to be a lot of work aren’t you?”

Trying to catch his breath, Bracken could feel the warmth of the alcohol running through him, together with the warmth of the mare and the heat of the fire. It felt good…very good. He yawned, snuggling into the warm fur. He could just…go to sleep…

Chapter Forty Three - In the Dead of the Night

CHAPTER FORTY THREE

IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT

Sliver dragged herself away from the burning wreckage, the acrid smoke still stinging her eyes. One of her wings was broken, smashed into a jagged, bloody mess by the explosion that had claimed the lives of her comrades. She would sing them to their eternal rest later; for now though, she had to get away and report the attack to her command.

The thestral’s breath curled up around her muzzle. It was bitterly cold tonight, despite the initial heat from the blast - the blast that had turned her world from a routine, uneventful delivery of provisions and medical supplies from the depot, to one of merciless fire and effortless dismemberment of once brave and proud warriors. Most had died instantly, others, she’d had sent to their ancestors before moving off into the cover of the forest. Here at least, she would have some advantage, her deep midnight blue coat and black armour would help keep her as dark as the shadows themselves. She would need to keep low, out of sight and…

She paused. They were coming…

A voice hissed urgently in the darkness, “Keep quiet damn it!”

“But what if there’s more?” another, younger sounding voice replied, “Some of them could just be injured.”

The first voice dropped into a low snarl, “Then we kill them too.”

“What…even the wounded?” the second one asked, “Celestia’s arse, I don’t like this, Fuze, it’s…”

“-Shut up, you arsehole! Do you want to get us all killed? You knew what you were getting into when you signed up.” The first voice oozed with barely restrained hatred, “This scum murdered my brother and you’re whinging like some damned school foal! Stay here and rot in your own self righteousness then, you stinking coward.”

Sliver held her breath, keeping her muzzle low to hide her breath against the fresh snowfall. These weren’t professional soldiers, that was for sure. She listened carefully, trying to take in what she could, blanking out the pain that burned through her ravaged body. What were these creatures?

Staring into the darkness, Sliver’s eyes scanned the shadows of the forest for movement; and then she saw them. Two, no, three stallions - Celestians, they had to be, and they were coming closer. The nearest one, the male the others called ‘Fuze’, was carrying a spear and sword while the other two had short axes stuffed into belts that looked like they were designed more for felling work than war. The ponies passed her, but just for a moment, one of them paused, sniffing the air as though able to scent her. Sliver froze, mentally calculating the distance, the best strategy to attack, but the pony simply shrugged and carried on. They reached the smouldering wreckage at the site of the explosion; the torn and bloodied bodies of the thestrals littering the once peaceful forest road before them. Fuze smiled wickedly,

“A good nights work, wouldn’t you say boys?”

One the three nodded, taking in the sight, “Aye, sent these rats back to their hell alright.” He sniffed, “Think we’ll be sending a few more yet, eh?”

Fuze nodded, “Aye, we will…what? Damn!”

The ponies jumped back, drawing their weapons and moved closer together instinctively. It was a typical pony reaction Sliver had seen before: the herding instinct that gave them a sense of mutual protection. All it really did was make them easier targets, hampering their ability to manoeuvre. She shook her head. How the Legion had failed to completely subjugate these cowardly creatures by now was baffling. They’d lost, didn’t they know that? But…something was happening, there was movement - one of the warriors was still alive!

Wood moved, cracked, and split as the ragged and smoking figure of a large thestral stallion rose from the smashed wreckage like some ancient god of the sea. Sliver watched in amazement as the pieces of charred wood sluiced off his armour, finally revealing the warrior beneath. He let out a low hissing sound, smoke curling up from between his teeth, his eyes glowing like deep green fires.

One of the ponies shrieked in fear and back away.

“Pull yourself together!” Fuze snapped, “Look at it! It’s half dead already.”

“Careful boys,” the other pony warned, “these things can breathe fire like a dragons I hear.”

“I’ll give it fire,” Fuze laughed menacingly, “the fires of hell.”

Hefting his spear, the tangerine coated male advanced on the thestral until he was only a few feet away. The creature watched him approach in silence; it was unarmed and bleeding, the wet patches on his fur evidence of his close encounter with death. Sliver pulled her axe free, wincing in pain as a broken rib reminded her of its presence: but she had no time for that now, and tried to push it from her mind as she focussed on the situation before her. She’d bound her wing the best she could and could only pray to the Goddess it would hold. She gritted her teeth and readied herself - it wouldn’t take long, perhaps if she…

“DIE DEMON!”

Fuze lunged with his spear, his inexperienced thrust missing the thestral who had seen his attack coming in plenty of time. With a roar, the warrior lunged inside the spear, snatching the pony’s sword from its scabbard in his teeth and flicked it up into the air. Fuze yelped in surprise but he was fast too, dodging back as the thestral swung the sword out at his throat. In a frighteningly fast strike, the blade hissed through the air, narrowly missing its target by little more than a hairs breadth. The other ponies, initially taken by surprise, hesitated and then charged in to the attack, holding their axes in the mouths as they bore down on the outnumbered warrior.

Quickly switching targets, the thestral grabbed the sword in his forehooves, shifting his weight to his hind legs and brought the point of the blade around and up in a lethal arc that nearly decapitated one of his attackers. The pony staggered, his life essence gushing out while he pawed hopelessly at the wound, trying to hold it in. He gasped a final coughing blast of gore before, mercifully, collapsing to the ground in a steaming, oozing heap. The second pony’s blow was weak, barely more than that of a foal’s, but the axe was sharp and found a gap in the armour, biting into the flesh below.

The thestral shrieked in pain and anger. How dare these creatures attack him! How dare they! He reared, kicking out at the damnable thing, but seeing too late the spear thrusting up and under his armour, punching deeply into his chest; the warrior of the Goddess screamed his pain and humiliation out into the frozen night. Fuze bellowed in triumph, his face distorted in a rictus snarl, burning anger and hatred seething through him as he rammed his weapon deeper into his enemy.

Spitting blood onto the ground, the thestral suddenly snatched the haft of the spear in his teeth and pulled hard. Fuze pushed back, his muscles burning with the effort, but against the thestral, even as injured as he was, it was hopeless - the creature was frighteningly strong. With a final hiss of smoke and a muffled gasp, the black coated warrior pulled the spear out of his body and yanked it free of his assailants grip. In a sudden display of acrobatic skill, the spear spun in the air and its former owner found himself facing the sharp point, still slick with the thestral’s gore. The black coated warrior attacked. Injury and loss of blood were beginning to tell now, the potentially lethal thrust narrowly missing Fuze’s chest but still raking the flesh down his side. The pony yelled in pain and surprise, leaping back and quickly looking to his friend for support; saw an apparition of horror - another thestral. This one was standing over the still twitching body of its victim, pulling its blood soaked axe free with effortless ease. Fuze did the only thing he could do…he ran.

Sliver watched with disdain as the pony fled into the darkness of the forest. The foolish, cowardly creatures deserved nothing but contempt. The Legion on the other hoof had only ever followed the wishes of the Goddess, the Equestrian’s own Princess, and they had even surrendered, surrendered! There was no such word in the thestral tongue, no understanding that one could simply lay down your arms and armour, giving up your honour and your ancestry and what? Just walk away unharmed? It was simply unfathomable! The Goddess in her mercy had given the Equestrians a choice - join them or die. It was a fair choice, a good choice and one that was far too good for them. Now, after this ‘surrender’, the little rats had left their holes and begun murdering her people, her brothers and sisters, in cowardly attacks such as this. Sliver kicked the smoking pieces of the cart and its ruined supplies away as she fought her way to the dying warrior. The least she could do was comfort him in some way before he passed on.

He looked up at her weakly, his eyes dimming as blood ran in tiny rivulets from the numerous wounds on his body. The warrior smiled…

“Goddess…the…damned things got me…this time…eh, Sliver?”

The female thestral examined his wounds. There was nothing she could do, the warrior was fading quickly; soon he would pass on to the next world.

“Clinker, our ancestors are waiting for you. They will sing of your bravery.”

The stallion coughed, bright red blood dripping out from between his sharp teeth,

“Bravery?” he took a ragged, pained breath, “Not…not here…not to die…at…the hooves of one of these slab toothed…cowards.”

“We were ambushed, brother,” Sliver said calmly, stroking the stallion’s neck as she held him, “you avenged your brothers and sisters they murdered, you are a true warrior.”

“Am I?” he gasped, “We shouldn’t…be here, Sliver…this…this world is…wrong for us.”

“It was the place of our birth.” Sliver replied, “It will be our home again.”

“No…no, it could never…never…” the warrior twitched and shook, his eyes squeezed tight shut in pain as he tried to take one last breath, his mouth opening and only a strangled gargle emanating into the night.

Sliver leaned down and kissed him on the muzzle as she brushed his mane from his eyes. There would be time to mourn later, when she would sing all of them to the afterlife, remembering their deeds and their bravery. For now, she had to get away from here. One thing she had learned about Celestians, was where there was one, there were more than likely a lot more. She winced as a jolt of pain from her wing ran through her; she’d have to reset the bones soon and treat any infections. Thank the Goddess that she’d managed to recover some of the medical supplies from the wreckage. Hopefully, her rudimentary healing knowledge would be enough, or she could find herself joining Sliver sooner than she’d like. Trotting off into the forest once more, the thestral headed in what she hoped was the right direction for the regional command. With the Goddess on her side, she might even make it.

Nearby, a pair of deep purple eyes watched the thestral hurry away into the night.

****************************

Fuze collapsed onto the frozen ground, his flank burning like fire as several ponies gathered around him. One of them was nodding quietly to herself while she examined his injury,

“Get him into the shelter quickly, and bring the Lieutenant.”

The dun stallion winced at the way they pulled him up onto the makeshift stretcher, but at least he was safe, and alive. Gritting his teeth, Fuze thanked Celestia he had been able to avenge his brother as the stretcher began bobbing along. Those damnable things had killed his friends, well, one of them anyway. Limbo had always been a bloody idiot and it had only been a matter of time before he’d bought it. But that beast he’d faced…dear Goddesses, the speed! The power! How the hell was a thing that looked like a walking skeleton so damned strong? He himself was no weakling, he’d been raised as a farm hoof, and years of pushing and pulling heavy farm implements since he was a little more than a foal had made him what he was today: strong, tough and durable, just not fast…and that bloody thing had been fast. Damn the thing!

Fuze hissed in pain at the ponies touch.

“Keep his still, damn it all!” the medic snapped, “Celestia buck me, will you hold him down? How am I supposed to stitch him up if he keeps bloody well flailing about?!”

The medical pony’s horn glowed bright blue, the needle and thread digging into Fuze’s flesh, pulling it together. It wasn’t a deep wound, but it hurt…by the Goddess how it hurt! Fuze tried to stay still, but it was like he was on fire, burning from the inside out. It was that creature’s blood on his spear that had done it! The beast’s evil had seeped into him, turning him into…into one of them! A skeletal horse! A beast, a nightmare from the deepest pits of Tartarus! He had to tell them, he had to get away!

“For the Goddesses’ sake!” the medic snarled, “Get me more ponies here!”

Fuze mercifully began to drift into unconsciousness, the dark pulling him down into a deeper place, a safer place, away from the pain and fear of the waking world. Standing above his now unmoving body, the others finally relaxed. The medic shook her head,

“That should do it. What a bloody mess.”

“How is he?” The white stallion asked walking up to her.

The charcoal coloured mare wiped her bloodied hooves on her apron and spat on the ground,

“He’ll live, but he’ll have one hell of a scar.”

The Lieutenant clopped her on the shoulder, “Good work, Faith.”

“Yeah.” The medical pony shook her mane and sank to her hooves, “You can thank me by getting me some more needles and thread if you want this lot sewing up any more.” She grinned, “Got any baccy on you?”

The stallion shook his head, “I don’t smoke, Faith, you know that.”

“Huh!” she huffed, “I don’t know what she sees in you, you bloody misery.”

The white stallion rolled his eyes as his medical officer wandered off trying to scrounge up some tobacco. Insubordination would never have been tolerated before, but here, nerves were constantly strained and keeping a bunch of untrained, if rather overenthusiastic soldiers together, was a task that had been both challenging and oddly rewarding. He’d spent years in the army already, far too many…mostly sat on his arse. That wasn’t what a real soldier did, not in his mind. He’d wanted to see the world, to explore, to have adventures like the heroes had in his books on the war of the three tribes. Goddesses, how bloody naive had he been?

Trotting back to rest of his command, one of the older officers nodded to him and smiled,

“Get your lost sheep back, Cove?”

“One of them.” The Lieutenant replied.

“Damn…” the orange stallion lifted his muzzle, “Sorry old boy.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Cove sank onto the branch covered ground and shook his head slowly, “You disobey orders and this is what happens. I’ll speak to the others in the morning. Hopefully, this may be the lesson they needed.”

“Hell of a harsh lesson, Cove.” The older pony said with a sigh, “Hellishly harsh.”

The Lieutenant shook his mane, “We need to win, Starch, that’s all.” he yawned and stretched, pulling the cloak around himself as he moved closer to the brazier, “We just need to win.”

“No matter the cost, eh?” Starch asked.

Cove nodded, “No matter the cost.”

“How’s your wife doing?”

“She’s good.” The Lieutenant replied with a faint smile, “I got a letter from her this morning, threatening to kill me if I get myself killed.”

“Doubly dead, eh? Harsh.” Starch chuckled, twirling his large moustache, “My old girl’s watching the world go by from our villa in Llamalia. Probably the best place for her, wouldn’t you say?”

“I suppose so.” Cove said, snugging his cloak in.

Starch grinned, taking out his pipe, “Keeps her out from under my hooves, eh?”

“Mmm,” Lieutenant Cove took a deep breath and tried to think about what their next objective was going to be. Their orders had been exceptionally vague: to kill the enemy, disrupt their supply lines, destroy their homes, and to avoid confrontation wherever possible. Of course, it all sounded so bloody easy on paper, didn’t it? The explosives had been a Goddess-send though, the small casks proving to be exceptionally lethal when primed with an igniting agent. Unfortunately, the prospect of ‘payback’ as some had called it, had lead to idiots like Fuze rushing off to do things ‘their way’. By the time they’d realised what he’d done, the clown had managed to destroy a thestral medical supply wagon but also get two of his ponies killed. The scavenged supplies had come in handy of course, but the loss of two of their number killed and one injured had been a blow. Discipline was not something Equestrians seemed to have in large supply he’d noticed, but if he didn’t do something, this could spread like an infection through his group. Perhaps the reckless actions of Fuze, the death of two of their comrades and the shrieks of the injured pony as he was sewn back together would teach them more than he ever could. He sighed. Dray had been right: Ochre’s soldiers had been soft. Physically fit, yes, well drilled, yes, but when it came to combat experience and knowledge, they were hopelessly lacking. Fortunately Dray had assigned experienced officer like Starch to help form the mixture of veterans and civilians into cohesive ‘strike teams’ as he called them. Of course, he hadn’t seen Dray since…He shook his head. Damn it, he didn’t want to remember that now, he could still smell it…the smoke…

Taking a deep breath, Cove stretched out his hind legs and rubbed them with his forehooves. Goddesses above, if Dray found out he was here and not back with Fair Breeze, he’d be beyond furious. He’d made him a promise, and he’d broken it, but at least he’d broken it with the blessing of his wife. He smiled, remembering the small wedding; the way she’d looked up at him with those big eyes of hers…he wondered how she was getting on with the folk back home? The older ones had set up their own workshops making winter gear for the troops. He was wearing one of them now, a warm cloak and scarf. Cove lifted it with his hooves and inhaled…he could still smell her…

“Wish my old girl would send me things like that, Cove.” Starch noted, sending a plume of pipe smoke up from the corner of his mouth, “Can’t knit or sew worth a damn.”

“She doesn’t send you anything?” The Lieutenant asked in surprise.

Starch laughed, “Asked for a bottle of Llamalian Port you know, damned fine stuff it is too. Did you know they export over half a million barrels a year? Half a million!”

“What was it like?”

“Like?” Starch gave him a sly grin, “I’ve no idea, the old bag sunk the lot before I got to taste a drop!” He leaned back and winked at the Lieutenant, “Remembered to write to tell me how good it had been though, and even sent me a copy of the bloody receipt too!”

Cove smiled; the orange stallion had a way of cheering him from his melancholy that appeared as effortless to him as the act of drawing breath. He was a little eccentric of course - a lesser Lord from one of the southern counties, but one who was surprisingly down to earth for a pony he would have normally considered as ‘upper class’.

Starch stretched and leaned back against a tree, attacking an itchy ear with brute force,

“What’s next on the agenda?”

Watching him, Cove couldn’t help but chuckle, “An artillery supply dump.” The Lieutenant rolled out a map, weighting down the corners with stones, “We’ll be part of a wider scale attack that will begin with us hitting the Legion supplies here at Belle’s Orchard.” He tapped a small spot on the map, so small that Starch had to peer at it closely,

“Never heard of it old boy,” he replied shrugging, “what’s the lay of the land there?”

Cove reached over for his water flask, “Small town, about four to five hundred residents: a mixture of ponies, the odd griffin - the usual.” He took a pull of the water, “Recon shows thestrals and minotaurs, although mostly our two legged friends. There’s several new buildings, probably barracks, and the dump for high energy magical explosives.”

Starch sighed, “Guess it was too much to hope the griffins would only sell to us then.”

“Money talks, my friend.” Cove replied with slight shake of his head.

Studying the map, Starch’s pipe smoke curled up around him, dissipating into the night. The tree branch shelter they were in had been well put together, but was no real substitute for proper tents. Such luxuries however, would only slow them down. These raids were all about speed - hitting hard, and getting out fast with minimal casualties. He glanced up at the young Lieutenant,

“We’re the lamb for the lions, eh?”

“It looks that way.” The Lieutenant said solemnly, “Any thoughts? I’d appreciate the advice of an experienced hoof.”

Starch laughed, nearly choking on his pipe smoke, “Experienced hoof? Maybe at running away!” He shook his head, “Ahh, but no more eh? No more.” The orange stallion rolled his shoulders, “There’s a reason you’re in command, Lieutenant, it’s because your ponies respect you and trust you. We all do.”

Cove sniffed, “Because I know Dray?”

“No, because he respects you” Starch pointed a hoof at him, “He knows you’re here.”

“Oh, Goddesses…”

“Ha!” Starch barked out a laugh, “You think he wouldn’t find out? He has eyes and ears everywhere old boy. There’s no hiding from the great poobah.”

“I’m not going to ask…” Cove rolled his eyes, leaning back, “Let’s get some sleep Starch, we’ll need to be away from here first thing.”

“You think our over enthusiastic young warrior may have let some slip through eh?” The orange stallion asked.

Cove let out a breath, looking out into the night,

“Aye…I do. If there was something I learned, Starch, if it can go wrong…”

“It will go wrong.” Starch finished, “But of course my boy, the trick is to make it go wrong for the other poor sod.” He raised an eyebrow and smirked, making Cove smile in response.

He was right of course, but asking so much of such untrained ponies was a hell of a lot and, Cove hoped, not a step too far. It was up to himself now, as raw as he was himself in actual hooves on experience, to keep them alive. Thank the Goddesses for Starch and the others. With their combined experience and Celestia’s blessing, they may get out of this alive yet.

It was a few hours yet until they had to move, a few hours in which he could try and grab some much needed sleep. Tiredness was a killer, and for a leader, a poor decision made due to muddled thinking could cost them dearly. He prayed Fair was alright, and thinking of him. By the Goddesses good grace, all he wanted was for her to be able to live in a world without fear, where they could all live in peace. Drays family, those little foals, his loving wife…he had to do something to help bring this horror to an end so nopony else had to suffer, and Fair had known it too. Dray would understand.

Outside the shelter, something moved through the fallen twigs and snow, catching his attention. It was probably a fox, or some other woodland creature. The guard they had on was good, and it was excellent experience for the new troops, paired up as they were with the veterans. He shrugged it off and closed his eyes, though instinctively, his hooves reached for his sword. You could never be too careful.

In the darkness of the forest, a shape, blacker than the night…moved. Quickly and quietly it slipped away, careful to avoid making any more noise and escape the notice of the pickets. Sliver melted into the depths of the forest, her focus now fully upon warning the garrison and…She stopped and looked around. Was something following her? Her mane twitched nervously as she stared into the darkness. Goddess damn these creatures; if she hadn’t lost the use of her wing, she’d have been able to take flight and get to the garrison in plenty of time to lay an ambush for these arrogant…there it was again! What was that? She drew her axe, her heart rate increasing. It was probably some woodland dweller, but best not to take a chance out here on her own. With a deep breath, Sliver replaced her weapon, lowered her head, and charged off through the forest as fast as she could run.

On through the night, the thestral dodged between trees, rocks and across streams. Endurance was not a particularly strong thestral trait, but Sliver had always kept herself fit and healthy. Pacing herself, she calculated that she should reach the garrison by the following afternoon. It wasn’t far now, but her wing, broken and rendered useless from the explosion, burned as if it were on fire. She’d bound it tightly to her side, but each movement, every jump, every jolt, was white hot agony. She ignored it; there was something far more important at stake here than her wing. Her brothers and sisters were stationed at that garrison and she had knowledge that could help them defend themselves. Sliver hadn’t seen much of the Celestian camp, but there were enough of them to pose a very real threat and the magical explosive they’d use would deal death aplenty for the unsuspecting garrison.

The sun had risen and was already beginning to arc its was down towards the horizon when the snow began in earnest. It was probably as good a time as any to rest, and the water in the stream up ahead looked clean and inviting; as did the rabbit lying next to the campfire…

Sliver pulled up short and ducked back into the thick undergrowth, cursing her luck, but maybe it was one of their own patrols? Celestians didn’t eat meat of course, but griffins did, as did minotaurs. She waited, various thoughts and possibilities racing through her mind: should she skirt round the camp or wait to see who came? But then, she was so hungry…and the rabbit was fresh too…

Time passed with no sign of movement. Sliver shook her mane; she couldn’t wait any longer, nor could the garrison. Quickly, she snatched up the rabbit, wolfing it down before slipping back into the dappled light of the forest’s interior doing her best to remain concealed. If nothing else, there was always the chance a hunter may mistake her for prey and it would be wise to put as much distance between the camp and herself as possible, just to be sure. Dodging between the trees, Sliver moved off once more, picking up her pace and doing her best to ignore the protests her tortured body was making. She would make it to the garrison soon - she had to, for her brothers, her people…there were so few of them now…so few. Mother had told her to stay behind, stay and be safe, protected with the elderly in the tribal village - but who could even entertain such thoughts? She’d raged at her mother for daring to suggest such a dishonourable act of cowardice, an act that would have dishonoured not just her, but her whole lineage. Of course she could understand why: females who could bear young were becoming rarer with each passing year, the number of young surviving into adulthood depressingly low. She knew the reasons for that too of course - they all did. Endless fighting over resources and the thestral love of battle had lead them to the brink of extinction and now the homelands were near empty following the Goddess’s call to arms. Here at last was a chance, a chance to be free of the darkness and a chance of a new life in a new home, the home of the Goddess’s chosen. How could she stay behind and watch others go off to fight for their future? The future of her foals? She smiled to herself as she ran; the thought of childbirth was daunting and yet exciting at the same time - the prospect of taking a mate when all this fighting was over, equally enticing. She would choose well: he would be strong, brave, a warrior who had the scars of battle to prove he had been no frightened foal when the horns of war blew. Sliver would make her parents see her as a true warrior of the Goddess. They would be proud of her, they would…they would…

The world lurched.

She couldn’t breath. Overwhelming pain suddenly coursed through Sliver like a white hot knife, her stomach cramping and feeling like it was being squeezed by some monstrous claw. She gasped out in agony, collapsing to her knees. What the hell was this? Had she pushed herself too far? Again the pain came in a wave, threatening to overwhelm her. The thestral mare tried in vain to push herself to her hooves, trying desperately to push the pain aside and move on, but her legs simply refused to obey her. She was beginning to sweat profusely now, her stomach heaving up everything she’d eaten and more…blood. Sliver closed her eyes, willing this away, praying it was a passing malady; what was happening to her?

Painfully, she looked up, noticing the bushes move nearby. Framed in the dying light of the sun, a dark four legged creature emerged, his breath curling up around his muzzle in the cold air. Despite her wavering vision, Sliver could see he was a lithe looking stallion, covered in slim packs, belts and equipment, all of it designed to fit snugly and not flap around when the wearer moved. As he walked confidently closer, she noticed something else about him: the long fur and dark colouring. She gasped out a sigh of relief; he was one northern tribes, he could help her! She looked up into his eyes and tried to speak, her voice painfully dry and rasping,

“Help me, brother.”

The stallion walked closer, his oil black mane flowing over his long furred body. He cocked his head on one side as if thinking, and then took off one of his packs. Sliver closed her eyes. These ponies were adept at healing and other arts; if he could just help her that little bit further, she could warn the garrison. But, what if she couldn’t make it? What if…No, she had to tell him, he could warn them himself, in case she was…unable to continue. Sliver opened her mouth and paused. Why was he taking out that knife? She looked up questioningly into his deep purple eyes. The look of utter impassiveness she saw in them froze her heart, even as another wracking bolt of pain had her choke back a cry. The stallion leaned down to her, the knife held in his hooves. Sliver looked up at him, blinking back the sweat that stung her eyes,

“Why?”

The pony furrowed his brow a moment in thought, “Why?” he said, “Because some of us don’t want to live in your shadow, to be no more than servants to abominations that treat us as though we are nothing.”

“That rabbit…” Sliver whispered.

The pony raised an eyebrow, “Poisoned. You’ll die slowly and painfully if I don’t finish you now.”

“You…” Sliver choked, the blackness pulling at the edges of her vision, “You traitor! You would…you would betray…the Goddess?”

“She’s not my Goddess,” the stallion replied watching how the light reflected off his knifes edge, “Besides, it’s nothing personal, you understand.” He leaned down and with a quick thrust, opened the artery in the thestral mare’s throat. She choked, gasping out her breath, thrashing in an ever expanding pool of her own blood while the stallion looked on with emotionless eyes. He sat on his haunches and watched Sliver’s struggles quickly subside, her chest’s rise and fall gradually coming to halt as the mare’s spirit finally departed her tortured body.

The stallion wiped his knife and placed it back into its sheath. Calmly, he opened another pack and took out a sack, a small hatchet and a longer, thin bladed knife. Placing them beside the still warm body, he moved closer to Sliver’s neck and found the best place to begin. The blade glinted in the dappled light of the forest, reflected in the purple eyes of the stallion as he murmured half to himself and half to the dead thestral,

“It’s just business.”

***************************

It would soon be time. The ponies had their orders, the teams were all in position and the explosives distributed. When the time came, each of the various teams would move into position, place their devices and then get the hell out of there. They had their times, their locations, and the rendezvous set. Now, all Cove could do was pray that the operation would work as it should. Best of all, the thestral disdain for ponies had proved to have an unexpected bonus: their barracks had been built outside the town near the supply dump. They probably thought that out here in this remote place, they would be unlikely to be attacked. He intended to prove them wrong…very wrong.

Starch crawled up beside him, a telescope quickly appearing in his hooves,

“Doesn’t look like they’re expecting us, Lieutenant. Reckon we caught them napping this time, eh?”

“I hope to Celestia you’re right, Starch,” Cove moved back from his position and back into the cover of the trees, “these damn things have surprised us before.”

“True, but not so likely with minotaurs, I’ll wager.” Starch gave his mane a quick scratch, “Thick as bloody bricks that lot. Damned tough beggars though, I’ll give ‘em that.”

The young Lieutenant shook his head, “Still, I don’t like it. According to that damned fool Fuze, one of the thestrals got away. For all we know, we could be the ones going into a trap down there.”

“I doubt that.”

Cove jumped back as a heavy sack landed at his hooves. The long haired creature gazing at him had eyes that felt like they were boring into him: as cold as ice and as totally unfeeling.

“Who do I collect the bounty from?”

The Lieutenant blinked in surprise, but Starch came to the rescue,

“Five hundred a head wasn’t it?” the orange stallion said grimly, “Go and see the yellow mare with the green cloak over by the cart.” He pointed towards the sack, “Take that with you, she’ll settle up with you.”

Silently, the long haired pony nodded and then trotted back to where a number of ponies were busy organising small fast carts of supplies and gear. Cove watched him go,

“Who the hell is that?” he breathed.

“His name’s Flux,” Starch said quietly, “or at least, that’s what he calls himself. Bounty hunter.”

Cove shook his head in disbelief, “A bounty hunter? Good Goddesses, who’s idea was that?”

“Dray’s apparently,” Starch shrugged, “Helps us though, and Celestia has the backing of the nobles now so money’s not a problem.”

“He’s not from Equestria,” The Lieutenant said staring after the bounty hunter, “I know that much.”

“I suppose technically he actually is.” Starch said dismissively, “His kind are what we used to call the ‘grey ghosts’, or the ‘northern tribes’. Now that the barrier’s down, they’ve tootled along into the heartlands along with their thestral chums.” He looked over to where the long haired creature was collecting his money, “Damned glad he’s on our side though, eh?”

“The side that pays the most you mean.” Cove felt a shiver run through him. The look in that ponies eyes - that haunting stare. He knew that on some level, that stallion would not think twice about killing, without regret and totally without mercy. Good Goddesses, was this what war did to ponies? To think those cold purple eyes would be the last thing somepony would see…

The minutes passed, time inexorably fading from the future, to the present, to the past, drawing them towards what could well be their last moments in the plane of the living. Cove nodded to Starch, who hurried away while he himself went to join the first team. He checked his watch, the second hand clunking away, sounding horribly loud in the quiet of the long grass with only the breathing of the stallions and mares around him. Five seconds to go now…four…three…

“Let’s move.”

The team slipped down the hillside as silent as ghosts, their coats covered in a mixture of ash and mud, dulling the normally colourful fur of the Celestians to almost black as they approached the perimeter fence. The thing was quite well built, but there was one fatal flaw in the design: in their eagerness to set up away from the townsfolk, the Legion had, to avoid building partway up the incline, incorporated the stream that ran down to join the river. The fence had been altered here, with the addition of some stakes driven down into the bed of the stream. A little prying, using the naturally lower aspect of the terrain as cover, allowed the earth ponies to dig them out with relatively little effort. The use of magic here, with its attendant glow, would have risked giving them away. A few seconds was all it took, and with a flick of her hoof, the earth mare waved her colleagues through.

Cove kept low and on his belly, his white coat showing to a small degree from his shallow dip in the stream, but enough of him remained covered to do his job. Now, it was only a matter of getting their barrel into place by the barracks. All of his team were tense; he could feel it in the air around him - that intoxicating taste of excitement mingled with fear. They all had it, and they used it to drive them on. Ponies were herding creatures, and in numbers, in togetherness, there was strength - and it was cohesiveness they needed tonight. One of his team slid up beside him tapped him on the shoulder…

Damn it! A minotaur was lumbering around the corner of one of the buildings, the massive creature walking right towards them! Cove unhurriedly reached for his crossbow and flicked off the safety. Hell fire, it was too soon! They’d have to kill it and hope to Celestia that the…

It stopped, turning slowly, and sniffed the air. Suddenly, it made a strange gargling noise and walked forward a few steps before staring up into the sky. Like some monolithic tree felled by an axe, the bipedal creature toppled over, the moonlight catching off the bloodied shaft of the crossbow bolt protruding from the back of its skull. Cove looked around, just managing to see the shadow of one of their pegasi disappearing back into the cloud cover. He’d thank them later, but now his team had to play their part, and they had to move…quickly.

Nopony spoke: there was no need. Training in silent communications signals, albeit rudimentary, had been something Cove had developed as a personal hobby during his time in Ochre’s service - a time when he’d had far too much of it on his hooves. Now it was proving to be unexpectedly useful. Orchid, his fastest pony, took the barrel from Whisper and placed it beside the water butt where it wouldn’t look out of place. She set the timer, and withdrew. It was all…surprisingly easy. Cove and the others covered the door to the barracks where the loud noise of minotaurs soaking up alcohol emanated from the wooden walls of the building. If nothing else, it helped smother any sound they may have inadvertently made, but so far, so good.

Whisper nodded to Cove and the team began to withdraw to the stream, remaining ready in case the second team needed assistance, but Starch signalled that all was well with the barest glow from his horn. It was time to…

The first explosion went off.

Cove and his team were thrown around by the concussive blast like ragdolls, the bright green flash illuminating the area like some bizarre parody of sunlight that left a bright afterimage on his vision. Almost immediately, secondary explosions began to rip through the artillery dump, with barrel of explosives catching light and detonating, throwing shrapnel and other half burnt barrels out into the camp and, horrifyingly, the nearby town. Whisper gasped in shock, picking himself up,

“Lieutenant! The town!”

The falling barrels dropped from the sky like messengers of death, detonating in the streets, crashing through roofs and turning ponies homes into blossoming green flares of matchwood. Shrieks and cries rose into the night, not only from the now fully roused garrison, but from the town as well. Cove stared, unsure what to do. What the hell had gone wrong? Why…?

“Lieutenant! What are we going to do?!”

Cove stared in horror as another house was ripped apart, and there, in a window…oh Goddesses - a foal, held in her mother’s forelegs as a gout of flame blew out the glass and flared up the chimney. He had to help them! He…he shook his head. No, he had to pull his team out; saving them was the priority, they had to come first. He turned to the others,

“Withdraw, get back to the rendezvous.”

“But…!”

“-That’s an order, Whisper! You will do as you’re damned well told!” Cove glowered at the ash blackened pony and motioned to the others to head through the gap in the fence. Whisper glanced back at the scene of horror behind him and then looked back at the Lieutenant, his expression unreadable,

“Yes, Sir.”

Cove was the last to leave, watching the fire in the town take hold. There, amongst it all, he saw shapes, black winged shapes, flying up to windows and carrying down ponies from the burning buildings. He saw minotaurs smashing down doors and pulling out families, he watched as their own explosive detonated and ripped the barracks apart even as more of the garrison ran out to help the townsfolk. He could feel the heat from here, the screams of pain and fear tearing through his soul.

Something moved.

The Lieutenant stared in horror as from out of the smoke and noise, a broken and bloodied apparition appeared; a beast from the depths of hell, covered in blood with smoke rising from its smouldering coat. Eyes red as a smith’s forge locked onto him, staring right into him…it knew he was there, it could see him as plain as day. The thestral pause and glanced towards the town, then looked back at the Lieutenant. The creature’s eyes…oh Goddesses forgive him…those eyes…

The thestral snorted and then turned suddenly, charging off towards the town. Cove watched him go.

“Lieutenant!” Orchid hissed back, “We’re all through, you’re the last one.”

The Lieutenant nodded, crawling back to the gap they’d made. Pausing, just for a moment, the image of Dray’s family flashed through his mind: he could see them, he could hear them - it was Honeysuckle, Polo and Dawn Dew, trapped in the house, burning, crying for help…why couldn’t he help them? WHY?!

“Sir!”

Cove gave himself a shake, throwing off the intrusive mental imagery, “I’m coming.” He slipped under the fence, “Let’s go everypony.”

They ran, running for the concealing shroud of darkness in the forest. It wasn’t far to the rendezvous point, not far at all, but by the Goddesses, the young stallion just wanted to run - run forever. At least in the all encompassing darkness, nopony could see his tears.

The rendezvous was a mass of ponies all rushing to place the wounded and maimed onto carts amongst the provisions. Cove looked about at the bloodied and ragged ponies, quickly realising that his team was the only one that hadn’t been mauled in the raid. Starch was there, thank Celestia, but his ponies - they were…he shook his mane and hurried over to where the orange unicorn was being helped onto a cart,

“Starch! Are you badly hurt? What the hell happened?”

The veteran officer looked back at him, waving the medic away,

“Cove? Thank the Goddess you’re alright boy…” he let out a cough, wiping the blood away from his muzzle as he tried a weak smile, “hearing’s a bit knackered, few ribs beggared and all that. Dashed lucky to be still the full stallion I’d say.” He closed his eyes, letting the medic bandage his head, “Damned fuze was faulty and went off early. We lost a few of our lads and lasses because of that. Damned bad show, eh, Cove?”

“Aye,” Cove hung his head, “A damned bad show”.

“Come on now, chin up!” the orange stallion chirped, “We gave those rotters a damned good pasting and knocked a few years off the war I’ll wager.” He gave him a wink, “No sulking old boy, stiff upper lip and all that!”

Cove rolled his eyes, leaving the medic to do what he did best. They’d be moving off any minute and just as well, they couldn’t afford to hang around. Not that they really needed to have been in such a hurry though; the garrison, or rather what was left of them, were fully engaged in trying to save the town. Even up here he could hear the shouting and smell the acrid smoke carried on the breeze. Damn it…DAMN IT! He spat angrily on the ground and began adjusting his gear ready for the march, his heart now as cold as ice and his mind a battlefield of raging emotions.

Looking up, he saw the looks on the faces of the others. They were all thinking the same thing; they had to be - was this really the only way? Was there nothing they could do to bring this conflict to an end without more innocents dying? Dear Goddesses, what if…what if Ochre had been right, what if surrendering really was the best way? He didn’t know anymore, and frankly, he wasn’t going to think about it. He had a duty to his Princess, to Equestria, and he would do whatever it took to bring this horror to a close. He sighed, shouldering his pack and headed off with the rest towards their next destination. If there was one thing that he would remember from all of this, it was that war truly was hell.

Chapter Forty Four - What Blooms in the Darkness

Chapter Forty Four - What Blooms in the Darkness

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

WHAT BLOOMS IN THE DARKNESS

Winter, a time of sleeping nature and landscapes which hold a silent but deadly beauty that can snatch away the life of the unwary, or the unprepared. Sometimes, even the most experienced can find themselves taken by surprise by the fickle whims of nature, their lives snuffed out like a candle’s flame. Such were the lessons taught by the wise mare of the tribe of the Moon Goddess, a female who was respected, even feared by her own people. Bracken carried the two heavy bundles of wood back to the cabin, one slung either side of him in cradles that were uncomfortable ,but practical for the job at hoof. He’d settled in surprisingly well here;. Chalk was on his way to a full recovery and Neira had been teaching him in the healer’s arts. It was incredible the knowledge she held, and most of it was in her head too. She possessed a few books and scrolls, but those were mostly novels other members of the tribe had brought her to keep her amused during the summer months when they were back in the tribal homelands. Bracken had learned some of the history of this enigmatic people, but his knowledge of them was far from complete. In fact, despite Neira’s apparent trust of him, it was as if she were reluctant to tell him more of who they were. It did irritate him a little, but he had to admit, she had taught him more in those few months than he could ever have found out himself in a lifetime. What he was really interested in though, was healing, and Neira was more than happy to teach him. During the long nights and short days of winter, the long haired mare taught Bracken the arcane healing arts of her people. She didn’t hold anything back, and never admonished him for asking questions – if anything, Neira gave him the impression she was actually enjoying having somepony to tutor. Throughout it all though, Bracken had the odd feeling that this was something she didn’t do for just anypony, and the looks he’d received from the other tribal members had screamed at him just how ‘welcome’ he actually was there. When he’d mentioned it to Neira she’d simply shrugged it off as unimportant. Still, he didn’t like it, but so long as they could get Chalky well enough to travel and get home then it didn’t matter what the tribe thought of him.

Snoring softly, Chalk slept peacefully in his bed next to an empty bowl. The white unicorn’s appetite was back and he was recovering surprisingly well. His leg was still bound of course, but was getting stronger by the day and almost good enough to take his full weight. Unfortunately, trying to prevent him from leaping from the bed had been a task in itself and nearly resulted in a concussion from a thrown wooden bowl before Neira and Bracken had finally shoved the impatient unicorn back onto the bed. He couldn’t blame Chalk though; being confined in this cabin for months on end, not being able to walk without help - it was the boredom that was becoming the most telling in his friend’s behaviour. Bracken silently fumed inside at how long it was taking for Chalk’s leg to heal, and yet at the same time, he was secretly hoping it wouldn’t heal ‘too soon’ as that would mean…He sighed. He didn’t have to leave…did he?

Neira walked up to Bracken and helped remove his snow covered cloak. The weight off his back felt good, and he sat near down the fire to warm up while Neira re-appeared a few moments later with a roll and a hot cup of red bark tea which he accepted gratefully. He smiled at how he knew about these things now: even the simple things like which barks and leaves could be used for making tea, or where certain roots could be found to use in flavouring stews. It was eye opening just how ignorant of the world he had been before he met her, in fact the two of them seemed to be working, and even living together, better than he could ever have imagined when he first arrived there in the mountains. He felt comfortable around her, even if she did scold him occasionally when he botched potions or forgot incantations. But what was the most fascinating of all, were the ancient words of power that Neira had cautioned him against using except at the very edge of need. It was a language that could never be written, a language that had been used by the Gods at the creation of the world. They held incredible power, including the ability to call a spirit back from the brink of death. Bracken had quickly realised that this was what Neira had used to recall Chalk’s spirit back to his living body, and also how horrifyingly close his friend had come to dying from something as simple as a fall. Was life really so fragile? He shuddered at the thought. One moment you were here, the next…gone, just like that. Neira pushed in next to him and tapped his foreleg,

“Up.”

Obediently, he lifted his foreleg allowing the mare to inspect his hoof. One by one, she checked them all and nodded to herself. She was a little obsessive about hoof care, but he couldn’t fault her for being so careful. Out here, you were a long way from a trained farrier.

“I want those brushed and cleaned later, Bracken.” She said levelly, “I’ve made up a new batch of oil for them too.”

“Yes, Neira.”

“Never mind ‘Yes, Neira’ in that tone of voice.” She clucked her tongue, “Just do as I say or you’ll end up with damaged hooves.”

Bracken watched her. There was something about her today, something that spoke of irritation and a snippy edge to her words that had him worried. Something was bothering her,

“Neira? Is something the matter?”

The black mare walked over to the table and began tidying up. She didn’t look round at Bracken’s question, but replied with a cool, “No.”

“There is,” Bracken pressed, “I can tell.”

“No theres not!” Neira snapped, “And stop damned well asking me.”

Bracken sighed, “If you want to talk, I’ll listen, but only if you want to. When you’re ready.”

“Oh…stop being so bloody reasonable, you…you…!” Neira slammed a bowl down on the table, “Just…come and get your food while it’s hot. It won’t eat itself.”

Silently, the black stallion walked up to the table and pulled himself into the chair. Neira walked up behind him, her hooves quickly taking hold of his mane and moving it to one side,

“Can’t you even sit properly, child?” she tapped his hind quarter, “You’re sitting on your bloody tail too, come on, sit up…”

Bracken complied, allowing the mare to brush his tail out from under him. He frowned, watching her fussing and then walked away, tossing her mane. He’d had enough of this,

“Neira, I don’t know what’s wrong, but I want to know. I can’t help if you won’t speak to me.”

Neira span round, her eyes narrowing, “Nothing’s the matter! How many times do I have to repeat myself?” One of her ears twitched frantically. She turned away from him, her voice muffled, “Look what you’re doing to me! I never used to be like this, you’re killing me!”

“Me?!” Bracken exclaimed in surprise.

“Yes, you!” Neira stomped a hoof angrily, “Damn it!” She snatched her cloak from the rack and pulled it around herself in a fury, “I’m going out.”

Bracken watched helplessly as the mare flung open the door and charged out into the snow, slamming it shut behind her. He sat in the chair with his eyes wide open, staring at the now empty space she’d occupied only a moment ago.

“I’d go after her if I were you.” A half open green eye stared across the room at him from the bed, “You can leave the stew if you don’t want it.”

Bracken looked at his friend, the door, the stew, then back to the door…Should he go after her? Why? The silly old mare would be back soon enough wouldn’t she? But…but she was still his friend, and she was clearly upset. Something was troubling the kindly mare’s heart and here he was sitting in the cabin like a lump of wood doing nothing! No, not nothing, he would act, and he would do whatever it took to help his friend. Bracken jumped down from the table and took up the bowl in his mouth, carrying it over to Chalk’s bedside table,

“Here, greedy guts, stuff yourself senseless.”

The unicorn grinned expansively, “Oh, I intend to!”

Bracken moved quickly and grabbed his cloak, stuffing his leggings and snow shoes into a pack and taking Neira’s set with him too. The silly old bugger had left most of it behind. So much for all her lectures on preparedness! Halfway out the door, he looked back at the smiling unicorn. Chalk waved a hoof at him while he wolfed down the stew. Damn it, he’d been looking forward to that too! Shaking his head, Bracken pulled the door to and with a snort, charged out after the missing mare.

It was snowing again. It was always bloody snowing. As beautiful as it was, it was quickly covering Neira’s tracks despite him only being a matter of a minute or so behind her. Bracken pulled the hood of his cloak over his face, trying to keep the flakes from blinding him. How the hell had that mare moved so quickly? She hadn’t even taken her snow shoes with her and was still outpacing him! He moved on, pushing through the partially cleared paths that ran through the village and up towards the cleft in the mountain. He knew she’d be heading there, and then either to the cave or the pools, but something in her mannerism today suggested the most likely of the two was going to be the cave. Bracken couldn’t say why, or how, but he’d begun to understand Neira in a way he’d never done with anypony before. It was little things, the sort of things that may appear insignificant to some perhaps, but they still made a difference, like knowing just how to prepare her tea or knowing when she was tired and ready for bed. They were simple, small details that helped the two of them find their place with one another, despite the background moaning of a perpetually bored unicorn.

Bracken climbed up the slope of the mountain into the quiet of the great cleft. Snow was landing even down here, making the going a little precarious underhoof. Regardless, he pressed onwards towards the entrance to the cave. Finding it now though was simplicity itself; the connection Bracken shared with the elements of the world around him, the very bones of Equestria and the life that flowed through it, had become so instinctual he didn’t even have to think about it anymore. Tracing the lines with his hoof, the door slid open and the black stallion entered.

It never changed in here. The plants still glowed with that peculiar inner silver light, illuminating the interior of the cavern and reflecting off the small streams of crystal clear water. Bracken stopped to take a mouthful: it was delicious, incredibly fresh, and so pure it was indescribably different from anything he’d ever had back in the heartland and finer than the most expensive wines. Neira made her spirit with a mixture of berries and this very water, a concoction that was as delectable as it was potent. Unfortunately, Chalk had found out about that the hard way; Neira and Bracken had returned to the cabin one day to find him lying unconscious next to a half empty bottle. The black coated mare had been incensed, although more at Chalk stealing the spirit than anything else. The people of the tribe, it seemed, did not steal from each other. Bracken was just glad the idiotic creature hadn’t poisoned himself - these berries weren’t called ‘spirit’ berries for nothing. They had an effect on what he’d come to understand of as the ‘life force’, or ‘life energy’ as Neira called it, that every living thing had inside of them. The berries, she’d said, grew where the walls between the worlds were thinnest. Why they did, or how, nopony knew - they just did. She’d told him about the three worlds, or ‘planes’ as they were known. There was world of the living where they were, the world of the dead, and one other, the one where the thestrals came from, the one they called the ‘Wither World’. Neira had never seen it, and by the sounds of it, nopony in their right mind would ever want to.

Up ahead the first of the buildings came into view, quickly followed by the larger structures including the one he liked most of all - the one that held the books and scrolls. They were written in the language of the Crystal Empire, one he didn’t understand, and one that even Neira struggled with, but then she wasn’t really interested in it. To her, the buildings and their contents shouldn’t be disturbed. They belonged to somepony else, regardless of whether they had died long before she was born or not. In the tribe, you didn’t take that which was not yours, and it was a lesson he had taken to heart. The books and scrolls were never removed, only read and put back. Guiltily, Bracken had to admit he mostly looked at the books for the pictures, but he’d like to learn the language one day. Perhaps…perhaps he could…one day.

Bracken paused, somepony was up ahead; the voice’s were indistinct but he could definitely hear talking. Where was she? Straining his ears, he walked on, trying to locate the source of the voices. He’d not thoroughly explore this part of the cavern yet and with the lack of hoofprints on the rocky floor it was hard to see where, or even if, Neira had come this way. Bracken stopped again and listened carefully. It was hard to make out words, but it was her alright, the voices were coming from somewhere near the corner of a low building, beyond an archway half overgrown with the silver bushes. He hadn’t seen this before! Walking towards it, he saw how the ground suddenly dropped away forming a pathway carved into the very rock itself. Large stone steps furrowed from the hooves of countless ponies, disappeared down into the depths of the mountain. He had no lantern with him, but here and there, the silver plants had found a foothold and provided just enough light to help illuminate the way down. With an intake of breath, Bracken began his descent.

Several minutes of walking and the long winding steps finally began to level out. It wasn’t particularly cold down here, but he could still see his breath and, more importantly, hear Neira’s voice a lot clearer now. Part of him called to him to stop and listen to the conversation, another to press on and let her know he was there. Running through it all was the feeling that he was intruding somehow, that he shouldn’t be there. Good Goddess, she was going to wring his neck for this, he could see it! But…what else was he supposed to do? She was his friend, he couldn’t just let her wander off into the snow on her own, alone. He shook his head and walked to the end of the stairs where another archway opened out into…

“My Goddess…” Bracken whispered in shocked awe at the sight before him. There, in the centre of an enormous cavern, was…a tree. He had to look twice, rubbing his eyes in surprise, but yes, it was exactly what it appeared to be: a huge tree. There was the trunk, the leaves, the branches - everything as you’d expect from any other tree in the land, only this was on a scale that made him feel like an insect. He’d been all over Equestria, well…some of it anyway, and he’d never seen one this big! Surely somepony would have said something if they’d seen such a thing, there were certainly any amount of ponies willing to share their fantastical tales in the taverns, but he’d never heard of anything like this. What was really incredibly though, was how was it living down here? There was no natural light other than for the vast quantity of silver berry bushes, but there was certainly soil, even grass, and…He looked down at his hooves…it was! it was real grass! Celestia’s backside! When was the last time he’d seen grass?! Bracken felt like shouting in joy and throwing himself onto the ground and rolling for all he was worth, but now was not the time, now he had to try and find where Neira was. Fighting down his feelings of excitement at the new discovery, he closed his eyes and listened, trying to sense for Neira’s presence. She was here, and not far away, but the life energy flowing in this place was so overwhelming it was dulling his senses. Everywhere he looked the spirit berry bushes grew thick and lush, the sweet aroma from their vibrant crystalline fruit tantalising on the air. Bracken shook his mane and concentrated, looking for some clue as to where his friend was. Carefully walking through the bushes, just past the archway, was a quite clearly defined path leading through the silver glowing plants, alongside the thick deep green of the grass, and down towards the base of the tree - down to where two ponies sat, talking.

Bracken dropped down out of sight. He wasn’t really sure why, maybe it was his army training, but something was niggling at the back of his mind warning him to be cautious. Quietly, he moved closer, using the bushes for cover as he strained his hearing to listen to what was being said. He didn’t know who this other pony was, but she looked like a member of the tribe: that characteristic dark coat and long fur was a dead giveaway, but there was something different about this mare though, something that was niggling at him. He’d think about that later; for now though, he would just keep quiet, and listen.

“…and auntie has finally perfected her honey sponge too. I’ll have to remember to bring you a piece next time.” The young mare said conversationally.

Neira shook her head, “And how long has that taken? Purth was always hopeless with baking and I certainly wouldn’t trust her anywhere near my hearth again. The silly mare nearly burned my home to the ground making scones!”

The two chuckled.

The younger mare looked away wistfully for a moment, her expression changing, “Mum, look, I know you don’t like me to say anything, but i’m worried about you. You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

Neira rolled her eyes, “Oh, not this again!”

“Yes, this again!” The young one said with a bob of her head, “I know how stubborn you can be, and being alone out here when they go back is dangerous. What if something happened to you? You’d have nopony to help you.” She sighed, her ears flopping down, “I don’t like it mum, I really don’t.”

Neira clucked her tongue, leaning forward and gave the young mare a nuzzle,

“Myra, don’t, please, you know it upsets me when you talk about this. This isn’t the time to talk about these things.”

“But you never listen!” the young mare, ‘Myra’, protested, “There’s nothing stopping you going back to the homeland in the spring, the others will take you and…”

“And nothing!” Neira stomped a hoof, “I like being here and I like the quiet, so stop being a bloody worrywart.”

“I know why you stay here mum,” Myra replied quietly, “its because of me, isn’t it? If I wasn’t able to speak to you like this, if the King…”

“Don’t Myra, please.” Neira lifted her hoof pleadingly, “I’m an old mare, i’m not long for this world anymore and I want to move on. I want to come home and be with you all again.”

“Rubbish.” Myra snorted, “You always talk like this, about ‘how old you are’.” She waved a hoof and rolled her eyes, “You were saying that when you where twenty! You’re still young enough to take a mate and have foals mum and…” she stopped mid sentence, her head whipping round and staring right…at…Bracken.

“Ah…” She raised an eyebrow, “It would appear your ‘apprentice’ has joined us.”

Neira turned round and huffed loudly,

“Come on out then, child of the moon. If you’re that keen to eaves drop, you may as well hear what we’re saying properly.” She waved him over with a hoof.

Bracken swallowed and obediently rose to his hooves to trot over to Neira, keeping a safe distance between himself and the other mare. Noticing this, Myra walked confidently towards him, a grin on her face,

“You have a name?”

“B…Bracken, miss.” He stammered.

The mare looked at him curiously, a wry grin on her face, her eyes taking in every inch of him. He found himself staring at her eyes - they were beautiful, like two ice blue pools of mountain water. She had the same lithe yet sturdy build as Neira, her long haired coat was as black as coal, and her mane showed a slight purple tinge as she moved. Her cutie mark was a group of three waving white lines, that, like Neira’s, probably held some deeper meaning for the tribe. Bracken could hear his heart beating in his ears as she reached out to touch him,

“He’s…smooth, isn’t he…”

Neira said nothing.

Myra’s mouth curled up in a slight smile, “You didn’t say he wasn’t of our people, mother. Do the others know?”

“Of course they do.” Neira replied levelly, “And its none of their business anyway.”

Myra shrugged at her mothers response and began to walk around the black stallion, running her hoof along his neck and down his side, just as her mother had. Bracken was half expecting her to check his teeth too.

“A fine male. You would make good an excellent mate, and one with a brain too. If mother has finally decided on teaching what she knows, you should consider yourself honoured.” Myra looked back at her mother over her shoulder, “Is this the reason why you won’t be returning to the heartlands this year?”

“Th…this?!” Neira took a step back, “No! Myra, Bracken is…”

“-Bracken…” Myra cut in, her eyes sparkling, “He would be a good choice mother. I would approve of this mating.”

“You…” Neira’s cheeks flushed, “You will do no such thing! When your father died, I made a vow.”

“’No more stallions’,” Myra announced in a singsong voice, “we all know, mother, the Goddess knows how long you’ve banged out that old line.”

Neira lifted a hoof, her eyes going wide in shock, “Myra!”

Bracken felt like running for cover. The atmosphere between the two mares had changed dramatically from when he’d first found them, and Myra appeared to be enjoying baiting…her mother? Suddenly, he noticed what it was that had been niggling him earlier. Hidden in that thatch of hair, although short, but definitely there…Bracken lifted his hoof and blurted out the words before his brain could stop him,

“You’re a unicorn!”

Myra’s eyes went wide suddenly and then she stood back, her face a mask of surprise,

“Wh..where? WHERE?!”

Bracken pointed to her head, “You’ve got a horn!”

“Oh…oh my Gods!” Myra sank to her haunches, her forehooves scabbling at her head, “I…I don’t believe it! All these years, why didn’t anypony tell me? WHY?! OH GODS WHY?!” she collapsed to the floor shaking.

“Miss?” Bracken stepped forward, leaning down towards her, “I’m sorry, are you alright? It doesn’t matter if you’re a u…”

Muffled laughter rose from the shaking figure, a pair of ice blue eyes staring up at him with tears of mirth streaming down her cheeks. Bracken took a step back, his hackles going up.

“Oh Bracken!” Myra laughed, “You are fun!” She gradually got back to her hooves and looked over at Neira, “Mother, you have to introduce us,”

Neira sniffed, “I think you already know, but Myra, this is Bracken my…apprentice. Bracken, this is Myra, my daughter.”

Bracken stood liket a statue, unsure what to say. Neira had a daughter in the village? And she was a unicorn? What happened to all that ‘No unicorns in the tribe’ and ‘marked one’ rubbish? He coughed, clearing his throat nervously,

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Myra.” He said politely, “I didn’t realise you were living in the village.”

Myra chuckled, “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, Bracken, but sadly, no…I don’t live in the village.”

“You live here?” Bracken said in surprise. But…of course, it all made sense now, didn’t it? Neira’s daughter was a ‘marked one’ like Chalky; well, that was what the tribe called unicorns at any rate, and she was living here in the mountain as a sort of exile. Perhaps it was a sanctuary of sorts, and it certainly explained why Neira would come up here on her own from time to time.

Myra suddenly jumped forward and grabbed Bracken’s neck in her forelegs, leaning her head next to his. He tried to back away but the mares grip was incredibly strong.

“Would you like me to tell you a secret, Bracken?” She breathed into his ear.

Bracken gasped, “I…”

Neira stomped a hoof angrily, “Myra! Stop this!”

The young mare ignored her, “I don’t live in the village. In fact,” she suddenly nipped her captive’s ear making him squeak in surprise, “I’m not ‘alive’ at all.”

Bracken went rigid in fright and realisation, his skin suddenly feeling as cold as ice. He realised now, far too late, just why he’d felt so keen to avoid being detected earlier - It was Myra, the way the life energy here seemed to flow around her, dancing like it was forming some sort of bubble, but not actually part of her as it was with her mother. Neira walked up to them both, her expression one of anger and frustration,

“Myra, I said stop! What’s got into you girl?”

Myra rolled her eyes, lifted her head and snuffed Bracken’s mane,

“Mmm, the smell of stallion,” she gave her mother an inscrutable look, “…wonderful.” Suddenly kissing Bracken on the cheek, the young mare pranced away, her laughter echoing around the cavern, “Oh mother! I can’t believe it! After all this time, after all these years!”

“Its not what you think!” Neira protested.

“Of course not!” Myra smiled, nodding her head and tossing her mane, “You’re too old, remember? You keep telling me over and over. Perhaps…” she gave Bracken a hungry stare, “Maybe I should…”

Neira had had enough, the mare charging in between them,

“You will NOT! He is…”

Myra’s body language suddenly changed completely, her expression quickly becoming one of gentle understanding and love. She closed her eyes and nodded to her mother,

“Its time for me to go, they’re calling for me.”

“Myra…” Neira held up a hoof.

“Mum,” Myra took her mother in her forelegs and gave her a hug, “I love you.” Stepping back, an intense glow of light began to shine at the base of the tree, radiating out towards her, “Please, don’t live your life alone. Don’t deny yourself.”

“Myra.” Neira kissed her daughter on the muzzle, slowly parting from her as the young mare backed up into the light,

“See you soon” She gave Bracken a sly wink, “…you two.”

Silence fell as the light blinked out leaving Neira and Bracken along on the grass beneath the great tree. Bracken suddenly realised he’d been holding his breath when Neira walked up to him and gave him a hard look.

“I brought your snow gear,” He said helplessly.

Neira said nothing; her eyes gazed straight into his, an unfathomable expression on her face, and then, without another word, she headed for the stairs with her apprentice quietly following in her wake. Bracken kept his head down, his ears flopping. Goddess help him, he was in for it now! Why hadn’t he stayed back at the cabin and waited for her? It wasn’t like she was helpless, far from it, she was a strong mare with a mind of her own and…and…that bloody Chalky! Why did he listen to him? WHY?!

Reaching the top of the stairs, Neira stopped and sat down on her haunches, took out her water flask and began refilling it from the stream. An awkward silence hung in the air, making Bracken feel as if he should be saying something, anything, just to explain…but explain what? He had a horrible feeling that no matter what he said it would be wrong and only inflame the already angry mare. Instead he kept quiet, even while Neira took out the leggings, and scarf from his panniers. With a silent nod, he began to walk on towards the door…and stopped.

Neira had hold of his tail in her mouth.

“Neira?”

She said nothing, her eyes were closed and her chest was heaving. What was he going to do now? The mare gradually released him and sank to her haunches, her head down,

“What do you see.” She said in a bare whisper.

Bracken turned to face her, “What I see is my teacher, and my friend.”

Neira smiled sadly, “’Friend’.” She slowly rose to her hooves, “Come on then, friend, let’s go home.”

The two left the cavern, closing the entrance behind them. Neira remained silent, her head hanging slightly. Bracken shook his mane, he couldn’t believe it; Myra was her daughter? He could only speculate what had really happened to her, but at least she was safe with the herd now. How she had managed to appear there beside the tree, as real as he was, was simply unbelievable. Neira had asked him once if he’d wanted to see somepony, or if he’d wanted to get a message to them, but…to communicate with the dead? It was…wrong, so, so wrong, and yet it now looked as if the people who had been here in the past had purposely built those buildings to serve the tree and that gateway to the next world, or whatever it was. Or maybe there was another purpose? He wasn’t sure. What was troubling him now however, was that Neira was acting strangely distant, but he was quietly hopeful she would be back to her normal self soon. He took a breath and sighed; that was the problem with this place, and with Neira: she just couldn’t let go, and Myra knew it. Bracken called out to her,

“Neira? This way, I’ve brought our bathing things.”

“Hmm?”

Bracken rolled his eyes, “Come on…’mistress’.”

Neira looked up at him, her eyes unfocussed as if in a world of her own. Bracken tapped her on the rump,

“This way.”

He was worried about her; he’d never seen her like this before. Hopefully a hot bath and a chat would help, if she wanted to chat that was - she could be infuriatingly stubborn at times. Bracken’s hooves clopped along on the rocky ground, the sound echoing slightly and then disappearing into the clouds of sulphurous steam as they entered the enormous cavern with the hot bathing pools. It was a matter of some routine now: their usual pool, the same spot they chose each time for the towel. They even entered the same way, one after the other. He grinned to himself; it was like they were an old married co…He froze. Goddess above, was he really so dense? Myra’s words came back to him, the way Neira had looked at him. He squeezed his eyes shut a moment and turned back to her. She was stood a few feet away, her head hanging sullenly with her maroon eyes downcast.

“Neira?” Bracken asked.

“Hmm?”

“Would you like me to undress you?”

“Hmm…what?” She blinked.

Bracken walked over to the mare and began undoing the clasp on her cloak. The large thing was usually easy enough to unfasten, but doing it for somepony else was proving to be more of a task than he’d expected as his hooves slipped and clattered over the smooth metal suface. Clucking his tongue irritably, he tried again, inadvertently bumping his muzzle into Neira as he did so. She gasped and jumped back,

“What are you doing?!”

Bracken rolled his eyes, “Trying to help? Or are you intending to bathe fully clothed?”

Neira didn’t seem to understand the jibe, instead she looked confused, and then furious,

“I don’t need help!” She snapped, “I’m perfectly fine. I don’t need the help of…of…anypony!”

Shrugging, Bracken neatened up the pile of his own gear and walked slowly into the pool. The heat soaking into him felt wonderful, an immediate rush of warmth and relaxation that had him groaning in sheer bliss. He closed his eyes and let the water ease away all the tension he’d been building up while beside him, further away than was usual, Neira lowered herself in.

“Myra has your coat,” Bracken said quietly, “she’s a very pretty young mare.”

Neira sniffed, “We all look pretty and young in there, hadn’t you noticed?” she leaned back and shook her mane out, “It’s only out here you look old and wizened.”

Bracken ignored the comment, “She has your spirit, and the same fire in her. I could see it in her eyes.”

“She’s damned well…” Neira slapped a foreleg into the water, “Oh, what’s it matter. She does what she does and says what she says - she’s her own mare now.”

“What happened to her?” Bracken asked quietly.

Neira closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, “She died.”

Bracken stared down into the water, “I’m sorry.”

“How can you be?” Neira replied levelly, “You didn’t know her, nopony did! Not even me! Not even her own mother! Not…not…” her voice began to fade.

“Neira, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” Bracken said gently, “I’ll still be here for you.”

“Ha! Will you?” She retorted, “I’ve heard that before! Bloody stallions, you’re all the same. You come and you go as you please, leaving nothing but widows and orphans in your wake while you swan off to fight in your pointless wars!” She gave him a hard look, “Where’s Night Rain now then?”

Bracken frowned, “Who?”

“Forgotten already eh? Poor girl.” Neira shook her head, “You think I’m a fool don’t you?”

“You know that’s not true, Neira.” Bracken said, “You’re the wisest mare I’ve ever met.”

“Wise?” The black mare thought for a moment and then leaned back with a sigh, “If only I were.” Neira sat up in the water and rubbed her eyes with her foreleg, “If I were wise, I would have done what you thought I’d done.”

“Hidden her in the cavern?” he asked.

Neira nodded, “I was in training when I became pregnant, and as much as I tried to hide it, soon everypony knew. When Neira was born, they all saw what she was…a marked one.” She took a breath, “It was a scandal, one my mother quickly ‘dealt with’. Myra was taken from me and…and I never…I never even had a chance to hold her. I barely even saw a glimpse of her.”

The pain in Neira’s voice was all too apparent. The young mare had had her foal snatched away and…the rest didn’t bare thinking about. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what she’d been through, and it was something that had haunted her all her life. He stretched his hindlegs and felt the heat travelling up them,

“What about Myra’s father?”

“Him?” she snorted, “A quick fling to get rid of some stress, that was all. I was drunk, and he looked like a fine sort of fellow, and then along came Myra.” She leaned back in the water, “You know the rest.”

“This is why you stay here isn’t it?” Bracken replied, “To be near to her.”

Neira sighed, “Partly. I wasn’t lying when I said I enjoyed the peace and quiet here. I don’t need anypony else cluttering up my life. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”

“I know…” Bracken said quietly. He’d have to get out soon, his chest felt a little tight in there all of a sudden.

Yawning, Neira stood up, her soaking mane sticking to her neck, “Bracken, you don’t have to stay here with me, you know. I know you want to get your friend home and…”

“-I want to stay here, Neira.” Bracken cut in, “If you want me, I’ll happily stay on and work hard as your apprentice.”

“Damn it, listen to me!” She snapped, “You have somepony waiting for you, don’t you? I know you do.”

Bracken stared up at the clouds of steam rising above him like smoke, the smoke of Nightmare Moon’s mane and tail. Did he love her? He wasn’t sure. It all seemed as if those moments, those encounters with her, had been nothing more than her toying with him. When she was there with him, his heart cried out for her, screamed for her with a desperate passion, but…when was the last time he’d thought of her? He wasn’t sure - in fact, the only certainty in his whole miserable life, or so it seemed, had been the decision to stay here in mountains. He nodded to himself,

“I want to stay here, Neira. If you want me to leave, I will, but if you want me to stay, I will.”

“You can’t put that sort of decision onto my shoulders, Bracken!” she protested loudly.

The black stallion rose up out of the pool, steam pouring off him in equal measure to the water,

“But it is your decision to make. I’ve told you what I want and now it’s up to you to decide whether you want me to stay or go. It’s your home that I’m staying in after all, Neira.”

Neira pushed forward through the water to face him, her eyes smouldering, “You’re as bloody stubborn as Myra!” She furrowed her brow, “Fine then! If you want to stay with an old mare in the middle of nowhere and throw your life away, then be my guest.”

“Remember I told you that I wanted something that was for me and me alone, Neira?” Bracken said quietly, “You showed me the cavern, you showed me how to connect with the world around me as I never had before. Good Goddess, Neira, I’ve seen things other ponies wouldn’t believe, and now, now I think I know my own mind and heart well enough to know I am making the right choice.”

“You’re a bloody idiot!” Neira shouted, stomping her hoof, “By the Goddess’s grace I knew letting that unicorn into my home would bring misfortune! And…and…” She hung her head and let out a loud sigh, “Come on, lets get out. This heat’s getting to me.”

They dried off, dressed, and head out onto the mountainside. It had stopped snowing at last, and the sun was just beginning to dip on its inexorable travel towards evening. Bracken pulled his cloak in around himself and smiled; the days were noticeably longer now, thank the Goddess, but summer was still a long way off. Unexpectedly, he felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect of seeing how the mountain would change when the warmer weather came. Neira had told him about the strange flowers that grew here, the different creatures that came out of hibernation, but also about the frightening beasts that inhabited the area as well. Fortunately they rarely attacked ponies and it seemed the creature that had attacked the foal had been injured and unable to hunt its usual prey. The child who’d been attacked, Silt, had thankfully made a full recovery too. He was lucky, the Neera didn’t often leave you intact. Bracken had been surprised too, when the hunter, Jal, had suddenly appeared at their door one day with a new rug. Without much more than a grunt, he’d hoofed the rolled up skin of the Jarra to Bracken and just walked away. That was, for the most part, all they’d seen of the other residents since he’d arrived. He shook his head in wonder. They were a strange people.

The walk back felt a little strained, but Neira had recovered some of her spirit judging by the way she walked. She was a fit mare for her age, and surprisingly nimble for such a large framed pony. Still, she wasn’t as big as he was. If she had been, that would have been…well, strange. He smiled to himself, wondering what it would be like to be with a mare that was…He suddenly thought of her, of the Goddess, and cringed inwardly. Suddenly, the reasons for joining the army, for getting away and forgetting everything and everypony, seemed more reasonable than they ever had. Nightmare Moon, the Goddess of the night…had she really had Pickles murdered? Had she really done something so cruel, so…evil? He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about that, all he wanted to do was get in and have a cup of that spirit and…

“Oof!” he’d bumped right into something, or as it turned out, somepony. Rubbing his muzzle, he looked up to find it was the mare he’d first encountered after his unceremonious landing on the Jarra. What was her name again? Hesta? Yes, that was it. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words died in his mouth as his eyes followed the gaze of the brown coated pony…“Chalky?”

Bracken stared. He couldn’t quite understand what he was looking at; it couldn’t be his friend, he was still in bed in the cabin and probably thieving Neira’s drink again. And yet here, before him and a group of cloaked ponies, a large wooden post and cross beam had been erected between the cabins; tied to it, splayed out like some horrific hunting trophy, was a bloodied, bedraggled white unicorn. Bracken was frozen in place with shock. This wasn’t happening was it? It was another trick of the mountains, he was dreaming or…oh Goddess…oh no…

“By order of the Goddess, all spies are to be put to death.” A voice announced from beyond the throng of cloaked ponies, “This Celestian has been found being harboured in territory belonging to her Divine Majesty.The traitors amongst you shall be weeded out and dealt with. Any of you who knowingly hide these traitors to her Divine Majesty will similarly be dealt with.”

Bracken pushed his way through, desperate to reach his friend, only to be roughly shoved in the chest by a huge armoured creature. He remembered them all too well: he’d fought them, he’d killed them, and now the monstrous things were here to plunge his world and his friends into darkness. He reached for his sword, realising too late that he’d left the damned thing under the bed along with Chalk’s gear. Quickly, Bracken began edging away from the throng. If he was careful, he’d be able to get to the cabin and his weapons - there weren’t many of the things, only what...four? Maybe five? He figured he could take two or maybe three with the crossbow, the sword would do for the rest. He glanced up at Chalk. The bastards had really done a number on him. The poor sod was black and blue, with blood seeping down his muzzle, but at least he was alive. They’d tied him to that wood like…he didn’t want to think about it. He had to get him down, he had to move.

Bracken snuck around the back of the cabin, quickly slipping in through the front door and found his sword and crossbow where he’d left them. As quickly as he could, he loaded it and was back out the door. He couldn’t delay now, Chalk was still recovering and what these filth had done to him would only make things a hell of a lot worse. He had a plan, but he’d have to be fast. Hurrying to the side building, Bracken pressed himself up against the wall, watching for the thestrals to turn his way, but their attention was all focussed now on the mare walking towards them. Damn it! Neira!

The black mare threw back her hood and addressed the thestrals,

“Who are you?” She asked in a loud authoritative voice, “And how dare you enter our village and attack our guest.”

The tallest of the thestrals fixed her with a red eyed glare, “You are the village elder?”

“I am,” Neira replied, “my name is Neira. And who, are you?”

“I am Lieutenant Falcion of the First Order of the Royal Inquisitorial Inspectorate Command.” He lifted his muzzle and stared down it at her with undisguised loathing, “And you are under arrest for harbouring the enemy.”

“And you’re a cock.” She replied tossing her mane. Bracken cringed, he knew who she’d picked that phrase up from! He edged closer while she continued, “This pony saved a foal who was about to be eaten alive and this is how he is repaid?” Neira stepped out from the crowd of ponies and addressed them, “Our people understand what it is to repay a selfless act, Lieutenant. I’d have thought thestrals would have understood that as well. Perhaps I was wrong?”

The black armoured creature’s eye twitched, “How dare you! You slab toothed sub creature, you are nothing! Your kind are nothing, and soon, all of you shall be taught to know your place.” He sneered at her, “You are prey animals…nothing more than cattle.”

Neira snorted, her maroon eyes glinting in the sunlight, “Your arrogance is a poor reflection of the faith the Goddess has placed in you, thestral. Your kind have treated us like dirt from the moment you arrived in our home, and one day, she will see you for what you truly are and send you back to the hell that spawned you.”

The situation began to escalate rapidly. The thestral officer reached behind him and unbuckled his axe while the tribesponies simultaneously reached for anything to hoof: axes, swords, spears, all of them appearing from under their cloaks as if they had been expecting something like this from the very beginning. The rest of thestrals drew their weapons, the Lieutenant screaming in anger as he turned to one of his warriors who was holding a spear,

“Kill it!” he yelled, waving at Chalk, “Kill the Celestian!”

Obediently, the thestral warrior lifted his spear towards Chalk’s chest as behind him the ponies surged forward. The Lieutenant and his warriors replied with the roar of fire and in moments, the scream of battle engulfed the village. Bracken was already running, his unloaded crossbow dropped into the snow before the thestral with the spear had even hit the ground. He reached Chalk, but without a ladder, there was no chance of getting him down without risking more injury. He needed help, but the once quiet village had suddenly become a bloody, screaming battlefield of blood and death. What the hell could he do now? There was only one thing he could do: he drew his sword, took a breath, and plunged towards the thestrals.

The armoured creatures were packed together, hemmed in by the furious villagers. The look of anger and sheer hatred on their faces was terrifying and the thestrals were quickly being swamped. Two were already down, the last three backing up and spewing out gouts of fire to try and give themselves some room. It wasn’t having much effect however, as the cloaks of the tribe did little more than smoulder and steam under the onslaught, allowing their wearers to press in with their attacks. Bracken leaped up, his sword held in his forehooves and brought the blade down in a savage arc that nearly decapitated the first thestral he reached. The last two noticed him too late, one turning just as Bracken’s sword came up under its throat and opened it to the chill air. Crimson blood poured out onto the churned ground, steaming like the hot pools in the cave, but Bracken didn’t stop, his mind was focussed with deadly intent on his enemy, the last thestral - the Lieutenant.

The creature blasted fire at him. He’d had it before, he didn’t care, he wanted this rats life and nothing, nothing was going to stop him now. The thestral officer’s wings snapped out and he lowered his stance, preparing to leap into the air, but Bracken was already on him, wrestling the vile thing to the ground. The beast snapped at him with its viciously sharp teeth, receiving a hoof in the face in reply that cracked its jaw with a sickening crunch. Stunned, the Lieutenant was rapidly set upon by the rest of the villagers as Bracken pulled himself away, leaving the thestral to his fate. Wiping his muzzle, he looked about at the morass that had once been the centre of the village only moments ago, the pristine white snow now soaked in blood and the bodies of villagers and thestrals alike. Behind him, the cries and yells of the villagers faded into the background…his eyes drawn to the crumpled mass on the ground.

He saw her.

Bracken dropped his sword and walked towards the cloaked ruin and dropped to his knees. He already knew...Lifting her in his forelegs, he cradled her head and closed his eyes as grief took him…He already knew…

Hesta walked up beside him, leaning on her spear, “Bracken, your friend’s alive, we’ve taken him back to your cabin. He’s going to be alright.”

The black stallion said nothing. He barely heard the words; all he wanted to do now was hold her, his mentor, his friend…Bracken could feel his heart screaming in rage and torment, crying out in horror at the world, at it cruelty, its unfeeling injustice…it was pointless asking why, he already knew the answer. The world didn’t care, it just…was. He gritted his teeth, riding the surge of anger and pain, feeling it coursing through him like a tidal wave. Tears stung at his eyes while he pressed his muzzle into Neira’s fur. She was still warm, yet the life, that wondrous, precious spark, had gone. He let out a breath, his voice low and empty,

“Help me with her.”

Hesta called two of the others over, the two ponies waiting for Bracken to tell them what to do. At his instruction, the broken body of the mare was lifted and gently placed upon his back, while a shovel was strapped to his pannier. As carefully as he could, Bracken began the walk up the mountainside, taking his mare home.

He felt every jolt, he felt every step…he would remember it all. She had given so much both to him and Chalk, the least he could do for her now was this. Hesta, the black and brown mare followed in silence. He didn’t care, all he could think about was Neira - she was all that mattered now. He carried her through the cleft in the mountain and into its heart, carrying his loss, his guilt, and his pain with him. Along the winding path between the silver spirit berry bushes and down the long steps into the cavern with the tree, he walked. Silently, Bracken crossed the field of sweet grass, before he reached a place beneath the sheltering braches.

Bracken dropped to his knees, letting Hesta help him gently lift Neira from his back and lay her down on the lush grass. Carefully, he took out the grooming kit and placed it beside her. Memories assailed him; the way he’d brushed her mane, the feeling of closeness as she’d lifted his and ran the bristles through it, fussing over the tangles and knots that he always seemed to have. He smiled sadly, trying to make her comfortable, placing her cloak beneath her as a blanket. She looked so young, so vibrant. Neira was a mare in her prime of life, with so much to live for. He’d help her look her best, even with his clumsy and fumbling hooves he at least could brush out that magnificent mane and tail. Neira would look wonderful by the time he’d finished: her coat would glisten in the silver light, her eyes gleaming above the knowing smile that made his heart race so. It was…it was…

“Bracken? It’s alright, she’s safe here now.”

A hoof on his shoulder gave him pause, and he looked up into the ice blue eyes of Myra. She smiled down sadly at him,

“She’s safe.”

Bracken turned away, returning to his brushing.

“Bracken?”

The black stallion’s voice was echoing and distant, “Myra, I failed her. I should have stayed with her.” His voice quavered, “That should be me there, not her…not her.”

Neira’s daughter shook her head, “I know you would have done your best, Bracken. Mum wouldn’t have trusted just anypony with her knowledge.” She glanced at Hesta, “Help him.”

Hesta moved up but Bracken lifted his hoof, “No. I was her apprentice, I was the one she trusted. This is for me to do and nopony else.”

Hesta nodded, “I understand.”

“Bracken…” Myra sat down beside him, her eyes glinting mysteriously in the silver light, “The body is only a vessel for the soul. Neira no longer inhabits this one, you don’t have to…”

“Please Myra…” Bracken whispered, “Please…”

The mare closed her eyes and walked round to sit by Hesta. If they were talking, if they just sat in silence, Bracken didn’t know, nor care. Neira had to look her best, and she would. It was the least he could do. Soon…all too soon, he finished.

“Myra, what do your people do…” He took a shuddering breath.

The young mare, bowed her head, “Usually we cremate the dead, returning their ashes to the world.”

Bracken closed his eyes, “No. I don’t want that, I don’t want to…to burn her.” He looked up at Myra, “I want to bury her here, beside the tree, where she can become one with the place she loved. He gave her a questioning look, but Myra nodded, smiling,

“I think she’d like that.”

Taking up his shovel, Bracken made the first cut into the earth, carefully removing the turf and then digging down. Here she would rest, here her body would slowly return to the land, helping to nourish the tree, the grass and spirit berry bushes. Her people would remember her, he would remember her, he would…always…

*****************************

“Hey big guy, waddaya think, eh?” Chalk leapt up and down, virtually spinning with excitement, “No pain! I feel great!”

“Yeah, thats good news, Chalky.”

The white unicorn stopped and stared at his friend, “Bracken, come on dude, I know you’re hurting but you can’t let it rule your life. You’re still young for bucks sake! You’ve got the world to explore!”

Bracken shook his head and began gathering their equipment, food, water and everything else needed for a hike through the mountains. There was only one thing wrong…

“Hey, where’s your stuff?” Chalk asked curiously.

Bracken continued packing without looking up, “I’m not going with you.”

“Eh?” Chalk had a double take, “Come on now, don’t take the piss.”

“I’m not.” Bracken sighed, “This is my home now, Chalky. These are my people.”

“Your what?! Have you lost the plot or something? We’re nothing like these guys!” Chalk stomped around the room, tossing his mane angrily, “For the Goddesses’ sake, have you seen them? They’re all like long haired, dark coated miseries! Have you ever seen one smile?”

“Chalky, shut up.” Bracken grumbled.

“I damned well will not!” the unicorn snapped, “I know what this is about Brack, I’m not that stupid.” Chalk advanced on Bracken and poked him in the chest, “Neira’s death was not your fault, and you know it too, even if you won’t admit it to yourself.”

Bracken gritted his teeth, “I said shut up, Chalky! You’re really starting to wind me up!”

“Good!” Chalk said angrily, “ Somepony needs to, you’re being a complete cock about the whole thing and I damned well know for a fact that Neira wouldn’t have wanted to see you throw your life away like this.”

“What do you know about it!? Nothing, that’s what!” Bracken shouted suddenly shoving his friend away from him, “You didn’t know her! You spent most of the time pissed out of your skull on alcohol while she did everything she could to help you recover. I was the one who spent time with her, I was the one who was learning who I really was inside, I was the one who lo…” he shook his head suddenly, “Don’t you bloody well tell me how to live my life!”

Chalk sniffed loudly, “Well I am, so I guess its just tough then isn’t it? Celestia’s arse, Brack, you’re supposed to be the sensible one, now you’re acting like a total tool.”

“You’re the one whose…” Bracken let out a loud neigh and snatched up his cloak, “I’m going for a walk. Try not to get yourself crucified while I’m out.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Chalk shouted after his friend, “You flounce off, you big filly’s…”

The door slammed shut.

Chalk stormed over to the bed and began packing the last of his gear, all the while swearing under his breath about the mindless boorishness of ‘bloody earth ponies’. What the hell was wrong with him? Bracken had been acting strangely ever since the Princess had pulled that spell out of him, and don’t even get him started on the mystical mumbo jumbo the bull headed twit had been spewing since they arrived in the village! The black stallion had discovered some sort of ‘inner karma’ that he used to ‘align his cosmic energies’ or some such crap. There had to be something in the food they were eating that was making him like this, or maybe it was in the drink? Chalk wandered over to the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of the spirit,

“Yup, definitely ‘something’ in it”, he muttered to himself taking a mouthful, “Damned good though.” And what Bracken didn’t see wouldn’t hurt him, right? He snuck another bottle into his pack.

Meanwhile, Bracken, blissfully unaware of his friend’s pilfering, pushed his way through the snow and up towards the cleft. Most of the villagers avoided this place, even Hesta, who hadn’t wanted to return after they’d buried Neira. In actual fact she’d refused point blank and the villagers had carried on with their reclusive existence as if nothing had ever happened. The dead had been cremated and their ashes returned to the earth; as for the thestrals, they had been…disposed of.

The Yarra would feed well.

Inside the mountain, Bracken walked up to the tree and lay down beside Neira’s grave. Small flowers had begun to bloom here - tiny white snowdrops and another blue flower that he didn’t recognise. He’d thought about a headstone, or some sort of memorial, but it seemed pointless somehow. Nopony came here but him, and he carried her memory in his heart wherever he went. It was only now, far, far too late, that he’d realised how he’d really felt about her. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh; it was too late… Bracken leaned down and sniffed the flowers. How they’d gotten there, he had no idea, but their gentle fragrance helped to sooth his aching heart. He shook his head slowly. That bloody unicorn…

Bracken had been back here nearly every day since Neira had died. Yet after he’d laid her body to rest, he’d never seen her, nor Myra again. In a way, it was a relief, he’d felt strange about speaking to Myra in the first place and he held the belief that once somepony had moved on, it wasn’t right to…well, to bother them really. Besides, how could the living move on if they were tied to the dead? And yet…here he was, lying beside the grave of the long haired black mare. By the Goddess he missed her. Bracken got up and walked over to the glowing silver bushes and plucked one of the crystalline berries. He’d been warned by Neira not to eat them here, due to her belief that you could somehow ‘overdose’ on life energy. He supposed she was right, but couldn’t really see what harm it would do to just have one. Besides, would it really matter if anything did happen to him? He chuckled to himself; it was all hopeless anyway when you boiled it down, wasn’t it? Pickles, Neira, who was next? Fate seemed hell bent on killing everypony he was close to and had had a damned good go at killing Chalky too. It was only by the grace of the Goddess that he was still alive. In fact, if there was one common denominator in all of the misery that followed in his wake, it was Bracken himself. He was the Jonah, he was the black pit that sucked down any and all light into its eternal darkness. He shouldn’t be here, he didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to be anywhere or be anything. He was just so tired of it all, all he wanted was to sleep, and let the damned world keep its misery to itself.

Bracken took the berry and placed it on his tongue.

It was a strange taste, a little sharp, but not unpleasant. Biting down, the juice burst out with a sweetness that was unlike anything he’d ever eaten before. There was a hint of the flavour that he had from Neira’s liquor, but that was nothing compared to this! He ran it around the inside of his mouth and sighed. It was so good! He took another, munching through it and feeling its warmth and sweetness shiver through him. Good Goddess, he couldn’t stop eating the things…

“Trying to kill yourself?”

Bracken froze, one of the berries halfway to his open mouth.

“I thought better of you than that.”

The familiar voice made Bracken’s heart leap into his mouth.

“My apprentice.”

He closed his eyes, not daring to look. Was he hearing things? No, not here. His heart was beating so loudly he thought it would burst, his stomach was churning, his legs shaking…he whispered her name,

“Neira.”

The voice sounded bemused, “The very same.”

She was close now, right beside him in fact. Bracken felt an electrifying jolt of fear and excitement run through his body from his muzzle to his tail; not daring to open his eyes, he could barely even breathe. Oh Luna help him, he shouldn’t be here! He shouldn’t have come! Just then, something warm and furry pushed up against his muzzle sending a shock through him and making his knees twitch. A new scent wafted over his nose, tantalising…inviting. With so many thoughts and emotions all clamouring for attention in his mind, Bracken felt like squeezing himself into a ball - much to the amusement of the newcomer. The voice purred in his ear,

“Don’t you want to see me?” She gave him a little push with her muzzle, “Open your eyes, my Bracken.”

‘My Bracken’. He’d heard that before, when others had claimed him: Pickles, the Goddess, and now Neira, all but one of them suffering because of him, all…because of him.

“I’ll nip your ear if you don’t behave.” Neira chuckled, “In fact, I just might anyway,” her voice changed to a whisper, “they look delectable.”

With a squeak of fright, Bracken jumped away, stumbling as he tried to stop himself from falling onto the grave. Horrifyingly, he felt his legs tangling themselves and pitched him forward into…

“Well! That was a surprise!”

Bracken gasped as he found himself hanging in the outstretched forelegs of a familiar black mare, her maroon eyes bright with life. He stared into them, his fear melting away as his emotions surged. Tears stung the corner of Brackens eyes. She was here…dear Goddess…it was Neira.

Without another word, Bracken leaned forward taking Neira into an embrace, his tears now flowing freely down his face and soaking his coat. He didn’t care, he was with her, he was with Neira.

“I’m sorry,” Bracken gasped between sobs, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Neira shushed him, rubbing his back as he shook with grief,

“Why?” she said quietly, “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m with my family now; I’m with Myra, my mother, my father, they’re all here with me.”

Bracken held her tightly, his voice muffled from burying his muzzle in her mane,

“I want to be there too, I want to be with you.”

Neira smiled, “But why? Bracken, you have a life here in this world, you have friends and those who love you.” She tried to move away but he clung to her desperately, his words rolling out, filled with pain and desperation,

“I know what it was I wanted. It wasn’t the cavern, or the ruins…” He finally let her go, his eyes bloodshot with tears, “It was you…it was always you,” Bracken sniffed, “I...I didn’t realise it until…”

The black mare gave him a light nuzzle, “You really are hopeless.” She lifted her hoof, using her foreleg to brush away his tears, “Look at you, you’re a mess.” Neira suddenly looked away, “I…I suppose I am too…” she turned back to him, her eyes brimming with tears, “It’s your fault, you bloody idiotic stallion!” In a flash she grabbed him and pulled him into a tight embrace, rubbing her head up against his neck, her breathing deep and breathy, “It’s all your fault…”

Abruptly, Neira stood back, beckoning Bracken to sit beside her on the outstretched cloak and produced a small basket which she held up to him with a smile. He sniffed the contents,

“They smell wonderful!”

“My sister’s honey cakes,” Neira said happily, “she used to be the worst cook in Equestria, but now,” she shrugged, “she bakes cakes.” She slid nearer to him, twisting round to brush her tail out of the way, “Would you like one?”

Bracken nodded, “I’d love one.”

“Close your eyes then.”

“Eh?” Bracken furrowed his brow, then dutifully obeyed, closing his eyes and waited.

Neira’s voice sounded gentle, feminine and exotic,

“Open your mouth.”

Bracken waited, and then it came. The soft moist taste of freshly baked cake, drizzled with honey, pushing against his lips and then crumbling slightly as it entered his mouth. He went to take a bite and paused - there was something else here, something soft, warm and headily enticing. The black stallion moved into her, feeling the mare’s lips against his, sharing the honey flavoured delicacy as a moan escaped her throat. Bracken’s heart leaped, his forelegs entwining with his mare’s in the sweet taste of cake and…Neira.

Beneath the tree, two worlds met, if only for the briefest moment in time. Bracken and Neira held each other, their breath mingling in the cool air and heady scent of the lush grass and berry bushes. It was a moment that Bracken wished could last forever; right there, right then, he wanted nothing more than to go with her into the light he knew would come all too soon to take her back to her new home. There were some things that you couldn’t change: death…was one.

Nearby, a pair of ice blue eyes watched them quietly from the cover of a thick group of spirit berry bushes. Myra smiled quietly to herself. Fate was harsh, but sometimes…sometimes love could find a way. It just needed a little push now and then. Chuckling to herself, she wandered back down the other side of the hill out of earshot. As much as she was overjoyed at the sight of her mother’s happiness, there were some things that were private, and this was definitely one of those.

**************************

Neira lay across Bracken’s neck, her forelegs draped over his chest and a warm feeling in her chest. He was a wonderful stallion, he was strong and brave, a true warrior…she hummed quietly to herself, taking in his scent. Her coat was becoming distinctly uncomfortable, and urgently needed a clip. Summer in the eternal herd was, to be truthful, very much eternal. Of course, she could have opted for colder climes, some creatures naturally favoured such places, but the sunshine and blue sky, the thick green grass and golden fields of wheat - oh, and those apples! So sweet! She loved it there, it felt…right. All she needed now was something to fill her heart as she’d always wanted, and here it was, or rather he was, dozing quietly beside her. How she wanted to take him back with her! She took a deep breath and sighed it out. It wasn’t fair, but then, what was? Bracken felt guilty for trying to save his friend, and she felt guilty for putting herself in harms way and breaking his heart. She didn’t know how he’d felt about her, and after that time here when he’d first met Myra, when he said she was…a friend, her heart had cracked like glass. She should have known, she should have realised then! But now…now at last, she did. If only she could stay with him, just a little longer.

“Neira?” Bracken murmured.

“Mmm?”

Bracken snuggled into her, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I know,” Neira said gently tousling his mane, “I don’t want to.”

“I want to come with you.”

Neira closed her eyes and took a breath, “I know, I…I’m sorry, Bracken, but…I’ll wait for you, if…if you want me to.”

Bracken twisted around so he was facing her. With a smile, he tapped her on the nose,

“Stop that! I know you better than that, Neira.” He leaned forward and kissed her, “And you know how much I want to be with you,” Bracken nuzzled her softly, “always.”

“Oh Goddess, I love you so much, you bloody stupid stallion.” Neira grabbed him and pulled him into a hug, “I’m hot, sticky and my hearts racing. And look at my mane! It’ll take days to get this right again!”

Bracken laughed, “I like that look, you look…wild.” He growled low in his throat, “Like nature untamed, a mare who will take what she wants and has a mind like a razors edge.”

“Ha!” Neira scoffed, rolling Bracken onto his back, “You think you know me, do you?”

“I think I know enough to know that I love you.” He chuckled.

Neira paused, closing her eyes, “Oh, Bracken.” She leaned down and kissed him, “You want to see nature untamed?”

“Mmm”

She suddenly grabbed him, “I hope that cake gave you some energy, my stallion…you’re going to need it.”

“Mother?” Myra’s voice called out, “MOTHER?”

Neira clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes in frustration, “Damn it, just when I was getting to the good part too.” She pulled Bracken into a deep kiss before finally, breathlessly, letting him go, “I promise you, I will wait for you Bracken. Time isn’t the same in the herd, and it’s such a wondrous place, I want to share it all with you…but don’t…you know, don’t do anything…silly.”

He knew. Bracken closed his eyes and nodded, “Will I be able to see you again? Here, like this?”

Neira sat up, looking across at her daughter who was feigning shocked outrage at seeing her mother in such an unflattering position,

“I don’t know, my Bracken. The King it seems has a soft spot for ‘situations’ like ours and especially the children of the night, but contact between the realms is usually strictly prohibited. It appears we have friends in high places.” She tapped him on the nose, “I’ll have to butter him up with some more honey cake.”

Bracken smiled, “Neira, I want to stay here in the mountains. I want to be part of the tribe. I want to be near you.”

Neira smiled sadly, “I don’t know Bracken, I used to think that this was where I belonged too, but…” she glanced at Myra, “You need to move on, my love. Don’t waste your life wasting away here, there’s a whole world out there that could benefit from a certain black earth pony stallion.”

Bracken sat up in alarm, “But if I move away…”

“I’ll always be with you,” Neira placed her hoof on his chest, “here, within you.”

Bracken nodded, “And I with you, my love.”

Neira climbed off him and gave herself a shake, “Come on, I want you to see me off with a smile.”

Myra trotted over, “You’d better behave yourself out there, mister stallion, or I’ll be waiting in the afterlife with a lump of wood with your name on it.”

Her mothers eyes went wide, “Myra!”

Myra shrugged dismissively, “Just saying.”

Bracken gave Neira a final embrace, kissing her gently on the nose,

“See you soon.”

Black forehooves suddenly grabbed him and pulled him into a deep kiss, taking his breath away. Neira’s eyes sparkled like diamonds as she finally let him go,

“Look for me where the spirit berries grow,” she said huskily, “you’re an earth pony, you can see them for what they are.” She groaned as the light began to envelop her, “I will be there, my stallion. I love you, Bracken, I love you with all my heart.”

Bracken lifted his hoof, “I love you too,” he called, “my mare.”

The black stallion sank to his haunches, watching the light wink out while the world re-arranged itself, leaving him alone beneath the tree. Strangely, he felt…alive, happier than he had in ages. He turned and headed back towards the path, letting out a sudden whoop of excitement and broke into a gallop, charging up the stairs and out through the cave. He didn’t stop until he reached the cabin: hot, steaming and utterly exhausted. Crashing in through the door, Bracken made Chalk jump in surprise, the startled unicorn leaping back as if the black stallion were going to kill him. Bracken smiled, his heart soaring with a joy and levity he thought he’d lost. Neira was safe, she was with the herd, but she was safe. He trotted over to his bed and began pulling out his gear,

“Chalky, get packed, we’re leaving in the morning.”

“What?! I thought you wanted to stay here?” Chalk asked in amazement at his friends sudden change of heart.

“I do.” Bracken paused a moment, “Sort of.” He shrugged, “Let’s just see if we can find this bloody wizard first though, eh?”

“Oh, hell yeah!” Chalk returned to his packing, “What’s brought this on all of a sudden?”

“Somepony with a lot more sense than I have, gave me a good talking to.” Bracken grinned, “I just needed somepony to show me the way forward, that was all.”

“And that’s looking for this wizard?” Chalk shook his head, “I thought we’d agreed to go back?”

Bracken snorted loudly, “After all this time? We may as well try. I’m going to ask the others before we go, somepony in the village may have heard something.”

“Huh, so long as it doesn’t involve more bloody snow, I don’t mind.” Chalk wrestled with his panniers, “I’m fed up of cold and I want to get out of this bloody cabin too. I’ve never been so bored in my life.”

Bracken smiled. He liked it here, it was near the cavern, near his beloved mare, but now she wanted him to move on and live the rest of his life rather than gradually fading away in the emptiness of the mountains as she had. One day, when his time here was done they would be together again, and what stories he would share with her!

Morning came with the sound of snow dropping off the cabin roof with a loud rumble and thud that had Chalk leaping from his bed and instinctively reach for his sword. Being out here, after everything they’d experienced, had all but made the two ponies nervous wrecks. Bracken rolled his eyes and yawned, pulling the covers off himself. It was early, far too early really, but they’d need to make a start sooner or later. They’d get their gear together and be away soon, but first they’d need to have some breakfast and then see Jal and Hesta. Those two had already agreed to help guide the two friends out of the mountains and back into the heartlands. Sadly, neither of them had any idea about any wizards, which wasn’t that surprising considering how reclusive the tribe was. What really wrankled Bracken though, was the complete indifference most of the tribe had to the death of not only Neira, but several of the villagers as well. They were an enigma, all of them. Perhaps one day, Neira would tell him more about them. He smiled to himself - hopefully that day wouldn’t be too long in coming.

There was a knock at the door. It was Jal.

“Thestrals.”

He stood back, allowing Bracken and Chalk to hurry to the doorway.

“Hell fire! I should have know they’d come back here looking for their missing goons.” Chalk turned to Bracken, “Thoughts?”

“There’s too many of them,” he replied, “we wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Bluff it out?”

Jal pointed to Chalk, “You could not pass as one of the people, but you could.” He nodded towards Bracken, “You were closer to the Elder than any of us.”

The implication was clear. Bracken sighed, throwing his yak cloak over himself,

“Get yourself under the bed, Chalky, and keep your bloody big gob shut.”

Chalk pulled a face and disappeared back inside. Just before he shut the door, he peered out at his friend,

“There’s going to be two loaded crossbows in here. Any of the buckers starts arsing around, they’re going to find this unicorn less of a pushover than their mates did.”

Bracken pushed him back in and shut the door. The last thing they needed was a heroic last stand from an enraged unicorn. He gave himself a shake,

“Come on Jal, let’s go meet our guests.”

The two ponies walked towards the centre of the village, the place that had, not that long ago, been a scene of blood and suffering. Now, it was as quiet and peaceful here as it ever had been. Bracken stood waiting with his heavy cloak covering him and making him look, for all intents and purposes, like any other member of the tribe. Jal stood beside him, his short spear hidden beneath his cloak. A window shutter twitched closed on one of the nearby cabins, leaving just enough of a gap to see. Bracken gave himself a shake. He knew already that the rest of the village wouldn’t hesitate should they come under attack, but if he could avoid fighting, he would. There’d been enough death here in this tranquil place.

The first of the thestrals flew in and landed a few yards away while several of the others circled the village before taking positions on the perimeter. The creature before them was around average height and sleek, its armour as black as its hide and covered in sharp protrusions. A wicked looking battle axe was strapped to the things back beside a heavy crossbow. Bracken resisted a knowing smile; several of them had been trained on the newcomer the second its hooves had hit the ground.

The black armoured equine nodded to him, the first time he’d seen anything even approaching civility from these things,

“Who is the village elder here?” it asked.

Bracken nodded, “I am.”

The thestral paused, looking at the pony before him with a look of confusion,

“And you are?”

“I am Bracken, apprentice to Neira.”

“Yes…” the thestral looked around himself and gave his mane a shake, “Do you have a place we can talk, Elder?”

Jal spoke up, “Tyrei’s cabin is empty, we could use that, but the fire has not been lit for some time.”

“That will do,” the thestral said hurriedly, “I want to get out of this cold. Could you provide some hot drinks to my warriors?”

Jal nodded.

The thestral bobbed his head, “My thanks. Elder Bracken, I am Raise, First Captain of the Second Spearhead.” He smiled, “Please, forgive my sudden arrival, however I was hoping you may be able to help us.”

Bracken’s mind was in a whirl. The blue eyed creature before him was speaking to him as if he were an equal. Why? What was this thing after? He felt his hoof twitching, but maintained his decorum,

“If it is within my power to help you, First Captain, I will do so.”

“Excellent!” the officer leaned over to help Jal lay the fire. He waved him off a moment later when he produced the tinder box, “Please, allow me.” With a quick intake of breath, the thestral shot a thin stream of flame into the fireplace which quickly caught and took flame. In short order, warmth began to trickle out into the room.

“Thank the Goddess,” Raise said with a sigh of relief, “I thought we were going to freeze to death out there.” He sank to his haunches and took off his helmet, “Elder Bracken, I’m sorry to trouble your village, however I’m looking for a missing patrol.”

“A missing patrol?” Bracken asked.

Raise nodded, “One of the Inquisitorial units failed to report back. They were out looking for Celestian incursions into our lands, but we haven’t heard from them since and they are well overdue.” He looked up at Bracken, “Have they been this way?”

Bracken shook his head, “No, I’m sorry First Captain, your patrol has not been through here. I fear the mountains can be especially treacherous this time of year.”

“I can believe it.” the thestral replied solemnly, “I knew as soon as they went past the date to report back that we’d lost another group. Those damned Celestians are ambushing our warriors wherever and whenever they can.” He shook his head, “I lost my son last week, and my mate the week before that.” He barked out a laugh, “I expect I’ll be next to join the Goddess if this keeps up!”

Bracken didn’t reply. The thestral had lost his ‘mate’ had he? His son too? These murdering filth had murdered his mare and what, he wanted sympathy? They deserved everything they got for the pain and horror they’d brought down upon his new home. Dear Goddess, he could still smell the smoke from the cremation fires, the iron of the blood on his cloak…the blood of his beloved Neira…He jumped as Jal reached over to him and placed a hoof on his shoulder. Raise gave them a curious look,

“Is everything alright?”

Jal cleared his throat, “Forgive us, First Captain, we lost our last elder only recently. It was a devastating loss for the tribe.”

“Oh,” the thestral officer bowed his head, “I’m sorry for your loss. Forgive me, It was insensitive of me to talk of these things.”

Bracken gave the officer a curious look, “You…don’t seem like other thestrals I’ve met, First Captain.”

“Don’t I?” Raise shrugged, “I expect it’s because I was one of the first to arrive in Equestria and make contact with the tribes. I’ve been around the children of the night for such a long time now, I sometimes think of myself as one of you rather than my own people. I think I drove my mate mad with the stories I told her of my time here.”

“I expect tribal society here is similar to that in your home.” Bracken replied.

“Not at all.” Raise took a cup of tea from Jal with a nod of thanks, “Your people are more of a” he waved a hoof, looking for a way to describe what he was thinking, “…semi nomadic hunting society, made up of smaller groups. Our society is made up of tribes, yes, but they are much larger and we are raised from birth as warriors. Few of us, mainly the young, sick, weak or elderly, become the farmers, the labourers and the food gatherers of our people.”

Bracken’s interest was picqued, “Why so many warriors?”

Raise laughed, “It is our way, as this,” he indicated the room around them, “is your way. As well teach a fish to fly or a bird to swim.”

Bracken wasn’t going to point out he’d seen both. “What do you intend to do when the war is over, First Captain?” he asked.

The thestral took a sip of his tea and sighed, “Ah, well, that’s an easy one.”

Bracken raised an eyebrow, “It is?”

“I want to be a farmer.”

“But, you said…”

“In thestral society, remember.” Raise explained, “Here, in Equestria, the land is very different. Have you seen the soil, here? It’s so rich, so full of life! Imagine being able to grow living things, to see your trees full of fruit, the long rows of golden wheat and barley. My friends think me strange, but I’m not the only one, Elder, many of us tire of all the endless fighting, and endless wars.” He tapped his helmet, “Anyway, the war is over now. We just need to deal with these terrorists and then I can get down to the serious work of planting. The only enemies I want to deal with then are grubs trying eat my apples!”

Bracken shook his head in amazement, “I hope you find your peace here, First Captain, I truly do.”

Raise smiled, “Thank you Elder. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I must get back to my troops. I’m going to have one last look round and then…”

There was a commotion outside, and then the door opened. To Bracken’s astonishment a grey unicorn walked in with piercing yellow eyes,

“Ah, Raise! I thought you’d be here where there’s a fire and drinks. Who’s this then?”

The thestral waved his hoof, “Lord Maroc, this is Elder Bracken and his associate…?”

“Jal.”

“Jal.” Raise echoed, “Elder Bracken, Jal, may I introduce Lord Maroc of the tribe of the Four Winds.”

“Mmm, a pleasure.” Maroc said bobbing his head dismissively, “Raise, we’ve found that ‘inquisitor’ fellow and his team, or what’s left of them anyway.”

Bracken felt a chill run down his spine. They’d found them?

“All dead I take it?” Raise asked, apparently knowing the answer already.

“Oh yes, very.” Maroc shook his black mane and stretched his legs, “I dare say they’ve give some poor Jarra stomach ache by now.”

“All of them?” Raise looked shocked, “Jarra’s got them all?”

“Buggered if I know.” Maroc replied yawning, “There’s not enough bits of them left to make a whole one, if you follow me. Anyway, the armour’s all there ready for collection; I had my boys collect it ready for your lot to pick it up. I’ll give you the location later.”

Raise bowed, “Yes…thank you, My Lord.”

“Mmm” Maroc rubbed his eyes, “Anyway I’m off, I’m bloody knackered. Vela was at it all night the little beggar, ‘bad dreams’ and all that.” He clopped Raise on the shoulder, “See you around, and don’t let them catch you sneaking into ponies cabins for sly cuppa’s now will you?”

Raise laughed, “No! Perish the thought.” He shook his head, “I’d better report this back to command though.” He looked at Bracken with a helpless grin on his face, “More bloody paperwork.”

The grey pony chuckled, heading for the door and paused, looking back over his shoulder, “What did you say your name was again?”

Bracken’s mouth had gone dry, “E…Elder…”

“Oh never mind.” Maroc disappeared out of the door, “All look the bloody same to me…”

“Sorry about that,” Raise whispered after the grey unicorn had left, “Lord Maroc’s a little, um…eccentric. His kind don’t get on too well with, well, anypony actually.”

Bracken stared after him in surprise. Who the hell was that?

Raise hoofed back his cup to Jal, “Thank you for your hospitality, gentlecolts, but I’m afraid that’s my cue to leave. May the Goddess bless you and your people, Elder.”

Nodding, Bracken watched the thestral leave the building and allowed himself a well deserved sigh of relief. Dear Goddess, he hadn’t expected that! Giving himself a shake, he walked outside where the rest of the thestral warriors had assembled and were talking with a number of grey coated ponies who all looked very similar to this ‘Lord Maroc’, or whoever he was supposed to be. Incredibly, they were all unicorns too. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he’d been overindulging in Neira’s alcohol. Thankfully though, they all looked like they were preparing to leave, and there was a general shaking of those huge dragon-esque wings from the thestral contingent. How the grey ponies were going to leave though was anyponies guess; they didn’t appear to have any winter gear on or even be bothered by the cold. The strangeness of it all wasn’t lost on Bracken, but…why were they all looking up into the sky like that? He followed their gaze and groaned - there were even more of them approaching. He glanced at Jal who just shrugged. Suddenly peace and quiet seemed like a good alternative, but perhaps he was just unused to the company of others after being in the mountains for so long. He sat and waited.

The new group of thestrals landed with little ceremony, but their officer walked up to Raise with an air of bombastic authority,

“Well, any sign of them?”

Raise nodded, “They’re gone, First Spear. Lord Maroc’s patrol found the remains.”

“Remains?” The newcomer asked, furrowing his brow.

Raise nodded, “Jarra’s”

The ‘First Spear’ snorted loudly, “And you believe this nonsense do you? That some wild beast can defeat an entire squad of my troops?” his eyes flared, “Did any of the villagers see anything?”

Raise shook his head, “No, it doesn’t appear as if patrol came this way.”

“Really?” The tall thestral looked around the village, snuffing the air, “You there!” He pointed towards Bracken, “Are you the village elder?”

Bracken nodded, “Yes, First Spear.”

“Are you certain the patrol didn’t pass this way?” The thestral asked.

“I am”

The officer snorted, “I don’t believe you.”

Jal shifted his stance, the others suddenly stopping what they were doing and turning to watch.

“Their mission was to check for infiltrators and any villages were to be searched.” The senior officer stomped a hoof, “This village was on their patrol route and you say they didn’t pass here?”

Bracken gritted his teeth, his hackles going up immediately. He didn’t like this creature, nor the beasts attitude,

“I have already answered that question.”

“Have you now?” The thestral sniffed the air again, “There’s something odd going on here…” Suddenly, he locked onto Bracken with a hard stare, “Remove your hood, sir.”

Bracken froze. What was the bloody creature talking about? He gave himself a shake and complied; any aggressive stance could, and probably would, lead to a fast and very bloody end, both for him and the villagers. Confidently, he rolled down the cowl of his yak cloak.

Nopony looked surprised. Maroc even shrugged, “Expecting a unicorn, Arc?”

There were a few sniggers behind the tall thestral as smoke began to rise from the corners of his twitching mouth. He bared his teeth angrily,

“Silence! The Goddess may tolerate your insubordination, wendigo, but even you are not immune to…”

Maroc’s eyes narrowed, “-If you wish to continue living, thestral, then I suggest you don’t finish whatever it was you were about to say.”

The atmosphere was changing dramatically, the thestrals and grey ponies who only minutes earlier had been laughing and joking together, began to separate. Raise quickly intervened,

“Arc for the sake of the Goddess, watch your tongue! The wendigo are our allies, show some self control will you?”

Arc hissed angrily at the First Captain and ruffled his wings,

“I want to see these…” he paused, then slowly turned, staring at Bracken with his burning eyes, “You…I have seen you before…”

Bracken shook his head, “I don’t believe you have, First…”

“-It was at a village…” Arc’s eyes narrowed, “It was you! You and that damned unicorn!” he lifted his hoof, “This is the one the Goddess herself has been looking for!”

All eyes were suddenly all on Bracken.

“Seize him! Search the village!” the thestral shouted grimly, “The white one can’t be far away.”

“What’s going on?” Raise shouted over the sudden din of thestrals drawing weapons, “I don’t know anything about this!”

Arc gave him a superior look, “You are not privy to all the Goddesses thoughts…First Captain.” He waved a hoof, “Search everywhere, and bring him to me.”

Shouts went up around the village as windows and doors were suddenly flung open before the skeletal warriors could reach them. As if by some unspoken command, crossbows appeared by the score, villagers armed with spears and axes held at the ready surrounded both the thestrals and the grey ponies. The tension was rapidly building to a lethal peak until Lord Maroc suddenly laughed out loud, his voice echoing around the village,

“Well, you have your answer, Arc. What are you going to do now?”

The tall thestral stallion glared hatred at the ponies of the village, smoke and fire rising up from his muzzle,

“You…traitors! All of you! You DARE to defy the Goddess?”

Bracken took a step forward, “I do not defy the Goddess, Arc.” He smiled, “I just defy you.”

“Why you!” the thestral reached back for his axe, “Kill them! KILL THEM A…”

He never finished his sentence as a hoof smashed into his jaw and he fell into a crumpled heap at Bracken’s hooves. Maroc stood over him, shaking his hoof,

“Bloody hard jaw on him…ouch!”

Arc’s thestrals were quickly the centre of attention.

“I suggest you stand down, unless you want to create a diplomatic incident, gentlecolts,” Raise said levelly, “Remember where you are.”

The grey unicorn walked up to Bracken and gazed into his eyes as if he could read his soul. He gave a half smile and nodded to himself,

“Bracken, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, Lord Maroc.”

“Hmm.” He scratched his ear in thought, “You seem a sensible fellow, so here’s what I propose.” Maroc smiled, “Come with me, you can be guests at my home until we know what’s what. You can bring your friend too.” He nodded towards Arc, “I’m afraid that these chaps won’t give up, Bracken. I think you know what will happen to your village when we leave. This isn’t a fight you can win, my earth pony friend.”

A familiar voice behind Bracken made him groan inwardly.

“Brack, I don’t want anypony else to get hurt.” The white unicorn walked forward and and bowed to Lord Maroc, “I’ll come with you, sir.”

“Good fellow!” Maroc said happily clopping his forehooves together, “You can always rely on a unicorn to make an intelligent decision.” He looked curiously at Chalk a moment, “Damned good colouring for the snow too! I barely saw you coming except for your eyes! You just have to meet my family, they’ll be overjoyed to see another unicorn.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, “This lot don’t like us, you know…” he tapped his head, “Horn envy…”

Chalk smirked.

“Right then, lets get ready for off. Raise, I’ll leave you to tidy up that mess.” Maroc waved a hoof at the unconscious Arc, “And I trust there will not be any more trouble here, will there? I don’t take kindly to his kind causing mischief in my home.”

“Of course, My Lord.” Raise bowed.

Maroc nodded, “Excellent, now, collect your things you two and meet us back here. I’ll have a chariot sorted out for you in a jiffy.”

“Chariot?” Chalk asked following Bracken back to the cabin, “What sort of chariot?”

Bracken rolled his eyes. Goddess damn it, this wasn’t going to end well, was it? That bloody idiot! “Chalky, do you have death wish? I mean, seriously, do you? It’s just that everytime I see you, somepony’s trying to kill you or you’re lying in a pool of blood or something.” He gave him a hard stared, “I take it you do want to see Gretel again, don’t you?”

“Of course I bloody well do!” Chalk snapped, “It’s not like I want these things to keep happening you know. I mean, I didn’t exactly wake up one morning and think, ‘looks like a lovely day out today, I think I’ll go and get my beaten to death.’ After all, theres nothing quite like a good crucifixion before breakfast to brighten your day, is there?”

“You know what I mean!” Bracken replied with a snort, “Buck me, Chalky, I don’t know how we’re going to get out of this one.”

Chalk shrugged dismissively, “Oh I don’t know, that Maroc seems a spot on sort of guy.”

“Spot on?!” Bracken hissed, “Do you know what he is?”

Chalk had apparently missed a good part of the conversation as he rolled his eyes at his friend, “Duh! The horns a bit of a giveaway Brack, do you really need me to tell you?”

“One of them said he was bloody wendigo!” Bracken hissed, “You know what those things do! They’ll suck our emotions dry! We’ll be left like husks, empty and…”

“-Oh belt up!” Chalk said grabbing his sword and buckling on his equipment, “Celestia’s arse you’re nothing but gloom and doom, aren’t you? Things will work out, you’ll see!” He trotted out the door with a grin, “Hurry up, or I’ll get the best seat.”

Bracken face hoofed. What a bloody mess! He threw the panniers over his back and walked towards the door, stopping to take a last look back at the cabin that had been his home for the last few months. It still smelled of her; the bed, the clothes even her brush. He took that with him - somehow, it made him feel a little closer to her. He hung his head, his ears flopping,

“I hope you were right, love” he murmured, and closed the door behind him.

In the middle of the village, a large two wheeled cart had appeared, not quite the ‘chariot’ the two friends had been expecting.

“It, um…looks a little ‘rustic’, doesn’t it?” Chalk said disappointedly, “Do you think it’s safe?”

“No idea.” Bracken gave him a nudge as lord Maroc appeared.

“All set?” The wendigo asked cheerily.

Bracken nodded, “Yes, thanks, but we’re be alright walking. Thanks all the same.”

“Walk?” Maroc let out a loud guffaw, “You have a good sense of humour, young stallion, I like that!” he turned to two of his ponies and waved them over, “Get hitched up lads, we’ll get these two back in time for lunch.”

“L…lunch?” Chalk stammered, “Hey! Now hang on…”

The grey unicorn gave him a quizzical looked, “You’re not hungry? There’ll be plenty to go round, you know.”

“Thank you, lord Maroc,” Bracken said quickly pushing Chalk out of the way, “that’s very kind of you.”

Maroc shook his head, leaning down towards Chalk, “You didn’t think we were going to have you for dinner did you?” he snapped his teeth suddenly making Chalk jump back in fright, “Oh, I think we’re going to a have grand time together!” Maroc chuckled to himself, “Arathea will just love to see you!”

Two of the grey ponies backed up and began strapping themselves between the carts shafts. With a neigh, and a shake of their coat’s they…changed. Bracken couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and by the strangled sounds Chalk was making, he was having the same difficulties taking in just what was happening a mere few yards away. The grey unicorns were transforming, their coats flushing like a chameleon from grey to white, their tails and manes similarly morphing from black to a vibrant blue. Horrifyingly, the skin along their back rippled, bulged, and then ‘opened’ allowing reptilian like wings to burst out, snapping wide in the sunlight. Bracken thought he was going to choke. He’d seen these things before; they were the monsters that had fought them at River Valley, the things that had screamed down at them from the sky like comets, shrieking and howling like death itself had come from…

“Are you alright, Elder?” Maroc asked, “You seem to have gone a little pale.”

Bracken caught himself and turned away from staring at the two in front of the cart. He cleared his throat,

“I’m sorry, Lord Maroc, I haven’t…” his words died in his mouth.

“Ah, forgive me, I take it you haven’t had much contact with my people, yes?”

The snow white stallion standing in front of Bracken smiled, or at least it looked like he was, the huge array of sharp teeth made him look like some sort of hungry predator, and his eyes…dear Goddess…they were blue, burning like fires from another world, almost...like a thestral. Maroc raised an eyebrow,

“Come along now, jump on. Time waits for nopony, Elder.” He nodded towards the white unicorn who’s mouth was still hanging open, “I always tell my son he’ll stick like that if the wind changes.”

Bracken was struck speechless but obediently boarded the cart and let the wendigo tie them in with ropes.

“Sorry about this!” Maroc called over, “Bit short on comfort, but you’ll be fine. If you fall out, one of us will catch you I’m sure. Just make sure to shout nice and loud if you do, alright?”

Chalk gasped, “Oh…oh, Goddesses…this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t…”

“-Chalky, for pity’s sake get a grip! We’re going to be fine, okay? Just…just keep it together.”

“Keep it together?!” Chalk hissed back, “They’re monsters, Brack! Look at them! They’re going to e…”

Bracken shoved his muzzle into Chalk’s, “-Don’t you dare say it!”

The white unicorn closed his eyes and let out a muffled squeak. Despite trying to put on a brave face, Bracken knew exactly how his friend felt. Still, they were alive and that was a hell of a lot better than the alternative. Nearby, Jal stood impassively watching the proceedings. He nodded to Bracken who returned the gesture,

“Look after Neira’s cabin, Jal.”

The dour stallion nodded and stood back as the chariot, or rather ‘cart’ abruptly lurched off the ground and up into the air in deep wallowing bounds. Bracken’s stomach heaved violently as a wave of nausea surged through him making him gag. Other than hanging on for dear life, it was all he could do just to stop himself from throwing up. Beside him, Chalk was faring no better. He looked like he was going to pass out, his face as pale as when Bracken had first seen him on the bed with his broken leg, close to death. Bloody hell fire, was this going to be how the rest of their life would pan out? Goddess above, he just…ah, hell! Neira wanted him to have a life, and in some strange game that fate was playing with him, this looked like this was it. He closed his eyes and dug his hooves into the wood, praying they would land soon…very soon!

They flew on, the carts alarming movements thankfully smoothing out, but Bracken just stared at the wooden decking beneath his hooves. He hated flying…he hated flying…he HATED FLYING! Damn it all to the bowels of hell, he was a bloody earth pony, not a pegasus! He groaned and closed his eyes again, trying to block out the excited whoops from Chalky. Of course…he bloody well would like this, wouldn’t he? One minute scared to death, the next the wannabe pirate unicorn of the high seas! Bracken rolled his eyes, and prayed they would land soon - and in one piece.

“Hey Brack, this is great!” the excited unicorn shouted over the wind noise, “It’s like a miniature galleon, well…sort of I suppose, but you can’t knock it can you?” He let out a whoop of excitement, “Celestia’s furry buttocks! You want to see how high up we are! Even the mountains look like dots from up here!”

Bracken dry heaved, his prayer for either land or a pair of ear plugs painfully unheeded. One of these days, he was going to strangle that bloody white nuisance.

“Hey Brack,” Chalk chirped, “don’t you think it’s a bit weird all this? I mean, these guys are ponies, right? And then poof! They transmogri-thingy into these thestraly type thingies.”

“Oh Goddess…” Bracken felt a wave of heat flush through him, signalling another stomach roiling episode of nausea, “It’s ‘transmogrify’ you idiot, and shut up will you, for the love of Luna!”

“Some bloody travelling buddy you are!” Chalk replied with a huff, “These guys up front won’t speak either, but I suppose its not that surprising, what with the wind up here. Cor! You can really feel it nipping your lugs, can’t you! I’m glad we’ve got these cloaks. Hey, do you reckon they’ll let us keep our swords? Mine’s worth a few bits, and…”

Bracken felt the world around him spinning and whirling as his stomach emptied itself. Thankfully, he was able to reach the side of the cart without much difficulty. The bile burned in his throat, the taste of what he’d had for dinner making him want to keep going until he had nothing left inside, and then a little more just for good measure. Gasping and sweating, he looked round at his friend,

“Chalky…please, just…please…”

“Oh.” Chalk looked a little deflated, his ears drooping, “Sorry, Brack.”

Well that was just great wasn’t it? Now he felt guilty as well as ill! Bracken shook his head, which didn’t turn out to be the best idea he’d ever had, and he quickly let fly with another stream of bile.

“Chalky,” he choked, “look, just wait until we land, eh? Please. Goddess almighty, I’m dying here…”

Chalk’s hoof rubbed his shoulder,

“It’s alright dude, we’re nearly there.”

Bracken looked back at him through bloodshot eyes, “We are?”

“If you look straight ahead, not down, you’ll see. Or do you want me to describe it to you?” Chalk smiled, his bright green eyes sparkling with wonder at what he’d seen.

“I’ll give it a go…I suppose,” Bracken wobbled, but thankfully Chalk caught him.

“There,” the white unicorn breathed, “look.”

Bracken rubbed the tears from his eyes. It was so hard to focus with the wind whipping past and…

He blinked, and found himself staring in open mouthed amazement at a sight so impossible, he could barely believe his own eyes. It was hard to get a proper ideal of scale from up here, but it had to be larger than his whole village back home. It was camouflaged to a degree by the mountain and looked as if it had been crafted from an incredible blend of the rock and ice: it was a castle…no…a palace…nestled on the side of the mountain, sparkling like a jewel in the bright sunshine. It was the sort of place he’d imagined ponies in his story books would have lived in, that he would live in if he became ever became a knight. But this…this was no fairy tale castle, it was even more magnificent than any storyteller could ever hope to describe. His nausea forgotten, Bracken stared in awe at the tall, slim towers that soared up into the sky connected by impossibly thin sky bridges, the battlements and curiously shaped buildings of all sizes and shapes, all coming together to form a structure that was as beautiful as it was imposing. Long streaming blue flags fluttered and snapped in the breeze, as they approached. The rhythmic beating of wings made Bracken look to his left. It was Maroc,

“What do you think, boys?”

“It’s AMAZING!” Chalk bellowed right in Bracken’s ear, “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Bracken nodded, “It’s beautiful,” he added, “what is this place?”

“My home!” Maroc laughed, “As it has been for generations of my family and my people. It is our sanctuary from the outside world and the heart of our lands.” His blazing blue eyes flared brightly, “Welcome gentlecolts, to the Fortress of the Four Winds.”

“Oooh!” Chalk was nearly bouncing with excitement, making the cart lurch.

“For the Goddess’s sake, calm down!” Bracken hissed, shoving Chalk’s shoulder, “You’ll have the bloody thing over!”

The wendigo Lord let out a raucous laugh, “You can’t blame him, Elder Bracken. Who could not fail to be awe struck by such a magnificent sight?”

The two friends nodded.

“Now, hold on, we’re coming in to land. It could get a little bumpy.”

“What?!” Bracken squeaked.

Maroc shouted something to the two pulling them and took the lead. With a sudden jerk, the cart accelerated and began a banking turn down towards the fortress. Bracken closed his eyes and tried not to cry out it terror while Chalk shouted out in excitement beside him. What the hell was wrong with him? What the hell was wrong with these bloody wendigo things? Oh Goddess, get him off this thing!

Wind roared past them as they spiralled down, the sensation of dropping making Bracken’s stomach feel like he’d swallowed lead and he nearly fainted when he finally opened his eyes enough to see a huge rock wall looming right in front of them. He squeezed his eyes shut again and huddled down, barely noticing the slight bump of the wheels. He looked up,

“We…we’re not moving?”

Chalk gave him a nudge, “Good observations there, Clover the Clever.”

Bracken gave himself a shake, but his legs were doing anything but obey him. Meanwhile, the two wendigo had unharnessed themselves and trotted off as a number of more regular looking creatures, a surprisingly colourful mix of ponies, walked up to help manoeuvre the cart into a place out of the wind. With practiced ease, they quickly began untying the ropes and helped the two friends down to the blessedly solid ground. Bracken’s legs finally began to obey him, but his head was still feeling light. Was there really a need to land like that? He was sure that bloody Maroc had done it deliberately to show off, and Chalk seemed to have enjoyed it too, the excited unicorn was all but bouncing beside him,

“I don’t believe it!” he said in wide eyed amazement, “Look a this place, Brack, it’s like some sort of fairytale palace or something.” He pranced around, staring at the sparkling white architecture, the semi reflective surfaces that looked, and felt, like they were made of solid ice. Bracken shook his mane and stretched. After being confined to that cart, his bones and joints were aching and he was beginning to long for a long hot soak in the sulphurous pools of ho…He paused; was he going to say ‘home’?

“Right you two,” It was Maroc, but not Maroc. Bracken stared at him - he was back to being a grey unicorn once again. “follow Chisel here, he’ll show you the way to the baths. I’m sure you’ll want to have a freshen up.” He clopped his hoof on the shoulder of the old stallion who stood respectfully before them, “Hey old fellow, do something about these cloaks too will you, they honk like a goose.”

“Honk like a goose?” Bracken said louder than he meant to, “They’re…that is, they were a gift!”

Maroc gave him a sidelong glance, “Don’t worry, Elder, they’ll be properly cleaned and dried. Our staff are the best in Equestria you know.” He smiled at them both, “Make yourselves at home boys. I’ll go and tell Arathea you’re here and then we can all have a chat over dinner tonight. Chalky,” he nodded to the wide eyed unicorn, “would you mind leaving your weapons with Chisel? I promise I’ll return them when I can, but I’m sure you understand, both of you, that I’ll be introducing you to my wife and foal, and, well…”

Chalk nodded to Bracken, before unbuckling his gear, “Of course Lord Maroc, we understand.”

“Just ‘Maroc’,” the wendigo said with a smile, “please, titles are not for guests.”

Bracken lifted a hoof, “Lord…I mean, Maroc, aren’t we prisoners?”

Maroc shrugged, “I don’t like the word ‘prisoner’, Elder, and besides, if you were you’d be in the dungeon. And as we don’t have any, you’ll be staying in our guest quarters.” He chuckled, “We’re not exactly short on space you know.”

Chalk furrowed his brow, “You don’t have dungeons? In a place like this?”

“Why would I need dungeons?” Maroc asked looking genuinely surprised, “We deal with things a little differently here, but…enough!” he clopped his forehooves together, “Go and get warmed up! Go on, off you go!” He began walking away as a young mare rushed over and placed a deep blue and white robe over his back. “I’ll answer all your questions later, chaps, and if you like I’ll give you the grand tour too. What do you say, Chalky?”

The white unicorn hopped from one hoof to another, “Oh yeah!”

Maroc laughed, finally disappearing through an archway, followed by a retinue of fussing ponies.

“This way please, gentlecolts.” Chisel bowed, and set off, leading the two friends down another side passage.

The corridor was just the same as the large hall they’d arrived in: brightly lit and airy, giving you the impression that you were almost floating on air. The walls shone with an almost otherworldy inner light, but it was all so natural somehow, so pure, it made everything sparkle like diamond. Pictures on the walls showed images of rolling landscapes, battles, ponies, all of them oozing quality and the skill of the artist. Tapestries and rugs too, adorned the walls and floor providing the overall feeling of being in somepony’s home. The personal touch of care and thought showed on every surface, all of it complementing each individual element, adding up to a whole that was simply…breathtaking.

Chalk was bouncing about as if he was on springs,

“Hey, Chisel, can you do that changing thing too? Does it hurt?”

The dour grey pony kept looking straight ahead, “No, sir. Alas, I was not destined for the joining.”

“Joining?” Chalk asked.

“Yes sir.”

“Um, what is that?”

Chisel’s deapan voice gave nothing away, “Forgive me, sir, that is a matter for His Lordship to discuss with you, should he decide to do so.”

“Oh.” Chalk glanced up at Bracken and shrugged. It was quite clear their host wasn’t going to answer just any question, regardless of how inquisitive he was. He changed tack, “Don’t sky galleons come here from time to time?”

“Yes, sir.” Chisel answered in his monotone manner, “Her Ladyship is rather partial to fine needlework.”

“There aren’t any docked here at the moment are there by any chance?” Chalk asked hopefully.

“No, sir.”

“Bugger.”

“And of course, they’d just let us wander out wouldn’t they?” Bracken mumbled under his breath. Chalk shot him a look and settled back into a more restrained pace. He looked puzzled,

“Chisel, how come the wendigo here have horns and wings?”

The grey pony seemed surprised by the question, “Pardon?”

Chalk attempted to clarify his question, “I didn’t think they did, you know, like they flew on clouds and stuff.”

Chisel’s ear flicked irritably, “I believe sir is referring to the more primitive dwellers of the mountains? They are a distant relation, sir, though mostly in name only.” He shuddered, “Quite uncivilised.”

Bracken rolled his eyes. It didn’t do to needle their hosts, especially as they weren’t exactly in a position to escape should things turn sour, and considering the way a certain white unicorn’s mouth ran away with him, it was entirely possible it could happen. He gestured at his friend to shush, but Chalk had just noticed something else…lavender. Bracken took in the smell too; it was wonderful! Fragrant, warm, and alluring, the scent together with the enigmatic Chisel lead them around a corner and into the magnificent bathing area. Around them, huge bronze fish poured hot fragrant water into a steaming pool, the whole surrounded by large ferns in colourful glazed pots that gave the bather the impression they were in the middle of some mystical jungle clearing. Tiles, carefully designed for hooves to gain purchase in wet conditions, led to a changing and drying area complete with wicker basketsyou’re your clothes, while in the other direction they ended in a set of wide steps that would take the bather down into the inviting water. Chalk’s eyes went wide,

“Oh…my…Goddesses!” he gasped, “I…Brack…” he suddenly went wide eyed and began flinging his clothes, equipment, and panniers in all direction before letting out a bellowing neigh. Bracken backed up as Chalk reared, and then charged. With a scream of “INCOMING!” the white unicorn leaped high into the air and impacted with the surface of the tranquil looking pool with a deafening boom. Water fountained up into air and spread out like some grotesque mushroom, and, in almost slow motion, began to descend on the horrified Chisel. Bracken face hoofed even as the water delunged him nose to tail. That…bloody unicorn!

Speaking of whom, the white coated creature was now floating in the bath spewing water from his mouth and laughing maniacally,

“Brack! For goodness sake, get your grotty hide in here! Celestia’s furry backside, you’ve no idea how good this is!”

Bracken rolled his eyes, passing his clothes to the incensed Chisel,

“Um, sorry about this, you know how it is.”

“Indeed, sir.” The grey pony looked as if he’d just got a whiff of something foul before turning to the door, “One of the maids will be along shortly to escort you to your rooms prior to luncheon, sir.”

He walked away.

“This is what I’m talking about, Brack!” Chalk shouted, “Hot baths, luxury accommodation and dinner with the Lord and his family. I’d love to see the look on that old fart Fry’s face now. Sod the bloody lot of ‘em I say!”

Bracken sank into the water, groaning as his still sore joints eased in the scented hot water,

“I hate to admit it, but I think you’re right dude, seriously.” He let out a sigh.

Chalk paddled around the deeper part of the pool, somehow still full of energy,

“I tell you what: we wait until the next sky galleon docks, sneak aboard, and get the buck out of here. How does that sound?”

“I take it by ‘next’, you mean the Revenge, right?” Bracken asked, stretching out.

“Damn right! I mean, how many are there out there? Besides, they’re bound to know Gretel, so we bum a lift and bingo, back home and mission…” Chalk shrugged, “Not quite complete, but the thought was there.”

“Excuse me?”

Chalk raised an eyebrow “What, dude?”

Bracken looked round in surprise, “I didn’t say anything.”

“I’m sorry but, um, did you chaps say ‘sky galleons’?”

A figure wreathed in steam suddenly appeared before them like some terrifying sea monster from the depths, his grey coat almost merging perfectly with the white clouds, leaving his shining yellow eyes seemingly floating in mid air. The highly strung Chalk cried out in fright and scrabbled frantically for the steps. Bracken, however, wasn’t quite so easily startled,

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was anypony else in here.”

The grey pony, another unicorn, pushed himself out of the steam, “I’m afraid that’s my fault. I’m not supposed to use this bath you see; it’s for guests and the Lords family, but…well…it’s just so nice in here, I couldn’t resist and just sort of snuck in.”

“You snuck in?” Bracken asked incredulously.

“Mmhmm.” The unicorn nodded, “My lab’s just down the next corridor, and I simply love the smell of lavender, don’t you?”

Bracken smiled, “I do, it reminds me of home. Mum grew it in the front garden and made soap with it in.”

The grey pony clopped his hooves together happily, “Oh, wonderful! I love lavender soap!” he dipped his long silvery mane into the water and a loofah materialised in his hooves, “Fancy a scrub?”

Bracken grimaced, “Er, no thanks, I’ll manage.”

“Hah! You’re missing a treat!” The grey fellow went to work, scrubbing his back with a look of sheer bliss on his face.

“Sorry,” Bracken said trying to get some semblance of normality back in the conversation, “but…are you a…wendigo?”

“Me?” the pony smirked, “Hardly! Oh, but if I were…the possibilities! The magical power alone could propel my studies into a whole new direction of study and learning!” He fixed Bracken with an excited look, “You’ve seen them, haven’t you? The way they change? One simply cannot comprehend just how much magic is being channelled to enable such a miraculous transformation!” he began scratching his long beard, “It must be enacted on a cellular level. Perhaps if the…” he suddenly stopped and looked up, “Wait, you said ‘sky galleons’ before. Please, you simply must tell me about them!”

“Chalky’s your stallion for that,” Bracken said waving to the wary looking white unicorn standing on the steps, “for Luna’s sake, get over here will you.”

Chalk huffed and then pushed back into the water, nearer to the newcomer. Clearing his throat he looked at him curiously,

“You want to know about sky galleons?”

“Oh, please, yes!” The grey pony said enthusiastically.

“Hmm, perhaps.” Chalk quickly took on a mysterious air, “I can tell ye a tale from the high seas ter the skies above the…”

“-I’m sorry,” the grey stallion interrupted, “I’d rather just know about how they work.” He looked a little embarrassed, “You see, I have a particular interest in the workings of high energy magical fluxation and confluxation fields.” He shrugged, “It’s a hobby.”

Chalk sniffed, apparently upset at losing his opportunity to regale an unsuspecting pony with one of his ‘tales from the sea’, which, Bracken suspected, were actually ones he’d pinched from one of the sailors on the Revenge. Personally, he thought the white nuisance just wanted a chance to try out his pirate lingo.

Chalk opened his mouth to speak, just as a female voice called out from the direction of the main door,

“Sirs? Are you ready to come out? I’m to take you to your rooms now.”

“Bollocks!” the grey pony hissed, “You didn’t see me, alright? You didn’t see me!”

Quickly, the mysterious fellow vanished back into the steam, leaving Chalk and Bracken shrugging and shaking their heads as they got out to the dry themselves off. Chalk was the first to notice their equipment, cloaks and other items had mysteriously vanished - no doubt assisted by Chisel and his compatriots. Dear Goddess, they hadn’t even seen them come in! The two friends dried themselves as best they could and donned the blue and white robes that had been thoughtfully provided for them. Bracken peered at Chalk who was examining his intently,

“What is it?”

The unicorn shrugged, “Ah, nothing really, just wondering if it had my initials sewn into the pocket.”

“You need help, Chalk Dust,” Bracken groaned, “you really do.”

Chapter Forty Five - The Sleeping Empire

CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

THE SLEEPING EMPIRE

Amidst the broken and splintered beams, from the shattered remains of what had once been a place of friendship and camaraderie, a single blackened figure emerged. His hearing was reduced a high pitched whine, his eyesight blurry and unfocussed. Nothing made sense - none of it. One minute he’d been celebrating his mare’s pregnancy and the next…this. Tempest tried to shake off the pieces of wood from his coat, staggering out into what looked liked clearer ground. There was smoke everywhere: fire, ponies, thestrals, minotaurs - most of them looking like little more than dark figures on a darker background running this way and that like a kicked over anthill. So much for the war being over. He spat blood from his mouth; his teeth must have bitten through his lip, or tongue…it wasn’t important, at least not yet. First he had to see to his warriors, and his mare. Thank the Goddess she was safe in the town hospital. Blue Water was due to deliver any time now and this was going to be his final hurrah to a single life, in fact if he hadn’t stopped for one last round he would have been there already. He still couldn’t believe he was going to be a father even now. So what if she was from another people? Nobody cared, not any more; the old barriers meant nothing now, but…but the war was meant to be over, the Celestians had surrendered hadn’t they? Why would they doing this? Was it an accident? He wandered out into the cooler night air, trying to clear his lungs – By the Goddess how they burned! He must have inhaled smoke: not a problem for a thestral normally, but this wasn’t good, he’d have to find help for himself before long.

Tempest suddenly coughed violently, his head spinning from the effort of trying to catch his breath. What was…what was going on? His eyesight gradually began to clear and he saw the scale of the destruction behind him: the remains of what had been the ammunition dump for the artillery, the barracks…Dear Goddess, there were pieces of…bodies…everywhere. He tried to call out, to shout for one of the hurrying figures to answer him, but his lungs were so painful, his throat so dry, he couldn’t speak and his words grated out in a wheezy rasp. Who or what could do such a thing? The Celestian’s? How could they get through here? He had guards out, they’d set defences up, and they were out here in the middle of nowhere! With the war over, they’d massed the explosives with the intention of selling it abroad to the Llamalians, using the barges that were even now rocking in the dock ready for loading. But there would be no loading now, there was nothing left to load…nothing at all.

Tempest coughed, trying to reach the water barrels, but even they were gone, blown apart and reduced to matchwood like the barracks, like his comrades, his brothers and sisters. His emotions raging, the thestral warrior walked towards the only source of water he knew that was nearby: the stream. The promise of cool water drove his battered body onwards; he’d just take a little, just a sip, and then he’d…what was that? There was something in the grass in front of him, something dark, and it was moving…a casualty? He moved forward cautiously, and then the thing looked up at him. He stared back. It was a pony…and it was armed. Cold realisation began to flicker in Tempest’s battered mind; this stallion had done this - he was the one who had killed his friends…

The thestral couldn’t take his eyes off the pony in the grass. Why would they do such a thing when the war was over? It made no sense! After so much killing, so much death and pain, they wanted it to continue?

Explosions nearby began to go off: shouting, screaming…his hearing was coming back slowly, and by the Goddess, they were sounds he’d hoped never to have to hear again. A warrior running past called out to him,

“Sir! The town is aflame, there’s people trapped there!”

Tempest snorted, glowering down at the creature in the grass. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and turned towards the town. It was a scene from the deepest pits of hell. The thestral’s eyes went wide in horror as he watched gouts of green magical fire mix with yellows and reds, heard the snapping and crash of homes consumed in flames amidst the cries and screams of the trapped residents. The utter madness, the futility and senselessness of it made his heart cry out in horror. He broke into a gallop. To hell with water, to hell with pain - he had to help, he had to do something!

The town was an inferno. Casks of explosive magical compounds had been blown outwards from the depot and landed everywhere, from alleys, to roofs and even through windows. Many of the people here would have died instantly while the less fortunate were still trapped inside. Dear Goddess, he could hear them…

Minotaurs, thestrals, griffins, ponies, anyone who could lend a claw or hoof, was doing all they could to save as many as they could. From out of the smoke, a minotaur lumbered up to Tempest - it was Mauve, one of the medics. Without speaking, she shoved a water flask into his outstretched hooves which he accepted gratefully. It was like liquid life pouring into him, his tortured throat soaking in the magical elixir until the bottle was all but drained. He nodded his thanks,

“Mauve…” he spat, trying to get his words out, “Get the survivors out to the cherry orchards, there’s cover there. Use the barns, anything.”

Mauve nodded, “You’re hurt.”

“Forget it,” Tempest croaked, “We have to get everyone out that we can save.”

The minotaur nodded again, “I will do what I can.”

Tempest clopped her on the elbow, “Goddess bless you Mauve.” He turned back to the town and headed for the hospital. There was an evacuation plan thank the Goddess, one in place in case of fire, but how many would of them would actually remember it? This was such a sleepy place, a quiet town where nothing happened. It was where he’d met his wife, the young mare who had helped the alien creature from another world, and it was where he’d lost his heart to her as surely as day followed night in this magical place.

He ran.

He’d sought permission from his superiors of course; theirs had only been a scouting mission initially, but after a skirmish with some local troops, he’d been injured and left for dead. In reality, he should have been dead, but a young mare sneaking off from her work in the cherry orchards for a quiet break had found the wounded warrior and helped him. She’d hidden him in one of the storage barns, tending to his injuries as best she could, bringing him food and water, even wine from time to time. It was fortunate indeed there was a griffin food merchant in town, or else he could have starved to death. Thankfully, Blue Water wasn’t squeamish. And then, well…one thing had lead to another, and…

He ran.

Tempest had returned back to his command some time later. Blue Water let him go, as if she simply…understood. He could speak her language, most of them could, but to hear those strange words from her mouth, her big blue eyes looking up at him and her beautiful cream coloured coat…it made his heart leap in a way it never had before except at the very height of battle. Naturally, he’d kept his liaison with her secret from his commanding officer, but thankfully with the town being so remote, nobody was really interested in it from a strategic point of view anyway. The invasion had started some time afterwards and he’d been forced to miss most of it due to him being considered ‘unfit’ for front line service. Instead, he was relegated to garrison duties and sent back, at his request, to the remote town on the coast. That was when he found her again, sitting beneath a cherry tree wearing a striped red and white dress, reading a book. She looked…wonderful, and the way she looked at him was so different from the usual expressions of horror and fear he’d become used to, it made his heart cry out. By the Goddess, he loved her. But...love? It was a strange concept - one that was not exactly unknown in the Withers, but one that was certainly frowned upon. Here, in Belle’s Orchard, those rules didn’t seem to matter anymore; the war was far, far away, and here ponies treated the newcomers with more of a mixture of interest and curiosity. Maybe it was because they were on the coast, and visitors from foreign lands were not uncommon, or maybe it was because the war was something they’d only heard of from travellers. Whatever the reasons, Tempest had fallen in love with Blue Water from the moment he saw her, and now…months, or was it years? later, he was going to be a father

Tempest charged round the corner of one of the numerous bakeries, heading towards the fountain where he would have to turn left into the cobbled street that lead straight to…

It was an inferno.

Ponies crowded the street outside the hospital, some carrying buckets of water from the river, while others carried the injured, the sick, the young, the old in fact anypony they could find, ferrying them out to the evacuation points. Several thestrals were here too, some sporting numerous injuries and helping those unable to walk onto waiting carts and chariots, or anything else that could move. Overhead, pegasi and griffins flew down, dumping buckets of water and trying their best to keep the raging fire from spreading.

Suddenly there was a shout of warning as part of the roof gave way, sending tiles crashing down into the building’s interior and out into the street. It was hopeless; no amount of buckets was going to contain that blaze. Tempest pushed his way through the crowd, desperate to reach the maternity wing. The front door was gone, now little more than a solid wall of heat and flame, but there was still the side door, one that he could reach with little difficulty. He found a space, shook out his wings and leaped into the air. He wasn’t a good flier, and he’d never quite fully recovered what little ability he’d since he was wounded, but it was enough to get him away from the crowded streets and over to where he wanted to be. Blue Water was on the second floor. Damn it though, with so much smoke and the strange orange light from the flames it was hard to get his bearings, but at last, he saw the door. There were ponies there too, carrying buckets in and another line bringing mares and foals out into the night. Nursing staff and doctors were doing all they could, but…horrifyingly, there was already a line of…of…Tempest gave himself a shake; he’d seen dead before, he’d killed in battle before, but dear Goddess forgive him, he couldn’t look at those tiny bodies. Over the shouts and screaming, the cries of the mothers, the weeping and grief was like some horrific undertone to the whole unimaginable nightmare.

Despite his frantic searching, there was no sign of Blue Water anywhere, and yet somehow, deep inside, he knew she was still inside. Tempest beat his wings hard, propelling himself up until finally he found an open window. The opening was too small, and try as he might, even without armour, there was no way he was going to fit. Gritting his teeth, he delivered a hard buck to the window frame, smashing the wood and glass but cutting his legs in the process. He’d have time to worry about that later - right now, he need to get in and find his family.

Inside, smoke billowed as if it were a living entity, filling the rooms with its choking presence stinging his eyes. Everything was bathed in the deep orange light of the fire; the curtains and bed covers steaming and beginning to smoulder from the intense heat. Tempest ripped a piece of sheet from one of the beds and wrapped it around his head after first dunking it in a pitcher of water. Dear Goddess, even the water was hot…

Keeping low, the thestral warrior raced through the ward, finally reaching the maternity wing. The doors had been jammed open, the cots lying empty, the beds empty too, save for one…

“Blue!” Tempest rushed forward, gasping out a breath through the sheet, “Goddess, Blue! BLUE!”

The cream mare coughed, her big blue eyes looking up at him blearily,

“Hello…love…”

“Damn it!” Tempest snatched her up and tried to haul her onto his back, but she was so heavily pregnant and weak she was having trouble even standing. By the spirits, why had they left her behind?!

“Don’t worry, Blue, I’m here, we’ll get out of this.”

“We…” she let out a hacking cough, “…better…” she groaned, catching onto Tempest’s neck.

Speaking to her softly, the thestral headed for the back of the hospital where the fire seemed to be at its less intense. Everywhere he looked there was smoke, heat and knocked over equipment and clothing. Tears poured down his face from the smoke stinging them, but he hurried on, half carrying, half pulling the weak mare.

“They…they cleared everpony out, but I guess…I…I picked the wrong time to have morning sickness…eh?” she gasped.

Tempest looked around frantically for a way out, “Shh, its alright love, just hang in there, for both of you. I’ll get us out, just…just hang on.”

“Tem?” Blue Water asked quietly, “What…what do you want to call our foal?”

The next door lead to another stair case, blocked by a sudden blast of fire of such a ferocity it singed his mane. He took Blue Water out the other way, hunting for a window, a door - something, anything he could use.

“Tem?”

They reached the next landing,

“Love, please,” Tempest said hurriedly, “we can talk about that when we get out okay?”

Blue Water closed her eyes, “Y…yeah…”

A huge window in front of them stood open, the curtain blowing in the heat fuelled breeze. Tempest leaned out, spotting several ponies helping others into a cart,

“Hey! HEY!” the thestral’s shouts finally caught the attention of one of the ponies who looked up. Tempest gulped in a mouthful of air, “I’ve got a pregnant mare here, get a ladder, something!”

“Hang on!” The pony called back.

It was probably only seconds, but to Tempest it felt far, far too long. What the hell where they doing? Damn it, he couldn’t risk trying to fly her down, not like this, but if he had to, he’d…

“Hoy! Down here!”

Like a gift from the Goddess, a large sturdy ladder was set up against the windowsill and a bull headed creature appeared, its horns catching the orange light,

“Tempest?”

“Mari! Thank the Goddess! Quick, take Blue, get her to a doctor.”

Lifting Blue Water to the waiting minotaur, Tempest caught a glimpse of the hollow look in his beloved’s eyes, the sad smile on her lips. She brushed her hoof gently across his muzzle as Marigold carefully carried her down the ladder and to safety. Tempest stood watching her, and swallowed. Seeing her taken away like that, like a sack of grain…that look in her eyes…A shock of fear hit him and he had to give himself a hard shake before he too set off down the ladder and to safety. Behind him the building cracked and groaned, the supports for the upper floor quickly beginning to burn through. Mercifully his hooves touched the ground; it felt soft and cool beneath him, and he quickly gave thanks to the Goddess for their timely deliverence. Looking around, he spotted Blue Water lying on a stretcher and already being examined by a white overcoat wearing unicorn who was waving to two of the nursing staff,

“This mare’s about to deliver, we need to get her to shelter, now!”

“What?” Tempest hurried over as the stretcher was picked up. This couldn’t be right, she wasn’t due tonight!

“Are you with her?” the doctor shouted over the din.

“Yes!”

“Then for the Goddess’s sake stallion, go with her! Hurry!”

Tempest looked briefly over his shoulder; the fire was now completely out of control and the building was collapsing in on itself. Most of the civilians looked to have either evacuated or were formed into fire teams. There wasn’t much more he could do here, and Blue needed him more. With a loud neigh, he charged off into the night after the stretcher bearing his mare.

The group quickly raced up to the cherry orchard, the crowded barns full of the lost and the injured - it was all the medics could do to try and keep order. If only there’d been more of the garrison here, but what was left were fighting fires or...he closed his eyes…lying here. Some he recognised, while others were…burnt and mangled beyond recognition, their bodies ravaged and yet somehow still clinging onto life. He had to close his heart off, he had to see Blue Water and be with her, as much as these were his brothers and sisters - he had to…to leave them…

“Tem? TEM!” The cream mare thrashed on the makeshift bed, her eyes wide in horror, “TEM!”

Tempest hurried to her side, “I’m here love, I’m here, its going to be okay.”

“Oh Celestia, Tem! I’m so scared, I don’t want this! I don’t…I…”

One of the doctors pushed past Tempest, checking Blue Waters temperature and listening to her chest,

“She’s going into labour. Nurse, NURSE!”

One of the mares hurried over and the two began manoeuvring the pregnant mare into a more comfortable position for birthing. Blue Water’s eyes were wide in fear, her forelegs outstretched, reaching for him,

“Tem, I’m frightened…what’s happening?”

Tempest tried to smile reassuringly, “The doctors helping you deliver, love, he knows what he’s doing.”

“But its too early!” Blue Water coughed, her eyes becoming unfocussed, “T..Tem?”

The warrior carefully lifted her forelegs to his muzzle and kissed them, “I’m right here love.”

“Don’t… don’t let go of me? Please?”

“I won’t love,” Tempest promised, “I’ll never let you go…I promise.”

She looked up at him with such love, such trust. Blue Water suddenly gasped and screamed out in agony. The doctor and nurse began shouting and yelling, calling others over to help them; it was a cacophony of noise, but Tempest could only see his mare before him. She was in so much pain! He cradled her head in his forelegs, kissing her muzzle,

“Shhh, it’s alright love, you’re safe now.”

“No….NO! Goddess help me…Tem! I…” She screamed, the sound cutting through his soul like a knife. One of the nurses appeared beside Blue Water, trying to calm her, to help her with her breathing, but as much as she tried, the pregnant mare was tiring quickly.

“Damn it, what’s taking so long?!” Tempest hissed at the doctor, “Do something!”

The doctor looked up a moment, his eyes narrowed, “The baby’s twisted inside her, and it’s premature already.” He leaned down and glanced back up, “If you want to do something, keep her occupied. Just keep her focussed on something else, anything else!”

Blue cried out again, her voice weaker each time, her breathing becoming ragged and uneven. The nurse leaned across and wiped her brow, but the pregnant mare only had eyes for the stallion, the one with the eyes that burned like red fires. He’d never understood how she wasn’t afraid of him, like most ponies were. And even to him, the multicoloured creatures with their big eyes and magic had their own form of intimidation: their hearts. He closed his eyes and remembered, remembered the uncertainty that grown warriors, both stallions and mares, had experienced when facing creatures that had a way of making you…’feel’. It had been the nearest he had ever seen thestral warriors come to fear, and it had been potent too. The northern tribes, with their dour and monotone existence, were nothing like the colourful creatures of the heartlands and some had even begun to even question why they were at war with them in the first place. Others however looked on them with disdain, an opinion based, he suspected, not so much on their dislike for the Equestrian’s more ‘emotional’ existence, but out of their own fear; the fear of experiencing your own thoughts and feelings. These were concepts that ran contrary to the way of the thestral warrior’s code, and was seen as a weakness, a weakness that had to be overcome. ‘To feel’, Tempest had been taught, ‘was to fail, to lose the fight in your heart before a single blow had even been struck’. Blue Water had conquered him with a mere look.

This reality however, was a very different battle.

Arching her back suddenly, the mare let out a blood curdling scream and collapsed into her stallion’s forelegs. She was barely breathing. Tempest looked up at the doctor in alarm, but the green coated stallion was already there, pushing him aside,

“Get out of the way! Damn it all, stallion, let me do my job!”

Tempest’s heart began to race, “Whats going on? Whats happening?”

The nurse hurried round to his side, leading him away,

“Sir, please, let the team work, she’s in good hooves.”

“Tem?” Blue Water’s voice drifted over to him, “T…Tem? TEM!”

“Oh Goddess!” Tempest cried out, trying to reach her, but the nurse stood stoically in front of him, “Sir! Let the doctors work, your marefriend is…”

There was a suddenly silence and then…nothing. Tempest was pushed away as magic began to glow from the nurses horn and enveloped the exhausted mare on the bed, blocking him from reaching her. Frantically, he began pacing back and forth, trying to see, trying desperately to make sure she was alright. Goddess forgive him, it was his fault! He’d done this to her! Why? Why hadn’t he just…

“Sir?”

It was the doctor.

“I’m sorry. We’ve done all we can, but the smoke had…”

“What do you mean you’ve done all you can?” Tempest choked on the words, smoke rising from his jaw, “Blue?” he pushed the unresisting nurse aside and went to his mare, leaning down to her,

“Love? Its me, I’m here.”

Blue Water weakly opened her eyes and gazed up at him, a faint smile playing across her lips,

“I’m…sorry…”

“No,” Tempest shook his head, “Now you’re being silly, everything’s alright now. We’ll get you home and into bed and…”

“-Tem…” Blue smiled, her hoof reaching up to his cheek, “Somethings…broken, inside me. I don’t think…I don’t…” she gasped and fought for breath before finally calming and gripping his forehooves, “Tem! I…I love you! I…you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes, Blue! I know that, I love you too, but please…”

She shook her head, “Don’t…forget me…please…”

“I…no…NO!” Tempest felt the strength in her fading, her eyes dulling before him as he held her. He’d seen it before, a dozen times, hundreds of times, the way the light of light would simply…die…

“Doctor! Damn you stallion, do something! DO SOMETHING!” Tempest’s eyes flared like tiny suns in the night, smoke and whisps of flame trickling from between his teeth. The doctor looked back at him, his face saddened and worn. Tempest knew…Goddess forgive them all…he knew.

“Sir, I’m sorry for your loss.”

The warrior sank to his knees and cradled his mare’s head in his forelegs, kissing her still warm muzzle and nuzzling her. She couldn’t be dead, he was only talking to her a few hours ago, and then…then he’d gone off to have a drink with his friends and celebrate, leaving her alone. He left her alone! He choked back a cry of anguish, a tear of burning flame trickling down his cheek to land smouldering on the ground. The nurse appeared beside him a moment later,

“Sir, I’m so sorry. He was just so premature, there was nothing we could do.”

A tiny bundle, a minute parcel of blanket and young life, was placed beside his beloved mare. A life, that was never to be, never to see the sun or the moon in the sky, never to wonder at the stars above or feel a mothers love. Tempest gently parted the blanket and saw the small dark blue foal within, his eyes tight shut as if he was still asleep. He had wings, tiny dragon like wings like his father, and tiny tufts of hair on the top of his ears. He was as dark as midnight, and as beautiful as a moonrise. Tenderly, his father leaned down and kissed him,

“Goodnight, my little one. My son.”

Closing his eyes, Tempest took a shuddering breath and tucked the tiny foal beside his mother and took a blanket from the pile nearby, returning to tuck them in for the night. He gritted his teeth, and leaned down to kiss his wife on the lips. It was a moment for her, a moment he would remember until his dying day. Taking a breath, Tempest sat up on his haunches, lifted his head to the night sky, and cried out, howling his pain, his sorrow, his suffering, up into the uncaring heavens. He sang…his words that of his native home, his ancient lands and ancient peoples. From the time before time, from a land forgotten and lost, the abandoned were returning to the side of the Goddess, to sit beside their ancestors in the halls where warriors would boast of their deeds in battle, where bards would play and feasting would be held. But this song was different; this sang of orchards, of fields, of running through the long green grass on a summers day and sleeping beneath the Goddess’s moon, wrapped in her gentle embrace. It was his world, it was her world, the two coming together as one. Now…lost…forever.

“Sir?” It was a young thestral warrior, far too young for front line work - far too young to see this horror. The lad snapped off a shaky salute, “We’ve caught one of the saboteurs.”

Tempest, the warrior of the Goddess, stood, and turned towards the shocked medical ponies,

“Do what you will with the bodies, they are with their ancestors now.”

The doctor gave himself a shake, “But…”

Tempest gave the doctor a nod, “Thank you for your efforts doctor. May the Goddess guide and keep you safe.”

His thoughts blank, his heart empty, Tempest followed the young warrior through the streets of fire, the buildings that had once been homes, the businesses, the places of trade and halls where the townsfolk would come together to watch plays, to dance and sing. Now, it was all gone, all of it, reduced to nothing but blackened timbers and ash. His beautiful home, his beautiful mare, even his son…they were all gone.

Two guards stood by the prisoner, one of them a civilian from the town carrying a spear and staring abject hatred at the pony huddled on the ground. The guards saluted. Tempest towered over the pony and sat down in front of it. It was covered in ash and clay, like the other one had been, no doubt to hide them from the eyes of the guards. This one had been injured: not badly, but enough. Some of its injuries looked fresh.

Tempest looked into the things lime coloured eyes. He only wanted to know one thing,

“Who was in charge?”

The pony said nothing, but hung his head.

“Would like to see what you have done?” A tear rolled down Tempest’s cheek as his chest shuddered with grief, “Would you like me to show you the bodies of my mare and my son? WOULD YOU?!”

“NO!” The pony shrieked, “None of this was meant to happen! We were supposed to just blow up the dump and the barracks, not the town!”

“But you were happy enough to murder my friends, my brothers and my sisters.” He reached down and grabbed the pony, “You…you Celestian bastard…you murdered my family! YOU MURDERED THEM!”

“I didn’t! I…”

Tempest shoved him back roughly, “I will ask you again, who ordered this…outrage?”

The pony’s voice shook in terror, “H…his names…”

“YES?” Tempest’s eyes flared, liquid fire dripping from between his teeth as he growled deep in his chest.

“COVE! His name is Lieutenant Cove!” the pony yelled.

“What does he look like?”

The pony closed his eyes, “He’s white, with blue eyes and a fancy cutie mark, he...he’s got a blue mane too, I think, maybe black, I…I can’t remember!”

Tempest stood, lifting his head to the stars and breathed out slowly. It was the one he’d seen in the grass, wasn’t it? The one hiding, like the sewer rat he was. Shaking his head, Tempest reached round and took the sword from one of his warriors and gazed down at their pony captive,

“Where are you going next? What is the next target?”

The pony’s eyes stared at the blade, his eyes darting this way and that,

“I…I don’t know! They won’t tell us until we’re nearly there. Only the officers know.”

“I see.” Tempest let out a breath and looked down at the sword. It was a simple thing, crude, but effective. He reached forward and gripped the back on the ponies head,

“You know, I knew nothing about Equestrians when I first came here, but soon, I learned to respect them and earned their respect in kind.” He nodded to the townspony beside him, “Many are good people, kind, loving people.” Tempest smiled sadly, “You never met my marefriend did you? Or my son?” He leaned forward and whispered in the pony’s ear, “You can apologise to them when you meet them.”

There was a soft sound, a gasp, and a gurgling as Tempest pushed the pony off his sword blade before wiping it clean on the corpse.

“Sergeant, assemble as many able warriors as you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re going to find those killers,” Tempest stared out into the dark hills and the black forests beyond, “Death is coming for them.”

*********************

“Delicious!” Chalk leaned back and rubbed his stomach, “I have to say, my compliments to your chef, Lord Maroc, Lady Arathea.”

The elegant grey unicorn mare smiled, her bright yellow eyes sparkling, “You are most welcome, as are all of you to our home.”

“See! What did I tell you dearest? A white unicorn! I tell you, when I saw his eyes I nearly jumped out of my skin!” Maroc stood up and gestured with his hooves for dramatic effect, “He rose up…like a huge white ghost from the snow, those green eyes blazing like the fires of eternity, his teeth as long as swords and a cry that could have frozen my soul like stone!”

Arathea clopped her hooves together in delight while the small foal on her lap stared open mouthed at Chalk.

“Let’s have a look at those huge teeth then, Mister Dust,” Arathea said teasingly, “are they really so dangerous?”

Chalk chuckled, grinning expansively, “Not quite, but I bet I can worry a carrot or two.”

Laughter echoed around the room, the atmosphere surprisingly light and joyful. The guests of honour, or so they felt, were quite clearly the two friends, with their hosts at the head of the table along with several other members of the wendigo tribe.

Chalk raised his glass in the glow from his magic,

“Lady Arathea, I understand that you personally selected the furnishings for the fortress. You truly have a good eye for quality, are they Llamalian?”

Arathea smiled demurely, “The carpets and rugs are, but the tapestries are mostly from Yakistan or Equestria - quite exquisite crafts work, I think you’ll agree.”

Chalk nodded, “Indeed.”

“They make excellent cloaks too,” Maroc observed innocently, “I think its really important to, you know, get to know the artist, really ‘get inside’ them so to speak.”

“Dear!” Arathea squeaked, elbowing her husband.

“What?” Maroc chuckled, “I only said that they make good quality…”

“-I know what you said and I know what you mean! Stop it!” she tapped him on the nose, at which he looked at the two guests and shrugged helplessly, “You see what I have to put up with?”

The meal continued amidst laughter and general conversation, until finally, Maroc rose from his seat and beckoned Chalk and Bracken to follow him to the drawing room. It was magnificent, like the rest of the fortress, only somehow a lot more ‘personal’ somehow. Maroc’s wife had obviously been at work here too, with deep crimson carpeting and tapestries, together with long velvet curtains framing the large windows. Numerous book cases standing floor to ceiling lined the walls with a wheeled ladder to reach the various levels. There must have been hundreds, no, thousands of books! Bracken couldn’t take his eyes off them and his mind began to wander off on tangents, considering the things he could learn, the stories he could read of far off lands…

“Smoke?”

Maroc brought out a humidor, a selection of pipes, cigars and some other oddments which Chalk eyed up before selecting a long stemmed pipe.

“Here, smell this one, it’s Yakistani Cherry Wood, one of my favourites.” Maroc said invitingly, and lifted the pottery lid for the two friends to inhale the wonderful aroma.

“That’s….marvellous.” Chalk breathed, “May I?”

Maroc laughed, “Of course! I wouldn’t just sit here and have it all to myself, you know!” he passed them a box of long thick matches. No tinder boxes here, not this pony, or ‘wendigo’, Bracken noticed - this fellow had money as well as style. Thankfully, Chalk helped light his pipe with the help of his magic while Maroc watched them with an intrigued expression,

“You work very well together.” He observed, “Object manipulation must be a pain for earth ponies, and pegasi too I suspect. Personally, I’ve never had that problem, but I can appreciate it.” He clopped his hooves together, “Anyway, I’m sure your just brimming with questions, so please, fire away.”

Something had been bothering Bracken, something about this whole ‘wendigo’ business. If ever there was a time to ask, it was now,

“Lord Maroc, forgive me for asking, but, what exactly are wendigo? I thought you were a myth, something from the time of the three tribes. You’ll understand that our books are a little…inaccurate in certain respects.”

“Indeed.” Maroc sighed, leaning back in his deep red chair, “What are we…hmm.” He looked up at a tapestry on the wall above the fireplace and held his hoof up to it, “This follows the story of our people, but it’s a little ‘stylised’ as indeed many stories are. The truth is in there somewhere, but where? I have searched for many years myself, and our records do go back many, many generations, but as for the beginning?” he shrugged, “Who can say?” Maroc smiled, “What I can tell you, is that we are for all intents and purposes, as Equestrian as you and Mister Dust, here. We simply have a little, ‘something extra’ that makes us what we are. Sadly, the specific details of how we become a wendigo are closely guarded secrets known only to those selected from birth to become one.”

Chalk puffed out a smoke ring, “What, a sort of ‘elite’ selection process?”

“Not quite,” Maroc replied, “Its quite involved, but all of our people have the chance to become a wendigo, and if they don’t, well, they are still family. Nopony is looked down upon here for not having,” he took a breath, his voice becoming loud and overtly dramatic, “‘extraordinary cosmic powers!’”

Chalk’s eyes went wide, “Wow! That would be amazing!”

“Lord Maroc,” Bracken asked, “may I ask what you intend to do with us?”

Maroc shrugged, “I’m afraid that isn’t really my decision, Bracken.” He looked at Chalk and smiled sadly, “I think you know why.”

Snuggling into the chair and rolling the smoke around his mouth, Chalk opened an eye lazily, “Huh?”

Bracken just nodded.

“Now boys, I want to ask you a question or two.” Maroc levitated over a large decanter of brandy, “You were in my mountains, and I’d like to know why.”

Chalk looked up at Bracken and cringed. The black pony knew this was coming, and nodded to himself,

“I’m afraid it was stupidity, lord Maroc.”

“Oh?”

Bracken nodded, “Chalky and I had, ‘fallen out’, shall we say, with a certain officer. As a way of getting back at us, he sent us out north to ‘patrol’. Needless to say, we got hopelessly lost and Chalky here fell down the mountain and landed on a Jarra for his troubles. One broken leg later, we met up with the local tribe after shooting said Jarra and they took us in. The Elder sadly…died, and the rest you know.”

“As simple as that eh?” Maroc said with a grin.

Bracken nodded.

“You know what happened to that patrol, don’t you.” Maroc tamped his pipe and fixed Bracken with a searching gaze.

“Mmhmm,” the black stallion rubbed his forehead, “We killed them.”

“Aha!” Maroc jumped for his chair, “I knew it!” Laughing, he began to pace by the fire much to the two friends alarm. “Jarras killing that many trained soldiers? Rubbish! But of course, to the thestrals who come from a land where they aren’t the apex predator, it is very believable indeed.” He pointed his pipe at Bracken, “So what really happened?”

Bracken took a breath, “They crucified Chalky.”

“They did what?!” Maroc was on pins, “Chalky? How did they manage to do that to a unicorn?”

Chalk snorted, “I was still recovering from turning my leg into splinters when the rat faced scumbags burst in and started clubbing me half to death.” He took a mouthful of the brandy, “I suppose I may have had a snifter or two before hoof.”

“I bloody knew it!” Bracken snapped, turning to his friend, “You were putting that stuff away like bloody tap water! I wondered where all the bottles kept going.”

Maroc laughed out loud, “A fitting end to a nasty bunch though, eh?” He slumped back down in his chair, “I expect that’s what happened to the last elder then?”

Bracken stared into his brandy, “Yes.” He didn’t want to think about it.

“Well chaps, whatever the future brings, I pray it brings you good fortune.” Maroc raised his glass.

“Good fortune.” The two echoed. Bracken wasn’t so sure. It was disturbingly clear just why they were being held here. Nightmare Moon knew he was here, she had to, and if by some outside chance she didn’t, she would do soon enough. Poor Chalk didn’t have a bloody clue, and he wanted to keep it that way.

The door opened and a grey pony trotted in,

“Oh! Sorry, Maroc, didn’t know you had company today.” He eyed the two and nodded to them, “Hello again!”

“Starswirl, what in blue blazes are you after now?” Maroc said in exasperation.

“Telemetary Fundamentals and Elemental Vortices of Motion and Thermodynamics.” The unicorn said distractedly, “I fancy a little light reading tonight, and…”

“-Second shelf down.” Maroc sighed, cutting in. Suddenly he looked up, “Wait, have you three met before?”

Bracken jumped in, “We, er, met earlier when we went for a bath. Just said hello actually, we haven’t been introduced.”

“Mmm! Oh, where are my manners!” the grey stallion pushed up the large embroidered hat on his head and shook their hooves, “Starswirl the bearded, mage and wizard to the discerning and exemplar of mystical magics to the masses!”

“Eh?” Chalk looked completely lost.

“Bracken, sir,” Bracken said politely, “and this is Chalk Dust, but Chalky will do.”

“Yes, indeed! I always said this world needs more unicorns,” The beaming unicorn mage said expansively, addressing Chalk, “and a fine looking fellow you are too. Bet you get all the mares, eh?”

Chalk grinned from ear to ear, blushing slightly, “Well, I do have a marefriend.”

“And so you should my boy,” Starswirl said happily, “make lots more unicorns I say!”

“Starswirl?” Maroc cleared his throat, “Haven’t you got something you need to be getting on with?”

“Hmm? Oh! Yes!” Starswirl levitated a large red covered tome down from the bookshelf and trotted out, “Nice to see you again!”

The door closed with a click, leaving Chalk and Bracken staring at each other wide eyed. Maroc yawned,

“Odd fellow that…” he took a draw on his pipe, “Now, where were we? Oh, yes, you were going to tell me all about your adventures. Like that crazy old wizard, I love a good story before bed.” He smiled disarmingly and leaned forward, filling their glasses with brandy.

It was good too…

Soon, the brandy, tiredness and good company began to take their toll. Bracken and Chalk talked while Maroc listened; he was a very attentive sort of creature, and seemed to be hanging off every word. Chalk yawned expansively, while Maroc, finally, lifted up the nearly empty bottle and gave himself a stretch,

“I think that just about brings our evening to a close gentlecolts.” He smiled, “I’ll have one of the maids take you to your rooms.”

And that was that. A polite brown unicorn mare appeared at the door, curtsied, and then lead the two friends out to their rooms, leaving Maroc alone to contemplate. It was getting late, and he’d drunk far too much, but not nearly so much as young Chalk Dust! He chuckled to himself; what a pair! Bracken was a little straight laced for his liking, but surprisingly deep and thoughtful. Were all earth ponies like that? He didn’t really know that many after all. The tribe were all unicorns or wendigo, and it was very rare for an earth pony to be born these days. Poor buggers were usually fostered out if that happened, but it wasn’t compulsory. No, he wouldn’t have that. A few pegasi lived here, mostly friends or family, but again, not creatures he had any particular fondness for. But then, that Chalk Dust, what a pony he was! Maroc scratched his chin in wonder. He’d never seen colouring like that on one before: such a white coat, that golden mane and tail, and those eyes! He looked just like the ancient painting of the forebear, the one who was vaunted as ‘the first’. Of course, it could just be coincidence, in fact it most probably was, but Chalk was already causing a stir around the fortress. Maroc groaned and gave his shoulder a good stretch. He liked visitors to the fortress, and a good story made it all the sweeter - even Arathea who was trotting in through a side door enjoyed a tale or two.

“Do you believe their story?” she asked, kissing him on the muzzle.

Maroc smiled up at her, “For the most part.” He poured her a brandy, levitating it over to her, “I think young Chalky is open to a fault, and his friend was trying his best to gloss over some of the more ‘interesting’ points of their adventures.”

“What about Celestia returning?” Arathea asked, “Do you believe that?”

“Why not?” Maroc stared into his brandy, “The ‘body’ was never found and we only had some spurious story of her ‘vanishing’, and then one of the thestrals who chased after her re-appears half dead. Not quite what I’d call compelling evidence of her demise.”

Arathea nodded, “The Legion have begun massing again.”

“Ha!” Maroc snorted, “A little premature with the whole ‘we’ve won the war’ line, eh?” He rubbed his mane, “You know, I’ve got a bad feeling about this, and that bloody wizard’s bothering me too. I don’t like being used my love, and that’s exactly whats happening here. If it wasn’t for that bloody mare…”

Arathea leaned forward and placed a hoof on his mouth, “Come now, you shouldn’t talk about her like that.”

“Hmph!”

“She loves you, you know that.” The grey mare said demurely.

“Of course I do!” Maroc grumbled, “The bloody girl’s obsessed, but what madness drove her to do what she did? Now look whats happened! Two blasted personalities in one mare, and both as mad as the other!”

His wife shook her head sadly, “I don’t fear Luna, but that Nightmare Moon…” She shivered.

“There’s something going on here, and I don’t like it.” Maroc said taking a sip of his brandy, “I don’t like it at all. She’s after Bracken for some reason but I’m loathe to hoof him over. Goddess knows what she would do to him.”

Arathea stroked her husband’s mane, “You don’t owe them anything, love, but please, don’t anger her, we’ve got little Vela to think of now.”

Maroc planted a kiss on her nose, “I know love, I just don’t like it, that’s all.”

“So what now?” Arathea asked curiously.

“We wait. No doubt our friend Arc and his pals will be running to tell tales to their mistress.” Maroc raised an eyebrow and sighed, “Guess who’s coming to dinner?”

“Stop it.” Arathea smiled, pushing him back into his chair while climbing into his lap, “None of that now, Lord Maroc, yes?”

“Alright, love.”

“Mmm.” The lithe grey mare kissed him on the lips, “You taste of brandy, but I wish you wouldn’t smoke that pipe, you know I don’t like that.”

Maroc chuckled, “I know, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll only keep it for guests and special occasions. How’s that?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Arathea gave him a lustful smile and moved into him, her breath tickling his muzzle while she played with his ears. She let out a quiet moan, “I’ll think about it…My Lord.”

*******************

“If you jump on my bed again, I’ll buck you into next week you little sod!” Bracken slammed his hoof down and rounded on his friend, “Will you bloody well calm down! Please! You’re going to give me a heart attack!”

Chalk pulled up suddenly, his eyes as wide as saucers, and emanating enough alcoholic vapours to become a fire hazard, “Oh shut up, you miserable git.” He laughed, “You don’t know how to have a good time anymore do you? Its all that ‘Elder’ business, isn’t it? You want to live a nice boring life in a boring place, doing boring bloody bollocks for the rest of your life.” He pointed a hoof at Bracken, “BORING!”

“And what if I like being boring, mister perfect?” Bracken huffed, “We can’t all be the life and soul of the party just because of your coat colour and that fancy horn.”

“I knew it!” Chalk gasped, “Horn envy! Goddesses almighty, you’re jealous of my horn!”

“I am damned well not!” Bracken snapped, “I don’t need your bloody fancy pants magic, I’ve got enough of my own, thank you very much.”

“Pfff! Earth pony wisdom?!” Chalk reared and waved his hooves sarcastically in the air, “’I will destroy you with my connection to the soil!’”

“Shut up! What the hell do…” Bracken let out a loud neigh and sank to his haunches, “Look, Chalky, please…we’re in deep dung here, and I don’t want to have a row.”

“You’re the one who started it!” his friend retorted.

Bracken waved his forehooves in exasperation, “You were jumping on my bloody bed!”

“Well, who can blame me for being excited! I mean…its HIM!” Chalk began prancing around the room, tossing his mane, “We’ve done it! We’ve bloody well done it!”

“We haven’t ‘done’ anything!” Bracken hissed, “Can’t you see that? We’re stuck here and that guy,” he pointed a hoof at the stallion in the doorway, “is as much a prisoner here as we are, can’t you see that?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Starswirl said politely, “They’ve been perfectly accommodating with me so far.”

“GAH!” Bracken nearly went white with shock, while Chalk pointed in excitement,

“It’s him! Look! LOOK!”

“I can see that!” Bracken rushed up and slammed the door shut, “What are you doing here?”

Starswirl raised his eyebrows and shrugged, “I thought I’d stop by and have a chat before you chaps turned in.” he looked worried all of a sudden, “Its not too late is it? I get carried away sometimes with my work and…”

“No!” Bracken said suddenly, “Not at all, please, sit down.” He held his hoof out, and Starswirl nodded gratefully, sinking into the proffered chair.

“Well, you know, I was thinking earlier that we hadn’t finished out chat about sky galleons, and I thought I’d swing by and ask a few questions.” The grey pony’s horn glowed with magic and a notepad, pencil and quill floated out in front of him, “Don’t mind if I make notes do you?”

Bracken pulled up a chair next to him, “No, not at all. Look, Starswirl, I have to talk to you, it’s important.”

“You do? It is?” the grey unicorn scratched his chin with his quill, “Hmm, intriguing, please…” he held out his hoof.

Bracken took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. Where the hell could he start with this? He only knew that Celestia wanted him found and taken to her. That was it, nothing more, nothing less. And unfortunately, after explaining what he knew to the wizard, it had an all too predictable result.

“I couldn’t possibly leave my research, here, Master Bracken.” The grey stallion said waving a hoof, “As exciting a possibility it would be to work for the Princess.” He began tapping his notepad, “Now, as we were saying…”

“But, Starswirl, please! This is about the future of Equestria!”

“Rubbish.” the wizard replied sharply, “The Celestian army surrendered, and personally I have absolutely no interest in a spat between two grown mares, alicorns or not. They should behave themselves and act like normal adults.” He fixed Bracken with a hard stare, “Knowledge is what is important Master Bracken, not petty bickering.”

“Its not bickering, Starswirl, we’re at war!” Bracken exclaimed.

“You’re at war!” he said irritably, “Luna’s forces won and that should have been that, but no, your Princess wouldn’t let it lie would she? No, she had to inflame the fires of conflict once again! Why can’t ponies just get along eh? Answer me that!”

Bracken lifted a hoof, “Please, Starswirl, I don’t want to argue politics, I don’t know enough about it to…”

“-and that’s the problem, my young friend, nopony does.” Starswirl interrupted, “Now, are we going to talk about these sky galleons or not?”

“Of course!” Chalk jumped in suddenly, “I’d be delighted to talk to you, so please, make yourself comfortable.” He trotted over to a decanter on the bookcase, “Looks like some kindly soul left us something to help the evening pass smoothly too!”

Bracken groaned. Not more alcohol!

The night wore on. Bracken was nearly asleep by the time the seemingly impossibly curious Starswirl had finally finished pumping the two of them for information. The grey pony’s eyes had nearly popped out of his head when he heard about Strata and was nearly rushing for the door after Chalk casually dropped into the conversation that he owned a crystal sword from the Empire:

“Oh! Oh, my!” Starswirl babbled, “I…I have to see this! And you simply must introduce me to this fellow, Strata, too - what did you say he was again? A what?”

“I’m not sure really,” Chalk yawned, stretching his legs, “Gretel mentioned something about him being a ‘Shipwright’ or something, but all I know is that’s somepony who makes ships.” He shrugged, “Not that exciting I suppose, unless you’re really into ships.”

“No…no, I don’t think so, not in the context of your tale” Starswirl said scratching his beard, “Shipwrights were powerful mages, ones who used their magic to create the flying vessels of the Empire. Alas, such wonders of the ancient world are mostly lost now, but…” he pondered a moment, muttering to himself, “If this ‘Strata’ fellow is a descendant of that line, he could have some innate power, one I could use to…” he trailed off.

“Um, Starswirl?” Chalk asked.

“Hmm?”

“What’s a wind mage? Strata said I could learn to be one and, you know, I never really had much of chance to…”

“A wind mage?!” Starswirl gasped, “You?” he leaned forward and stared into Chalk’s eyes, “Yes…maybe…maybe you could…” Stroking his beard in thought, the mage appeared to reach a decision and nodded to himself with a smile on his face, “Yes! I’ll come and find you tomorrow, my boy, and, if you’re interested, I’d be delighted to help. In fact, I’ll have a word with Maroc first thing in the morning and see if you could become my assistant. The Gods know I need one!” He suddenly jumped to his hooves, “Goodness, look at the time!” Clamping his huge blue hat back on his head, Starswirl hurried to the door, “I need to get back and check on that spell, otherwise we could lose half the fortress; Arathea would never speak to me again if that happened! Nighty night!”

The door slammed shut.

“He never stops does he?” Chalk groaned, knocking back the last of his brandy, “Goddesses help me, I’m absolutely buggered.”

“Nice turn of phrase there, but really…yeah, I couldn’t agree more.” Bracken yawned and flopped onto his bed, “Any ideas?”

“Yeah,” Chalk moaned, pulling the covers over himself, “sleep.”

Morning came with a light knocking at the door. It was one of the maids with a tray of crumpets, butter, jam and a pot of tea. Little jugs of cream, milk and sugar in three different varieties, sat nestled together in a little silver carrier.

Chalk was already inhaling the wonderful smells rising up from it,

“Now this is what I’m talking about! A proper breakfast!”

Bracken dragged himself over, his eyes gritty and bloodshot. Luna’s rump, he need more sleep! How did Chalk do it?

“There’s different jams too!” Chalk said excitedly, “Apricot…strawberry…and I don’t know what this is, but it’s spot on!” he tapped the bowl of blue sweet preserve with his spoon, “Here, let me butter your crumpet.” He sniggered, waggling his eyebrows.

Bracken groaned, “Bloody hell, Chalky, I don’t know how you have so much energy in the morning, especially after all that drink you had last night.”

“Dunno,” Chalk replied passing Bracken a butter and jam smothered treat, “just naturally perfect I suppose.”

His friend laughed, “Don’t forget modest!”

“And modest…of course.” Chalk poured out Bracken’s tea and then leaned back in the chair, enjoying his own, “What do you think’s going to happen to us, Brack? We can’t stay here forever, as much as I’d like to.”

“I don’t know dude,” Bracken said quietly, “but let’s not think about it now though eh?”

There was a knock at the door, and without waiting for a reply, Starswirl bounced in, “Come on, you two, learning awaits!”

“Eh?” Chalk look up at him in surprise, his muzzle half covered in various jams and butter, “I haven’t had me breakfast yet!”

“Never mind that!” Starswirl said excitedly, “I’m on the edge of a breakthrough! My usual helper’s come down with some blasted bug and I need an extra set of hooves, so…” he waved at the two friends, “Why not have two ponies help instead!”

Chalk span round and grabbed the breakfast tray in his magic,

“Come on Brack, we’ll eat on the go.”

“WHAT?!” Bracken protested, but his friend and the eccentric wizard were already heading out the door. He shook his mane, “why me?” he groaned, and reluctantly set off after them.

Starswirl chattered incessantly all the way along the many corridors, staircases and halls of the fortress. Nopony seemed to notice them, or trouble them either, and something else Bracken noticed: a distinct lack of guards. Not that this really bothered him of course, it was just…odd.

“Here we are!” he announced standing before a large set of double steel clad doors, “Feast your eyes upon a world of true magical wonder!”

With a flamboyant gesture, the grey unicorn flung the doors open. Or at least, he tried to…

“Bugger it…” Starswirl began furiously patting the pockets of his cloak, “Where’s my bloody key gone? I told Iris not to lock the blasted thing and…” He reached down under a small plantpot and suddenly reared victoriously, “HAH! Got it!”

Once again, but with slightly less drama this time, Starswirl pushed open the doors, revealing the riot of colour that lay beyond. Chalk stood frozen to the spot, all but vibrating with excitement as he took it all in. It was everything he’d ever dreamed a wizard’s laboratory would be: a room brim full of stuffed animals, skulls, bottles full of colourful bubbling fluids, tubes, pipes, books, the list went on and on! Such a wondrous, wondrous place! He bounced up to Starswirl his eyes wide with enthusiasm,

“What are we going to do then? When do we start?”

The mage chuckled, clearly pleased at his new assistant’s enthusiasm, “Well, my dear fellow, I want to show you something…something that may be of particular interest to you, perhaps even your earth pony friend?”

Bracken looked up from peering at one of the bubbling concoctions and followed Starswirl down a narrow flight of steps at the back of the laboratory and into a rather large chamber. Sat in the middle of it, up a short flight of steps, sat a large crystalline archway that seemed distinctly out of place there. It wasn’t just its colours either - the pinks and blues disturbingly reminiscent of their time on the island - it was the way the thing felt: it seemed, ‘alien’ somehow, like it shouldn’t be there. Oblivious to Bracken’s concerns, Starswirl bobbed about in excitement, rushing here and there manoeuvering large pieces of equipment. Whatever the spindly contraptions of brass, glass and gemstones were, or did, neither Chalk nor Bracken had any idea.

Abruptly, the grey unicorn reared, throwing his forelegs wide, his horn glowing with a bright blue light, “Behold! History stands before you in all its glory and mystery!” Starswirl dropped back to all fours, his eyes sparkling, “Isn’t it magnificent? Isn’t it just the most amazing thing you have ever seen?” He was clearly enthralled by the construction, and rushed about adjusting and altering his instruments, “Mister Chalk, I understand entirely how you’re feeling right now, I was speechless too when I first lay my eyes upon it. Just imagine how long this has sat here, waiting to be rediscovered!”

“I think there’s one of these in the castle.”

“It’s unique in all the…” Starswirl paused, Chalk’s words eventually catching up with his train of thought. He adjusted his hat and walked up to him, “What did you say?”

Chalk shrugged, “There’s one in the castle of the two sisters, it’s been the subject of more gossip than…”

“-There’s another one of these?!” Starswirl all but shouted, his tail swishing from side to side in agitation, “I…I can’t believe it! Are you sure? Are you absolutely sure?”

Chalk scratched his mane, a little embarrassed at relaying tales he’d overheard, “Um…well, apparently the Princess was going down there every night and doing something in the room where there was this huge arch thing and getting really upset. Nopony knew what was going on or what it was, only that she was getting seriously miffed.”

“Miffed?” Starswirl asked with a look of befuddlement.

Bracken clarified, “Distressed”

The grey coated mage looked like he was going to pass out, or explode, or something dramatic anyway - he simply couldn’t stand still,

“Two portals!” he shook his head in amazement, “Just imagine! I wonder…yes…YES! If I adjust these parallel inversion matrices…” he trailed off.

Bracken lifted a hoof, “Starswirl?”

“Shush!” the grey pony waved him off, “Now, taking into account the flow rate of the mana from the ether induction filter I can…”

“Starswirl?”

“WHAT?!” The mage span round angrily, “Look, can’t you...” he stopped in his tracks and stared up at the portal.

It was glowing.

“Oh…my…Gods…” he looked at Chalk, “What…what did you do?”

Chalk stood back suddenly, “Me? I didn’t break it! I didn’t do anything!”

Bracken blinked, “It…well, one of the crystals was misaligned, so I…I adjusted it.”

“YOU WHAT?!” Starswirls eyes bulged, “You’re an earth pony! How could you possibly know it was misaligned?!”

Bracken’s hackles went up. He was an earth pony, true, and he was getting royally sick of these bloody unicorns and their damned attitudes! Horns be damned, he wasn’t going to stand here and take this! He cleared his throat,

“This is more than magic, Starswirl, can’t you see the flow of the energy through the…” he paused. What the hell was it? He thought for a moment, “doorway?” He smiled to himself, “The arch is tapping directly into the natural flow of…”

Starswirl suddenly grabbed him, “-You can see it?” he asked, “You can see the energy flows? The ley energy?”

“Ley energy?” Bracken pushed him away gently, “I don’t know if that’s what I’d call it, but Neira showed me how the flow of natural magic connects all living things, as well as the earth and rock.” He stared at the glowing lines, the way they congregated around the arch, pulsing and flowing as if alive, disappearing through to…who knew where…or what. He cleared his throat, “This…doorway…looks like its sucking those lines in, like a hole in a bucket. The crystals were pulling some of the lines away from the door and tangling them, so I just…moved it.”

Starsirl blinked, “You ‘just moved it’?” He shook his head slowly, turning to Chalk who merely shrugged,

“Don’t look at me! He’s been coming out with this sort of mumbo jumbo ever since we went to the mountains.”

The mage returned his searching gaze to Bracken,

“Fascinating. You haven’t always been able to see them then?”

“Well, no,” Bracken replied honestly, “not until we went to the village, so it’s only recently.”

Starswirl stroked his straggly beard, pondering the pony before him. Was this just a coincidence? Maybe, but earth ponies had been born in the past that had the ability to interact with the world on a level that was ‘different’ to more conventional magics. Nowadays, the ability was all but forgotten except by a few and even then on more of a scholarly level. To actually find a pony, one who could see the ley lines themselves, was…unbelievable! And what was even more incredible, was one was standing in front of him here, now! He had to know more!

“Bracken, listen carefully…” Starswirl began as he went around the room collecting more equipment from shelves, “has anypony else in your family been able to see things? Things that couldn’t be explained?”

“Well…” Bracken scratched his chin, “There was grandfather Velutae who kept chasing invisible elves in colourful balloons, then there was nana Orange who had a collection of singing potatoes that only she could hear. Other than that…”

“Um…excuse me?” Chalk interrupted, “You know this thing’s doing something, right?”

“What?” Starswirl looked over his shoulder irritably, “I…Oh my!”

The pulsing of the archway had suddenly increased in speed, an accompanying bright pink light emanating from the structure quickly filling the room until, with a sound like rushing water…it stopped. The room went dark; all light was instantly extinguished as though being sucked into the darkness of the arch when suddenly there was an enormous flash of light that made the ponies shield their eyes. So bright it left an afterimage, the intense burst of silver light gradually dimmed, leaving a sight that had all of them staring in a mixture of fascination and horror. Before them, up a mere few steps, the archway now contained a pool of what looked like liquid silver, its surface shimmering with an ethereal inner light. Starswirl’s eyes were as wide as saucers,

“My…Gods…” he lifted a hoof, “Tell me”, he whispered. “tell me you both see this?”

The friends nodded.

“What…what is it?” Chalk murmured, staring up at the archway.

“The texts call it a portal.” The mage breathed, “Young Bracken wasn’t wrong when he called it a door, it is…a doorway to another place.”

“What, it goes somewhere else?” Chalk peered round the other side of the archway, “But there’s nothing there.”

Starswirl shook his head, “No! It…it transports you to another location.”

Bracken licked his lips nervously, “You don’t think its connected to the one in the castle do you?” the horrible possibility of an army of wendigo suddenly appearing in the heart of the castle was too terrifying to contemplate.

“I…well, I don’t know really.” Starswirl said quietly, “I suspect it joins with another, but there were a lot more of these once.”

“There were more?” Bracken asked, “I haven’t heard of these things before.”

“I’m not surprised,” Starswirl muttered, collecting some more equipment, “most became inactive a long time ago, or were destroyed. A lot of what I know is based more on myth and superstition than actual fact. Some say the Gods destroyed them, others that ponies lost the ability to use them and so on and so on…” he trotted up the steps and tentatively prodded the silver surface with one of the instruments while staring into a glass dish of some kind. “Interesting.” He said more to himself than the others, “It appears stable, although whether it remains that way and for how long, I don’t know.” He sudden turned to the two friends, “Fancy a trip?”

“NO!” Bracken squeaked, backing up, “I don’t like magic and I don’t like this! Ponies aren’t meant to just ‘disappear’ through magical doors to the Goddess knows where!”

Starswirl clucked his tongue, “How about you Chalky?” he smiled down at the white unicorn, “Ready to make history?”

“Is this, you know…dangerous?” Chalk asked staring up at the portal, “Shouldn’t we, you know, test it first?”

“Hmph! Amateurs!” Starswirl muttered, “Well…I suppose you’re right.” He trotted back down the steps and collected a long bronze collapsible rod. Holding it in his magic, he returned to the portal and slowly began feeding it through the silver surface which rippled slightly beneath the contact. All three held their breath, until Starswirl pulled the rod back out and examined the glass dish once again,

“It appears to be safe,” he announced, “the air’s breathable, temperature’s a little cooler than here, but apart from that there’s only one way to know for sure.” He rammed his hat down on his head, “Coming boys?” Starswirl let out a deafening neigh, “TALLY HO!” and with that, the grey unicorn leapt into the liquid silver and vanished in a bright flash of magic.

Chalk stared at Bracken, shrugged and then plunged in after him.

“Bugger that!” Bracken said to himself, “I’m staying put!” He slumped onto his haunches and crossed his forelegs, “Nope…not happening.” The silver light rippled and then became perfectly still once more, bathing the room in it eerie light - the silence was deafening. Hopefully they were alright, they’d be back shortly after all. Bracken swallowed…wouldn’t they? Chalk had a habit of getting himself into trouble and that grey unicorn, as intelligent as he clearly was, definitely had more than a few screws loose in the old noggin for his liking. He shook his head and huffed; nope…he was staying here…definitely!

***************************

It bitterly cold, reminiscent of the air on the mountain. Pink and blue light suffused the empty cavern, hilighting the dust motes as they drifted along, kicked up by their hooves; probably the first hooves that had passed through this place in a very, very long time. And yet, time, in some unexplainable way, felt as if it meant nothing here, nothing at all…

Chalk said nothing, barely able to even breath so awed as he was by the spectacle before him. It was like nothing he had ever seen, except…his heart leapt into his chest at the memory: the architecture, those colours…the crytals…he looked round at Starswirl whose eyes were as wide as could be, staring around him in awestruck amazement. Chalk felt the icy grip of fear gripping his heart; he wanted to get out of here! He could almost hear the sound of those chittering, hissing little creatures as they swarmed out of the walls, their tiny eyes, soulless and dead, their needle like translucent teeth biting…rending…

“Chalky…” Starswirl hissed, “Keep quiet and follow me. Keep close.”

In the empty cavern, the older grey unicorns voice sounded deafeningly loud, echoing off the walls and the floor. The silver light of the portal shimmered behind them, strangely beckoning. Chalk didn’t like this, not at all, there was something wrong about this place - It felt…dead. Even Starswirl seemed on edge, his hoofsteps careful and quiet. He lead them out towards what looked like an entrance of some kind, or at least that was the impression, with all the crystal it was hard to tell. A few yards in, it was quite apparent that this was pony made - most likely, by magic. The walls were incredibly smooth, polished to a near mirror finish and carried the same odd pink and blue light as the cavern they’d just left. Soon, more evidence that intelligent life had been here began to emerge. At first it was lanterns, long since dead, hanging from long golden chains from the ceilings and walls, then statues of…ponies…and armour, polearms, swords, banners…Chalk stopped and stared. He’d seen that emblem before, the starburst in pink and red against a pale blue background…but where? He stared at it hard, lost in thought.

“Chalky!” Starswirl whispered, “Come on!”

“Starswirl…I…I don’t think we should be here…” Chalk turned, watching the grey pony beckoning him on and reluctantly followed him. He couldn’t get the feeling of wrongness out of his mind, the sensation that they were trespassing in a place that no pony was meant to set hoof. It was like a graveyard, or mausoleum, and his back was twitching besides itself in agitation. Goddesses, why did he agree to follow him?!

They reached the end of the corridor.

The large double doors stood open, the strangely bland light beyond as uniform as it had been since they’d arived. There was no wind, no breeze, only a stale musty emptiness and the complete absence of sound, and life. They stared into the open space before them, it was…immense - a large hall, almost like a reception area, with numerous doors, landings, stairs, even desks with lamps and paperwork all laid out ready for use. And everywhere, statues, lots and lots of…

“Oh…no…” Chalk stared at one of them. It wasn’t a statue…

Starswirl placed a hoof on his shoulder, making him jump,

“Don’t touch anything, whatever you do...”

It was too late. Startled, Chalk knocked into the statue, the ink well it was holding dropping to the floor and making a sound that was out of all proportion to its size. Like the tolling of a church bell, the sound reverberated through the interior, echoing along the long dead halls and corridors - an alarm, summoning its master.

“Oh, buck me…” Starswirl backed up towards the doorway, “Chalky…get ready to run.”

Chalk’s heart was beating like a drum, his breathing sending clouds of warm breath into the room. The two stood silently, waiting.

Nothing.

Starswirl took a breath and let out a deep sigh of relief, “Thank the Gods, I thought we’d…” He stared at Chalk who in turn was staring past him towards the far end of the hall. Slowly, he turned to follow his gaze…

A cloud of darkness seemed to be seeping into the hall, sucking the light and warmth from the walls, ceiling and floor as it oozed forward. The temperature plummeted even further, making the two ponies begin to shake uncontrollably. Whatever it was, it was beginning to fill the hall, a shapeless, empty, dark mass of nothingness…but…not quite nothing…

A throaty, gentle laugh rolled out around them, every word as cold as the depths of winter, carrying all the cheer of the grave,

“My, my…visitors? Do my eyes deceive me?”

Starswirl suddenly produced a staff from under his cloak, rearing up onto his hind legs and holding the thing in his forehooves,

“My Lord, we are travellers,” the grey stallion announced confidently, “forgive us, we did not mean to intrude into your home.”

“Travellers?” the blackness slowed its advance, pooling into the nooks and crannies, filling up the hollows and hidden places, “Tell me, ‘travellers’, from where did you travel from?”

Chalk felt as if his very heart was freezing and he quickly glanced behind his back to make sure they could get the hell out of there if they had to. By the looks of it, they would, and damned soon too.

Starswirl held out his hoof, waving Chalk behind him, “We seek only knowledge, My Lord and bring greetings from our homeland.”

“Your…homeland…” the voice oozed menacingly, “Yes…I can smell it on you…I can smell…’her’…”

Starswirl hissed under his breath, “Chalky, when I say…run for the portal. Whatever you do, don’t look back.”

The white unicorn’s eyes stared into the darkness, the thick emptiness that drew his gaze as inexorably as staring into the void of death itself. There, in the centre of the mass, a pair of what he could only describe as…eyes…red and green, lizard like orbs stared back at them with a mixture of curiosity and…evil…

“Equestrians…” the voice hissed, “You found a way, a way through the barrier…the barrier that has held me prisoner for countless aeons…” the voice lowered menacingly, “Where a door swings one way…it can swing the other…” The darkness began to close in, faster, “I…will…be…FREE!”

White light burst from Starswirls staff, so blinding brilliant in its intensity Chalk shrieked in fright.

“NOW! CHALKY, RUN!”

Dear Goddesses, why couldn’t he run faster? Chalk’s hooves pounded along the corridor, following the smooth walls, past the dead lanterns and the statues that weren’t statues, running as hard as he could for the portal. Behind him the scream of outrage and fury added a burst of speed to him that he didn’t think he’d ever manage again, and by the Goddesses, he could only pray that he’d make it out and that Starswirl was right behind him.

There was another burst of light and a bellow of anger, but he didn’t stop, he couldn’t stop - he had to keep going, he had to get away! Chalk ran for all he was worth, pouring every single ounce of strength he had in his legs until he finally reached the cavern and leapt for the silver pool of light and safety beyond…

********************

Bracken was furious with himself. He should have gone with them, shouldn’t he? But…everything about this thing, everything he could see in the lines of energy just shouted ‘danger’ to him in every conceivable way. Those two, those bloody impetuous unicorns had just barrelled through it and rushed off into the unknown and only the Goddess knew where. What sort of fool did that? But…what sort of pony let his best friend face the unknown…alone? Of course, Starswirl was with him, the ‘superior’ life form, so much better and more worthy than a mere earth pony like himself. He was only fit for pulling a plough after all, wasn’t he? A manual labourer to clean the shoes of the elite…bloody unicorns! It was almost as if the wars of the three tribes had never happened. Hah! Perhaps they never really had! History was written by those who won wasn’t it? And who was to say Celestia hadn’t made the whole thing up to…

Bracken was knocked flying across the room as a heavy white creature moving at breakneck speed, burst from the portal and careened into him. It was Chalk.

“What the?”

The terrified unicorn pulled himself off Bracken and staggered to his hooves, brushing his mane out his eyes, his pupils dilated with sheer terror,

“Bracken! We have to get out of here! We have to run!”

“What?” Bracken gasped, picking himself up, “What’s going on? Where’s Starswirl?”

Chalk grabbed Bracken, “I don’t know! I DON’T KNOW!” he was breathing fit to burst and virtually foaming at the mouth while steam poured from his flanks, “It’s coming here! It’s after me!”

“Chalky, I…”

The room burst with colour as a grey unicorn leaped through the portal, great rends in his hide where blood, thick and warm was pouring down his sides. Starswirl staggered, turning to face the portal. His beard was nearly burned away, his tail little more than a blackened stump. He turned to Bracken,

“Disable the portal!” He coughed a mouthful of blood, “Do it, DO IT NOW!”

A horrendous screaming sound began to fill the room as…something began to bulge through the portal’s surface.

“For the Gods’ sake, Bracken!” Starswirl bellowed.

Bracken stared at the black mass coming through, the lines of pulsing silver energy, the flow of Equestrias life moving through the portal into the world beyond. There were several lumps here and there, or ‘nodes’ as Neira had called them, a sort of junction where the strands met then branched off. He concentrated, beginning the task of altering the flows by twisting them, allowing the magic to re-direct itself…

“Hell fire!” Chalk yelled, it’s coming through!

Bracken barely heard it, he didn’t even register the movements of the those around him, nor did he really take note of the magic blasts of energy, the bursts of light and the unearthly screams and howls that cut through the maelstrom of magical discharge. Through it all, he could only see the threads, the tapestry of silver. A pull here, a twist there, he moved his hooves with the graceful flowing motions that Neira had shown him, speaking the words of the ancients as she had him recite. When he spoke, he saw her face, he smelt her fragrance, the taste of the berries, the taste of mare…

A final tug on the last thread.

Sound crashed in around him like an ocean breaker, thundering into his senses with all its power, intensity and urgency. Ponies were shouting, running, smoke and flashes of light and then…silence. He tried to open his eyes, but all he could see was darkness, pulling him down into its depths. Bracken smiled, he couldn’t wait to see her…

Chapter Forty Six - Back to Basics

CHAPTER FORTY SIX

BACK TO BASICS

It wasn’t quite what he’d expected: there were no fluffy white clouds, no sparkly ponies and certainly no land of golden wheat and blue skies. It was…stars…lots and lot of stars, and the sensation of being incredibly small. Bracken stared up at the sky; it was beautiful as always, utterly flawless in fact, and even the shooting stars had a magnificence that acted as a strange counterbalance to the twinkling of the motionless stars. He smiled. Mum had always loved stargazing; when he was a foal, she would sit with him, pointing out the various constellations in all of their cold eternal beauty. On some nights, it was like looking into a ‘band’ of stars, an impossibly wide ribbon of silver, a river of light upon which he was a sailor on his boat travelling through eternity. He sighed,

“Beautiful…”

“I’m glad you think so, Bracken.” The voice beside him said quietly, “You appreciate the work a pony has to put in to craft something that can stir the heart. It is one of the things that I like about you.”

Bracken closed his eyes, feeling the familiar scent wash over him, the caress of her hoof down his neck. He dared to look up at the midnight coated mare lying beside him, watching him with her fathomless azure eyes.

“Surprised to see me?” she asked demurely.

He shook his head, “No…Divine Majesty.”

Nightmare Moon chuckled, “Ah, Bracken, your thoughts are as open to me as the pages of a book.” She brushed his blue mane with her hoof and sighed, “It’s not surprising really, that I slip your mind and your heart when I am not near. It is…difficult.”

Bracken frowned, “I don’t understand.”

“Magic, Bracken,” she lifted a hoof, pointing to the sky above them, “it is alive - a force that is both a powerful energy and a living presence that…” she paused, “but you know this, you have seen it…haven’t you?”

“I…” Bracken pondered for a moment, “Yes, Divine Majesty, I have.”

“Yes.” The Goddess rolled onto her side and pressed her muzzle into his neck, “I can always tell when you have been unfaithful, my stallion.” Bracken felt his blood run cold. “You are mine, Bracken, and mine alone. I have forgiven your misdeeds, even ignoring your assistance of my enemies, but all things come to an end eventually…all things…”

The black stallion said nothing. He didn’t know what to say. Neira, Pickles, they were both gone now, both of them. He closed his eyes and hung his head. Everything was so confusing when he was with the Goddess, and yet strangely transparent, as though the ‘other’ world, the world without her, was nothing more than a dream. Here, with this magnificent creature, was the only true reality. He hated himself for this,

“Divine Majesty, may I ask a question?”

She nodded, “Very well.”

“Pickles…”

“Ah yes, the first mare you lay with, was she not?” Nightmare Moon raised an eyebrow, “What do wish to ask me?”

“Did you…” Bracken could feel his chest tightening, “Did you order her to be…executed?”

The Goddess fixed him with an unreadable look and then gazed up at the stars,

“Would you believe me if I said no?”

Bracken nodded slowly, “I would.”

“Then you are naïve.” She pushed herself to her hooves and ruffled her wings, “What I say and what I do are mine to understand and mine alone. Nopony else can know my mind, not even you my stallion.” The Goddess looked up at the sky and sighed, “Not even you.”

Bracken stood up, “Majesty, I have not seen you in my dreams for a long time. I wondered…”

“-If I had lost interest in you?” Nightmare Moon finished for him, “Perhaps I had, or perhaps I simply had more pressing matters to deal with.” She snorted and tossed her mane, “Your ‘friends’ have been causing me no end of consternation, Bracken, and they must be dealt with once and for all.” She trotted over to him, her wings stretched out either side of her, making her appeare double her size, “You and I will be together soon enough.” She smiled at him, “Does this…please you?”

He nodded, “Yes, Majesty.”

Nightmare Moon barked out a laugh, “Your encounter with Arc in the mountains was quite fortuitous it seems. Not only did he inform me of your location, but that you are safe with our allies at the fortress of the four winds tribe. Fate appears to favour you quite admirably, my stallion.”

Bracken nodded slowly, “It has a strange way of showing it.”

“So cynical!” the Goddess admonished, “But no matter, I have a few matters to attend to and then, I shall be with you. This time…” she leaned down and nuzzled him, “Very much in the flesh.”

Nightmare Moon wrapped her wings around Bracken’s body. The sensation was beyond sensual, taking him into a world of otherwordly softness and bliss that he could so easily drift away on. The mare smiled down at him,

“No more wandering, my stallion.” She kissed him softly on the nose, “You are mine now, all mine…”

*********************************

Chalk groaned. Why was the light so blasted bright in here? Lifting his head from the pillow he covered his eyes with his foreleg. Dear Goddesses, was he still alive? Everything ached! How the hell could his body manage that? Something was pressed against his forehead. Whatever it was felt moist, and cooling, and…wonderful. He closed his eyes and let the tension in his body relax.

“How’s my patient this morning?”

The voice was very pleasant and feminine, reminding him not so much of Gretel, but of his mother. It was gentle, loving, and made him feel like snuggling down into the covers of his bed. He smiled,

“Sore, but I’ll live. I think.”

The voice chuckled, “My, but you were so brave, Chalky. The fortress is positively buzzing with the stories about you.”

Chalk opened his eyes and peered up into Arathea’s, “About me? What stories?”

She grinned, “You don’t remember?”

He shook his head, wincing, “No! that is…” he couldn’t seem to recall much, only the corridor, the black shape, running, those eyes…dear Goddesses, those eyes! He sat up suddenly, feeling the world lurch around him, making his stomach churn horribly,

“Arathea! That…that thing!”

“Shhh,” she placed the cloth back on his forehead, “don’t worry, its gone now. We sent it back to where it came from.”

“We?” he asked curiously.

Arathea nodded, “Oh, we all helped a little I think. Your friend managed to shut the portal just in the nick of time, otherwise, well…” she shrugged, “Who can say? It doesn’t do to speculate on what may have been, only what is.”

The door opened into the room. It was Maroc.

“How is he?”

Arathea looked up, smiling, “He’s well. The injuries are healing as they should and his magic has been restored. He needs to be careful for a while though, he’s been through a lot.”

“Hmm” Maroc gazed down at Chalk on the bed, “I’ll say.” He raised an eyebrow, “I’m going to have words with that bloody wizard when he’s up and about. I can’t believe how irresponsible he was, and I suppose how stupid I was by not destroying that damned thing years ago.” Maroc glowered, “I don’t mind him experimenting, but if that…that ‘thing’ had got in here, only the Goddess knows what damage it could have wrought, and to endanger our son like that…”

Arathea shook her head, placing a hoof on Maroc’s mouth, “Now, remember what we said?” she tapped him on the nose playfully, “We won’t stifle creativity in a pony, you said it yourself, dear.”

“I know I did!” Maroc snorted, “It’s just…” he stomped a hoof and tossed his mane, “I know love, you’re right.” He looked down at Chalk, “Ignore me Chalky, I get a little upset when it comes to protecting my people. What you did was unbelievably brave, and I can only thank you for what you did.”

“What I did?” Chalk rubbed his head with a hoof, “I don’t remember any of it too well. Oooh! I feel like a dragon’s taken a dump in my brain…”

Arathea giggled.

“Not something I’d like to experience,” Maroc said yawning, “anyway, I’m off to bed. Battling legendary monsters really takes it out of me.” He leaned forward and kissed Arathea, “See you later love, or tomorrow…Goddess almighty, my head!”

Chalk watched the bedraggled stallion wander out, staggering slightly, but safe. He lay back on the large pillow, staring up at the ceiling, “I don’t get it. What happened?”

The grey mare began stroking his mane, smiling down at him, “You opened a portal, a doorway to what should have remained sealed for all eternity. Quite an accomplishment, but not something I would have thought anypony would have knowingly done.”

“But what was that…that thing?” Chalk asked, “It just came at us! There was magic, shouting and…and…oh,no…Starswirl! He was hurt!”

Arathea put her hoof on his chest and pushed him back down onto the bed, “He’s fine, just resting, like you should be.”

“And Bracken?”

The mare chuckled, “He’s sleeping. He’s the one who saved you all too, and an earth pony no less.”

“I wish I knew what happened,” Chalk groaned, “or maybe I don’t. Bracken’s always telling me that ignorance is bliss.” He paused, “You know, now I think about it, I’m pretty sure he meant something by that…”

Arathea laughed, “Don’t worry yourself, young Chalky. Sleep now…sleep.”

Chalk yawned. What time was it anyway? He couldn’t tell, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. The way she stroked his mane felt nice…very nice. He smiled, thinking back to the first time he’d felt his heart feel so at ease, of a ship in full sail, its Captain at the helm with the wind tugging at her yellow mane while she gazed into his eyes…

***********************

“Bracken…”

“Mmm…Majesty…”

“Bracken? You will need to wake soon, you cannot stay here forever.”

“I want to…”

“I know…” The midnight mare sighed, shaking her smoke like mane, “All things in time, my black stallion.” She ran a hoof along his chest, “All things.”

With a huff, Nightmare Moon rose to her hooves and stretched, “You have a way of distracting me from my purpose, Bracken. I find this…intriguing…”

Bracken scratched his head, “Distracting?”

The Goddess laughed, “Indeed! I was furious with you for endangering yourself, although I can see from your memories that you actually did the opposite and rescued your friends from a fate that would have been…interesting.”

Bracken sat up and gave his mane a shake while a black wing wrapped around him, “Majesty, what was that thing? It came out of the portal after the others and…”

“Hush!” Nightmare Moon brought her stallion’s head to her chest and held him, “Do not think anymore on such matters. The world is right now, as right as it can be.” She chuckled softly, “For now.”

“Mmm.” Bracken moaned, snuggling into her. Whenever he was near her, with her, her scent, her presence, he felt…safe. Part of him wondered if she were a figment of his imagination, a leftover of the trauma from when Celestia pulled the spell from his head. Maybe she was, and if she were, did it matter? This felt so real; this closeness, this warmth. The moon, the stars, and the deep azure eyes that gazed into his were so beautiful, he didn’t care if he were losing his mind or not. All he wanted was to be with her.

Nightmare Moon kissed him on the forehead, “Bracken, awake now, I shall be with you soon.”

He didn’t want her to leave. He didn’t want to have to leave this place, the peace of the night and the warmth of her embrace. She tapped him on the nose,

“Come now!” she laughed, “Have patience, my stallion - back to the world of light and your friends.”

Brilliant light suddenly burst around him.

“Gah!” Bracken gasped as a pair of huge green eyes stared down into his from only a few inches away, “What the…?”

“Having a nice dream were we?” Chalk sniggered, “’Majesty’? Pfff!”

Bracken shoved him away and swung off the bed, “Give over, will you! Bloody hell, Chalky, you’re going to be the death of me one day.”

“Well, if you’re going to go, you’re better going with a smile on your face.” Chalk reasoned, prancing away. He returned moments later with a tea service floating in his magic, “Cuppa?”

Bracken let out a sigh and nodded, “Thanks Chalky.” He took the cup from his friend while he poured, “Luna’s arse, what a mess…”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Chalk said quietly, pouring the milk, “I ate all the muffins and got crumbs everywhere.”

“Eh? Not the bloody muffins, you berk! I meant…” Bracken waved a hoof, “this! Everything! What in Equestria happened?” he looked up at the unicorn and rubbed his eyes, “And what the hell happened to your head?!”

Chalk reached up and gingerly touched the bandage, “Oh yeah.”

“’Oh yeah’?” Bracken shook his head, “It was that bloody grey unicorn wasn’t it? It was all his fault! Goddess almighty, Chalky, that guys a maniac!”

Chalk shrugged, “Starswirl? I wouldn’t have said so, he’s just inquisitive.”

“Inquisitive?” Bracken sipped his tea and groaned. He didn’t want to berate his friend, and he’d obviously been hurt too, but this near suicidal streak that lay within him was beginning to look like an unavoidable unicorn trait - an eccentricity that seemed to border genius and madness. Goddess forbid his friend ever slipped off the edge.

“Yeah, well, it could have been worse.” Chalk said with a yawn.

“You got that right.” Bracken sniffed, “You could have drunk all the tea too!”

“Ah…” Chalky rubbed his muzzle, “Sorry about that.”

Bracken shook his head, “You’re my friend, Chalky, I just…worry about you, you know?”

“Yeah…” the white unicorn scrubbed his mane, “I know.”

“What was it like over there?”

Chalk looked away, his gaze distant, “Like…history, frozen in time. It was a graveyard, Brack, and it scared the crap out of me.” He shuddered, “I think I’m going to be seeing those…ponies…” he sighed, “for a very long time.”

“Ponies? There were ponies there?” Bracken asked in surprise.

Chalk nodded, “I thought they were statues, but…they weren’t.” He sighed and rubbed his face, “It was like everything and everypony had suddenly just ‘stopped’, you know? Like time had stood still for them.” He took a sip of his tea, “Remember the island? This was like that - all that pink and blue crystal stuff everywhere.” Chalk shuddered, “I don’t want to see that damnable stuff ever again!”

Bracken rubbed his friends shoulder reassuringly, “Well, I don’t know what that thing was that chased you, but you’re here, safe, and still in one piece.”

“Only just!” Chalk replied shaking his mane, “If it wasn’t for Starswirl, I wouldn’t be here now.”

“If it wasn’t for Starswirl, you wouldn’t have gone through that bloody portal in the first place!” Bracken replied loudly.

Chalk went to say something but relented, raising a hoof, “You’re right…” he looked over his shoulder towards the door, “How is he anyway? Arathea said he was alright, but I haven’t seen him.”

Bracken shrugged, “I don’t know, and frankly I don’t really care. He nearly got you killed.”

Chalk snorted, “Becoming a habit this, isn’t it?” clopping his hind leg, he jumped off the chair, “Well, I don’t know about you, but I want to explore. I can’t stand being cooped up all the time.”

“Well explore away, my friend,” Bracken laughed, “but beware of strange grey unicorns and portals!”

Chalk smiled, “What about you?”

“Me?” Bracken shrugged, “Think I’ll stop here and read for a while, I still feel exhausted from last night.”

With a wave, Chalk trotted out of the room and down the brightly lit corridor. It was full sunshine outside and felt wonderfully warming against his fur. Actually, the fortress itself was surprising warm, and had a vibrancy to it that gave an impression of welcome, and of being ‘home’. Even outside, the scenery was bright, and exceptionally beautiful today. The mountains dominated everything, their snowy peaks pure and white, the sun glinting off the slopes making them sparkle like a million diamonds. He couldn’t help but smile at the magnificence of it all, and eventually, and rather reluctantly, trotted off to see more of this incredible place.

The corridors abounded with yet more of the colourful tapestries, carpets and sconces. Dried flower arrangement sat here and there, each carefully placed just so, adding a tailored individual touch to each area. It was unbelievable how much care and thought the lady of the fortress had paid to her home, and also the amount of time spent. Now she was a mother, doubtless she would have less time to spend on the decorating, however the army of staff seemed to be just as dedicated to the upkeep of their home as their mistress was. Everywhere there were ponies cleaning, dusting, and generally caring for this beautiful place. Chalk smiled, in fact, he didn’t think he’d stopped smiling since he’d left the bedchamber this morning. Staff here and there would bow or curtsey as he passed by and he would wave to them happily. It was a joyful place - one of life and the sheer exuberance of being alive. Chalk liked it here, he liked it very much indeed.

“Sir?” a lilac unicorn mare appeared dressed in a black a white maids uniform, “Master Starswirl has requested your presence. Would you kindly follow me?”

Chalk shrugged, trotting after the maid, while admiring the changing décor of the fortress’s halls.

“It must take some upkeep this place.” Chalk said conversationally, “I imagine you’re all kept busy.”

The maid nodded, glancing over her shoulder at him, “Yes, sir.”

Chalk smiled back at her, watching her cheeks blush before she quickly looked away. He still had it! It was hard being so devilishly attractive, he wondered to himself with a wry grin - he was virtually beating mares off with a stick lately. Chuckling, his thoughts drifted to Gretel and a sudden wave of melancholy washed over him with its insidious tendrils. Even though she said she would, what if…what if she didn’t want to wait for him anymore? He couldn’t blame her really, he’d been away from her for months now, and for all she knew he could be dead. He pondered how he would feel in her shoes - if he were the one left behind and forever wondering what had happened to the pony he loved. Chalk sniffed, a stinging in his eyes threatening to send forth tears he didn’t want to shed. He missed her; Goddesses, he missed her so much. Thankfully he was quickly distracted by a large dark wood door looming in front of him, the sound of glass clinking and bubbling coming from beyond it a sure sign that somepony was at work in there.

The maid knocked.

“Come!”

“Master Starswirl? It’s…Eep!” the maid suddenly vanished into the room and the door slammed shut behind her. Chalk’s eyes went wide. What the hell?! Should he open the door and…hang on…

Giggles and laughing drifted through the narrow gap in the doorframe, catching Chalk’s ear. He leaned forward to listen only to have to jump back as the maid re-emerged, adjusting her headpiece,

“Oh! Er…” she cleared her throat, “Master Starswirl will see you now, sir.” She bobbed her head and trotted away, a huge grin on her face. Suddenly a grey face appeared around the edge of the door,

“Iris? Could you send tea please, for two. Oh, and some of Madam Huckleberry’s tarts too.”

The maid bobbed her head and vanished around the corner of the corridor.

“Chalky! So good to see you my boy, please, come in, come in!” The grey coated wizard waved a hoof, closing the door behind Chalk with an expansive smile, “Thank the Gods you’re alright. My goodness I thought we were goners for sure. I have to say though, you really surprised me back there.” He clopped Chalk on the shoulder, steering him into a chair, “What you did was…well, frankly my boy…unbelieveable!”

“It was?” Chalk shrugged, “I don’t remember much, just that I ran like buggery from whatever that ‘thing’ was. I’ll be honest, Starswirl, its put me off adventuring for a while - I’m getting a bit fed up with near death encounters!”

“Tish tosh!” Starswirl said dismissively waving a hoof, “The price of knowledge can be a little danger at times, my young friend. Take these for example,” he tossed Chalk a small egg like device, “what do you think of that, eh?”

Chalk stared at the thing, unsure what to make of it, “Well, um…it’s a metal egg?”

“Ah! And well you may think so.” Starswirl picked it up in his magic, “A little project of mine; you’ll like this one I’m sure.” He cleared his throat, “Perhaps you are aware of the unstable magical compounds being produced by the griffins?” Chalk nodded. “Awful stuff,” Starswirl continued, “a diabolical mixture that could blast you into tiny little pony pieces if you only so much as dropped it.”

He didn’t need a description, Chalk had seen the damned stuff in action, albeit against the enemy. Still, the thought of it being used against his friends wasn’t something he wanted to contemplate.

“Now,” Starswirl said, perching a pair of wire frame spectacles on his muzzle, “imagine if you will, condensing such magic, rendering it down as a chef creates a reduction: enhancing, emphasising.” He slowly turned the egg before Chalk’s eyes, “If all that devastation, all that raw energy, could fit inside something as small as a chicken’s egg…”

“That’s one hell of a chicken!” Chalk gasped.

“Oh, don’t worry, this one’s empty.” Starswirl replied offhoofedly, “But I do have several prototypes ready for testing.”

“But…why would you need to make something like this?” Chalk asked in amazement, “Do you realise what these could do in the wrong hooves?”

Starswirl clucked his tongue, “Nonsense. Look.” He pulled his stool closer and climbed up onto it while placing the egg beside them on the table, “Imagine something so powerful, so unimaginable deadly, that should you use it your enemy would likely retaliate with the same force.” He explained, “Both would cancel each other out, creating a stalemate that would result in both combatants being too frightened to use it against the other. In effect, this would remove even the possibility for it to be used inappropriately.” The wizard smiled, “I call this…” he paused for effect, “the Magical Annihilation Device” Starswirl tapped the metal egg, his eyes sparkling, “In essence Chalky, you would have to ‘MAD’ to us it as a weapon.” The grey pony waggled his eyebrows.

“You don’t think that, you know, they’re a little…dangerous?” Chalk asked staring at the thing, “I mean, they’re so small.”

“Aha! Well, that’s the beauty of them you see.” Starswirl adjusted his glasses and rotated the egg, “the usual initiation method is a timed fuse of some design, although with it being so unstable, sneezing might work just as well.” He shrugged, “But this! See here…” he pointed to a small hole in the top, “Pop this small rod in here, and you see how it has two crystals? The red one glows to show its in place and when you press it, the green light comes on to show its ready.”

Chalk furrowed his brow, “Ready? What happens then?”

Starswirl shrugged, “You have about thirty seconds to run.”

“Thirty seconds?!”

“Mmhmm.” Starswirl nodded placing the egg back on the bench, “I timed how fast an average pony could run in a straight line out of minimum safe distance. Of course, I allowed for various factors, but I think it would do the job nicely.”

“Dear Goddesses.” Chalk breathed.

“I know, right? Imagine it Chalky, an end to war, an end to suffering and all the killing! If we can export these across the globe, we’ll be able to finally have the peace we’ve always wanted. Of course…” he pondered tapping his chin, “we’d have to ensure all sides had them, but it is most certainly achievable.” He grinned, “I’ve even considered them for mining applications, with smaller ones for blasting rather than all that manual work.”

“Smaller ones?” Chalk asked in surprise.

“Work in progress my boy, work in progress.”

Chalk shook his head in wonder. It was entirely possible, he supposed. After all, if each combatant had a method of annihilating the other, then who would be insane enough to want to use them? There was the slight problem that the wendigo now had these things of course, or rather, Starswirl did, but it was only a matter of time wasn’t it? He shuddered. It was all the more reason to try and get him away from here and back to Equestria. If nothing else, they’d be able to complete their mission and be hailed as heroes! Speaking of which…

“Starswirl? How come you’re not, you know, injured? I thought you’d been hurt last night?”

“Hmm?” Starswirl looked up from making notes in a pocket book, “Oh! You mean after our little soiree through the portal?” he said with a shrug, “Iris is quite the seamstress young Chalky.” He lifted up the corner of his cloak, displayed the shaved lines and neat stitches, “A little magic and a light touch is all it took and I feel as right as rain!”

Chalk shook his head in wonder. Come to think of it, he had more than his fair share of scars, and they pulled every now and again, reminding him of the damage he’d had inflicted upon his body since his fateful decision to join the army. Gretel didn’t mind though, and she certainly had more than a few of her own. He remember sitting with her on the rug in her cabin one day and tracing each others, trying to remember how they’d got them and where. The feel of her hooves against his fur had been tickly, sending him into fits of giggles, until eventually…

“Now.” Starswirl thumped the top of his notebook, making Chalk jump, “I want to have a look at that magic of yours.”

Chalk blinked, “My magic? Why?”

The grey wizard shook his mane, “You don’t know? Good grief, Chalky, your magic’s a mess! Has nopony ever given you mana alignment training? In a stallion your age, you should have had at least some.”

“I don’t even know what that is.” Chalk replied truthfully, “I went to school like everypony else, for a while anyway, and then went into the workshop to learn my mum’s trade.”

Starswirl nodded, “And what was that?”

“Woodworking mostly, some textiles and…”

The mage facehoofed, “You…you were a woodworker?!”

“Well…yes,” Chalk replied, “what was wrong with that?”

Starswirl shook his head in disbelief, “Basic object manipulation, right? Nothing more complicated?”

“I can…um…use illumination spells, light fires and that.” Chalk said feeling a little embarrassed.

Starswirl shook his head, “It all makes sense now.” He scratched his forehead and trotted over to a cabinet, returning with a large square device which he placed in front of Chalk, “Right, put your hooves on the pads and clear your mind. No talking now.”

Chalk peered at the thing: it was a two foot square glass cube, with pads equally spaced for your hooves and a large dial that had numerous small crystals and numbers set into it. He shrugged and did as the wizard requested, placing his hooves on it and, taking a calming breath, closed his eyes.

“Now,” Starswirl began, “I want you to listen to my voice, and only my voice.” A moment later, Chalk began to hear a pencil scratching against paper. “Think of a flower, a small white flower with a yellow centre. Think of it growing, taller, its petals growing outwards as it reaches towards the sun. It’s bigger now, larger…larger…”

Chalk did as he was instructed and pictured it all in his mind, feeling his magic tingling and warming him as he did so. It was unusual, but he went along with it.

“Open your eyes, Chalky.”

Starswirl leaned across, peering at the gauge, then returned to making notes as he nodded his head. He looked up at the white unicorn over the top of his spectacles,

“Now, I want you to light this candle.”

Well, that was easy enough. With little more than a tiny trickle, Chalk excited the air around the wick, causing the air to shimmer and a small flame to pop into existence.

“Hmm.” Starswirl placed a strange wire structure on Chalk’s head, adjusting things on it for several moments and then placed a large glass globe in front of him. “I want you to imagine a flame,” The mage said calmly, “a very, very small flame. Centre it in the middle of this globe.”

Chalk took a breath and stared at the globe, trying to create the flame as normal. Nothing happened. Furrowing his brow, Chalk tried again…still nothing.

Starswirl was saying something, but Chalk couldn’t here the words. Determined to do this, he concentrated, focussing on the globe, channelling his magic. He pushed. It was like there was a blockage there of some sort, a restriction that was holding back the flow, a flow that was beginning to back up, the pressure building more and more. He blocked out everything around him; he could see it in his minds eye - the air dancing, a tiny spark, a flame burning brighter and brighter, bringing the warmth of the sun to the…

The very air in the room seemed to move, and then screamed in protest as the glass globe exploded into a million fragments. Chalk ducked just before the pressure wave hit him, yet…never did. Peering over the edge of the bench, he thanked the Goddesses that Starswirl had thrown up a shield around the thing or the two of them could have been reduced to bloodied shreds.

Inside the glowing blue light of the shield, the glass globe had been reduced to a lump of shining molten material…glass.

Starswirl stared at the shield, sweat beading on his brow, “I think we need to do some basic exercises before we do any more, Mister Chalk.” He said breathily..

“Wasn’t that meant to happen?” Chalk looked down at the contraption his hooves were resting on. The needle hadn’t budged much - it just quivered in place. He felt his heart sink and his ears flopped dejectedly, “Oh…”

Starswirl pushed a glass of water in front of him, taking a mouthful of his own,

“The needle’s not moving because it only goes so high.” He said quietly, “You have a great deal of magic within you, a great deal indeed, but with so little training it will eventually kill you.” Starswirl removed the metal frame from Chalk’s head, “If you spent your life doing mundane and simple tasks then you would in all likelihood never notice, but all it will take is one traumatic event where your body reacts instinctively to danger and…total thaumaturgical reversal.”

“What that?!” Chalk said in alarm, “That doesn’t sound good!”

“It’s where your magic, with nowhere to go, turns in on itself, consuming all the energy within your body until…” Starswirl clopped his hooves together, “Poof”.

“Poof?”

The mage nodded, “Poof…”

“I don’t want to go poof!” Chalk jumped down off the chair, “What am I going to do?!”

Starswirl adjusted his hat and cleared his throat, “We need to remove the restriction in your energy flow and allow the channels to open up so the magic can dissipate effectively. We’ll practice basic spells first, bringing you up slowly so you can better understand what it is your magic is doing.”

“So long as I don’t go ‘poof’ I’ll do whatever it takes, Starswirl.” Chalk said emphatically, “I’m ready now, when do we start?”

The grey stallion smiled, “Now’s as good a time as any my dear fellow. Now, first things first, I want you to open that draw and lift out the wooden box with the bronze inlay.”

Chalk concentrated, reaching out, lifting the handle, pulling out the draw and floating over the box to land neatly in front of Starswirl,

“Easy!” Chalk announced, clopping his hoof on the bench, “What’s next?”

“Hmm?” Starswirl lifted out his pipe and tobacco, “Oh this wasn’t part of the lesson.” He packed his pipe and held it up, indicating for Chalk to light it, “I just wanted a smoke.”

Chapter Forty Seven - On Other Wings

CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

ON OTHER WINGS

Fire, smoke, the burning heat of the flames…they were everywhere. Dear Celestia, they’d come out of nowhere, charging through the camp with axe, sword, spear and fire, killing everypony in their path and disappearing into the night as fast as they’d appeared. None of them had made a sound: no neighs, shouts, screams, just…silence. It was terrifying, and the cries and moans of the wounded and dying left in their wake was too awful to contemplate. Some of their number, the more impetuous, had gone after their attackers, charging off into the forest. None of them had returned. Thank the Goddesses that their precious barrels hadn’t been hit or there’d have been nothing left of any of them.

Cove groaned, pulling himself to his hooves and surveyed the damage. It was bad; they’d lost at least six killed and eight wounded, including much of their medical supplies. There was a strange irony in that which he didn’t want to think of right then. What was more pressing now however, was working out how the hell had the Legion had found them and defend themselves against further attack. They’d been careful, keeping under the tree’s, moving only at night, and made sure to cover their tracks…so what the hell had gone wrong? He’d have to think about it later, for now though, he had to get them into some semblance of order. In the immediate aftermath of the attack, many of them had become spread out along the game trail they’d been following, and at any time those damned things could come back. He shook his mane; oh yes, sooner or later they would come…

“Lieutenant!” One of the medics trotted over, dropping down beside him, “Are you…damn!” she lifted her hooves to his shoulder and levitated out the medical set from her pannier, “Hold still, I’ve got to fix this or you’ll bleed out.”

The mare worked while Cove barked his orders, pulling in the troops to form a tighter defensive perimeter. They would need to hold up for the night; if they kept moving those bloody things would just pick them off one by one. In the darkness of the forest at night, the black coats of the thestrals would give them a distinct advantage. Starch however, didn’t agree; he wanted to keep moving, to head to more open ground where they could see their attackers coming. The problem was, they had no idea how many were out there - they’d lost all of their pegasi in the last attack. It was as if the bloody things knew they would pull them in due to the thick forest canopy where a pegasus was of little use, especially with night drawing in. He should have kept them up there, he should have…damn it all! It was a mistake that was going to cost them now. Cove grimaced; it had only been a matter of time before the thestrals began organising to track down the various teams. He could only hope they hadn’t kicked a hornets nest too big for them to handle.

Starch appeared, wiping grime from his face and shaking his head sadly,

“We’ve lost a few more. Their wounds were just too severe.”

“Damn…” Cove nodded his thanks to the medic who finished up and trotted off back to the others, “We’re in it this time, Starch. Those moon cursed things went through us like butter.”

“I’ve never seen thestrals fight like that before.” Starch replied solemnly, “I thought they’d have slammed into us and just kept slugging away until the last one fell.”

“Which suggests there’s not as many of them as there are of us.” Cove reasoned, “I think they were trying to break us up, make us go after them into the forest.”

The older stallion snorted, “Hmph, it worked too. It was the new bucks who raced after them, like lambs to the bloody slaughter.

“Any of them come back?”

Starch let out a sigh, “You already know the answer to that, old boy.”

The defensive perimeter was quickly set up. Sharpened stakes, tree branches, anything that could be utilised to slow up or break up an attack was put into use. Unicorns were placed at intervals to provide illumination and ranged fire along with crossbow armed ponies. Once the guards had been posted, the others, including the wounded, were able to rest and be tended to. The rest of the night passed without incident and, in some strange way, it was more terrifying than another attack. Nothing else happened…there was no sound, no movement…nothing. The forest was as silent as a graveyard.

Everypony was ready to move when morning came and the sun began to filter through the trees. Their next target was a good days march to the north, but the risk…Cove sat on his haunches, rubbing his temples,

“Starch, you’ve fought them before, what do you recommend?”

The orange stallion stretched his neck and nodded slowly, “We can’t complete our next objective while we’re being pursued that’s for sure, and as sure as I’ve got a hole in my arse, our monotone friends will be back.” He scratched his ear, “For now, I’d recommend we abort the mission; I’d also suggest we stop being the mouse and become the cat or else they’ll keep the initiative and it will only become a matter of time before we end up as leftovers for the carrion.” Starch looked over at the ponies getting their gear together. “Look at them Cove, they’re scared witless. We need to do something, and we don’t have long to figure it out.”

The young Lieutenant stared up at the sky, at the way the early morning light played through the leaves making their coats appear patchy and confused. He nodded to himself as a thought began to form in his mind…maybe it could work…maybe…

In the shadows of the forest, burning red eyes watched silently.

*****************************

The peculiar creature looked like a pony that had covered itself in glue and then rolled in wool. Alright, maybe grown a few feet as well, had its neck stretched and…oh, sod it! Cyclone didn’t know what these things looked like! They were just…weird. The bloody thing could barely speak Equestrian either and had the strangest accent she’d ever heard. It kept looking at her, but talking to Stock, and she didn’t like that…she didn’t like it one bit. Come to think of it, was it actually looking at her at all? She couldn’t see its eyes for the mop of woolly stuff over its face.

“You like, yes? Plenty good for pretty pony?”

“These are the one’s listed on the order, aren’t they?” Stock tapped the list they’d received from the customer.

The Llamalian trader adjusted its small red hat, “Yes, order is fine, but you want these too. Pretty pony like these.” He…it…whatever it was, nodded towards Cyclone, “Pony like pretty things, yes? Do you good deal on excellent merchandise.”

“What sort of deal?” Cyclone asked. Goddesses her skin felt like it was covered in ants. What was with this guy?

The Llama smiled, its teeth large and white gleaming in the intense sunlight, “Four thousand bits. Good deal, yes?”

“F…Four thousand?!” Cyclone gasped, looking up at Stock.

He shook his head, “All ten of them,”

“No!” the trader said shaking his head, “Four. One thousand each is a pittance for such beautiful quality, no?”

“No, it bloody isn’t!” Cyclone snorted, nudging Stock in the shoulder, “Just get what we agreed!”

“I’ll give you four thousand and an extra five hundred.”

The merchant shook his head and continued on his long explanation of how ‘wonderful’ and ‘beautiful’ the rugs were. Cyclone’s brain felt like it was going to explode! Stuck in this boiling hot, noisy, dusty city with an argumentative bloody ‘thing’ made her feel like she was going to pass out. How the hell did they survive here with all that wool? Goddess buck her into next week, she’d be itching to shave the lot off and leap into a river just to keep cool! Hang on…it had gone quiet, and the two males were shaking hooves. Did…did it even have hooves?

“A pleasure doing business with you, ponies.” The merchant said bobbing his head. He turned a smile on Cyclone, “A most…excellent…arrangement.”

“Mmm, I’m sure.” Cyclone muttered. She looked up at Stock, “Can we go now?” she asked in a sarcastic voice.

The two ponies left the merchant’s shop after making arrangements for the delivery of the ‘merchandise’ to the docks. Cyclone stared at the list, reading though it piece by piece. She shook her head and read again,

“This isn’t right…” she murmured, “No. No, this can’t be.”

“What’s wrong?” Stock rumbled beside her.

Cyclone jumped in front of him, holding up the list with her hoof,

“Explain to me how we managed to get all…this, for four thousand? There’s at least eight thousand bits worth here and even after we take into account the port taxes, crew wages and everything else, not to mention the profit we’re expecting…bloody hell, Stock, we’ll be rolling in it!”

“Aye, I reckon we will.”

“I don’t understand,” Cyclone said frowning, “how did you manage to get such a great deal from him? I didn’t think the woolly sod was going to give any ground at all back there.”

Stock said nothing.

“Stock? What’s going on here?”

The big stallion huffed, “Nothing.”

Cyclone pushed him suddenly in the chest with both hooves and stared him in the face,

“Don’t give me that! What’s going on? Tell me!”

The Ship’s Master stood staring at her, keeping his voice level, “I don’t know how you can ask me that after you agreed to…” he trailed off.

“To what?”

Stock narrowed his eyes, “You don’t know? But…you agreed to it!”

“I…I don’t know! I wasn’t listening!” Cyclone protested, “It’s so hot, I was tired and you know Llamalian’s don’t like listening to females and…oh no…”

Suddenly it began to come back to her in fractured pieces. Something about females, dinner, the ship…she’d simply nodded and agreed just to shut him up. She had…she’d agreed to…to something else, hadn’t she?

Stock looked at her and shook his head, “You weren’t listening…” he groaned and facehoofed, “No wonder...” The big stallion leaned against the large cool stone of the immense city walls, “Look, we can just go back and tell him the deal’s off. We can always…”

“NO!” Cyclone cut in, “We’d lose face! I’ve only recently taken command of the ship and the crew need paying - we can’t do that or we’ll be ostracised by the merchants guild.”

Stock stared up into the sky, “I don’t like it, Cyclone. Call me selfish if you like, but you and…and him…” he rumbled low in his throat, “If he touches you…”

Cyclone reached out to him and kissed his cheek, “I wouldn’t do that, love, I promise.” She hung her head, “Oh Stock, I’ve been such a bloody idiot. What have I done…”

“It’s just dinner at the Captain’s table, Cyclone, that’s all. If he thinks he’s getting any more, then, well…it wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Why didn’t you stop me?” she groaned, “You should have known…”

“’I should have known you weren’t listening’?! Cyclone!” he shook his head at her in exasperation, “Mares!”

She couldn’t blame him for being angry, if it had been him agreeing to something like that she’d have been incensed. As it was, it was the angriest she’d ever seen him, and it…hurt. Hanging her head, she gave herself a shake. It was just a meal with the Llama wasn’t it? Nothing more. What could go wrong? Whinnying, she cantered after the brown stallion.

The rest of the day was spent loading cargo and the ship being made ready for sail. Stock was still angry with her, she could tell - he’d hardly spoken to her since they’d got back. She sat in the cabin and hung her head, furious with herself, and at Stock. Why couldn’t he be more understanding? He didn’t have to be so damned obtuse about things, after all, it wasn’t like she’d agreed to sleep with the woolly thing had she? She paused…had she? Oh Goddesses! Wait…no, no she hadn’t, but then she knew so little of these things. Cyclone shook her mane and slumped on the bed, her hoof trailing against the decking.

Cyclone? Are you hurt?

The green pegasus shook her head at the ship’s concerned question,

“No, Windy, I’m fine.”

Come to me…

She sighed, “Aye…”

Cyclone let herself relax, her mind slipping free of her damaged physical shell. Her body was broken, a flightless winged creature, bound the earth beneath her hooves. But here, with the Wind Wraith, she flew…and how she flew! The ship knew her, understood her, even with little more than just the few months they’d spent together, their relationship had grown and developed. Years of ceaseless cruelty and the thoughtless horrors committed by those upon her and within her, had left the ship as scarred as her captain. But now, submerged as Cyclone was within the Wind Wraith, she was felt safe, secure…and happy.

Cyclone floated in the darkness, her eyes closed as all other sight, sound and thought was replaced with this new ‘being’. She smiled to herself. Simply existing in this place, this quiet, had been frightening at first, but now…now she longed for it. Everyday, with all the stresses and strains of running a vessel, she would increasingly retreat to the darkness and just ‘be’.

Cyclone? Do not do this.

“Hmm?” the pegasus mare sighed, “I know, I should just send word to him and refuse to go ahead with it.”

No. This. Spending so much time with me, away from you.

Cyclone clucked her tongue, “Stop being a worry wart, Windy. It’s fine.”

What about the stallion? Stock, he loves you.

“I know, its just,” The Captain shook her mane, “sometimes I like to be away from it all. It’s…it’s…oh I don’t know!”

A sense of caring and concern emanated from the Wind Wraith, wrapping itself around her.

You miss flying. I can feel it from you, I can see it in your eyes.

Cyclone nodded, “I do. I thought I was used to it, that I’d accepted it, but…I can’t Windy…I can’t!” she fought back a sob and squeezed her eyes shut, “Please, I don’t want to talk about this.”

Open your eyes. I have something to show you.

The mare did so, looking out at…the sky. Her eyes went wide. It was the sky! It was all around her, above her, below her – it was all around her!

Stretch out your wings.

She…she couldn’t…her wings, the muscles and bones, everything was…

Fly.

“I can’t!” Cyclone cried out, “I…I can’t, my wings are…”

Fly.

Cyclone felt like screaming. Her eyes streamed tears for all the years of being trapped on the ground, her wings smashed and useless, strapped to her sides and hidden from the sun. How she remembered the feeling on the warmth of a summers day upon them, the way her feathers would ripple in the breeze, how the air would feel as she beat them against it, propelling herself up…up into the blue. She strained her body; pushing, kicking her legs and shaking her mane and tail, thrashing against the shackles that held her down, fighting the great weight of gravity which pulled at her. She screamed out her rage and anger at the world, her fury at the cruelty and senselessness of what those beasts had done to her, the pain, the humiliation…

Forelegs gently wrapped themselves around her neck, and…something nuzzled her. She gasped and pulled back, away from…nothing. Cyclone looked around in shock,

“Wind?”

I have learned, I have seen.

Cyclone looked about her at the blue sky and white clouds. The ship’s voice seemed to be coming from near her, but she couldn’t place it. She sounded…different.

“Come…fly with me.”

Cyclone blinked, then blinked again. A pure white pegasus mare with a long pink mane and tail, flew past her and looped back, her hair streaming out behind her like a comet. She was…beautiful. Cyclone stared in amazement and awe - she was like…a Goddess. The Wind Wraith flapped her wings lazily and soared up into the sky before diving down beneath the startled green pegasus, only to soared back up, effortlessly holding her position in front of the wide eyed Captain.

“Surprised?”

“I…” Cyclone wet her lips, “Wind?”

The white mare laughed, “If that is what you wish to call me, my captain, then so it shall be.”

“But…I didn’t think…”

Wind chuckled, “-No, neither did I, but Amy showed me. It is within us all, those of us that are still here. The magic was always inside me, it just needed a strong enough emotion to unlock the door to my inner self.” She laughed, “Am I not beautiful?”

Cyclone laughed, “You are! You are unbelievably beautiful!”

The white pegasus drew nearer, her golden eyes shining in the sun,

“Come…fly with me.”

“I can’t, my wings…” Cyclone’s eyes stung as she fought back tears.

Wind shook her head, “Here, in your heart, they are as beautiful as you are, my Captain.” She took Cyclone’s forehooves in hers, “Let me show you…”

With a gasp of shock, the green mare found herself suddenly pulled forward, the wind whipping past her and flowing under her…under her wings. She closed her eyes,

“Please…oh, please…please…”

Wind laughed, “You have always been able to fly. It is within your heart, your mind and your soul. Your physical body may be grounded, but you, the real you, is as free as the wind beneath your wings.” She kissed her on the nose, “Come…let us fly together.”

Almost instinctively, Cyclone flapped her wings. The all but forgotten feelings, the power, the freedom, the sense of liberation, was…it was overwhelming. She shot upwards, flying effortlessly past the white mare, soaring up, higher and higher. She was free…FREE! With a scream of sheer joy, Cyclone swept through the sky, plunged through clouds, diving, rolling, soaring…she was finally free!

The white mare came up alongside her, her eyes watching her with a subtle smile,

“Whenever you wish, you may join me here, in my world, our world, and fly.” She reached out and cradled her Captain’s head in her forelegs, “Don’t forget this is only part of who you are. Do not neglect your physical self, for as with all things in the world, balance is the key to harmony.” She gave her a wink, “You have a balance there too, remember?”

Stock. Cyclone smiled, and then let out a groan. That bloody Llamalian! He’d be here any time and…

“A Llamalian?” Wind asked curiously, “Does he know I am one of the fleet’s vessels?”

“I don’t know, I suppose so, he never asked.” Cyclone thought for a moment, “No, he just took the paperwork from me, haggled and then I landed myself in this bloody mess.”

“We shall see…” Wind chuckled, looping around Cyclone once more, “Now, I believe we have time for me to show you the towers of the City of Amber, where I was I was born. Its towers were like needles, pointing high into the heavens, so high that some even had snow on them in summer!”

“No!”

Wind winked at her, “Shall we see?”

********************

Stock sat on his haunches, knocking back another rum. They’d been in there an hour now, and each toll of the bell was like a dagger in his heart. The crew were keeping well out of his way - new and old hooves alike. And well they should. Goddesses he was in a foul mood! He slammed down his cup and lifted the bottle in his forelegs, trying to pour out another, but the bloody thing kept moving,

“Keep still, damn you!”

What the hell was wrong with this ship? He hadn’t drunk that much had he? Even the crew seemed unsettled as the deck heaved suddenly. Giving up on the cup he drank straight from the bottle, downing a good quarter before letting out an almighty belch. He was hungry too…really hungry, and by the all the Gods and Goddesses in the eternal herd, he knew where to find food too…

Stock staggered up the heaving deck, slamming into the railing and nearly pitching muzzle first into the door to the Captains cabin. Reaching out a hoof to steady himself, he misjudged his aim and crashed into a pile of ropes and other assorted equipment. Cursing under his breath, he stared daggers at the door, the very door that blocked his view of that…that thing! Gods above, why was he so jealous? Didn’t he trust her? Yes…yes he did, but still…damn it all! Something like that wool covered creature may turn her head. He’d heard how mares went for the ‘new’ and ‘exotic’ foreign types, and that guy ticked every box going. Worse still, he knew damned well what the thing was after and it was a damned sight more than wafer thin mints for after dinner! He gritted his teeth, determined to go in there, trading deal or not.

The door suddenly flew open with a bang.

“But Faffle, you haven’t finished your desert yet!” Cyclone’s voice carried out onto the deck.

The Llama wasn’t listening; the cream coloured creature was heading for the main mast although seemed to be spending more time going sideways than making any actual headway. Stock stared in amazement: he’d never seen a Llama that colour before…

“Out of…out of my…oh!” the merchant staggered into the mast as the deck heaved again, sending him sliding across the deck towards the gangplank, “Let me off! Let…” he suddenly leaned forward and threw up all over the deck and himself, all the earlier suave decorum thrown to the wind. Two of the deck hooves went to help him, cringing back when the vomit covered creature tried to stand. Stock couldn’t help but smirk at the state their guest was in.

“Gods help me, I want to get off!” the poor Llama was on his belly, dragging himself to the edge of the ship and all but rolling off to land unceremoniously in a heap at the bottom of the gangplank.

“You okay?” One of the crew shouted down.

“I never go on ship again! NEVER!” the Llama shrieked, finally pulling himself to his hooves and charging off into the busy dock district beyond.

The Wind Wraith finally settled in the water, the calm spreading out beneath the keel, but also amongst the crew. Stock could sense it, he could also sense something else…humour.

“Stock?” Cyclone’s big purple eyes loomed over him, “You’re drunk.”

He nodded, “Aye, Captain, I am, and I intend to get drunker still.” He lifted the bottle, “As punishment for drinking too much.”

Cyclone shook her head, “Then do it where you’re not making a spectacle of yourself and get your sorry bones in the cabin.”

“Next on the list eh?” he burped.

The Captain’s eyes flashed dangerously,

“What did you say?”

“I said…”

Her hoof shot out and cracked Stock across the jaw, sending the big stallion to the deck in an alcohol soaked mess.

“Bosun!” Cyclone yelled, storming back towards her cabin, “Throw THAT into the brig until he sobers up.”

“Aye, aye Cap’n.”

The cabin door slammed shut. Inside, the Captain leaned back against it, her eyes filling with tears. That…that bloody horses cock! What the hell was he thinking? Damn it, she was so angry! Storming over to the drinks cabinet she took out a bottle of wine and poured herself a generous measure before dropping onto the bench seat beneath the window where she could look out over the bay. Stock was usually such a sensible stallion; a stickler for the rules and a disciplinarian, but he was also a surprisingly gentle lover for such a powerful creature. Of course, she knew why he felt the way he did and why he’d soused himself in alcohol - she may even have done the same had the roles been reversed, but…but it still hurt. Didn’t he trust her? Even now, after everything they’d been through? Sometimes, she could still feel the bite of the lash against her skin, the look in his eyes…and then…the way he took the rest of the punishment for her. Cyclone took a mouthful of her wine and closed her eyes. It probably wouldn’t have been so painful if she didn’t love him so. She shook her head. With any luck, the stupid bugger would have a hell of bad head in the morning and serve him bloody right! Beneath her, she could feel the Wind Wraith singing a wordless song of freedom and joy, extolling the sheer exuberance of life. She had to smile; despite the turmoil in her heart, everything would be alright in the morning, with the dawning of a new day.

Chapter Forty Eight - The Face of War

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

THE FACE OF WAR

There were less of them now than there had been, but they were still outnumbered. Tempest rubbed his eyes; when was the last time he’d had any sleep? Days? Weeks? He couldn’t remember, but none of that was important, only the rage and hatred that drove him on. His troops looked to him for leadership, but what they had really come for was the same reason he had. Even the ponies which he had with him had the same look about them as the thestrals and even minotaurs…they wanted to kill the ones responsible for murdering their friends…their families.

They’d tracked them for days. It hadn’t been difficult: one of their ponies had been a hunter working at the griffin food traders - a strange profession for an Equestrian perhaps, but everybody needed to make a living. The biggest challenge they’d had, had been those damned pegasi that acted as scouts for the enemy. With their razor sharp eyesight, it had taken all their ingenuity to stay hidden, but as clever as the enemy was, there was a chink in their armour. Nearing the dense heart of the forest, the pegasi were obviously finding it harder and harder to find a place to land, and their scouting missions were ending earlier in the day to allow them to join their fellows for the night. And pegasi being pegasi, they had a tendency to keep to their own kind for company - a trait that kept them nicely contained.

That had been the focus of their attack. That, and the medical supplies.

Tempest stared off towards the Celestian encampment; they were learning. Their commander appeared to have some military experience and had prepared good defences, now moving during the daytime rather than the night, thus negating some of the benefits the thestrals enjoyed due to their natural colouring.

“Sir,” the scout slipped up beside him as quiet a breath, “A group of the Celestians have broken off from the main camp and are heading towards the village on the edge of the forest. They’ve left their baggage and equipment in the camp under light guard.”

Tempest narrowed his eyes, scanning the camp with his telescope. It was hard to see with the dappled light, but there was definitely still a presence there. He could see the outlines of ponies moving around, but there were many more hiding behind barricades and brush - no doubt keeping a low profile to avoid being shot by a long range bolt. He scratched his chin in thought. He’d deliberately avoided giving them any reason to think they were being hunted by avoiding any sniping or other incursions. Rather, he wanted them to continue as normal, letting them believe the attack had been an isolated incident. Tempest had bided his time until he was ready, until the time was right, and now…now it was.

“Time to show our Celestian friends that if you play with fire…” he grinned coldly, “you get burned.” He looked over his shoulder to his minotaur sergeant, “Axel, you know the plan, have the warriors move into attack formation.”

The sergeant clapped his hand to his chest in salute and hurried away. High above them in the branches of the trees, the birds were singing happily, completely oblivious of the carnage that was about to be wrought in the peaceful forest below. Tempest checked his armour and weapons before running through the plan one last time in his head. With most of the Celestians away, they had a chance to hit them, and hit them hard. With no supplies, they would soon weaken, and they would fall – one by one. He pushed himself back into the forest, careful so as not to alert any eagle eyed sentry to his presence. Trotting back to his troops, Tempest unbuckled his axe and checked its blade. A thin length of ribbon, pink with white flecks, hung from the sturdy haft – a splash of colour that was strangely out of place on such a battle scarred weapon; but it was what that simple piece of cloth signified, that meant more to him than any mere blade. Carefully, the warrior lifted lifted it with his hoof and inhaled; it still smelt of her…of Blue Water. He closed his eyes and remembered. Slowly, Tempest sank down to his knees, listening, waiting…

He spoke quietly, “Sergeant…”

“Sir?”

The black coated warrior looked up toward the Celestian camp, to the soldiers moving up into their positions, ready to attack,

“Remember…that white coated bastard’s mine.”

The sergeant nodded, “By your command.”

Moments later a waved signal showed everything was in place. Tempest gritted his teeth,

“Do it.”

A bolt shot out, fizzing through the air and struck the explosive barrel with a hollow ‘thunk’, followed by an almost imperceptible delay before the device detonated, heralding the concussive blast that radiated out from the centre of the clearing. It had been one of the few that had survived the assault on the depot, one of many that had been sent there for decommissioning after the Celstian ‘surrender’. Unlucky for the Celestian’s that the device was just as deadly now as it had ever been. Lifting his hoof, Tempest, the thestrals, the minotaurs and their allies rose as one from the forest like avenging demons. Weapons were drawn, teeth bared, all of them were ready and screaming their anger and hatred as they charged forward. In a flood of steel and muscle, the warriors of the Goddess swept into the smoking crater left by the explosion and into the camps interior, straight into…

The sergeant turned and looked at his commander, lifting one of the hessian sacks that had been leaned against the barricade, the rope attached to it and others giving the impression that…

“GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE NOW!”

Some made it, but not many. Green fire, so horribly familiar, so cruelly efficient, turned the camp into an explosion that rivalled the one that had reduced the barracks and depot to blackened shards. It was like a giant had lifted the very earth beneath their hooves and flung both it, and those upon it, through the air as effortlessly as though they were ants. The blood, the screams, the cries…Tempest’s world vanished in a sea of unimaginable horror - it was happening again, dear Goddess, it was happening…again…

Darkness enveloped him, taking it down into its warm embrace, mercifully pulling him away from the cries of the wounded and dying…even his own.

*************************

Coated in soot and mud, the ponies moved closer to the smoking crater. Many were staring in open eyed shock, a mixture of horror and fascination at the sheer brutality of the explosion on their faces. Body parts had landed around them like rain from hell, some ‘pieces’ horrifyingly stuck in the tree branches above them. It had worked. It had taken most of their explosives to do it, but they’d done it, they’d lured the enemy into their camp and sent them to the next world. For most of them it had been quick, but for others…

“Lieutenant?” It was one of the medics, “Sir?”

Cove trotted over to her, sheathing his sword. It was a pony, an earth stallion like him, his fawn coloured coat soaked in blood, contrasting with the white of bones protruding from multiple breaks along his legs, while his mane and tail were all but burned away. Tempest could barely look; how was he still alive? The stallion coughed, gasping for breath while the medic shook her head. The message was all too clear - he wouldn’t last long.

Leaning down, the Lieutenant spoke quietly to the dying pony,

“Who are you?” he asked, “Why would you fight with the Legion?”

The stallion gritted his teeth, blood soaking his once white teeth,

“B…because…” his coughed, his eyes unfocussed, “because…”

“I’ll tell you why Celestian…”

Cove looked up in alarm as a tall thestral suddenly rose from the grass, mud and debris, swatting the medical pony aside as if she were nothing. Its eyes burned with an intensity given all the more fuel by pain and hatred,

“You murdered his sister, his brother and his entire family.” He hefted a huge battle axe, “And now…” he paused, staring at the Lieutenant, his eyes suddenly going wide in realisation, “It’s you…IT’S YOU!” with a scream of unbridled hate, the thestral flung himself at the Lieutenant, the axe snarling through the air and knocking Cove’s sword flying out of his grasp. With a horrifying howl, thestrals, minotaurs and ponies charged at them from the forest, slamming into them with the full fury of the Legion. No quarter was asked, and none was given. Axe, sword and spear, fire and magic, all were brought into play with deadly efficiency.

Cove tucked his legs under himself and rolled away, desperately trying to reach his sword as the thestral’s axe embedded itself in the ground where he’d been a millisecond before. The thestral screeched in fury, his hooves lashing out and clipping Cove under the chin and sending him sprawling. He gasped in a breath - the warrior’s eyes were like the core of the underworld! He’d seen battle madness before, but nothing like this - nothing! Snatching his sword up in his forehooves, the Lieutenant barely deflected the next swing, managing to bring the blade up and under the thestrals guard, raking his chest. Blood sprayed from the wound, but the creature continued the attack as if nothing had happened. It reared on its hind legs and swung again and again, kicking, biting, it was all the young officer could do to stay alive. Suddenly, the thestral paused, its eyes narrowing, fire licking the side of its muzzle,

“Cove…” it hissed, “I’m going to kill you, Cove, you sickening piece of evil filth!”

The Lieutenant wiped his muzzle, trying to catch his breath. What did the thing just say? He jumped back just in time for the next attack. Fire, blasted out, catching his fur and setting his mane alight. Howling in pain and fright, the Lieutenant dropped to the ground and rolled, trying to put the flames out, but the thestral was expecting it. With a rib cracking jolt, the black coated creature was on him, his axe discarded as he rammed his hooves into Coves throat,

“You bastard!” it shrieked, “You murdered my mare, you murdered my son! I’m going to crush the life from you and watch you die as I watched them!”

Cove kicked and thrashed, desperately trying to shove the skeletal creature from him, but it was too powerful - far too powerful. He gasped for air, choking,

“I…I’m…sorry…”

The thestral pushed harder still, ramming the pony into the ground, “You’re sorry? You’re not sorry! But you will be…in hell!”

There was a sickening crack and Cove coughed, blood spraying from his mouth as his vision narrowed and sparks of light seemed to flow around him like fireflies. He was dying, and there was nothing he could do…nothing. All he could think of was Fair Breeze, the wonderful orange mare who’d shown him such kindness, such love, and now he was going to break her heart…

“I’m sorry…”

The thestral stopped. Slowly, with a look of bewilderment, he sat up, lifting his hooves from Cove’s neck. He looked surprised, his eyes staring down at his own hooves. To the Lieutenant’s amazement, the thetral stared past him, his features softening, as a smile of incredible gentleness and warmth spread over them. He reached out,

“Blue? You’re…alive…”

The thestral slumped forward, making Cove gasp for breath until a dark coated leg kicked the lifeless corpse from him. The cloaked pony leaned down and pulled his bolt from the black creatures side and wiped it clean before staring down at the Lieutenant with eyes as lifeless as the dead thestral’s,

“The usual fee.”

Cove lay on the ground coughing, desperately trying to get some air into his tortured lungs while he watched the heartless creature walk away. Slowly, painfully, he clambered to his hooves with the help of one of his ponies. He felt sick to his stomach, and not just from the damage the thestral had done to his body, it was all around him: death, suffering, the agony he had brought to this once wonderful land. In the smoking remains of their camp, ponies rolled about in indescribable torment while medics, the few they had left, tried desperately to save them - those they could reach in time. Others lay quietly, staring out at their last view of this world, slowly slipping over to the next. Cove looked down at his hooves, to the ruin that had once been a thestral warrior - a warrior from another land. He had been his enemy, and yet…what he had said…

Something fluttered in the smoke laden breeze catching his eye. He reached down, lifting the piece of ragged cloth in his hoof. It was pink, pink with white flecks. Why? Why would a thestral…? Cove sank to his knees, hanging his head,

“Oh, Celestia…” The Lieutenant gasped shakily, “What have we become?”

Chapter Fifty - Goddess of the Night

CHAPTER FIFTY

GODDESS OF THE NIGHT

The door to the conservatory opened.

“My Lord, there’s a thestral to see you.”

Maroc waved a hoof lazily as the skeletal black creature in spiked armour shoved his way past the butler and walked up to stand beside his chair,

“Where are they?”

Maroc smiled innocently, “Ah, Arc, so nice of you to drop by. The Goddess on her way is she?”

“Don’t take that tone with me, Maroc. The Goddess may put up with your damned insolence, but I will not tolerate it!”

“Really?” Maroc took a sip of his brandy, “Such a fiery race, you thestrals aren’t you? That ‘go get ‘em’ spirit must be why Nightmare Moon brought you in.”

The thestral leaned down, flames licking at his muzzle, his eyes narrowing menacingly, “I asked a question, wendigo.”

Maroc took a draw on his cigar, “You haven’t seen my trophy room, have you Arc? I have the heads and even full bodies of creatures in there who I have hunted. Chimera, Basilisk, Manticore, I even have a full set of Hydra heads.” He chuckled, “I can tell you, they were a swine to have stuffed, but fortunately we have an excellent taxidermist on the staff.” He stretched his forelegs, “The pride of my collection is an ice dragon. Nasty damned thing it was too - thought it had me at one point, but you’d be surprised what a well honed blade can cut through when there’s enough power behind it.” Putting down his cigar, Maroc’s eyes flashed blue, making the thestral take a sudden step back in alarm. The Lord of the wendigo smiled, his teeth catching the firelight, “You know, Arc, I haven’t hunted for such a very long time. But there’s always room on the wall for one more.”

Arc swallowed, “You don’t frighten me.”

“Oh, I should Arc.” Maroc replied sipping his brandy, “I really should.”

Another thestral hurried in,

“Sir! A sky galleon has been sighted heading away from the fortress in full sail.”

Arc span round, glaring at Maroc, “You’ll be sorry for this, Maroc! Mark my words!”

“Try not to clatter too much on your way out will you?” the Lord replied casually, “My son’s trying to sleep, you know.”

The door slammed shut.

Maroc stared into his glass of brandy savoring the aroma. There was an electricity in the air this morning, along with a sense of mounting pressure. It was only subtle, barely more than a hint upon the wind, but it was there, and it worried him. He took a final draw on his cigar and let the smoke curl up around him. Maroc closed his eyes and sank back into his chair. Emotion…it was such a powerful force in the world, either for good or evil. He gazed out of the window at the thestrals flying off after the Wind Wraith, with Arc at their fore. He was the most emotional thestral he’d ever met, and one who wouldn’t hesititate to kill if his Goddess commanded it. Such blind loyalty, to such a creature. He shook his head and stubbed out his cigar. ‘Poor Arc’, he thought to himself sadly, if only he knew the truth. But then, who truly did?

*******************

“I say, whats going on? Are we moving?” Starswirl looked about himself in confusion, “Is this normal, Master Stock?”

The Ship’s Master glanced over his shoulder towards the steps,

“Starswirl…” he began.

“-I’m afraid I have a confession to make, Starswirl.” Cyclone cut in appearing like a Goddess send down the steps, and very much to Stock’s relief. She walked up to the two stallions and bowed, “We have set sail for Equestria, where the Princess is expecting your attendance.”

“What?!” the grey unicorns eyes flashed, “You can’t do this! My research!”

“We brought what we could,” Cyclone said calmly, “but we didn’t have much time I’m afraid.”

Starswirl was livid, “This is…this is intolerable! I demand you take me back this instance!”

“No.”

The wizard began to splutter as he opened his mouth to doubtless give a list of demands to the Captain, but paused, staring past her. Grille was poking her head down the hatchway,

“Cap’n, we’ve got company. A flight of thestral coming in from astern.”

Cyclone nodded, turning back to the wizard with a commanding look on her face,

“It appears your friends have appeared, Master Starswirl. Shall we hoof you over to them along with Chalky? I understand the thestrals have some unfinished business with him.”

Starswirl said nothing.

Cyclone snorted loudly, “Mister Grille, we shall beat to quarters.”

“Aye, aye Cap’n.”

Stock clopped Starswirl on the shoulder, “I’m sorry.”

The grey unicorn sighed and shook his head, “If you’d only asked me, I would have come anyway you know.” He looked into Stock’s eyes, “Leaving without a word to Maroc and Arathea was wrong, Stock. They have never done anything other than treat me with kindness and respect.”

The brown stallion nodded, “I know, but these are strange times my friend. When this madness is at an end, we’ll all go back and make amends.” He turned and hurried for the stairs, “Best stay down here for now though, just in case things get…interesting.”

Across the deck, the crew prepared the ship’s armament for battle while the drum thrummed through the deck in tune with the Wind Wraith’s excitement. Stock couldn’t help but feel a thrill run through him. The ship was all but quivering with the expectation of a fight and it was infecting the crew as well. She was built for this, not for trade. At her heart, the Wind Wraith was a warship and this…this was her true element.

Cyclone shout down to the helm,

“Mister Pepper, how the blistering hell are those lumbering things catching up to us?”

“We’ve lost the wind, Cap’n.” the odd coloured helmspony shouted back, “I’m doing all I can.”

The pegasus mare slammed her hoof on the balustrade, “Damn it!”

It was the mountains - the strange currents of air through here had always been unpredictable and to lose the wind now of all times! Cyclone stared at the heavy looking black shapes coming at them. Thestrals were usually slow and ungainly things in flight, and in actual fact she’d hardly ever seen them fly at all. They were nothing like a pegasus; nothing like she’d been - she could swept through them like the wind of death…

A voice called to her through the ancient vessel, caressing her heart and soul with its love,

Fly with me, my captain. Fly.

Images of unimaginable battles in the sky, of mighty dragons and ships on fire, of cries of terror and the shouts of the victorious filled her mind. This was the world of the sky galleon, the domain of the Amethyst Fleet…the home of the Wind Wraith. Cyclone smiled; finally…she understood. She grinned, reaching down and kissed the balustrade,

“Ready, my friend?”

Always.

“Mister Pepper!” Cyclone shouted down, drawing her sword, “Bring us about! We’ll rake the damned flying rats from stem to stern.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n!”

“Mister Dust, I hope that sword of yours is not just there for decoration.” Stock shouted as he checked the last of the ship’s crossbows were loaded.

The white unicorn raised an eyebrow, “We’ll soon see, won’t we? Here they come.”

Howling their war cries, the thestrals flew straight for the Wind Wraith, and straight into a barrage of heavy bolts. Chalk jumped in surprise at the loud ‘thwack’ as the first of the ships main armaments released its deadly payload. He watched as it flew, in almost slow motion, out across the expanse of open sky and slammed centre mass into one of the armoured thestrals. Before the stricken creature had even begun to fall, the crew were reloading, the metallic clanking of the ratchet setting his teeth on edge.

“Keep it up boys! Give em hell!” Stock bellowed.

Several more of the black creatures fell, but the remainder were closing in quickly despite Pepper’s efforts to maintain their distance. The first barrage of the bolts from the thestrals struck the ship, some hitting the mast, others the hull. Fortunately, the movement and the range made aiming extremely difficult and more down to sheer luck than anything else. Fortunately for the crew, few found their target with only a nicked ear to show for their enemies efforts; yet now, the armoured nightmarish creatures were all but on them.

Chalk rushed to the side, his magic glowing around his horn. His head still ached from where they’d thumped him, but he’d practiced this one so many times, all he needed to really do was concentrate, focus and…release…

A bolt of brilliant blue energy blasted out, engulfing his target in flame. The creature’s screams made his blood run cold, but his army training was beginning to take over now; he had a job to do, and friends to protect. Another blast of blue flame lashed out, joined by more bolts from lighter crossbows.

It was a storm the thestrals could not endure.

One of the crew suddenly shouted out excitedly, “They’re turning back! They’re giving up!”

They were. Cyclone watched in amazement as the mass of winged warriors faltered, breaking formation and then turned tail to head back towards the fortress. Dear Goddesses, was that it? Was it over? She felt a wave of relief wash through her, the shouts and cheers of the crew bringing a smile to her face. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a familiar grey unicorn peering up at her from the main deck, a look of confusion on his face. She waved him up to the quarterdeck.

“Is it over?” he asked.

Cyclone nodded, “Aye, it seems we gave them a bit more of a hiding than they were expecting.” She looked up at the sails, “I just wish we could catch the wind, we’re barely inching along.”

“Ah!” Starswirl said perking up suddenly, “I may be able to assist in that regard.” He looked about the deck, spotting Chalk, “Chalky! Come here would you please? There’s a good fellow.”

Several of the crew slapped Chalk’s rump good naturedly as he passed them. He didn’t recognise many, but there were a few familiar faces, and a few who gave him the distinct impression they would want to be a little more ‘familiar’ than that! He picked up speed and all but leaped up the steps to the quarterdeck where the grey coated wizard greeted him with his customary grin,

“Ah, excellent!” Starswirl gestured up to the sails, “Do the honours would you?”

Chalk looked confused, “Honours?”

“Wind, boy, wind!” Starswirl held his hooves up in exasperation, “What do you think I’ve been teaching you every day?”

Cyclone lifted a hoof, “What have you been teaching him?”

Starswirl shook his head, “Our young Chalk here has the makings of a wind mage, my dear Captain. He may be inexperienced, but he should be able to conjour up a little breeze.”

Chalk swallowed. He’d had some rudimentary instruction from Starswirl, but this was a bit different from blowing some snow off the roof! He looked at the deck below, at the crew all looking up towards him. Bloody hell fire! That blasted grey menace had really gotten him into a pickle now. Fine then! He’d give it his best shot and when it failed horribly, the bloody idiot would really…oh, what was the use…

Taking position in the centre of the quarterdeck, Chalk quietened his mind, reaching for his magic, for its familiar warm touch. He closed his eyes, feeling for the air currents around him as Starswirl had shown him. They were weak, but they were definitely there, he just had to encourage them closer, build them up and…

Nothing.

“Damn it!” Chalk shook his head and tried not to think of all the ponies watching him on the deck or the fact that another group of thestrals could be coming after them at any moment or…or Bracken, alone in that fortress, surrounded by…

“Shhh, listen…”

Chalk jumped in shock at the voice. Who the hell was that?! He looked round, received only puzzled looks from the others and an encouraging hoof wave from Starswirl. It was clear none of them had heard it other than himself. Great, now he was hearing things too! He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and plunged back in. Concentration, quiet, calm…Chalk cast his mind out, feeling for the breeze, listening for the…

“Listen…the winds of the world are singing. Can you hear their voice?”

Chalk shuddered, but kept his heart as calm as he could. The voice was gentle, warm and caring, and old…the Wind Wraith?

The voice chuckled, “You are known to me, and to my sister. She has told me of the love you share with her Captain.” A sense of enveloping love and protection ran through him. “You are welcome here.”

In his mind, Chalk called to her, “I can’t call the wind, it won’t listen to me.”

“It will.” The ship said softly, “You only have to listen for its song. Listen…”

The white unicorn listened. Somewhere, a long way off, he could hear…something.

A feeling of warmth and soft brushed his neck, sending tingles down his spine,

“Don’t push, don’t force, just listen, and enjoy the song. Let the world sing to you in her own voice.”

Chalk felt safe with her here, safe and…calm. Her voice was so kind, so motherly and…yes…he could hear it, it was barely on the edge of hearing, but…it was there - a wordless voice, an endless chorus of the winds, the life and movement of the world around them, singing its eternal song for any and all to hear. The song wrapped itself around Chalk completely, enveloping him, seeping through his fur, his pores, his veins, blood, muscle and bone. It was as much a part of him now as he was of it, and his magic called out in sheer exuberance with its majesty.

“Now, sing…”

Chalk could feel his heart lift, his magic flowing, pumping its energy through him like the blood in his veins. The song was all - it was in him, and he within it. He lifted his voice…and sang.

“Bloody hell, would you look at that!” Cyclone shouted, clamping her hat onto her head, “I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Starswirl shook his head, “I’ll admit, I didn’t quite expect this much progress so soon.” He scratched his beard, “Hmm, I must be a better teacher than I thought.” He nodded to himself, “One for the memoirs I think.”

Stock walked up beside Cyclone, peering at the statue like white unicorn,

“Is this meant to happen?”

Starswirl shrugged, “Who can say? There hasn’t been a wind mage in an age so far as I know. Useful fellow to have on board though.” He fished in his pannier and extracted a strange looking glass bowl and held it up to his eye before nodding to himself, “He’s fine.”

“He’s fine?” Stock shook his head, “Bugger magic.” He gave a snort and trotted off back to the main deck leaving Starswirl and the Captain to deal with the situation. He didn’t understand magic, and he sure as hell didn’t want to either. So long as Chalk was alright, that was what mattered; the last thing he wanted was having to explain to Gretel why her beloved ‘special somepony’ had blown every fuse in his head. For now at least, he put it out of his mind and threw himself into his work. Being busy was a decidedly more effective way of distracting you from more ‘involved’ thoughts.

Chalk however, was busy in his own way. The song of the world, the wonder of it all, was simply too beautiful for words. He felt like he could just fly away, releasing everything that held him anchored to his physical self: all his worries, all his cares, and become one with the winds around him. It would be so easy too, so, so easy.

“Chalky…” The ship breathed in his ear.

“Hmm?”

“Remember yourself.” She said softly, “The song can take you along like a leaf on a river and drown you in its being. You must be part of the song, not its master, not its slave, but one note amongst many others. You have the power to bring the song to you, to let the winds blow where you are, but you must always ask…never tell. Do you understand?”

Chalk nodded, “I do.”

“Come back now.” The ship said quietly, “The winds will stay until the song moves on.”

“Yes…” Chalk gave himself a shake. It was hard to let go, but not physically, just…he didn’t really want to. And then he thought of Gretel; her red coat shining in the sun, he thought of her big maroon eyes and her mane like a fall of gold on a summers day, he thought of her cutie mark, and her tail, the way it felt when it brushed against him. He smiled; he would be back soon…

Chalk opened his eyes and blinked in the sunlight. The wind was still billowing out the sails and the Wind Wraith was flying high above the clouds as swiftly as an arrow. He turned to Starswirl and smirked,

“Now that,” he said clopping the wizard on the shoulder as he walked past him, “Is what I’m talking about.”

Cyclone rolled her eyes. Stallions!

****************************

Guards snapped to attention, pulling their spears in tight as the group passed. The warriors in the black polished armour marching in step emanated a level of deadly professionalism that counterbalanced the almost ceremonial appearance of their dress. Four in front, four behind, the personal bodyguard of the one they would gladly, unthinkingly, die to protect. No introduction was necessary, given, nor asked. The door was pulled open and the Lord and Lady bowed and curtsied respectively,

“Your most Divine Majesty, we bid you welcome to our home.”

Maroc leaned forward and kissed the silver shod hoof held out to him. The Goddess’s face gave nothing away as she looked down her muzzle at him with her large eyes,

“Where is he?”

She didn’t have to explain who. Maroc felt a tinge of pity for the poor earth stallion, but what could he do? He did the only thing he could do, and stood aside, his head low and held out a hoof,

“This way your Divine Majesty, if you please.”

This was unusual. Normally she would be pumping him for information or making unrealistic demands for troops, or any other myriad of things as was her want. But today, she was focussed on a single point, and that point was…

“Bracken.”

The black stallion stood in the sunshine flooding through the conservatory windows. The way it picked out his fur made him appear to glow, as though a golden aura of light were surrounding him. Nightmare Moon stood silently, her gaze locked onto him, her mane and tail full and flowing with the magic of the world and rippling in the ethereal breeze. She blinked slowly and, almost imperceptibly, lowered her head, her voice deep and commanding,

“Get out, all of you. Leave us.”

Maroc bowed, backing out along with the others, “By your divine guidance.”

The doors closed with a solid thump that seemed to reverberate around the room in time with Nightmare Moon’s heart. She smiled. All things came in time…all things. She watched him standing there, so proud, yet so simple; a creature who she could not fully understand and yet on some different level, she could read him as easily as a foal’s story book. She gave her mane a shake and sighed,

“Bracken, come here and help me take this off.” She lowered her head, allowing the earth stallion to dutifully remove her helmet.

It felt good to be free of the thing. She felt more ‘herself’, and distinctly more feminine. The Goddess inhaled. She could smell Bracken before her, scent his nervousness, but also his excitement - that spicy undertone that made her heart quiver so. She lifted her head, allowing him to remove her breast armour, and smiled. Such a wonderful scent of stallion; how was it he managed to do this to her? She’d conducted many magical checks and tests upon herself to ensure there was no malady nor clandestine magics at play and all had proven to be clear. She’d even considered killing him, making the problem simply ‘disappear’. But now...even the thought of harming him, or any harm coming to him…she growled deep in her throat.

Bracken lifted a hoof, “Majesty, are you well?”

She snorted, lifting a foreleg for him to remove the silver cover, “Indeed, Bracken. I am, however, a little tired. It was a long flight here and the air is very cold in the mountains.”

Bracken nodded, removing another of the hoof covers,

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

A slender black leg reached out and a hoof ran tenderly down Bracken’s spine, making him quiver beneath its touch.

“Very cold indeed” the Princess of the night murmured. The last piece of armour came away and the Goddess turned to face the black stallion, her azure eyes wide and glinting in the full sunshine. “Do you like what you see?” she asked, lifting a hoof, “Tell me…honestly.”

Bracken nodded, “You are truly the most beautiful mare in Equestria, Your Majesty.”

She smiled, tapping him on the nose, “But we are not in Equestria, Bracken, not here.”

Bracken nodded, “The same still holds true.”

Nightmare Moon barked out a laugh and walked to the window, gazing out at the sun drenched mountains surrounding them. She clucked her tongue,

“I do not care much for sunshine,” she said offhoofedly, “the moon and stars are my domain. I live for dark skies, the wind in the trees, the rain upon the lake, the call of the vixen in the night.” She looked up and closed her eyes, “All these things I wish for all the ponies of Equestria to see and to feel, to truly understand the beauty of both the night and the day.”

Bracken said nothing.

“Tell me, what does your heart say Bracken?” The Goddess ran a hoof along his neck, smiling, “Tell me…”

Bracken felt his resolve falter under her touch. What was he supposed to say? He was afraid of her, terrified of her, and yet, whenever she was near, whenever she touched him…

“Majesty, must there be war? Does your sister not still hold love for you in her heart? Perhaps you could…”

“NO!” The dark coated mare slammed her hoof into the floor, cracking one of the tiles, “I will NOT! I…” she began to shake with anger, her mane billowing out around her, but…but maybe…she took a breath, lifting Bracken’s chin with her hoof, “Oh, Bracken, if only everything were so simple.”

“Does it need to be complicated?” he asked directly.

Nightmare Moon clucked her tongue, “You are still insolent!” she snapped, “If anypony else spoke to me in this manner then I should cut off their head and mount it on a pike outside my tent as a warning to others!” She stared down at him, “But you…” she placed her forelegs around his neck and pushed her muzzle into his mane with a quiet murmur, “You have enchanted me…”

Before he realised he was doing it, Bracken was stroking Nightmare Moon’s neck with his hoof, his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. She didn’t stop him, she didn’t want him to. The midnight mare, the Goddess of the night and the ruler of the dreamworld, pulled him into an embrace that took his breath away.

“Have you missed me” she whispered into his ear.

Bracken closed his eyes and took in her scent - the scent of lavender…he could feel himself melting away beneath her touch,

“Yes…I have.”

“Good.” She breathed, moving into him, “Show me how much.”

Time, like Brackens heart, drifted and floated away. All he was, all he had become, meant nothing when he was with her. Thought, sensation, even emotion itself seemed to blend into a heady mixture of warmth and closeness that was simply impossible to comprehend. Was it minutes, hours? He didn’t care, it didn’t matter, he just wanted to be with her. Every mere second was like an eternity of bliss.

*********************

Nightmare Moon, the Goddess of the night, lay beside the black stallion watching him sleep. He was so peaceful, so calm, it made her smile. Nopony could know, nopony could see, but she knew…she saw…she felt…

“You love him, don’t you.” The mare said. It wasn’t a question.

Nightmare Moon spoke quietly, “Luna…”

“You cannot deny it.” The Princess said gently, “I am you as much as you are me. I know your heart.”

“And why should I care what you think?” Nightmare Moon hissed, “Bracken is mine! Do not think you can…”

“-I have no intention of stealing him away from you.” Luna interrupted, “In a way, it would be like stealing him from myself.”

“Ha!” the Goddess snorted, “Don’t try your wordplay on me, Luna, I know your tricks better than you.”

“And I know your paranoia too, Nightmare Moon.” Luna replied sharply, “I know what you are capable of. I know what you did.”

The Goddess sneered, “You think I murdered the old mare, don’t you? That old whore who tried to steal him away from me?”

“Didn’t you?” Luna asked calmly, “You know how he felt about her.”

“One day! One cursed day and you think he had falled in love with her?” The black mare hissed, “If it wasn’t for my memory spell he would never have strayed from me, never!”

“Can you be so sure?” Luna asked quietly.

Nightmare Moon glared at her reflection in the window; that damned girl! She bared her teeth, “Yes…yes, I CAN!”

Luna’s gaze was unreadably, “Then prove it. Let him have his own mind, let him see you for who you really, are as he really is.”

“You just want to destroy me!” Nightmare Moon shrieked, “You want to cast me out just as your damnable sister wants!”

“No.” Luna said quietly, “No, I don’t want that. You know that too.”

The Goddess looked confused, “But…he…if I…”

Luna nodded her head slowly, embracing her other self, “I know. But if you don’t do this, you will never truly know if he loves you for who you are.”

“Pah! Stuff and nonsense.” Nightmare Moon scoffed, “I don’t need to do that, I know this stallions heart and he is as devoted to me as a servant of the Goddess of the night should be.”

“If that is what you truly believe…” Luna replied.

“IT IS!” Nightmare Moon bellowed, “Now leave me be!”

Bracken yawned, rubbing his eyes with his forelegs, “Majesty?”

The Goddess looked down and wrapped her forelegs around him protectively, “Shhh, don’t worry Bracken, it was nothing, nothing at all.” She looked back at the window, at the reflection that stared back at her. All she could see was herself, the midnight coated mare of the nightmare realm, and wrapped in her embrace, the stallion who had affected her so. She closed her eyes,

“Come, let us away to the bath. I am still weary from my journey.” She helped lift him to his hooves, “Attend to me.”

*********************

The bathhouse was as excellent as Bracken remembered; the water just as delicately scented and as wonderfully soothing as it had the first time he’d used it. He missed Chalk, but at least he was safe, and heading home to be with his ‘pirate piece’. He chuckled to himself.

“Something amuses you?”

Bracken closed his eyes and nodded, “My friend, Chalk. He was always getting himself into trouble.”

The Goddess snorted, “And pulling you into it too, I expect.”

“Aye.” Bracken leaned back and let himself float the way Neira had done. He missed her, he missed Pickles, but here, next to her, none of that seemed to really matter any more.

Nightmare Moon laughed out loud, “You look ludicrous like that!”

“It’s better for your hooves.” He said letting himself drift on the warm water, “Besides, don’t knock what you’ve never tried.”

“Earth pony wisdom?” the dark mare asked.

Bracken chuckled, “No. Bracken wisdom.”

The Goddess floated up alongside him, “You speak to me with such familiarity, young Bracken. Do you really think you know me? Do I, the Goddess of the night, not strike terror into your heart?”

That was a leading question. Bracken opened one eye and peered at her through the steam. She was watching him with such an intense expression; what did she really want from him? Did it really matter that much anyway? He turned over and looked her in the eyes,

“No. I don’t know you, not really, but who ever truly knows another? I know how I feel about you in my heart and I believe you know that too. If you doubted me, you would have had me executed long before now.”

“Perhaps I still shall!” the Goddess replied, “Does this not frighten you at all?” She moved to the steps and heaved herself out, heading for the towels.

“Not really.” Bracken said leaving the water after her, “If you have me killed, it won’t change what is or what was. The world will keep turning, the birds will still sing and the wind will still blow. I will simply return to the earth of Equestria and my body nourish the ground while my spirit goes to be with my ancestors.”

Nightmare Moon sighed as Bracken towelled her down, enjoying the feeling of the rough material against her fur. He was a little clumsy, but he was learning, and his grooming skills had come a long way since she’d first met him. She smiled to herself, letting him dry her in places no other pony would dare go for fear of her wrath. Did she really love him? Was Luna right? She closed her eyes…she had to know.

Bracken lifted the brush to take the tangles out of the Goddess’s mane when she suddenly reached out and took him by the shoulders, pushing him to his haunches. He looked back at her in surprise,

“Majesty?”

“Shush! Bracken, listen.” She shook her mane and gritted her teeth. Damn that Luna! She took a deep breath, “When you are with me, when I am near you, I…’influence’ you. I can’t…it just…” She squeezed her eyes shut a moment, trying to gather her thoughts, “The spell Celestia pulled from you blocked a lot of your memories of your time with me unless I was with you in the dreamworld, but it still aided me in finding you.” Bracken watched her intently as she continued, “But I fear that if I were to leave now, you would…forget me.”

The black stallion shook his head, “I don’t think so. Whenever I was with you, it all seemed so much like a wonderful dream; I suppose it was really!” He smiled, scratching his mane in embarrassment, “But here, being with you now, I can still remember how I felt when I first saw you.”

“Bracken.” Nightmare Moon said quietly, “I don’t know…”

He reached up and kissed her, “This is the reality,” his breath mingled with the mare’s as she moaned under his caress, “…Majesty.” Bracken wrapped his forelegs around her and felt her shiver beneath his touch, “I love you.”

In the pools reflection, Luna shook her head sadly, walking away as her image faded away with the ripples on the water.

Chapter Fifty Two - Carved Memories

CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

CARVED MEMORIES

Celestia rose from her throne and stretched. Her wings were stiff from sitting for too long and ached as she flexed her muscles before settling them back by her sides once more. Physically she was fine, but mentally, she was simply exhausted. The reports coming in had been encouraging of course, for the most part, but the inevitable final clash was undeniably close at hoof. The Legion, initially chasing their tails as their supply routes, stores and reinforcements were picked off by raids, had begun to re-organise. She had to respect their flexibility, they rarely stuck to one course of action and would adapt to new circumstances readily, but that in itself had caused them problems. Reports had arrived confirming the confused state of Legion units, the broken communications lines and uncertainty, but naturally, sooner or later, somepony was going to take charge of the situation. By all accounts, that was slowly but surely beginning to happen. Dray’s last report showed Nightmare Moon’s forces centralising their units to one point, massing no doubt in anticipation of a single final decisive battle against their enemy. Their target, without doubtl, would be the castle…and her.

Worst of all were the reports she’d had from further afield - from towns and hamlets across Equestria where the Legion had ‘reacted’ to attacks and…she’d had to put the report down. Nopony could ever see this…nopony…Celestia closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to push the mental images out of her mind. There would be a reckoning one day, a price to pay, and by the Gods they would pay for it.

The Princess levitated over a goblet of water and sipped it, trying to clear her mind, to put all those awful descriptions out of her head before she retired for the evening. The last thing she needed was nightmares, but that was all she seemed to be having lately, and she couldn’t blame Luna, or that ‘thing’ this time. She stroked the key that hung from the chain around her neck gently - it would soon be time. She just hoped that they…that she…would be strong enough when it arrived. Celestia’s thoughts were suddenly and rather rudely interrupted by the large doors to the throne room opening, followed by a defeaning barrage of confused and angry voices:

“I say! Get off me, you blasted ruffian!”

“I’ve told you already, you can’t go in there!”

“Will you get your hooves off me? I could turn you into a mouse if I wanted to!”

“Hold him down!”

“Ouch! Watch where you’re putting those bloody great…oof! Right! That does it! Hope you like cheese, you blasted…”

Golden light flared around the mass of struggling equines as the Princess’s voice boomed out around them,

“STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!”

Everypony pony froze, except for the guards who quickly bowed low to the glowing Princess of the sun. The white alicorn shook out her flowing rainbow mane and scrutinised the strange group of creatures who had barged into her throne room. One of them she recognised - Strata, the indigo coated unicorn, then there was another one, a grey unicorn stallion with a short white beard, a ridiculous hat covered in bells and a long blue cloak, similarly covered in the tinkling brass ornamentation, the whole finished off with embroidered stars and moons. Behind them, the court usher pushed past in a fluster, desperately trying to adjust his hat and tabard,

“Your Majesty!” He blurted out, bowing, “Please, I beg your forgiveness for this intolerable intrustion. I was leading these two here when I lost them and…”

“-It was because your tour was so intolerably boring.” The grey pony cut in.

The court ushers faced turned scarlet, “BORING?!” He shrieked, “I’m not a bloody tour guide!”

Celetia’s voice rolled out around them, “SILENCE!” She tried to hide the amusement in her voice, “Who are you?”

“I’m Strata, Your Majesty.”

“I know that!” Celestia rolled her eyes in exasperation, “I meant the other one!”

The grey pony bowed, sweeping his hat off his head in a flourish of magic,

“My lady, I am Starswirl the bearded, mage and wizard to the discerning and exemplar of mystical magics to the masses. My particular interests are in thaumaturgical re-emergence and conjunctive…Eep!”

Celestia’s forehooves grabbed him by the shoulders and bore him up so she was face to face with him,

“You…you are Starswirl the bearded?”

“Well…um…yes, actually.” He pointed to his beard, “Although I prefer just being called Starswirl if you don’t mind.”

Celestia glanced from the grey pony to Strata and then to the guards who were still bowing in the doorway,

“You may leave us.”

The doors closed.

“Starswirl…” Celestia closed her eyes, fighting back the tears, the sheer emotion of the moment. Her mother had spoken of this stallion, and Strata had mentioned a mage of great power too…this couldn’t be him could it? She look him up and down, shaking her head. He looked...well, comical really, eccentric even, but then, talent often came with a more ‘colourful’ side didn’t it?

“But…how?” She looked to his cohort, “Strata?”

The indigo unicorn shrugged, “He came in with the Wind Wraith, Your Majesty.”

“Indeed!” Starswirl said as Celestia lowered him back to the floor, “Would you like to hear my tale?”

Celestia laughed, clopping his hooves together,

“I would love to hear your story, but first, may I offer you refreshments?”

Starswirl and Strata both nodded and together, the three settled in to while away the evening, listening to Starswirl’s tale of adventures and hijinks which, if true, were both exciting and terrifying. The worst, and most exhilarating amongst them, was his adventure to what was quite obviously the lost Crystal Empire. Starswirl had been reluctant to talk about that one, but Strata had, rather thoughtfully, reminded him about it. Celestia’s heart had skipped a beat at that part of the tale. She remembered it all too well - that awful battle, the dreadful magics she’d used, the power that literally ripped an entire portion of the world away and locked it in another dimension forever. To hear it was still…’there’, it made her blood run cold. That monster, the name of whom she hadn’t heard mentioned, nor uttered for over a thousand years except as a story to frighten foals. She swallowed. It gave her shivers even thinking about it…Sombra. Those poor ponies, those lost souls, trapped with that ‘thing’. It was the stuff of nightmares, and many, many times she’d wondered if there’d been another way, a simpler and more direct way. But if there was, neither she nor Luna had known what it was.

Starswirl put down his cup, “…and naturally, I personally sent several of those hideous flying beasts crashing down into the chasm below before we finally arrived here Your Majesty.” He smiled, “Now, Strata tells me you have a portal I may be able to help you with?”

Celestia wings began to twitch, “Yes indeed. Please, Starswirl, Strata, would you kindly follow me?”

*************************

The streets were cold, freezing in fact. It had been a bloody stupid idea to come out without a cloak after all, and he’d left his gear back on board the Wind Wraith. He didn’t know what to do. Should he go back and get his things? He’d have to really, wouldn’t he, otherwise he’d have no money, no food and probably hypothermia just to round everything off nicely. Chalk snorted, tossing his mane and began heading back to the ship, groaning inwardly. After walking out on Gretel, he’d probably be barred from stepping hoof on the deck of one of her ships ever again. Not that he really wanted to. After all, she’d made it pretty clear she didn’t really…He neighed and picked up speed. He didn’t want to think about it!

The crew let him come aboard without a fuss. Maybe they didn’t know yet, or maybe nopony really cared. He’d been walking for ages and the hard cobbles had been making his legs ache, but still, it had only been a few hours. Maybe that was why his heart hurt so much too, ‘maybe’…He should use that as a metaphor for his life, shouldn’t he…’maybe’. With a snort, Chalk wandered down to the bunk he’d been using and gathered his things; at least they were still there, and hadn’t been thrown out or bartered away yet - even his sword was still there. He closed his eyes against a sudden wave of anguish that threatened to drown him in its bitter embrace. Chalk sighed; what a fool he’d been to think that he could actually make a difference, that somehow, somewhere, there was somepony in this world who actually needed him and that he was something more than just an insignificant nopony that girls only wanted to fool around with. After all, that was all he was, wasn’t it? A plaything…a toy. He used to think that Bracken was jealous of him because he got all the girls…all the ones who would throw themselves at him because of how he looked. What an idiot! It was all a laugh wasn’t it? All of it. Nopony gave a damn, he was just picked up, used, and then dropped when the novelty had worn off. Bracken had found something he never could: that special somepony who would love you unconditionally, who would be with you always because they loved you for who you were, not what you were. Chalk brushed a tear away as he pulled his cloaked over himself. He blew everything, didn’t he? Everything…

Up on deck, only the ship’s watch were up and bid him good night. He nodded to them, glancing for a moment at the closed cabin door of the Captain’s quarters. She’d be back on the Revenge now anyway, having a good time with her friends and forgetting all about the stupid white coated idiot. He paused,

“Hey lads, know any cheap taverns in town?”

A golden coated patchwork stallion shouted over, “Aye, the Four Horse Shoes. Head for the fountain and take a right. Its about fifty yards up on the left.”

Chalk smiled, “Thanks. Night boys.”

“G’night”

Back on those bloody cobbles once again, Chalk’s legs ached all the way to the surprisingly neat little tavern with the flower boxes outside. Several patrons were stood in the shelter of the awning, buttoning up cloaks or capes and bid him good evening before walking off into the night. Inside, the landlord was helping the barmares tidy up,

“Sorry sir,” one the mares said noticing him coming in, “we’re closing for the night.”

“Oh, sorry. I was just looking for a room for the night.” Chalk turned to go.

The landlord trotted up to him, “A room? I think we have one left.” He called to one of the mares, “Tiptree, don’t we have a spare room available?”

“Number six is free.” The violet mare called back, “Four bits for the night, two extra for breakfast.”

Chalk nodded, “Thanks, I’ll take it.”

“Excellent.” The landlord, wiped his hooves on his apron, “Tiptree will see you up.”

As was typical of the capital, the room was tidy and well appointed, if a little basic. It was no fortress of the four winds, that was for sure. No hot water, no running water, no toilet, but at least there was a clean bed, pitcher and a bowl.

“Bog’s along the landin’, love.” The mare said, pocketing the tip with a grin, “And, y’know if you erm, need anythin’ else?” she leaned against the door frame and raised an eyebrow. Chalk put down his bags and shook his head,

“Thanks, but I just want to sleep.”

“Huh!” the barmare slammed the door shut and flounced off back down the stairs.

Chalk slumped onto the bed, staring out of the window. The stars and moon were mostly hidden by the surrounding tall buildings, with the only light coming from the lone oil lamp beside the bed. He watched the single flame as it burned quietly away, occasionally flickering ever so slightly in some unseen breeze, seemingly echoing the solitude he felt inside,

“Just you and me eh?” he said quietly and piled up the last of his belongings. Perhaps tomorrow he’d go back and inform the army about his return - he should do. he’d completed his mission after all. Dray would probably discharge him, but what then? Could he go home, back to his parents and just simply forget everything that had happened? He’d think about it in the morning. With a sigh, he slipped under the covers and closed his eyes, trying to empty his mind.

He’d just started to drop off when there was a hammering noise outside and then a crash from downstairs together with a barrage of shouting. Chalks eye’s flew open. Was it the army? Damn it! He knew he should have reported back straight away! The bloody provost were here! He reached down for his sword and paused. They weren’t his enemy, but…but what if they were? What if it wasn’t the provost, what it were…

The door to his room flew open, a huge black shape outlined in the light from the lamp behing held up behind it.

“Listen to me!” The Landlord pleaded, “I said you can’t just barge in here! This is a private room and no guests are allowed after…”

“How much?”

The landlord blinked, “What?”

“I said, how much is this flea ridden cess pit worth?”

“I beg your pardon?”

The large shape turned round to the Landlord and threw a heavy sounding bag of bits at him,

“Here, I’ll buy it off you, so shut up and sod off.”

The Landlord cleared his throat, “I…that is…yes..come on girls, lets leave them alone…”

The voices trailed away and the door was shut with a heavy thump. Chalk felt his hoof catch the corner of his sword; at least he knew where it was if he…

Hoofsteps came closer to the bed as the shadowy figure approached. Carefully, whoever it was, lowered themselves onto the end of the bed and sighed,

“Are you going to use that?”

Chalk closed his eyes, his voice a bare whisper, “Of course not.”

“You hurt me, you know.” The dark shape leaned across and turned up the lantern, “You just ran off and left me.”

Chalk could feel his eyes stinging and tried to compose himself, “I know. But it’s better this way.”

“Is it? Why?”

“You don’t need me, Gretel, you are a ship’s Captain, a commander of ponies, you can have anypony you want. I’m just a…a nopony.”

There was a pause, “I never thought I’d hear you feeling sorry for yourself.”

“You don’t know everything about me.” He said quietly, “If you did, you wouldn’t be here now.”

“You mean about what happened when you were a foal?” She asked

“How did…?”

“You talk in your sleep.”

“I…oh…”

Gretel took a deep breath, “Look, Chalky, I didn’t give you an answer before.”

“You didn’t have to.” Chalk replied softly, “I know.”

“No, you don’t! That’s just the point!” Gretel snapped suddenly, “You just appeared out of nowhere, said…said ‘that’ and you expected me to be able to give you a decision just like that?!”

Chalk closed his eyes, “The look on your face…”

“You frightened me!” Gretel said raising her voice, “Don’t you understand that? Chalky, you’re the only pony I’ve ever…I’ve…damn it!” she clambered over the covers and pinned him down, fixing him with her big maroon eyes, “I love you, you bloody stupid horses cock, can’t you see that? Or do you need bloody glasses?” Chalk closed his eyes, his emotions threatening to bubble over. All he could manage was a nod, but Gretel wasn’t finished with him yet, “You told me you knew how I felt, didn’t you?” she said.

He nodded again.

“Do you doubt that now?”

Chalk shook his head, “No. Gretel, look, I’ve been away for a long time, I abandoned you, and…”

A hoof was shoved into his muzzle.

“If I hear another word of self doubt or you putting yourself down again, I will be seriously angry with you Mister Chalk. I mean it, seriously angry. That’s not the stallion I love, the one I love is bright, energetic and full of life.” She reached down and kissed him, “But I know this is a part of you too, and your past, like mine, is something that neither of us can ever change.” She stroked his mane gently, brushing her lips against his, “It doesn’t have to control who you are” she murmured, “not my Chalky…” she kissed him on the muzzle, “Not my husband.”

As Gretel’s words gradually sank in, Chalk squeezed his eyes shut and tried to reach up to her, to take her in his embrace, but she was squashing him into the mattress.

“Oh!” she suddenly realised with a chuckle, “Just a minute…”

The big red mare rolled off the bed. Moments later, Chalk felt the mattress move and the covers lift as something warm and soft pressed into him,

“That’s better.” she chuckled, “Well?”

“Mmm”

“Mmm?” Gretel echoed.

Chalk tried to clear his throat, “I…erm…yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“I don’t know!” Chalk squeaked turning to face her, “I just…I…I don’t know what to say!”

Gretel shook her head and bopped his nose with her hoof,

“Then tell me how you feel, that’s a good start.”

“I…I love you.” Chalk whispered, feeling a suddenly rush of embarrassment.

“And I love you.” Gretel nodded with a smile, “Now, what do you want to do?”

Chalk looked into her eyes, “I want to marry you.”

The Captain kissed him on the muzzle, “And I want to marry you too.”

“You do?”

“Mmhmm” Gretel snuggled into him, reached up and nibbled his ear, “Did you know that Cyclone’s pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“You do remember how foals are made, don’t you?” she asked quietly.

“Of course, I do. Gretel, I...Mmm” Chalk groaned as a wave of warmth from his ear spread through him, making him shiver.

Gretel ran her hoof down his chest, “I do, and it’s been a very, very long time Mister Chalk.” Her scent tickled Chalk’s nose as she moved against him. “The way I see it,” she purred, “you have a lot of time to make up for.” Gretel suddenly leaned over him and blew out the lamp, “…Safety first…”

*******************************

“Remarkable, simply remarkable!” the grey stallion rushed around the stone room, setting up pieces of equipment and making notes, somehow, all at the same time. “I’ve never seen a complete one before, well, there was that one at Manewaring Hills but that was long dead, and perhaps that one in the forest too, but it was like the magic in them had been sucked out of them like a deflated balloon!” Starswirl waved his hooves to emphasise his words, much to Celestia’s amusement. “I mean, there was that one in the fortress of course, but that was different to this! That one was what I’d like to call a ‘direct access portal’.” He paused, “Yes, I like that. You can never have too many acronyms I always say.” He wrote it down in his notebook, “D.A.P. great!” Carrying on around the room, Strata passed him equipment somehow without even needing to ask what the bizarre grey unicorn needed next. “A shame we don’t have that young black stallion with the blue hair with us. Remarkable creature, and an earth pony would you believe? Could actually see ley energy!”

“He could?” Strata asked in surprise.

“Didn’t I mention it?” Starswirl shrugged, “I thought I did?”

“You said you opened the portal on your own.”

“Oh, tish, tosh! Of course, he helped a little, but I did all the fundamental and thaumaturgical work. He just sort of…tweaked bits.”

Celestia shook her head, “Where is this earth pony?”

“Hmm?” the mage looked up from making more notes, “Oh, he stayed behind at the fortress with the wendigo.”

The Princess’s eyes went wide, “Why?”

“Buggered if I know!” Starswirl said trotting up to the large stone archway, “Best ask young Chalk Dust. Fascinating unicorn that, and a wind mage would you believe. Not only that, but here we have a descendant of the shipwrights of the Crystal Empire too! I’m going to need a lot more time, and a lot more notepads!”

Celestia shook her head and smiled to herself. With these two, surely they would be able to re-open the portal to the human world and finally, finally, bring Rush home. Starswirl seemed a little bizarre though, that outrageous outfit he wore was certainly testimony to that, but then so was Strata in some respects. In an odd way, they raised her spirits - not simply because of their work to try and activate the portal, but simply their lighthearted outlook on life. How she wished she could feel that way herself! But until this terrible war was brought to an end, it was unlikely she could ever truly find the happiness within her own heart. The Princess gazed up at the large stone archway, a wistful gaze on her face. In some respects she’d left her heart on another world, with one whom she may never see again…

Celestia jumped back in shock as a bright purple flash seared the room followed by a deafening ‘pop’, making the her ears shriek in response. Starswirl and Strata were lying on their sides, smoke wafting from their singed fur. Strata coughed,

“I don’t think that worked out too well.”

“I said we had the convertor matrix set too high.” Starswirl brushed the burnt fur from his muzzle, “Pretty good result though, I have to say.”

Celestia gave herself a shake, her nose wrinkling at the acrid smell of burnt hair, “Pretty good?”

“Oh yes!” Starswirl chirped, “Theres life in the old girl yet!”

Good Gods! If that was ‘pretty good’, Celestia though to herself, she’d hate to see what happened when something ‘bad’ happened. She gave herself a shake and walked over to get herself a drink of water,

“Master Starswirl, if you need anything, please feel free to use the castle library. If there are any specific books you need that aren’t there, ask me. I may be able to acquire it for you.”

“Really? Wonderful!” Starswirl’s eyes lit up, “I’ll have a list made up shortly.”

“Oh.” Celestia’s face dropped, “Er, don’t worry, just pass your list to the guard outside and he’ll ask the staff to collect them.”

Strata and Starswirl both nodded and returned to their work.

“I’ll just be going then.” The Princess said quietly, backing towards the door.

“Mmhmm.” Starswirl nodded to Strata, “What do you think about altering the ley-flux capacitor?”

The door closed with a click.

Celestia sighed. What a pair! She gave her legs a stretch and nodded to the guard who snapped to attention,

“See to it they get everything they need.”

The guard nodded smartly, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She gave him a smile, watching out of the corner of her eye as he blushed. Celestia felt a ripple of excitement run through her; she was a mare in her prime, and took very good care of her appearance - not only for official reasons of course, but for her own too. She wanted to look her best for when Rush walked through that portal and saw her. A sudden thrill ran down her spine making her buck slightly. Fortunately, a quick check revealed nopony around, much to her relief, and she gave a slightly embarrassed whinny before breaking into a run as she charged off along the corridor and up the stairs. It wouldn’t be long now…it wouldn’t be long!

Rooms went by in a blur; corners, stairs, windows, doors, all of it as insubstantial as mist in the morning sun. The Princess felt like singing, shouting in joy and sheer exuberance. For the first time in an age, there was hope…Hope! She just wanted to run and run, imagining a dark brown stallion beside her, the two of them running free across the meadows and the hillsides, drinking from the clear waters of streams and lying together in the long grass. She would gaze into his eyes as he brushed her mane, the two of them drawing closer and closer, until…

She nickered loudly and collapsed against one of the tapestries, panting. She hadn’t felt like this is so long! And now here she was, the ruler of Equestria acting like a school foal. She chuckled, leaning against the ancient needlework. It was one of the ones she’d never really understood when she was younger, but now it was all too apparent. It was a depiction of a mare and a stallion, bowing before a golden alicorn who was holding a pair of equally golden scales. In all things, mother had told her, there should be balance. The day should have the night, the sun the moon, and she should have her stallion. Perhaps it was a little melancholy to think of such things as this now, after all, the country had never been so divided, and yet…she didn’t care…she just didn’t care! For once, she just wanted to feel joy, even if it was only fleeting and insubstantial. Starswirl and Strata could fail, her hopes falling upon land as fertile as rock and scorched sand, but for now…now she was happy.

The guards snapped to attention when they saw her approaching and apparently noticed the lightness in her step. Celestia gave them both a pleasant smile and returned the looks she received with a wink. It was a good end to a good day - a day with hope, a day with…

She stared at the peach coloured mare sitting by the fire dressed in a maids uniform. There was something…‘off’ about the girl, something that smelt like…Luna. Celestia had seen this mare about the castle she was sure, but what was this? There was no sense of magic here, no wards had been broken, but the girl had a distant look in her eyes that she didn’t like.

The Princess smiled pleasantly, “Hello, I don’t believe I know you. Are you new?”

The young mare’s eyes kept their vacant gaze, but her voice…that creatures voice, emerged as a viper from its nest.

“Good evening, ‘Sister’.”

Celestia glowered at the mare, reminding herself that this living being was not the owner of the voice, nor the cunning intelligence behind it. She kept her voice neutral,

“You have some audacity to send your servant into my bed chamber, Nightmare Moon.”

“Have I?” the voice replied, “There was a time when we played together, as sisters do, Celestia. Have you forgotten so readily? Am I now so forgotten in your heart as to be unwelcome in our own home?”

The white alicorn snorted, “Do not speak as though you know me, demon, you are not my sister. Let me speak to her.”

“As you wish.”

A gentler, more familiar voice replaced the first, “Tia?”

“Luna?” Celestia’s heart skipped a beat, “Is that really you? Or is that monster trying to fool me again?”

“No, sister, it is I.”

The Princess shook her mane, trying to control her surging emotions, “I won’t ask why that ‘thing’ sent this child in here, although I suspect I shall be finding out all too soon. I would, however, prefer to hear it from you.”

There was a pause before Luna spoke once more,

“Tia, the world is broken. Nightmare Moon and I wish only to restore the balance and bring all our peoples together as they once were. Is this so wrong?”

Celestia’s eyes narrowed, “Killing our people and bathing in the blood of innocents to achieve your goals is your way of achieving balance, is it?” She shook her mane irritably, “No…it’s not is it? It’s that damnable monster that infests your heart and soul: the demon I should have purged from you when it first appeared.”

“You don’t understand, do you?” Luna said helplessly, “You have never felt true love sister. You…”

Celestia’s rage peaked, “What do you know about me? NOTHING!” she began to feel her temper flaring, her joyous mood from earlier evaporating in the horrible reality of what her sister had done, and what she had become. She took a deep breath, releasing her grip on her magic and hung her head, “Luna…please, come home…”

“I can’t…” the voice sounded strained, “You know why.”

“I don’t know why!” Celestia cried out, “That monster that lives in the mountains has a wife, Luna, he’s married! Your obsession with it has warped your mind and your soul. Your love can…”

“You don’t know anything about me, Tia!” Luna shouted, “You never listen! You never even heard me until…until it was too late. I can’t simply turn back time and change things to suit your ego.”

“My ego” the Princess of the sun said darkly, “You talk of my ego? You are the one who threw her soul into the abyss when you…”

“ENOUGH OF THIS!” Nightmare Moon’s voice boomed through the room, “Celestia, I will not allow you to hurt Luna any more. Your days of tyranny will soon be at an end and the people of this land will see the true beauty of the night, and all our peoples shall be as one beneath the moon!” Celestia stared at the peach coated mare, building her magic, readying a shield. “I have come to tell you one thing, Celestia.” The mare smiled, “I am coming. Ready your defences, prepare your troops and steel your heart. I am coming.”

Celestia smiled, “I am waiting for you demon. Bring all your dark hell spawned vermin with you - I shall send them into the fires of Tartarus along with all your vile kind.”

The room filled with Nightmare Moons echoing laugh, “We shall see…’Sister’…we shall see.”

The peach mare blinked, her eyes losing the blankness and stared straight up at Celestia in shock. The Princess smiled at her, a moment before the mare let out a deafening scream and fell to the floor in a heap.

The doors flew open.

“Your Majesty!” the guards swept into the room, one of them stopping to check on the peach mare, “Is she…?”

“No, she’s unconscious.” Celestia shook her head slowly, “Did you see her come in here?”

The guard looked at his colleague who shook his head too, “No, Your Majesty.”

She wasn’t surprised.

“Have her sent to the surgeons office and looked after. Keep her under guard and never let her out of your sight.”

The guards saluted and left. As the door closed, Celestia let out the breath she’d been holding in and walked over to the book case. It was still there, that most precious thing, that memory of a love she still clung to with all the hope she had left within her. It was something Nightmare Moon could never take from her. Never. She snorted loudly; how in Equestria was she supposed to sleep now? Wrapping herself in her quilt, she slid into bed and took the box with her, placing it next to her on the other pillow. Silently, she kissed it, and gazed at the carvings inscribed on its surface. It was so precious, so fragile, and was all she had left of him other than her memories. She closed her eyes,

“Don’t forget me.” She whispered, “Please.”

Morning came, the sun rising above the hills and bathing the castle in sunlight. Snow had begun to fall, late this year, but still as beautiful as it had ever been, as it had been in the bamboo forest all those months ago. Celestia sighed, sipping her tea and listened to the heavy hoofsteps of the General as he approached. He bowed and waited for her to speak.

“They’re on the move, aren’t they.” She said quietly.

Dray nodded, “Aye.” He scrubbed his mane, “We’d better be ready, Your Majesty.”

“I expect we shall soon see if our friends come through for us then shan’t we.” The Princess said quietly, “They can be such fickle creatures, dragons.”

“The griffins too, Your Majesty.” Dray replied.

“Griffins are mercenaries General,” Celestia said with a shrug, “gold is their only loyalty.”

The grey stallion nodded, “But good fighters nonetheless.”

“Victory at any cost” Celestia murmured, “So long as it doesn’t bankrupt us, General, perhaps the thestral’s own motto applies to us also.”

Dray grimaced. She was right, and he wished she wasn’t. He took out a scroll from his pack and passed it to her, “The Yaks and Llamalians are yet to respond.”

The Princess read the messages and sighed, “Do you think they will?”

“No.” The grey stallion said honestly, “I think they will wait until one side triumphs over the other and then hit us, hoping to snatch Equestria from the weakened victors with minimal effort.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow, “A gut feeling?”

Dray shook his head, “History is a good teacher.”

It was. The yaks and llama’s had been killing each other in droves for generations, to the point where the Equestrians even began to wonder if there were any of the foolish creatures still left in the world. Nopony knew what had started the conflict, and in all likelihood they were so used to it, they no longer cared anyway. Yaks hated llama’s and llama’s hated yaks, it was almost like some perverted natural order in the world. Still, it was worth bearing in mind Dray’s concerns in case what he feared was borne out. Sooner or later, one side or the other would gain a decisive advantage over the other, and with the resources Equestria had to offer, bondage, be it from Nightmare Moon and the Legion, or from one of the warring foreign nations, was still bondage regardless of who held the lash. She would think more on this later.

“Your thoughts, General?” She asked.

Dray nodded, “The way I see it, we have few choices. The castle will be the enemy’s primary target, I have no doubt about that. We can continue to harry them, weakening their numbers and their resolve as we have been, or engage their main force on a ground of our choosing and on our terms.”

“I will be frank, Dray.” The Princess said levelly, “Do you think our forces can prevail?”

He looked up at her, “As our forces stand now? If we pulled everypony in, If we prepared adequate defences, had all our allies and could fight the way we need to be able to, then yes. Yes I do.”

“Contingencies?”

“I don’t think we can have any.” Dray said coolly, “If we are to have any chance at all of winning, we have to hit them and hit them hard, then keep on hitting them until they are completely destroyed.” He raised an eyebrow, “I have to ask, I take it negotiations are no longer an option?”

Celestia shook her head sadly, “No. Not now.”

Dray nodded, “If we are to have a chance, then it must be here.” He tapped a place on his map, “At River Valley.”

The Princess stared at the innocuous name of the scroll, “Why?”

“The terrain, the fact that our veterans will want to avenge their fallen comrades there, and that is was the site of our first victory - of sorts.” He gave the Princess a meaningful look, “The enemy leader will most likely be there for similar reasons.”

Celestia snorted, “Oh, she will be. She intends this to be the final blow that will destroy me, General, and take the crown of Equestria. For my part, I intend to bring an end to this diabolical farce, and rid our home of this scourge once and for all.” She tossed her mane, sending the beautiful rainbow colours dancing, “You are my General, Dray. We are all in your hooves.”

“Then our course if clear,” the grey stallion replied settling back on his haunches, “we meet them at River Valley.” He slammed his hoof onto the map, his face set in a grimace of determination, “And we will annihilate them.”

Chapter Fifty Three - Grass Before Breakfast

CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

GRASS BEFORE BREAKFAST

Steam rose from the windows of the large wooden structure. It had been built in the style of the thestrals homeland: a long, low building made of logs in a seemingly random and haphazard manner. For some, it looked like little more than as if a giant creature had just dropped a mass of logs in one place and simply flown away. Like the race that created it, appearances could often be deceptive.

Bracken lay back in the hot water of the bath house, his eyes half closed in contentment. The world had moved on and he along with it, the loss he’d felt for Neira and Pickles a faint whisper of memory from what seemed like a different age, a different ‘him’. He smiled to himself and stretched lagurously in the water. Soon, the war would be over, peace would be restored, and it would be time to settle down with his beautiful mare.

A midnight coated muzzle appeared above him, a pair of large azure eyes twinkling in the lantern light,

“How is the water today, my Bracken?”

He sighed happily, “Perfect Your Majesty, like you.”

Nightmare Moon smiled, slipping off her robe and sinking into the water beside the black stallion. She let out a low groan, closing her eyes as the hot water soaked into her fur. This was a simple pleasure for her, but one she enjoyed immensely. To share it with her stallion added a little extra spice to the experience that made her spirits lift. She moved in next to him, folding her wings so she could nudge up that little bit closer. The Goddess had begun to wonder when this change had come over her, when her heart had started to…feel. It was something she had never believed could have happened when she first joined with the alicorn, that simple merging of her spirit with Luna’s body to become who she was today. Luna was little more than a child of course, a child who wanted the unobtainable, and deep down she knew it herself. Did she regret what she had done? Maybe…Nightmare Moon couldn’t read all of Luna’s thoughts, but she knew enough. Sooner or later, the two would truly become one, as water soaks into the earth, what she was, would simply become part of the greater whole. She was the Goddess, the one who controls the world of dreams and the night, sheer perfection incarnate. The best part of it though, was that Bracken knew it too, and he would make a fine father some day. The possibility made her shudder with anticipation.

“You’re shivering.” He said, raising an eyebrow.

“Me? No.” Nightmare Moon laughed, “No…I am…excited.”

“Excited?”

“I don’t need to explain everything to you, do I?” she said.

Bracken smiled knowingly, “Of course not.”

The Goddess sighed, shaking her head. Nopony else would dare to speak to her in such a manner, none that wished to keep their head attached of course, but with Bracken it had just…happened. She stared up at the steam, clearing her mind and let her thoughts drift away into nothingness. In some ways the steam reminded her of the ‘other’ world, the realm where nothing was solid, nothing could touch you, nor be touched. It was a place without sensation, where there was no fear, no joy, no pain, no love, nothing…simply…nothing. She didn’t want to go back there - she couldn’t, not now. The Goddess opened one eye; he was watching her again with those fathomless grey eyes, so full of love for her. For a moment, just a moment, she wondered if she could not just throw everything to the winds and simply run away with him, to live a happy life with this earth stallion. But of course, reality was far removed from such fantasies. Celestia would never let such a thing be - she wanted Nightmare Moon vanquished, she wanted Luna back as the foolish, powerless puppet she had always been. She sneered; that damned white witch! She’d never treated her sister as an equal, she’d always treated her as…

Bracken was leaving the pool.

“Would you like me to help you dry when you’re ready, Majesty?” he said looking back at her.

Nightmare Moon peered up at him, her eyes going wide. When…? She blinked. Of course, it was obvious when you thought about it, and yet still… Was she really affecting him that much? Her chest felt like somepony were squeezing it all of a sudden and she gasped back a cry.

“Majesty!”

Bracken plunged back into the pool, hooking his forelegs under her and pulling her out and onto the dry wooden floor where she lay gasping and sobbing. Bracken was distraught - what was happening? Was she alright? He had to get her some fresh air, the steam in here could be affecting her breathing. Carefully, he lifted her and carried her to the drying area and threw open the window shutters allowing the cooling evening breeze to waft in.

“I’ll fetch the doctor, Majesty.” he said urgently, “I won’t be long, I promise.”

“No…” A hoof reached out and caught him, “Bracken…no…” the mare looked up at him, her eyes pleading. She didn’t want him to leave - not now, not…not…she grabbed him and pulled him into an embrace,

“Hold me. Bracken, please, just…hold me.”

The black stallion looked worried, frightened almost. He wanted to run for help, but wanted to stay with her and hold her, but… He sighed, sinking down beside Nightmare Moon and wrapped a towel around her, pulling her into his chest,

“You’ll catch cold.” He said smiling at the dark mare, and leaned her head against his warm fur.

The Goddess squeezed her eyes shut against the flood of strange feelings, these ‘emotions’ that were surging through her body, pulling her this way and that, making her feel as though she were losing her mind…her ‘self’. Suddenly, she opened her eyes, looking down. What was this? What…? Water was coming from her eyes, droplets leaking out and… She let out a cry of grief, grabbing hold of the black stallion and holding him tightly, pulling herself into him. She couldn’t let him go, she’d never let him go, not as long as she drew breath and there was a moon in the sky.

He kissed her forehead and just…held her.

*********************************

Nightmare Moon awoke with a start. Where was she? How? Blinking her eyes, she focussed on her surroundings; the lamps, the brazier burning low, the maid placing the pitcher of water onto the beside table, the black stallion with the blue mane nodding his thanks to her as she left. The Goddess smiled.

Noticing she was awake, Braceken trotted over to her,

“Are you awake Majesty?”

Nightmare Moon, the dark Goddess of the night, watched him with her large azure eyes and smiled,

“I am, however I don’t remember returning to our lodge.”

“I carried you back.” Bracken said simply, pouring her a goblet of wine, “You fell asleep.”

“You…you carried me?!” the Goddess gasped in shock.

Bracken lifted a hoof, “Don’t worry, nopony saw us.” He shrugged, “I covered you in towels so they couldn’t see.”

“You…you did WHAT?!”

The black stallion smiled, passing her the goblet, “You looked so peaceful, but I couldn’t leave you in there like that. I can take better care of you here.”

“Ha!” the Goddess snorted, “I don’t need looking after. I am no invalid, child.”

Bracken raised an eyebrow, “No, but is it wrong for me to care?”

“You are infuriating.” She huffed, looking away haughtily.

“I try” he laughed.

The Princess shook her head in resignation and floated over the goblet in her magic - it was…water. For a moment she felt a flash of anger, that this stallion would have the audacity to do such a thing without her consent, but… She sighed; he’d done it out of concern for her, hadn’t he? He was making her soft, and softness could be the death of her, and him. She gave herself a shake, downing the water and slammed it back down. Bracken was a weakness, a chink in her armour and one that cunning old witch knew about, at least to some degree. Nightmare Moon looked the stallion up and down, nodding to herself.

Bracken looked back at her with concern written all over his face, “Majesty?”

The Goddess gazed into the low burning brazier, watching its coals glow comfortingly as she spoke,

“Celestia knows you are with the Legion. No doubt her little trouble makers in their magical flying boat will have been flapping their mouths, and although I doubt she knows exactly in what ‘capacity’ you serve, she will target you.”

“Target me?” Bracken asked, his ears pricking up, “I am nothing to her.”

Nightmare Moon let out a breath, “Oh, Bracken, how wonderfully naïve you are my stallion. I fear that Celestia knows of your importance to me and will do all in her power to take you away from me.”

“That will never happen” Bracken snorted, “Let her try.”

“No!” The Princess of the night stomped a hoof, “I cannot risk that! I cannot…” She paused, collecting her thoughts, “You don’t know her the way I do, Bracken. She is incredibly jealous and would never entertain even the possibility of my having something she does not - even if that something is not…’tangible’.” She closed her eyes, “I must…hide you.”

“What? Where? How?” Bracken asked in surprised.

“Questions, questions, questions!” the Goddess snapped, “I do not need to explain my every thought and reason to you, just…” She scrubbed her mane; sometimes this aggravating stallion made her want to throttle the life out of him! Still, she would have to tell him sooner or later and the clumsy oaf hadn’t even notice himself yet.

“Look at you flank.” She said levelly.

Bracken furrowed his brow, but did as she said. What he saw made his heart skip a beat,

“What about…oh…oh my Goddess! My cutie mark!”

Nightmare Moon rose from her seat and walked over to him, “I told you that staying near me could…affect you.”

Bracken stared in horror at where his mark had been, the small sprig of foliage that had been his namesake since he was a foal - it was who he was, it was a pony’s soul! Now, it was…changed. A simple white lightning flash sat in its place, repeated, as he expected, on his other flank. He nearly choked,

“It’s gone! It’s…it’s changed! It’s…”

Nightmare Moon nodded slowly, “It is the mark of the Wither World. Even though you are a child of the moon, I did not think that it would affect you to this degree.”

“But…it’s a part of me!” Bracken gasped in horrror, pawing at the new mark, “It’s who I am!”

The Goddess watched him with her timeless eyes and smiled sadly, “’It’s who you are’” she echoed. Her voice rose, “’Who’ you are is on the inside, Bracken, and that is not something dictated by a picture on your backside.” She snorted, “Ponies put too much stock in such things.”

“Its more than just a picture!” Bracken tried to explain, his voice cracking with barely restrained panic, “It’s tied to our destiny, to our special talents.”

“And what is your special talent, Bracken? What is your destiny? Hmm?” Nightmare Moon locked eyes with the brown stallion, “A cutie mark can guide you, it can help direct you, but it does not control your heart,” she tapped him on the head, “or your mind.” The Goddess found a cask of wine and poured some out, “Your mark did what for you? You were a craftspony were you not? And you did that by yourself, but you also did more, so much more.” She pushed the goblet into his hooves, “Did your cutie mark prevent you from doing those things?”

Bracken shook his head, “No…no, but…what is it? I don’t even know what it’s supposed to be!”

The Goddess sighed, “It doesn’t ‘mean’ anything. I’ve only ever seen the mark once before, on a pony who travelled to the afterlife and returned. The mark was the same as this one - it shows that he was touched by the spirits.”

“And…are you…are you one of those spirits?” he asked.

She nodded, “Of a sort.”

Bracken hung his head, “I don’t understand this, its so much to take in!”

“I understand.” Nightmare Moon stroked his mane gently, nuzzling him. She could feel his fear, his confusion - it was in his breath, and his eyes. It worried her. “Bracken, don’t you see? This is a sign, a sign of a new beginning for you. Inside, you are still Bracken, but on the outside, you have been reborn. You have a chance now to make your own destiny, to stand by my side and help take Equestria to a new age of peace and prosperity, where all our peoples can be as one. Doesn’t that excite you? Don’t you want to be part of that?”

The black stallion stared at the ground, his legs quavering, but he looked up, looking her right in the eyes with that strength she knew had lain within him all along,

“Yes.”

She smiled, “Good. Now, I have a plan for you to keep you safe…”

The conviction in Bracken’s voice caught her by surprise,

“-I will not leave your side.”

A raised hoof however, brought him up short, “There is no need for you to do so my dear stallion.” Nightmare Moon grinned raising an eyebrow, “No need at all.”

*********************************

The salmon coated stallion shook his regulation length mane and stared down his muzzle at the white unicorn before him. Several more stallions in the uniform of the provost guard flanked him. All of them were armed with spears that gleamed in the sunlight.

“Private Chalk Dust,” The armoured stallion pronounced, “you are under arrest for desertion and shall be imprisoned until such time as a courts martial can be convened to determine your guilt and fate.”

“Buck off.”

The officer’s eye twitched,

“Guards!”

Even as the spears lowered, more than a dozen cutlasses hissed from their sheaths, including Chalk’s own crystalline sword. The officer’s lime green eyes went wide in shock,

“You…dare? YOU DARE!”

“I do dare, do you dare?” Chalk mocked.

Behind him, Gretel trotted down the gangplank surrounded by armed crewponies and sporting a heavy crossbow over her back. She stared at the officer and sneered,

“Hello, pretty boy, what do you want with one of my crew?”

There was a general peel of laughter from the ponies on the dockside.

The officer cleared his throat, “Private Chalk Dust is a serving member of Her Majesty’s armed forces. He was on assignment and although he has returned to the capital, he has not reported back and therefore has been classified as a deserter.”

The Captain smiled menacingly, “By who?”

“By his commanding officer” he replied calmly.

Chalk laughed, “Who would be you, of course.”

“Your commanding officer?” Gretel asked, “The one you told me about?”

Chalk nodded.

“The one who sent you and your friend on a suicide mission to the frozen north?”

He nodded again.

“Into enemy territory, underequipped and with no plan for pulling you out?” Gretel took off the crossbow from her back, standing it on end and leaning her forehooves on it, “This would be the officer who disobeyed General Dray’s instructions that you and Bracken were to remain in the Capital, correct?”

The officer remained silent.

“CORRECT?” the red mare glared at him, “Shallow Fry…”

The salmon coloured officer tried to compose himself, “I will not stand here and listen to any more of this nonsense madam. If you…”

“Well buck off then!” somepony shouted, eliciting another chorus of laughter.

“IF YOU…” Fry shouted, “do NOT come quietly, you will leave us no option but to use force.” He suddenly paled, slowly turning to look behind him. At least another fifty ponies from the Wind Wraith had appeared, all armed and looking like they knew damned well how to use the weapons they were carrying. A mint green mare in their midst suddenly shouted out,

“Hoy, Gretel, anything happening?”

The red mare shook her head, “Nah, just having a bit of a natter with the locals.”

“Don’t mind if we hang about for a bit do you?” Cyclone called, “Bit quiet at the minute; the boys could do with a break.”

“Be my guest!” Gretel called back. She fixed Fry with a hard look, “You were saying, Captain Fry?”

He looked distinctly green, drawing more comedic observations from the crew. Gretel watched him as a cat watched a mouse, her hooves twitching for a good fight. She went to open her mouth but Chalk was already taking the lead.

“You sent us off to die, didn’t you…Captain Fry.” Chalk’s voice was dangerously low despite the inflection of amusement, “You didn’t expect us to come back and now here I am.” He shook his head, “We completed out mission, we did your bloody errand for you and now I want to know what you’re going to do about rescuing my friend.”

Fry blinked, “What?”

Chalk stood tall, his golden mane catching the wind, “I asked you what you were going to do about rescuing my friend from the wendigo you spineless sack of filth.”

“H…how dare you!” Fry sputtered, “How dare you speak to me in that manner! I am your commanding officer and I will not be spoken to in this way!” he rallied some of his resolve and glowered at Chalk, “You’re the big stallion now are you? Easy to talk tough with your rag-tag band of cut-throats backing you up.”

Chalk took a deep breath and gave himself a shake,

“You can insult me, but you do not insult my friends you worthless dungpile.” He dropped into a fighting stance, “You and me, Fry, now, - nopony else.”

The officer looked unsure, glancing about nervously at the ponies around him. He licked his lips.

“Draw you sword, you damned coward!” Chalk roared.

Gretel and the crew of the Revenge stood back, as did the Wind Wraiths, and even the provost guard. The two ponies at the centre of the circle stared each other down: one a white unicorn, the other a salmon pink unicorn, both now the centre of a ring of expectant ponies. Captain Fry drew his sword, a superior look upon his face,

“Nopony interferes?”

Chalk nodded, waving to Gretel, “Nopony interferes.”

Fry smirked, “I’ll look forward to gutting you, you insignificant worm.”

“And I look forward to showing you how we fought at River Valley…coward.”

Fry screeched in range and charged Chalk, his sword surrounded in the pale blue glow of his magic. The white unicorn stood and waited, shifting his weight, his sword tip held low and towards his flank, his head down. Emotionless green eyes watched the approach of the enraged Fry. Everypony held their breath, staring intently as the combatants closed their distance.

Chalk felt nothing, only a sense of calm focus and a confidence born of experience. He cleared his mind. Time meant nothing here, in this place, in this moment - only the blade and the target, bringing the two together at the exact…same…point.

The enraged salmon coated officer span around to face his enemy, lifting his sword and stared at the immaculately clean blade. How the hell had he missed? He’d done this a hundred, no…a thousand times in training. His sparring partners had always commented on how precise and skilful he was! He’d won awards, damn it! And…what the hell was that bloody creature doing now? Why was he flicking his sword like that? He…he’d even sheathed it! The sheer arrogance! The…the…

Chalk raised an eyebrow at the provost guards,

“Well? Got anything you want to say?”

Silence fell on the dockside with only the soft sound of ponies shuffling out of the way to allow the armoured guards to withdraw as they collected the body of the officer. Seconds later, there was a huge cheer from the crews of the Amethyst Fleet, with all of them shoving in to congratulate their unicorn crewmate. Chalk closed his eyes and smiled sadly to himself. He didn’t like Fry, but was that enough reason to kill him? No…but then it hadn’t been for him, it was for what he’d put Gretel through, and for his friend - may the Goddesses bless him.

A big red mare grabbed him and pulled him into a hug,

“Are you hurt?”

“Other than having the breath squeezed out of me, no!” Chalk gasped happily.

Gretel released him and kissed him full on the lips, raising another cheer from the crew,

“Come on hero, let’s get you back to the ship. I’ve a feeling we won’t have heard the last of our friend Fry and his goons.”

She was right of course, Chalk thought to himself, this had to be brought to a conclusion quickly or it could impact on all of them. Fry was an unpopular stallion for good reason, but he was still an officer in the Celestian army, and if he knew one thing about his time there, they wouldn’t just let the matter drop.

He stopped in his tracks.

“Love, I need to finish this.”

Gretel turned back to fix him with a maroon eyed stare,

“Eh? What are talking about?”

“Fry.” Chalk scrubbed his mane, “I’m going to see Dray. If I don’t, this could have consequences for all of us because I’m on the crew.”

The Captain’s eyes gazed deeply into his and she barked out a laugh, “You never cease to surprise me. You’re right though, where there’s one rat like Shallow Fry, there’s always more. Way I look at it, you probably did the army a favour, but I doubt they’ll see it like that.” She started walking back towards the castle.

Chalk blinked, “Where are you going?”

Gretel rolled her eyes, “You’re a member of my crew aren’t you? As your Captain, I have responsibility for you.”

Chalk jumped in front of her, holding up a hoof, “Oh, no! No, you don’t!”

The red mare shoved him out of the way, “The last time you walked off towards the castle, I didn’t see you again for months.” Gretel’s eyes flashed, “No husband of mine will face danger alone.”

“Um…we’re not married yet.” Chalk said quietly.

Gretel neighed loudly, “Pah! You think I need a bit of paper or metal and some fancy words to tell me, the Captain of the Amethyst Fleet who my husband is?” she snorted, lifting her head and tossing her mane, “To use one of your words, dear…bollocks!”

Chalk laughed, trotting after her.

It didn’t take long to reach the castle and the gate guard. The two were let through without any trouble, suggesting that word of his ‘encounter’ with Fry hadn’t gotten around yet. The grounds inside the walls were, as always, chock full of troops and the seemingly obligatory mouldy tents set up with vendors selling all manner of merchandise and suspicious foodstuffs. One of them was cooking something spicy by smell of it, something…Chalk sniffed, his mouth watering…

“Chalky?”

The white unicorn stared at the long skewers cooking over the hot coals, thick with juicy pieces of delicious, moist goodness, just sizzling away. The hippogriff behind the counter was serving others of his kind: a surprisingly large group of well armed griffins.

Gretel grabbed his shoulder, “Chalky! Are you deaf?”

“Huh?”

“What in Equestria are you looking at that for?” Gretel said in amazement, “Don’t you know what that is?” she shook her head, “Its meat!”

“I…oh!” Chalk gave himself a shake, “Yeah, it just…it smelt so good.” He looked up at her sheepishly, “Must have been the onions.”

Gretel gave him a sidelong glance and shook her head, “I think we need to have a nice long chat later.” She said levelly. Chalk groaned; she wasn’t going to like what he told her…

Inside the main building Dray was easy to locate; all one need to do was follow the seemingly endless line of clerks and messengers. Rather surprisingly for such a ‘hooves on’ sort of pony, Chalk noted, he was in his office reading his way through a frighteningly large stack of reports. The General looked deep in thought, but still managed to acknowledge their entrance with a wave of his hoof. Gretel and Chalk sat quietly while Dray muttered to himself, making notes with the pencil he held in his mouth until finally rolling the scroll back up and returning to his chair. The veteran soldier sighed loudly,

“Mind if I smoke?”

Gretel shook her head, “So long as there’s enough for all of us.”

The veteran soldier laughed, “Aye, there is.” He pulled open a draw in his desk and took out a box of cigars and glasses, nodding to Chalk to pour out a measure from the decanter on the desk.

“Good to see you back safely, Mister Dust.”

Chalk nodded, passing a glass of what turned out to be port, to the General. He nodded, taking a breath,

“I killed Shallow Fry.”

“Mmm.” Dray said, taking a sip of his drink, “I believe so.”

“Word travels fast.” Gretel sniffed, lighting her cigar, “Quite an information network you have here.”

Dray shrugged, “It works.” He leaned back in his chair, letting out a thin plume of smoke, “I appreciate you coming to tell me.”

There was a pause. Chalk looked at Gretel who just shrugged. “Is that all you have to say?” he asked.

“What do you want me to say?” Dray replied, “What’s done is done. Fry was something of a trouble maker - good at basic tasks to be sure, but disobedient and should have been removed from command a long time ago. I take full responsibility for that mistake.” Dray sighed, “He went against my orders and sent you off, unbeknownst to me at the time, to a place where you were very unlikely to return from. If I wasn’t so short of officers, even fools like him, I would have sent him back to the ranks as soon as I found out.”

“So, that’s that then?” Gretel asked.

“Mostly,” The old veteran said stretching his forelegs, “I cannot have any more officers killed though, Mister Dust. Even if they are imbeciles.” He fixed him with a look, “You leave them for me to deal with. Understand?”

Chalk nodded, “Yes, sir.”

“Now,” Dray continued, “I understand you completed your mission by virtue of the fact that you are sat here, and we have a certain mad grey unicorn ‘helping’ the Princess with ‘something’.” He waved a hoof for emphasis, “I expect you’ll be wanting something by way of recognition?”

Chalk shrugged, he hadn’t really thought about it.

Dray pulled out a sheath of papers and a quill, “I’m transferring you for the duration of your service to the command to Captain Gretel of the King Sombra’s Revenge.” He peered up at him from scroll, “You will obey her, as you would me, only this time I expect you to do as you are bloody well told and NOT come back here again!”

“No, sir.” Chalk muttered.

The General rolled his eyes and passed him the scroll, “Oh, and there’s something for you here too.” He reached under the desk and pulled out a heavy leather book. Chalk read the cover,

“Control of Elemental Majic. A beginners guide to thautaturgical theory and practice.” He scratched his mane, “Why’s it spelt like that?”

Dray took a pull on his cigar, leaned back in his chair and rolled his shoulders, “Buggered if I know, probably foreign or some bonkers unicorn’s idea of being clever. The nutty professor with the interesting fashion sense sent it up for you to collect when you stopped by - said it may be of help to you.”

Chalk slipped the book into his pannier, “Um…thanks.”

“Call in at the bursars office too,” The General said, picking up another scroll, “you’ve got quite a bit of back dated pay to collect and a bonus from Her Majesty for completing the mission successfully.”

Gretel and Chalk stood up to leave.

“Chalky?” Dray’s voice was calm, but carried a note of…regret? “I’m sorry about Bracken. I wish there was something I could do, but…”

“I know.” Chalk said quietly. He snapped off a salute, “Thanks for everything, Sir.”

Dray returned the salute, “Now unless you want to help me with this paperwork, then you can bugger off, I’m busy.”

Outside the office, Chalk smiled at Gretel, who gave him a kiss on the muzzle. Nothing more needed to be said. He was free, free to sail the skies and seas with his beloved mare, his friends and that most magnificent of ships - the Revenge. The two collected Chalk’s pay from the bursars office and, suitably weighed down with a large bag of bits, headed out into the capital.

“Where are you going off to?” Gretel asked in a singsong voice.

“Back to the Four Horse Shoes?” Chalk paused and let out a groan, “We’re not are we…”

“Nope!” Gretel suddenly grabbed his foreleg and pulled him towards her, “You need a new cloak! Oh, and some new boots…maybe a tunic…yes! A new tunic! Won’t that be nice?”

“Oh Goddesses help me!” Sobbed Chalk as the red mare yanked him away.

**************************

From the hell of the shopping district, tired, defeated and thirsty, Chalk all but kicked open the door to the Four Horse Shoes. Warmth engulfed him, as did a gaggle of giggling barmares who, under the direction of the landlord, quickly arranged for the ludicrous number of bags and boxes that festooned him to be removed.

“Bugger me, I didn’t think that would end.” Chalk gasped, “How can a mare shop for hours? I ask you, how?!”

The Landlord, Pine Needle, chuckled, “My late wife did that all the time.”

“How’s business, Pine?” Gretel smiled, ignoring the white unicorn beside her.

“Doing very well, Captain.” The stallion replied, wiping his hooves on his apron, “What can I get you?”

“A wheat beer, a salt lick and…Chalk?”

“Oh, the same, please.” The unicorn replied wearily taking a seat by the fire.

The Landlord nodded and trotted away.

“I can’t believe you actually bought this place!” Chalk whispered, “What possessed you to do it?”

Gretel raised an eyebrow, “I’m looking at him.”

Chalk groaned and looked at his bag of bits, “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to re...”

“-Oh, belt up.” She cut in, “I didn’t do it because I wanted repaying, and you know it.” Gretel bopped him on the nose, “This place is a little gold mine too; with all the river traffic and soldiers, they’re raking it in.”

“A bit up-market for soldiers and sailors, don’t you think?” Chalk said stretching his legs.

Gretel laughed, “Not enough sawdust, blood and teeth on the floor, eh?”

Chalk chuckled, “No! I mean, its so…clean. Come on Gretel, you know what I mean.”

She smirked, “Upstairs we have officers and Lords and Ladies. It’s clean, well priced and has a damned good menu.” “For ponies.” She added raising an eyebrow.

Chalk groaned; he knew this would come up at some point, but he’d have to tell her the truth. He grimaced, expecting the inevitable tirade,

“In…the mountains…”

Gretel leaned on her forelegs, leaning across the table, “Mmhmm.”

“There wasn’t much in the way of vegetables. Not enough to live on anyway.”

“Right.”

“And, well…I was ill you know. So…that is…” Chalk shivered, “The tribe there eat meat.”

“Oh, Chalky.” Gretel shook her head slowly, “You know that’s bad for you, don’t you?”

“Of course I do!” he grumbled, “But what else could I do? There was barely enough for one, let alone three and Neira was…well, she was a very good cook.” He looked at her askance, “Does it…bother you?”

Gretel shook her head, “No, but I’ve heard the same stories we all did as foals,
you know. I just wondered why you were staring at the griffins kebab stall.”

“Stories?” Chalk laughed, “You think I’ll turn into a monster?”

“Let’s see those teeth.” Gretel said raising a hoof.

Shaking his head, Chalk complied, allowing Gretel a full view.

“Still a pony?”

“Still a pony” she laughed, “Anyway, joking aside, I want to discuss something with you.”

“Oh?”

Gretel nodded, “I want you to be our ships new Wind Mage.”

Chalk smiled, “An official position?”

“Oh, yes.” Gretel replied knowingly, “Comes with a decent salary, food and board, plus other…benefits.”

The white unicorn leaned across the table and gently stroked Gretel’s hoof, “You make a tempting offer, Captain. Where do I sign?”

“I’ll have Doc write up the contract in the morning.” Gretel nodded her thanks to the Landlord who appeared with the wheat beers and lick, “You know Chalky, that things are going to get a lot worse before they get better in Equestria. I’ve heard worrying things about the Legion coming this way, and both sides preparing for another engagement.”

Chalk shrugged, “I know. I think it was inevitable really; the Legion were never going to just let Celestia walk back into the castle, especially after Ochre had signed the surrender.” He took a sip of his beer, “I’m amazed it’s taken this long for them to re-organise. Anyway, what about us? Do we take sides?”

“I…”

Gretel’s voice died in her mouth as the door flew open, a large cloaked royal guard barging in. He looked flustered, glancing around the room until he spotted the two of them. Chalk’s heart sank as the soldier approached.

“Captain Gretel?” The soldier asked.

“Yes?”

“General Dray respectfully requests your presence at the castle.”

Gretel looked at Chalk, “Respectfully!” she laughed, “How could we refuse when he asked so nicely?”

“Bugger it. I’ve just got in and I haven’t even finished me bloody beer yet!” Chalk noticed the soldier waiting impatiently and leaned on his foreleg with a groan, “We’re going now aren’t we…”

The Captain smiled, “You want to live forever?”

The weather outside was cold, wet and miserable, turning it into the sort of day any sensible pony would definitely want to spend indoors where it was warm, instead of trotting down a wet street ‘trying out’ their new cloak. Chalk missed his old cloak; Gretel had sent the thing to the cleaners and it had neartly caused a riot when they found out it was made of ‘non inorganic material’ as Strata had put it. He’d finally managed to get it back, and took it to the griffin traders asking for their help, but they didn’t prove to be of any use either - bloody useless bunch of oversized budgies that they were. In desperation he’d taken it back to the ship to wash it himself, only to have it confiscated by an angry red mare who took exception to it being hung up to dry in the cabin. Bloody fussy mares! He’d had the windows open and buckets underneath to catch the drips, so what was the problem? He sniffed in indignation; it wasn’t like the cloak had smelled that bad…for the most part. Good Goddesses, the bloody thing was one hundred percent genuine yak! And now, here he was, hurrying through the gloomy streets while the weather made a valiant attempt at soaking every square inch of him with a combination of snow and rain, or ‘sleet’, as Gretel had called it. They certainly never had it round his part of Equestria; it was either sun, rain or snow, not this cold crap falling from the sky. He grumbled under his breath. Next time he saw Celestia he was going to have a word about this nonsense. Maybe.

Dray was in the large meeting hall with the Princess, a group of officers and numerous other ponies, some Chalk had seen before, others he hadn’t. With a sigh of relief he noted that the meeting had apparently already been concluded as several of the groups began to leave and others were busy talking amongst themselves. While he waited, Chalk stared up at the huge ceiling emblazoned with an immense mural of what was probably a depiction of Celestia raising the sun and Luna the moon in an eternal cycle. Secretly he wondered if anypony bothered looking up there anymore, or even seriously believed in all that religious mumbo jumbo. He’d never seen either of them do it, but he’d heard of the ceremonies they would hold from time to time. Mum had never really wanted to go, but he knew other families who did and it was all ‘Ooh!’ and ‘Aah!’ when they got back. Hmph! They even had toys and treats, but he never got anything and nopony wanted to take him - the ‘ghost pony’. When he grew up, not even Bracken’s parents would go. Of course, that may have had something to do with his mum being a follower of Luna, but it seemed harmless enough. Most ponies followed one or the other of the Princesses to some degree, some both. Best not to hedge your bets, he supposed.

“Ah, Captain, Mister Dust, thank you for coming.”

Dray walked up, scrubbing his mane and looking like he was in desperate need of a good nights sleep, or even a week for that matter. Dealing with all those reports can’t be good for a pony, Chalk thought, and the dark circles under Dray’s eyes were certainly testament to that.

“Have we missed the party?” Gretel chirped, nodding towards the others.

Dray laughed, “No! I just didn’t think you’d want to sit around and listen to a load of boring diplomacy. Goddesses know, it nearly had me nodding off a few times. I’m obviously not made for these sorts of things, but the Princess, now she’s in a league of her own. Ponies listen to her, and not just ponies either.” He motioned towards a group of griffins, “We’ll have a lot more air cover than we had last time.”

Chalk had a horrible sinking feeling, “Last time?”

Dray smiled grimly, “Its no secret lad, the Legion is on the move. If we are to have a chance of defeating them, we need friends, both at home and abroad.”

Gretel glanced at Chalk before addressing the General, “And are we one of these ‘friends’?”

Dray nodded, “I hope so.”

He motioned to them to follow him into a side room and closed the door behind them. Sinking gratefully into one of the plush chairs, the General waved to the other two to do the same. It was a fairly simple room, clearly not intended for anypony to stay in there for any length of time, but it would suffice. Dray leaned his forelegs on the table and looked at Gretel directly,

“I’ll be to the point, Captain. I need you, I need your ships, and we need your skills. The Amethyst Fleet could tip the scales in our favour during the coming battle. The Princess has authorised me to pay you in bits or offer you land, trading rights, or whatever it will take to have your help in the coming weeks.”

“Weeks?” Chalk asked, “You expect an attack here?”

Dray, ignored him, “Captain?”

Gretel shook her mane, “You want me to choose sides.” She leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling. Damn it all…she knew this was coming. It had all been too good to be true, hadn’t it? Ferrying troops and equipment had been very lucrative, and the Celestian army were good payers, she’d give them that. They also hadn’t locked them up like the Legion had, but then, she hadn’t tried to stiff them had she? If she were a gambling pony, she’d put her money on the Legion, but as to who she’d prefer to win, the answer was clear. Moreover, the Legion would be unlikely to believe that they were simply freetraders with no allegiance after all this time, and she certainly didn’t want to put it to the test. She expected Dray knew that well enough,

“You’ve been a good client, Dray.” Gretel said leaning back in her chair, “What you’re asking of us now is, I expect, going to be a lot more shall we say, ‘direct’?”

The General nodded, “I can’t give you details right now, but I suspect you already have an idea what we have in mind.”

Gretel smiled, “Aye.” She rubbed her face with a foreleg, catching Chalk’s worried expression, “The Legion have friends too, Dray: big, powerful, and probably very angry friends.” She cocked her head slightly, “We have two sky galleons.”

“I know.” The grey stallion replied, “But we have a lot more friends this time, and some of them are just as big, just as powerful and if not as angry as the Legion’s, then greed can make for a very powerful motivator.”

The red mare grinned, “Indeed.” She tapped her chin in thought. She should be discussing this with Cyclone and the rest of the crew, but in reality, she knew damned well what they would decide already. She’d never lead them astray, she’d never lied to them nor cheated them - they trusted her with their lives. She looked to Chalk,

“Thoughts?”

Chalk nodded and turned to Dray, “After my last trip out on behalf of the army, I think you’ll appreciate that we’d like to see exactly what you have planned for us before we can give you any definitive answer.”

The General looked from Chalk to Gretel in confusion.

“Chalky is my husband, General,” she replied, “you may speak to him as you would to me.”

Dray’s eyes went wide, “You’re married?!” He coughed loudly and leaned down to pull out a decanter of brandy from the desk drawer, “Good Goddesses! When did you do that? I didn’t…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gretel said taking a glass from the surprised stallion, “what does matter is where we go from here.” She took a mouthful of the Brandy, “The price will be dependant upon the level of risk, General. I’m sure you understand that the safety of both my ships and their crews comes first.”

“Naturally” Dray replied, “But be assured Captain, that the protection of your ships is my priority as well - that, and playing our cards close to our chest until we’re ready to show the Legion our hoof. I’m sure you understand.” He raised an eyebrow, “Can we count on you?”

Gretel gave Chalk a look. He nodded.

“I think so, General.” Gretel said giving the scarred grey stallion a sly smile, “But I want a contract writing up and an assurance of payment first.”

Dray reached into his pannier and pulled out a scroll, hoofing it to her,

“I think you’ll find everything in order.”

Gretel shook her head in wonder, “Always plan ahead, eh?”

Dray laughed, “Always.”

*********************************

There were parts of the ancient castle that hadn’t been visited in more years than anypony could recall - no mortal pony. Down here, in the darkness, amongst the foundations below even the dungeons and the deepest cellars, lay a room where only two beings could tread in safety. The feel of unimaginable age and emptiness, the sense of utter loneliness, pervaded the very stones themselves. Damp filled the air despite the magical wards, making the floor and walls slick and wet in places, ready to catch the unwary. A broken leg down here would not be a fate worth considering, nor the thought of climbing back up the winding narrow stairs that lead down here. She’d taken a lantern of course, there were parts of this maze that magic simply disappeared, sucked into a void of nothingness. Some areas were the opposite, where alicorn magic was needed to pass certain doors and barriers. It was a place that none save those of the royal line could pass.

The white alicorn, her rainbow mane flowing in the astral winds of her homeland, opened the final door.

Celestia’s hooves echoed as she walked, numerous magical lamps bursting into flame along the wall of the circular room in answer to her presence. In the centre stood a pillar, a simple, grey stone pillar. It was nothing special, neither ornate nor carved, simply…a grey, stone, pillar. The Princess walked up to it and hung her head. By the Gods…she’d never wanted this…never…

“My daughter…”

“Mother” Celestia said shaking her head sorrowfully, “Come to change my mind?”

“No.” The golden mare walked up to her daughter and gave her a nuzzle, “This is your world, Celestia, yours and Luna’s. You must do what you must do.”

“To restore balance…” The white alicorn said calmy.

“Balance in all things,” the Goddess sighed, “your father…” she sat down next to Celestia and brushed her hoof through her blue-grey mane absently, sendling ripples through the galaxies and constellations, “He loves you, both of you.”

The Princess spoke quietly, “I know.”

“Is there no other way, Tia?” Her mother asked.

Tia…the only other one who called her that, other than family was…She closed her eyes, pushing away the thoughts, “I’ve tried, mother, but she’s like father - so stubborn and bull headed.” She let out a long breath, “If this were but a foal’s game, a sisterly spat…but ponies are dying, mama, and I…I feel it…I feel every life as it slips from this world…” she looked up into her mother’s eternal blue eyes, “…and it hurts…it hurts so much!”

The Goddess took her daughter into a embrace, stroking her mane comfortingly, “Shhh, my beloved Tia, I know, believe me, I know. Those who pass to the eternal herd are at peace now, reunited with their loved ones and happy beneath the sun and the moon. You have done all you can, I know this…as I also know your father and your sister.” She kissed Celestia on the forhead, “Do what you have to do, to bring back the light, Tia. Restore hope to the people - all the people of Equestria. You have the power to do this, but it is your heart, your resolve, that you must temper.”

Celestia nuzzled her mother, “I know, mama. I will do what I must.”

“You found the wizard?” The Goddess asked.

Celestia nodded, “I have, but it is proving a greater task than I had thought.”

“If it is fated…” her mother began.

The Princess slammed her hoof down angrily, her voice rumbling ominously in the cold room, “I don’t give a damn about fate! That evil witch has caused more than enough suffering in this world, but what I despise about her the most is that she feels nothing, nothing at all!”

“Tia? We have spoken of this before, have we not?” The Goddess fixed her daughter with a stern gaze, “Fate is not like you or I, she is a creature that sits outside the normal sphere of existence and weaves the threads of all lives, both great and small. She sees everything but can feel, as you said yourself, nothing. Should we not feel pity for such a tragic being?”

Celestia huffed, “I wish I could.”

Her mother smiled sadly, “Perhaps one day, you will visit her again with new eyes.”

The Princess said nothing. She hated that creature, and as much as it may have left a shadow on her soul, she could never forgive her for what she’d told her when she was a foal. This…this loss…it was her fault, all her fault. She took a breath and stepped forward, closing her eyes and speaking the words, the words that would unlock that which would help bring an end to this tragedy. She spoke,

“From one to another, another to one. A mark of one's destiny singled out alone, fulfilled”

From atop the pillar, a miniature facsimile of the sun appeared, its tiny rays warming the cold air in the room.

“From day to night, from darkness to light. From the other to here, the lost now found.”

A small moon now appeared, opposite the sun, the two rotating around each other in perfect symmetry. Celestia watched them: the sun, the moon…the epitomy of the two sisters. She closed her eyes and spoke the final words,

“Harmony…in all things.”

Quietly, but steadily, the pillar began to rise up, the sun and moon rotating around it, following its path up, up into the ceiling far above. She let out the breath she’d been holding.

It was done.

“Tia, never forget we love you.” The Goddess smiled gently, her blue eyes twinkling in the eerie light, “No matter what, we will always love you.”

Celestia turned from the empty room, her head low and her spirits bleak. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it was; but she couldn’t falter now, no matter how much it hurt inside.

“And I love you mother.” She said quietly.

The Princess’s hoofsteps, along with the light of her magic, disappeared down the empty corridor, returning the darkness to its eternal home.

Chapter Fifty Four - Warriors Lament

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

WARRIORS LAMENT

Hunger and privation were discomforts that a warrior had to endure from time to time, and were an accepted result of the incessant internecine warfare in the Wither World that had brought many of the tribes to their knees. In some ways though it was something they could all understand – but this…this was something altogether new: Equestria had seasons, whereas the Withers had none. More confusing was the fact they had day and night cycles, whereas the Withers, once again, had one - an endlessly, unchanging dark sky that disappeared into infinity. This place, the land they hoped to call their home, was beginning to wear upon them. It had been subtle at first, the odd occasion wereby the food was a little short on quantity - easily explained away of course, but then there had been days where food had simply not arrived at all. Fortunately, thestrals were adept hunters, but with so many in the army, prey animals quickly began to run short and many of the warriors were unsure as to what they could and could not hunt; occasionally with disastrous consequences. Fortunately, some of their pony allies had proven helpful in this regard, as well as the carnivores such as the griffins, hippogriffs and of course, those temperamental dragons.

The Colonel hated dragons.

His sour mood had been fermenting all day, rather like the bile in his empty stomach. Those damned Celestians had taken honour and thrown it out of the window; attacking their supply lines, their reinforcements and outposts with surprising ease. The Legion had limited resources to begin with, and after the surrender they’d spread out their numbers to maintain order in the country whilst the population became used to the new order. All the Celestians had done however, was use the situation as breathing room to lick their wounds, regroup, and attack the lightly defended castle whilst the bulk of the Legion’s forces ran off on some wild goose chase! As much as loved his Goddess, as much as he would throw down his very life at her command, he wished she would leave commanding the army to those who had more experience in such matters. Fulminata took a draw on his pipe and let the smoke roll around before sending it up into the chill air. He’d read the latest reports and they made for poor reading. The Celestians, those ‘weak’ and ‘spineless’ herbivores, had more spine that he’d given them credit for - at least, until the latest report had come in. There’d been a raid to the southwest, at a lightly defended food distribution centre. It had been next to a medical post, where warriors were sent to recuperate. The ponies had…he sighed, scratching his chin, they’d killed everyone: the medical personnel, the wounded, the sick…everyone. It was war, and in war victory was all, but still…killing those incapable of fighting back was…wrong. Naturally, they had tried to keep the whole sorry episode quiet, but inevitably word had got out, and now the warriors wanted revenge. Tempers were beginning to boil over, not just with the main force, but elsewhere. Reports had come in regarding incidents of warriors losing control and killing civilians in a frenzy of violence. Worse still, there had been more reports of warriors being found with home made ‘battle enhancements’ - that sickening powder, ‘Haj’.

Thank the Goddess they were moving at last. The feeling of tension, like a wound spring, was beginning to dissipate with the warriors focus diverted back to what they did best. Garrison duty, guard postings…these were no job for a warrior of the Goddess, and spreading themselves out had just made them easy picking for the rebels. He had to admit though, he had some grudging respect for the Equestrians - their tactics had been…novel. But now, hungry, angry and thirsty for battle, his warriors would push the blade fully home into this ‘uprising’. The Goddess was with them, their goal clear: destroy the white witch, eliminate the enemy, kill anything or anypony who bore arms against her Divine Majesty. Fulminata’s wings ruffled slightly with a shiver of excitement. Battle was his element, war his stock in trade, and he would teach these Celestians what happened to those who defied their Goddess.

Most of the warriors had been recalled, only a few now remained in outlying areas who had not responded; they were more than likely already with their ancestors. Priority now was given to re-assembling the army into the cohesive, lethal, and focussed fighting force it had been during the invasion. For the most part that had been accomplished and even the dragons, along with their elder, Etrida, had promised their support along with the wendigo. He shuddered involuntarily; some of his people virtually worshipped those damned things, seeing them as some sort of highly evolved thestral, ‘ascended’ to a ‘higher plane’ or some such nonsense. He saw them for what they were: ponies infested with the spirits that inhabited the world between the worlds, the things that would appear from time to time in the black sands of the Wither World - lonely, hungry and forever searching for the living. The wendigo were little more than descendants of ponies who had given themselves to those things, and sold their soul to the vile entities, and for what? Power? Longevity? Some things were simply not worth the sacrifice. His people, the thestrals, had already sacrificed too much, far too much. He opened the tent door and walked inside into the spicily scented interior. The temperature in here was at least warmer than outside, but the strong incense was almost overpowering.

The healer bowed politely to the older thestral, “Good morning Colonel.”

Fulminata bobbed his head in reply, “How is he?”

“Well enough to walk, old friend.” A familiar voice said from behind him.

The Colonel span round to face the smiling warrior he knew so well,

“Thorn!” he reached out clop the warrior on the shoulder and paused, “Are you…?”

The Major’s eyes burned brightly, his whole demeanor showing willing and drive. He nodded his head, “I’m alive.” With a laugh, he reached forward and clasped forelegs with his friend, “It’s good to see you again. Where have you been?”

Fulminata shrugged, “Chasing my tail for the most part.” He sighed, “I expect you’ve heard the rumours?”

Thorn raised an eyebrow, “Celestia…”

The Colonel nodded, “Back and leading a rising tide of insurgency against us. The witch is back in her lair and we’re going to go and put an end to this farce once and for all.”

“You don’t think she will just wait for us there, do you?” Thorn said.

“No.” The Colonel shook his head, taking out his long stemmed pipe, “I know she won’t.” He passed another to his friend despite the healer look of dismay. Fulminata chuckled, “Our Goddess’s errant sister will come to meet us.”

“What? Head on?” Thorn’s eye’s flared, “That would be madness, unless…”

“-she knows something we don’t?” Fulminata shook his head, “I know what you mean, and finding information has proved…difficult” He lit his pipe with a thin stream of flame and took a few puffs, “…but not impossible.”

Thorn nodded, the two of them leaving the tent to walk outside and talk privately. Tying on his cloak the Major checked nobody was nearby before speaking,

“Dragons?”

“I believe so.” Fulminata said quietly, “Etrida has heard rumours of a deal being struck with the southern dragons to be gifted their nesting grounds when they have won.”

“The arrogance!” Thorn barked a laugh, “Dragons are all the same.”

The Colonel smiled, “I’m inclined to agree.”

“Theres more though isn’t there?” Thorn said raising an eyebrow, “Dragons fighting dragons is one thing, but the real battle will be on the ground.”

Fulminata nodded, “They have approached the yaks and llamas for help.”

“Do you think they will?” Thorn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No.” The Colonel shook his head slowly, “We have agents in their homelands offering ‘incentives’ to keep out of our affairs.”

The Major scratched his mane in thought, “I do not know these creatures, are they a threat?”

Fulminata shrugged, “Her Divine Majesty does not believe so. Personally I believe the Llamalian Empire’s weapons are intrigue, rumour and money, whereas the yaks are most notable for being suicidally hot headed - and for making cloaks.”

Thorn laughed, “I can honestly say my dear Colonel, that I have little skill in the art of knitting!”

The two friends laughed together, taking in the cool air and morning sunshine. It was bitterly cold, with still the odd snow shower, but the Goddess had assured them a thaw was on the way along with warmer weather.

“Your injuries appear to he healing up well.” The Colonel observed, “A few more scars like that and you’ll have every female in the land chasing you.”

Thorn shook his head, “Not with this wing.” He said staring off into the distance, “No female would want a cripple as a mate.”

The Colonel watched his friend’s expression; it never changed. This wasn’t like him, not at all. What had happened to him in that other world? He gave him a stern look,

“Thorn, you know better than that.”

“Perhaps…” The Major sighed, “Forget I said anything. I fear being trapped in the healer’s tent all this time has worn upon me more than I thought.” He barked out a laugh, “Not quite as indestructible as I thought I was, apparently!”

Fulminata smiled; his friend would be fine, and everything would be as it should be after all. Being confined like that, unable to fight beside your comrades, must have been hard for him,

“Thorn, I…”

The Major suddenly coughed loudly and grimaced.

“Thorn!” The Colonel caught his friend as he toppled over sideways, “Healer! HEALER!”

The Colonel’s shouts quickly brought the Legion’s healer along with several of his orderlies. Pushing in, the older thestral placed his ear to Thorn’s chest and looked in his eyes. Quickly, he clopped his hooves together and, with practiced ease, the downed thestral was rolled onto a stretched and whisked back to the main tent. The Colonel followed close behind.

Several hours passed. The warmth of the tent was oppressive, and making Fulminata feel unwell just being there. How could anybody recover in such a place? He’d rather be outside beneath the sky, than suffering and possibly breathing his last in here. It was a terrifying thought. Being killed on the battlefield held no fears for a warrior of the Goddess, but being wounded, dying slowly…it was a fate that he didn’t want to contemplate. He caught the healer’s attention as the strange creature re-appeared from behind the curtain,

“What happened? How is he?”

The healer shook his head and wiped his eyes with his foreleg, “Tell me Colonel, have you heard of ‘Equestria Syndrome’?”

“That nonsense?” The older thestral sniffed derisively, “I’ve heard the rumours as much as anyone, but it’s soldiers gossip - no more than that.”

“There is some truth to it.” The healer said, sitting back on his haunches, “We’re adjusting, all of us, day by day to this new world, but its taking its toll in the meantime: the weather, the food, the sun, the moon…” he sighed, “I could go on.” The strange creature scratched his muzzle, staring off through the opening in the tent, “It’s affecting some more than others, and I’ve had to send some of the older warriors back to the Withers already.”

“I knew nothing of this!” The Colonel said in a louder voice than he meant to, “We need all our fighting strength here, now! And you’re sending them back?”

The healer fixed him with a look, “Would you risk having a deranged warrior in your midst? Some of them have been turning to Haj, despite the threat of execution. We need time, Colonel, time to adjust, and to acclimatise to this world. This is a battle we cannot win by brute force, but by time.”

Fulminata gritted his teeth angrily. Why hadn’t anyone told him about this? He took a breath and tried to calm himself down. Of course, what the healer said made some sense, there were plenty of rumours flying around about warriors losing themselves to anger, but it had usually been put down to the poor diet due to the Celestians attacking their food lines and the lust for revenge for fallen comrades - but this? This sounded as though they were fighting not only the Celestians but the land itself. Dear Goddess, was that true?

“What has this to do with Storm Major Thorn?” he asked.

“He needs rest, proper rest, and familiar food from our home world.” The healer replied, “He’s been through a lot, Colonel, but he’s not healing as well as he should. I’ve got other cases like him too.” He glanced back towards where Thorn lay beyond the heavy curtain, “He needs to go home.”

Fulminata shook his head slowly, “Are you certain?”

The healer nodded, “If he stays here, he could die.”

The Colonel turned towards the entrance, “Get him home” he said quietly, “Quickly.”

*********************

Thorn lay on the straw, bouncing and jarring along with the motion of the cart. Despite the addition of springs, the thing still felt as if it were hitting every rut, furrow, and pothole in Equestria. He didn’t get motion sickness often, but his injuries and the subsequent infection has combined to steal away his chance to be there when the army clashed with the Celestians for the final battle. Somehow, he had to get himself fit in time, but how? One minute he felt fine, the next he was throwing his guts up over the side of the cart.

There were others here with him too, others who’d been injured in service to her Divine Majesty: others, who were just…sick. He was sick, sick and tired of being like this: weak, pathetic, and useless. What use was he to his people, to the Goddess even, as a damned cripple? He felt another wave of nausea pass over him with a jolt from the cart. Damn it! It would have been better it that damned boy had killed him, or better still, if he had killed him when he’d had the chance. He’d tried to help her though hadn’t he? The White Witch as they called her - the alicorn…Celestia. He’d come to know her, a little anyway, in the world of humans, along with her…’companion’. ‘Rush’, that was his name; a two legged male human with claws like a minotaur and teeth like a pony. How those things had survived as a species was probably more down to their ability to manipulate tools than anything else. He’d seen the humans at work – they had a surprising level of dexterity, more so than the average thestral. They were intelligent too…for the most part. He felt sorry for the human though: he clearly didn’t belong there. Although he were a thestral himself, even he could see that Rush stuck out like a missing ear.

What was Rush’s relationship with the Princess? Friend? Lover? Surely not. Nobility tended to marry within their own ranks in Equestria, or so he’d been told. His people did things a lot more sensibly; there, the females decided who they wanted as a mate and, providing one was not already taken, would tell the tribal council of their decision and that would be that. If another female lodged an interest, then the two would fight to decide who took the male. Here, it appeared that both males and females pursued each other dependant upon their fancy. Thorn shuddered; the thought of having to approach a female warrior and tell her of your ‘interest’ in her was…disturbing. Still, the way that human had looked at the Princess, the look in his eyes - it was not one of blind devotion as he would have expected, but one that spoke of a deeper bond between them. He coughed out a laugh; he was going soft! Thinking about such nonsense was not something a warrior should be…

The cart lurched again, sending a wave of hot nausea through his stomach.

“Hey!” one of the others called to him, “Where are you going?”

Thorn pulled himself to the tail of the cart, “I’m going to walk; unless you’d like me to cover you in vomit.”

The others were silent after that. Clambering out, Thorn managed to catch himself and was pleasantly surprised to find his legs still worked surprisingly well. Goddess, he wished he still had his pipe, but the healer had told him in no uncertain terms that that little pleasure would likely send him to the next world in his current ‘condition’. It was just another frustration, another hurdle that needed to be crossed before he could put this whole sorry mess behind him. Fortunately, the column was moving slowly enough that he could keep up, and he joined the ranks of walking wounded, solemnly trooping along behind the cart. Some of them…some were…he shook the thought from his mind. Dwelling on such things was no place for a warrior.

They trudged on, through sleet, snow and rain for hour after hour. At least he hadn’t passed out yet, so that was a good sign, he thought to himself bitterly - but his stomach…what the hell was wrong with the thing? It was… He looked up, they were stopping. From the front of the column, a pony walked back, passing out ladles of some sort of broth to them all. Thorn held his mess pail from its bail and watched the watery slop drop into it.

“I’ll be glad to get home,” One of the warriors grumbled beside him, “for the food if nothing else.” The dark green thestral stared after the long haired mare, “Damned things…it’s all their fault…all of them.”

Thorn walked over to the side of the track and sank to his haunches. Goddess help him, even a whiff of this stuff made his stomach do somersaults. Still, if this was all they were going to get, he had to make at least some effort to keep it down; a warrior’s body needed fuel. A vibration through the ground announced the arrival of the green thestral,

“What do you think?”

Thorn glanced at him while sampling the contents of his pail, “About what?”

“You know! Them!” the newcomer nodded towards the mare, “Celestians!”

“That’s not a Celestian,” the Major replied dismissively, “she’s from one of the northern tribes.”

The dark green coated warrior snorted derisively, “Fooled you too, have they?” He glared after the mare, “Vile, evil, lying sub-creatures. You can’t trust them, none of them, they’ll slit our throats as we sleep.” He poked Thorn with his hoof, “She’ll come for us too, you wait and see.” He nodded knowingly to himself, “You’ll see.”

The Major closed his eyes and hung his head. What was this bloody fool talking about? The paranoid ramblings of some random lunatic were the last thing he needed right then. Despondently he stared down into his pail at the watery remains of what had apparently been masquerading as food; he’d eaten it, mostly. In some strange quirk of fate, the distraction provided by the green thestral had probably diverted his stomach’s attention away from its constant desire to empty itself. Long may it continue, he thought to himself bitterly. Fortunately, with evening approaching, bedding was soon issued and with it, the prospect of a welcome nights sleep.

Night time on the road was anything but comfortable. The cries and shrieks of unfamiliar wild animals had many of them on edge, especially the younger ones. This world, this strange new land, was something he wanted to call home, but even so…it didn’t feel like…he sighed…”home”. Thorns mind drifted off, sleep coming gradually, but comfortingly.

Home. Such a simple word, but conjuring images of warmth by the fire, a cup of balta with your friends and…what was that?
Thorn’s eyes flicked open. Was he hearing things in his sleep? It must have been another loud Equestrian beast that…

There is was again.

He was fully away now and reaching for his axe. Fortunately, that was one thing they hadn’t taken from him, or his armour, albeit that was still in the supply wagon. He strained his eyes and hearing; there definitely something…a grunting, gasping sort of noise, like a creature struggling with another. Thorn flexed his shoulders and headed towards the sound, keeping low, moving away from the sleeping warriors of the column. The guards were at the far end by the fire, well away from ‘the sick’ - how thoughtful of them. He was getting nearer though; the sounds, although sporadic, were definitely nearby. There was a gasp, a whimper of pain and then the low cackle of something, or someone, laughing just beyond the next group of thick bushes.

It was the green thestral.

Thorn stared at the warrior standing over the twitching body of the mare who’d brought them their food earlier. The thestral held a long thin knife between his teeth which gleamed in the light from his glowing eyes, the blood of his victim slowly dripping onto her fur. He looked round at the Major’s approach, his eyes wild with what Thorn could only describe as…madness.

“I told you…” the green thestral said releasing the knife, “I said she would slit our throats in our sleep, but you wouldn’t believe me would you? Now the Goddess is angry at us for allowing this evil creature to come amongst us, and now…” the stallion made a strange coughing sound, his voice rising in pitch, “Now they must all die…all must be cleansed.”

Thorn had seen battle madness before, he’d seen what the true horrors of war could do to a thestrals mind, but this…he recognised it. There was only one thing that induced that kind of mindless, empty stare,

“Haj” he whispered.

“Hmm?” the green thestal replied, his lip quivering, “She’s still warm, brother, shall we have a little fun with her? The Goddess would want us to enjoy this bitch before she goes to join the white witch in hell.”

“I don’t think so.” Thorn said quietly, “Come away, leave her.”

“So you can have her all to yourself? I don’t think so.” The thestral said, his voice dropping an octave, “This is my kill, my prize, and I say what I do and not you!”

Thorn narrowed his eyes, “Come back to the others with me, brother. They have hot drinks and…”

“You seek to trick me,” the thestral hissed, reaching for the knife, “…don’t you…”

Thorn’s mind emptied of all extraneous thought - focussing, channelling his strength and his movements. His eyes never left the warrior before him as the green thestral picked up the knife in his forehooves, settling back onto his hind legs in the classic fighting stance with smoke curling up from his muzzle.

“Don’t do this.” Thorn said quietly.

The other warrior blinked, his expression changing for just the briefest of moments, as though another personality, the other self, was still there below the surface. A heartbeat later, he charged.

Thorn was waiting, his axe twisting, snaking through the air and impacting with the crazed thestral’s forehooves. The knife spiralled away as the warrior shrieked in pain and rage before the axe completed its arc, smashing into the side of his head with a sickening crack. The Major leaned down and checked the down green warrior’s body…he was alive.

“Major?” Several of the guards had appeared, “We heard shouting.”

The Major nodded towards the green thestral, “Haj. Have him bound and put in one of the carts.” He glanced down at the mare, “And send for the orderlies.”

“By your command.”

A light groan caught the Major’s attention; the mare was apparently still alive. He leaned down, checking her for signs of injury, but with all that long hair it was hard to see. Strangely enough, she didn’t smell as he’d expected. Rather than the matted, reeking things many of the warriors believed them to be, she had a delicate floral scent that reached out and tickled his nose - interesting. She certainly had a nasty cut across her neck though, no doubt caused by the long knife the green thestral had been wielding. Fortunately, the blood wasn’t pumping out and it looked to be conjealing already. She’d been lucky. They both had. With luck she would make a full recovery; as for the green thestral – that was less likely…

“Sir?” The orderlies arrived and quickly checked over the mare and in short order had her on a stretcher, “We’ll take her back to the surgeon.”

Thorn nodded, reaching down and collecting the discarded knife after first wiping the blood off its long blade. It was a vicious weapon, more like something he’d expect for fishing or in a kitchen than for killing. He slipping it into his belt and began walking back towards the column. He may be able to see about getting a scabbard for it later, or maybe he’d barter it away for some tobacco. Smiling wryly to himself, he gave his mane a shake and imagined the aroma of proper tobacco from the Beyond - from home. The knife should fetch him a goodly amount, and would finally serve a more fitting purpose than it had been put to this night. Speaking of which, a few more hours sleep would be just what he needed.

Morning came all too soon…again. Goddess damn it! When was he going to finally get some sleep? He’d been restless, waking up again and again to go to relieve himself in the bushes. At one point he’d even thought of just pissing behind the tree he was sleeping against just to avoid having to walk too far away, but ‘hygiene was a soldiers ally’, as his father had always taught him. His father…by the Goddess, what a time to think of that. Still, at least the breakfast griffin was doing the rounds and heading his way. The mangy looking beast bore more than a few scars himself and looked like he’d done more than his fair share of fighting over the years. What the creature was doing here was probably down to either money or the lure of the Goddess. Some griffins had values other than just money of course, but reputations had a habit of sticking. Thorn fished out his mess pail and duly, the familiar foisty smelling broth was dumped in with as little ceremony as he’d expected. The beast was walking away from him already…

“Orderly?”

The griffin turned to face him, “Sir?”

“How is the mare?” Thorn asked.

“She’ll live.” The feathered creature replied in a disinterested tone, “Sir.”

Thorn bobbed his head and the griffin walked away to continue his rounds. Barely anyone spoke, and even the orderlies themselves looked as if they’d lost heart in their work. The Major sighed and look about him: it was a column of despondency and despair, with an emptiness of hope where only the mad had any life about them. By the Goddess he wanted to just get his gear and walk back on his own, but the weakness, the hollow feeling within him, was never far away and always ready to remind him was still sick. He’d certainly lost weight, his bones were showing more than ever, and he wondered how he must look now. A puddle nearby looked clean enough to hold a reflection, but what he saw…Thorn closed his eyes and sighed. He looked…thin, pale and drawn. Thestrals already looked like skeletons compared to ponies - a disturbing comparison that he had noticed almost the moment he arrived in Equestria. The warriors had terrified the Equestrians with their alien appearance, and yet in some strange way, the ponies had a similar effect on the thestrals: their big eyes, their stocky bodies and…he shuddered - that way they had of looking right into your soul…

A voice from the back of the nearest cart caught his attention. It was the green thestral, bandaged and securely tied and muzzled. The last thing they needed was that fellow going on the rampage, but with any luck the healers would be able to help him. Horribly, he doubted it. He’d seen the effects of Haj all too often, and that damned fool Rend had taken its use to a whole new level. Thorn shook his head before taking a mouthful of the ‘something’ that was lurking in his mess pail; in his own minds eye, he could still see Rend, the way he’d stared at him, the way he’d lost all sense of reality, pride and honour. It was a terrible end for a warrior…terrible. He couldn’t remember much after he’d been wounded, but the soul wrenching screams of anguish from the white alicorn Princess would haunt him until his dying day.

“Kill…you…kill…all must…die…”

“Somebody shut him up for the Goddess’s sake!”

“Should have him put down. Look at the state of him, he’s finished anyway.”

The voices washed over Thorn as he finished his breakfast. There was a stream nearby, he’d use that to wash his pail and have his ablutions before they started to move again. Better still, he could get away from the crazed green thestral. Guiltily, he wondered whether it really would have been a mercy to have sent the warrior to the next world and save him suffering in this one. Perhaps sometimes…mercy could only breed more pain.

“…his whole flight.”

“All of them?”

“Uh-huh, every one. Dead to the last.”

“Dear Goddess.”

“Lost his sister too. I never did agree with serving with your family, it’s a bad idea, I said, a bad…”

Thorn walked away. He didn’t want hear any more, all he wanted was...what? He didn’t know any more, his mind was a muddle of images from the human world, from his world, from this world, all of it spinning and whirling in a confusing mass of…A wave of nausea hit him, taking him off balance and into the side of the cart. He gasped in a breath, fighting back the urge to vomit, closing his eyes against the hot waves that flooded his body, making him break out in a sweat.

Suddenly, above him, the muzzled head of the wild eyed green thestral appeared, his teeth glinting in the early morning light,

“She’ll come for you…she’s coming for all of us.” He began to cackle madly before breaking into a tuneless song, “All of us, one and all! One and all! ONE AND ALL!”

“Shut up, you damned fool!” One of the warriors shouted out.

“She’ll slit your throat with her silver tongue, and drink your blood like finest wine. She’ll dance on the dead and sing to her Goddess of the death that she has wrought.” The green thestral’s eyes burned intensely, “Don’t you see? Can’t you understand? You’re all going to die!”

One of the warriors rose angrily to his hooves, “I’ll send you to the afterlife first you damned…”

Two of his comrades caught hold of him and pulled him back down before things got too out of hoof. Thorn ignored him, taking out his canteen and took a mouthful of water before pouring the rest over his head. With a shake of his mane, he walked away, the green thestral’s words whispering out behind him,

“She’s coming for you…she’s seen you, you know her secret…and for that…you’ll die…”

The Major wrapped himself back up in his cloak and shivered against the chill morning air. Despite his cloak, despite even the bedding, the air here felt colder than ever.

**********************

“Hoy, Dray!”

The General shook his head and smiled helplessly; Harrier just had that sort of effect. Others might disapprove of the forward little pegasi’s mannerisms, but she was a damned good officer and one of the best fliers they had. She, no doubt, would say ‘the’ best.

“Harrier.” Dray nodded.

“We’re going to have to shift flank to get there and do what we need to do.” The pegasus began, “That lot are going to hit us like a bloody tidal wave.” She gave her wings a shake and effortlessly jumped into the air for emphasis, “The ground’s black with them, General, and they got they’ve got the whole shebang with them this time: griffins, thestrals, minotaurs, dragons and ponies. The crap’s really going to hit the fan.”

“Thank you for that enlightening report.” Wild sighed, walking up to them, “Perhaps you could show us on the map?”

Harrier rolled her eyes, “Well, duh! I going to do that already. Here…” she passed Wild a scroll, snatching it away as the Major reached for it, “whoops!” with a deft flick, it landed in the outstretched hooves of the General. “Sorry about that Wild!” Harrier chuckled, “Guess you got outranked eh?” The Major could feel her eye twitching already. That bloody infuriating mare!

The General studied the map, peering at the symbols, number and directions plotted with Harrier’s customary precision. He didn’t need to ask for clarity, it was all here, layed out as clear as day. They had to move, and fast. He had to prepare the ground, he had to have the time to do all he could to save as many lives as he could and still carry the day. They could do this…they could! He rolled up the scroll,

“Harrier, you have your orders, but remember…”

“-Yeah, yeah, I know already!” the mare clucked her tongue, “Flexibility and the freedom to adapt to a changing situation.” She smiled, “Good to see you trust me still.”

“I never doubted you or those under your command, Harrier.” Dray said knocking back his brandy in one mouthful, “You will be our eyes, our ears, and the arrow we loose from the bow. You have your other orders?”

“Naturally.” Harrier smiled, “It’s in the bag.”

Dray dismissed her with a salute and the pegasus blasted off into the sky with her Lieutenants.

“Don’t say it.” Dray said, walking past Wild, “You always do.”

“If it were anypony else…” The Major shook her head in exasperation, “You do indulge her, you know.”

The General took out his pipe and started to pack it with tobacco, “Because she’s the best, Heather, that’s why.” He looked up at her with a distant smile, “Equestria needs the best. I do too.”

Wild nodded solemnly, “I know.” She lifted a sheath of papers, “Looks like the old gang’s back together: Spoon, Pine, Harrier…us.” She cleared her throat, “I’ve missed you, you know. With everything that’s been going on, its been hard to find time to spend together.”

Dray took a draw on his pipe, letting the smoke waft up into the roof of the tent, “I know; sometimes I feel like I’ve not slept for months. Celestia’s backside, I should have been doing more, not bloody paperwork.”

“You had clerks.”

“I know…” Dray waved his hoof dismissively, “but you know what they’re like. If they’d missed something important…”

“Huh!” Wild snorted, “I know what you’re like, you like to micromanage everything!”

“I cannot afford to leave anything to chance, Heather, not now.” The General shook his head, “We don’t have time anyway, and cock ups cost lives.”

“Another Dray-ism?” she asked.

“Absolutely.” Dray smiled.

“It’s a few hours before dawn.” The red mare noted, peering out of the tent flap, “I think we can get a few hours sleep before we have to get up.”

“You sleep, Heather” Dray replied kindly, “I want to have a think.”

“You need sleep, Dray.” She said placing her hoof on his shoulder, “Don’t be long.”

“Mmhmm”, the General smiled up at her before returning to study the map.

The distribution of troops was right, the commands issued, the plans in place. He yawned; if it all went according to plan, they should arrive at River Valley ridge in two days, and then, that was when the real work started. They would…they would have to…He yawned again. Damn it…

The big stallion stretched his legs and got up, putting away his pipe, brandy cups, and gave his face a quick wipe with a damp flannel. His eyes felt sore, his body worn out from years of this sort of hard living. Not that long ago he’d thought he’d put all of this behind him, leaving the whole damned mess of dealing with reports, problems, troop movements, leave requests… So much for retirement! Still, he thought to himself heading for his bedding roll, they were heading for the finale at long last and they were in the best shape they’d been in since Ochre tried to kill them all with his stu-…wha…?! A large red lump was half stretched over his bedding, long legs lounging out and mouth hanging open with a gentle snoring emanating from within. Dray rolled his eyes and gave her a prod,

“Heather? Heather, shift over will you?”

“Hmmphhh.”

“Heather...”

She was completely unresponsive. Dray sighed, what could he do? He chuckled, returning to his chair and collected his cloak. Reaching down, he brushed Wild’s bottle green mane away from her mouth - it was already soaked in drool. It was funny, she was so different to Honey, so much more…’soldierly’. She farted, burped, swore and could fight with the best of them; she almost had as many scars as he did too, and that was saying something! Wild was also, well…how could he put it? Huge. For a mare, she was big, and damned powerful too. She shivered slightly under his touch, murmuring incromprehensibly. With a smile and shake of his head, Dray flicked out his cloak and lay it across her, tucking her in.

A hoof reached out and caught him,

“Dray…?”

The General looked down into a pair of sleepy jade eyes, “It’s alright, Heather, you get back to sleep.”

She shook her head slightly, “It’s your bed, I’ll move.”

“Don’t you dare!” He admonished gently, “Come on now,” he patted her hoof, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She clung on, “Dray…please.” She gazed up at him, “This battle, I may not…if I don’t…you know…”

“Don’t Heather, please.” The grey stallion shook his head, “Don’t talk like this.”

“No.” she sank back onto her pillow, “No, I shouldn’t. But, I…I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll be right here.” Dray said softly.

The cloak lifted up, “It’s warmer together.” Wild’s eyes glistened, “I won’t bite.”

Dray rolled his eyes, “Are you sure?”

“Promise!” Wild chuckled, “Anyway, we’ve slept together before, haven’t we?” She stretched her legs with a smile, “We’re comrades, out in the field, in the freezing cold. It only makes sense to share our warmth.”

Wild smiled as the grey earth stallion snuck under the cloak and blankets, keeping an annoyingly ‘respectful’ distance from her. She’d soon see to that nonsense: a few surreptitious pulls and pushes later, the Major had manouever herself up against the back of her…friend.

“Your back’s freezing.” She murmured.

Dray said nothing.

Pressing herself up against him, Wild draped her legs around him, feeling his warmth against her body and sighed softy,

“Goodnight General.” She whispered.

Dray was already sound asleep. He’d been working around the clock, organising, planning, there just didn’t seem to be any end to it. But now, the acid test for all that work was at hoof, and the Goddesses help them if they were wrong. Wild watched his chest rising and falling rhythmically, his breath slowing as he slept. At least he wasn’t shouting out in his sleep anymore; those awful cries - she shivered. She’d never forget the words, the way he called out to his wife and children as though they were far away and he was trying to reach them. Wild kissed the General’s mane and let herself begin to drift off to sleep beside him. She loved him, but all she could be for him now was a friend. Perhaps one day, the awful memories and ghosts of his past would begin to relinquish their hold on him, but that thought was for another day…another time…

************************

Bugle calls were never a good way to wake up.

“Wha? Damn it!” Dray hauled himself to hooves, staggering slightly as he got his bearings, “Buck me! What time…Heather?”

“Morning sleepy, here’s breakfast and a cuppa.” The big red mare passed him a sandwich and a mug of hot sweet tea.

Dray groaned, rubbing his eyes, “Bloody hell, i’ve overslept. I needed to sort out…”

“-It’s done,” Wild cut in, “and you’ve not overslept, it’s only five in the morning.”

She was right. This time of year it was always so bloody dark. Dark in the morning, dark in afternoon, and it was just what those bloody thestrals needed wasn’t it? Thank the Goddesses they’d managed to…

“Oh!” Dray stared down at the sandwich, “Heather…this is…”

Flavour hit him like a flashfire, the tea just seeming to emphasise the taste as well, warming him and lifting his spirits far more than the usual army rations would. He gave her a quizzical look.

“I’m not just a pretty face.” The red mare said with a chuckle, “It’s haybacon, sweetcured and with a hint of salt to season it. Folks back home make it; they’re thinking of marketing it across Equestria some day.”

“It’s…wonderful.” Dray said taking another bite with an almost dreamy look on his face, “You’re a marvel.”

“Ha!” Wild snorted, “Compliments from the General! Is there a medal for breakfast making?”

Dray laughed, “There should be!”

All too soon, the bacon and tea were finished, and only the wonderful aroma remained. Just then a familiar face peeked around the corner of the tent,

“Begging the General’s pardon, Sir, Colonel Spoon sends her regards and wishes to inform you that the supplies you requested have arrived from the castle.”

Dray smiled, “Excellent! Thanks Chipper.”

The short stallion in the entrance saluted, “Very good, sir.”

“Chipper? Just a second…” Dray turned to Wild, “Heather, do we have enough for a spare?”

He poured out a cup of tea and hoofed it to his long time aide while the Major passed him the last sandwich. Chipper groaned in pleasure, quickly casting the two officers an apologetic look, and much to Wild’s amusement.

“Good?” she chuckled.

“Yes! Yes indeed!” Chipper dabbed at his mouth with a hankie, “My compliments to the chef, Major.”

Dray gave his face a wash with the flannel while speaking to his old friend, “What’s the word around camp, Chips, you’ve got your ear to the ground with the troops.”

“I’d say, the feeling is positive, sir, very much so.” The diminutive stallion took a sip of his tea, “There was a lot of uncertainty at first, especially when word of our destination got round, but the boys and girls are spoiling for a chance to wallop those beggars back to…” he waved a hoof, “Wherever it is they come from.”

“The ‘Wither World’ apparently” Wild said. She began to attack her mane with a stiff hair brushing, “Not a nice place I’d guess, if they’re so hell bent on pinching our home.”

“What about the young ones?” Dray asked.

“Keen, but not as they were…before, sir.” Chipper nodded sadly, “They’re distributed amongst the veterans as you requested and the buddying system seems to be working very well in fact.”

That had been the idea of Lieutenant Sands; she had an uncanny knack of making ponies listen to her, young ones especially. Rumour had it that she used to be a teacher before the war and that her whole family had been involved in education in one form or another. Sands had apparently joined with the intention of ‘breaking the mold’, and found herself, as they all had, fighting for her life at River Valley. Whatever the truth actually was, she was a damned good officer and Dray had put her in charge of recruiting. Her idea had been to pair up new recruits with veterans and have the two do everything together: eat, sleep, training, sparring - it had worked surprisingly well despite his reservations. Wild had been concerned that they would effectively ‘dilute’ the army, reducing the veteran divisions with poorer, untrained troops. Of course, this would be true to some degree, but due to heavy casualties several of the divisions now existed mostly on paper and would have been disbanded other than for the influx of new blood. The veterans had been delighted to be able to remain with their old formations and took to training the new ones with, if not exactly ‘enthusiasm’, then at least professionalism. They wanted to win…they thirsted for it. Soon they would be at River Valley once again, and all their work and Sands’ efforts would be put to the ultimate test. Whether they could remain standing in the crucible of war however, remained to be seen, but this was the best chance they had of taking back their home.

All around the camp ponies were moving, the sound a continuous cacophony of clattering, shouting and banging that had never changed in all the years Dray had been in the army. In some small way the familiar noise was almost comforting, but it was what it heralded that buzzed at the corners of his mind, and no doubt that of others who had fought before. Many of these ponies here had never seen battle before, but now could draw courage and confidence from their more experienced comrades. There would be no repeat of what had happened last time. Chipper helped buckle on his sword and packs, cloak and marching boots. Turning to Heather, the mare smiled at him, nodding her approval. With a determination he felt both in his heart and his body, the General strode out into the fresh morning air to face another day on the road.

Marching; it never changes. Mile after mile of slogging through a mixture of frozen ground and mud might seem like sompony’s idea of fun, but there would be few who would agree that pushing yourself to your physical limits and beyond, to the point where your body screamed at you to stop, where your head span and your stomach clenched, was anything but bordering on madness. If this was indeed madness, Dray thought to himself, then they were all deranged…but they’d done it. Days on the road, day and night, tired, physically exhausted and mentally drained - they’d done it. Some, the younger ones unused to the military diet and physical exertion, had been put on the supply wagons until they recovered. Others, the ones used to hard physical work such as farmers and labourers, had fared much better, but it was the veterans, the old hooves, that really drove them on. The old songs had come out too, adding a cadence to their step and a lift to their spirits. The words were familiar, the bawdiness and crude sexual references of many of them just as cringeworthy as they ever had been. Those who didn’t know the words would join in the chorus, even the officers. But now, it was over…

They were here.

A familiar pegasus mare burst from a cloud and flared her wings before coming in to land in front of the General’s party. A halt was ordered, and almost immediately pipes appeared and ponies fell out to the sides of the road to catch their breath and stretch.

“Area’s clear, General Dray.” Harrier said, snapping off a salute, “Our boys are keeping the skies under observation, but we’re keeping to the clouds in case any of the other team decide to wander this way.”

“We’ll be posting forward observers on the far side of the forest” Dray replied, “That way we’ll give ourselves a little breathing room.” He took a deep breath and took her to one side out of earshot of the others, “Harrier, are there any…remains?”

The pegasus shook her head and closed her eyes a moment, “No, none. You’d think nothing had ever happened here. The forest is still a little blackened in places, but for the most part nature’s healed herself of the mess we made of it.” She looked away, a wistful expression crossing her face, “Do you think…they buried them?”

“Maybe” Dray replied, “Honestly, I don’t know. It feels like a lifetime ago I was here last, but…” he sighed, “I don’t want to think about it. Come on,” he clopped her on the shoulder, “let’s get this over with.”

“Aye.” Harrier nodded to him, “Back to work.”

Almost immediately, the troops and engineers went to work. Shovels and picks dug the frozen earth while saws bit through wood and axes cut through trees. Dray was impressed; the troops, both old and new, worked in near silence, a sense of determination emanating from them that was inspirational to see. Officers and non-commissioned officers guided and directed while the engineers discussed their plans. He felt a sudden wave of nostalgia, and also wistfulness as the same time; one day, if he lived to tell the tale, his soldiering days would be over, and all of…this…would be over: the sounds, the smells, the spectacle of ponies in armour, the snapping of banners and the rattle of steel. It seemed a shame somehow, like a piece of his life would simply cease to be, consigned to memory and a hoofnote in some foal’s school book - if they even bothered recording it at all. History was a fickle thing and more often than not ‘sanitised’, or amended to show a skewed view of reality that was more in line with what the rulers wanted their subjects to believe. After all, nopony ever went to war believing the gods did not favour them, and the same was probably true regarding the Legion. He took out his telescope and scanned the horizon over the top of the forest in the valley. Sure enough, just as Harrier had said, It still showed signs of blackening from the fires. One day he would have to answer to the Goddesses for that, and he would tell them the truth: that they were all a bunch of bas-…

“Dray?” A large red muzzle appeared in front of him, “Are you alright?”

The grey stallion laughed, “Why wouldn’t I be, Major?”

“You looked like you were miles away.” Wild said, furrowing her brow in consternation.

“Perhaps…” Dray shrugged, “I’m just wondering how I’ll put this in my memoirs. What should we call it? The ‘Second Battle of River Valley’? how about, ‘The Battle of the Ridge Line’?”

“Getting a bit ahead ourselves a little aren’t we?” Wild chuckled, “We have to kick the crap out of the enemy first.”

“Pfff!” The General laughed, smiling at several of the soldiers nearby who salute him smartly, “Don’t sweat the details, Heather. Can’t you see it? You can feel it all around you: in the air, in the ground and in the grass.” He leaned down and tore a hank grass out and munched on it, drawing the stares of more than a few, “This…” he said turning to them, “This is what we are fighting for: the food we eat, the air we breath and the ground beneath our hooves. This is Equestria, the land where the grass grows as sweet as honey and the water as clear as the purest crystal…” He lifted his voice - more were coming now, “This is my home, it is your home, and it is the home of our children and their children, and it was here, on this ground, where so many of our brothers and sisters shed their blood to defend it…for us…FOR ALL OF US!” Dray took our his sword and drove it into the ground, making several jump back in surprise, “This is my country, this sword is my banner and I will NOT retreat, I will NOT run! Soon, we shall face our enemy and we shall drive their black hearts from our land and bring back the light of hope and joy to our home.” He reared, his eyes flashing in the sunlight, “This…THIS IS WHY WE FIGHT!”

Hooves began to pound the ground, slowly at first and then faster, harder, until the whole ridge rumbled with a great wall of sound. Dray smiled, it would be a good day.

They were going to win.

****************************

The Colonel stared at his map and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It was as he expected…and feared; they’d positioned themselves on the same ridgeline they’d held last time and they were just sitting there…waiting. Silently, he cursed his luck. The Goddess had ignored his concerns as being completely unfounded and had instead insisted on meeting the enemy here, to ‘crush them once and for all’, which would, ‘send a message to the whole of Equestria about the futility of standing against her’. Questioning her, or contradicting her would have been a death sentence. He had no doubt the Celestians had prepared their defences well, his scouts had manage to tell him that much - those that had survived at any rate. More troubling were the rumours about dragons, and their involvement in the coming battle. He had no fondness for the beasts, but he had to admire their power and brutality and Etrida and her clan would be more than a match for anything the mongrel horde the Princess of the sun could conjure up. Maroc was here too; that pretentious arse wouldn’t miss a fight if his life depended on it, and he’d even brought his wife too: the lady Arathea. He had to admit, she was a fine creature, even if she was one of those demon spawned things.

A frontal attack from the forest and up the ridge line…Inwardly he sighed; many of his people would die here this day. Around him, his officers doubtless shared the same concerns, but of course, avoided voicing any criticism of the Goddess.

“He’s dug in like a flea on a minotaurs back.” The Wing Leader announced, “I doubt we’ll budge him without a full on frontal assault. Nothing piecemeal, the full power of the army, all at once.” He motioned towards the tops of the flags on the ridge, “Their flanks are protected by the forest vegetation and it would take hours to try to get around him.” He lowered his telescope.

“They’ve a good amount of fliers,” another observed, “so they’d likely get wind of any attempts to outflank them.”

“We could besiege them, lock them in there like a rat in a trap and…”

“-No.” Fulminata rolled up his map and stretched his legs and wings, “The Goddess has made her decision. We attack head on.”

Dunn shook his head, “No good, Colonel. Ponies up hill and ready”.

Bale walked up beside Fuminata, his voice low “It’s a bad position, sir. They’ll throw everything at us and we’ll be hemmed in by the terrain.” The Colonel didn’t reply.

“What about our artillery support?” one asked.

The Wing Leader replied, “We’re having to cut through the forest to bring them up to range. We can’t risk a repeat of what happened last time.”

‘Last time…’ The Colonel took a deep breath. This was going to be costly, but with full dragon and artillery support, they could wear the defenders down to the point where there would be only token resistance to their assault.

“Return to your divisions gentlecolts, your orders will be delivered shortly.”

The officers all left with the exception of the Wing Leader,

“It’s a damned shame Thorn isn’t here,” he said, “he would have been useful fellow to have on hoof.”

Fulminata shrugged, “The Goddess’ ways are mysterious, my friend. Now…” he lifted his telescope, “all we need to do is wait until our artillery is in position and await Her Divinity’s command.”

A heavily scarred griffin flew towards them and landed with a thud on the muddied ground, “Bloody awful going, Colonel” he said scratching his neck, “Had a few skirmishers taking pot shots at our boys, but they’ve been dealt with.”

“Progress?”

“We’ll be ready within the hour.” The griffin replied gruffly, “Any news on our supplies?”

Fulminata shook his head, “We’re bringing up what we have.”

The griffin raised an eyebrow watching the thestral with a large golden eye and suddenly cackled loudly, “We’ll manage, Colonel, don’t you worry. Just keep their flying pests off our backs and we’ll blow the crap out of our Celestian friends.”

The rumble of hooves behind them was getting nearer.

“Looks live you’ve got company, Colonel.” The griffin noted casually.

A familiar slim warrior appeared and saluted with a hoof to his chest, “Colonel, Her Divine Majesty has arrived.”

The old griffin snorted, “Time for me to bugger off then! Good luck, Colonel.” With a beat of his wings the veteran Master at Arms lumbered into the air and began a glide back down the slope towards the forest road. Fulminata shook his head and barked out a laugh,

“You think he knows something we don’t?” he turned back to his aide, “Lead the way Edge. Bale? Take care of things here until I return.”

The officers saluted and parted company; It didn’t do to keep the Goddess waiting.
Nightmare Moon’s tent was on the top of the valley, overlooking the site of the last battle in this inauspicious place. They’d put it up in anticipation of her arrival and, sure enough, there were the guards in their royal livery flanking the entrance and the dark purple banners snapping in the cold breeze. A thestral mare in a white dress bobbed her head as he approached,

“This way please, Colonel. Her divine majesty is awaiting your attendance.”

Inside, the tent was just the same as it always was: warm, delicately scented, and dark. Despite the temperature, a feeling of cold dread, but also of anticipation, thrummed through Fulminata whenever he was to meet the Goddess. She was a terrifying creature, but one all her warriors loved as though she were their own mare - although such matters were, naturally, never discussed openly. Nightmare Moon could, and did, visit them in their dreams, whispering of their deeds to come, and to those who had pleased her, there were rewards beyond any worldly wealth.

A black earth pony with grey eyes and a black mane met him with a nod of his head. The look in that Equestrian’s eyes made his hackles go up. How dare he! Looking at him as if he were an equal! Who was this? He looked…familiar. The pony stepped back, sweeping open the long beaded curtain to the chamber beyond. Within, the Goddess was waiting.

Fuminata entered, casting a quick glance at the black earth pony as he passed. That cutie mark…a white lightning bolt. So, he had been marked by the spirits had he? Dear Goddess…nobody deserved that. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer for the stallion; it was all he could do.

“Fulmin,” Nightmare Moon stretched out a foreleg for him, “it is good to see you again.”

The Colonel hesitated before bowing and kissing her hoof, “Your Divine Majesty.”

“Our forces are ready?” she asked calmly.

“Within the hour, Your Divinity.” Fulminata kept his eyes lowered, “The Celestians are dug in and prepared on the ridge, but there has been no sign of Celestia.”

The midnight coated mare stretched her legs languorously and gave her mane a shake, sending the stars within its smoky like mass swirling and tumbling through the void. She fixed him with a large azure eye,

“She shall be here, Fulmin,” she smiled, “I have no doubt about that.”

There was something different about the Goddess today, something Fulminata couldn’t quite put his hoof on. She looked the same, sounded the…no…no she didn’t! She sounded ‘softer’…gentler somehow - even the words she chose... He dared to glance across at the black stallion who was sitting patiently nearby. The pony was watching him like a cat watching a mouse, a hidden strength lying within that outwardly placid surface - and those eyes!

“You have met my aide?” The Goddess asked taking a sip of her wine.

Damn it! She’d caught him looking. The Colonel cleared his throat, “Forgive me, Your Divinity, I thought I had met your…aide before.”

The Goddess waved a hoof at the black stallion, “Introduce yourself.”

“I am Moonlight, aide to her Divine Majesty, Nightmare Moon.” The pony said levelly.

The Colonel nodded to him.

“Colonel, I shall be with you shortly.” Nightmare Moon announced, “We shall put down this rebellion and restore order - at the point of a sword if necessary. Those who defy us are to be…eliminated.”

Fulminata bowed, the image of a hungry dragon suddenly materialising in his mind making his throat go dry,

“By your divine guidance.”

“Yes…” the Goddess replied raising an eyebrow, “It is. Leave us.”

The Colonel kept his head low and backed out of Nightmare Moon’s chamber.

Fire crackled in the brazier, reflecting off the silver wine goblet held in the Goddess’s magic. So…here they were again. All the roads with all their divergences lead inexorably to this: the place where it all began, and where it should have ended. This was wrong, all of it was wrong. Celestia had fled the field, the enemy forces had been routed and their new leader surrendered the country, and yet here they were again! Nightmare Moon could feel her chest tightening at the mere thought of it, that…that…

“Majesty?” Bracken lifted a hoof, helping adjust her armour, “Is everything alright?”

The midnight mare gritted her teeth and gave herself a shake to help settle the black and silver plates that lay across her back and neck. He meant well, in fact, he did well. Everything he did made her feel…Damn it, she didn’t have time for this! But…

“Thank you, Bracken.” She said in a voice a lot calmer than she felt, “I want this over and done with quickly so we can begin to rebuild Equestria the way it should have been right from the beginning.”

The black stallion remained quiet.

One piece after another, the engraved armour was strapped and buckled into position, the earth stallion’s hooves and mouth working with surprising dexterity for a non-magical creature. He’d been what, a blacksmith? A metal worker? She would need to spend much more time with him after this getting to know him better, to understand him…thoroughly. She’d seen his dreams of course, reading his mind and emotions like an open book. Inevitably, some ‘adaptations’ had been made, but that was…natural. In a way she hated it, but the result was standing before her, and he…did he…love her? She wanted to hear it from him, she needed to hear it. So many of her subjects thought it, even felt it in their hearts, but it never quite seemed sincere; more ‘a requirement’ than anything else. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as the last piece of armour was attached,

“Bracken…” she murmured.

He hadn’t heard her, “All done, You Majesty.” The black stallion stood back, checking all was as it should be and nodded his head solemnly, “How does it feel?”

“It feels…” Nightmare Moon said distractedly, “Yes…”

“Your Majesty?”

She turned back to him, “Bracken, I want to hear…” she shuddered, looking towards the door and the large battle scythe beside it, the daylight making its sharp edge glow. Something brushed up against her cheek making her close her eyes and groan.

“I don’t need to say it, do I?” he asked softly.

“No…” The Goddess replied, “But I want you to.”

Bracken gave a sad smile, “I love you.”

Nightmare Moon moved to embrace him and paused. With the armour on, she could hurt him, but there was something she could do. She reached down and kissed him,

“I know.”

The Goddess of the night pulled him towards her, gently, feeling his warmth against her cheek and smiled,

“Stay here, and stay safe. I’ll be back soon.”

A black coated foreleg reached out blocking her passage, “Majesty, I want to fight beside you.”

The Goddess shook her head; he looked so sincere! “You have wings now?” she chuckled, “No. The enemy may target you, which is why, my dearest Bracken, that to the rest of the world, at least for now, you are ‘Moonlight’, personal aide to Nightmare Moon.” She stood back and raised an eyebrow, stroking his hair, “I do prefer your natural blue mane and tail, but the dye will grow out soon enough.” Yes…soon enough, she thought to herself wanly, soon it would all be over and she, they, all of them, could have the world they should have had. The Goddess ruffled her wings and gave Bracken a knowing wink before walking out to meet her army.

He watched.

Bracken had seen this before; in another time, another place, and…another…mare? No… He sighed and took a breath, trying to clear his mind. The image of a grinning Chalky appeared in his minds eye as if trying to encourage him. Bracken smiled; he missed him - his cheeky and hopeless friend, the crazy white unicorn. Mind you, they were all a bit cracked; it must have been something to do with all that magic addling their brains. That had to be it - there was usually a logical answer to a problem if you just applied your mind to the task. Nightmare Moon however, was something of an exception to that rule. She was…well, who she was, he supposed. She was beautiful, magnificent and terrifying in equal measure. He loved her, and yet…he didn’t really know why. Did it matter? Did any of it matter? He’d lost…what was her name? Bracken shook his head and attacked the itch on his ear - why was he having so much trouble remembering things lately? Was he going senile already? He shrugged and returned to tidying the tent. The Celestians would be relegated to a footnote in history soon enough, and become little more than a distant memory of a time that seemed almost like a dream. His time in the army, the ponies he’d met - they all felt as if they’d happened to somepony else in a different world. Bracken poured himself a glass of water,

“Come on, ‘Moonlight’” he said to himself shaking his mane, “There’s tidying to do.”

The thestral maids would have done it, certainly, but there was nothing quite like the personal touch. Nightmare Moon’s scent too…it lingered on the cushions, on the chaise longue and in the very air. He loved her, he needed her, and he would be here to welcome her home with a smile when she returned; even if it was a tent. He smiled to himself - no, it wouldn’t be long.

**********************

The Princess’s gold shod hooves clacked on the stone steps, echoing off the cold walls and sounded unnaturally loud even to her. Her armour felt…strange. She hadn’t worn it since she’d last seen Rush, and it had brought back a flood of emotion. She felt sorry for her maid too. Poor Lilly, she had barely said a single word; instead she’d simply smiled, holding each piece of the armour in place as she clipped, strapped and buckled it on. Of course, Celestia could have done it herself, but she wanted the closeness of another pony, somepony who understood her. Lilly was the nearest she had to that: a friend, a confidant, but even she didn’t know about Rush…nopony could…not yet. In some ways she was glad he wasn’t here; nopony should have to experience, let alone see, the horrors that were about to be unleashed - horrors that monster Nightmare Moon had brought to her homeland.

Lilly had looked at her, her large eyes so full of sadness to see her Princess leave, perhaps, for the last time. She’d tried to hide it from her, but Celestia had known, she’d seen the orange mare weeping silently as the alicorn had kissed her gently on the forehead. Celestia closed her eyes a moment and calmed her heart. She had to win this, they had to win this, so there would be no more tears of anguish and pain in this once beautiful land. But what of her? Who cared about the white alicorn Princess? Who knew her heart, truly? There was one…but he was so far away from here it felt like the memory of a dream. Oh, how she longed to hold him now, to hear his voice once more and simply…talk. She was lonely…she knew that, she had known it for such a long time, despite the smiles and happy waving of her people. They all saw her as the immortal Princess of the sun, never seeing the mare beneath, the mare who felt happiness, sorrow, joy and pain as much as any of them. Perhaps…even more. Their lives came and went so quickly, so brief, like a mayfly flitting across the surface of a pond looking for a mate…only to die. Rush would die too…one day. She felt a single tear roll down her cheek; who would ever truly understand her heart? Who could?

The weight of her duty, her responsibility was like a millstone, making even the armour feel heavier than ever. Thank the Gods there was at least a glimmer of hope, even if it was only the tiniest of sparks, and that spark lay beyond the large heavy oak door with its black iron furniture. The guards were still here, no doubt anxious to be in the fight with their brothers and sisters, especially with the castle now all but empty. It was a blessing in some respects that at least these two would be spared. Unless…

The guards snapped to attention at her approach.

“Just a minute!” Starswirl’s muffled voice called through the door at the Princess’s knock. “Alright, you can come in now.”

Celestia pushed open the heavy door to…absolute chaos. Bottle, jars, wires and equipment of every size and shape, filled the room to bursting. In the middle of it all stood a bedraggled and excited looking grey unicorn with a pipe sticking out of the corner of his mouth.

“Princess!” Starswirl waved a hoof as he jumped up from behind a pile of books, “So good to see you! I’ll be with you as soon as i…bugger!”

The enigmatic mage squeezed and heaved himself between masses of, what the Princess could only describe as ‘junk’, tripping and cursing as he came. Finally, with a huff and a quick brush of his straggly beard, the mage stood before her with a broad grin on his face.

Celestia’s nose wrinkled up as a foul odour assailed her.

He stank.

“Master Starswirl,” The Princess said, lifting a hoof to her nose, “forgive me, but…how long have you been in here?”

The unicorn shrugged, “A few days…a week maybe.” He lifted his cape and sniffed at it, “Ah…” he looked a little embarrassed, “Sorry about that. Just a mo…”

Celestia rolled her eyes as the bizarre creature vanished back into the warren of arcane items. A few moments later, she heard water splashing,

“Won’t be long!” he called, “Just having a freshen up. Feel free to have a look round if you fancy, but don’t touch anything!”

The Princess sighed, “Where’s Strata?”

“Eh?” The splashing water muffled the reply.

“I said where’s Strata?” Celestia shouted, “He…he’s not in here somewhere is he?” Dear Gods, with all this clutter it was entirely possible!

“Oh goodness me, no!” The voice called back, “He’s gone off with his earth pony chum in their sky galleon on a trip somewhere. Asked me if I wanted him to stay of course, but I tend to work best alone, don’t you know.”

“And how is your work, Master Starswirl?” Celestia shouted, “Any progress?”

“Oh yes!” came the reply, “The library has been invaluable, invaluable!” the voice paused, “I have to say, there’s still a long way to go to fully understand it all, but I think we’re getting there.” A slightly damp grey figure re-emerged, rubbing himself down with a towel, “There we go - not so whiffy now, eh?”

“Um…no.” Celestia backed away a step, trying not to laugh at the sight of the bedraggled unicorn rubbing himself with a large towel.

“Well, we’ve found how the matrix can link to different places in Equestria…” he floated over a rather dried up looking sandwich and took a bite absently, “Mmph…and…” he swallowed, “this allows us to re-route the portal’s exit location to a pre-defined set of…” he wiped his muzzle.

“Starswirl?” the Princess cut in, “I know. You’ve done a wonderful job so far, but what of our special project?”

“Ah…well.” Starswirl looked a little sheepish all of a sudden, “I’m not sure about that.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well, you see, it’s because I don’t know the actual co-ordinates of where you exited.” He stuffed a corner of the towel in his ear, “This world you went to could be another planet or another dimension, and this portal can take you anywhere. Your spell, the one you used to escape, can take you literally anywhere too – the possible combinations are staggering”

Celestia’s heart sank, “So…it’s hopeless…”

“Oh, goodness, no!” Starswirl said suddenly, clopping a hoof on her armoured shoulder, “We must never give up. There are a lot more things I haven’t tried yet, including one I’m very excited about too!” he trotted over to a large glass and bronze dish that was itself attached to numerous gem studded boxes and…other things. “This is a scrying glass, usually used for observing places or events. Now…” he said munching down another piece of sandwich, “by re-routing the sub-ether cortex, I can…”

Celestia cleared her throat loudly.

“Oh…sorry.” Starswirl licked some crumbs from his mouth, “You see, if I had something that had some residue, a memory even, of the place you went, I should be able to place it in this device and find the co-ordinates through the trans-ether harmonic divinatory,” he motioned towards another assemblage of tubes and cables, “Some…um…assembly may be required.”

“So...” Celestia said raising an eyebrow, “If I’m following you, then…if you had something that was from that world, you could link our portal to that world?”

“Mmm, pretty much.” Starswirl said waving a hoof. He pushed his way over to the portal steps and looked up at it, calling back to her, “Stone remembers” he shouted back, “An earth pony told me that once. Load of old bollocks, I told him, but would you believe, the silly old bugger was on to something!” he tapped a book beside him, “Quite clever some of them. I may have to re-think what I’ve always thought about them, but…” he shrugged, “I can do that another day.”

Celestia’s heart surged, “Wait…so, If I found you this ‘something’, you could do this? You could actually open the portal?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Just like that?”

“Mmhmm” Starswirl brushed a few crumbs from his coat, “Ah, sod it! Cranberry’s a bugger to get out of…Argh!”

The Princess suddenly bore down on him, her wings flared and her eyes glowing brightly, “You can do this? You can open the portal to the human realm?”

“Well…er…yes,” Starswirl stammered looking up at her, “I should be able to, but it’s not going to take five minutes you know and I have a lot to do first. The apparatus needs calibrating and…”

Celestia felt a heat burning through her, her magic surging and all but singing in hope for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. Impulsively, she grabbed the unicorn and squeezed him to her chest,

“Oh, dear Master Starswirl…thank you…thank you!”

“Ah, yes, yes no trouble, Your Majesty, no trouble at all really.” The still damp and crumb covered unicorn looked up at the alicorn in embarrassment, his cheeks flushed, “Er…” he suddenly seemed to notice her for the first time, “Why are you wearing that?” he motioned towards her armour.

The Princess shook her head, “Because as you have your work to attend to, my dear unicorn, I have to attend to mine.” She smiled, “When I return, I shall have what it is you need. For now, please…” she waved a hoof, “continue.” She turned back to the door, “Oh…Starswirl?”

“Hmm?” he said, already muzzle deep in more work.

“Have you ever been in love?”

“Me?” he looked up suddenly, “No…not really, although, there have been mares…” he trailed off giving her a quizzical look, “Why?”

“Oh, no reason.” Celestia grinned, her cheeks flushing, “No reason at all.”

It was time to go, but at least now…now there was hope - not for her people this time…this was just for her. She smiled and bobbed her head to the wizard,

“Stay safe, Master Starswirl.”

There was no reply; Starswirl was already engrossed in tweaking instruments while muttering to himself. The Princess smiled and shook her head; he really was hopeless…and the best chance she had of bringing her lost pony home. She closed her eyes and gave herself a quick shake, feeling the weight of both the armour and her responsibility as leader of Equestria. Normally she paid such matters little heed, they were simply a part of who and what she was, but today, with the terrible conflict bearing down upon them all like some dread avalanche, the future held more than just pain and suffering…it held hope, and she would be damned before she saw it snuffed out by the likes of that demon from the Wither World. Celestia gritted her teeth, steeled her soul and strode out of the castle and into the waiting carriage. There was no ceremony, no fanfare nor waving crowds - no…now, it was time to go to work.

*************************

The young mare bowed low as the Princess passed her in the entrance, her blue and silver mane tied into neat plaits either side of her neck. She trotted over to one of the guards and smiled,

“Excuse me sir, I’m looking for my brother, Corporal Parity?”

“Parity?” the guard said scratching his chin, “Never ‘eard of ‘im.”

“Yes you have, numb nuts,” the taller guard replied, “he’s the one with the ear missing, you know…”

“Old one lug?” The guard laughed, “E’s down in the dungeons miss, you can’t go in there.” He shook his head and looked away, dismissing her.

“But sir,” the mare said plaintively, “I’ve brought him his dinner. Mum said he didn’t get fed well at the barracks and…”

The burly guard snorted, “Hah! You got that right! I wouldn’t feed that to pigs.”

“Tell you what miss,” the taller guard said, “leave it with us and we’ll make sure he gets it.”

“Oh sir!” the mare giggled, “You’d eat all my treats!”

“Hmm…” the burly guard said eyeing the mare lasciviously, “I’d rather eat you instead…”

She lifted a hoof to her mouth, flushing coyly and giggled, “Sir! Goodness, me! But…” she moved closer, looking up at him with her large orange eyes, “you’re such a big soldier and, you know, if we…did ‘that’…you would you let me see my brother, wouldn’t you?” she turned away shyly, flicking her tail provocatively.

“Damned straight!” the big guard nodded towards his colleague, “Slim, you look after things here, I’ll be back in a while. I have to give our guest the grand tour.”

“We’re supposed to be on guard, Figs!” the tall guard exclaimed irritably.

Figs just shrugged, “For bucks sake, she’s just dropping off cakes. Tell you what, I’ll frisk her first - would that satisfy you?”

Slim huffed, “Just get on with it, will you?” He looked away at the squeaks and giggles coming from the two and sighed as he leaned on his spear. It was bad enough being relegated to ‘rear echelon’ duty because they were considered too old to fight, but they still had a job to do. That said though, everypony was off fighting, so what would be the point of attacking the castle now?

“Nothing on her, Slim, just the cakes.” Figs reported.

The tall one clucked his tongue and rolled his eyes. It was always the same - they always went for the muscular types,

“Right…you two bugger off and have fun then, don’t mind me.”

“We won’t!” Figs laughed, trotting off down the corridor, his foreleg around the young mare.

Figs couldn’t believe his luck - what a catch! He’d always kept himself in trim of course, well…mostly, and this posting had been a nice final run up to retirement. Girls loved the uniform, and even though he may be past his youthful prime, the white coat and gold armour did it every time. With the castle all but empty, a quick bit of frolicking with the young mare would be just the ticket on a cold day. Nopony would care, they’d have done the same in his shoes he reasoned.

“In here, miss.” He smiled, and pushed open the door to the cleaners supply room.

“Oh, it smells nice in here!” she said happily, trotting in after him.

The guard raised an eyebrow, “There’s spare blankets and pillow in here. We wouldn’t want you to get cold now, would we?”

The mare giggled, her eyes glinting in the light of the lantern the big guard had brought in with them. She watched as he took down one of the blankets and lay it on the floor and settled down on it, patting it,

“You come and sit next to me, flower,” he said smoothly, “let me have a proper look at you.”

“Well…” she teased, hiding behind her basket, “wouldn’t you like to try one of my biscuits first?”

“No, I’ve got other things in mind for you miss” Figs smirked, “we can keep them for…later.”

The mare hung her head, “Oh…and I spent so long baking these too. I wanted somepony to try one and see if they liked it, that was all…” she looked towards the door sadly, “Maybe I was…”

Figs rolled his eyes, “Fine, I’ll try one.”

The mare clopped her hooves together, “Oh goody! Now, try the one with the raisins in it.”

With a sigh, the large stallion took the proffered biscuit and sniffed it - it really did smell delicious too. He took a bite, quickly wolfing the rest down.

“You made these yourself?” he asked, licking the crumbs from his muzzle.

“I did.” The mare said with a smile, “It took me quite a bit of time and research to get the recipe right, but I think you’ll agree, the end result was worth the effort.”

“Mmm…” Figs yawned. Goddesses, he was feeling sleepy all of a sudden. The room seemed to be dimming around him too, the mare’s big orange eyes looming large over him.

“The secret ingredient,” she said quietly, “is love.”

The guard sank to the floor, twitched once, and then was still.

“And slumber vine petals.” She grinned, “odourless, tasteless, and efficacious.” Rising to her hooves, she opened the door and peered out into the corridor before racing off towards the dungeons. They weren’t hard to find, she’d been here in the past with school visits, and later, as a scholar, it had been simplicity itself to talk her way in to access the library and learn the castles secrets. She leaned up and pulled the bronze sconce, revealing the narrow doorway behind the tapestry. Slipping in, she followed the dark passageway by the light of the guards lantern. He wouldn’t be needing it now, and in a few hours he’d wake up and have forgotten all about her. The Goddess had guided her well.

The passage was surprisingly dry, if a little musty, but fortunately not quite as long as she’d expected. It ended in a blank wall - blank except for a loose stone, that once pressed, unlocked the hinge mechanism and allowed her into the far back of the dungeon. Nopony knew about these secret passages except the Princesses, and the castle was littered with them. Why they had been built and for what purpose was probably lost in time; there certainly wasn’t any mention of them in the histories of the castle’s construction, and she’d researched that thoroughly. She poked her muzzle out into the corridor; It was clear, with nothing to see except a few flickering lanterns and the cells. Here and there were snores and grunts - no doubt drunks sleeping off another night of revelry in the town or other misdemeanours - Equestria wasn’t exactly noted for its harsh judicial system nor its crime. Ponies were, if nothing else, well behaved creatures for the most part, like drones their Queen, the all powerful Princess of the sun. It was time for change - they had to move on or else the country would stagnate and die, or worse, fall prey to the large and powerful empires surrounding it. Celestia and her idyllic world needed the strength that only unity with the true Goddess could achieve.

The cell she wanted was in near complete darkness - only the faint glow of two tiny blue-white fires within spoke of the sole occupant. The purple mare slipped her hair pin from her plaits, and deftly unscrewed the end before pouring the slightly smoking contents into the lock. A barely perceptible fizzing and hissing sound was the only noise other than the creak of the door as it opened enough for her to squeeze inside.

In the darkness, the fires burned brightly, the smell of smoke wafting up and catching in Nutmeg’s nose. A voice, alien and distant spoke,

“Here to stare, Equestrian?”

“The Goddess sent me,” the purple mare replied, “come, we have little time.”

A scrabbling of hooves and the thestral was up, moving towards her, “The Goddess? She has sent…you?”

Nutmeg stared into the strange eyes of the nightmarish beast. Most would probably have been terrified of the thing, the large leathery creature with dragon like wings and teeth that could bite your head off in one snap. Or so the stories she’d heard around the capital said at least; the reality, if anypony had bothered to do their research, was quite different. Still, they were dangerous creatures, and of that fact she had no doubts whatsoever. She nodded to the beast,

“You are Wave?”

The eyes glowed brighter, “I am Second Wing Leader Wave, Equestrian.”

“Then in the name of the Goddess of the moon, you are to follow me, do you understand?”

“Aye.” The thestral moved closer, “And how do I know I can believe this is not some sort of Celestian trick? You have some way to prove Her Divinity sent you?”

The Goddess had said this could happen - it wasn’t exactly unexpected either. After all, she just appears from nowhere, opens the cell and says ‘follow me’? Nutmeg took a breath, reciting the words Nightmare Moon had told her,

“Her Divine Majesty said to tell you that ‘the waters of the crystal lake ripple with the tears of the Gods.’”

Wave’s eyes flared like signal fires, “Then there is no more time to lose. Lead the way.”

Back out of the door, the two made for the secret passageway as quietly as ghosts, the straw on the floor dulling their hoofsteps. Wave kept close behind her, her presence strangely reassuring. The corridors and passageways, the secret ways to bypass guards - they were all just as the Goddess had explained to her in her dreams, until they came to the final corridor. Nutmeg held a hoof up in warning and the two moved back down into the passage,

“What is it?” Wave whispered.

“Guards, two of them outside the room we need to be in.”

“You have a weapon?” the black coated warrior asked.

Nutmeg shook her head, “No, but I have these.” She lifted her basket, “It worked once, it can work again.” She took a deep breath, “Wait here.”

These guards though were a different breed to the ones she’d encountered earlier. They looked alert, ready and watched her approach with keen eyes,

“HALT!” one of them barked, “This corridor is off limits.”

“Sir,” the mare said quietly, “I’ve been sent by my mother to give out biscuits to the guards in the castle as thanks for their hard work in the fight against the Legion.” She lifted the basket, “Would you like one?”

“This corridor is off limits to civilians.” the soldier re-iterated, “If you have business with the castle garrison, see the gate guard.”

“I have sir, and they said I could give out my mother’s biscuits to…”

“Leave!” the other guard snapped, “Or I’ll have you thrown in the dungeons for…”

The guards eyes went wide in shock,

“Thestr…” he never had a chance to finish as the black shape tore into him.

Nutmeg hid her face, closed her eyes and squeezed herself against the wall. If only she could have blocked her ears too…

“Come on!” Wave ordered, grabbing the purple mare by her neck, “Let’s do what we came here to do and get out of here.”

Nutmeg squeaked involuntarily as her hoof stood in something…wet. She swallowed nervously and hurried to the door at the end of the corridor without looking down. Taking a breath, she tried to calm her racing heart; there was a job to do, the Goddess had commanded her and…she blinked…

“By the Goddess…”

The room was immense, laid out with row upon row of jars, bottles, glowing pipes and tubes seemingly interconnecting everything. There were crates too: crates of what looked like empty eggshells - metal eggshells. She scratched her chin; was this what the goddess wanted her to…

“Magical explosive.” Wave said, her eyes wide, “I’ve seen it before, but…this looks different somehow.”

“We have to destroy it,” Nutmeg explained, “putting down her basket and breaking open one of the biscuits. She held up a small brass rod.

“Whats that?” Wave asked curiously.

“Acid. It will burn through the cap once activated and react with the explosive. In theory, it should start a cascade reaction.”

“Should?” The thestral huffed angrily, “These…things are being used to kill my brothers and sisters, and you say it ‘should’ work?”

“I followed the instructions the Goddess gave me.” Nutmeg said in a haughty voice, “It will give us time to get out.”

Wave snorted, “How Equestrian.” She glowered at the mare, “Time to flee, yes?”

“Yes! To fight on for Her Divine Majesty!” Nutmeg said, stomping a hoof, “Come on, Wave, let’s do this and get out of…”

The door burst open,

“There they are! Kill them!” The guards raced into the room, swords and spears flashing.

Screaming, shouts, neighs and the sound of breaking glass filled the room as Nutmeg dove under one of the work benches, cowering in fright while the battle raged around her. There was a burst of flame, a loud grunt and the smoking body of one of the guards landed beside her. She covered her mouth with her hoof, suppressing a cry of fright, yet as quickly as it had started, the room fell deathly silent. Seconds passed before she dared poke her muzzle out of her hiding place to peer around her,

“Wave?” she hissed, “Wave, are you there?”

Silence.

Her knees still trembling, Nutmeg slowly emerged from under the work bench and gasped at the scene of carnage around her. There was blood, lots and lots of blood! Dead ponies, guards, lay scattered around the room amongst the wreckage of the equipment she’d seen so neatly arranged only moments earlier. Now it looked…like a scene from hell. She took a breath, trying to calm her heart - she still had to finish her mission and get out of here before more guards came. Taking out the brass device she froze - something was moving, there, amongst the shattered glass…

“E…Equestrian…”

The thestral was still alive? By the Goddess, the creature had been cut to ribbons and was still alive…barely.

“Wave?” Nutmeg moved closer, “Can you stand?”

“No…my body is…broken.” Wave coughed a gobbet of blood, “Give me…” she squeezed her eyes shut a moment before speaking, “…the device.”

Nutmeg shook her head, “The Goddess gave me this task, I have to…”

“I know.” The thestral wheezed, “I’ll do it. If…it doesn’t work, I’ll make sure…”

“You’re going to stay here?” Nutmeg’s eyes went wide, “But…you’ll die.”

Wave spat out a mouthful of blood, producing one of the egg-like things, “We all die one day, Equestrian,” she said distantly, “it’s how we die that is important.”

Nutmeg wasn’t so sure - she preferred to live, and right now she wanted to get as far away from here and the stench of death as she could.

“I’m sorry, Wave.”

The thestral smiled faintly and nodded, watching the pony turn and run out of the door. She didn’t mind really, that young mare was no warrior - not like these guards had been. If only she’d had her armour and axe, she’d have made short work of them and be following her ally out of this accursed place. As it was, those damned ponies had done more enough damage and she could feel her life slowly draining away. Typical Celestian’s, they couldn’t finish a job properly, could they? She snorted out a bitter laugh; she’d wanted to see the end of the war, but not like this, not…dying on some stone floor in the middle of…She sighed; in the end, she’d done her duty hadn’t she? And that, that was what really mattered. She snapped the brass tube, holding it over the egg like things and waited. She wasn’t sure whether it would work or not, but if it didn’t, she had enough fire left in her to make sure she left her mark upon this world. The thestral warrior smiled: Wave, Second Wing Leader of the Legion, would die well.

Chapter Fifty Five - The End of the World

CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE

THE END OF THE WORLD

Thorn pulled his muzzle out of the bush with a start. A number of sticky round ‘things’ had detached themselves from the plant and had stuck to his leathery hide while he slept; now the damned things pulled painfully when he tried to brush them off. Quickly he sat up and found himself staring up into the eyes of a familiar long haired tribal mare.

“Breakfast.” She said in a monotone voice, “You want any or not?”

Thankfully, his mess kit clean and near to hoof, the Major lifted his pail up to receive a dollop of what he hoped was meat and potatoes. The mare was swathed in bandages, her eye swollen and her lip still puffed up - clear signs of the brutality of the attack by the crazed green warrior. How she was still alive, let alone up and working, was either thanks to the Goddess’s blessing or her own bloody mindedness. Knowing the northern tribes though, it was probably the latter. She was already walking away.

“Not even going to ask my name?”

Thorn looked up from his breakfast at the mares enquiry. He frowned, “I’m sorry?”

The mare glared over her shoulder at him, “I’m not surprised. You thestrals see all of us as little more than fodder for your damned war. We’re like cattle to you, aren’t we?”

He watched her for a moment, and shrugged, “I expect you would have told me your name already if you actually wanted me to know it.” He raised an eyebrow, “Do you know mine?”

The mare snorted, “Everypony knows who you are, Storm Major. Killing makes a fine bedfellow for fame.”

Thorn took a mouthful of his breakfast and nodded, chewing thoughtfully, “True…true…” he tapped his hoof on the edge of the mess pail, “Very good this morning, Miss…?”

“Umbra” she said calmly, “It means…”

“I know what it means.” Thorn cut in, “Now, if you don’t mind, Umbra, I have to get back to eating your fine breakfast so I can recover my strength.” He gave her a pointed look, “You never know when i’ll be needed to get back to killing in my damned war.”

The mare glared daggers at him and moved to walk away.

“A last word of advice, Miss.” Thorn called to her, “I would suggest you keep any such potentially ‘controversial’ considerations to yourself. I would hate to see such a pretty mare hang.”

Umbra paled, and silently trotted away to see to the others. Foolish creature, Thorn thought to himself irritably; she may not like the Legion, but she was still a part of it whether she liked it or not. He scraped the last of the gloop from the bottom of the pail; It wasn’t bad at all actually, and a little seasoning really did help lift the flavour - if you could actually call it that. A quick walk to the stream to wash up, clean the mess kit…it was the same every day - the same boring routine. By the Goddess they were moving slowly, and every step, every second, every minute and every hour, took them nearer home and further from where he should be – ‘killing’ for the Goddess. He felt a shiver run through him…that stupid mare…

Back in the column they soon began to move out once more, trudging along the same endless dirt road with their heads down, tired and defeated. More of them had died during the night and others wouldn’t see the end of another day despite the best ministrations of the healers. These had once been strong warriors, the best the Beyond, the Purple Sands and the Broken Cliff tribes could offer, yet they dropped like flies. It had ceased to be a surprise now: hopelessness, weakness, sickness…these were not the domain of a proud thestral, and yet, here they were, walking along, dying one by one. Was he next? Thorn closed his eyes, listening to the coughing and wheezing of the sick and wounded, the creak of the wagons and the steady thud, thud, thud of their hooves in the cold clinging mud. He used to dream of this place, this Equestrian promised land, the land of their ancestors. Now, it was a hell of misery and emptiness. He wanted to go home; he’d lost his adoptive father here, and hadn’t even been there to sing him to the next world. It was a regret he would carry with him, as much as his armour - a weight on both his heart and his soul.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, the darkness around them enclosing the warriors like a shroud. All around them, the forest, that endless damned forest - why did a place need to have so many trees? Thorn felt an urge to run, to stretch his legs and gallop. Days of slowly walking along with silent companions was beginning to affect him. Goddess damn him, he’d even tried to get them to sing some of the old songs to help lift their hearts but it had been like staring into the eyes of the dead, and now he found himself settling down for the night well away from the rest of them once again. Thorn slumped down by a tree and settled into his blankets. Taking a breath he tried to make himself comfortable and empty his mind.

A twig snapped: somebody was coming.

“I’ll see to this one.”

It was the long haired mare.

“Good evening, Umbra.” Thorn said quietly, “What’s on the menu tonight?”

The dark coated mare brushed her mane out of her eyes and passed him a steaming mess pail, “It’s stew.” She reached back into her pannier, “And a sweet roll.”

This was different! The smell hit him like a sledgehammer. Meat! And gravy too! He closed his eyes and took in the delicious aroma,

“Thank you”, he whispered.

“Thanking the Goddess? Or me?” Umbra replied with a toss of her mane.

Thorn took a mouthful and immediately felt the warming food send a tingle of energy and strength through his tired body. He looked up into Umbra’s large eyes,

“Both.” He smiled at her, “How’s the neck?”

“Better.” She replied quietly, “The silver staples will need to stay in for a few days though.”

Thorn nodded, “You’ll have a scar, but your fur will grow back in a month or so.”

“Worried about my appearance?” Umbra said with a sniff, “I didn’t think you thestrals would care about such things.”

The Major cocked his head to one side, “You say the name ‘Thestral’ as if we were beasts. Do you really hate us so much?” he took another mouthful of the stew and chewed thoughtfully, “We have feelings, Umbra, hopes and dreams, just like you.”

“My mother…my…father…” her voice sounded strained and distant.

Thorn nodded, “I know what it is to lose one you’re close to.” He said quietly, “I lost my parents to war.” The Major shrugged, “It is the way of the things.”

“But it shouldn’t have to be!” Umbra said angrily, “Killing, killing, killing! Is that all everypony thinks about now? Is this why we’re here? Simply to kill each other?”

“It is our way.” Thorn replied, “But when the war is over…” he stared up into the starry sky and smiled, “I would like to have my own farm, to till the land and watch as life grows anew from beneath the sun and the moon of our Goddess.” He gave an ironic laugh, “It is a dream, nothing more.”

“Umbra?” A voice called from the road.

“Coming.” She replied standing back up. She looked back at Thorn, “I…I hope your dreams come true some day, Major.” She said sadly, “I really do.” And with that, she trotted off towards her colleague.

Thorn shrugged and snuggled himself into his blanket with a loud yawn. By the Goddess he felt so tired! The food had been so wonderful, so warming and filling - all he wanted was to stretch and curl up for a good sleep. He yawned and sighed happily - food like that would give him his strength back, and then he would be able to return to the Colonel, where he should be. He closed his eyes, making sure he was well covered and also well away from anymore of those bloody sticky bushes! There would none of them on his farm, none at all. Damned things…

Sunlight drifted in through the windows of his home, warming his face. His farm was doing well these days. The crops were coming in nicely and the pigs fattening. She didn’t like it of course, but the girls helped him with that side of things. They were growing so fast! It had been hard work too, what with building the farm from scratch, but with help from his friends and neighbours they’d had a roof over their heads in no time. Naturally, it still needed some furnishings, but a trip to market would soon see to that, and they would a have nice return on their produce too: long ears of golden wheat, delicious juicy red apples and prime cuts of meat for the griffin and thestral traders. He sighed, closing his eyes and smiled as a pair of warm forelegs slipped around his neck,

“Good morning love.” She said into his ear with a playful nip, “You’re up bright and early.”

Thorn chuckled, “We have to bring in the harvest today.” He glanced towards the door where their daughters were chasing each other round with sticks they’d taken from beside the fire.

“Hoy!” his wife shouted, “Stop that, or somepony will get hurt!”

“No we won’t!” one shouted out, just as her sister cracked her right on the head, “OW! Oooh!” And then the crying started. It was time for a hasty retreat. Thorn wasn’t good with that side of things, in fact he had very little experience with foals at all and felt that whenever he tried to help, he only ever made matters worse. His wife gave him a long suffering look as he slipped from the kitchen into the living room out of the way. Years of war, years of battle, suffering, and pain had taken their toll; thestrals were born into the world with an expectation they would become warriors, not mothers, fathers, farmers…

He stared up at his old battle axe hanging above the fireplace. It was ancient, like his ancestral armour that stood in the corner of the study. Like him, it had been steeped in blood, caused nothing but pain and suffering…and for what? Why did they do this? Did they really have to…to kill each other? Umbra…she walked up beside him and looked into his eyes,

“Love? Are you alright?”

Thorn opened his mouth, but couldn’t speak.

“Daddy? Daddy are you okay? Mummy! Mummy I’m scared!”

He couldn’t move. His legs, his mouth - nothing worked, only his breathing, and even that was laboured. Thorn strained, blinking his eyes, but the darkness was everywhere, his family fading back into the dreamworld and the awful reality of the waking world flowing in, over and around him like some vile creature from the black lake. He tried to struggle, to do…something, anything! Smoke…damn it, he could smell smoke. What the hell was going on? Why couldn’t he move? Shapes, indistinct and blurred moved through the darkness, several of them were moving nearer to him, their voices as hollow and empty as vastness of the black sands themselves.

“This ones still alive.”

“He’s finished, leave him.”

“Cut his throat, just to be sure.”

“Wait…” a female voice said, “I’ll do it…I owe him.”

“As you wish”

Thorn could see little more than shadows moving towards him, coming closer…was this the end then? Was this how he would leave this world? How could he face his ancestors like this?!

A voice whispered in his ear, “Be silent, be still. If you make move or a sound, they will kill you.”

Thorn felt the blade against his neck as it was drawn up and then wiped against his hide.

“It’s done. Come on, let’s get back to the others.”

The sound of hooves rumbled away into the night, leaving Thorn lying there, alone amongst the trees. How long he lay there he couldn’t say, but it must have been hours, as daylight gradually began to replace the darkness once again. He blinked, his vision slowly coming back, his legs tingling once more with life. Mustering as much effort as he could, Thorn managed to move just enough to lift his head to see that the column… He closed his eyes again; no, he didn’t want to see that. He knew of course, he already knew…

He was the last.

Darkness took him once again, pulling him down into its warm velvety embrace, but thankfully no dreams came this time. This was not the place for dreams. Soon enough, he awoke and shakily rose to his hooves and quietly, mechanically, began collecting his things. The Major tried not to look at the bodies as he gathered his armour and axe. At least they’d left them, as they had for the other warriors - they’d had enough respect for that at least. There were some provisions in his own pack too: some dried biscuits and water in his flasks. He wouldn’t touch the rest of the supplies in the wagons. Instead, he spent the next hour pulling the bodies into a pile and moved the wagons across them, emptying out as much as he could and laying out what dry wood he could find. There was enough lamp oil to give the fire a good start, and soon enough, it began to catch. Whether the enemy were nearby, whether a bolt or arrow would come out of the dark of the forest to cut him down…he didn’t care. What did any of this truly matter? He closed his eyes as the flames began to leap and the wood snap and spit in the heat. This was the time for them, to remember their deeds and honour their memories. Raising his muzzle, Thorn threw back his head and began to sing.

He didn’t know them, and yet he did. They were his brothers, his sisters - the warriors of the Wither World. It didn’t matter what tribe they were from, he didn’t care what colour banner they carried or what their names were. They were family, all of them; that, was what truly mattered. There few enough of his people already, and now, today, there were even fewer. He gave himself a shake and bowed his head,

“Farewell my brother, farewell my sister; may the Goddess keep you, always.”

Thorn turned to head off up the road and paused,

“Come to finish the job?” he asked.

The dark mare walked out of the forest and shook her head, “No.”

The Major gritted his teeth, “I should have let him kill you.”

The mare nodded slowly, “Yes.”

“You murdered my people.”

“They murdered mine.”

Thorn gazed at her and shook his head, “I suppose we’re all murderers then, in our own way.” He stared up at the sky, “Only the Goddess truly knows.”

She walked towards him, raising a hoof, “Major, I…”

There was a bright flash of green light in the distance. A few seconds later a loud rumble like distant thunder shook the tree’s. More flashes and roars quickly followed. Thorn shook his head,

“And so it begins.” He turned to Umbra, “Hadn’t you better be getting back to your friends? They’ll be waiting for you.”

“Yes…” she replied, “Thorn…” she squeezed her eyes shut for moment, “I’m sorry.”

The black coated thestral hoisted his pack onto his back, “I’m not the one you should be apologising to.” He nodded towards the blazing pyre, “There they are, I’m sure their spirits will hear you.”

The mare stared at the fire and then back to Thorn, lifting a hoof. The Major shook his head and walked past her,

“Goodbye Umbra.”

Flickering yellow and orange light lit the trees, the smoke billowing up towards the heavens, a signal fire for the warriors spirits returning home.

Thorn walked on.

********************

“Somebody give me a damned report!” The Colonel yelled over the din.

“Sir!” Colonel Fulminata’s aide de campe saluted, “I’ll…”

He stopped mid sentence as a despatch carrier raced up,

“Colonel, the Celestians are shielding their forces from our bombardment. The Master at Arms respectfully requests more ammunition.”

“There is no more ammunition.” Fulminata spat, “Tell Brimstone he’s to keep up the bombardment as long as he can.”

“By your command.” The warrior turned and ran off into the smoke.

“Damn it, Bale, I can’t see a damned thing!” Fulminata growled low in his throat, “Is this some sort of magic?”

“I believe it’s from the explosives sir,” Bale replied, “it’s a new batch from the griffins. Our old stockpiles were depleted, and after the surrender…”

The Colonel stomped a hoof irritably, “-Goddess damn it, Flight Commander, I know all that! Where the hell’s our dragon support?”

Bale nodded towards the flashes of light amongst the clouds above them, “Etrida and her dragons are all currently engaged with the Celestian dragons, sir. We haven’t been able to communicate with them since we engaged the enemy.”

He was right. Those bloody fickle creatures were more trouble than they were worth, but at least they were fighting each other and not them. The smoke too was a surprise; the griffins had only produced a a small quantity since the end of hostilities had officially been announced, and what they’d sent had been erratic to say the least. Some quite clearly hadn’t detonated and the rest had only been a fraction of the power they had been, and as for that smoke! He shook his mane. The blasted Celestians were dug in hard and were just waiting for them, but that smoke…he scratched his chin in thought.

“If we can’t see them, then they can’t see us.”

Bale raised an eyebrow, “Sir?”

“All divisions, in to the attack.” His tailed swished wildly, “While we are invisible to them, Bale, send them in. We’ll be on them before they know it.” He snarled, “Ponies cannot stand before a thestrals blade.”

“SIGNALLER!” Bale yelled for the young trumpeter, “Sound the general advance.”

The young stallion nodded and lifted the horn to his lips. The call blasted out around the valley, picked up by others until the very air shook with its command. Fulminata smiled,

“Let’s see the rats scurry out of their holes now.”

High above, the darkened sky flashed with fire and magic, crackles and booms resounding across the heavens as dragons clashed in scaled muscular fury. Flames roared out, engulfing not only their enemy but the pegasi and griffins who darted between them, shooting their crossbows and hacking at each other with sword and spear. Beyond even them, the Princesses, the sisters, watched each other, lost in their own world; a world where only they existed.

Celestia stood tall and proud, her wings beating rhythmically beside her as she held her station. The Princess’s rainbow mane flowed out behind her, spilling over her golden armour to where her tail streamed out in the wind of the planet’s magical field. Her purple eyes never strayed from her opponent, her magic holding her halberd fast and at the ready. She gritted her teeth and steeled herself while Luna…no…’Nightmare Moon’, stood facing her. Slightly shorter than her sister, the midnight coated mare watched her with those large impassive azure eyes, as cold as a serpent and as bitter as poisons bite. Celestia could feel her muscles tightening, ready for an attack.

The moon Goddess’s silver and black armour glinted in the flares of dragon fire. Her magic glowed around the haft of her war scythe, casually held beside her, looking for all the world as if she were…bored.

“You seen angry, sister.” The dark mare said almost absently, “Is something the matter?”

Celestia narrowed her eyes, “You…you monster. You are the matter. All this, all of this!” she waved a hoof towards the billowing smoke below, “This is your doing: death, killing, murder - does this mean nothing to you? Is it all just some sort of twisted game?”

“Oh come now, Celestia.” Nightmare Moon replied casually, “Don’t pretend you’re innocent in all this. You had all the time in the world to make amends for what you did, but you preferred to remain wilfully ignorant, didn’t you? Do you still profess to know nothing now?” she pointed a hoof towards the masses of warriors clashing on the valley’s ridge below, the smoke slowly beginning to clear, “The evidence is beneath you, sister, but then…the truth always was, wasn’t it?”

“You wouldn’t know truth if it struck you in the face, spirit. When did you develop morals? You stole my sister away from me, you stained her heart with your evil and drove her to commit acts of insanity.” Celestia pointed her halberd towards the combatants below, “This…this is insanity!”

“Insanity?” Nightmare Moon laughed, “You call shutting out part of your world, your own world, because it doesn’t fit in with your precious world view to be normal? You don’t actually believe that, do you? Are you sure I am the one who is deranged Celestia?”

“You have no moral high ground, monster.” The Princess of the sun snapped, “I know what you did, I know about the burning of that town and the mothers, the foals, who died in its fires. It was because of your truck with those demons, those foul things you have taken to your bed. They are beasts that should have remained locked in their damnable world where father put them.”

“He had no right!” Nightmare Moon shrieked, “You know nothing! Your predjudice and hatred have blinded you to the reality of the world, Celestia. Your utopia, your precious little world of sunshine and rainbows is based upon nothing more than a lie, a lie which you knew about and did nothing to…”

“SILENCE!” The Princess screamed, “All around us, every single day, my people suffer and die, and it is all due to your selfishness, your damned arrogance! You think you are superior? You are the one who lusts for a joining with the husband of another, another of those demon cursed creatures! You have no morals, no goodness left within you, do you? Is there any part of my sister left demon? Or have you completely destroyed her?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself…Tia?”

That name…

With a scream of rage, Celestia launched herself at the dark mare, swinging her halberd around in a deadly arc. Nightmare Moon laughed, meeting the Celestian leaders blow with one of her own. She was strong, they were both strong, but this had to end, and quickly. The Goddess of the night knew there was more at stake here than simply defeating Celestia: she had somepony to protect, and nopony, no ‘sister’ was going to stop her - not this time…NOT THIS TIME!

Bellowing in anger, Nightmare Moon swung her scythe at the white alicorn, twisting and turning through the air as the two of them fought each other high above the hidden battle raging on the ridge far below. The deadly blades collided, sending sparks of intense light out across the clouds as they duelled. Celestia’s horn suddenly glowed and she ducked - the bolt of fire, hotter than the sun itself, lancing down through the clouds, through the smoke and blasting a gouge in the land below. The Goddess shook herself; she had to get her away from here - if a stray shot hit…NO! She couldn’t risk that! With screech of fury, she unleashed a bolt of black lightning straight at Celestia. Her sister dodged it, she knew she would, but it distracted her long enough for her to dive down through the clouds, heading as far as she could away from the battle where the two of them could fight without endangering…

A sudden blast of magic seared past the dark mare making her flinch away, and she turned to face her sister once again. This time she would not throw herself fully into a counterattack; no, this time, she would pace herself, letting her sister rage and throw spells at her all she liked. This time, she would win.

Far below, the thestral line burst from the smoke and smashed into the Celestian line like a inexorable tide of snarling, screaming black death. Clambering over their wounded, dead and dying, the warriors of the moon hacked their way through the defences, many falling beneath a merciless barrage of magic and crossbow bolts. Dray raced up the line,

“Colonel Spoon, can your ponies hold?”

“Aye, they will Dray, don’t you worry.” The white coated mare turned to shout at her troops, “Watch him, watch him! Well done, boys!” she turned back to the General, “The defences are breaking them up, but the buggers are determined, I’ll say that for them.”

One of the soldiers galloped up, foam pouring from her muzzle, “Colonel…” she gasped, “Minotaurs, they’re coming out of the forest on the left.”

“That old biscuit, eh?” the white mare smiled, “Time for a little surprise, eh, Dray?”

The General nodded, “At your order, Colonel.”

Along the left flank of the line, a group of ponies hurried into position, loading crossbows hurriedly and taking aim.

“Quickly boys and girls,” the Colonel called, “Sergeant, wait until they’re in range, theres a good fellow.”

A grizzled looking veteran, scarred and missing the tip of one ear gave her a toothy grin, “Yes, Colonel!”

Spoon watched him as he returned to the soldiers. Her eyes never left him, “He’s a rough sort,” she called to Dray over her shoulder, “but nothing like a bit out rough and tumble now and again eh, Dray? Keeps you limber!”

Dray said nothing. He was busy watching the Sergeant commanding his troops. Spoon was right, he did know his trade, and it was clear his ponies did too. A single barked order brought the crossbows up, their unusual payload in position and ready.

Spoon smiled, “Let them have a taste of it.”

“SHOOT!”

The crossbows jumped as the bolts left on their way towards the oncoming horde. Normally, such an attack would have killed a few, wounded others, but the steamrolling mass of muscle and brutality would have absorbed most of the bolts as if they were little more than an annoying buzz of a mosquito. It was clear from their expressions that this was what they had expected as well, until the first bolt exploded.

Spoon yelled in surprise as the blast wave hit them, knocking both her, Dray, and a good portion of the exposed troops off their hooves, “Buck me bloody sideways!” she coughed, spitting out dirt and grit from her mouth, “Bit of a warning next time, eh? Bloody hell fire!”

The crossbow wielding ponies pulled themselves off the ground and were quickly reloading. But really, Dray noted, there was little need. The minotaurs had simply…gone.

“Bugger me…” he whispered as the reality of what those ‘things’ could do, dawned on him. What the hell had they created?

“Don’t stand there like lumps of wood, get those bloody things at the ready in case more of the lumbering sacks of crap come at us!” The Sergeant roared. He continued to shout at his ponies, but Dray was already heading back to check on the rest of the army. Golden Spoon knew what she was doing, but it was the rest he had more concerns over. Thankfully, Major Wild was in command.

“Dray? What the hell was that explosion?”

“Lots of smaller ones making one big one, Major.” Dray said taking a quick pull on his water flask, “Our little presents seemed to go down rather well.”

“I’ll say!” she grumbled, “I was nearly killed by a piece of flying minotaur.”

The thestrals were pushing harder here, their skill at battle all too apparent, if the constant ferrying of wounded and dead ponies was any indication. Fresh troops were being filtered in - a constant stream ensuring nopony was at the front for too long. It was an idea, he wouldn’t mind admitting, he’d taken from observing his enemy in action last time. His soldiers had take to the new training with a will, especially when they saw how effective it could be.

“What’s happened to our dragon support?” Wild shouted over the din.

“Beating the stuffing out of each other up there somewhere” Dray replied, “Best place for them too.”

Wild looked up, “I don’t know, Dray, I think we’ve got other troubles coming this way.”

He knew what she meant without even looking. There they were – the small white clouds high in the sky, slowly beginning their dive towards the ground,

“Wendigo…”

The red mare bellowed her commands, “Shields! NOW!”

Unicorns threw up the glowing blue domes in time to meet the first of the blasts of magical blue fire from the white coated nightmares skimming overhead. Some of their power had been dissipated by the overlapping shields, but it wasn’t enough: lines of wounded and dead lay side by side where the wendigo magic had seared through their ranks. Ponies rolled and screeched in pain while their comrades hurried up to pull them back and replace them. All the while the thestrals and minotaurs pushed on.

Dray quickly grabbed a pegasus signaller, “Now’s your time. Sound the attack.”

From tree tops, from out of the still hanging smoke, pegasi broke cover and flew towards the rear of the wendigo, releasing their heavy bolts. Several hit, most missed, but a direct hit wasn’t necessary, not with those things attached. The bursts of green fire engulfed several of the white creatures, who simply winked out of existence in the ensuing blast. Pieces of meat, gore and bone, rained down across the battlefield, accompanied by the shouts and cheers of the Celestians below. But now, now the battle truly was at hoof. Below, in the valley, the Legions reserves were moving up - a black sea of lethality. The Celestians were giving as good as they got, but they needed something more, they needed an edge. Dray gritted his teeth; dear sweet Goddesses, where were they?

**********************

“Steady as she goes, Mister Haggis.” Gretel subconsciously fidgeted with her sword, “Get those bloody crossbows ready, you scurvy dogs or I’ll whip your arses raw!”

“Some ponies pay good money for that” Chalk shouted over the noise of the wind, “If we get out of this alive, I might take you up on the offer!”

Gretel shook her head, laughing, “If we get out of this alive, I’m locking you in my cabin for a week. I hope your stamina’s up for it, Mister Dust.”

“Goddesses, I hope so!” Chalk shuddered, but kept his concentration on the sails, helping to guide the wind just where it was needed. Beneath him, he could sense the ships excitement, the thrill of battle calling her on, urging her into the fray.

On the maindeck, Haggis could feel the helm respond to his slightest touch; the way the Revenge felt as if she could dance, her song calling out to the ponies on her decks - she was alive, full of the joy of life and eager for battle. This was her time, it was her place, and alongside her, the black and white lines of the Wind Wraith, that most sleek and beautiful vessel. Still, Haggis thought to himself stroking the wheel, she was no match for the sheer majesty of the King Sombra’s Revenge. No ship, not even in the Amethyst Fleet, could compare to her perfection and magnificence. He smiled,

“None come even close, my love” he whispered to her.

The Master at Arms, adjusted her hat and made a final inspection of the crossbows. Each was loaded, the ponies taking position and slipping off the safety catches.

“Ready on the…BUCK IT! Look out!”

Flying towards them like a thunderbolt out of the clouds, almost as large as the Revenge herself, came one of Equestria’s most feared beasts: a dragon; its scales as black as night, and spewing gouts of orange fire as it hurtled past them.

“Hard to port!” Gretel yelled, “Shoot as we bear!”

Crossbows both from the Revenge and the Wind Wraith opened up on the monstrous creature, but it was already gone, disappearing into the cloud below them.

“Hell fire, that was close.” Chalk gasped, shaking himself off.

Gretel peered over the edge of the ship, “It’s not over yet, he’ll be back.”

On deck, the crew were already re-loading the crossbows with others up in the masts readying the smaller ones. They were useless for the most part against something so large but they may be enough to…

“Here it comes again!”

A sudden shuddering crunch of wood, and an answering cry of alarm from the ship took Gretel to the starboard side. Staring over, she found herself looking right into the nightmarish eyes of the immense black lizard-like beast as it dug its claws deep into the timbers. Teeth, long as her own body glinted in the fires welling inside the creatures great maw.

She could have sworn it…smiled.

Fire burst up the side of the Revenge, the place her Captain had been standing a mere heartbeat earlier, transformed into an inferno of blue and orange. Flames roared upwards, blackening the rigging and setting the main mast afire. Almost immediately, the crew were rushing to cut down the sail and douse the flames. Gasping, Gretel pulled herself out of Chalk’s grasp and hauled herself back to her hooves, pulling out her sword,

“Shoot it! SHOOT IT! Get that bastard thing off my ship!”

Crossbow bolts hissed down from all directions, glancing off the great dragon’s hide while the thing clung tenatiously to the ship’s side. Haggis did what he could but the beast hung on with its razor sharp claws deep in the vessels timbers. Amy howled in impotent rage at the dragon as she dove through the cloud trying to shake it free. Meanwhile the Wind Wraith, followed them down, was shooting its own crossbows into the monsters immense back. Several found their mark and it howled in pain and fury, ripping another chunk of the ships side like it was made of paper. Gretel watching in horror as the great serpentine head snaked out and one of her crew vanished down the things gullet with barely a chance to scream.

Chalky…where was Chalky?! She looked about, but he’d…no…he’d gone! She lifted her crossbow and shot at the dragon’s eye, the beast flinching away just in time to flick the bolt aside with its thick scaled skull. She could see, just a glimpse, but there, disappearing amidst the chaos, the fire and blood, was a golden tail and white rump running up to the fore castle.

Chalk reached the strange apparatus and yanked off the canvas covering, Salty charging up behind him,

“What we be doin’? I don’t even know what this thing be!”

Chalk grabbed the box lid and threw it open, “Gretel said the griffins put one on the Wind Wraith too, so they must be be useful for something!” He stared at a sheath of papers inside, “I can read a bit of it, but somepony said you can read griffin.”

Salty ducked as a burst of flame tore across the deck,

“Aye! I can, it’s just…”

“Can you read it or not?!” Chalk yelled, “I’m not going to stay here and be roasted, Salty!”

“Damn it!” Salty snatched up the instructions and took a deep breath, “Thank you for purchasing the type one anti-piracy deterrent. We sincerely hope you enjoy your new…”

“Salty, for the Goddesses’ sake, skip the bloody intro and get to what we need to do to get it damned well working!” Chalk shouted.

The brown and cream pony shook his mane and flipped through the pages, “Right,” he began to mutter aloud, “…future business…safety precautions prior to use…ah!” He tapped the page, “Taking care not to damage the outer wrapping, insert the projectile, see fig A, into the projection tube as shown in fig B.”

Chalk stared at the instructions, “What?”

“Shove that in there!” Salty snapped and pointed to a long green painted cylinder that had a large white arrow helpfully painted on the side.

“Whats it say?” Chalk asked staring at the peculiar writing.

Salty peered at it, “’This way towards target.’”

“Right!” Chalk shoved the cylinder into place, “What’s next?”

“Ummm….” Salty stared at the manual, “Pull back cocking piece, Fig C, and ensure safety lever is disengaged prior to firing.”

“Right…” Chalk quickly examined the device and flipped a small brass lever, “Is that it?”

Salty looked down at the instructions, “Point muzzle towards target, taking into account for allowances in wind and…”

“BOLLOCKS!” Chalk yelled in fright as a massive claw ripped past him, tearing shards out of the deck and smashing into the remains of…oh no…there was somepony under it…or what was left of them.

“We don’t have time!” Chalk bellowed, “What do we do, Salty?!”

“It say we point that bit,” the brown and cream stallion pointed to the open end of the tube, “And ‘pull lever, see Fig D.’”

“Oh Goddesses…” The two stared up at the massive head bearing down on them. All Chalk could see were…teeth, teeth and blood soaked scraps of the last thing it had eaten…

Chalk’s eyes were wide. There was no way out of this - nothing could stop it…nothing. He just wished he could have seen Gretel one last time. So absorbed by the dripping teeth bearing down upon him, he barely felt what happened next. There was a dull thud, almost lost amidst the shouting and crashing noises all around the deck; it seemed to be emanating from the device. There was a high pitched whistling sound, followed by a whoosh, and then the cylinder like projectile shot from the end and vanished into the open maw of the dragon.

Nothing happened.

“Bye Salty…” Chalk mumbled. He drew his sword, knowing damned well it would do nothing against this beast, but still…he took a breath, “Come on you flying pile of crap! I’ll cut your bloody tonsils off and…”

The ensuing detonation severed the dragon’s head from its body, spattering pieces of meat, bone and blood across the entire ship and pulling the Revenge dangerously to starboard. Gore soaked ponies rushed to the side with hatchets, hooks and poles, trying desperately to push the bloodied corpse from the ship, but it was stuck fast.

“Hang on to something!” A voice yelled from somewhere, “We’re going over!”

Chalk blinked in surprise; he was still alive! Dear Goddesses, he was…what? Oh no…the ship was beginning to roll, ponies were yelling and shouting to one another, and Salty…Salty was lashing the two of them to the tubular device. In a trice, he was made fast along with the box of cylinders, and Salty himself,

“Hang on lad,” the old sailor said, clutching the box, “Amy needs ter shake that thing loose or we’ll follow it down ter hell.”

The white unicorn squeezed his eyes shut and hung onto the box for all he was worth. Sometimes he wish he had claws like a griffin, or at least something that could take a better grip than hooves, but…wait…magic! Finding the calm inside himself, reaching for that familiar tingle of energy, Chalk encompassed the two of them in his magic’s reassuring blue glow.

The world around him began to turn, or was it the ship? Goddesses help them, this was worse than when he’d been out on an all night bender with Bracken and found himself hanging onto the craphouse toilet as if it were his last chance at life itself. Celestia knew how much he prayed for help that night! He’d sworn he’d never touch another drop, but of course, inevitably, he had and now, here were the aftereffects coming back and he hadn’t even had the pleasure of drinking himself into a stupour either! Around the two ponies, rope, buckets, anything and everything loose, began to slide horribly towards the ship’s railing, including the huge head of the dead beast than moved with a wet sucking sound over to the side where it hung, caught by one of the dragon’s horns. Peering out of one eye, Chalk could see the immense body beginning to move, but the damned things claws were stuck right into the hull and even in death, the dragon was hanging on tenaciously. The Revenge called to him, crying out her distress and pain. He could help her, he had the power, he was her wind mage…she needed him.

Chalk felt a stirring in his heart: an angry determination and drive which he never realised was there. This…this thing had attacked his friends, attacked his ship, his home, and he was just sitting here like this? Bollocks to that! He took a breath and focussed his energy, tapping into the wellspring from which all his magic flowed. He had a power within him, one even Starswirl was impressed by. Now, it was time to put it to a better use than floating beer mugs and pipe tobacco.

He heard Gretel shriek, followed by the horrible lurching feeling once again as the ship righted herself. Staggering slightly from the expenditure of magic, he stretched his legs to try and steady himself. His head was…actually not that bad, certainly not pounding with the horrendous pain he’d had last time he’d let fly with so much…

“You…you absolute arse!”

“Huh?”

A great pair of red forelegs embraced the unicorn, near crushing him in a warm and furry assault,

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”

Gretels large maroon eyes stared down Chalks. He looked up at her and grinned,

“Hello, love. Sorry, I’ve been a bit tied up.”

Even Salty groaned, removing the last of the rope while the Captain pulled her husband free, tears rolling down her cheeks,

“Get your hairy arse back on station and get to work ye swab.”

Chalk smirked, “Aye, aye Cap’n.”

Trotting back up to the quarterdeck, Chalk tried not to look but, dear Goddesses, the deck was awash with blood. Mostly, that of the dragon, but here and there were signs of what had clearly once been a crewpony, a friend, one of his new family. He gritted his teeth and trotted up the cracked and splintered steps. Celestia had better know what she was doing…

“Ahoy!” Cyclone yelled over to them, “Do you need any help?”

Gretel waved a hoof, “The damned thing really did a number on us,” she shouted back, “but we’re still here. Let’s get this over with and get the hell out of here.”

There would be no arguments about that. Already they were picking up speed and beginning their descent. Mr Haggis had them back on course, with the Wind Wraith moving away from her sister ship and readying herself. Barrels were rolled out and locked onto the runners, the magical fuses in place and the crossbows reloaded. Those they had left at any rate - the dragon had destroyed several of them and taken a sizeable piece out of the railing too. Deck hooves were already working on makeshift repairs and patching the fire damaged portions of the ship, but the Revenge would probably need some time in dock to get her back to the way she should be. Even so, everypony moved with a will, including a certain white unicorn, one with the job of urging the wind, not only for his own vessel, but for the Wind Wraith as well. Gretel too was busy, hard at work ordering the ponies to their tasks as the deck officers made them ready for what was to come.

Strata stuck his head up out of the hatchway and quickly disappeared back down again. The sickbay was filling quickly but the more seriously injured had been stabilised at least. Doc didn’t bother looking up as the indigo unicorn trotted back in,

“That’s the last of them,” he said closing the door, “let’s hope we don’t get any more or we’ll be stacking them like dominoes.”

Doc wiped his brow and let out a pent up breath, “Madness…”

“Huh?” Strata furrowed his brow quizzically.

“This.” Doc said by way of explanation, motioning towards the beds, “One attack, just one, and this is what we get.” He shook his head in resignation.

“It was a dragon, Doc.” Strata replied, “A very big dragon.”

“They’re all big!” Doc clucked his tongue and walked over to the water barrel to wash his hooves. Thank the Gods the lid had been locked down before the bloody ship rolled onto her side! They hadn’t the time to tie down everypony, and some had been injured by the fall or had existing injuries exascerbated by the sudden rolling. Strata had tried to go up on deck to see what was happening but the hatch had been blocked. By the roaring and screaming, he was damned glad his friend hadn’t managed to get up there or else he could have been yet another casualty. Doc took a swig of the brandy and passed it to the indigo unicorn.

“When did you start drinking?” Strata said in surprise.

“Not sure.” Doc replied with a shrug, “A mouthful every now and again, and before you start berating me, no, I’m not a secret drunkard.”

“Never said a word.” Strata grinned, taking a swig himself, “So long as we keep enough for medicinal purposes of course.”

Doc smiled, “Of course.”

Strata looked up suddenly, “We’re picking up speed.”

“Guess this is it then.” Doc sighed, “Better hang on to something.”

“Got a hoof to spare?”

Doc raised an eyebrow, “You know the answer to that.”

Strata walked up to the blue coated ships surgeon and stared at the floor. He never thought that one day he would be in one of the ships of the Amethyst Fleet and going into battle. If anypony had told him that a year ago he would have laughed at the notion, or perhaps even jumped at the chance – who could say. Now that he’d seen the reality, the pain, the suffering on the faces of the injured and pulled the sacking over the faces of the dead, the foalish excitement he’d once had for such an adventure, seemed like the dreams of a mad pony. He closed his eyes and waited. He’d seen such things…such incredible places and ponies, spoken to creatures few would have believed even existed, and yet now…now he felt something for the first time in his life…fear.

A warm muzzle nudged his neck and made him start.

“Not like you to be nervous.” Doc said quietly.

Strata shook his head, “No. Maybe not.” He snorted out a laugh, “Not for myself anyway.”

“It’s good to have something to protect, something worth fighting for.” Doc replied.

“Or somepony.” Strata said with a cheeky wink.

Doc raised an eyebrow, “True, true.”

“Doc!” A shout from across the room made them both look up.

Duty, as always, called.

***********************

“Colonel! Sky galleons coming in from the south.”

Fulminata looked up at the grim steel grey horizon and raised his telescope, “What? Damn them!”

There was no doubt about it. The two ships were coming right right at them, and their dragons were busy chasing each others arses around when they should have been here doing their damned job.

“Signal the wendigo, get them up there and bring those blasted ships down!”

“By your command, Colonel.”

Their intelligence had warned them of this, that the Celestians had been using sky galleons for moving troops, and the last thing they needed was these bloody things strafing them. It was bad enough with the pegasi, but at least they had some of their own, and griffins too, but many those had simply upped and left after the first battle. The greedy scum had filled their pockets and now, right when they needed them, many of them were nowhere to be seen. He narrowed his eyes, watching the impressive looking vessels heading for them. If he’d had his way, he would have commandeered those ships and pressed them into service, but they hadn’t been seen as anything more than an annoyance, and for some unexplained reason, the Goddess had wanted them to be left alone. Now he was regretting his decision not to take matters into his own hooves, Goddess or not.

“BALE!” he shouted.

The tall officer pushed his way through to his commander, “Sir?”

“Get what troops you can up there and hit those ships with everything, everything! Do you understand Flight Commander?”

Bale saluted, “Yes, Sir.”

Fluminata nodded, “Then go, quickly.”

“By your command.”

The Colonel had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was coming, and it wasn’t good. Heedless of his concerns, the battle continued to rage on the ridge. The Celestians were putting up one hell of a fight and had managed to all but destroy Dunn’s division with some sort of magical attack. He’d known the Legion had needed more magical creatures in their ranks, but tradition and scepticism had hamstrung any attempts to make a cohesive attempt to recruit unicorns. They had some, those who had answered the call of her Divine Majesty, but once again, time and complacency over the supposed ‘surrender’ by the Celestian forces had caught up with them. Fulminata growled, smoke rising from his muzzle as his anger began to boil. He had to hoof it to them, they’d been clever; sneaky and deceptive perhaps, but certainly clever. And now the Legion would pay the price.

“Colonel, Captain Jag reports the Celestian centre is beginning to buckle, he requests reinforcements.”

“They’ve already got everything.” Fulminata snarled. He looked around at the masses of the Legion moving up to the line, and coming closer - those damned ships. If they caught them in the open like they had the first time, they could cause havoc. But, if he pulled back now, the Celestians would be able to regroup. He had to trust his troops and those damnable Wendigo to do their job and deal with those ships. There was only one unit left he could use now – his final card…

“Send in the Night Guard.”

“Sir?” The messenger asked, “They’re the Goddess’s personal…”

“I know that!” The Colonel barked, “But if we fail now, the Goddess will have our hides and I’d rather have victory and a flogging than see our people fail her Divine Majesty.” He turned to his aide, “Give the order.”

“By your command.”

This was it, the final push, the tipping point. One last nudge and the Celestian centre would fold like a deck of cards, and this whole flimsy rebellion against their Goddess would be no more than a hoofnote in history. He could feel it in the air; they were so close! Fulminata’s tail swished wildly, his mane shivering in the sudden rush of excitement. Damn the ships! He drew his axe, reared on his hind legs and blasted a jet of fire into the sky, his voice howling out his defiance,

“Now! Push hard warriors of the moon! Fight for your Goddess and your honour. Drive these Celestian vermin from her sight!”

Their people would sing of their deeds on this day. Fulminata nodded to his aide, “I’ll be damned if I’m giving that lot all the glory!” Screeching his battle cry, the Colonel charged into the fray.

High above him, fire and magic blazed back and forth across the sky in a magnificent and terrifying display of raw power and fury. Speeding away from the aerial battleground, two streaks of light separated, unseen by the combatants below, arrowing inexorably south.

In an instant a blast of concentrated magic lanced out, narrowly missing the Goddess of the night, but she was fast, nimble - a lith creature who could dance away from such pitiable attacks with the disdain they deserved. Still, there was no sense in taking risks and she responded with a bolt of lightning, dark as the night sky, mingled with the elemental power of the spirit world. Celestia dodged the attack as she had expected. The Goddess took a breath and shifted the grip on her war scythe; she’d known all along that this was going to have to be concluded by a fight at close quarters. Nightmare Moon wanted to see the white bitch kneeling at her hooves and begging for forgiveness, pleading for clemency – it was only right after what she had done. She snorted aloud; perhaps she would be merciful and grant it. Even after all Celestia’s betrayals, she may still grant her this boon…once she had drawn all her magic from her and left her an empty husk - a helpless pathetic pawn as she had once been herself. It would be interesting indeed to see how the great Celestia felt being completely dependant on others for help, to know that nopony would listen nor care about her, and treat her concerns and words as though they were nothing more than a single raindrop, lost in a thunderstorm. Nightmare Moon gritted her teeth; she would make her listen, at the point of her sword or the edge of her scythe, it didn’t matter - only that the years of being left in emptiness and ignorance were finally ended once and for all.

The beautiful land of Equestria, the war torn, blood soaked home of the two alicorn Princesses tore past in a blur of colour around them. Neither sister paid it any heed; the world was inconsequential now. All there was, all that mattered, was the two of them and their determination to end matters, one way…or another.

Celestia’s eyes blazed angrily. All this…this suffering, the pain, the anguish; she could feel the lives of her people disappearing one by one, each precious spark, that rarest of gifts, snuffed out as their souls left her world for the eternal herd. This shouldn’t have happened - none of it. Ponies were meant to have lives filled with joy and love, songs and laughter, not this! Pain coursed through her, her heart crying out in resonance with the suffering of her people. With a scream of anger, she dove towards her sister, swinging her halberd in a lethal arc. The dark mare deflected it with apparent ease.

“Pathetic.” Nightmare Moon sneered, “Is this the best you can offer, Celestia?”

The sun Princess adjusted her grip, “I have more than enough to best you, demon.” She replied with conviction, “You should save your breath for fighting.”

“Well said!” the dark Goddess laughed, “Prepare yourself: mother and father would love to see you home again.” She glowered, “Permanently.”

With a howl, the Goddess of the night charged into the attack, swinging her great war scythe around. Celestia parried the blow, knocking the blade away and thrusting up with her halberds point arrowing towards the dark mare’s heart. Nightmare Moon dodged away, sweeping her scythe up to disembowel her sister with one clean stroke, but Celestia had seen it coming. Golden sparks of light flew as the weapons clashed and the deadly attack was defeated. Instantly changing the block into an attack Nightmare Moon suddenly found herself having to duck a thrust that would have likely opened her throat.

Again and again, the two sisters clashed, each of them equally skilled, each trying their best to take the others life. Celestia cleared her mind; there was nothing now but herself, herself and the enemy. She knew too, that Nightmare Moon…Luna…would be doing the same. She couldn’t be weak, she couldn’t allow herself to fall - her people needed her, her home needed her. Celestia’s halberd glanced off Nightmare Moon’s armoured shoulder, the darker mare’s own blade skittering across her back. Searing lightning flashed, answered by a ray of concentrated sunlight. They were evenly matched, but there had to be a flaw, some chink in the other’s defences. Maybe there was a way to get an edge, some way through, but what?

The two alicorns were tiring already, the exhaustion of magical and physical energy expenditure beginning to show its telltale signs. Celestia flapped her great wings, keeping her distance from her sister as the two combatants drew breath.

“Don’t you think this is ironic, Celestia?” Nightmare Moon called to her, “To be here, above our home where it all began? Perhaps this was indeed fated.”

Celestia’s eyes never left her sisters. She knew where they were, that Nightmare Moon had purposely lead them away from the ponies fighting. She’d let her, she couldn’t afford to have stray magic hitting her people, but…why the castle? Nightmare Moon watched her quietly,

“Something the matter…sister?”

“It is not too late.” Celestia said lowering her halberd, “Nightmare Moon…Luna,” she shook her head sadly, “give up this madness. You’re hurting our people - they’re dying, the land is dying. We should be united, both of us…please, listen to me.”

“As you listened to me, you mean?” Nightmare Moon said derisively, “All those years, Celestia, of being second fiddle, of being ignored and pushed to one side because all you could see was what you wanted. Not me, not anypony else, it was all about you wasn’t it? It always was and it always will be.”

“Luna, such selfishness is…”

“-You have the audacity to call ME selfish?!” the Goddess screeched suddenly, “You think of nopony but yourself! All the time, every day, every single damnable minute, its always been about you! You don’t care a damn about our people, you only care about yourself and your oh, so superior ego!”

“I am not the one who called on the forces of evil to…”

“-Forces of evil!” Nightmare Moon bellowed, shifting the grip on her scythe, her smoky mane blowing behind her angrily, “You only care about ponies, don’t you? You care nothing for the other lives beneath your sun.”

“Those things were locked away for a reason, Luna!” Celestia retorted, “Demons and creatures father would not allow in this world because all they live for is to cause suffering and to kill.”

“You don’t know them.” Nightmare Moon replied.

“Don’t I?” Celestia shook her mane angrily, “They hunted me like an animal. One of them killed and ate a child from another world. It was a child, Luna…a child!”

The Goddess of the moon snorted, “So? All creatures need to eat, Celestia, even you.”

“And what of the ponies at Belle’s Orchard?”

Nightmare Moon shrugged, “Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

“It should…” Celestia could feel her chest tightening, “Your precious monsters set fire to the town. The hospital, full of mothers and their foals…” she felt tears welling up in her eyes, “Your beasts…they murdered them…they burned them to death, Luna. Dear Gods, can’t you see? Do you think this is the way things should be?”

“There are always casualties in war, Celestia.” Nightmare Moon said dismissively, “If you want an end to this, then all you need do is lay down your arms, order your ponies to surrender to me and…”

“Surrender? To them? To you?!” Celestia shook her head in disbelief, “You think I would hoof over my home, my world, to you your monsters? Dear Gods, you really are insane! Your crazed desire for that creature has blinded you to reality and now there is only darkness in your heart, and that…thing!”

“No, sister,” Nightmare Moon said quietly, “it is you who are blinded.” She lifted her scythe and shook her head, “ I had hoped you would see reason, that we could end this peacefully, but you only see one way forward don’t you? As always, its all about you.”

“Luna…”

“Luna is gone Celestia,” the dark Goddess said, gathering her magic around her, “now there is only the nightmare…the one you created.”

Celestia’s heart cried out, both in anger and in grief. Had she…had she done this? Was this her fault? No…no it couldn’t be, that…that thing she was…

Nightmare Moon’s scythe slammed into her, barely deflected by her halberd and slashing open a gash on Celestia’s unarmoured belly. White hot pain burned through her, blanking her mind with its urgency. Another swing came in, a burst of lightning, another and another. She had to block, to parry; dear Gods, where was this strength coming from? And then…then she realised…it was her. She was weakened, weakened by that horrible creature’s words. This wasn’t Luna, this beast wasn’t the younger sister she had sat up with at night and read stories to or sheltered during lightning storms as the frightened foal had snuggled into her. No, this was a spirit from the otherworld, a terrible thing of nightmares - the nightmare that had come to her home.

Nightmare Moon indeed.

Celestia gathered her magic, unleashing a pulse of light, giving herself enough space to pull back and…

The sky shook.

Beneath her, beneath both of them, the castle, their home, bulged out as if it were taking a breath, breathed in, and then burst. Green light, brighter than anything Celestia had even seen in her life, flashed across her vision, followed by a thunderous roar and blast of hot wind that blew the two alicorns across the sky like toys. Quickly, she threw up a shield, encompassing herself in its protective magic and looked down into…

“No…”

She couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t happening…was it?”

“No…”

Celestia shook her head in disbelief as stones, tiles, wood, and debris of all kinds, erupted from what had once been her home in a spewing fountain of magical fire. She saw the blocks, cut and formed by ponies centuries earlier, carefully placed one atop another, lifted into the sky and starting their descent back to the ground. Ponies ran for cover as the pieces of her life fell, smashing carts, homes, shops, walls…everything. Her ears were ringing with the noise, her eyes stinging from the heat and dust thrown out from the explosion. She mouthed the words, her voice failing her,

“No…Rush…”

The portal, deep beneath her home. Where once it had been, where Starswirl had been working…it was gone…

Nightmare Moon smiled to herself; so ended the life of Celestia’s pet wizard and his toys. Did the old witch really think she wouldn’t have noticed the unicorn had been stolen from the fortress? Did she seriously believe that she, the Goddess of the night, would not have known what was happening in her own realm? The children of the night, her silent eyes and ears, had done their work well.

“Rush…”

Nightmare Moon gave herself a shake, looking curiously at her sister’s agonised expression. “Rush?” She snorted, “Somepony in there you liked, Celestia?” she laughed, “I never did like the place…”

Celestia’s halberd crashed into the dark mare with a force that knocked her bodily across the sky. Coughing and gasping for breath, Nightmare Moon swung her scythe only for it to be blocked with a violent blow which slammed into her chest. Celestia’s eyes burned with a white hot fury and rage she had never seen before…not like this. The sun Princess, Equestria’s Goddess of the sun…screamed.

As if in answer to her cry of fury and pain, the sky rumbled with thunder, the trees shook and sent birds flying in terror from the epicentre of the magical storm that began to rage around them. Nightmare Moon lifted her scythe and spat out a gobbet of blood, staring down her sister, the white alicorn who was now glowing as white as snow, as golden as the sun and as lethal as death itself. She readied her magic and charged.

The contest was over in seconds. Celestia threw herself into the attack, her strength taking her sister by surprise, the sheer brutality and power was…unstoppable. Time after time, she blocked Celestia’s thrusts, cuts and kicks - dodging and weaving, trying desperately to save herself. Her sister had never been like this! Why? Because of some dusty old castle? Had somepony been in there she cared for? Another blow: a solid buck right to the chest, sent her rolling head over heels into a cloud bank. Barely even with time for a breath, Celestia teleported above her, the mare’s eyes blazing, her screaming cry of hatred filling her ears even as the halberd howled down, smashing Nightmare Moon into the ground with dreadful force.

The attacks didn’t stop. A tempest of directed fury assailed the Goddess of the moon as she did all she could to keep herself alive. For the first time, she began to realise what a terrible error she had made in fighting her sister head on. For the first time, she realised…she was losing.

Celestia herself…had gone. The Princess, so beloved of her people, was a whirling, screaming, harbinger of doom, the bringer of death and the searing light that burns away all that is evil and corrupt. Nightmare Moon, the demon that had stolen her sister, the beast that had unleashed the hordes of darkness upon her land - it had taken everything, EVERYTHING! It had to die, it had to - there was no other way. Focus everything, bring the heat and light of the sun…kill it…kill them all…

“Rush!”

Celestia’s tears flowed like rain, her howls and grief tempered in the magical storm of her loss and emptiness that consumed her heart and soul.

“RUSH!”

Nightmare Moon dove away, flying down into the ruins of the castle, their ancestral home, and now a ruin of what had once been a place of hope and joy. Most of the roof was gone now, with burned and ragged pieces of colourful royal banners hanging from the broken walls like torn flesh. Whole parts of the castle had simply…vanished. There was a crash of roofing tiles and timbers as the sun Princess landed amongst the debris of the throne room. Held in the magical glow from her horn was a key, small and innocent in its appearance, but one that made Nightmare Moon’s eyes widen in horror,

“Is that…how, how did you?”

Silently, the key floated into an almost invisible recess in the floor of what was left of the throne room. Staring in horror, the Princess of the moon watched as the stone slab groaned and slid aside with a loud grating sound. She had seen this once before, only once, when she had been much younger than she was now. Her heart thundered in her chest; it had been when they had fought Sombra, that being of such terrible power and unimaginable evil - he had been defeated by this equally terrible weapon. After that time, so long ago, their parents had hidden the key, preventing such power ever being used again except at the very limits of need. Now…now the pillar rose again. Small gemstones, seemingly innocent and yet so terrifying, floated around the carved stone, along with the final one, the purple star of magic, shining in the light from the sun Princess’s horn. It was the same colour as her eyes…

Nightmare Moon took a step back,

“Celestia…you can’t…”

For a moment, perhaps even no more than the blink of an eye, Celestia paused, the glow from her magic faltering. This was her sister, her beloved sister, the one she loved…like…like him…

Nightmare Moon screamed, launching herself at her sister. She had one chance to stop this madness before it consumed them both. She had to…

************************

The thestrals felt it before they saw it, all the children of the night did, from the lowest farm hoof to the Colonel of the Legion. Even as his warriors died in the consuming fires of the magical death falling from the sky, even as the news reached him that the northern tribes had deserted them…it was over.

She was gone.

Fulminata didn’t need to see the flash of rainbow light, nor the beam of concentrated magical energy as it burned through the heavens…he knew. They all did.

“Sir? SIR! What do we do? What are we going to…”

Bale fell at Fulminata’s hooves, a Celestian bolt through his neck. It was a fluke shot, a chance in a thousand, maybe more, but it was a harbinger of what was to come. Fulminata’s heart was empty. Where once the Goddess had filled him with her love and strength, now there was only the empty wasteland, the emptiness of the Wither World’s sea of sand as black as night. He had to save them - as many as he could. His people needed him now more than ever.

“All commanders, withdraw, reform on…”

Something huge slammed into him, knocking him to the ground with a grunt of expelled air. Blood stung his eyes, pain coursing through his broken body. Dear Goddess, what…? Scales, large and red and…there was so much blood…

“Colonel! Somebody give me a hoof here!”

Hooves reached down, pulling at him, shoving, dragging him from underneath the remains of the enormous lizard. Fulminata’s lungs screamed for air, but the pain was just too great. Darkness pushed in on him from all sides, threatening to take him down into its deep embrace. Voices around him called out, some familiar, others…others he had no idea…

“Get that damned thing off him!”

“The Goddess…the Goddess has gone…”

“Healer! Where the hell’s the healer?”

“What’s happening? What are we going to do now?!”

“Come on, we have to get him out of here!”

Trumpets blared and a great cry went up. Was it the enemies or their own? The Colonel closed his eyes. He knew the answer, he knew all too well.

*****************************

“Fight back! For Celestia’s sake keeping pushing!”

Dray roared his anger and slammed his sword down on a thestral who had dodged past a wounded pony. The centre line was beginning to give way. Damn it all! All that effort, all of it, and the bloody Legion were still starting to hack their way through. The bloody things were simply stronger, better skilled and better equipped, despite everything they’d done. If only he’d had more time, more resources!

“General, on your left!”

Wild’s shout of warning came just in time. Dray rose his sword up, knocking the thestral’s axes blow away and flicked his blade up into the creatures unarmoured throat and into its brain. Quickly, he withdrew his sword, allowing the thestral to fall - dead before it hit the ground. By the Goddesses, he hoped his own end would be as quick, but he was more worried for the rest of them, and for her, for…

“Heather!”

A huge crossbow bolt blurred past the corner of Dray’s vision and the large red mare sank to the ground with a cry of pain. He couldn’t get to her. Ponies pushing forward to replace the wounded blocked his view of the Major. The fighting was so intense, so continuous, he knew it couldn’t last, not like this. His glanced up at the sky: where the hell were they? And then he saw a glimpse of red to his left being carried to the rear, the mare kicking the medics off her as they tried desperately to keep her on the stretcher,

“Will you get off me!”

“Hold her down!”

“Bugger off, will you? Dray? DRAY!”

Dray smiled to himself. At least she would be safe at the rear. At least while there still was a rear. More wounded were coming back, and many more still that would never see another day. He lifted a spear and shoved a young soldier out of the way before launching it right into the chest of a thestral who was clambering over the mounting piles of dead and dying. The young ones were trying their best but it was a storm of steel and strength that would wash them away as surely as the tide washed the sand castles away he’d made with his foals. Polo, Dawn Dew…Honey…For them, for his family and his people, he would fight until he had nothing left in him. Nothing at all.

The battle continued.

The all too familiar noise of war filled his senses. Their defences had been effective, if only for so long, and they were breaking up the Legions attack - but there were just too many, and now the damned things were sending in the wendigo against them. Above all the others, he feared them the most, and with good reason: Ponies were terrified of them. They had all grown up with stories of them, and the folklore and myth that had built up around the creatures. some of it was no doubt complete fabrication and imagination, but the reality of their power needed no artificial inflation…it was deadly.

Silently descending on vapour trails, the winged creatures plummeted like falling stars, the howl of winter sending a chill into the hearts of even the bravest of their soldiers. The blasts of ice magic, seared through their ranks, killing and maiming as it went. Dear sweet Goddesses they fast, but their pegasi had still managed to bring down a few of them, the bodies of those still alive hewn by the vengeful Celestians as the strange creatures crashed to the ground - a grim fate indeed.

Horns blew across the field, the plaintive sound quite different from their own signals.

“What was that? Whats happening?” Dray reared, trying to see.

Chipper hoofed him the telescope, “It’s the Night Guard Colonel,” he said leadenly, “They’re going to hit our centre.”

Dear Goddesses, this was it. They were at their limit, they couldn’t take any more, not this.

“Sir! Sir!” One of the soldiers leaped up excitedly, waving her forelegs, “Sails! Sails in the sky! It’s the Revenge and the Wind Wraith!”

It was.

A great cry of relief and hope rang out through the Celestian lines.

“Thank Celestia.” Chipper said taking a swig from his canteen.

“I think we need to thank Captain Gretel and her crew.” Dray said with a grim smile.

Damn it all; he prayed they weren’t too late, but the good Captain had brought them what they needed nonetheless: Hope.

“Fight on soldiers of Equestria!” he yelled, “Fight for your homes, you loved ones! Send these scum back to the fires of Tartarus!”

In answer the lines heaved, the warriors pushing harder, hacking, stabbing, kicking, doing everything they could to try and turn the tide. The thestrals however, fought back just as hard, buoyed up by the sense they were close to breaking through and the Goddesses own elite troops marching up to reinforce them.

That was when it happened.

Everypony felt the magic speeding towards them and over them, flooding their hearts with it energy and drive. Hope, dreams, strength and life: it was all there, all in that wonderful flow of multicoloured light. It was the rainbow of the world, the colour of their Princess - the victory call they needed.

As if in answer to that magnificent light, the thestrals faltered. Everypony looked up; some to see the light of their Princess, others to see the blinding flash of magic as their ranks were incinerated in the blasts from the deadly cargo dropping from the sky galleons passing overhead.

“Praise Celestia…” somepony said, “We’re winning.” a pony clopped Dray on the shoulder, “We’re winning!”

He didn’t know who it was, in fact it didn’t seem to register at all, not really, only that he knew now they could do this. They could win. Celestia was with them…

Overhead a familiar pegasus swooped low, her voice high and full of excitement,

“It’s the Princess! Celestia is here! She’s here!”

Dray felt tears filling his eyes. Finally, finally it was their time. He lifted his voice, calling to his brothers and sisters, the people he had sworn to protect,

“Fight! Fight, sons and daughters of Equestria! The Princess is with us!”

The lines surged forward. The thestrals buckled, held, and then the tide went out, taking the mass of black armoured warriors with it. From high above, dragons fell like rain, great blasts of golden magical light searing away the clouds and throwing down the enemies of their homeland. Wendigo, dragon, griffin, thestral, minotaur…all of them - they knew their end was here, and for many, it would be. The vengeful Celestian army, the warriors of the sun Princess, their lands defiled and their friends and families killed, swept down upon their enemy, cutting down everypony, everything, within reach.

Dray’s heart leaped. What if this were a trap? What if it were River Valley once again and the enemy were…no…no they weren’t. Not this time. The look in their eyes, the flood of warriors heading back towards the forest and beyond; this was no orderly retreat of a professional army…this was a rout. If he’d had time to stop and consider what was happening, the Colonel may have contemplated the possibility of running into a rear guard, some sort of organised defence, but the Celestians were in pursuit and overrunning anypony who turned to fight. Adrenalin coursed in his veins and drove him on, howling and yelling with the sheer thrill of the hunt, chasing down their enemy with the magic of their Princess white hot in their hearts.

Nothing could stop them now.

*****************************

“What’s happening? What the hell’s going on?” The officer stood outside the tent with several of his warriors trying to catch one of those streaming past, “I said stop!”

A dark blue thestral, smoke pouring from his muzzle, slammed to halt, all but running onto the officer’s axe blade.

“Why are you running? Where’s the Colonel? Tell me!” Arc screamed into the warriors face.

The black coated warrior of the moon panted for breath, his eyes wild, “She’s…she’s gone. The Goddess is…no more. The Celestian witch…she’s coming.”

Arc lowered his axe, allowing the warrior to continue his journey north. He stood there, staring straight ahead at the flood of black armoured warriors emerging from the forest: minotaurs, thestrals… It couldn’t be true, could it? Their Goddess, Nightmare Moon, the Goddess of the moon…gone? Defeated by the white witch? He closed his eyes and choked back a breath. This wasn’t right, it couldn’t be! They couldn’t be beaten by a group of grass chewing slab toothed ponies! They were winning! The damned things had signed the surrender and it was just some insignificant rebellion that they were dealing with, not some…

“First Spear, your orders?”

One of his warriors looked at him questioningly. He was never asked for orders, he gave orders, and they obeyed them! Arc took a deep breath and stared at the tent beside him. Ever since that damned thing had appeared it had infected their beloved Goddess with some strange sickness. Equestrians used magic, didn’t they? That alien and unnatural power that was the domain of the Goddess - it must have been that. Of course, it all began make sense, didn’t it? After all this time, the foul creature had been slowly weakening Her Divine Majesty with his corruption. Arc could feel his muscles twitching, his teeth grinding together. This was his fault, that damned slab toothed freak! He threw open the tent and marched inside.

There, sitting beside the bed, was a black stallion. His mane and tail were black, his flank showing a white lightning bolt…yes…it would wouldn’t it? The mark of the spirits…the damned thing had been possessed after all. Arc narrowed his eyes; the colour and markings didn’t change who it was - the eyes remained the same, the coat, the build…it stank of Equestrian.

“You…on your hooves.”

Bracken obediently stood.

“You are to come with me.”

“No.”

“You dare!” Arc snarled at him, “Do as I command or I’ll cut you down where you stand!”

“Her Divine Majesty has commanded me to stay here and wait for her, and wait I shall…First Spear.”

The thestral took a breath and tried to find the calm inside himself. It wasn’t easy, but if he were to have this creature do as he wanted, to do what must be done…

“Bracken…”

“Moonlight.” The pony corrected.

Arc closed his eyes a moment, biting back a harsh retort, “Moonlight” he said politely, “Her Divinity has asked you to take up her banner and help rally her troops.”

Bracken looked at him curiously, “Me? And why would she…?”

“-I don’t question the Goddess, Moonlight. Are you questioning her now?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then take up her banner. You can still wait for her, but her people need you now. She needs you.” Arc stepped forward and clopped Bracken on the shoulder, “Be the pony you were meant to be…Moonlight, be the Goddess’s standard in this storm.” He walked towards the door, leaving Bracken standing dumbstruck, “It’s your choice, but you know what the right thing to do is.” He smiled, “Don’t you.”

Outside, Arc gave himself a shake, “Let’s move.” Together, the First Spear of the Legion turned tail and launched himself into the air heading north, joining the sea of others in their bid to escape the oncoming wave of Celestian wrath.

Inside the tent, Bracken stared at the banner leaning beside the doorway where the thestral had left it. The deep purple standard with the white embroidered helmet, the symbol of Nightmare Moon, his Goddess, filled his eyes. He could still smell her, still feel her warmth against his, and yet…something was missing. He’d felt it, a rush of heat and then ice cold, the terrible sensation of such awful loss. Inside, he knew something terrible had happened. He’d been dutiful though, he’d waited as she’d commanded, even after all the maids had gone, he alone had remained. Now, peering out of the doorway, he saw the hordes of fleeing warriors. Minotaurs, griffins and thestrals - some flying some running, but all were heading in one direction - north.

What should he do? He didn’t feel that same odd compulsion he had when in Nightmare Moon’s presence, but he didn’t want to displease her, or worse yet, betray her. It wouldn’t hurt to take up such a simple thing and stand by her tent, would it? After all, the thestrals were the Legion, and the Legion obeyed the Goddess. First Spear Arc was one of the most loyal he’d ever met, and amongst thestrals, loyalty was a thing that was sacrosanct. He shook his mane and stared at the standard. It was such a simple thing really, wasn’t it? It was little more than a wooden pole, a cloth banner, black and white tassels and a silver device, the representation of Nightmare Moon’s helmet, topping it all. He lifted it in his hooves and sighed; it was what it represented that was important, and of course…who. What choice did he really have? She’d be back soon, and he would be here waiting for her with a smile. Hefting the standard onto his shoulder, he walked out of the tent and into the mass of warriors.

Outside, it was utter chaos; armoured equines swept past him in a flood, their eyes staring and nostrils flared as they ran. Whatever had happened, it was clearly a lot worse than Arc had suggested. He closed his eyes, shook his head and smiled. He’d come this far, where was there left to go now? Slowly, steadily, he walked on, heading for the highest point of the land near the camp. The warriors flowed around him like water flowing around a rock in a stream. There he stood, and planted his standard, her standard. He stared ahead, past the mass of soldiers, beyond the forest and to the distant horizon. Nightmare Moon would come for him soon, his Goddess, the Princess of the moon. Bracken smiled.

She would come.

High above, the clouds broiled. Dragons swooped, dove, and circled each other, screaming and howling in fury as they tore at one other. Blood and scales fell like rain from the terrible wounds they inflicted upon their own brethren. Fire scorched open wounds, claws ripped at throats, eyes and wings - anything to maim and kill their enemies. Etrida and her dragons fought desperately, but it was a fight they couldn’t win. The Celestian Princess was here and she had already struck down two of her clan in the blink of an eye. She had to escape - she had a brood to care for and that foolish mate of hers would as likely crush the eggs as look after them. There was nothing more she could do here, and especially now as the Goddess, along with her promises, was gone. She had her pride, naturally, all dragons had their pride, but survival came first. Etrida trumpeted her commands to her people to withdraw; most would obey, but some…some would not. It was as it should be. Those lost in their battle fever and blind rage, would help slow any pursuit. With luck, they would get away, but she, like her clan, had to survive. They would have to fly far, far away, but they had to go…she had to live.

Bracken watched the great creatures flying before the onslaught. Who would have thought that some day, the simple son of a simple craftspony would be here, standing on a hillside carrying the banner of one of the Princesses of Equestria; the Goddess of the moon, the one who had seen beyond what he was, and to who he was inside. It was unbelievable! He laughed; nopony at home would believe it! Maybe one day he’d arrive home with her and the two of them would meet his parents and sit around for a meal together. He smiled at the thought, his heart racing. Bracken reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek. It would be all right. Soon, it would be all right.

Heat and magical exchange caused large gusts of wind to whip the banner in the wind, the thunder of hooves rumbling through the valley like a thunder storm. He could see them now, the soldiers of the Princess, his old friends…his old comrades. How ironic, that he was here holding the banner of the very force he had vowed to fight. How had this happened? Was he a traitor? Had he betrayed the very Princess he had sworn to protect? And yet…Luna, Nightmare Moon, she was a Princess of the very same land, wasn’t she? The Princess of the moon and the night. Bracken blinked and looked up at the sky. If he concentrated, if he looked really hard past the fire, smoke, cloud and magic, he could see…stars…so many stars…and there, a single crescent moon. The whiteness of it, the purity of its glow, filled his eyes. Bracken smiled.

“Yes?”

He blinked, “Huh?”

“Your name? Come on, hurry up, I don’t have all day like some pony’s you know.” The stange pony sitting behind the desk rubbed his horn, “Look at the state of this! I’ve never had to use this much magic in hundreds of years, and now I’m rushed off my blasted hooves and will anypony lend a hoof? No! Of course not! It’s all ‘Aethel can you help out with the new arrivals?’, and ‘Aethel, Craith is off on holiday with his family this weekend, would mind covering?’ Well, of course I said yes, didn’t I? Good old reliable Aethel! A bloody stooge, that’s what I am! Slaving my hooves and now my poor horn to the bone, to the bone I say! And what thanks do I get? Nothing, not a bloody sausage!”

Bracken stared around him. Everything was so white, completely and utterly white. The ground, if that was what it was beneath his hooves, was as white as the sky, or the walls or…wherever, whatever… His head hurt; what in Equestria was going on?!

“Are you listening to me?”

The pony-like creature behind the desk adjusted his glasses and flexed his wings with a loud groan.

Bracken blinked, “You…you’re an alicorn?!”

“A question and an exclamation! You truly have the most remarkable powers of perception Mister Bracken” The golden coated stallion announced sarcastically. He sighed and rolled his equally golden eyes, “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that today alone? ‘Oooh! An alicorn! Oooh!’” Aethel tapped a quill on the ledger before him, “I can assure you, sir, that I am not the only alicorn here, although sometimes you would bloody well think so!” His voice ended in a near shout.

“Anyway”, Aethel said clearing his throat and resettling his feathers, “Name?”

Bracken tried to pull himself together, “Er…I’m sorry, but where am I?”

The alicorn groaned, “Look, it’s all in the welcome pack. Now…Name?”

“Oh, it’s Bracken.”

“Just Bracken?” Aethel looked up at him from over the top of his glasses.

“Ebony Bracken.”

“Good, now, sign there please.” The alicorn pushed the ledger towards him and passed him the quill, “Do try not to slobber too much on it, I know what you earth types are like; that’s the fifth quill I’ve had to make today - I only have so many feathers you know.”

Bracken stared at the quill. It was one of his? An alicorn feather?

“Today…please?” Aethel said in an exasperated voice.

Nodding his apology, Bracken signed and placed the quill back carefully in the ink well. Aethel pressed a button on a small device on his desk,

“Miss Bunny? Ebony Bracken is on his way through. The usual please.” He paused, apparently just remembering something, “Oh, and can I have a fresh orange please? My throat’s dry as a bone here.”

A voice crackled from the device making Bracken jump in surprise,

“Yes, Mister Aethel.”

Bracken stumbled over his own hooves as he backed away in confusion, “Wait…I…”

“It’s all described in the manual, Mister Bracken.” Aethel propelled the confused pony towards a door that had materialised beside him, seemingly suspended in mid air, “Off you go now, there’s a good fellow.”

Bracken’s mouth was still working soundlessly as he staggered into the office, the door closing firmly behind him. He didn’t know what to think; what was this? Was he going mad?

“Hello, Mister Bracken.” The coal coloured earth pony behind the desk said in a disinterested voice, “Here’s your welcome pack and guide book.” She gave a humourless smile that looked like she’d done it a thousand times before, “Is there somepony here we can call for you?”

“Miss…I…I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s happening.” Bracken rubbed his face in confusion, his heart racing, “Am I…am I dead?”

“Didn’t Mister Aethel say?” Miss Bunny asked peering over her large glasses. She clucked her tongue, “Honestly, he’s so busy lately he’s forgetting the basics.” She held out a hoof, indicating the spindle backed chair in front of her desk, “I’m afraid, the answer is ‘yes’. Now, I know it’s all very confusing for you and that it’s going to take quite some time to adjust, but it’s all explained here. She tapped the pink folder embossed with large friendly looking gold letters. Inside were a number of equally colourful brochures and booklets neatly placed into pockets which had pictures of smiling and happy looking ponies on them. Bracken read the words on the front of the folder aloud,

“Eternal Herd Orientation Guide”

Miss Bunny nodded, “It’s all explained in the guide. The early part is a foreword by the author and a welcome from the royal family.” She passed him a steaming mug of cocoa, “Page sixteen is where you want to begin, you can always read the rest later.”

Bracken shook his head in wonder and sipped his cocoa; it really was quite good. He cleared his throat and flipped through the pages until he found the relevant entry,

“Some disorientation and discomfort may be experienced within the first few hours due to the realignment of the soul with the conscious mind. This is perfectly normal and there is no need for concern. You should begin to feel a sense of connection with your new home shortly after arriving, and your friendly staff at the welcome centre are on hoof to answer all your questions during office hours.” He looked up, “Friendly staff?”

Miss Bunny smiled, “Naturally.” She passed him a biscuit, “Now, do you have somepony in your family who’s passed over who I can call for you?”

“Passed over…” Bracken could feel his ear twitching nervously, “I’m dead…I’m…dead.”

“Ah…” the mare nodded knowingly, “don’t worry about it too much, it’ll take time for your soul-realignment to settle down and then you’ll be right as rain.” She peered up at the clock on the wall, “I’m afraid we’re out of time already, the next pony will be due any minute. Honestly, I can’t believe just how many are coming through these days, but then that’s war for you isn’t it!” she munched down the last of her biscuit and took the half finished cup of cocoa from the startled Bracken, “Come now, you must know somepony?”

"I don’t know, I just can’t think straight, it’s all so confusing!” he blurted.

The coal coloured mare trotted over to another door and opened it, “You see that large building over there?”

Bracken stared out at a brightly sunlit road, the neatly trimmed lawn, the lush trees and…

“The large building?” Miss Bunny prompted.

“Oh…yes, sorry.”

The mare rolled her eyes, “That’s the reception centre. Pop inside and see the receptionist and show them your folder. They’ll sort you out with bed and board until we can get you settled. In the meantime, do try and think of somepony you know who can come and see you? It’s a lot better when you can talk to…”

“Miss Bunny? Miss Bunny!” The box on her desk crackled with the familiar voice of Aethel.

“Sorry Mister Bracken, times up. No rest for the wicked, eh?” The mare trotted back round to the desk and waved towards the door, dismissing the baffled pony before pressing the button on the communications box, “Yes, Mister Aethel?”

“Where’s my bloody juice girl? I asked for it ages ago! Its bad enough I have to…”

Miss Bunny rolled her eyes and grinned at Bracken as he closed the door behind him. This was…insanity. He’d gone mad, that was it, stark staring, raving mad. Either that or the eternal herd truly was a nut house where the nuts ran everything, including, it seemed, the stationary. He flipped through the folder until he found a large word that seemed to sum up his feelings surprisingly accurately,

‘CONFUSED?’

There was even a cartoonish depiction of a pony’s head with a large question mark above it. He read on as he walked:

‘Right now, you may be experiencing anxiety and some confusion due to your recent soul-realignment. This is perfectly natural and should be expected. Memory dislocation often occurs during relocation. In the case of trauma prior to arrival, symptoms may often be exacerbated. Fortunately, in the majority of cases, these are temporary and the individual’s pre-mort recollections and memories should return in their entirety. You will also find your appearance has altered during your transition.’

Wait…what? He stopped and looked down at himself. Everything seemed, well…normal. His fur was all there, his mane was back to the colour it should be and his cutie mark was…it was back! It was there! He felt a sudden rush of emotion, a feeling of relief and sheer joy that the cutie mark he had grown up with was back and that awful white lightning flash was gone. Dear Goddesses, he was whole again! He stared at his foreleg too, it was…smooth, smooth and…’lustrous’? Yes! That was the word - lustrous! No scars, no injuries, nothing! He felt better than he had in years! In a sudden burst of enthusiasm he nearly walked head first into the large red painted door, quickly stepping back as a young stallion walked out past him with a mare chattering away at him incessantly. The poor fellow looked as lost as he felt. Was this it then? Was this death? He look up at the bright blue sky and puffs of pure white cloud, it was…beautiful.

“Hoy! Are you coming in or what? There’s a lot of ponies waiting to be seen you know, so you’ll need to get in the queue with the rest.”

A fawn coated stallion in a blue and red trimmed tunic waved him in, the large yellow badge on his chest read ‘Happy to help!’ Bracken walked in quickly, avoiding the stern gaze of the tired looking male. Happy to help…right!

The lobby area was a large open space with huge marble pillars at intervals; grand in its size, yet with a feel of functionality that was only emphasised by the huge number of ponies milling around, each with that now familiar look of bafflement at their current situation. Everypony seemed to be talking at once and the noise was deafening. Neighs, snorts, shouts and in some cases, tears, rolled over Bracken like a wave, adding to his already precarious mental state. Amongst it all, ponies in colourful tabards dodged and weaved, occasionally collecting one of them and taking them up one of the large flights of stairs. Every so often, a pony would trot down the other flight to be eagerly collected by what he presumed were enthusiastic relatives. Bracken found a vacant seat beside a pot plant and waited, clinging to his pink welcome folder like a drowning pony clinging to…

“Excuse me…pardon me…” A female voice shouted over the throng as a young mare pushed through, “Mister Ebony Bracken?” she checked her clipboard before raising her voice even louder, “Mister Ebony Bracken!”

“Hello?” Bracken waved a hoof, “Over here!”

The mare trotted over, “Ah, there you are. Right, room two twenty four.” She nodded to him knowingly, “Let’s shift tail, Mister Bracken, there's a lot of ponies to see today.”

The mare hurried him up the long flight of wooden stairs without another word. He stared about him in wonder at the immensity of the place; the building was simply…vast. In fact, it could be a serious contender for the fortress of the four winds. Secretly, he wondered if there was a bath house here? He could really do with a nice hot soak.

“Here we are!” the mare chirped, bringing him up short, “The case worker will be in to see you before long, so just make yourself comfortable. There’s tea and coffee making facilities, and a shower, but do please try to leave it as you found it?” She opened the door and all but pushed him inside.

“Oh…um…thanks…” Bracken smiled, but the mare was already vanishing back up the corridor. He rolled his eyes and closed the door with a click. He’d never seen anything like this! The bed, neatly laundered and smooth as silk, the curtains, the sink…hot and cold running water! He couldn’t believe it! The shower too, was something he couldn’t believe. Nothing existed in Equestria like this! He played with the levers, alternately burning and freezing himself until he found the ideal temperature. This was incredible! He laughed aloud, the madness and incredulity of it all finally beginning to sink in, almost as much as the water was sinking into his fur. Suddenly, impulsively, he began to sing. It was a bawdy song; a song of mares, of the life of a soldier and…

“Do you normally sing songs like that?” A voice from the bathroom door said casually, “There’s a towel on the side, when you’re ready.”

Bracken gasped, accidentally sucking in a mouthful of water and making himself cough violently. Quickly, he gathered his senses, turned off the water and grabbed the towel. Who the hell was that? He hadn’t been able to see with the water and…damn it! What a bloody introduction! What was he thinking singing that blasted song? Just as well he hadn’t got to the next verse, that one involved loofas and olive oil. He’d never quite worked that one out…

As he dried his mane he checked himself in the mirror. Dear Luna, he really did look the same as he had when he had just left home to join the army, before life had decided to half kill him. He stopped himself; actually…it had, hadn’t it? Sod it all, it wasn’t like things could get any weirder, was it? He wondered for a moment if Chalky was there. Bloody hell, he could have been a few yards away in that mass of equine downstairs and he wouldn’t have seen him. Still, he’d better see to his guest first.

One last look in the mirror and Bracken trotted out of the bathroom. The mare was already sitting in a large chair, her back to him. He caught a glimpse of a long slender green foreleg and the glow of magic surrounding a cup of tea - obviously making herself at home then! He smiled to himself and trotted round to the other chair and bowed,

“Hello Miss. Please forgive my…” His eyes went wide.

The sea green mare smiled up at him with her large yellow eyes,

“Hello Bracken.” Pickles smiled demurely, “Fancy meeting you here.”

Bracken blinked in shock.

“Hoy! Pickles, is he here yet? I swear I’ve searched everywhere for that boy and…” a long haired black mare trotted into the room and locked eyes with him, “Huh! I knew it was only a matter of time.”

Pickles laughed, dabbing the crumbs away from her mouth with a silk hankie, “It always is Neira,” she gave Bracken a wink, “it always is.”

Chapter Fifty Six - Unspoken

CHAPTER FIFTY SIX

UNSPOKEN

Celestia stood panting for breath, her chest heaving and her wings hanging limp by her sides; even her legs were shaking with the effort of keeping her upright. Her pegasi stood silently nearby, watching her with concern on their faces, but too respectful to ask if she needed help. She could have have laughed, but the horror, the dreadful calamity… Dear Gods…what had she done. Her fur was…it was…soaked in blood…steeped in it. She’d done things, terrible, terrible things…the young, the old, the sick - she’d killed them all…all of them. The wendigo, the demonic beasts that had corrupted her home and her sister, the thestrals that had killed her people, she had spared none. Those who had escaped her terrible wrath had fled through the portal back to their homeland, back to that awful place that should have been left locked away forever as father intended…the Wither World. It was truly a place that had been well named; a place where the cruel and the perverse withered and sank into their own corruption and filth.

It had been…necessary, hadn’t it? To do this, to cleanse her land of the taint of the Legion, to lose herself to the madness of grief and abandon herself to the magical rage that had taken her to commit acts of unspeakable…she closed her eyes…cruelty. Innumerable bodies lay around her: foals, mares, old…she’d killed them all, and her ponies too, had done this. Now, many of them looked to her with haunted looks on their faces as the reality of the terrible things they’d done began to dawn upon them as the battle fever seeped away. She closed her eyes, feeling a tear welling up, but this wasn’t the time for self pity, this wasn’t a time for even for celebration. No, this was the time to begin to heal the land, and her people. But first, she had to take care of things here. She looked at the blue pegasus staring at the bodies beside her,

“Commander.”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” the stallion replied distantly.

“Take your ponies and return to the army. Find General Dray, tell him…tell him to…” she trailed off, her voice failing her, “Tell him I shall return to him soon.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

They couldn’t wait to leave, could they? She couldn’t blame them. Who would want to stay in a charnel house such as this? This pass between the mountains, the place where those from the fortress had fled in their attempts to escape, was now a grave…a grave for the last of the wendigo. The pegasi quickly vanished into the clouds above, leaving their Princess alone in the cold reaches of the mountain range. Celestia took a shuddering breath, trying to fight back the tears, but it was no good. Like a dam finally giving way, her tears began to fall, her cries echoing out around the emptiness of that awful place where only the dead would witness her grief. She would never forget this, she never could, nor should she. But her people should: her ponies, her sons and daughters of Equestria. They...they must forget this most terrible of times. Celestia gathered her magic and with a blast of wind from her wings, flew up, high into the sky and stared down at the carnage below. She closed her eyes and spoke the words of ancient power, the words of magic her parents had taught her so many years ago. They were the words that could alter the world, they had the ability to change the land, mould it to the users desires. Father had used this spell a long, long time ago when he created Equestria. Now, his daughter used that same magic to cover up the evidence of her deeds. Snow, hundreds, maybe thousands of tons of it, ploughed down the mountainside, burying the bodies of the dead while she wove spells to ward and deter intruders and adventurers of future generations from ever venturing into this part of the mountains. She called to the winds, singing the words and bending them to her will. They would confuse and blind those who tried to approach, enveloping them in a blanket of white that would lead them in circles until they finally gave up and returned home.

Home.

Celestia closed her eyes and turned towards the heartlands, towards the place that she had once called home, and now stood in ruin. It was the home she had shared with her beloved sister, the sister she had…she squeezed her eyes shut and stifled a cry. No! No, she wouldn’t think of that! She couldn’t! Not now; later, yes, but…not now. The Princess swept her great wings, allowing the magic to buoy her up as she flew. There could be injured there, those that needed help. As much as her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest, she had to help those that could be helped. There would be time soon enough to find what was left of…of…Starswirl. Her last hope…gone…

The flight back was more laborious than she’d thought. Expending such massive amounts of energy had taken her near to the point where she could have burned out her magic without any help from Nightmare Moon. She’d lost control, lost herself to…madness. Rush would never forgive her for what she’d done. Who could? She laughed bitterly; he would never know, would he? She would never see him again, never see his smile, never again sit and drink tea with him while they whiled away the hours talking about…nothing, nothing at all. It had been too much to ask, hadn’t it, to have somepony who could just sit there, and talk to you. He didn’t judge, he didn’t criticise, he just listened and smiled that smile she could see behind his big brown eyes. Big for a human of course! Celestia smiled to herself sadly; she would only see him in her dreams now, now that the portal and her dear Starswirl, had been so cruelly taken.

Celestia shook here mane took a deep cleansing breath. Here she was, the last place in Equestria she wanted to be and yet her wings had brought her here as though they’d had a mind of their own. Maybe they did; duty had been instilled in her since foalhood, hammered into her as surely as the blacksmith hammers iron into steel. Below her lay the shattered and broken husk of what had once been the capital of Equestria, the seat of power where both Princesses, the sisters, would sit and rule their people with love and compassion. Throughout everything, despite what had happened, she’d hoped, she’d prayed, that somehow, there was some chance, some hope that they could turn back time and be together as sisters once again. How ironic it seemed that the centre of Equestria, the once thriving centre of commerce, innovation and the arts, had now been destroyed by the very two who had been charged with its protection. Celestia rubbed her tired face before flying down to land near the huge crater that had been the storage and manufacturing area for the explosives. There was nothing left here, just rubble, and a group of soldiers digging through the debris looking for anything salvageable, or…any still alive.

“Your Majesty!” One of the soldiers bowed low, his white coat and burnished armour coated in white dust from the explosion. His voice seemed unnaturally loud too.

“Soldier,” the Princess nodded in acknowledgement, “Were there many…” she felt her heart falter and passed it off with a flick of her mane, “…casualties?”

“No, Your Majesty.” The soldier replied shaking his head, “Most of the production had ceased and the workers were transferred to the transportation corps command. There were only a few in here when the explosion occurred.” He wiped his muzzle with an equally dust covered foreleg and shifted his grip on his shovel, “Those that were killed or injured have already been moved to the barracks.”

The Princess smiled her thanks and stared down into the hole. It was like looking into her own heart: empty, broken, and completely devoid of life. She reached out with her magic, probing, feeling…but there was nothing.

“Soldier, you are dimissed.” The Princess said quietly, “Take your ponies back to the barracks and relax. Theres nothing more you can do here.”

“You Majesty…” the soldier smiled nervously, “If you don’t mind, I’d rather just dig for a while longer. Please.”

She stared at him in surprise, taking in his bedraggled appearance and that of the other ponies nearby all watching her in silence. She nodded. She didn’t know why, and she didn’t want to ask. Celestia’s mind felt as empty as her heart: a wasteland of nothingness. And long may it stay that way; if she didn’t think, if she kept her mind empty and only thought of what needed to be done, then she wouldn’t have to feel.

The barracks were a good distance from here. First though, she had to find it, she had to know if…if it had…

The Princess gritted her teeth, forcing down the emotion that was bubbling just under the surface, and leapt into the air, flying over to what was left of the castle’s accommodation wing, and the royal chambers. She barely recognised anything there now, it was only really the curtains that gave away it away. All that remained were the remnants of walls, some stairs, pieces of blasted furniture, and the bookcase. She moved closer…was it…? No…it had gone, gone! Panic broke through the alicorns defences - where was it?! The box! No…no…NO! Where? WHERE?! She dragged at the remains of the book case, checking the drawers, the shelves, the debris field, everything she could see that could be moved, she checked, but…but it was nowhere…NOWHERE! She had to keep looking! It must be here somewhere! Her heart was hammering in her chest, her eyes wild in her desperation to find that most precious thing, the only connection she had left with him, with Rush. Now the portal, and even the only insignificant trinket she had of him were gone. A cry of hopelessness and desolation escaped her throat…it…it had gone…there was nothing left, it was all over…the dream, the hope, the tiniest glimpse of life beyond duty…vanished in the blink of an eye…

The Princess’s deafening howl of grief tore through the remains of the castle, echoing off the walls and sounding down the corridors. Those that heard that plaintive cry would never forget it; the day their Princess’s heart broke asunder. The soldiers digging paused and looked up towards the sound, but what could they do? They’d all lost somepony, or knew somepony who had. So many had simply walked away to the north with the army and would never return. Now, all they could do was focus on one thing…they kept digging.

Celestia lay amidst the rubble. Her coat was covered in dried blood and stone dust: the blood of those she’d killed mingling with her own and the dust that had once been the very walls of her home…her life. Her sister, her lover, her home and even her friends…they were all gone - everything and everypony - gone. There was nothing left for her here now, nothing at all…only death. Maybe…maybe Luna had been right, maybe if she’d only submitted to her, allowed her to rule Equestria in her place, then perhaps the two of them some day could have been close once again. The ponies may have come to accept the thestrals and others creatures of the Legion, some of them were ponies too weren’t they? The ‘northern tribes’ they called them, those that lived beyond father’s barrier, those that lived in an isolation of bitter cold, snow and ice. Whatever she thought of them, they were still ponies…they were still…Equestrian. Celestia covered her face with his forelegs and cried. Dear Gods, what had she done? What had she done…

“Your Majesty? Your Majesty are you there?”

A voice on the edge of the Princess’s hearing made her ears twitch.

“Hello? Princess?”

She recognised that voice. It was…Celestia looked up suddenly,

“Lilly?”

A pair of green eyes looked up at her from the rubble blow, the familiar orange unicorn mare sporting a pair of panniers waved to her with a smile on her face. Celestia hung her head,

“Oh Lilly…”

In a flurry of wings and dust, the Princess alighted beside her maid and embraced her,

“Lilly…Lilly, Lilly, Lilly…”

“Your Majesty?” The orange unicorn gasped, gently prising herself from the Princess’s grasp, “You’re…you’re hurt!” she eyed Celestia up and down. Dear Goddesses, she looked a fright. Her armour was battered, rent and scored. Blood, dust and filth coated both fur and metal, but it was her beloved ruler’s eyes that drew her in the most. Those large gentle purple orbs that used to make her feel safe and loved, now looked…lost, full of pain…and sorrow. Lilly shook her head and nodded to herself; she was the personal maid to the Princess, and she had a job to do. She smiled, reaching out a hoof towards her,

“Follow me, please, Your Majesty.”

She did. Where they were going, Celestia had no idea; she had to try and keep her mind blank…don’t think…don’t feel…time would heal, it always did…

Celestia felt as if she were in a daze, in some sort of dreamworld from which she could never escape and yet must tread as gently as the breeze in case she were thrust back into reality when the dream burst. Lilly fussed around her, pulling and pushing with hoof and magic until the tortured metal of the armour began to come away, piece by scarred piece. The sound of it falling to the ground was like some epitaph for her life, the bell tolling the end of everything…

Water - hot, soothing and delicately scented, poured across her back making her gasp in shock. The Princess opened her eyes: the bathhouse, it had survived? Of course, it was a good distance from castle, but where were all the other ponies? She went to move, but a hoof stopped her in her tracks,

“Please, Princess, don’t move I’m trying to get you clean. The doctor’s waiting to see you.”

“The doctor?” Celestia said distantly.

“He said his name’s Doc, from the King Sombra’s Revenge? He’s treating other ponies at the moment but I’ve asked him to see you once I’ve cleaned you.” Lilly poured another bucket of water over the alicorn’s back, “I’m sorry about the lack of a proper bath, but some of the stones from the castle fell through the roof and…”

“It’s alright, Lilly,” Celestia said absently, “thank you. This means more than you could know…”

The unicorn said nothing. Instead, she simply kept washing her Princess. Lilly had never seen such injuries. Many had already begun to heal, probably thanks to Celestia’s alicorn magic, but there was so much blood! A lot of it had been mixed in with stone dust and goodness knows what else, but a good sponging and brushing would get most of this out until she could arrange for a proper bath and a good soak for her. She took out her brushes and went to work on the Princess’s beautiful flowing mane. The colours seemed a little duller than usual, but it wasn’t unexpected; the horrors of war Celestia must have experienced, she could never understand herself, and she didn’t want to, but she’d heard enough from those brought back by the sky galleons. The blue coated Doc had stayed with others in the capital to help the returning wounded, and naturally, news had already come back of their victory. The Princess hadn’t mentioned it, but if she wanted to talk about it, she would in her own time. Lilly would be there to listen. She smiled to herself; she always was.

Celestia listened to the tune Lilly hummed and felt a warm stirring in her heart. So…maybe there was some light in the darkness after all, beyond the horror of war, far beyond the terrible suffering of her homeland; there was still…hope.

Lilly stood back, admiring her work and nodded, “You still need a bath, but you’re looking a lot more like you old self again.” She suddenly gave herself a start, “Oh! Your Majesty?” Lilly reached back to her panniers and began rummaging inside, “Forgive me, but I managed to rescue a few things from your chambers after the explosion. Most of it was a wreck but…” she magicked out a singed book, a few battered items of jewellery and… “Here we go. I’m sorry, but most of the room was blown to bits and…”

“The box.” Celestia whispered.

“Hmm? Oh yes, it was such a nicely carved thing.” Lilly said absently, checking for any more jewellery, “I’m afraid if there was anything in it, I didn’t…”

“-Lilly…”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Thank you…” Celestia’s hoof gingerly reached for the tiny wooden item. Dear Gods, was it true? Was this…was this real? Or was she still in the dreamworld? If she were, she didn’t want to wake, not now. But…it was there, wasn’t it? Virtually unscratched, in fact, it was completely intact as if she had only just put it down and, here it was.

“I had to give everything a wash, so it may be a bit damp inside.” Lilly said with a smile, “I’d leave the lid open for a bit to let it dry.”

Celestia chuckled. It was a simple sound, an impulsive reaction, but…that wonderful unicorn. She reached out and took Lilly in her forelegs, kissing her on the forehead,

“Blessed daughter of Equestria,” the Princess murmured, “you have healed more than any doctor could. You have given me back my heart.”

Lilly closed her eyes and felt tears welling up. What did this mean? It was just a box wasn’t it? A simple, empty wooden box? She sighed, feeling the still damp yet warm body of her Princess pressing against her. She’d hugged her before, as thanks for good work or celebrations, but never like this. This box, this simple wooden thing, meant something to her which she would likely never understand. But then, alicorns were a real mystery to her, and as long as she lived she’d never fully understand the Princess. It was one of the reasons her people loved her so much - they loved a good mystery.

There was a knock at the door,

“Hello? Are you decent?”

Lilly glanced up at the Princess, “It’s the doctor, should I let him in?”

“Impetuous isn’t he?” Celestia laughed, tucking the box into a cloth bag and hanging it around her neck. As for the rest, those items of jewellery, they were as nothing compared to this - this had more value than any jewels or gold. She nodded to her maid,

“Send him in please, Lilly.”

Lilly curtsied and trotted to the door, pulling it open to reveal the blue coated pony Celestia had last seen on the Revenge.

“Right, let’s have a look at you.” The ship’s surgeon trotted in and dumped his large bag beside the Princess and began adjusting the thin glasses on his muzzle. Lilly was incensed,

“Don’t you dare paw at the Princess like that!” she snapped, “Show some…”

“Lilly…” Celestia raised a hoof, “It’s alright, let the doctor do his work.”

“Hmph!” Doc grumbled, “I’m glad somepony knows how to behave.”

Lilly’s eyes went wide with indignation and then narrowed dangerously, making the Princess grin all the more.

“I don’t think there’s much for me to do here,” Doc said standing back up, “you seem to be healing up on your own.”

“She needs bandages!” Lilly squeaked in outrage, “What sort of quack are you?”

“Young lady,” Doc said, hefting his bag onto his back, “wounds like these are best left to the open air, not sweltering beneath bandages. Besides, they’re not bleeding and they’re closing up even now.” He nodded to the Princess, “If you’ll excuse me, Your Majesty, I have ponies to attend to.” And with that, he trotted out of the door, leaving a smiling alicorn and a huffing orange maid in his wake.

“That…that blasted earth pony!” Lilly squeaked in indignation, “How can he speak to you like that and…”

“Lilly, it’s alright.” Celestia said, clopping her on the shoulder, “These sailor types are, shall we say, a little brusque?”

“Bloody rude if you ask me.” Lilly replied abruptly and gave herself a shake, “Pardon my language, Your Majesty.”

Celetia smiled, “Nothing to pardon, Lilly, nothing at…”

An urgent voice from outside the room made them both look round,

“Hey! Anypony here can lend a hoof?”

There was a chorus of replies and more shouting,

“What is it?”

“Dunno, we think somepony’s trapped in the rubble.”

“Come on!”

“Bugger, I’ve just got clean too…”

Celestia turned to Lilly, “I have to go.”

Lilly curtsied, “Of course Your Majesty. I’ll arrange quarters for you in the capital for when you’re ready.”

Much to Lilly’s surprise, the Princess gave her a wink and hurried out of the room into the throng of ponies heading for the outer door. Few seemed to notice the Princess of Equestria was with them, so focussed as they were with heading for…actually, where were they going? Nopony seemed to know, but occasionally one would look up and have a double take, noticing the white alicorn hurrying along beside them. She just smiled and kept up with them as they moved as one force, one will, to help others. Celestia knew: this was what she’d fought to protect - this, this precious togetherness, the love and friendship of her ponies. Each was as individual as a single delicate snowflake, each with their own hopes and fears, but together…together was where the true strength of an Equestrian lay. Together, there was nothing they could not achieve.

They reached the crater.

The Princess pushed forward. This wasn’t right, she’d felt around with her magic and there was nothing there - no living soul amidst the huge blocks of stone, and yet, there was a soldier and some other troops, pulling and heaving at the great chunks of rock and splintered timbers. Others flooded down into the great hole; earth ponies, unicorns, pegasi, all working together with muscles and magic, rope, block and tackle, all helping to clear away the immense amounts of debris. Sailors from the ships had arrived and were hauling on great lengths of rope, pulling the block up the sides and away from whatever lay beneath. But…what was it? Whatever it was was deep, but nothing could have survived down there - nothing! The soldier continued his work, the others helping him dig until he suddenly shouted, waving a hoof for silence. Slowly, the white stallion leaned down and pressed his ear to the ground, moved a little and listened again. He stood up, nodding to his comrades,

“Here! Dig here!”

Work continued anew, and with a vigour and urgency that was inspirational in its scale and dedication. Block by block, timber by broken timber, the hole deepened, necessitating ladders to be brought up and drinks brought for the parched workers. Amongst it all, barely noticed by the labouring mass of equines, was the Princess, her coat now as filthy and dust coated as it had been before Lilly had washed her. She’d have to make it up to her later - the mare would be furious.

Something moved.

“Stop!” the soldier waved his hooves, “Everypony, stop!”

He began scrabbling in the broken pieces of rock with his spade, balancing on his hind legs and scraping away at the white chunks before him, and then…

“My Gods…” Celestia gasped, moving forward, “Its…” she stared down at the top of what looked like a large transparent purple glowing dome of magic. She blew the dust away and peered through it. Something was moving beneath it, or rather, some…pony.

“Hoy! A little help?” The voice came up at her, loud and strong, “Not much air down here you know!”

“Starswirl?” Celestia’s heart leaped into her throat; she couldn’t think straight, he…he was alive? “St…Star…” she coughed the dust from her throat and was quickly ushered away by some of the others,

“Princess, have some water, please.” A flask was pushed into her hooves, “Come on boys and girls, lets get him out of there!”

The resounding cry filled the crater, and the Princess’s heart,

“AYE!”

Work carried on unabated, a steady stream of fresh workers replacing those who were at the point of collapse. Some, like the soldiers, continued unearthing the huge purple dome, clearing away the debris until eventually, with the sun just starting to dip below the horizon, the glowing magical shield of Starswirl the bearded stood before them in all its glory.

“Is it safe to drop it now?” the blurry image called from within, “I don’t want bits falling down on my equipment, its very sensitive you know!”

Celestia motioned the others aside and cast a spell, calling the wind and blowing the last small fragments away from the dome before nodded to the soldier,

“All yours, sir.”

The soldier bowed to his Princess and grinned at the others before taking a deep breath,

“It’s alright, you can drop the shield now!”

In the blink of an eye, the magical shield vanished without trace. In its wake lay the surreal image of a room the Princess recognised very well indeed, simply standing there out in the open. Amongst it all, surrounded by a mass of bottles, wires and assorted apparatus of all descriptions, stood a very dusty grey unicorn, banging his hat against his foreleg,

“Look at this!” he complained “I’ve only had the bloody thing five minutes and look at the state of it!”

Celestia walked towards him, dodging between the piles of equipment until she was finally able to reach him,

“Starswirl?”

The unicorn looked up at her and shook his head, “A fine to do this, isn’t it? I was finally getting somewhere and then boom! Just as well I was playing with suppression fields or else I’d be jam right now.” He looked about at the ponies lining the crater watching him, “I say, has anypony got anything to eat? I’m starving!”

Somepony started laughing, then another, and then another. Soon, the whole crater, together with its dusty and worn ponies and an exhausted alicorn Princess, filled the hole with the joyful sound of their laughter. Starswirl shook his head in exasperation,

“I only wanted a bloody sandwich.”

Chapter Fifty Seven - Quiet Reflection

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

QUIET REFLECTION

Dray wiped his foreleg across his brow, the sweat stinging his eyes and making him wince. Damn it all, he was getting too old for this, but who else would do it? He reached back and unharnessed himself, leaning on the plough and stretched his back. The sun was still up and it was nearly time to plough the south field. He shook his head in resignation; that bloody army training of his - he just couldn’t give it up, could he? Schedules, notes, lists, it was as much a part of him now as the earth beneath his hooves.

“Ooh, my bloody back!” He groaned and stretched out his forelegs, giving himself a hard shake. Unexpectedly, Dray felt a hoof on his back: it was firm, yet soft, pushing into his aching muscles and massaging the tension and pain away. He sighed, leaning back into the pressure and rumbled low in his throat, “Mmm, you’re good at that…”

“I was going to say ‘guess who’, but you’re too sharp for me.”

Dray chuckled, “Not as sharp as you, love.”

“No.” a warm muzzle rubbed up along his neck and nibbled his ear, “You’ll never be as sharp as me…my big stallion.”

The General moaned, “What time are they coming over?”

“About four-ish, don’t forget to have a wash up before then.”

“Why are they coming so early?” he complained, “Tea’s not til…”

A hoof plonked itself onto his nose, “Tea’s ready when its ready, grumpy. You have your job and I have mine remember?”

“I know!” Dray said resignedly, “’Keep out of the kitchen…’”

“Damned right, and I know who pinched those bloody biscuits too!”

The grey stallion rolled his eyes, “Sorry, I know, but come on love, I couldn’t help it, they were just too good to stop at just two.”

“Insatiable…” the mare replied with a sigh, “Anyway, there’s another batch on so no more pinching!”

“No!” Dray chuckled, “I promise…”

“Really?”

“I…” Dray suddenly barked out a laugh as hooves began to dig into his ribs and tickle him for all they were worth.

“Who nicked the biscuits?”

“It was me!” Dray shouted, laughing under the assault.

“And you won’t eat these will you?”

“No! No, I promise! Please! I give in!” The tickling stopped, leaving Dray on his back heaving and shaking while he wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes, “That wasn’t fair, you know.”

“Aw, the brave general taken down so easily? You big foal!” the large red mare clambered across his belly and leaned down, locking his forelegs behind hers, “I’ve got you now…do you surrender?”

Dray snorted, “Aye…”

The mare lifted an eyebrow, “I do have a spare treat for you though.” She leaned down and lifted out a biscuit in her mouth, moving closer to Drays muzzle, “Fancy a nibble?”

“Heather, I’m supposed to be ploughing the south field and…”

The biscuit pressed into his lips. Goddesses, she was so close, her eyes so big and bright, the smell of warm baked sweetness…

He lunged for the crumbly treat, but she dodged away, grinning, “Ah, ah!” she teased, “You lead me a merry dance all these years, my stallion.” She leaned closer, brushing the biscuit against his mouth, slowly pushing it in, “Now…you’re going to make it up to me.”

“Mmmf!” Dray munched on the biscuit, one bite at a time, tasting the delicious sweetness of the crumbly treat and…

Wild pulled away, licking the crumbs from her mouth,

“Now, for the main course…”

*********************************

“Come on, for goodness sake, how can a stallion take so long to get ready?”

Gretel hurried around the cabin, gathering her things.

“Look who’s talking!” Chalk called over his shoulder, “You’re the one who started mucking about with that bloody trader when you said we had to get ourselves sorted out.”

“Well somepony’s got to think about these things.” Gretel fussed, grabbing her hat and coat, “Are you ready now?”

“Yes!”

“Finally!” Gretel took a deep breath and looked her husband up and down, pulling and tucking here and there, “Do you really need to bring that sword along?”

Chalk closed his eyes a moment, “It’s a formal event, love. Besides…it’s special to me.” He gave her a wink, “Like you.”

The red mare sniffed, “And so I should be.” She chuckled and gave her mane a quick final adjustment, “Well? How do I look?”

“Hmm…” Chalk squinted at her and leaned forward, adjusting her hat, “Delicious.”

“I hope so.” She smiled, and turned for the door, “After you, Master Wind Mage.”

Chalk dutifully bowed and trotted out. “OW!” he squeaked, jumping round, “Bloody hell, Gretel!”

The red mare grinned wickedly, her tail held high, “Just checking.”

“For what?!” Chalk called after her, rubbing his sore rump.

Gretel called back over her shoulder, “For tenderness!” She trotted for the gangplank, “Soft flanks!”

There was a burst of laughter from the crew as Chalk charged after the retreating form of the cheeky mare. Down on the dockside, several officers and crew joined them, in fact, by the looks of things, most of the crew of the Revenge were there. Trotting up to the meet them were some other familiar faces too: Strata, Doc, Gal the harbour master and even Chalk’s mother.

“Looks like the gangs all here.” Gretel muttered, “Are you sure your mum’s, you know, alright with…you know…”

“Gretel, stop it!” Chalk hissed, “It’s fine!”

Bracken’s mother and father greeted him as always, even his friend’s sister, now a surly teenager, gave him a reluctant hug. She was more interested in Gretel and the ship, and the little beggar had even tried to stow away on one visit after she’d had a row with her parents. Thank goodness Amy had told Gretel where she was or they’d never have heard the end of it. As it was, her mum was furious, but her father was…oddly accepting of the situation. Probably, Chalk guessed, because he now had the contract for repairs to the Amethyst Fleet, as indeed had his own mother, the two families now closer than ever after… He sighed, looking away. He’d never found him, no matter how hard he’d looked…and Goddesses, how he’d looked…

“Love?” Gretel nudged him, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” Chalk said quietly, “I…I miss him. I just wish…”

The Captain pushed into him comfortingly, “I know, love; you tried, we all did.”

They’d scoured the battlefield for days, given out descriptions to the burial parties, but of the black pony with the blue mane and grey eyes, there was no sign. Most of the dead had been buried in a large grave, unknown, or unidentifiable. The thestrals of the Legion and their allies had been cremated and their ashes thrown into the sea, the tide taking their remains away forever. Traders had made a fortune of course, themselves included: weapons, armour, equipment, the evidence of that terrible conflict, had been stacked into the holds of the Wind Wraith and the Revenge to be sold to the highest bidder, be it Llamalian, Yak…it didn’t matter…bits were bits.

Chalk had been inconsolable for days afterwards, worrying Gretel with his dark mood and uncharacteristic behaviour. Thank the Goddesses she was as strong a pony as she was. Other wouldn’t have tolerated his behaviour, nor his drinking or rages at the world. Finally, she’d thrown him in the brig along with a bucket of ice cold water for good measure. That had worked; he’d spent days in there, raging at the world, at Celestia, at the Legion, at everything until she’d finally come to see him…the red mare who had come to collect her broken stallion and remake him anew. And here he was - neat, trim and married to the most wonderful sky galleon Captain in Equestria.

“What are you thinking about?” she whispered.

“About you.” He whispered back, “About how much I love you.”

She shook her head, “Chalky, Bracken’s parents…do you think, you know, they’ll be alright? It’s going to be a big do and…”

“Will you stop worrying!” Chalk hissed, “Good grief, Gretel, you tell me off for doing that!”

“I know!” she replied, making sure nopony was watching, “But they’ve hardly said anything since he disappeared!”

She was right of course. Bracks mum and dad had taken the disappearance of their son surprisingly well. His mother seemed to think he’d be back to see them when he was ready and his dad did too. Rather typically, his sister didn’t seem to care one way or another. Maybe it had been the long adventures the two friends went on that lead Bracken’s parents to come that conclusion, but after months and then years had passed with no word, it became increasingly clear that the black coated earth stallion wasn’t coming back. And yet life went on: the world kept rumbling along as it always had, the sun rose into the sky in the morning and the moon rose at night - it just didn’t seem right…or fair. Maybe he was still out there somewhere having the time of his life; by the Goddesses, Chalk hoped so. If there was ever a pony who deserved a break, it was Ebony Bracken. Chalk couldn’t help but snigger…’Ebony!’ He shook his head and greeted everypony with a smile and hoof shakes. One day, in this world or the next, he’d see his friend again, and then…well, who could say?

“Come on you lot!” Cyclone shouted down from the Wind Wraith’s deck, “Get your furry bums up here, we want to get underway.”

Chattering amongst themselves loudly, the ponies boarded the sleek vessel. She looked like a new ship now, sporting a fresh coat of paint and gold trimmings. Cyclone herself, positively glowed with enthusiasm, her eyes flashing in the sunlight,

“Gretel!” she rushed up and embraced her friend, “What do you think? Can those griffin’s paint, or what? And the price! I’d have done it sooner if I’d known. You really have to get the Revenge over there.” She held up a hoof conspiratorially, “Don’t say anything to Stock, but I think the Lord’s got a thing for me.” She winked knowingly.

Gretel barked out a laugh, “Maybe. I’ll ask Amy when she’s feeling up to it.”

“How is she?” Cyclone asked, leaning on the railing, peering out at the Revenge as she rocked at anchor.

“Better, but dragon blood and fire caused a lot of damage, both to physically and mentally. She’s been spending a lot of time with Strata, Haggis and Salty lately, but they think she’s getting back to her old self, I just didn’t want to take her there…you know?” She smiled, “Anyway, how’s young Raid?”

Cyclone rolled her eyes, “A bloody nuisance is what he is! The little sod’s flying already and crashed into that lovely vase I bought in Llamalia.”

“Oh no!”

“I know, right?” the green pegasus said shaking her head, “It cost a leg and a hoof, and now it’s in pieces!”

Gretel sighed, “I meant, how is he? Is he alright?”

“Oh, he’s fine.” Cyclone said with a sigh, “He’s got my speed and Stock’s resilience. I swear, Gretel, the little fellow is part rubber ball.”

“Where is he?”

Cyclone shrugged, “Below in the play room. He had Pepper make it for him, can you believe that? Honestly, he’ll be running the whole ship before long.”

“Ha!” Gretel laughed, “You’ll have to watch him when you’re under sail then.”

“You’re not kidding.” Cyclone replied with a yawn, “He had me up all night flying around the ceiling and today he all but bucked the door down to get out after I told him to stay below. He’s a real hoofful I can tell you.”

“Sounds like a chip off the old block, if you ask me.” Gretel smirked.

Cyclone snorted, “Aye…you may be right.”

“Captain.” Stock’s gruff greeting was as typical as Gretel remembered. She reached forward and gave him hug,

“How are you, big guy? You looking after my other family?”

Stock raised an eyebrow, “All’s well aboard the Wind Wraith, Gretel, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Hmm” she pondered, “I don’t know, you always were a bit of a dark horse, Mister Stock.”

Cyclone tittered behind her stallion, looking away innocently when he turned round.

“Mares…” he muttered and walked off to bark orders to the crew before departure.

Around the ships wheel, the helmsponies had gathered, exchanging stories and gossip. Salty, Haggis, Salt and Pepper were chattering away like old hens. Gretel couldn’t help but raise a smile; she could feel the Wind Wraith now, as much as she could her own ship, and the sense of togetherness, of family, felt stronger now than it ever had. Today, for the first time in however long, she was able to relax and watch other ponies doing the work. Chalk had offered to lend a hoof, but the wind today promised to be good and the skies clear for some good plain sailing. Speaking of whom, a pair of white forelegs appeared beside her, along with a white muzzle resting on them and watching the water in the river below with those large green eyes.

Gretel smiled at him and carefully, silently, snuggled up to him. It was a cool day, a day when the last of the ice was thawing and the first hints of warmer days were on the horizon. It was all about hope wasn’t it…like it had been back then; the hope for a better, brighter tomorrow, for all of them - for everypony. The red coated Captain watched the river drift by, rippling along the side of the hull and finally dropping away as the sleek vessel pulled herself free of the suction of the water and into her true element…the sky. Chalk remained silent, occasionally closing his eyes and hiding his face before looking back out over the land he’d fought to protect alongside so many others. Gretel sighed; it had been a terrible price to pay, and one she prayed they never had to again, not in her lifetime or - perhaps one day - her foal’s. A shiver ran through her, not of fear, but of cold; it was still bitter this time of year. She spoke quietly to her husband,

“Are you alright, love? Do you want me to fetch a cloak for you?”

Chalk shook his head. A few seconds later he closed his eyes and smiled sadly,

“I don’t know what to think about all of this,” he said quietly, “memorials, speeches and all that sort of thing.”

“It’s so ponies don’t forget, love.” Gretel replied, “Nopony should forget the sacrifice that so many made.”

Chalk nodded, “I know, it’s just…part of me wants to forget, to put it all out of my mind. But…sometimes…sometimes I wake up in the night, and it’s all so real, all of it. I don’t think I’ll ever forget, but Gretel…I just wish I could.” He looked across at her, “Does that make me selfish? Uncaring?”

“No…no, of course not.” Gretel rubbed Chalk’s shoulders lovingly, “You’re the least selfish or uncaring pony I know.” She gave him a wink, “Except me, naturally.”

Chalk smiled, his eyes glinting in the morning sunshine, but that inner light, that spark of life within them that Gretel remembered from the first time she’d met him, would probably never be as bright as it once had been. The war, the terrible slaughter both during and after the battle, had done something to them, to all of them - she could see it in their eyes. Gretel sighed,

“The loss of innocence” she muttered out loud.

“Huh?” Chalk looked up at her.

“Don’t mind me,” she said pushing herself away from the railing, “come on hubby, it’s warmer below and they’ve got hot rum with honey and cinnamon cakes.”

Chalk’s ear twitched.

“They’re fresh too…straight out of the oven.” She leaned into him, “Warm and sweet…so delicious…”

“Hot rum? Honey and cinnamon cakes?” Chalk pushed himself away from the railing, “I think I could live with that.” He stretched and gave Gretel a quick kiss on the nose, “With my mare beside me, I think I could be tempted.”

“Come on, you.” Gretel gave him a gentle nuzzle and the two trotted below decks and joined their friends in their reminiscing and celebrations.

*************************

Celestia shook her mane, adjusting her crown and gorget while Lilly fussed around her like an orange tugboat. It still felt strange, even after these last few years, to have these upon her every day, to feel the weight of responsibility rather than the more tangible weight of her armour. She’d become so used to wearing it during that time, that… She sighed and shook her mane. No, the past was something that should stay there, something that should be learned from, a source of lessons to teach future generations. It was not a place for any pony to dwell - or an alicorn.

The palace was almost complete now, along with the new buildings, taverns, markets and traders that were springing up everywhere. The finest artisans and craftsponies had been brought in to help build the new capital city: the beautiful and elegant home of the Princess – ‘Canterlot’. She liked the name, it felt noble, regal even, and yet added an aire of mystery and anticipation, or at least, she liked to think it did. And what did it matter anyway? It was no fortress, nor was it intended to be. No, this was a home for ponies, a place of peace, music, laughter and song - a home for all who would share the love of life, sheltered beneath the wings of their Princess and the sun’s warmth.

Of Starswirl, there was no sign and no word. After they had relocated the massive portal, the eccentric grey unicorn had disappeared into his rooms and all but barricaded himself in like some pony shaped hermit crab. Only the maids ever saw him now, or her, occasionally, and the answer was always the same…’nearly’. She’d given him the box to use, as much as it tore at her heart to do so, and of course he’d promised not to injure it in any way, and yet…still nothing. Now, with the box gone, she had lost even that link to Rush. She sighed, and gazed at the reflection of herself in the mirror. Had she always looked so old?

“You look wonderful.” Lilly reached up and made a final adjustment, nodding to herself in satisfaction, “The royal chariot has been made ready, Your Majesty.”

Celestia nodded, pushing down the icy tendrils of dread that lurked beneath her calm exterior. It was a task she needed to undertake; not for her, but for her people, and Gods help her, she didn’t want to see that terrible place again. The land had healed itself certainly, the scars of war mended by time and nature, but the memories…the memories were still there. She kissed Lilly on the forehead,

“Thank you Lilly, you can have the rest of the day off.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She curtsied.

She wouldn’t of course, Lilly would wait until the Princess had left and then carry on cleaning and tidying until it was near gleaming. The girl had even taken quarters nearby so she didn’t have far to travel when Celestia needed her. Such devotion…the Princess smiled to herself sadly; in some ways she wished Lilly would just find somepony special and settle down with them. She could still work for her of course, still live in the palace, but, she’d found her happiness, and this was it. Who was she to criticise her? Everypony found their own path in life: some easily, some not so, but the path was always there, ready to take them on adventures for which there was no map, no clear course ahead - just hope.

The chariot creaked as she boarded and settled herself in. Her guards knew their job well, and soon, they were up in the sky with barely a jolt. It was a pleasant flight, one she would have liked to have made by herself, but a ruler had to uphold certain standards, certain ideals, and ponies expected this sort of thing. Inside, part of her wanted to throw off the trappings of her office, buck down the door to Starswirl’s room, snatch the box and just run off into the hills, to disappear from everypony and just…live…live and be free, like he was…wherever he was.

The chariot was beginning to descend already. Celestia resettled her wings and gazed out at the field of ponies arranged in a large semi circle before the huge stone monument. For a moment, just the briefest of moments, she thought she saw them - the army, standing proud with their banners snapping in the wind, the sound of trumpets and the rumble of hooves…

“Your Majesty…” the guardspony held out his hoof to help her down, shaking her from her distracting thoughts.

“Thank you, soldier.” She said politely, taking the proffered hoof and stepping down lightly onto that most sacred of grounds.

The monument was immense, carved from a solid block of marble from the royal quarry, the same quarry that had provided the stone to build the palace. It seemed fitting somehow. She looked up at the statue above, at the large stallion carrying the banner, the banner of Equestria - carved with both the sun and the moon. It was a symbol of both respect for the fallen, and yet also hope…hope that some day, Luna would come home and Equestria would be healed fully, as she deserved. Celestia ran her roof reverently over the inscriptions; the names of those they knew who had died here, carved into the smooth cold surface. There were so many…so, so many…

The Princess looked up once more at the pony holding the banner, the way he looked as though he were facing into the wind, facing down a great storm with defiance, pride and resolve. He looked…familiar…but then, so many of her sons and daughters had died that day, and the days, weeks and months before it. Could she have done things differently? Could she have… She shook her head; how many times had she thought about this? How many sleepless nights had she lain away remembering what had happened? She could still hear the screams, the cries of pain and fear…screams that she had…

A soldier bowed before her,

“Your Majesty…” he indicated to the podium that had been set up before the great monument, bedecked with the royal banners and a magical voice enhancer, courtesy of Starswirl in one of his more helpful moments. He hadn’t forgiven her for what she’d done: stealing his plans for the explosive devices and manufacturing them for use against the Legion. He’d gone beserk, raging and screaming at her with complete abandon, and yet, all she’d been able to do was stand there and hang her head in shame. Of course, he knew why she’d done it, of course he had, but the death and suffering his inventions had caused, had hurt him more than she’d thought. But then, she hadnt thought of that had she? All she’d been concerned about was winning the war and defeating her enemy.

Thank the Gods, Starswirl hadn’t left. She would have pleaded, begged, debased herself at his hooves if he’d asked, but instead, all he’d wanted was the devices destroyed along with the plans. She’d agreed; Gods, what a fool she’d been…

Celestia stood before her people. They were all there: General Dray and his officers, mostly retired now, the Captains and crew of the Amethyst Fleet, and so many more, all looking to her and standing respectfully. She pressed the jewel on the box and the magical device hummed into life,

“Sons and Daughters of Equestria, thank you for coming here today. As you know, today makes the anniversary of the second battle of River Valley and the liberation of our home…”

******************

Chalk yawned, receiving a jab in his ribs for his efforts.

“Goddesses,” he muttered under his breath, “Is that it? I thought my ears were going to drop off.”

“Chalky! Shut up will you!” Gretel hissed, “Quick, stand up.”

“Bugger it…” Chalk pulled himself to his hooves as the rest of the attendees stood and the band began to play the Equestrian national anthem. Chalk hated singing, and formal occasions even more. But that said…that statue, he couldn’t help but keep staring at it. For the life of him, it looked like…

”Brack”

Gretel shot him a look as she sang. She really had a beautiful voice too, if a little grating. Not that he’d tell her that of course, she had a lot of strength in those legs, that mare. But…Bracken… Oh Goddesses, where was he? The white unicorn stared up at the statue and listened as the final verse of the anthem came to a close. In a daze he sat with the rest, and bowed his head in prayer for the lost, for those who were buried upon this ground without a name, with nopony to remember them.

“Fillies and Gentlecolts, please stand.”

The Princess’s voice called out as the army bugle began to play. It was the last call, the one that signalled the end of the day’s orders and time for the soldiers to retire to bed ready for another day. Goddesses, had it always sounded like that? It was like the sound of souls crying out from their graves, calling out for their friends and loved ones to remember them, to always remember who they were…

Chalk shuddered. He tried to hold back the tears, tried to keep his composure, but it was no use. All his pain, all his suffering and sorrow, the terrible things he’d seen, the loss of his friend, all of it, mingled with the suffering of his fellow Equestrians…it was too much, all of it was just too much. How could he go on like this? How was he here and not with them? It wasn’t fair! None of it, none of it was…

Gretel held him as he cried, holding her beloved Chalk as the last note of the bugle died away, echoing across the peaceful stillness of the valley. Dray’s voice, heavy with emotion, echoed out around them,

“You fought by my side. You lived as my brother, my sister, my friend. We sang, we laughed, we bled, and we died…together. Those of us who live today, left a part of who we are, buried with you. But even though the memories will dim in time, even as the echo of the trumpets call fades, we will remember you. My brothers, my sisters, we shall always remember you.”

Dray walked slowly down from the podium to a large circular stone set in the ground before them, taking up a burning torch in his forehooves. The Princess bowed, as they all did, as the flame caught and flared up into the clear, free sky of Equestria. As one, they spoke the final words,

“We shall always remember you.”

Chalk pressed his muzzle into Gretel’s neck, mouthing the words his voice could not speak.

He would remember.

He would always remember.

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

“Your Majesty, the representative of the northern tribes is…”

“Chancellor please, I’m tired, it’s late…” Celestia walked on towards her chambers, the magenta coated mare hurrying along after her,

“But the Elder’s been waiting here for…”

“Chancellor!” Celestia snapped, rounding on the startled mare, “Don’t you realise what I have had to do today? Do you have any idea…” she trailed off at the wide eyed look of fright on the Chancellor’s face. The Princess took a breath and rubbed her eyes with her foreleg, “Look, I’m sorry, but I am really in no condition to see to the Elder right now, and i’m sure they would prefer to see me fresh and alert. Please, Chancellor, ask the Elder to stay as our guest tonight and make sure they are well looked after.” She gave her wings a quick shake, “I’m going to bed.”

Her hoofsteps echoed down the halls. Without carpets, tapestries or pictures, the immensity of the palace felt cold…empty. It seemed strangely fitting considering the sobre tone of the day’s events. Still, she’d have a word with the designers in the morning and see if they could move things along. This was, after all, supposed to be her home.

Home.

All this time, all these years, she’d fought the emptiness in her heart and now it was the emptiness of the new palace. It was supposed to be a place of light and joy, a focal point for the new capital city, and yet it just didn’t seem to feel ‘homely’ to her at all. Maybe some day it would, after some personal trimmings and colour had been added. She liked her freedom, her space to be who she was, but…why did this place feel so empty? Why did she feel so alone? She pushed open the double doors to her chambers, barely noticing the guards outside snapping to attention. Gods, she was so tired! Reaching, up, she unbuckled the gorget, allowing it to drop on the rug and used her magic to float the crown off her head and over to the bookcase. The Princess yawned expansively, dropping to her haunches and knocking the crown away from her as it clattered off the shelf and onto the floor by her hooves. Wonderful! What a time to give Lilly the day off…she groaned and pulled herself into the bed, kicked off her golden hoof covers and let herself drift away on a tide of sleep.

Rush looked into her eyes with his usual gruff expression. His eyes, so alien, and yet still mirroring the real stallion inside, made her heart melt. She could smell him, that strangely musky scent that made her knees tremble and her mane shiver whenever he was close. She watched him settle himself down by the fire pit and take the water off the boil. Quick as a flash, he tipped it into the tea pot, allowing the tea leaves ‘to dance’ as he called it. That always made her smile; the way he would describe making something so simple as a cup of tea sound almost mystical and full of ceremony. Here, in his home, in this dark wooden house in the bamboo forest, every single day felt full of mystery and wonder. It was such an alien place to her; no trappings of office, no austere walls, pillars, banners, or guards outside her bed chambers. No, here there was a simple bed in the corner of the room, far too small for her of course, and a pile of river reeds near the fire. That was where she slept, that was where she had lain as he’d cared for her when she’d first arrived in this world - and it was wonderful. The scent of fresh reeds tantalised and teased her, the aroma of fresh tea invited her - the human pouring it into the cups, the lost pony from Equestria…

“Tia?”

Celestia sipped her tea. It was wonderful…“Hmm?”

“When can I come home?”

“Rush…I…” The Princess looked up into the deep eyes of…

“Luna…”

“Tia? I want to come home, sis. I’m cold, It’s so lonely here…I’m all alone.” The dark mare, her beloved sister’s eyes filled with tears, “I’m frightened Tia! Please…please! I want to come home!”

Celestia heart leaped, “Luna!”

“Please! I’m so sorry! Please, I just want to come home, don’t leave me! TIA!”

“LUNA!” The Princess’s cry echoed around her chambers and she jumped up out of bed in alarm. Her heart was racing and sweat poured off her in sheets. Dear Gods, what a dream! Or…or was it? She closed her eyes and rubbed her face before dragging her weary body over to the wash stand. Lilly had done her job well as always; there were fresh towels, soap and flannels. A good wash would make her feel better. Yawning, Celetia poured out the water and set to work with the cold flannel.

A few minutes later, she gave herself a shake and placed the towel back on the washstand. She probably shouldn’t get into bed yet, not with still damp fur, but…but she was just so tired…

Fortunately, Lilly had banked the fire and it didn’t take much to get it roaring back into life, radiating its warming light and heat into the room. She could have used magic of course, it would have been simplicity itself to dry herself and sink back into the expansive bed, but that would mean facing those dreams again. She’d have to see the physician in the morning and see if there was something she could use to help her. This was too much, far, far too much…

The moon was still full outside, its baleful light showing all beneath its wan light the image of what had become known as ‘the mare in the moon’. She leaned her hooves on the windowsill and gazed up at it, her mind drifting like a leaf upon the river, and letting it take her wherever it would. Hopefully, someday, she would be re-united with her sister, and all the horrors, the pain and suffering of that darkest of times, would be nothing more than a bad memory. She closed her eyes and breathed in the night air, gazing up one last time at the moon,

“Goodnight, dearest Luna.”

She really would need to try and get some sleep, or she’d be no good for her meeting with the Elder. Such a meeting was likely to be…

There was a knock at the door. She groaned; a knock at the door at this hour? The Princess trotted over and opened it to reveal the sleepy looking maid standing in the corridor between the two burly guards,

“Yes, Lilly?”

The orange coated maid bobbed a curtsy, “Please, Your Majesty, pardon my intrusion at this hour, but you asked to be informed when the royal mage had news?”

**************************

“Shhh…don’t worry, my little one, we’ll be there soon.”

The foal snuggled further into the purple mare’s side. He was growing so fast now; each day his wings were able to bear him aloft just that little bit longer. Soon, she would have trouble catching him, but it didn’t matter, the sky was his element, not hers.

“Auntie Nutmeg?” the little foal looked up at her with his big blue eyes, “I’m hungry.”

The mare nodded with a smile, taking out a pot of squirrel portions she’d made up for him earlier. It felt…strange, killing and cooking meat for her foal, but it was all he would have. There no mistaking those teeth, the sharp points made short work of his meal, and some day, he would be able to hunt for himself. He would grow big and strong, a son his parents would have been so proud of.

Around her, the other ponies spoke in low tones, all of them walking with a single purpose, with one mind…to find a home of their own, a home where they could await the return of their one true Goddess. Rumours had been going around for some time now about the sanctuary far to the north, the place where true followers of the Goddess could find safety and a home to call their own. Nutmeg smiled down at the small life beside her and wiped around his mouth when he’d finished. The way he struggled made her chuckle - he was so endearing!

“How is he?” The old mare asked as she trotted up, tapping out her long stemmed pipe on a hoof, “He looks well.”

Nutmeg smiled, tucking the blanket in around the midnight blue foal, “He’s well, very well. He’s going to grow up to be big and strong, like his father.”

“You never met him did you?” the old mare asked, tapping the foal on the nose and eliciting a giggle.

The purple mare shook her head, “No. I heard about him from the others of course, but…no. I wish I had.”

“He was magnificent,” the older one continued, “a stallion who braved the fires that others feared, to save his family.” She shook her head, “I saw him that day you know, charging into the burning building. I saw the look in his eyes when he…” she trailed off, “it is a sad tale.”

“Do you think he will ever return for his son?” The purple mare asked.

“Maybe, if the Goddess wills it to be so.” The older mare tossed her mane, “Have you thought of a name for him yet? We can’t just keep calling him ‘boy’.”

Nutmeg looked up at the moon above them and smiled, “Born of two worlds, beneath the light of our Goddess.” She looked down into the foal’s sleeping face. The little fellow looked so peaceful…

“I thought I’d name him after his father, Tempest, and our beloved Goddess.” She looked up into the older mare’s eyes, “Tempest Moon.”

The mare smiled, “It is a good name, and one that shall remind him of his heritage.” She leaned down and kissed him on the muzzle, “Goddess bless you my child.”

Tempest Moon murmured contentedly and snuggled into his auntie’s warm fur. His dreams were full of the wonders of flying, flying so high that he could almost reach the stars…and one day…maybe he would.

************************

Rush collapsed onto the cold stone floor in a heap, his breathing ragged and laboured. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut as panic and fear tore at his heart.

“Starswirl! What’s happening?” Celestia’s cry of alarm echoed around the room.

The wizard hurried to the stallion’s side, fixing a set of peculiar looking goggles to his eyes while running an equally strange apparatus over the prostrate brown pony. He lifted his eyelids and stared into the pony’s dilated pupils,

“He’s going into shock, we need a physician down here quickly.”

“GUARDS!” Celestia burst into the corridor, “Fetch the royal physician, NOW!”

The poor startled stallion dropped his spear and tore off at breakneck speed up the corridor, leaving the Princess to hurry back to Rush’s side,

“Rush…Rush can you hear me?”

“T…Tia…” Rush’s gasps and shaking continued unabated, his legs kicking helplessly.

Celestia could see the pain in his contorted features, his muscles twitching under his skin as if snakes were writhing within him,

“Starswirl, please!” she pleaded, “Do something!”

“I’m not a doctor, Celestia, I’m doing all I can!” The wizard began setting up devices around Rush, shooing the Princess out of the way, “His mind, body, and soul are out of synchronisation. Has he been in this other world his whole life?”

“Yes!” Celestia tried desperately to keep herself calm, but it was a losing battle, “He was born over there.”

“Equestrian parents?”

“Yes!”

Starswirl shook his head and adjusted his equipment, “Damn it all! Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I…”

“Never mind, we have to do something now or he’s going to die.” He jumped to his hooves, “We have to get him somewhere warm and get fluids into him.”

“My chambers!” Celestia replied in a panic, “Help me lift him.”

Wrapping the chocolate brown pony in their combined magic, Rush was floated onto the Princess’s back while Starswirl grabbed a set of panniers,

“I need to get some things: go! Go now!”

In a flurry of hooves, Celestia charged off down the halls, stairs and corridors of the palace, tearing past surprised staff and guards as she headed for her rooms. She could feel Rush’s heart beat, feel his chest heaving against her back, even as she ran for all she was worth. As frightening as the situation was, at least he was still breathing, but she had to get him warm - and fast. She nearly lost her balance when she took the last corner too quickly, flaring her wings to help her right herself as she tore past the startled guards and slammed the doors closed behind her. Weaving magic as quickly as possibly, she pulled out her spare quilts and blankets from the linen cupboard and lay them out in front of the fire before gently lowering the panting stallion onto the makeshift bed. A few more threads of magic and the fire roared into life, filling the room with its heat. Firmly, but carefully, she lifted Rush’s head and tipped a glass of water towards him,

“Rush, you have to drink. It’s only water, it’s alright.” She spoke quietly, calmly, but inside, her heart was screaming in panic and distress of her own. Where was Starswirl? Where was the physician? Why were they taking so long?!

As if in answer to her unspoken questions, the door flew open, the brown and white royal surgeon hurrying in, closely followed by Starswirl and a floating bag of equipment. The surgeon leaned down and listened to Rush’s chest and shook his head, looking up at Starswirl,

“It’s not good, we need to get him stabilised.” He pulled over his bag and began to rummaging inside, “Blackweed root…” he muttered, and pulled out a small jar labelled with a skull and crossbones.

“What’s that?” Celestia asked, “Did you say ‘Blackweed’? That’s poison!”

“Princess, please.” The surgeon said pouring the contents into a beaker, “I have to do this; if not, his organs will fail and he’ll die.” He reached across and poured some water into the mixture before swirling it with a stick, “Hold his head up and open his mouth.”

Rush’s body convulsed and he gasped in a breath as the fluid began to pour in. Suddenly he kicked out, knocking the surgeon away and sending the beaker of mixture into the air. Quick as a flash, the Princess drew her magic around the fluid and the beaker, bringing it to her own mouth. There was one way to do this; she took a deep breath, and then poured the contents into her own mouth. Impropriety or not, she had to do this, or else…no, she wouldn’t think that, not now, not after they’d come so far! Celestia clamped her mouth over Rush’s and allow the concoction to trickle down his throat. He thrashed and gasped, fighting against whatever invisible demons fought within him, but at least she’d managed to do this much. Beside her, Starswirl and the surgeon were hard at work, setting up magical apparatus around the two of them, until finally, Starswirl nodded to himself in satisfaction,

“Your Majesty, we have to move out of the magic field and let it do its work.”

She looked up, finally noticing the long brass tripods that had been set up around them. Each one was topped with a large white crystal that glowed with a faint inner light. Starswirl held out his hoof to her,

“Quickly, the field’s already building.”

Celestia reluctantly lowered Rush’s head, stepping around him to the grey unicorn. He smiled at her reassuringly, his voice unusually gentle and caring,

“Watch.”

The ponies stood in silence, the only other sounds the occasional crackle and pop from the fire and the wheezing of Rush’s chest. He wasn’t thrashing now, so…so maybe the Blackweed was doing its job? Celestia looked to the surgeon who nodded to her confidently. She wished she could have felt the same way. Rush was…Rush…

Starswirl laid his hoof on her shoulder and nodded towards the white glow that was building between the crystals. Slowly but steadily, the glow began to envelop the chocolate brown stallion and then, as Celestia watched in mounting horror, she saw them: long strands of white light, like thin serpents dancing around his prostrate form, wriggling and writhing horribly. She felt sickened and horrified simultaneously, but before she could utter a word, Starswirl lifted his staff and began to mumble under his breath. Celestia watched in fascination as the wizard did his work. He reminded her of a snake charmer she’d seen when she was a foal on a diplomatic visit to the griffin kingdom. The way he moved, the way the staff followed the threads movements, or was it the other way around? The way he seemed to be able to command the white threads was fascinating; his face full of intense concentration. As the Princess watched, one by one, the threads began to slow their gyrations and sink back into the stallion’s body, absorbed by his life energy. She recognised some of the words, some of the magic Starswirl was using, but this…this was beyond anything she would have expected a pony to be able to learn. Thanks the Gods he had, and more so, that he was here.

The glow from the crystals was dimming now, and with a final incantation, the bearded grey unicorn trotted round and collected his equipment. He nodded to the physician who shook his head in amazement,

“Thank you, I’ll take it from here.”

Starswirl nodded and yawned, “Well, that’s that then. Now, a good nights sleep will do us all the world of good.” He gave Celestia a wink, “You too young lady.”

“Young…?” She was hundreds, if not thousands of years older than he was! The cheeky…

“Thank you, Master Starswirl,” she smiled, “before you leave for some well earned rest, may I ask: what did you do?”

“Oh, simple enough.” He said scratching an ear, “His soul, body and mind needed to be re-aligned. Wouldn’t normally be a problem I expect, but what with being born on another world and living there all his life, his body had all but forgotten what it really was.” He fished out his pipe from his satchel and began loading it, “The soul remembers though.”

“What about those white threads?”

Starswirl smiled mysteriously, “Have you ever knitted something?”

Celestia nodded; she had once - a scarf. It hadn’t worked out too well and she’d ended up stuffing it in a drawer where it had remained ever since.

“If you make a mistake, sometimes you have to unravel your work back to the point before the error and re-knit it properly.” Starswirl shrugged, “There’s always a pattern, you just let the soul guide you.”

The Princess shook her head in astonishment.

Waving a hoof, the enigmatic wizard walked out of the room in a cloud of grey tobacco smoke,

“Good night all!”

Celestia sank to her haunches and quickly turned to watch what the physician was doing. Not much as it turned out, he was already packing his things to leave.

“You’re going?” she asked in surprise.

“I’ve done all I can.” The stallion replied matter-of-factly, “He’s been through a lot, but he’s resting now. You’ll have to make sure he takes in plenty of fluids when he wakes up though, and takes these tablets.” He passed her a jar with bright yellow pills inside, “One, three times a day, until he’s on his hooves.” He clicked his bag closed, “The rest is up to him now.” He bowed low, “By your leave, Your Majesty.”

The Princess bowed in reply, watching the door close behind the brown and white stallion, leaving her alone with Rush; alone…in her bedchamber…Giving herself a shake at her scandalous imagination, she moved closer to him and reached out with a hoof, paused and then put it back down. No, it wouldn’t be right, not now. Rush was sick…well, not exactly sick, but weak certainly. Bringing him here had been more of an ordeal for him than she’d thought. In fact, she hadn’t really thought about it at all, she’d just assumed that like her, like his mother even, he would simply ‘change’ when he got here and that would be that. By the Gods she’d been so stupid! Had she been so blinded by her selfish desire to bring him to Equestria that she hadn’t even considered what it would do to him? She’d nearly killed him! A single tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the floor.

“Tia…”

Her eyes flew open and she leaned down, “Rush? Don’t move, your body’s adjusting to our world. The physician said you need to rest.”

Rush slowly opened his eyes, blinking in the firelight. A pair of bright blue orbs as pure as the morning sky, gazed up at the Princess and her heart leaped - they were so blue! The same colour, she realised, as his father’s had been. His mane and tail too, were a rich cream he had inherited from his mother. Carefully, she reached down and helped him take a sip of his water. He gave her a weak smile,

“Tia, where?”

“You’re in the palace, in my room.”

He seemed to be struggling with something internally, squeezing his eyes shut as if in pain and then looked away,

“My body…it feels wrong…”

“You’ve been in the human world all your life, Rush.” Celestia explained gently, “It will take a little time for you to adjust to your new life here.”

He was like a newborn foal: unsure, unsteady, and yet so full of promise. She couldn’t but smile, and reached down to brush some stray hairs from his muzzle.

“My…my hands…”

“Hmm?” Celestia looked down at his legs, “I don’t know, I never had them, but your hooves look just fine.”

Rush licked his lips. By the Gods, everything felt so strange, so absolutely terrifying. His hands, his arms, his legs, every single part of him, was wrong…and yet…no, not ‘wrong’, that wasn’t the word. No, he felt…’alien’. Was this how he was meant to be?

“Rush, are you in pain?” Celestia asked stroking his mane, “I can ask the physician to fetch you something.”

The chocolate brown pony shook his head, “No, I’m not it pain, just…I don’t know…” he licked his lips, “Even my mouth feels funny.” He stuck his tongue out and licked his nose, making Celestia’s eyes go wide in amusement. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight! The sound of her mirth and the gleam in those beautiful purple eyes, eased the turmoil in Rush’s heart. Despite how strange everything was, the feel of her hooves against his body seemed to make his fear melt away as though it had never been. He took a deep breath, the scent of the Princess tantalising his nostrils so much more intensely than it had in his world. He huffed…this was his world, this, the one in his dreams, it was… He shifted a foreleg, trying to find his balance. Celestia quickly lay a hoof on him,

“Rush, please, don’t try to stand just yet, give yourself…”

Rush snorted loudly, “I have to.” He look into her eyes with such conviction, she knew that there was little she could do to stop him. Secretly, she wanted to see him stand, but, was it too soon?

“Damn it!” Rush flailed around, trying to get his legs under him and put his arms out and push, but…why were…”Bloody hell!” his head thumped off the bedding and he started to feel giddy.

“Shhh…” Celestia lay her hoof upon him, “Here, let me show you.”

Rush watched as the Princess moved around to lay down before him. She smiled encouragingly, “Pull your hind legs under you like this…”

He did so, feeling the odd sensation of joints and muscles that were almost back to front. In fact…were they? He gave himself a mental shake and concentrated on what he was being shown.

“Good.” Celestia nodded, “Now, sit upright with your forelegs out in front of you.”

Rush took a breath and stretched. His arms, or rather ‘forelegs’, reached out and he found, with his rear hooves and legs tucked under himself, he actually felt quite comfortable - it was easier to breath too.

“Now, push yourself up with your forelegs, one at a time.” She pushed herself back up until she was sitting on her haunches, “You’ll feel a balance there, just enough so you feel comfy.” She gave him a…did she wink at him?

Rush pushed. That was simply enough, apart from feeling like he wanted to stretch his fingers out…if he’d had any.

Celestia gave her mane a shake, drawing his attention back to her, “Ready?”

He nodded.

“Now, rock forward a little, and push with your hind legs until you’re up.” The Princess rose elegantly from the floor, “Like that.”

Rush gritted his teeth. Dear Gods, even they felt weird! With a deep breath he pushed back with his hind legs, the unfamiliar things pushing him up and…

“Gah!”

Horribly, the world lurched around him, his stomach heaved and he lost his balance completely. He staggered sideways, trying to catch himself, but his centre of gravity here was completely different to what he was used to. Great Gods, how was he ever going to get used to this!?

Forelegs caught him, the white form of the Princess appearing before him, those large eyes gazing into his encouragingly, “Calm…” she said quietly, “Calm…”

Rush’s heart was thundering, his legs shaking like jelly. Calm? He felt like he wanted to scream! And now…was she laughing at him? Dear Gods, she was! Rush frowned,

“It’s not funny!” he snapped, “It’s…AGH!”

He stumbled again, caught once more by the alicorn Princess. Her forelegs stopped him from launching himself into the fireplace,

“Whoa there!” she giggled, “Nearly lost you that time.”

“Tia! Please!” Rush gasped, but the Princess kept shaking with barely contained laughter. She suddenly sat back on her haunches and leaned her muzzle against him,

“Oh Rush!” she said wiping the tears from her eyes, “You look like a newborn foal! It’s so adorable!”

He didn’t know what to say, but he certainly wouldn’t describe his current situation as adorable!

Celestia lifted his chin with her hoof, “Listen to your heart. Remember the memories of running, of the grass on the hillside and the sun high in the sky.”

Rush closed his eyes.

“Can you see it? Can you feel the wind in your mane, the water sparkling in the river? It’s waiting for you Rush, it’s all here…” The Princess leaned closer, the warmth from her making his heart race, “you’re home.”

“I’m…I’m home?” Rush blinked, a stray tear rolling down his face. And then, for the first time, he was truly able to take in his surroundings: the bed, the table and chairs, the cupboards, the roaring fire, and the beautiful creature standing before him. He’d dreamed of this, he’d wanted so much to be here, with her. He reached a hoof up to his face and stared at it,

“I’m…a pony…”

“An earth pony, yes.” Celestia smiled, “A very beautiful earth pony.”

Rush snorted, “I’ll take your word for that.”

Rolling her eyes, the Princess pointed to the mirror above the fireplace, “See for yourself.”

The chocolate brown stallion with the cream mane and blue eyes stared back at him. He blinked. The pony in the mirror blinked. He flicked his ear. The mirror pony flicked his ear. Rush pawed at his muzzle and shook his head in amazement,

“Willow…”

“You have her colouring,” Celestia said walking up beside him, “and you father’s eyes.”

Rush felt a sudden surge of emotion. Feelings he’d kept locked away for so long; memories, dreams, hopes, all of it, flooded his senses. Tears filled his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and dropped to the floor like rain. In embarrassment, he tried to look away, but Celestia took his muzzle in her hooves and placed a kiss upon his forehead,

“It’s alright, my little one, don’t hide how you feel.” She rubbed her muzzle against his, her voice so soft and gentle, “You’re home now.”

Rush couldn’t speak; the years of emptiness, the years of being alone in the forest - it all felt like a dream, a dream he was only just now waking up from. Gingerly, he reached up a foreleg and tentatively touched the Princess’s mane. She lifted his hoof with hers, kissing it and holding it against her neck with that smile, the smile that melted his heart.

“I missed you.” he said, “Every day, every week, every month that went by, I…I always…”

Celestia nodded, “I know.” She shuddered, “I wanted this so much, to be here, with you.”

Rush pushed into her, “I tried to tell you, I wanted to, but…”

“You can tell me now.” Celestia’s cheeks flushed pink, her voice little more than the barest whisper “…If you like.”

Opening his mouth, Rush paused, scratching his muzzle and turned beet red, “I…that is, um…”

Grinning, Celestia lifted his muzzle, “Stallions…” she murmured and brought her lips to his. Rush closed his eyes and felt the softness of the Princess against him, her warm and feminine fragrance nearly sending him to his knees. Carefully, he reached up and drew her into him.

Sometimes, he thought to himself, dreams really can come true.

FIN

Chapter One - A Winters Dream

ICE FALL

CHAPTER ONE

A WINTERS DREAM

“Whose bloody stupid idea was this again? Remind me so I can buck them into next week when we get back will you?” The unicorn pulled his scarf up around his muzzle, blinking away the stinging snow from his eyes. Behind him, the black coated stallion snorted, his warm breath creating clouds of steam around his muzzle,

“It’s your own stupid fault we’re out here freezing our nuts off. You and your huge mouth, you just don’t know when to shut up do you?”

Shifting his spear into a more comfortable position on his saddle pack, the unicorn shook his head slightly,

“For the goddess’s sake Brack, it was a joke that was all. You remember them don’t you? Or have you had your sense of humour sucked out of you like the rest of those miserable buggers.”

Bracken raised an eyebrow, fixing his colleague with a stern grey eyed glare, “A joke? You peed in the Captain’s fruit juice and you call that a joke? Are you nuts?!”

Chalk Dust shrugged, “It was only a little bit for Celestia’s sake, and besides, it could have been worse.”

The black stallion rounded on him, “How? How exactly could it have possibly been worse? We’re out here in the middle of bloody nowhere, half frozen to death with no idea where the hell we are!”

“Well”, Chalk said in what he hoped was a philosophical manner, “We could have been executed. Now that would definitely have been worse.”

Bracken whacked him in the chest with an armoured hoof, “You, you mean! You could have been executed, not me! I was only dragged into this goddess forsaken mess because I’m the poor sod who bunks with you!”

The white stallion huffed, “Well, Captain Fry did say to take a friend, and so…here you are.”

Bracken nearly choked, trying to get his words together.

“Come on then slowpoke”, Chalk said clopping the other soldier on the shoulder, “We need to find some shelter or we really will freeze to death.”

Icy wind whipped around them, the bitter cold causing tiny crystals of ice to form on their exposed fur and around their muzzles. Despite the bright blue sky and sunshine, the plummeting temperature in the mountains was beginning to affect them, slowing their movements as they trudged on towards the largest of the peaks. Bracken shook his mane, trying to bring a little warmth back into his body. Celestia damn this place! It was all Chalky’s fault they were here in the first place and, he hated to admit, his for opening his big mouth in his friends defence. He groaned inwardly. That impetuous damned fool! Captain Shallow Fry was the most unpopular officer in the army for a reason and, as his goddess cursed luck would have it, their superior. That vicious stallion had picked on everypony under his command, including both him and Chalk Dust, so he could certainly understand the resentment, but why in Equestria did Chalky have to go and do something so bloody stupid? Of course, if ‘Private Blabbermouth’ hadn’t told everypony what he’d done, if somepony hadn’t had a crisis of conscience and told the Corporal, if the Corporal hadn’t told…

Bracken nickered angrily to himself, squeezing his eyes shut against yet another stinging blast of wind blown snow. It was too late to complain now anyway, the damage was done. Glancing at the other soldier beside him, he inwardly shrugged. The two of them had been friends since foalhood and enlisted in the army together on some bloody stupid whim after a ridiculous argument with their parents that neither of them could remember had been about. At the time it seemed like a really good idea; take that mum and dad! Oh yeah, that had worked out really well hadn’t it? Best of all was their timing too. Five minutes after enlisting, or so it seemed, their beautiful idyllic homeland of Equestria had been turned into a war zone, and as for their home town? Well, that was another story wasn’t it. He took a swig of water from his canteen and shook the snow from his mane and tail. His life had been so certain once, so boringly well planned out. Now, it was full of ‘Ifs’; ‘If’ he’d stayed at home and not run off with his friend to join the army, ‘If’ he’d married the pretty young mare from the harness makers. Damn it, ‘If‘ Princess Luna hadn’t turned into that thing, he may very well have petitioned her to take away the endless nightmares he now kept having every time he tried to get some sleep! But that would never happen now would it? Celestia’s arse! Why was he thinking about that now?

A hoof suddenly knocked him on the side of the head,

“Hoy! Get a grip Brack will you? Look, there’s a cave over there. Come on, let’s see if we can get out of this blasted wind eh?”

Not in any mood to argue, Bracken followed his friends lead, trying to keep to the unicorns hoof prints in the deep snow. Anything was better than staying out there in that weather; he was now so cold his whole body felt numb from his muzzle to his hooves, despite the warmth from his physical exertions. Like the rest of the soldiers back at the barracks, he’d heard stories of ponies who’d been out in the depths of winter, or stationed to the border posts in frozen north, about how bits would….would…

He was suddenly aware of the wind noise dying down, replaced by the echoing of their hoofsteps on hard bare rock,

“Where…?”

Chalk glanced over his shoulder at him, “You okay?” He trotted back, lifting his friends chin up with a hoof while peering into his eyes, “You don’t look so good, buddy. Come on, let’s get you warmed up.”

Bracken rolled his eyes. Disgustingly cheerful in most situations, the lithe form of Chalk Dust with his white coat and pale gold mane looked like he was in his natural element out here in the snow. In fact, if it wasn’t for his armour, the fellow would be nigh on invisible. Deftly, the unicorn took off his saddle pack and began magicking items out until he eventually found what he was searching for with a squee of delight. Bracken gritted his teeth; how could he be so…’upbeat’ all the time?! A tiny spark of jealousy flared in his heart. It worried him sometimes just how much he envied that ability to always look on the bright side of things, and here he was doing it again!

Chalk Dust popped off the lid of a small canister and began attaching several long metal rods to it before placing a set of small brown paper wrapped packages next to the assembled device. Meanwhile, Bracken reached back and took off his own panniers, using his teeth and hooves to open the buckle and take out their mess tins. Why the hell did they make these things so small? The catches and clips would be no trouble for a unicorn of course, but for earth ponies it was absolutely ludicrous. Weren’t the army supposed to think of these things?

“Oh, for the goddess’s sake…” he muttered to himself, desperately trying to open the smaller bag that contained the tins. The clip on this one was even smaller than the last! Normally he didn’t have this sort of trouble of course; earth ponies were generally very good at object manipulation, but this time…

With a loud snort of frustration, the strap finally came loose and Bracken was able to extract the elusive mess tins. Unfortunately, the metal food containers were now so frozen they’d virtually fused themselves together. Reluctantly, Bracken pulled off his armoured hoof covers to allow him to gain a better grip on the awkward tins, yet despite his best efforts, his hooves slipped on the smooth cold metal as he tried to pull the uncooperative things apart. Running out of ideas he resorted to using his teeth as well, the enamel glancing off the freezing surface making him wince as a raw metal edge caught his lip painfully. With a loud metallic clatter, the mess tins slipped from his grasp and fell to the ground, the sound echoing around the dim interior of the cave. Bracken had had enough,

“Bucking damned things!” he bellowed angrily and delivered a savage kick that sent the mess tins flying across the cave where they clattered into the wall until finally coming to rest in a pile of wind blown snow.

Chalk Dust eyed him for a moment. He was worried about his friend; the cold of the mountains was wearing on a pony at the best of times, but laden down with armour and weapons as they were, the going had been far from easy. There was also that constant howling they’d been hearing this last day or so too: a low resonant moaning on the edge of his hearing that he couldn’t quite put his hoof on. Still, whatever it was, at least it wasn’t in here with them, and thank the goddess he’d been able get the fire crystals going. Fortunately it only took the slightest touch of his magic, and the small red gems had begun to glow, sending their warmth out into the cave. Wincing as his muscles reminded him of the strain he’d been putting them through, Chalk took off his pack and let out a loud sigh of relief,

“You okay over there dude? Need a hoof?”

Bracken however, was still glaring down at the object of his frustration: the hopelessly frozen mess tins,

“I can’t…” He spat, staring down at the things, “They’re frozen bloody well solid, and to top it all off I’m shaking so much I can’t even feel my damned legs anymore!”

The blue glow of magic from Chalk’s horn enveloped the tins and floated them over to beside the heater,

“Get your hairy arse over here you daft bugger and get some warmth into your bones.” Chalk said absently, waving a hoof at the heater, “I’ll see what I can do with these things.”

Grumbling, Bracken sank to his haunches by the heater and groaned loudly. Now that he wasn’t using them, he hadn’t realised just how much his legs ached. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he reached down and unclipped his girth strap and began to unbuckle the rest of his gear. Chalk meanwhile, was nonchalantly holding the mess tins over the heater in his magic until, with an audible ‘pop’, the two came apart with apparent ease. Bracken growled,

“I wish I had magic, like you. Everything seems so much…’simpler’ somehow”

Chalk shrugged off the remark, “Pass us the cans over…”

Bracken gripped the ration bag in his teeth and tossed it over to his friend who caught it with his magic. Unhurriedly, the white unicorn began arranging the cans, taking stock of what they had left.

“You know”, he said quietly, “I can’t speak for every unicorn out there, but I always envied earth ponies their strength. Magic’s all well and good until you’re up against somepony who’s got stronger magic, more talent, or could cleave you in two with a battle axe.” He smiled up at Bracken, “You know what I’m talking about.”

The black unicorn sighed, pulling his cloak in around himself, “Didn’t do us much good then, did it? Brawn or magic, both were equally bloody useless.”

“If it wasn’t for your ‘earth ponyness’, I’d be rotting bones right now, Brack, or worse. I’ll never forget that.” He smiled at his friend, giving him a wink with an emerald green eye.

Despite his colouring, Bracken could see the way the scars across the white pony’s muzzle made his skin pull slightly when he smiled; a permanent reminder of that terrible day which the unicorn, and he himself, would carry for the rest of their days. He mentally berated himself. How could he be so self centred when his friend had been through so much more than him? Though really, when he thought about it, they’d saved each other on more than one occasion and been through absolute hell together, and now…

“So, today’s lunchtime choices are…” Chalk lifted up a can, “carrot and beans, carrot and oat, carrot and cabbage…Mmmm!” He picked up another and examined it with a smirk on his face, “Or…” He held a hoof to his mouth in exaggerated surprise, “Carrot soup!” He laughed, “Hope you like carrots, buddy, or else you’re going hungry.”

“Carrot, carrot or carrot, eh?” Bracken chuckled, “Just as well I’m not allergic to bloody carrots then, isn’t it!”

“There’s always the low fat option” Chalk replied grinning expansively.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you’re sitting on it.”

“Ah” Bracken looked down and raised an eyebrow, “Snow”

“Yup! Delicious and nutritious, and the best part is that you can have as much as you want!” Chalk chuckled at his friends exasperated expression, “So, whaddaya fancy then, private?”

“Guess I’ll go with the carrot and oat if that’s okay. You’re the chef”

Chalk Dust began to open one of the cans, “’Course. For myself, I think I’ll go with the cabbage option today, perhaps a light Chianti to wash it down and a few hors-d'oeuvres to nicely round off our delicious repast in style.”

Chalks eyes sparkled in the magical light from the fire crystals, making Bracken laugh despite himself. Regardless of their current situation, things could definitely be a hell of a lot worse. The white unicorn with the pale gold mane currently stirring the gunge like slop in his mess tin was virtually completely white when you stood back from him. Sadly, many back at the barracks, fully grown pony’s too, had been wary around the young unicorn because of his colouring as, unfortunately, it made him stand out like a sore hoof. In a world of colourful equines, standing out from the crowd was something that might seem like a bit of a misnomer, but the war had changed everypony, and not for the better. Suspicion, distrust and hoof pointing at one another had spread like an epidemic throughout Equestria, an Equestria where the very thought of such behaviour only a few short months earlier would have been scoffed at as rampant paranoia. Now, it was the norm.

They all knew, every single one of them, that nopony could hide in their home and pretend the world was still the same as it had once been. Now, Ponies, Thestrals, Minotaurs, Griffins and Celestia knew what else, were all busy taking sides and trying to carve out a slice of the land for themselves. In the case of the Legion, that meant taking all the land. Celestia and Luna, the princesses…how had it come to this? Why? None of it made any sense at all; in fact, the world didn’t make any sense. Bracken sighed. Growing up he’d been a happy foal for the most part. His parents were notable farriers, and damned good at what they did too. They certainly weren’t rich, but not poor either. Reputation meant a great deal to a small business and ponies from all over would come to their home for new shoes, hoof covers, and other small metal worked items that they’d branched into over the years.

His dad had wanted his son to follow in his hoof steps naturally, but there was something strangely off putting about holding another pony’s hoof to shoe them which he just didn’t fancy. He shrugged to himself and adjusted his cloak; it was just another foolish part of his foalhood, one more path he’d failed to tread as fate had rolled inexorably on with him, apparently, just along for the ride. Come to think of it, how were mum and dad doing now? He hadn’t seen them for ages, not since…

A wooden spoon bopped him hard on the nose,

“Ow! Damn it Chalky!” Bracken yelped, “What the hell was that for?!”

His mess tin was unceremoniously shoved under his muzzle, Chalk Dust’s green eye’s watching him intensely,

“Dinner’s ready”

Bracken took the mess tin and had a quick swig of his water. Why was his mouth so dry? He gave his friend an apologetic smile, “Sorry. Look, thanks, I think my mind was wandering a bit there.”

“You reckon?” Chalk asked, an uncharacteristic level of sarcasm in his voice, “I was talking to you for ages and there you were staring off into space!” He placed his own mess tin on the heater, dumping a similarly gloopy looking mixture into it, “It’s bad enough being stuck out here in the middle of…’nothing’ without having to talk to yourself too.”

“Okay!” Bracken announced, holding up a hoof, “I said I’m sorry, there’s no need to bite my head off Chalky. I was just daydreaming, that’s all.”

The white pony hung his head a moment, “I…Yeah, you’re right Brack. I don’t know…”

Bracken looked up from him meal questioningly, “Hmm?”

“It’s nothing…”

Chalk Dust stared into his mess tin, the brown goo was already starting to bubble around the edges as he stirred it with his wooden spoon. Mother had carved that out of a solid block of wood so many years ago it all seemed to have happened to somepony else. He missed her, her smile, the way she would always seem to know when he was upset or hurting inside. She was an incredibly intuitive and talented mare; his mother’s skills in woodworking were a true marvel to behold too. As another village craftspony, it seemed only natural that the two families, Brackens and his own, would eventually gravitate towards each other, and even become friends. Similarly, Chalk Dust had quickly befriended the black pony with the blue mane, tail and slate grey eyes. He had been surprisingly open to him when they’d first met, despite his unusual appearance.

Chalks dad had disappeared when he was still a foal, leaving Lake, his mother, to raise him as a lone parent. The villagers were kind and helpful of course, as ponies tended to be by nature, but the children at school…they were another matter. His white coat and pale gold mane made him look almost completely white at a distance and in certain lights. Foals being foals, they’d locked onto this distinguishing feature and had made his life a living hell. ‘Ghost’, they’d called him, and sometimes he’d wished he was. Their teasing and bullying had been endless, a never ending stream of abuse, jibes and cruel pranks that followed him wherever he went.

He’d tried to play along at first of course, accepting their behaviour with good grace and a smile. Mum had always said not to ‘lower yourself to their level’, and to ‘rise above it’. He snorted, rubbing his nose with a foreleg. It was all very well to say such things when you weren’t the poor bugger getting it in the neck. Half the problem here too, was that by not reacting, he’d actually ended up as an even bigger target when somepony wanted to have a laugh at his expense. Only Bracken of all the ponies at school had stood by his side, showing him understanding and care when nopony else would listen; not even his teachers. But then, Bracken hadn’t always been there when the bullies decided to target him. Quickly realising the naturally strong earth pony would stand by the white unicorn, the rougher element at the school simply waited until he was out of the way to ply their cruel trade.

Chalk sniffed the air. What was that smell? It smelled nice whatever it was, a sort of earthy cherry scent…

“What the…?”

Bracken let out a long thin plume of smoke, sighing happily,

“You know, there’s not much left, so I thought I’d just kick back and make the most of it”

Chalk glowered at him, “You rotten sod, you know I fancied some of that!” He rammed a spoonful of his meal into his mouth and cringed as the horrible taste hit him.

There was a quiet sound of something being placed beside him and he looked down to see his own bogwood pipe, neatly packed with the pungent tobacco and a pack of matches beside it. He looked up at the black coated stallion, who gave him a grey eyed wink,

“For after dinner of course. Unless we’re having desert?”

Chalk shook his head in wonderment and tried to hide his smile as he tucked into his dinner. Goddesses, it really was bloody awful!

Neither of them spoke until their mess tins were cleaned and put away, their gear checked and bedding rolls laid out. If nothing else, at least the monotonous repetition of army life had made some of the more mundane tasks now almost so mechanical they barely even registered. The heater was working well though, but it was still bitterly cold in the cave and the small device’s warmth only radiated so far. Bracken rubbed his muzzle to try and warm it up a little. At least their bedding rolls would keep them off the rocky cave floor and provide some sort of insulation.

“You okay, Chalky?” Bracken asked quietly, snuggling himself down into his bedding, “Not like you to, you know, over-think stuff.”

His friend nodded. He was right of course, it wasn’t like him at all. It must be this place: the barren landscape, the cold, and that bloody terrible moaning howl that never seemed to end. His horn was itching too, it was just a background tickle, but Celestia’s ample arse, it was driving him up the wall!

“Sorry buddy”, he said quietly. Rubbing his forelegs together and blowing on them, Chalk tried to breathe some warmth into his joints, “I keep remembering things, stuff from home…bad things.” He sighed, “Just ignore me.”

A black hoof reached across and tucked the bedding in around the white unicorn’s neck,

“You’re my friend Chalky. If you want to talk, I’m right here you know.”

Chalk smiled. His body may be cold, but Bracken always seemed to know just what to say to warm his heart,

“Thanks Brack, really. Let’s just get some kip though, eh? I want to be up early in the morning to try and get our bearings.”

Bracken closed his eyes, “I just want to get out of this bloody snow.” He said taking a deep breath, “I don’t like this place, and I don’t like the way it’s messing with my head either. It feels wrong here, Chalky. I can’t put my hoof on it, but it’s not right.”

The white unicorn looked past his friend and out to the snow that was still swirling and billowing outside. The moaning of the wind sent a chill into his soul,

“Yeah…” he murmured, “It’s not right.”

This far north, the land was in a perpetual state of winter. Nopony in their right mind would live here. There was precious little to eat, almost no shelter to speak of and there were also those haunting tales of the ‘things’ who called these mountains their home; beasts that could rend your heart from your still living body. Still, these thoughts were not for now. If he dwelt on his fears too much, he’d never get to sleep at all. With a final expansive yawn, Chalk pulled his bedding over his head after a final check that his sword was near to hoof.

Outside the stormy night continued unabated.

**********************

“Hey ghostie, your mum know you been bleaching your hair? Miss won’t like that, won’t like it at all. We’ll tell her too!”

Chalk sighed, “I don’t bleach it,” he said levelly, “it’s natural, can’t you see that?”

Heath sneered at him, a sing-song note to his sarcastic voice, “Nah, you look like you bleach it, like you’re the sort who thinks he’s better than the rest of us. That’s it ain’t it? You think you’re somepony? Like your family are so high and mighty?”

It was useless to argue, and Celestia knows how he’d managed put up with their incessant jibes before, but this time, for some reason the larger foal’s stinging words really hit home. Chalk knew his family weren’t better than anypony else’s, of course they weren’t, in fact the reality was far from it. Heath didn’t realise just how lucky he was: he had both a mother and a father, a family unit that Chalk could only dream of. Mum had raised him by herself and had had to work long hours to try and make enough bits to support them all since dad had vanished. She’d been so busy, worked so hard, that he’d hardly ever seen her; she was so tired all the time, so, so tired. He’d wanted to help her, he really had, but he was so young and small he just got in the way. He felt so useless, so helpless, and now…

“Hur, hur! He don’t have no daddy, so he’s ‘somepony’ alright” sneered a smaller blue foal. Chalk recognised him vaguely, he was one of the school ‘rats’ that hung around with the bigger ones, waiting for crumbs to fall from their masters table or otherwise attempting to ingratiate themselves with the bigger bully. “There’s a name for ponies like that…” he said, narrowing his eyes, “you wanna know what they call ‘em?”

Chalk gritted his teeth, “Don’t…”

“Heh, I know that word”, Heath grinned, bringing his muzzle close to Chalks ears, “I can tell you if you like. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, ghostie?”

“Don’t…”

The large brown and white foal cocked his head on one side,

“What?”

Chalk’s voice was faint, distant, “…Don’t call me it.”

Heath laughed, his fetid breath wafting over his intended victim, “Oh? Getting a little upset are we? Oh dear!” He looked back at his blue coated sidekick, “Says we shouldn’t call him that, Inky, whadda you think?”

The blue one clopped his hooves in glee, “Say it! Say it!”

Chalk Dust opened his eyes, staring down at the polished tile floor, wishing he was somewhere, anywhere, but there. Goddesses help him, how could Celestia allow this? Where was she when he needed her?

Rough hooves suddenly slammed him up against the wall by the water fountain, a pair of menacing pale violet eyes boring into his. Heath smirked, his lips curling up as he took a deep breath and breathed out next to Chalk’s ear. His voice was little more than the barest whisper but carried all the derision and bitterness of his young twisted soul. Whether it was Heath’s intention to wound his victims’ heart or not didn’t matter, the word alone was enough,

“Bastard…”

Thunder rumbled overhead as a sudden surge of purple light engulfed the corridor, so bright that ponies at the other end including those nearest cried out in fright, shielding their eyes. A blood chilling scream of unleashed pain and fury rolled out down the halls, rattling the windows and blowing open doors in some unseen wind. The ensuing blast of destructive magic blinded Chalk as it radiated out from him, gathering pace in an expanding, raging storm of unbridled fury.

Windows began to blow out down the corridor one by one, doors ripped off their hinges like matchwood and floor tiles cracking from the immense pressure. Pain lanced through Chalks head like white hot fire brands, but something else accompanied it, a sense of…anger, anger and…euphoria. He’d never used much magic before, little beyond than which was needed for everyday object manipulation like any unicorn, but now, now he would use it freely, and this little rat, this vermin, would pay for what he’d called him.

The world disappeared in a whirling maelstrom of magic, the shouts of his fellow students and the groaning of the building as it swayed under the magical assault finally beginning to ebb away as he reached the point of exhaustion. A few feet away, the bloodied and mangled form of a small brown and white foal lay in a heap of broken limbs against the wall. Cracked paint and blood spatter marked the place where he’d been slammed helplessly into it like a rag doll, the slick red streaks trailing down to where the bully, Heath, lay in a motionless heap. A thick red liquid, shining in the sunlight streaming through the shattered windows, spread out in an ever expanding puddle.

Chalk staggered, the sudden expenditure of magical energy far beyond anything he’d ever experienced before. Images blurred as the world around him suddenly lurched and he grabbed the splintered remains of a window sill, vomiting up the contents of his stomach.

In the distance, somepony was screaming.

********************

Already darkened by the magic of the princess of the night, what little light was left was rapidly disappearing into thick shadow. Moments later, a sound like hail hammered down around him, accompanied by occasional cries and shouts. Damn it all! What the hell was going on? Hemmed in on all side by his comrades, Bracken couldn’t see much out of his heavy steel helmet, nor for that matter past the pony before him. It was stiflingly hot in the armour already, and with his breath condensing inside the helmet too, it was making wearing the heavy metal plating even more uncomfortable.

He’d been one of the lucky ones, he supposed, in some respects at least. Most of the younger ponies had been issued little more than leather barding, chainmail or whatever else they could scrounge up from the goddess knew where. More than a few in fact had nothing more than what they’d been wearing at the time they’d been drafted. As fortune would have it, his father had been making a set of plate armour for a neighbouring village’s elder when the news came back that he’d been killed in a skirmish with Nightmare Moon’s forces during the early days of the invasion. With payment already made and nopony coming to collect it, his father had reluctantly given it to his son; probably on the understanding he’d knock all the dents out and polish it again when he got back. In fact, with the amount he was sweating and overheating in the thing now he was wearing it, its protective qualities were starting to seem of somewhat less importance than say breathing.

Bracken sighed and tried to scratch his nose. His hoof clanged noisily against the armour, the cold steel denying him the relief of…wait…

“Hey…hey buddy!”

The pony next to him turned to face him, his eyes as wide as saucers and foam leaking from the corners of his mouth. Whether the poor fellow was filled with either terror or madness, he couldn’t say. Bracken shook his head,

“Er, sorry, it’s okay, I thought you were somepony else…”

The strange pony flicked his head back to face the front and fidgeted with the spear he was leaning on. ‘Some ponies’, Bracken reasoned, ‘really shouldn’t be here’. For that matter, he shouldn’t be here! Where was Chalky? Damn it, that bloody itching!

He nudged the pony on the other side of him, “Pssst, hey….Hey!”

The peach coloured mare stared at him a moment before hissing under her breath,

“What?”

“Um…” Bracken felt a sudden tinge of embarrassment, “Could you, you know, give my muzzle a quick scratch? I’ve got a hell of an itch and it’s driving me crazy.”

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes going wide,

“Have you lost your mind!? We’re in the middle of a battle and you want me to scratch your bloody muzzle?”

Bracken tried to smile, “Please?”

The mare shook her head, “Oh for…” Reaching out a hoof she opened her mouth to speak as the horns blew,

“It’ll have to wait, we’re moving.”

Hell fire! So close! Distracted, Bracken turned back to face the front as the whole army, or so it felt, began to move slowly forward. The sound of so many moving at once was deafening, the rumbling echo of hooves, the clank of armour, even the stink of sweat and fear, permeated everything. If only he could see! He wasn’t a tall pony by any stretch of the imagination, about average really, but even if he was taller, looking through the slits in the helmet’s visor gave the wearer a strangely surreal outlook on the world. In some ways, he was becoming used to it, but it was still rather like staring through a letterbox from several inches away. It was probably bloody pointless anyway, what with the amount of regular soldiers here protecting the flanks of their army and the princess of the sun on their side. More than likely he’d be on his way back to the barracks tomorrow; tired, but able to tell the guys, “I was there, dude, I fought at the battle of…” Actually, come to think it where was this?

Another horn blew and everypony halted. Goddesses, it was so hot in this thing! Bracken sighed; he couldn’t waft air into it because even his legs were armoured. The last time he’d tried that, he’d forgotten the steel hoof covers and nearly managed to give himself concussion. ‘Come to think of it’, he thought bitterly to himself, ‘concussion wouldn’t be so bad. At least I wouldn’t be so sodding bored’.

Taking a deep calming breath, he closed his eyes and exhaled. Bloody hell, when were Nightmare Moon’s forces going to attack? They were nothing more than a rag tag band of cutthroats and mercenaries after all, weren’t they? At least, that’s what they’d been told. It had taken a while of course, but the army had finally managed to pin them down here in this valley and now, there they stood, up on the other side of the river. Once the Celestian forces descend from the forest road and arrived on the level plain though, his vision had been reduced to the arse of the fellow in front of him. Whoever it was, was clearly having trouble controlling their bowels too; the acrid stench filling Bracken’s nostrils every now and again made him want to heave.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he imagined this would be the sort of memory that he wouldn’t be writing down in his memoirs. He smiled to himself. Maybe one day…one day he would sit there beside the fire in the tavern and tell the younger ones of how he’d fought at the great battle of…’something or other’, and faced down Nightmare Moon and her Legion! Staring into a pony’s arse half the morning and being subjected to a near constant barrage of farts however, wasn’t quite going to capture the imagination.

His ruminations were interrupted by a shadow passing across the sun once more and another loud rattle of hail came down around him. Several hard ‘things’ impacted his armour including his helmet and made his ears ring. What the hell was that? Bracken looked around irritably, quickly spotting the long shafts of several heavy looking arrows protruding from the ground here and there. The mare beside him looked pale, her face drained of colour. Her lips quivered, her voice shaking,

“Can…can you…”

The shaft of an arrow poked up from her pack, the fletching shiny and slick with…blood? No, not blood…jam.

“It’s okay,” Bracken chuckled with relief, “It’s hit your provisions. Guess you’re one lucky pony.”

She didn’t say anything, just nodded her head and fell forward slowly onto the soft earth.

“Hey! You alright? Wha…?

The mare’s eyes rolled up into her head as another pony behind her grabbed her hind legs and began pulling the peach coloured pony back through the lines. In what seemed like the blink of an eye, she’d been replaced with another earth pony. Bracken stared in amazement: just like that, you’re here, then you’re not here. But, what had happened to her? She wasn’t hurt was she? Maybe he hadn’t seen something, something he’d missed. Could he have helped her? His mind reeled, running over the possibilities while behind him the horns blew their insistent refrain once again.

A shout from up ahead was the precursor for an almost solid wall of noise that slammed into him and reverberated inside his helmet. Damn it, why did he need armoured bloody ears guards! He reached up to undo the catches and paused; maybe getting your head split open wasn’t quite the exciting experience he wanted from army life. He quickly lowered his hoof. When it came to a choice between discomfort and death, it wasn’t exactly a fair contest.

The pony in front of him seemed to tense and suddenly evacuated his bowels.

“Oh for Celestia’s sake!”

Bracken tried to jump back, only to be shoved hard in the rump by the pony behind him. The reek of excrement and urine hit his nostrils like a sledgehammer, the steaming odour somehow amplified within the helmet’s confines. Unbidden, Bracken had a sudden mental image of the little droplets of concentrated stink condensing on the metal and entering…

“-Move it, damn you!”

He bit back a reply as the pony behind roughly shoved him forward. Grumbling, Bracken faced his front once again, but the soldier that had been there only moments before had gone, replaced by a bloodied mass disappearing back through the ranks just at the edges of his vision. He turned his head to see what was left of the body being dragged amidst the sodden mess of the owners own bodily fluids. Bracken swallowed; he was edging ever nearer the front line.

Beyond the pony before him, he could make out movement; a mass of black writhing something, the occasional flash of steel and the bright colourful glow of magical energy discharge. He tried looking up but the neck guard prevented much more than a few inches of freedom either way. Still, it was enough. High above him, the bursts of light were more intense, the clouds laced with flashes of magical discharge every colour of the rainbow, each glittering spark of that ethereal light as deadly as the other.

He watched as pegasi, griffins and other creatures he didn’t recognise, dodged between those lights, shooting crossbows and weaving around…fire? Oh goddesses, he’d heard of them, but…dragons? Surely not, not out here?

One of the ponies cried out,

“The sun! Look at the sun!”

Bracken stared as the golden light of the sun disappeared behind a dark bank of cloud so thick and black as to almost blot it out completely. Suddenly the air felt a lot colder, the icy winds of winter catching on his fur and making his teeth chatter. It was magic alright, it had to be; you didn’t get weather like this at this time of year, did you?

High in the air a plume of white, somewhat like a small cloud, scudded across the sky trailing what looked like steam, or maybe…smoke? Bracken wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it was heading right for them. One of the others had noticed too, the stallion standing on his hind legs and pointing up at it,

“Celestia save us…”

Bracken frowned, “What is it?” he shouted over the noise.

The other pony said nothing, merely staring up at the approaching thing still high in the sky. In mere seconds, the white image appeared to coalesce into a being, almost equine in shape. Frozen in fascinated horror, Bracken watched as the white creature plummeted towards them like a comet, unleashing a blood chilling howl that sounded like it was from another world, a terrifying world, one that made him want to turn tail and run until his legs gave out on him. In his mind, the creatures cry was the sound of the frozen north, the bitterest chill of winters’ merciless grip upon the land. Beside him, one of the ponies was praying, his eyes squeezed tight and lips moving with the words,

“…goddess, preserve our souls….”

Bracken sniffed, hefting his sword. He wasn’t a religious pony, but a little divine help wouldn’t go amiss right now. Whatever that thing was above them, he couldn’t do a damned thing about it, so he did the only thing he could: he looked straight ahead, and waited. A heavy crash of steel from nearer the front mingled with various grunts and shrieks. A shout from behind made him look round in time to see a bolt of golden light flash through the sky above them, instantly turning the white cloud pony-like thing into ash.

A voice called out jubilantly, “The princess! The princess is with us!”

A huge spontaneous cheer and enthusiastic shouting rose from around him like a wave rolling up to the shoreline, the surging noise thrumming through the ground and making his heart soar.

It spoke to him, calming his nerves; they could win this, they would win this! They all knew the sun princess was invincible, unstoppable, her unimaginable power and strength was a legend amongst both young and old alike. Bracken smiled wryly, narrowing his eyes,

“Oh, hell yeah…”

Moments later, the pony before him fell, simultaneously lost amidst a whirling mass of black wings, teeth and flaring red eyes. The thestral bore down upon him.

Adrenalin kicked in, its electrifying rush fizzing through Bracken’s body. Baring his teeth, the earth pony gripped his sword harder, his heart hammering in his chest,

“COME ON YOU BASTARD!”

He screamed wordlessly while the near skeletal image of the thestral, clad in wickedly spiked black armour, hacked and battered its way towards him. Behind the creature, the dark mass of the enemy surged as if it were some single monstrous entity. The slick black tide of warriors rippled and shook, their weapons sparkling in the light from the magical energy bursts filling the sky above them.

The thestral swung its huge axe with its forehooves, the blade crashing through the ranks before it, and coming straight for him. Ponies shrieked and yelled around him, some trying to get away, others desperately attempting a defence. They were mostly new recruits too, untested in the crucible of battle. Goddess protect him, he’d never fought anything more than a sparring partner himself and yet their commander had put them in the centre of the battle lines with the regulars on the flanks. The intention was no doubt to try and bolster their morale, but most of the ponies in the formation had little more than rudimentary training and against these…’things’, their inexperience was now all too apparent. Many of them had rushed off to join the fight against Nightmare Moon’s army, the Legion, with little to no knowledge of what warfare was outside of dusty old books and even dustier village tales. The merciless crucible war was a hell of a way to learn how that excitement and enthusiasm was no match for good equipment and training, and now, the murderous storm of war hit them with all its lethal ferocity.

Bracken’s eyes went wide, his muscles shaking with an exhilarating mixture of sheer terror and determination. The nightmarish image before him swung its heavily bladed axe up into the chest of a stallion, the hapless male grunting and spewing out a gout of blood before falling like so much boneless meat. Wasting no time, the black coated warrior wrenched his weapon free and kicked out, knocking another of the young ones sprawling back into their comrades.

Trumpets blared in the background, but in his state of near delirium, Bracken barely heard it. The thestral seemed to pause, unsure about something; a split second later, the near skeletal killing machine took a step back then glowered back at him, baring its teeth and hissing out a wisp of smoke. Snorting loudly, Bracken dug his hind legs into the ground and threw himself at his enemy even as the flames the creature spewed out engulfed him.

It was over in seconds, but to Bracken the world felt as if it had slowed horribly around him, his comrades shouts and cries lost in a flickering yellow and red glare. The stink of burning hair assailed him, mingled with the reek of sweat and gore from the writhing mass beneath him. In a mixture of both shock and surprise, Bracken opened his eyes and looked down. His hooves were slick with warm blood. Like a tree growing out of the black soil, his sword’s hilt protruded from the unarmoured underbelly of the thestral warrior. It was still alive…barely.

Bracken’s heartbeat drowned out all other sound, beating in time with the rapid rise and fall of the chest belonging to his foe. He couldn’t stop staring at it. How did that happen? What the hell was happening? As he watched, the creatures head came up and fixed him with a red eyed stare for just the barest of moments before dropping back to the ground, its breathing slowing and then, gradually, it stopped. Just…stopped. Bracken felt a wave of cold wash through his body. The confidence he’d felt earlier, the surreal experience of battle driving out any thought of…

“What the hell are you doing, soldier?! Pick up your weapon and get back in the line!”

A white coated stallion with piercing blue eyes and golden armour grabbed him by his shoulders and hauled him to his hooves,

“Move it!”

Bracken shook his head and gripped the hilt of his sword, pulling the blade free. Thank the goddesses he couldn’t hear the sound it made with all the din around him, but he could still feel it, the way it dragged and sucked back into the gaping wound turned his stomach. Gritting his teeth, he stepped over the creature and glanced up into the eyes of the officer,

“Sorry, sir”

The pony stared back at him, a slight curl to his mouth,

“You’ll do well, son” he said, clopping Bracken on the shoulder, “Do your best today.”

“Yes, sir”

Bracken blinked. The field before him was littered with the dead and dying, both ponies and thestrals, together with some other creatures he’d never seen before. Goddess willing, he’d be able to have a closer look at them when all this was over and he’d be able to meet up with Chalky.

“Damn it, here they come again!” Somepony shouted.

A tide of black surged towards them, the black coated and armoured pony-like beings howling and waving weapons half as big as he was. He barely had time to blink before they crashed into the Celestian lines once more. The young soldiers of the sun princess buckled but stood their ground, trading blow for blow with the forces of the moon. Colourful light caught on the edges of the glistening weapons and armour of both sides: swords, axes, spears, all were equally employed in the deadly trade of killing upon that terrible ground.

Bracken couldn’t think anymore. He couldn’t go forward, couldn’t retreat. Hemmed in from every side, all he could do now was fight, fight and hope to the goddesses he would survive this hell.

Ponies either side of him pushed, swung, stabbed and hacked at their enemy, who in turn replied with brutal efficiency. Another thestral suddenly appeared to Bracken’s front, blocking his desperate attacks with disturbing ease. Thankfully, the creature’s blows barely connected, glancing off his own parries and blocks, just as he’d been trained. In fact, it seemed surprisingly easy considering how skilled the first one he’d encountered had been. Maybe this one wasn’t as experienced, not quite as strong. After all, he was no weakling himself; the years of helping his parents with metal working had built up Bracken’s back and leg muscles nicely, and yet…something was niggling at the edges of his awareness. Almost subconsciously he pulled the next blow, watching the thestral’s reaction. The beast recoiled like a snake from the impact, moving back as if hit by one a great deal harder than the one he’d landed. Bracken looked into the beasts’ eyes, scrutinising the deep purple burning flames that stared back at him. The thestral narrowed its eyes, its lips twitching beneath the curl of a battery of menacingly sharp teeth. Letting out a whuff of smoke…it grinned.

Cold realisation dawned on Bracken, that freezing wash of certainty that screamed out that you knew something terrible was about to happen, yet no matter how much you struggled, nor how much you cried out…it was all far, far too late. Fate had already made her decision.

Shouts rang out around him.

“They’re falling back!”

“Push harder!”

“By the goddess, they’re running!”

“Finish them!”

A surging tide of armoured ponies washed around Bracken as he stood there immobile, his sword held in his hooves watching the inexplicably fleeing mass of black armoured warriors.

Trumpets blared around him. He recognised it from his training, the plaintive and now utterly impotent sound of the recall. These young warriors, little more than colts and fillies filled with excitement and adrenalin, were now far beyond the control of their officers, most of whom now joined the headlong pursuit of their foe.

Staring in disbelief, Bracken stood rooted to the spot as a golden armoured stallion ran past him, halted, then turned back to him,

“Stay here soldier. Any who come back your way, try to make them rally on you. Understand?”

Bracken blinked in surprise, “Yes, Captain Spark”

The officer reached out and clopped him on the shoulder, his voice a bare whisper amidst the din of war, “Goddess bless you”.

And with that, he was gone.

Seconds passed, maybe minutes, in the confines of the armour and the surreal situation that was unfolding around him it was impossible to tell for certain, when the first of the ponies ran past him. Captain Silver Spark had been right. Damn it all, he’d been right! Sure enough, one by one, the trickle of panicked equines quickly escalated into a flood.

He tried to stop them: shouting, cajoling, even screaming at his comrades to stand with him, to rally with him, but nothing worked. It was hopeless. Fear, terror and the true horrors of battle had mercilessly battered their way into the hearts of the young soldiers and now the forces of the princess of the sun, so confident of victory only moments earlier, were beginning to crumble.

His heart racing in his chest, Bracken reared on his hind legs, holding his sword aloft “Damn you all!” he cried, “Celestians, stand, stand with me!”

A dun mare collided with him, her eyes wide, white foam dripping from her muzzle, “They’re demons! Demons are upon us! We have to get away!”

He let her go. Demons?

More and more of them charged past him, all as eager in flight as they had been to pursue their enemy. Now, the tables turned, the young Celestian warriors were running for the heartlands as fast as their legs would carry them. And no wonder…

Howling, grunting and snarling, a massive wall of horned beasts hacked and cut their way through the fleeing equines. Those who weren’t quick enough, either due to wounds, or simply unlucky enough to be in their way, were cut down, butchered as if they were as substantial as smoke. Bracken felt himself beginning to tremble involuntarily. He’d heard of them, but never seen one in the flesh…

Minotaurs.

The great bull like things charged towards him, a dark tidal wave of steaming, beady eyed, heavily muscled death. All he could do was wait, gripping his sword so hard his hooves ached. In his fear and excitement, Bracken felt an unexpected wash of calm, his heart beat drowned out with a sense of cold inevitability. He was going to die here; it was going to happen and there was nothing he could do about it. But by all the gods and goddesses of the eternal herd, he would take as many of these scum with him as he could. He spat, hefting his sword,

“Come on then, you ugly stinking vermin! Come get some!”

Shifting his weight to his hind legs, Bracken waited for the inevitable impact. And then, like a miracle sent by the goddess, a sudden cry of anger and rage erupted from the heaving mass as the golden armoured form of Captain Silver Spark galloped through the packed ranks of armoured minotaurs like the sun shining in the night sky.

If anypony noticed, if anypony was left to care, it didn’t matter now. The powerful stallion ran the first minotaur through with a lance, the shaft snapping off like a twig. In virtually the same instant, his sword was free, gutting the unarmoured belly of another minotaur whose axe was raised high above its head, poised to strike down the pony who had dared to stand against them.

Bracken stared open mouthed, willing his legs to move, but the cursed things steadfastly refused to budge. He willed himself forward, but his mouth was bone dry and now even his own body was denying him the most basic of movement. Spitting on the ground, he closed his eyes, and tried to get his breath back, to find that calm centre once more. He looked up, lifted his sword, and saw the last moments of the Captain as a black hafted spear, large enough to kill a beast three times his size, erupted from his side in a fountain of blood and gore.

Shrieking in impotent rage and hatred, Bracken charged.

****************************

High above the field bursts of fire, magic, and eye searing lightning illuminated the sky in a deadly display of colour. The sun was now all but blotted out completely by the encroaching darkness that shrouded the massed enemy forces in the valley. Ponies far below stared up in horror as the radiant symbol of their beloved princess was engulfed in an ethereal shroud as black as night. The Legion, Nightmare Moon’s army, emboldened by the flight of the Celestian centre, pushed on with a renewed energy. Their goal was so close now, so tantalisingly close, and everypony could feel it in the air.

Bracken could sense it too; the raw power of their enemy already revelling in the fear and panic of the Celestians. High above him, magical energy of a power far beyond anything he had ever seen before burst back and forth, the concentrated beams of deadly light lancing through the air. Occasionally, a stray blast would hit the ground, incinerating any living thing it touched. Bursting through the cloud bank, he caught a glimpse of white, a glitter of gold, sweeping down and around…Celestia. Bracken looked on in impotent horror as he watched the princess engage in mortal combat with a huge beast from the blackest depths of his worst nightmares. It was the emerald dragon, the monstrous female that had been spoken about back in the barracks only in hushed tones as if the merest mention of her name could invoke her wrath. There could be no doubt who that was; it was Etrida, the elder dragon.

The two clashed, disappearing from sight between the clouds, shrouded in the glow of magic and fire. And then…horribly, he saw her fall. It was hard to see, so difficult with the smoke and shadowy movements around him, but he had seen enough for it to send a chill through his soul. The princess, their leader and beloved goddess… was gone.

Bracken coughed, the iron taste of blood rich in his mouth. The armour was leeching all the heat from him, the foul air making it incredibly hard to breathe. Had it been this cold earlier? Damn it, it was like the middle of the night! He tried to stand, but his legs refused to obey him and he remained there like a lead weight, pinned to the ground under…something.

What the hell had happened? One moment he’d attacked the minotaurs and then, and then…this. He began to shiver with the cold, the night air icy yet soothing in a strange way. Bracken blinked, trying to stay awake. Where was he? Why was this…

“This one’s still alive, sir.”

Voices.

“Not for much longer by the looks of him. Finish him off, there’s nothing we can do.”

Who were they talking about? Bracken tried again to stand, grunting with effort, his breath pluming around his muzzle. He caught the flash of a blade, the moonlight glinting along its edge as it rose above him. All he could think of was one word...

“Why”

A female voice, deep and commanding, full of exotic mystery and allure, rolled around him,

“HOLD.”

Bracken strained to see, to look beyond the encroaching darkness that was beginning to narrow his vision. As he tried to focus, a beautifully engraved silver and black metal hoof cover appeared beside him. He followed it up, up along the elegant leg the colour of midnight, past the magnificent armour and up to the flowing black mane and azure eyes of…

“Bring the pony to my tent, Lieutenant”

There was a distinct clang of metal on metal followed by a deep male voice,

“By your divine guidance”

He fell. Sucked down into the depths of unconsciousness, far from the noise and clash of battle, far from the world he knew. Bracken’s last view of the world was of the night sky, that pure blue-black pall that shrouded the land punctuated by countless glittering diamonds. Mother had said they were the souls of ponies that had gone to be with the gods and goddesses in the eternal herd. Maybe now he would be joining them, leaving this life and all its woes behind. It wasn’t so bad really, it was just…like going to sleep…

“Such a pretty thing. So warm, so pure of heart…”

Bracken’s eyes flew open. Where was he? Oh goddesses, that voice!

“What?!” he gasped, “Where…”

“-are you?” the voice interrupted silkily, “Why, I suppose that depends upon you now, my fine young stallion.”

Bracken sat bolt upright, staring around himself at the village, the glow from the windows falling upon him and outlining his coat in its yellow light. He turned, searching for the source of the voice, but there was nopony there. He was completely alone. What the hell was going on?

“Who are you?” he said to world at large, “What’s going on?”

The door to the cottage opened and a familiar pony stuck her head out, “Bracken? Good heavens you silly colt, what in Equestria are you doing out here at this time of night?” the pewter coated mare shook her rust coloured mane, “Get inside you silly thing before you catch a chill!”

He took a step forward and paused,

“This is all a dream isn’t it?” he said aloud, “If I go in there…”

“You have a choice young Bracken” the disembodied voice replied, “You can go home, be with your loved ones, or…”

“Or?”

“Or, you can stay here” a pair of dark forelegs appeared out of the air, draping themselves over his shoulders, the sultry voice speaking in a low tone into his ear, “…with me.”

“With you…” he replied calmly. He’d never been much of a wordsmith, preferring to create and craft materials like his father, but more ‘tailored’, and certainly not involving hooves. He glanced down at the elegant shapely legs, along to the finely engraved hoof covers,

“I know who you are” he said quietly.

There was a teasing gasp behind him, “You do?! My, my! Whatever shall I do now!” the voice laughed, the sound harsh, mocking, and yet oddly intimate,

“Since you already know my secret, Sir Bracken, then I shall give you a choice. A simple choice.” A dark coated shape slid alongside him and lifted his chin, bringing his face level with a pair of deep azure eyes,

“Your choice”, she said calmly, “is death” she lifted a hoof, indicating the open door of the cottage, “or…” she looked meaningfully up into the darkness. Bracken followed her gaze, taking in the large crescent moon hanging in the night sky, bathing the land with its wan light. The mare licked her lips and whispered into his ear. It was a promise of wonderment, promise, and oh, so deliciously enticing,

“…life”

With a yell, Bracken awoke. Despite the cold he was drenched in sweat and had thrown his blanket off where it was now unceremoniously piled up against the wall with his gear. Shaking, he sat down on his haunches. Hell fire, why was he remembering that now?! Of all the times, of all the places…He reached over to their supplies and took out his water flask, downing a large gulp. At least there was no shortage of water out here.

“Small comfort…” he muttered to himself bitterly.

Retrieving his blanket, he nearly tripped over a protruding white leg. Clucking his tongue, Bracken lifted Chalk’s blanket to tuck him back in,

“Come on you.” He murmured, “You’re always telling me to keep warm”.

The voice was only the barest of whispers,

“Help…me…”

“Chalky?” Bracken leaned down, “You okay buddy?”

The white unicorn’s face was contorted in fear, his lips moving slowly, his ears twitching,

“Please…no…don’t…leave me alone…LEAVE ME ALONE!”

Chalks horn suddenly glowed with magic, his eyelids flickering,

“I’ll…I’ll kill you…kill you all!”

The stallion’s eyes snapped open, glowing with a furious blue light that reflected off the piled snow and rock walls, filling Brackens vision completely. He leapt back in alarm,

“Chalky?”

The unicorn’s teeth were bared, tears pouring in a flood down his cheeks. He was muttering to himself, his chest heaving as he breathed,

“No…no…I’m not…no…”

Magic began to surge through the cave like a miniature whirlwind, tipping over the heater and spilling the precious fire crystals across the rocky floor. Various items of their gear clattered and banged as it was thrown around as though it weighed no more than a feather. Bracken backed away a step. He’d seen his friend like this once before, but why here? Why now? He did the only thing he could think of: he lunged forward and grabbed his friend by the shoulders and stared into those huge orbs,

“Chalky…Chalky it’s me, Bracken. You’re dreaming. Come on, wake up now.”

The white pony was trembling, whether with fear, anger, or just the fury of the magic roaring around him, Bracekn couldn’t tell. Chalk Dust’s eyes were completely unfocussed, staring off into some distant world only he could see. One thing that was clear though, was the sheer terror in his friends voice,

“So…cold, so alone…I’m frightened! I want to go home! Don’t…don’t leave me here! Help…somepony help me! Help me!”

Bracken pulled the unicorn to his chest, closing his eyes against the ethereal winds that caught at his mane and whipped around him,

“I’m here, Chalky!” he said comfortingly, “You’re not alone now, you’re not alone.” Bracken rubbed his friends neck and held him tightly, “Everything’s all right now, everything’s fine, you’re home…”

Suddenly, the wind began to die down, the magical tempest dropping like it had never existed, only the scattered equipment bearing silent witness to what had just happened. Bracken breathed a sigh of relief, letting his own heartbeat settle down once more.

“Brack? What…why are you…?” Chalk Dust’s green eyes stared into his in confusion before he pushed his friend away roughly, “Hey! What the hell!”

Bracken turned and picked up his blanket, sighing, “Don’t blame me, you were having one of ‘those’ dreams again.” He trotted over to pick up the scattered gear.

“One of…” Chalk scratched his mane and stared about him, “Oh, one of…those.”

The black coated stallion nodded, picking up the mess tins, “Aye, and you should be helping clean up the bloody mess you’ve made too.”

Chalk Dust sank to his haunches, “Oh goddesses. Brack, I don’t know what came over me…” He gave his mane a shake, rubbing his horn and staring out at the still blowing snow storm outside,

“You feel that?”

Bracken stopped his tidying and looked up at him, “Feel what? Other than cold that is.”

Chalk shook his head, “No! Listen, in the storm outside, in the wind.”

Clucking his tongue, Bracken sat next to his friend and concentrated, “I can’t…”

Chalk jabbed him in the head with his hoof, “Listen! Damn it, Brack, beyond the wind. Concentrate, open your mind and just listen.”

Bracken raised an eyebrow at his friend but relented with a sigh, “Fine…”

He closed his eyes and let his mind go free, taking in the sounds, the smells, the feel of the world around him. As an earth pony, he was used to being able to attune himself to the physical world: the soil, rock and bones of Equestria. That was how his family were able to find the ores they needed to smelt into the metals they used to make their wares. It was how they could sense, how they could feel the piece they were working on and mould it to their will. Being an earth pony was…

Yes! There was something there, just on the edge of hearing, but definitely there. Bracken cast his mind out, focussing, blanking out everything else as he homed in on the sound. It was like nothing he’d ever heard before in his life; a low howling, a long drawn out sound, and high, very high, above them. A sudden image of two burning blue-white eyes appeared in his mind, the cry of winter chilling his soul, sucking out everything that was good and right in his world. With a shout, Bracken opened his eyes. Chalk waited, staring at him intently,

“Well?”

“Dear goddesses” he whispered, “It’s…”

“-Yeah” Chalk interrupted, “I saw the bloody things at River Valley. I never thought we’d meet another out here, or, I should say, I hoped we wouldn’t.”

“Any ideas?” Bracken asked hopefully.

“Like what?”

“You’re the magic user, Chalky!” The black stallion said, holding his hooves up in exasperation, “What the bloody hell can I do against a wendigo!? Shout at it?”

Chalk shook his head, “Sorry Brack, I’m still a little…” he gave his mane a shake, gathering his thoughts, “Right, we get our gear on, and we get the hell out of here.”

Bracken began clipping on his armour, “Great plan, Chalky, but any idea how we’re actually going to get past it?”

“Sarcasm notwithstanding, we see where this tunnel leads” Chalk replied collecting his gear, “Unless you have any better ideas, smartarse?”

“No, but I want to get the buck away from this place and that ‘thing’ as soon as possible.” Bracken packed the last of his gear into his panniers, “You ready?”

Chalk Dust pulled his helmet on and checked his sword, “Ready as I’ll ever be. Come on, time to go exploring.”

Chapter Four - Defense of the Realm

CHAPTER FOUR

DEFENSE OF THE REALM

This wasn’t war, this wasn’t even a battle. It was…

“Murder” Wild brushed her mane away from her sweat soaked face, “Goddess almighty, Dray, we’re murdering them”

The Colonel nodded slowly, his heart racing, hot adrenalin surging through his veins, “It’s not over yet, Major. Here they come again!”

A horde of howling and shrieking minotaurs burst forth from the choking smoke of the forest. Many of them had large patches of fur burned away, their terrible charred and blackened skin stinking of the damage caused by the flames, and yet on they came swinging their huge battle axes at their foe. The mass of muscled brutality slammed into the ranks of ponies, the lines barely wavering as those who had so recently sent them fleeing for their lives, were now the ones being cut down and trampled under iron shod hooves.

Uncoordinated and panicked by the flames, the forces of Nightmare Moon emerged piecemeal from the forest in a disorderly mass. Already ranged for both magic and arrow, the open ground between the massed Celestians and the tree line became a killing field. As the ragged waves of attacks peaked and then slowly petered out, small squads of archers moved forward to target individuals and take them down. The worst of it however, had been on the left of the line.

A messenger raced up and saluted smartly, “Colonel Dray, Sir”

Returning the salute, Dray nodded, “Report”

“Sir, Captain Weald sends his compliments and requests you attend his position at your earliest convenience.”

“Very well” Dray replied, “Inform Captain Weald I shall attend presently.”

The messenger saluted once more and raced off back down the line.

Wild shook her head as she watched him leave, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

The Colonel wiped his swords blade before replacing it in its scabbard, “There’s only one way to find out.”

Dray and Wild trotted up to the small group of officers standing by the fluttering red and gold banners of Celestia’s royal guard. They were deep in conversation, with Colonel Spoon standing as tall and proud as ever, as well as sporting that never changing deadpan expression Dray had come to associate with her. The older mare nodded to him as he approached,

“A good end to the day, wouldn’t you say Colonel Dray?”

“I would, Colonel Spoon.” Dray replied, smiling, “Unfortunately I doubt the rest of our friends will depart so graciously.”

Spoon shrugged, “Maybe not, but I doubt they would attack through the forest or up the road now. Your little plan worked well.”

Dray nodded, “It worked, but the enemy have plenty more where that lot came from.”

“Agreed. Thoughts?”

“We hold the high ground and morale is good.” Dray explained, “I recommend we dig in, set defences and have a watch on all night. These things are damned near invisible in the darkness and I wouldn’t put it past them to launch an attack when our visibility is at its lowest.”

Spoon raised an eyebrow, waving to one of her officers to come over, “We’ll get the new blood on the case. They have to be good for something.”

Dray nodded bitterly. She was right, they weren’t fit for war, but they could still be of use. He saluted and quickly set off along the battle lines to find Captain Weald.

It wasn’t hard to spot him. Weald was surrounded by a group of officers and non-commissioned officers, standing before a number of ponies who where clearly under guard. Captain Weald was leaning heavily on a halberd whilst a medic tended to a nasty looking gash on his hind quarter. Parts of a conversation drifted across to Dray as he drew closer,

“….turned against your own people. You killed other ponies, and you have no feelings of regret? No remorse?”

“You are the ones who follow the false goddess: the deceiver of ponies, the bitch queen who lies on the throne of bones, Celestian.”

One of the guards suddenly swung his spear, cracking one of the prisoners in the side of the head, but rather than retaliating, the pony merely turned to look at him and smiled,

“Pathetic, just like all your kind.”

The guard’s eyes narrowed and he lifted his spear high, ready to deliver what would most likely be a lethal blow.

“Hold!” Weald spat, “We don’t mistreat prisoners, soldier.”

Saluting, the guard reluctantly lowered his spear while the prisoner grinned at him knowingly. Dray could almost taste the atmosphere as he walked up to the Captain,

“Captain Weald.”

“Colonel Dray” the injured officer nodded, “Forgive my lack of decorum Colonel, I’m a little, ah…” He nodded to the medic, “…indisposed.”

Dray smiled, “You’ve earned more than a mug of ale today, Weald.”

The stallion grinned, “I hope so. I’ve brought a little ‘premium’ lick with me as well as some damned fine brandy. I’d be honoured if you’d join us later?”

Dray opened his mouth to speak, but Wild beat him to it, “Wouldn’t happen to be Saddle Arabian pink, would it?” she asked enthusiastically.

Weald’s smile widened, “Why, it would! It appears you know your salt, Major.”

Shaking his head, the Colonel nudged Wild to one side and rolled his eyes, “Captain Weald, we’d be honoured to join you later.” He cleared his throat, “Now, you wished to speak to me?”

Weald nodded, “I did.” He waved to his Sergeant at Arms, “Take them away. Put them with the others.” Dismissing the guards, the Captain waited until his medic had finished bandaging his wound and thanked him with a smile, “Damned good medic, that one.” He said watching the apron wearing medical officer walk away, “Give me a shout if you need him, Colonel” The honey coated officer treated Dray to a beaming grin. With his lemon and green striped mane, he had always been a hit with the ladies. Dray couldn’t help but smile; the Captains reputation with mares was probably well deserved indeed, but he was first and foremost a damned good officer and one his troops respected. That alone outweighed any speculation about what went on inside his tent at night.

“I’d imagine this has something to do with…?” Dray motioned towards the retreating prisoners.

Weald nodded, “Fighting thestrals and minotaurs,” he waved a hoof, “’monsters’ if you like, is a hell of a lot different to fighting other ponies.” He winced as he tried to sit, “Bugger it!”

“Let’s go to your tent, Weald” Dray said, looking at the bandaged limb, “That looks sore.”

“It bloody well is!” The Captain squeaked, “But, um, I’d rather stay out here if it’s all the same to you, Colonel.” The young stallion looked away guiltily making Wild giggle like a foal behind him.

Dray shook his head “Very well, Captain, please continue.”

Weald nodded, “Follow me”.

The three officers walked along the long lines of troops, many of whom had begun to sit and play cards and were quickly trying to hide them when they caught sight of their superiors walking past. Dray smiled inwardly. He’d done it himself when he was in the line; catching naps, snacks, gambling, in fact anything just to kill time. Boredom was the one thing he’d never expected of army life when he’d enlisted, but with peace reigning for generations, the world of the soldier had been mostly ceremonial. Only the odd dispute that got out of hoof, or an incursion by some rogue monster from the swamps or the forests, was all that kept him from going insane with inactivity. In the end he’d volunteered for work up north, near the borderlands, the unknown wastes enigmatically called ‘The Frozen North’. It wasn’t named lightly either. The ice storms that often blew up out of nowhere could freeze the fur right off your hide if you were unprepared. It wasn’t just the weather though. Some of the things that lived up there were creatures that he hoped never to have to see again, terrifying beings that could suck the very light from your life leaving you an emotionless, empty husk.

He’d seen them, skimming across the skies like white vapour trails. Only their pegasi could engage them, but the cloud creatures had no interest in fighting and would usually vanish as soon as one of the soldiers closed with them. They were far more interested in preying on weak, sickly or lone ponies who’d strayed into their hunting grounds. As devious as they could be though, you could deal with an enemy like that, once you knew their strengths and weaknesses. Their relations however, the ones that lived in the mountains, in that fortress, they were a different matter.

Major Wild tapped him on the shoulder, “Dray, there’s so many of them. What are we going to do with them all?”

The penned enclosure had been thrown up quickly and was hopelessly inadequate for containing this many prisoners. Many of them were badly burned too, with numerous injuries sustained in the forest fire before they’d even reached the enemy lines. Enemy…Dray closed his eyes a moment, gathering his thoughts. Why? Not since the wars of the three tribes, had pony turned on pony. It wasn’t their way, and yet now…

“We’ve tried talking to them” Weald began, “they’re not exactly very talkative.”

Dray walked up to the fence and looked down at a mare who was leaning against it. The stricken creature was just lying there quietly, covered in burns and a variety of vicious looking cuts that stood out in stark relief against what was left of her pastel green coat. Her remaining fur, he noticed, was a lot longer than most Equestrian’s he’d seen. In fact, many of the prisoners had that very same attribute. Curious. The Colonel turned to the Captain,

“Weald, I want these ponies treated, all of them.”

Weald nodded, “Of course, Sir.”

The Colonel leaned against the fence railing, “Help’s coming Miss.”

One eye opened, the pale stone grey orb focussing on him with a look of absolute derision, “You want thanks Celestian?”

“No” he answered sincerely, “I want to help, and to understand.”

She snorted, “Understand?” The mare lifted her head, displaying the terrible injury down the other side of her face. Dray shifted back unconsciously. The mare noticed his reaction and sneered, “Can you ‘help’ this?”

“Our medics will help, Miss,” Dray replied, “I promise you that.”

“A promise? You cannot keep promises, Celestian.” The mare glared at him, “Your ‘princess’ made promises, but all we got was suffering, starvation and lies. You wouldn’t know though, would you? Brought up in the marshmallow softness of Equestria, living each day in the sunshine and warmth...” She spat at his hooves, “Your kind make me sick.”

Wild took a step forward angrily, her hoof reaching for her sword. She opened her mouth to speak but Dray cut her off with a raised hoof, “I don’t know about any lies or promises, Miss, but taking up arms against your fellow Equestrians in support of Nightmare Moon? Surely you know she wants to bring about eternal night, to bring darkness and cold to our home. You are all still ponies like us…”

“-Like you?” The green mare dragged herself painfully to her hooves, “We are nothing like you! We survived for years, living in the wastes: cold, hungry and in constant fear of the beasts that lived there, and why? Because your damned princess condemned us to that, and you wonder why we would turn to the goddess for help?”
Other ponies around her began to take notice of the exchange, moving forward to listen, “You want an answer, Celestian, then answer mine first. Why would your princess sentence us to a life of living hell? Answer me that!” She growled low in her throat, “But you can’t can you? Because she’s gone…”

Captain Weald stepped forward suddenly, “What do you mean, ‘she’s gone’?”

The mare looked him up and down with a look of cold derision, “Didn’t you know? Or are lying to yourselves now?”

“I asked you a question, damn you!”

The mare bared her teeth, the next words hissed out with a cold finality, “She’s dead”

“Horse dung! And you call us liars!” Weald slammed his hoof into the ground angrily.

The mare raised an eyebrow, her voice calm, level, as if explaining to an infant, “Didn’t you see her fall from the sky? The battle amongst the clouds was a truly glorious sight to behold. Our wondrous goddess in pitched battle with the bitch queen of the Celestians. Back and forth they flew, fighting with magic and fire, sword and axe, until the white witch flew right into the trap so carefully laid by her most divine majesty.”

Dray shifted his weight, feeling his own hoof starting to move towards his sword instinctively. Wild reached out to him, nervously brushing his neck, seeking some sort of comfort from the words of the mare.

The green mare wasn’t finished. In a voice, clear and loud, she continued, “The great elder dragon, Etrida, threw her enemy down, smashing her ruin into the ground like so much slaughtered meat.” She smiled cruelly, “Go seek your witch, Celestian, but take a priest with you when you do.”

Wild shook, squeezing her eyes tight against the waves of nausea. Beside her, Dray shook his head calmly, “You certainly have an active imagination, Miss, I’ll give you that.”

She blinked, “Imagination? How could you not have seen it? I saw it with my own eyes!”

“Pah!” Dray spat, “A dragon defeating the goddess of the sun?” He began to laugh, “They really would tell you ponies anything, wouldn’t they!”

The mare looked unsure for a moment, then sighed, “You can believe what you want, Celestian, I’m sure you’ve had a lifetime’s experience of living in denial, so it shouldn’t be difficult.” She began to walk away, “But ask yourself this: where is she?” Calling over her shoulder, the mare’s voice began to dwindle, ”You know in your heart she has gone. Celestia is no longer in this world, and your world will soon be coming to an end…an end in fire and ice.”

Weald stepped up to Dray, his eyes blazing with fury, “Tell me you don’t believe all that crap, Dray? Goddess forgive me, I’d happily strike that little bitch down for what she said.

“Celestia will return, Captain” The Colonel smiled, “Have no fear of that my friend!” He clopped Weald on the shoulder, “The enemy use honeyed words to trick ponies into joining them and turning on their own, probably using magic to alter their memories as well. You have heard of this already, have you not?”

Weald nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow, “I have”.

Dray motioned towards his injury, “Go and get some rest Captain, but keep your troops alert. The night is coming and defences need to be constructed. Colonel Spoon is in charge of preparations, but would welcome an extra hoof if you have some troops to spare.”

Weald gave a half smile, “I’ll put Lieutenant Fresh in charge while I see if I can get some blasted painkillers.” He winced, “It’s not too deep, but it stings like hell when I walk.”

Dray waved over a couple of soldiers, “Help the Captain to his tent and be gentle with him. He’s had a hard day.”

Weald shot him a look, shook his head and gave a loud guffaw, “Remember my offer Colonel Dray, Major Wild, I’ll be expecting you!”

Dray gave him a nod, then turned to the Major, “Come on, Heather, let’s get the hell away from here.”

The two walked away in silence, the Major staring out across the open killing field at the parties of soldiers clearing away the dead and wounded. How were their own wounded faring at the hooves of Nightmare Moon’s army? How much mercy could they expect? She shuddered.

“Heather?”

Wild looked up, “Mmm?”

Dray looked at concernedly, “Don’t let that mare’s words wound your heart, Major. The princess will come back to us, I know it.”

Major Wild shook her mane, “I…I saw her fall, Dray, and that mare, what she said…”

“Some of what she said was true.”

Wild was incensed, “What?!”

The Colonel looked away, his voice sounding unusually distant, “About those living to the north, in the frozen wastes. I was stationed up there in my younger days.”

She knew he had been, but still! Wild took a breath, “I know, but…what she said was…”

“-that they had been made promises? That the princess had lied to them?” Dray shrugged, “I don’t know about that, but there were definitely tribal communities living out there beyond the border. We saw them from time to time. Them, and the things that sometimes tried to pass through.”

Wild’s brows drew down, “Things?”

“You don’t want to know” Dray tossed his mane, “I don’t want to remember myself. I still need to be able to sleep at night.”

“But…they lived out there?” The Major asked incredulously, “Why? What was stopping them coming into heart lands of Equestria?”

“Who can say?” Dray replied resignedly, “One of them ventured close to our outpost once and the Corporal tried to go out and speak to him. The pony just walked away as though he didn’t exist, like he hadn’t seen or heard him at all. I can tell you Heather, it scared the crap out of all of us.”

Reaching the centre of the line, Dray halted, “After that, we began referring to them as ‘grey ghosts’. Mainly because of all you could see through all that bloody snow was a greyish outline and the long cloaks they wore.” He took a gulp of water from the water barrel, wiping his mouth with his foreleg, “The more superstitious ones amongst us didn’t last long. Some went mad, losing their minds completely. We had to…” He shook his head, the sentence never completed, “Long bleak days of endless half light isn’t good for anypony, Heather. The goddesses help us if Nightmare Moon gets her way.”

Wild raised an eyebrow, “But it didn’t affect you though, Dray. You’re one of the most level headed stallions I’ve ever met.”

“Didn’t it?” The Colonel looked away with a distant look in his eyes, “I’ve lived with it for so long now, I can’t seem to remember much of what I did before or even during my time on the border. We used to joke that ponies went there to forget, and by the goddesses, you did. Every damned day was like the last. Somepony tried to talk to me about the afterlife once, you know, about the herd? I told them I didn’t know about the eternal herd and all that spiritualist mumbo jumbo, but by Celestia’s hairy arse I’ve seen hell, Heather,” the Colonel spat on the ground, “and its snow, endless fields of bloody snow.”

Dray’s aide de camp trotted up, saluted and hoofed him a note, “From Flight Captain Harrier, Sir”

The note was grubby, but in the now familiar fine style of the purple pegasus officer. It never ceased to amaze him how much the neat script contrasted with that maverick mare. He began to read, the smile spreading across his face until he couldn’t help but virtually jig with excitement.

“Good news?” Wild asked in a sarcastic voice, but her smile betrayed her real feelings.

Dray bobbed his head. His hooves were starting to itch for the first time in months, a sure sign that things were starting to change. Normally it indicated to the grey earth pony that a new season was coming, but not this time…no. Change was coming, even if only temporarily, but it was coming. He treated Wild to a beaming grin,

“Oh…you could say that.”

Chapter Eighteen - Damaged Goods

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

DAMAGED GOODS

Bracken sat back on his haunches in the well appointed bedroom. He felt...well, pretty good really. In fact, it was the best he’d felt in weeks, if not months. A hot bath, a decent grooming and even having his hooves done! He could understand now why his mother would disappear every now and then to the local spa. If she came out feeling this rejuvenated every time, he wouldn’t mind going there himself. It would certainly be more than worth putting up with the stares of the other stallions for. He even smelt good too! He reached up a foreleg and sniffed it…very nice.

“You like that?” The voice said from across the room, “It’s called ‘Altes Gewürz’, a very expensive cologne from a country far away”

Bracken looked up, “I’m sorry, Miss, you appear to have me at a disadvantage.“

The mare chuckled, her long eyelashes drawing the young stallion’s eyes,

“Do I?” She smiled seductively, “Why don’t you pour us a drink each while we talk?” She motioned toward a pot of tea beside a silver service, complete with milk and sugar.

Bracken nodded politely. Was he still befuddled with drink? Maybe a little, but this was all so very real, either that or the salt lick he’d had had been particularly potent. Whatever was going on, he’d play along; his host had been particularly gracious up until now, and, he had to admit, she had a certain magnetism about her. The mare’s long dress was almost archaic in design, the white lace peeking out from the black neck line was particularly striking against her sea green fur. Her hooves were polished and shone so brightly they caught the glow from the firelight. Bracken had no doubt that if he looked closely enough, he would be able to see his reflection in them.

Madam Pickles closed one eye and cocked her head mischievously, watching him as he poured out the tea,

“Do like what you see?”

Bracken closed his eyes momentarily. What should he say? What did she expect him to say? Goddesses above, he didn’t know how to talk to mares! That was Chalky’s job! He swallowed, deciding that truth was usually the best option. Taking a breath he nodded respectfully,

“Yes.”

The mare leaned forward slightly, “Tell me…what do you like?”

Some strands of hair had broken loose from her hair pin and lay across her sleek neck. The beautiful two tone pastel pink was perfect for her, the way it accentuated her coats colour and how her ponytail was draped across the black of her dress. His eyes met hers, an unexpected confidence taking him,

“Your mane” he said calmly, “It’s beautiful.”

She nodded knowingly, “You flatter me, sir.”

Pickles shifted her forelegs on the large chair, her dress rustling slightly as she moved. The sound, along with the snapping of the logs in the fire and the smell of her perfume was intoxicating. The mare was watching him…those big yellow eyes noting his every movement, every word…

Bracken licked his lips, immediately aware of how her eyes noted even that,

“Ma’am, I…”

She held up a hoof, “-Pickles, please, Bracken” She raised a manicured eyebrow, “If I may call you that?”

“Of course” Bracken replied politely, “Though, you appear to know who I am and, forgive me, I don’t believe we’re met before tonight?”

Pickles took a sip of her tea, “True…true.”

Bracken watched her place the delicate china cup down. Even the way she performed that most simple of acts held a grace that she conducted as instinctively and fluidly as a salmon slips through the river, its rainbow colours catching the dying light of the evening sun.

“I’m afraid” She said quietly, “sailors talk, and here in Spurs Anvil, ponies tend to like…talking…in my home.”

“I see.” Bracken took a sip of his own tea, carefully avoiding too much pressure on the fragile cup, “I’m not sure if my friend thanked you properly, but allow me extend my sincerest thanks for helping us tonight.” He glanced down at his coat, “And for allowing me to clean off.” Bracken flexed his leg, noting how the pain had subsided to the point where it was barely even noticeable.

The corner of the mare’s mouth curled up, “Oh, you are most welcome Bracken.” Her mane shivered slightly, “Young…’Chalk’ was it?” She chuckled, “He and I have concluded our transaction most satisfactorily.”

“Transaction?” Bracken furrowed his brow, “Ma’am, I…”

Pickles shook her head slowly, Brackens unspoken words dying in his mouth, “Bracken, I will tell you what I told your friend. Here, information is a commodity, and it has a price. She turned to gaze into the fire, “Everything…even everypony…has a price.” Bracken sipped his tea as she continued, “Bracken…come here, please. Sit beside me.”

The black stallion walked up beside her and sat on his haunches at her direction. Here, so close to the sea green mare, the smell from her perfume was different. It was more ‘feminine’ somehow, more natural. In some ways it reminded him of home, the comforts of a warm hearth and the love of those who meant something dear to you, to that part of you that is at the very core of who you are.

Pickles reached out and lifted his chin with her polished hoof. Silently, she gazed into his eyes as though she could read his thoughts, peeling away the very layers of his soul to reveal his most precious hearts desire. She let out a soft breath that tantalised his nose and had his ears twitching. The mare noticed and smiled gently,

“Do like me, Bracken?” Her voice lowered to a soft purr, “Do you want to…know me?”

Bracken’s words came without the need for thought,

“Yes ma’am, truly.”

Pickles breathed out huskily, “Close your eyes.”

Obediently, Bracken complied with her request. Standing there, in her room, his own heart beat sounded almost painfully loud in his ears, his hooves feeling so light he wondered if at any moment he would not just simply float up off the ground. Before him, he could hear the soft sound of fabric, moving, slipping quietly to the floor.

“You can open your eyes now.”

Bracken blinked. She was…magnificent. The sea green mare stood before him, her coat, so beautifully silky smooth, shone like diamonds, just like her eyes. Pickles reached up and took out the long hair pin, giving her pink mane a gentle shake. In falls of pastel colour, the mare’s hair rolled down in a lustrous river that nearly reached the floor. The smell of autumn meadows, of wild flowers and honey caressed Bracken’s nose as he drank it all in. He looked into her eyes boldly. He wanted her to see him for who he was, as he wanted her to…

“-Bracken…” She murmured

“Yes?”

“I…” She suddenly seemed shy, as if this supremely confident female was afraid of something. Pickles took his muzzle in her forehooves, “I know what I want, I’ve always know what I want, even when I was but a little foal.” She shivered slightly, and Bracken acted on instinct. Carefully, he reached out a hoof and stroked her mane, feeling the gossamer like strands beneath his touch like rays of sunlight on a summers morning. Pickles leaned her head against his foreleg and kissed it softly, “I want you to see the whole of me.” She took a deep breath, “All…of me…” She turned her body slightly, showing her flank to her young guest.

Bracken closed his eyes a moment, wishing he hadn’t seen…

“Why…” he said quietly, “Why would somepony…”

Pickles gave an involuntary shiver, “When I was a foal, I was caught by griffin slavers. They…do this to try and destroy the identity of their slaves. The rest of you…your mind, they try to remove as well.” She gave a mirthless laugh, “Thinking slaves don’t fetch as much as mindlessly obedient ones.”

Bracken could feel a tear roll down his cheek at the sight. The terrible scar across her flank, the destruction of something so precious, so dear to a pony; how could anypony, even a griffin, be so cruel…so utterly evil?

Pickles reached up a hoof and brushed away his tear, her own eyes welling slightly. She tried to laugh, “I’ve never had anypony cry for me before” She leaned forward and gave him a soft nuzzle, “Doesn’t it…ruin me?”

Bracken kissed her gently on the nose, “Nothing could ruin you, ma’am, nothing in this world.”

The sea green mare choked back a sob, “Stay with me…tonight.”

The peculiar calm that Bracken had felt earlier, the confidence that had held his heart in check, it had all lead him inexorably to now, to this moment in time, with this mare. He didn’t know her, she didn’t know him, and yet here they were. What tomorrow brought, be it good, bad or indifferent, it didn’t matter. What mattered now, was the warm mare before him, the beautiful creature that made his body feel as if it were alive for the first time in his life. He slipped his forelegs round her and moved into her,

“Yes, ma’am”

Bracken’s lips met those of the elegant mare, the scarred foal who’d been through more than he could ever imagine. The mare who was, for reasons that were only her own, wanted to share herself…with him.

********************************

Bracken lay with head snuggled into the soft pillow while Pickles stroked his mane. He felt like he could fly, and yet felt so tired, in a warm and happy way. Pickles leaned down and gently nibbled his ear, sending another tingle through his body,

“I can’t believe you don’t have some you filly waiting for somewhere” She said quietly, “You’d be quite the catch.”

Bracken chuckled, “Me? No, it was always Chalky who’s the one the mares go for. He just seems to have a sort of natural magnetism that way.”

Pickles raised an eyebrow gauging his reaction, “Jealous?”

“A little” He looked up into her eyes, “But not now.”

She leaned down and kissed him,

“Young Mister Dust is an attractive pony, in his own way, and he doesn’t seem to realise it either.” She gave a light snort, “Maybe it’s just as well. Still,” she said tapping Bracken lightly on the nose, “some mares like that sort of thing. Others” she said grinning, “like their stallions to be stallions, not ‘pretty ponies’”.

Bracken would have burst out laughing if Pickles hadn’t suddenly grabbed him and pulled him into a kiss that was quickly developing into…

“Ma’am! We’ve got trouble!”

A sand coloured mare hammered on the door before pushing it open.

“Damn it all!” Pickles shouted, “Don’t just bloody well barge in, girl!”

“I…I’m sorry ma’am!” the mare stuttered, “Its…”

“Yes?”

“There’s a group of ponies downstairs, they’ve got weapons and…” the mares chest was heaving as she tried to get her breath, “they’ve stabbed Fix.”

Pickles jumped off the bed and grabbed her nightdress before taking down a cutlass from the wall,

“Help me with this.”

Bracken was quickly by her side, “No…Pickles, give me the sword, I’ll…”

“You will do no such thing!” She snapped, “This is my establishment, my home, and nopony invades my home!”

The black stallion nodded to her and reached up to take down the other cutlass from the display. Hefting it, he smiled to himself. This was no simple ornament; the numerous nicks in the blade were more than testament to that fact. He gave Pickles a wink and trotted to the door,

“I take it you don’t mind if somepony watches your back?”

Pickles pushed past him onto the landing and slapped his rump,

“I think you’ve done more than enough of that for one night, Mister Bracken.”

The lobby below was a scene of utter chaos, with ponies running about launching items of furniture, crockery, or whatever else came readily to hoof, at a group of cloaked individuals who were sheltering behind the entrance halls pillar’s. Beneath the balcony, Bracken caught sight of an orange coated stallion being tended to by several mares. He was moving, but clearly in pain.

“Ma’am!” One of the mares shouted up from beside the stricken Fix, “Flower’s gone for the watch, they’ll be here soon.”

“Buck the watch!” Pickles snarled. She took a deep breath, her voice bellowing out across the lobby, “ALL OF YOU, STOP THAT BLOODY NONSENSE, NOW!”

Like magic, everything stopped. The ponies below all turned to look up at the balcony, including the newcomers. Pickles stood up on her hind legs, leaning her fore hooves on the balcony railing as her voice rang out,

“You there!” She pointed down to one of the largest of the cloaked newcomers, “Are you in charge of that lot?”

The strangely avian voice of a griffin came back, only the tip of its beak visible from beneath the hood,

“Nopony needs to get hurt, Madam Pickles, all we want is the black stallion.” The griffin lifted a claw, pointing it straight at a surprised Bracken, “Give him to us and we’ll leave.”

“And that’s it, is it?” Pickles glowered, “You think I’ll simply hoof over one of our clients because you come in here, to our home, and attack us? Do you have any idea how much all this will cost to put right?”

A slightly smaller figure walked forward, its voice less commanding than the first, but clearly carrying a note of authority,

“All we seek is the black stallion. I assure you, we have no intention of harming him, and our…contractor…has authorised payment for any repairs to your property.” He motioned towards the prostrated form of Fix, “As well as all medical bills covered in full, naturally.”

Pickles’ voice lowered dangerously,

“How dare you! How bloody dare you!”

A black foreleg reached out and distracted her,

“And if she refuses? What then?” Bracken’s voice carried down the stairs. All eyes were on him now. In response the cloaked griffin paused, then, slowly and deliberately, lifted his claw. Almost instantly, heavy crossbows appeared in the hooves and claws of his compatriots. Bracken took a breath, sighing it out. He knew then that whoever these characters were, they would carry out their threat without a second thought and ponies, mares, would die unless they got what they wanted. He snorted out a laugh, dropping his sword, “I always wanted to play the hero…”

Pickles stared at him wide eyed,

“What the bloody hell are you playing at? Bracken, don’t…!”

The black stallion shook his head, “Pickles…” he reached forward and gave her a nuzzle, “I won’t have anypony hurt because of me, least of all you.” He smiled, “You can’t risk your home or your girls. It isn’t right.”

“But they…”

Bracken kissed her softly on the muzzle, “They said they wouldn’t harm me. Besides, I’ll probably be fine and all being well, I’ll see you again.”

Pickles’ large yellow eyes began to fill with tears, her voice quavering,

“You…you stupid arse…” she gasped, “you’d better!” she wiped her eyes with a foreleg and grabbed him, pulling him into a kiss before releasing him. She leaned over the balcony once more, her demeanour steady and commanding, “If you harm him, if anything happens to him…” her voice carried a note of cold fury that made Brackens steps falter as he descended the stairs, “I will find you, all of you, and I will send you to the eternal flames the underworld” Pickles’ eyes narrowed, her teeth bared, “…one…by…one.”

The cloaked creatures said nothing. If Pickles’ words had any impact on them, they didn’t let it show. The larger creature, the griffin, moved aside to allow Bracken to pass before following him closely out of the doorway. Seconds later, the last of the cloaked ones paused before following his fellows. With a flick of his hoof, he threw a bag of coins through the air to land with a loud ‘clink’ beside the injured Fix.

Without another word, the pony turned and left.

The ponies in the lobby visibly relaxed, several quickly beginning the now mammoth task of tidying up the wreckage of their home whilst other tended to Fix. The sandy coated mare trotted up to the balcony and sat besides the madam who was still staring at the front door as if at any moment, a black coated stallion would simply just trot back in, his grey eyes gazing up at her beneath that long flow of deep blue hair. She took a breath and stared at her cutlass. It had been years since she’d used it last, years since that arse she’d fallen for had swept her off her hooves and…

Now wasn’t the time for that.

Pickles turned back to her room,

“Find Frilly and Jade, send them to me immediately.”

“Yes, ma’am”

The madam of the house, the sea green mare who had spent years, years, building up a business which now had the best reputation on the coast, if not the whole of Equestria, had been threatened, threatened, in her own home! She stood before the fireplace and took off her night dress, trying to repress her feelings of anger and shame. She closed her eyes, letting the garment slip to the floor before picking it up and throwing it onto the bed. The same bed that…

Pickles gritted her teeth, willing the memories away. It was time for resolve, for clear thinking. She’d been unprepared for what had happened and she’d always prided herself on knowing everything that went on in the town…everything, no matter how insignificant. Of this situation however, there had been no warning, no hint of trouble. Just what was it about Bracken that had these thugs after him? She trotted to the heavily bound sea chest and shoved it open. It had been…how long? She couldn’t remember. The last time she’d opened this was to bury her memories, to put them out of her mind…but not quite forever. Here they lay, asleep in the wooden chest with its smell of cedar and leather. It was the finest work of both pony and griffin: supple, yet strong, and functional. She reached in and took out her clothes and gear.

“Ma’am?”

Two mares stood at the doorway. The large pale blue mare, Frilly, complete with clay pipe, entered and bobbed her head. How many times had she told her not to smoke that bloody thing indoors? Pickles shrugged, she’d admonish her later. Beside the enigmatic blue mare strode a muscular pale green mare with striking orange eyes,

“Ma’am, you asked for us?”

Pickles nodded,

“Help me with this, will you.”

Between them, the mares help dress their lady. The stout pair of trousers were buckled around her midriff, and the heavy woollen coat with its smart red on black braid was next, its buttons still shiny even after all this time. A blue sash went around her waist next, the scabbard, baldric and finally the cutlass. Frilly passed her a wide brimmed hat, complete with large black and green plume that hung down the back. Jade stood back from plaiting the long pink mane and nodded,

“I never thought I’d see the day…”

Pickles adjusted the grip on her sword,

“Neither did I”, she answered coolly, “Get yourselves ready, girls. We have somepony I want to see.”

************************

The temperature had dropped, the timbers creaking in response to the approaching change of season. Gretel leaned across the stern of the Revenge, listening to the wind as it whistled through the rigging, the waves lapping at the hull. The old vessel knew, she could feel her Captain’s torment and her hull resonated with her grief. The red mare shook with anger, anger and the pain she was feeling in her heart. She leaned her forehead against the elegantly carved wood, her tears long since dried up. She had no more to shed,

“Why, Doc? Can you tell me why?”

The blue coated stallion walked across the quarter deck and placed Gretel’s coat across her shoulders,

“I can’t Gretel” he said gently, “Maladies of the body I can help with. Maladies of the heart…” He shook his head, “I never was very good at that.”

She never turned round. The sea was so beautiful, even in the darkness. This was her home, her life, a life she’d hoped to share with the white unicorn. Goddess damn him, she’d even gone against her fathers advice to let him stay aboard, risked dissent amongst the crew…and for what? What the hell was it all for? So he could run off to be with that…that whore?!

Doc cleared his throat,

“You don’t know that for sure, Captain.”

Damn it, had she been thinking out loud? Gretel took a deep breath. She was obviously more unsettled than she’d thought. Still, speaking to Doc may help ease how she was feeling, and right now, she needed a friend.

“Doc, he stank of that mare! She always wears the same damned perfume. For all the years I knew her, she never, ever changed it.” Gretel gritted her teeth angrily, “I thought…I thought I was finally rid of her, free of her bloody influence and now…now she steals my…my…”

“-steals your what? Your bed warmer?”

Gretel’s eyes went wide in shock then narrowed angrily as she span around to face the mare standing on her quarterdeck…on HER quarterdeck! It was like an explosion of light in her head, the sheer anger, rage and pain she felt right at that moment focussed to a single lethal point of hatred. The night air was rent with the scream of unbridled fury as the Revenge’s Captain threw herself at the sea green mare that had sullied her deck with her accursed presence.

The cutlass snarled through the air, propelled by all the strength and concentrated heartache that boiled through Gretel’s body. Inches from her antagonist’s throat, her blade slammed to a halt, the ring of steel on steel echoing across the ships deck and out across the silent bay. The pale blue mare flicked Gretel’s blade away with her own, moving to block any more attempts on her madam’s life. Gretel’s anger was at boiling point and she took a step back, her teeth bared in a snarl, ready to go all out, ready to throw abandon to the wind and send this bitch to the afterlife. Then suddenly, a familiar blue stallion wearing a thin pair of spectacles loomed in her vision, his pink eyes staring straight into hers.

Doc said nothing, instead he just shook his head slowly and waited. He watched Gretel knowingly, taking in how her chest heaved and her muscles twitched. He’d always known there was bad blood between her and Pickles, it was one of the reasons why his Captain hated docking at Spurs Anvil, but there more to it this time; this was because of that white unicorn wasn’t it? He sat on his haunches and waited. He would be there if and when she needed him. This was something she needed to speak to ‘her’ about.

Gretel roughly sheathed her cutlass and glowered at the sea green mare before her,

“You have some damned nerve waltzing aboard my ship and showing your face here! I won’t even ask how you got past the deck watch you old hag, but I want you off here in the next five seconds or I’ll gut you and throw your stinking remains over the side.”

Pickles sighed, “You always did have a penchant for melodrama my dear” she shrugged, “And for failing to gather the most basic of facts before leaping to rash actions that so recently nearly cost you your ship I believe. The very ship your father entrusted to you.”

Gretel tossed her mane angrily, “What in name of all that’s holy are you jabbering on about? Speak quickly, I don’t have time for this crap. As you so obviously pointed out, I have a ship to run.”

“You’re missing somepony, I believe?” Pickles asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gretel’s eye twitched. That way she had of speaking in that high and mighty manner, the clothes she wore, that bloody perfume…! “Oh, you know alright…” Gretel spat, “I know what you and he did, you pox riddled whore! He stank to the high heavens of you!” Her hoof twitched to her sword hilt. Oh, how she wanted to strike that supercilious bitch down!

Pickles clucked her tongue, “You always had such a charming turn of phrase, Gretel, and as much as I’d enjoy sparring with you my dear, I fear neither of us have the luxury of time in this matter.”

In answer to the Captains puzzled expression, the sea green mare tossed her mane and continued, “I have no interest in your pretty pony, Gretel, that is your taste, not mine. No…” She fixed her with a hard stare of her yellow eyes, “There’s more at work here than you or I know.”

Gretel stomped a hoof irritably, “Will you get to the bloody point?”

Pickles shook her said slowly, “So rash…” she sat back on her haunches and closed her eyes a moment collecting her thoughts, “You know of the black earth pony stallion, Bracken?”

The Captain nodded warily, “Yes, he’s Chalky’s friend.”

“Then you’ll also be aware” Pickles continued, “that the two were set upon by a group of assailants earlier this evening and it was only by the grace of the goddesses that Frilly opened the back door when she did. If she hadn’t, your little unicorn bed fellow and his friend would likely be floating in the bay right now.”

Gretel’s eyes went wide in surprise, her mouth hanging open as her mind reeled. Chalky had said something…when he came back, he tried to…and she wouldn’t listen, she just…

“I took them in and sent Chalk back with Fix to your ship” Pickles stated calmly, “I take it from your reaction, that the unicorn is not here?”

“No…”

“Then we don’t have any more time to lose.” The sea green mare stated commandingly, “Whoever they are attacked my establishment, injured one my employees and forced one my clients away at sword point.” She gripped the hilt of her cutlass, “I want him back, Gretel” Pickles growled menacingly, “I want Bracken back. Nopony steals from me…nopony!”

“You’re not making any sense” Gretel said, adjusting her hat on her head, “Who would kidnap Bracken, and what’s Chalky got to…” She face hoofed, “Oh goddesses…”

“You see it now?” Pickles said irritably, “Those two are inseparable. If Chalk Dust has discovered his friend is in trouble, he could be looking for him now as we speak. On the other hoof, if they found him before they came to my home…”

She didn’t need to say any more. Gretel could see it in her eyes, that understanding that Chalky could already be…dead. A whirl of emotions ran through her; anger at her own foolishness and anger at him for not making her listen. Why couldn’t he have made her listen?! Goddess damn him, he was a stallion wasn’t he? She trotted to the balustrade of the quarterdeck,

“Master Stock!”

A dark brown stallion appeared on the deck,

“Aye, Cap’n?”

“Get a shore party together.” Gretel ordered, “I don’t give a damn who it is so long as they can fight. Have them ready on deck in the next five minutes.”

“Aye, Aye, Cap’n”

Gretel watched him disappear below decks to assemble the crew. Now there was a pony who did what he was told, one who would follow orders. Chalky on the other hoof…She took a deep breath and sighed it out, watching the white cloud dissipate into the cold night air. Gretel took in Pickles’ unusual apparel,

“I see you’ve dressed for the occasion.”

“Naturally” the older mare replied walking up beside her, “Are you surprised?”

“I’m surprised it still fits after all these years. Life ashore obviously agrees with you, and your…lifestyle.”

Pickled gave her a wry smile, “It helps for me to stay fit, if that’s what you mean.”

Gretel raised an eyebrow before turning to look out over the water,

“You know…I still hate you for what you did.”

Pickles paused, watching the wind ripple the furled sails. She’d never felt the love of the sea and sky the way he had, how it had called to him, how the ship had called to him. She preferred to be warm and dry, comfortable, with a glass of wine or cup of tea, perhaps a teacake and a good lover, or maybe even just a good book. When she had seen Bracken though, those eyes…she’d known straight away he was the one. She’d always been a mare who knew what she wanted and now, somepony had stolen what was hers. By the goddess, they would pay for that. She gripped her sword…everypony paid in the end. But then Gretel, now she was another story…Pickles cast the red mare a glance and tried to make her voice sound a little more cheerful than she felt,

“If it makes any difference, Gretel, I never hated you. I always…”

“-I know” Gretel cut in, turning towards the steps to the main deck, “I just…father…”

“You loved him very much. He knew that, Gretel. He may not have shown it, that was just the kind of stallion he was, but he did love you, as much I think, as he loved this old ship.” Pickles ran her hoof along the balustrade, “Maybe more.”

Gretel stopped halfway down the steps, her mind reeling. Father…She gave herself a shake and walked down to the deck before calling over her shoulder,

“If you’re coming, you’d better not slow us up.”

The sea green mare smiled, “You know, I was thinking the same thing?”

Gretel rolled her eyes, “Oh, shut up, mother.”

Chapter Thirty Two - Goddess of War

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

GODDESS OF WAR

“I can honestly say I never thought we’d have any bloody luck, and you know, I can freely admit…I may have been wrong.”

Dray shook his head, “If that’s the case, Heather, then i’m damned glad you are.”

The two officers stood at the edge of the blackened forest, looking out at what had been a battlefield only weeks earlier. Now, it was a quiet, peaceful place. No birds sang here, no foxes barked, no pheasants called, just silence except for the bubbling of the meandering river that was barely more than a knee deep stream. They’d walked for days, but this time they’d taken a chance and walked during the daytime to make up time and improve morale. Harrier and her pegasi had flown high altitude reconnaissance and reported back that there was little to no Legion activity in this area. Dray had been reluctant to believe it at first, even though Harrier was the best there was, but it was still there at the back of his mind…don’t trust anypony, only trust yourself, don’t feel…act. Dray prayed the Legion had moved away and, incredibly, they had. In fact, the whole area looked so peaceful he wouldn’t have been surprising to find a family enjoying a picnic by the river, other than for the freezing weather of course. The nights were becoming noticeably colder by the day, and no doubt snow would soon arrive to carpet the land. What was particularly strange however, was how ‘clean’ the area looked, as if every single scrap of evidence there had ever been a battle here had been meticulously removed, the area cleansed of everything. There were no bodies, no weapons, no discarded gear…nothing.

Dray didn’t like it. Every battlefield had a sense about it, a ‘feeling’ of sorts, and this place still held that for him. The Legion may have cleared the bodies away, but the land remembered, the ground soaked with the blood of the fallen, the smaller items and personal trinkets trodden into the mud; they’d still be there, waiting for somepony to find a thousand years from now - a ghostly relic of a time long forgotten. The Colonel shook his mane. He would never forget, and he’d do everything he could to make sure nopony else would. Something needed to be done to remember those who’d fallen, but then, that was a thought for another day. If he survived all of this, if any of them did, Equestria would never forget.

Wild nudged him, “Are you sure this is it? There’s nothing here.” She removed her canteen and took a mouthful of water, “Even Harrier said the area’s clear.”

“Aye,” Dray replied calmly, “clear of everything…even the dead.”

“Do you suppose they buried them?” Wild asked.

Dray shrugged, “I don’t know. Those thestrals have some sort of strange honour code, but I’m buggered if I can work them out.”

He didn’t want to either. Those things had to be stopped, they had to be turned back, and, Goddesses willing, thrown into the pit from whence they came.

Wild stretched her neck and yawned, “Did you ever see those things on the border?”

“Thestrals?” Dray asked, “No. I don’t know where they come from, but they’re not native to Equestria so far as I can tell.”

“Ever asked one?”

Dray shook his head, “Can’t say I’ve have had the chance. They’ve usually been too busy trying to kill me or me them. From what I could tell, their pony allies know about as much as I do about them too.” He sighed, “Of course, they could be lying.”

“I can’t believe Equestrians would fight for that monster Nightmare Moon.” The Major said quietly, “It goes against everything I was ever taught as a filly.”

“She’s still Princess Luna, Heather.” The Colonel snorted, “You’ve never heard about the story of the children of the sun and the children of the night?”

“Dray…” Wild rolled her eyes, “That’s a foals bedtime story, meant more to terrify them into being quiet than anything else. Dad used to tell me it when I was getting out of hoof and I’d end up hiding under the sheets shaking like a bloody leaf.”

“I think there’s some truth to it.” Dray said rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “Those who are born under the sign of the moon are the natural followers of the princess of the night. The opposite goes for Celestia.”

“But it’s all superstition!” Wild said in exasperation, “Like reading tea leaves. You’ll be telling me it’s got something to do with your hoof size next, or which way the leaves fall and all that rubbish.”

“You thought the Crystal Empire was a fairy story, didn’t you.” Dray replied calmly, watching her with his steady gaze, “Then down from the night sky comes…”

“-I know!” Wild snapped, “Good grief, there’s at least physical evidence that the Empire existed. It doesn’t mean all the stories about it are true.”

Dray raised an eyebrow meaningfully, “How do you explain the grey ghosts then?”

The red mare clucked her tongue, “Hey, you’re the ex-border guard, not me. I’m a warm weather gal.”

“I think they were a group who were ‘born under the moon’.” The Colonel said tossing his mane, “Not that it really matters, they made their choice and they’ll have to live with the consequences.”

“Hmph,” Wild sniffed, “I’m more bothered about our circumstances than their consequences. Anyway, I guess today’s the day we find out what your mysterious friend was talking about.”

“Or tonight” Dray added, “If nothing comes of this, then…” he shook his head, “I don’t know, Heather. Let’s just see.”

Nearby, Bracken and Chalk were trudging along with the rest of the soldiers. They’d been assigned to a tall stallion called Whisper, or at least that’s what he called himself. He was there, ostensibly, to work with them to find ‘something’. Bracken wondered if it was more a case of keeping an eye on their two new ‘guests’ to make sure they didn’t do anything that would endanger the rest of them. Regardless, the best part of all of this though was that nopony seemed to know what the bloody hell it was they were actually looking for! He groaned and pulled the cloak tighter around his neck. At least he wasn’t freezing to death now. Despite their griffin cloaks and extra gear, hot food had made all the difference. Another interesting new feature had been socks - long brown things that fitted just above your hooves, up your leg and tied under your shoulder or haunch. They seemed a pretty good idea really, and Bracken was glad the army lot had brought spares. Keeping the bloody things up though could be a bit of a problem, but it was well worth the effort. Chalky was raving about them too, and talked endlessly about getting a set for Gretel. Somehow, he doubted the frisky white unicorn wanted her to wear them for practical reasons. Bloody pervert. Speaking of which, he came bounding over, full of his trademark enthusiasm,

“Hey, Brack, you okay? You’re very quiet.”

“Huh?” Bracken shrugged, “Just thinking, Chalky, about nothing really.”

“Yeah?” Chalk looked around him in concern, “You haven’t noticed where we are?”

“Of course I have!” Bracken replied sourly, “I was here too you know.”

“I know that!” Chalk said anxiously, “It’s just…haven’t you noticed anything? Theres no bodies, no skeletons, no weapons…no nothing.”

“They’ll have been buried,” Bracken reasoned, “You don’t want rotting corpses bloating in the sun, dude. They’ll attract maggots and…”

“-All right! I get it! Celestia’s rump, Brack, I need to be able to sleep at night you know.” Chalk frowned at his friend pointedly.

Bracken shrugged. Chalky had a point, but he’d seen it before, like when the plague hit the village and wiped out about a fifth of the population: mass cremation, a quick service and it was back to business as usual. Lovely little world, wasn’t it? He thought to himself sarcastically.

The white stallion up front in the golden armour pulled up short,

“Shut up…I hear something.”

Whisper made the sound of some sort of forest bird, and the rest of the ponies stopped and lay flat, with only several, the scouts, remaining mobile and on the lookout for danger. One of them rushed up to Whisper,

“What is it?”

“Listen,” Whisper said cryptically, “it’s on the wind, a song like…” he scratched his horn, “I don’t know, its hard to say, but theres a low level magical field building up near here. It could be what we’re after.”

The other pony nodded, “I’ll go tell the Colonel.”

“Pssst” Bracken waved at Chalk with his hoof. The white unicorn shuffled over. “You itching too?” he asked.

Chalk nodded, “A little. What do you think it is?”

Bracken raised an eyebrow, “Hopefully whatever they’re looking for. I’m getting sick of this skulking about bollocks. I don’t know about you, but I want to get out of here and back to Spurs Anvil.”

“Spurs Anvil?!” Chalk hissed, “What the hell do you want to go back there f-…oh…”

Bracken nodded, “I’ve been thinking about it,” he said quietly, “home’s out for the minute, your suicide trip up north will kill us, and as much as its an absolute cesspit, it’s your best bet for finding your pirate piece.”

“Will you stop calling her my ‘pirate piece’?” Chalk whispered angrily, “It’s really starting to piss me off!” He narrowed his eyes and huffed, hanging his head as he let out a resigned sigh, “You’re right though Brack…Damn it, I just…you know.”

Bracken laid a hoof on his friends shoulder, “Hey, I could have said something but I didn’t. Let’s get this bollocks over with and then we’ll go and see Dray. I’ve had enough of…”

“Shhh!” It was Whisper, “Belt up and follow me. Keep close.”

The three of them continued on into the forest, the rest of the small army around them moving as one entity, as quiet as an army of ghosts.

*******************

Dray felt as if his eyes could burst into flame. He’d been staring so intently into the dappled light of the forest, he was starting to get a headache. Probably eyestrain, he thought, taking a swig of water from his canteen; the light here was hard on your vision and created shadows that had you jumping at phantoms. Still, this was it, the destination they’d be striving to reach, and tonight was the night of the full moon. It was still daylight, although it wouldn’t be for long. He hated this time of year, the long dark nights and the short days. It always gave him a sense of despondency, as if he were merely waiting for the world to begin again. Today however, there was something strange in the air, a peculiar sense of anticipation, of ‘waiting’ that had his unicorns having conniptions. Being an earth pony, he had no magic as such, but he could still feel ‘something’. Wild could too,

“We’re here, aren’t we.” She said breathlessly as though even the mere mention could dispel the excitement of the moment.

“Aye.” Dray nodded, “I believe we are.”

“So what now,” Wild whispered, “did your mysterious cloaked figure tell you what to do next?”

“Nope.” Dray shook his head, “Your guess is as good as mine at this point.” He looked around, “Spread out the…”

The ground shook.

“COLONEL!” A soldier suddenly shouted back to his officer throwing caution completely to the wind. The white guards pony was stood up and pointing towards…

“My Goddesses…” Dray breathed, “What in Equestria is that?!”

Everypony was staring in the same direction. Not far away an immense silver ball of light had appeared out of nowhere, like an alien parody of the sun brought to earth. Silently, it rapidly began expanding outwards, engulfing the trees and sending birds screeching up into the sky. The unicorns around him began shrieking and yelling in pain, clutching at their heads until, as suddenly as it had appeared, the enormous magical orb winked out of existence. There was a pause as the ponies began to pull themselves to their hooves. Quickly, the Colonel hurried to his Lieutenant,

“Send some of your fastest ponies up to see what’s going on, Lieutenant. No unicorns, just earth ponies, understood?”

The white stallion nodded, “Yes, Sir.”

Dray turned back to Major Wild, “I don’t know what that was Heather, but I have a horrible feeling I’m not going to like it.”

“Not a fan of magic, eh?” she said sardonically.

“Not of the unknown.” Dray replied grimly, “When it’s affecting our unicorns like that, it doesn’t bode well.”

She sniffed, “I know what you…bollocks! GET DOWN!”

Wild’s warning came just in time. Dray threw himself to the ground as the blast blew through the trees like a hurricane around them. The hot wind was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before in his life. It was almost ‘solid’, a sheer force of will, of unfathomable energy, charged with a depth of feeling that made his fur stand on end. But it was the cry that followed it, the scream of pain, loss and unadulterated grief that sounded like Equestria was in torment which froze his heart. Wild scooted up next to him, pushing her muzzle into his neck - he’d never seen her like this before. The Major was…frightened. Goddess damn it, for that matter, so was he! Dray looked about him, checking his sword was free in its scabbard. It was as he’d feared, the ponies were all terrified beyond anything he’d ever witnessed, even at River Valley. That scream, that horrible cry of suffering - it rolled through him, resonating with his own feelings, dragging out the memories of his wife, his foals…Dray’s heart howled out in sympathy with the world around them…Dear Goddesses…he was so empty…so alone…

Wild was shaking, her hoof reaching out for him. Dray, his own emotional state crumbling down around him, moved to her, taking her in his forelegs and held her. The two ponies, their eyes closed, lay together on the forest floor lost in their own private worlds of hopelessness and loss while the storm raged about them.

Nearby, Bracken huddled in a ball beside Chalk who was screeching like a scalded cat. He couldn’t do anything, and he didn’t want to do anything either! He just wanted to go home. He didn’t want this! He’d only ever wanted a quiet life, a life of peace and a simple, boring existence. But then he’d tasted adventure…and he’d met her…that beautiful mare with the pink mane. Why had he left her…why? He could have fought those cloaked rats off, he was a trained soldier, he could have done it! He could have been with her now! His head felt like it would burst, the wind roaring in his ears. By the Goddess, why wouldn’t this stop?! It was too much!

Chalk Dust hung onto his head in agony. His horn burned furiously like it was a white hot brand melting into his skull. He’d come across magical build up before, but that was like the warmth of a summers day compared to standing in the middle of a bloody furnace! This was unbearable! He rolled on the ground and gasped. The emotional energy that accompanied the intense magical field was unbelievably strong, stirring up all the memories of his past, and not the good ones either. The bullying, the destruction at the school, the death of the minotaurs by the ship’s gangplank, the pixies…Dear Goddesses, the pixies! They’d tried to eat him alive…it was like his uncle all over again; that monster…the sauce! He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it all out but nothing was working. Chalk did something he didn’t do very often: he prayed. If there was a hell, then surely this was it! He was going to die wasn’t he? This was it, the end of the world had finally come and his short life was going to end right here in some Goddess forsaken forest. Chalk closed his eyes even tighter, his muzzle pressed into the ground. He uttered a word, a name…

“Gretel.”

His voice was lost in the drama around him as the wind pulled at his mane and tail. All the ponies could feel it now, hear the sorrow, the cry of emptiness burning through them as if they were all linked on some spiritual level.

Dray’s ears were flattened against the wind noise and the finer particles of debris that flew around them. Major Wild was pressing hard into him, tears leaking from her eyes. He could understand. This was no natural wind, nor anything he’d ever seen the likes of before in his life. This was on a level that even he as an earth pony could sense. He took a breath, covering his friend’s head with his, waiting for the storm to pass. Seconds crawled past, but then, as quickly as it had begun, the storm simply…stopped.

Wild opened her eyes, not daring to move,

“Is…is it over?”

Dray stood and shook himself free of all the twigs, grass, and other assorted debris that covered him,

“Aye, Heather, I think so. Come on, let’s see if anypony’s hurt.”

He reached down and helped her up. In doing so, he noticed that everypony else was beginning to rise to their hooves as well, checking themselves over for injuries. Mercifully, it appeared there hadn’t been anything more serious than a few minor bumps and scratches.

“I’m taking a leap of guesswork here and assuming that this wasn’t mentioned by your mystery pony?” The Major quipped, spitting out a blade of grass.

Dray shook his head and grinned despite himself, “No, but you may want to get those twigs out of your mane…” he motioned towards the group of scouts who were trotting towards them, “We’ve got company.”

Major Wild furrowed her brow, staring at Dray who was grinning from ear to ear. What was…

“Oh…oh dear goddesses…”

Wild stumbled over her own hooves, her eyes going wide in shock. For a moment, for the merest heartbeat, she wondered if she were dreaming. But no…walking towards them from out of the forest’s depths was indeed what the Colonel’s mysterious figure had rather enigmatically called…‘hope’.

The two guardsponies appeared first, flanking the tall, magnificent creature whom many had believed lost forever. She was their oasis where they could slake their thirst in a desert of despair, their light in the darkness and the salvation they sought from the darkness of Nightmare Moon. Golden burnished armour glinting in the dappled sunlight, her pure white wings ruffling from the slight breeze and her rainbow mane flowing out behind her like the promise of love for an empty heart, their Goddess appeared as if from a dream.

The white alicorn strode up to Dray, her striking large purple eyes staring straight into his soul. He swallowed and bowed, the rest of the ponies around him following suit. He could feel his heart swelling, his life returning to him. She was here…truly here! Perhaps for the first time since he’d lost his beloved family, he felt that there was something to look forward to, some brighter future for all of them. He’d never been much of a royalist, but now, the way she was looking at him compared to when he’d first met her…she’d changed. This was not the same naïve princess who’d hurried off to spank her naughty sister. No. This time, here, now, their princess of the sun radiated something he’d never thought he’d experience from such a creature:

Vengeance.

Celestia planted her halberd’s haft into the ground and looked about her. Taking a deep breath, she spoke,

“Stand. All of you.”

Dray push himself to his hooves, his face lowered. She was…

“Look at me.” She commanded.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Dray collected himself and looked up at the magnificent alicorn. He nearly gasped aloud in surprise. Those eyes! He’d only seen eyes like that on a pony after a battle - the haunted look of pain, horror, sadness, but also the sense of determination and will to fight on until the battle was won. Dray’s heart cried out for her. What had happened to her, to make her like this, this…goddess of war?

“I know your face,” The Princess said. “Dray. Correct?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The white alicorn looked about her at the expectant faces, their tired and worn expressions. They were all expecting so much - a miracle even, and yet…there were no such things were there? Not for her. She leaned her head back and drew in the forest air, the air of…home. And home where he should have been now, with her. Celestia shook her mane, sending the ethereal colours rippling out and drawing the eyes of the expectant ponies. Later…later she would think on this. Right now, here, her people were awaiting her,

“Colonel Dray,” Celestia began, “Report.”

***********************

“I can’t see! Goddesses damn it, who is that? I can’t bloody well…” Chalk pushed and heaved, trying to see past the press of ponies, “Hey, who is it? What’s going on?”

Bracken bopped him on the side of the head, “Shut up will you! Bloody hell, Chalky, it’s the Princess, she’s back!”

“Who? Luna?”

“No, you berk, Celestia.” Bracken rolled his eyes, “You really pick your times well don’t you.”

“I couldn’t help it!” Chalk snapped back, “I had to go. You can’t keep it in or you’ll…”

“Chalky!” Bracken snapped, “The Princess is here, Celestia! And you’re talking about taking a crap in bush!”

“You started it!” Chalk retaliated, “Anyway, I can’t see a bloody thing with this lot in the way. It could be a pink hippopotamus for all I know.”

Suddenly everypony went silent, including the two of them. A voice, commanding a strong, flowed around them like the warmth of the sun itself,

“My people,” Celestia began, “I have returned to you today with a heavy heart. Nightmare Moon holds sway upon the land and the forces of darkness ravage our homes, killing our people: our brothers, our sisters, our mothers, our fathers…” she paused, “Many of you have seen horrors beyond anything I would ever have imagined could have come to pass in this once beautiful land. Death itself has been visited upon us by the Legion and their allies, bringing a level of suffering and pain that are simply unimaginable. You have faced these, you have fought them, more so even than I.” She shook out her wings, “You have come here looking for hope, for salvation from the evil of Nightmare Moon. I say to you now, as I stand here before you all, that I am no better than any pony here today. Before we met our foe at River Valley, I was prideful, foolish…and I was punished for that foolishness. Yet many of our people paid a far higher price than I.” Silence fell in the clearing as Celestia looked around them, “I was wrong, but I am not so prideful as to not be able to admit that I can make mistakes.” She stomped a hoof, raising her head and her voice, “But now, my children, now, I see the dire times we are living in with a clarity that I lacked before. I can see in your hearts your will and your determination to be free, to take back what was ours. What is ours.”

A general rumbling spread out amongst the assembled ponies.

“Equestria is my home, but it is also your home, your land. It is the land of your father, your mother and of your children - children who should be born and raised into a world without war, without fear…only hope…and love”

Celestia began to pace, her mane rippling in some unseen wind as the golden glow of magic began to envelop her. With a loud crack, her wings snapped open and she floated up into the air above them, held in a sphere of purest sunlight,

“I promise you, all of you, that I will fight by your side and bring the light back to your lives. I will bring the sun back where once there was only the chill of night. It will be hard, and I will have to ask more of you than I have ever asked before, but as your Princess I make this vow - I would die before I allow the evil creature Nightmare Moon to rule my home unchallenged. I will fight, I will fight and I will win!” her voice suddenly dropped, a cold note entering it as she bared her teeth, “Too much has happened here, too much cruelty, too much suffering. For us to defeat our enemy, we must understand them, we must think like them, and visit upon them the death and ruin that they have wrought upon our homes ten times more than they could ever have imagined in their worst nightmares! For us to be victorious, for us to make Equestria free once more, we must cleanse this land. We must wipe the forces of Nightmare Moon away with the sword and the axe. We must burn them with our magic as bright as the burning midday sun!” Her voice rang out - strong, defiant…powerful, “There will be no mercy for those who have plundered and scoured our land. The blood of our brothers and sisters that stains this ground must be paid for in the blood of our enemies. From now on, from now until our land is free once more, you must seal your hearts away and have only one focus in your minds: destroy your enemy. Smite them with all your strength, kill them without remorse, without mercy…” she smiled wryly, “Victory is victory…at any cost.” Suddenly her voice boomed out, its effect instantaneous amongst the stallions and mares who were all staring at her,

“DEATH TO THE LEGION! DEATH TO NIGHTMARE MOON!”

As one the ponies reared, their hearts full to overflowing with love for their Goddess and the intensity of their devotion to her. A single voice, a single voice with many mouths, bellowed a defiant cry to the princess of the night,

“DEATH TO THE LEGION! DEATH TO NIGHTMARE MOON!”

The war cry of the Celestian army bore the Princess up upon a powerful wave of raw energy as she bathed them in the warm embrace of the sun’s love. It was as it should be, as it always should have been. Her people could never understand the void within her. They could, and should, only ever see her as the princess of the sun. On the outside, Celestia smiled for her people, but inside, inside she could only feel a cold emptiness, an emptiness that now, could only be filled by war.

Dray stared up at the sun princess, the living Goddess of Equestria and felt a tear roll down his cheek. Until now, until this very moment, he had no idea just how empty his heart had been until it had been filled by her light. He glanced at Wild beside him, her large jade eyes shining in the Princess’s glow. She looked back at him and smiled, a smile of such joy, such sheer bliss, he knew that he would give anything and everything to protect this most precious of places, and the smiles of all ponies in Equestria.

It was time for the end to become the new beginning.

Chapter Forty Nine - Home of the Wendigo

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

HOME OF THE WENDIGO

The gulls had left them, the last of the shrieking, feathered pests turning back for land a few minutes earlier. Now it was the familiar steady climb up through the cloud layer and then levelling out to settle beneath the pure blue sky and the sunshine above. Stock rolled his shoulders and stretched his legs, he’d been sleeping in the brig ever since the Captain had turfed him out of her cabin. This morning she hadn’t spoken to him once, except to give him orders. He’d half expected her to give him a few ‘stripes’ across his back for the way he’d spoken to her, and really, he wished she had. Anything was better than this.

“Mister Pepper, watch your heading when we breach, the winds can take us off course in these parts.”

“Aye, aye Master Stock.”

The gold coated pony with the black patches across his back was one of the boys from the Wind Wraith’s previous crew. All the bad seeds had been uprooted and sent on their way at the port, albeit with their last pay packet. The bilge rats may have been scum but they didn’t want any bad feeling coming back to bite them at a later date, and a pocket full of bits was a good way to soothe any ruffled feathers. Surprisingly though, most of the ship’s crew had turned out to be good ponies at heart, including the colourful ‘condiment twins’ as they were jokingly known. They were quite an enigmatic pair: Salt and Pepper, one gold on black, the other black on gold, brother and sister too. Stock thought he’d had one too many to drink the first time he’d seen them. Still, the ship liked them and they were damned good at the helm, especially Pepper - he had a way of squeezing a few extra knots out of the old vessel and making her sing, quite literally. He shook his mane; there was something distinctly strange about helmsponies, not to mention it was going to be a nightmare if these two teamed up with the Revenge’s crew – two ‘Salt’s’? Goddess, what a thought!

White clouds flowed thickly across the deck like fog, whipping silently past the crew. They’d seen it countless times before, and it never lost its excitement and the sense of anticipation. Moments later, brilliant blue sky and warm sunshine flood the sky galleon, one of the last of the Amethyst Fleet, the Wind Wraith. Pepper winked at Stock,

“Never gets old, eh, Master Stock?”

Stock shook his head, looking up at the sun and enjoying the feeling of warmth against his muzzle,

“No. It never does.”

The rest of the day passed without incident, with nothing more than clouds and the odd dragon this high up. Fortunately those large reptilian creatures usually kept a healthy distance. Stock marvelled at the speed of the Wind Wraith, the way she slid effortlessly through the sky as a salmon swims through a river. He liked the vessel - she had a certain charm which seeped into you as you got to know her. At first, he’d seen her as little more than a terrified animal, like a cornered and frightened cat that was likely to scratch you if you tried reaching out to it. He’d been wrong though, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it. Although the reputation of the Wind Wraith had never been exactly favourable to say the least, it did come with certain advantages. Her sleek black hull and ornate carvings made her look like what she was; fast…and deadly. She was easily distinguishable from the other flying ships and her late captain’s reputation meant that many avoided her. Piracy was still relatively uncommon around Equestria and the Wind Wraith had a natural protection from it, but sooner or later, even a sky galleon had to land. Stock, having once been aboard a vessel that had been attacked by pirates, always prepared for the worst. Passing out orders, the catapults were brought up on deck and slotted into their cradles, together with a little ‘something’ that the griffins had kindly gifted them with. It was…strange.

Longus, the First Mate, stared at the device scratching her head,

“I’ve never seen its like, Master Stock. Any ideas on what it does?”

He hadn’t. It was a long brass tube like thing on some sort of swivel mount. The box it came in contained a number of waxed card packages, with yet more paper and string parcels of ‘something’…he shook his mane, perplexed.

“It came with instructions apparently.” Stock replied peering at the sheath of notes that had been tucked underneath the brass tube, “Anypony here read griffin?”

There was a general shaking of heads.

“Guess that’s that then.” Stock shrugged, “Chuck a sheet over it lads and we’ll leave it until we find somepony who can translate.”

One of the crew tapped him on the shoulder, “Master Stock? Captain’s calling you.”

Grumbling under his breath the big stallion nodded and headed aft where the green pegasus mare was standing on the quarterdeck, peering down at him.

“Yes, Captain?”

“All in order, Master Stock?” Cyclone asked

“Aye, Captain. We’re making good headway, should be arriving some time tomorrow afternoon.” Stock stood respectfully waiting for her reply. Instead, the Captain just nodded at him and return to looking at her map - the same map she’d been staring at virtually every single time he wanted to speak to her. He hadn’t the heart to tell her she was holding the stupid thing upside down.

As the day wore on, the Wind Wraith began to sing. Her song was one of the sky, the clouds beneath her keel, and freedom, a song that calmed the soul and made you feel at peace with the world. Stock smiled to himself. Several of the crew had commented on the amazing change in the ship since Aeon had been ‘removed’ as Captain. ‘And not before time either’, he thought gruffly, re-tying one of the rope lines. Honestly, he’d have to have words with some of these deckhooves - sloppy rope work would come back and bite them on the arse if gales hit. He lifted his muzzle, scenting the air…they were close to the mountains now, and the way the old girl was slipping through the sky meant they would likely be coming in to dock sooner rather than later. Still, they would wait until morning; there was no way on Celestia’s green earth he was going to trust some of this lot with docking at night with the wild gusts they often encountered around here. One day, there’d even been that…’thing’ - the flying beast that had the crew cowering and even the ship trembling fearfully. Whatever it was, the frightful thing had been scared off by the denizens of the fortress. He didn’t particularly care for them either, but at least they paid well, and that was what was important. Stock yawned; it was getting towards time to change the crew for the evening and he intended to go down and get an early bed - even if it was in the brig.

The ship’s bell sounded and the rested crew heaved themselves up onto the deck. Orders were passed, jokes made, good natured jibes exchanged…the usual background chatter of a ship’s crew at work. Stock wandered over to the water barrel and swilled his face. Goddesses that was better! Wiping his muzzle the large stallion gave himself a shake and made for the hatchway, pausing to give his cutie mark a scratch. It had been doing that a lot lately, ever since he’d had that falling out with Cyclone. Usually when she…

“Oh!”

A lantern holding Cyclone stood in front of him, looking startled,

“I…I didn’t see you there.”

“No, Captain.” Stock said quietly, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get in your way.”

He moved to walk past her but a hoof reached out and stopped him, “I’d like to see you…in my cabin.” She paused, “Unless you need to get away, I know you’ve been on duty most of the day and…”

“-No Captain, it’s fine.” He nodded to her and waited for the green mare to pass him and head into her cabin.

It was a little chilly inside today, but not too bad. Braziers were strictly controlled on board, and fire crystals the usual order of the day. This particular one, was one of the items they’d traded for with the Llamalian merchant. Stock could feel his eye twitching just looking at the thing.

“Rum?” The Captain asked politely, “I know it’s your preferred tipple.”

Stock nodded and gratefully took the beaker from Cyclone. She looked…nervous,

“Stock, I…look, this isn’t easy for me you know.”

He sat and waited for her to continue.

“Look, I…” Cyclone stomped a hoof, “Damn it, Stock, don’t just stand there like a statue! Say something?”

“Like what?” he asked.

The Captain’s ear twitched, “I don’t bloody know, do I? Something, anything!”

The brown stallion took a breath. She was impossible to deal with when she was like this, and retreat was usually the best option. He nodded his head,

“I’m sorry, Captain, if you’ll excuse me I am rather tired and…”

A mint green leg shot out and stopped an inch from his face, quivering. Cyclone’s expression was one of a mixture of rage, confusion and anguish,

“Stock! Please…please, I…I need you…”

That did it. The big male put down his beaker and sank to his haunches, brushing Cyclone’s mane from her eyes,

“What’s up, love? I hate seeing you like this.”

Cyclone hung her head, tears rolling down her face and landing on the decking,

“It’s this, us…I don’t like fighting with you - I didn’t want to! Now, I don’t know what to do to make things right! I’m not Gretel, she always seems to know what to do, and…and i’m frightened I’m losing you...”

Stock pulled her into an embrace, kissing her forehead as he held her,

“You’re the strongest mare I know, and the one I love with all my heart. I know you’re not Gretel, but you run a damned good ship, a happy ship, and if you’re not sure what to do sometimes or you just want to discuss something, speak to me or Windy. Between us, we’ll work it out…I know we will.”

Cyclone pushed into him, biting his ear and pulling at his neck until he all but collapsed onto her. Trying to avoid landing on the pegasus mare, Stock had to watch where he was putting his hooves as her assault on him continued. Eventually, he gently put a hoof on her chest,b

“Something’s up, isn’t it?” he asked.

“No!” Cyclone grabbed his foreleg and clung to it as if it were her last hope of salvation, “No…I…” she closed her eyes and sighed. “Yes. There’s something I need to say.”

Stock smiled and kissed her on the muzzle. He may not always know what it was, but he could always tell when something was bothering her. Cyclone was an open book, the polar opposite of him in many ways. Still, he loved her, and as infuriating as she could be, he’d listen quietly and be there for her.

“You know, I’ve been a bit…distracted lately?” She said quietly. Stock nodded. “Well, I’ve been feeling a bit off colour, and…it’s not really going away.”

Stock’s eyes went wide and he lifted Cyclone’s head, looking into her eyes. She looked tired certainly, and there were dark patches under her eyes, but she didn’t look much different from usual. He shook his head,

“You need to see the ship’s surgeon, we’ll go now.”

“Um…no, no you don’t have to.” Cyclone pushed him away and sat by the window, peering out at the clouds scudding by below them, “I’ve just been to see her.”

Stock’s heart leapt, “You’ve seen him? What did he say? Are you alright? What is it?!”

Cyclone smiled wanly, her gaze coming up to meet him,

“I’m pregnant.”

The big stallion felt the room spinning as he lost his hoofing and bumped into the bed before he could catch himself. What the hell was this? What was going on? He gave himself a shake and looked at Cyclone, her big eyes glinting in the moonlight,

“I…I don’t think I…um…heard you, properly.”

Cyclone laughed, “I think you did…Dad.”

Stock’s eyes went wide, “Oh, no…oh…oh no! I…I’m not ready for this! I…what do I do? We need to do something! Oh Goddesses…”

Clucking her tongue, the green mare grabbed Stock’s head in her hooves and kissed him,

“I’ll tell you what we need to do: Stop bloody panicking!” she fixed him with a hard look and bopped him on the nose, “Now, come on, get ready for bed. I’m not having my stallion sleeping in the brig any more.”

“I…no!” The big stallion said in alarm, “Look, you have the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor and…”

“I’m not made of glass, you idiot!” Cyclone sniffed, “Stow that behaviour now, Mister Stock or i’ll have you sleeping in the longboat, understand?”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart. Goddesses, he’d never felt so…so what? Happy? Yes…YES! That was it! He shook his mane and laughed out loud, suddenly prancing around the table and snatched up his rum, knocking it back in one gulp and leaped forward, taking Cyclone up in his big forelegs and hugging her surprisingly gently,

“Goddesses, I love you, my wonderful pegasus. I love you so, so much.”

“I’m glad to hear it!” Cyclone chuckled, “Now put me down you big galoot and come to bed, you’re wearing me out just looking at you.”

Stock gave her a kiss, nuzzling her neck and inhaling her wonderful scent,

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

************************

Morning. Cold, fresh and carrying the distinct hint of ice in the air. Up here, snow wasn’t a problem, not above the clouds, but they would have to descend soon. Stock had already snuck off to speak to the surgeon and get her advice. Splint was a good mare, but he still missed Doc. Maybe it was because she was a…well, a ‘she’, and it made him feel a little awkward talking about things like foals. She didn’t seem phased by it of course, but that just seemed to make him feel all the more foolish for not knowing anything about being a father. He groaned. What did he know about these sorts of things? Every time he tried to fuss over Cyclone he got an earful about being ‘overly protective’. Perhaps he was, but he wasn’t going to risk his love or their foal, and Cyclone had a tendency towards rash actions as it was. More worryingly, she hadn’t been herself at all lately, and the more he thought about it, the more the instances of sudden tiredness, forgetfulness and generally snapping at him began to make sense. This morning for example, she’d only reluctantly agreed to put on a thick cloak after he’d first put on his own. By the Goddesses, he hoped this wouldn’t last!

“The crew are ready, Master Stock.”

Stock nodded to the bosun, “Carry on, Mister Grille.” Leaning over the balustrade he called down to the helm, “Take us in Mister Pepper.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.”

“Hmph.” Cyclone shook her head, pulling the cloak in around herself, “I bet they’d prefer it if you were the…”

“-Stop!” Stock tapped her on the shoulder surreptitiously, keeping his voice low, “Don’t, love. You know they respect you, and they only say ‘Cap’n’ because you’re here - it’s ship’s regulation.”

“I know that!” the mare hissed back, “it’s just…oh, just ignore me, my mood’s all to hell. Splint said this would last a while yet, and then things should calm down.” She clucked her tongue, “no drinking, no smoking, no…you know.” She furrowed her brow, “It’s your fault you know, you did this to me.”

Stock shrugged, “You could have said no.”

“You know what I mean!” she hissed.

Stock sighed. Sometimes he wished he did, but mostly, he would just let it go over his head. Cyclone’s hormones were all over the place according to Splint, and he was likely to become a punching bag for her more ‘overt’ outbursts for some time to come. Good grief! Even the brig was starting to look like a welcome alternative, especially after she’d near kicked him half to death last night. He’d tried to sneak out when she’d fallen asleep, but she’d caught him in a choke hold and all but strangled the life out of him. Of course, this morning she hadn’t remembered any of it. All he could hope for now was that their foal was born quickly - preferably before she sent ‘dad’ to the afterlife…

A sudden warmth on his ear made him jump, the mare’s voice making him tingle,

“Mmm, still delicious.”

Come to think of it, in the eternal herd at least he’d have a quiet night’s sleep!

Whisps of cloud began to flow over the bow as the Wind Wraith dipped, gently taking them below the sea of white. Stock gave Cyclone a quick hug as they descended,

“Here we go…”

Only seconds later, the wide mountain range was laid out before them in all its eternal majesty, looking for all the world like the icing on a Hearths Warming cake. Come to think of it, this year they’d all but missed the celebrations. With the war, the business with Aeon, not to mention the new ship…it had just sort of passed them by. Still, there was always next year, and then they’d have something to really celebrate. Cyclone had bopped him on the nose more than once already for staring at her tummy, but he just couldn’t help it - was there really something in there? It didn’t seem real. What if it were a unicorn? Or a pegasus! Oh Goddesses, he hoped it wasn’t. If the foal’s mum couldn’t fly with her little one, both of them would be heart broken. But…what about a unicorn? There’d been some on his mum’s side but…

“Celestia’s sun kissed arse…would you look at that. I’ll never get used to this place.”

Cyclone’s words completely derailed Stock’s train of thought. Sure enough, coming up before them like a fairytale castle, was the magnificent structure of the fortress of the four winds, the immense home of Lord Maroc, Lady Arathea and their tribe. Stock shook his head in wonder; as beautiful a place as it was, he hated the thought of being ‘grounded’ to such a place. Give him the sky, the sea, and a steady hoof on the tiller any day of the week – now that was the life for a true free spirited pony. Movement off to starboard caught his eye: spotting their approach, several wendigo had already appeared and were watching them from a respectable distance. Thankfully, many of the crew were used to the nightmarish creatures, but others, Aeon’s old crewponies in particular, were giving them frightened glances. Stock waved to one of the creatures which flew closer than the others,

“Hoy! Herath? Is that you?”

The white coated creature whinnied and, much to the alarm of the crew, swept in to land on the deck. Stock trotted down the steps to the main deck and reached out to shake the newcomer’s hoof,

“Good to see you again, my friend.”

Herath nodded, “And you, Stock. A new ship I see; we were expecting the King Sombra’s Revenge.”

The big stallion shrugged, “A new acquisition, and,” he waved a hoof at Cyclone, “under new management too.”

Herath beat his wings, propelling him high up onto the quarterdeck where he gave landed and gave Cyclone a brief hug,

“Cyclone?” He grinned, “You’re Captain now?”

The mint green mare blushed, “Well, yeah. I am.”

“You look…different somehow.” Herath gave her a sidelong glance, taking in the way she looked at Stock who’d joined them, “Are you two…?”

“I’m going to be a father.” Stock grinned.

With a rush of wings and blue mane, Herath picked up the big brown stallion in a hug and rubbed his mane, laughing,

“I don’t believe it! You two! Bloody hell…” he shook his head, “It’s about time. You know, we used to have a sweepstake to see how long it would take, but we’d pretty much given up on it.”

“A…a sweepstake?!” Cyclone choked, “A bloody sweepstake?!”

“It was just a bit of fun.” Herath said quickly, backing away, “But look, please, be welcome and enjoy your stay with us. The hot baths are…”

“I can’t have one.” Cyclone sniffed with a toss of her mane, “I’ll have to have a shower instead, but you boys go right ahead and enjoy yourselves.”

“I was going to say the temperature can be altered to suit.” Herath finished raising an eyebrow.

“Oh!” Cyclone hung her head, her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, “Oh…um…yeah.”

“Captain?” It was Pepper, “We’re coming up to dock now. Your orders?”

Cyclone nodded to Stock who leaned over the balustrade, “Take us in, Mister Pepper. Bosun, ready on the lines. Make us fast as soon as we dock and once the cargo’s offloaded, have the crew ready for some time ashore.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n!”

That lifted the mood. The interaction between the wendigo and the promise of hot baths and good food at the fortress had the crew moving like never before. Stock liked it here - it always seemed to have a good feel to it, a sort of vibrancy and liveliness that lifted his spirits. Not least of course, because the fortress’s Lord and Lady were excellent hosts, but they were also damned good customers. This time, the Wind Wraith’s chest’s would be brimming with bits, and they may even be able to get her that new lick of paint she’d been enquiring about. Whether the wendigo had several barrels of it remained to be seen, but black somehow didn’t seem to be part of the colour palette here.

Herath stayed with them until the ship began to pull up alongside the dock while Stock peered over the side, overseeing the operation. It never failed to amaze him just how spacious the dock actually was, especially considering there’d never been more than one ship moored here whenever he’d traded with the wendigo in the past - but then this place had been build back in the days of the Crystal Empire. Or so the story went. He yawned; Cyclone had cracked him right on the back of the head last night and he was certain he was suffering from borderline concussion. Thankfully, he’d be able to have a good long soak and maybe even a mane trim while ashore. He nodded to himself - now that would be something to look forward to!

Cyclone leaned on the balustrade watching the ship being tied up, smiling at the sense of happiness that thrummed through the deck beneath her. Wind liked it here: the cool mountain air, the incredible scenery - it was a place she remembered with fond memories from a long, long time ago. She was excited about the birth of her Captain’s child too, and had actually been the first one to mention the possibility of her pregnancy. It wasn’t that surprising though, the two of them shared a bond that was nothing if not intimate, and Wind had been so understanding and kind, it had really helped with the fear Cyclone was feeling deep down inside. At the moment her mind was a battlefield of emotions; fear, excitement, dread, anticipation, all of them warring for supremacy. All that however, would have to take a back seat as the Lord of the fortress has appeared in person to meet them. Fortunately, she’d been here enough times to learn how to tell them apart in their wendigo forms, and the enigmatic Lord Maroc, for reasons of his own, would always greet official visitors like this. The first time she’d been here it had terrified her, that was until Gretel explained it was the wendigo way of showing they had nothing to hide, a sort of ‘cards on the table’ gesture. Still, as blood chilling as they appeared, they were impressive beings who, she lamented, could fly too.

“Well this is a surprise!” Lord Maroc said, trotting aboard and kissing Cyclone’s hoof in greeting, “I was expecting Captain Gretel and the Revenge, and instead I have a new Captain and a new ship to welcome. Truly a wonderful day!”

“My Lord,” Cyclone curtsied, “Please, be welcome aboard our vessel.”

“Indeed!” Maroc gave himself a shake and allowed the magic within him to drain away. Cyclone and the crew watched in amazement as his coat changed from white to grey, his wings seeming to melt back into his back as his body became more pony like before their very eyes. The Lord grinned, his eyes sparkling with genuine interest, “Come on, let’s have a look round!”

The ponies aboard kept a respectable distance, but it was hard not to notice the inquisitive glances and stares that the wendigo was receiving as Maroc examined the Wind Wraith and marvelled at her. He was fascinated by her, marvelling at the ancient vessel and even spoke with her for a while. Cyclone felt a tinge of jealousy at that, especially as Wind seemed to be giggling like a school foal. She shook her head and wrapped her hoof around Stock’s foreleg for comfort. She just wished she could get her emotions back to normal before she ended up coming apart at the seams. Thankfully, Stock was here in case she made a complete arse of herself in front of the wendigo. Speaking of which…

“My Lord?” A grey mare appeared with two maids in tow. Cyclone recognised her immediately.

“Darling!” Maroc said, trotted over to his wife, “Please, come and meet our new Captain!”

Cyclone curtsied to Arathea who bobbed her head in return,

“New Captain?” the newcomer asked curiously, “I sense a story. You simply must tell me all about it over tea and cakes.” Arathea smiled happily, “I’ll have everything made ready for you after you’ve had a chance to freshen up after your journey and we can have a nice chat.” Movement by her hind legs drew Cyclone’s eye. The wendigo mare noticed it too and chuckled, looking back at the source of her interest, “Come on now, don’t be shy, come and say hello.”

A tiny grey muzzle with big round yellow eyes appeared, half hidden behind his mother’s legs. The little face looked nervous, yet full of curiosity and made Cyclone’s heart do somersaults; was this…was this what she was going to expect? Such a tiny life, a precious, beautiful little creature! Oh Celestia…he had such tiny hooves! And that little tail - it was adorable! Arathea nudged the foal forward,

“Come now, don’t be rude. This is Cyclone, she’s the Captain of this ship.”

The little foal stepped out, his big eyes as wide as saucers, “H…lo…” he squeaked and jumped back behind his mother, peeking out timidly.

“Hello, little one.” Cyclone smiled down at him, “What’s your name?”

Arathea chuckled, “We named him ‘Vela’, it was his great grandfather’s name.”

“Vela…” Cyclone beamed and unconsciously rubbed her belly. She hadn’t really thought of names, but it was certainly something to think of later, and tea and cakes did sound like a good opportunity to discuss it with another mare. As much as she loved Stock, Wind and the crew, it would be nice to chat with someone outside her ship based family for a change.

“I understand you have some trade goods for us?” Maroc cut in, “Do you girls want to go and have a look? I want to have a chat with Stock about his latest adventures on the high seas and look around this magnificent ship!”

The two mares rolled their eyes in unison, laughing at the behaviour of the stallions. Some foals just never grew up, and maybe it was just as well. Cyclone beckoned the lady of the fortress to follow her into the hold while Maroc…well, he wandered off with Stock to do ‘stallion things’. She smiled; she liked the lord of the fortress, even if perhaps he was just a little eccentric. He was certainly different.

That evening, dinner had been a quiet affair. The Lord and his family, Stock and Cyclone, had sat together in a large conservatory overlooking a frozen waterfall which held a captivating beauty that left Cyclone feeling strangely wistful. The rest of the crew were dining in the main dining hall and no doubt already discovering the delights of the local beers and spirits. Maroc and Stock had subsequently retired to the study where the Ship’s Master was currently enjoying a cigar - much to the irritation of his Captain who had grumbled about it being ‘bad for the baby’. He suspected it was more likely that she would have like one too. He grinned knowingly - that would teach her for kicking him all night! Goddess damn it, he thought to himself rubbing his back, he could still feel it now.

Maroc was a good listener, despite Stock’s limited conversational skills; he certainly wouldn’t describe himself as any sort of wordsmith - far from it in fact. He was the sort who preferred to sit quietly and listen, but tonight, Maroc seemed very interested in the story of how they had acquired they’d Wind Wraith. Stock was careful to avoid certain topics of course, ‘just in case’, despite the delicious spirits being proffered and the excellent cigars. Overall, he felt the most relaxed he had in ages…

“Well, I’m afraid I’ll have to call it a night.” Maroc said yawning and stretching, “As much as I’d love to chat longer, our nurse won’t be happy with both of Vela’s parents coming back in the small hours.” He tapped the box of cigars, “Good?”

Stock nodded, “Very. I don’t have much of a chance on board. Naked flames are restricted, and smoking is, well…” he scrubbed his mane.

“You don’t have to tell me!” Maroc laughed, “Arathea doesn’t like me smoking either, but everything in moderation I say. Besides, they have an extra sense you know.” He tapped his head, “They know when you’ve done something they disapprove of.”

The door opened and the two mares entered.

“Dear? Our friends are worn out, and we’ll need to see to Girta too. We can’t leave the poor girl up all night you know.” Arathea gave her husband a look of disapproval, “And I think you’ve had enough of those things tonight too!”

Maroc winked at Stock, “See?”

Stock nodded with a quiet smile, “Well, back to the ship for us then. Could somepony give us directions, Lord Maroc, I’m afraid I’ve lost track of how to get back.”

“Nonsense!” Maroc laughed, shaking his head, “You and your good lady can have our guest rooms for the duration of your stay.” He clucked his tongue, “Staying in a cabin indeed! Make hay whilst the sun shines I say.” He pulled a braided rope by the fireplace and in seconds a maid appeared in the doorway,

“My Lord?”

“Ah! Chutney my dear! Would you mind showing our intrepid explorers to their room?”

The orange coated maid curtsied, and after exchanging pleasantries, Cyclone and Stock found themselves following her down yet another of the expansive corridors.
Stock could barely keep his eyes open and let out a large yawn as they walked. Goddesses, he could just curl up there and then.

“You stink of cigars.” Cyclone complained, “And booze.”

“Jealous?” the big stallion grinned in reply.

“You’re bloody right I am!” the Captain sniffed, “I could just go for one too, but…” she shook her head, “I don’t know, I just keep getting odd feelings all the time.”

Stock frowned, “Odd feelings?”

“Mmm” Cyclone nodded quietly, “Like I want a salt lick, you know? A really, REALLY big salt lick. Honestly, when Arathea was passing me these gorgeous little cakes all I could think of was that I had to have salt. Bloody hell, Stock, I feel like I want to roll in the bloody stuff. What the hell’s wrong with me? Am I going crazy?”

He smirked, “No more than usual.”

“Cheeky sod” she snapped, but couldn’t help be chuckle under her breath.

The maid cleared her throat, “Pardon me ma’am, but the kitchen’s open. If you like, I could fetch you some salt. We have recently had a delivery of some particularly fine Saddle Arabian Pink which is…”

“-Oh yes!” Cyclone gasped jumping in, “Would you mind? Please?”

The maid nodded pleasantly, “Of course, ma’am.”

Stock rolled his eyes. He didn’t mind salt licks, but that stuff could have a funny effect on a pony if they had too much,

“Love? Look, be careful with that stuff. Too much salt could be bad for the two of you.”

Cyclone clucked her tongue, “Aye, aye Master Stock.” She snapped off a mock salute and grumbled to herself. All Stock could pick up was words like ‘bossy’ and ‘killjoy’. He sighed. If this was anything to go by, the rest of the pregnancy was no doubt going to be ‘interesting’ to say the least.

The room they were given was everything they could have expected, and more, much, much more. It had its own bathroom, running water and even a four poster bed. Stock had never seen anything like it in his life and he’d been to some amazing places in his time - but…running water! He kept pulling the lever, which allowed a controlled amount of steaming water into the crystal basin below. Pulling the other lever allowed a similar amount of cold water into the same basin. Pressing the lever on the floor opened a brass flap allowing the basin to drain. He shook his head in wonder, trying it over and over again. It had to be magic, it must be! He reached up and rubbed his head. What it must be to have magic on call that could conjure such works as this. He washed his face in the warm soapy water and towelled off.

“What are you looking so thoughtful about?” Cyclone asked smiling up at him from the bed.

Stock climbed in next to her, settling into the large pillow with a sigh, “About our foal.” The big stallion smiled, “I’d like a unicorn.”

“A unicorn!” Cyclone barked, “Why?!”

Stock sniffed, “Why not? Think of the things he could do with that magic.”

“Magic!” The green mare laughed, “Anyway, what makes you think we’ll have a boy?”

Stock shrugged, “I don’t know, and I’d love a girl just as much. But…well, I just want a unicorn, that’s all.”

Cyclone shook her head and stared up at the ceiling, “I’ll love our foal whatever they are. Besides, what if we have a pegasus?”

“Then so much the better.” Stock rumbled, gently kissing Cyclone on the nose, “I’ve got a thing for pegasi.”

The green mare rubbed her belly happily, “So I noticed.”

Stock leaned towards her and snuffed her neck, “You can’t blame me, you smell so wonderful…”

Cyclone closed her eyes, a wistful expression crossing her face, “Love, we can’t…”

“I know,” Stock said nuzzling her, “but we can still cuddle, can’t we?”

Cyclone giggled, reaching for his ear and giving it a light nibble, “Oh, I think I can manage that.”

*****************************

It must have been just before dawn, that time when everything was silent and still. There were no birds singing here in the mountains, only the background sound of the wind as it blew past the window. Stock groaned, rubbing his sore back as he quietly slipped out from under the covers. Goddesses, that bed! It was soft - too soft for him, and to make matters worse, Cyclone had booted him full in the spine during the few minutes he’d actually managed to catch some sleep. Thankfully he’d managed to escape the death grip she usually had him in, probably due to the immense size of the bed, and had made a break for freedom. Snuggling into one of the gigantic pillows, Cyclone moaned quietly in her sleep, while Stock headed for the door. He’d thought about sleeping on the floor, but he was so bloody uncomfortable now, all he could think of about was going for a pee and a wash. He’d no doubt wake her up if he tried to do that in the guest room, so out into the corridors it was; with any luck he’d bump into one of the staff who would show him the way.

The fortress, even at night, was magnificent, if a little ‘cold’ looking with all that ice like architecture. Stock touched the walls; they didn’t feel icy, just ‘cool’. Weird. He shrugged and walked on - there had to be a bathroom somewhere along here somewhere, but every time he found a door it was…He sighed; he hadn’t even opened them. Walking brazenly into somepony’s room at this time of the morning was not only rude, but quite likely to anger them too, and so, in typical Stock fashion, he’d just walked on hoping to eventually find something that looked like a bathroom. The problem however, was that things ‘down below’ were starting to become critical, and if he didn’t find somewhere soon…

“Good morning sir.”

The unicorn maid bobbed her head and walked by, pushing a trolley laden with cleaning equipment.

Stock nodded in reply, “Oh, hello miss.” Suddenly he span round, “Excuse me, um, you couldn’t direct me to a bathroom could you please?”

The maid smiled, “Of course, sir.”

Thank the Goddesses! Stock thanked the mare politely with no small sense of relief, watching her disappear around the corner of the corridor before all but kicking the stall door open – and not a moment too soon. All that rich food he’d eaten earlier, not to mention the alcohol, had gone through him like a racing chariot. He let out a loud sigh of relief, staring at the ornate tiles and small dried flower arrangements. Good grief, had Arathea been at work in here too? It wouldn’t surprise him in the least - the mare was unstoppable, even with a foal. He scratched his mane and yawned; how long had it been since he’d been here last? It was only a few months wasn’t it? He couldn’t remember seeing a foal then, but in fairness, he hadn’t really been interested in them at the time. Maybe wendigo foals grew faster than normal ponies? Who could say? Stock sighed; His whole world outlook was changing, his narrow view of life and his expectations had been turned completely on their head. ‘How things change’, he wondered to himself.

A door opened and a waft of warm scented air tickled his nose. Was somepony having a shower? Maybe a bath? He finished up and opened the stall door,

“Hello?”

A grey pony appeared,

“Oh, good morning! Another early bird I see.”

Stock nodded, washing his hooves in the sink, “Aye. I’m sorry, but you don’t know where a pony can get a hot shower or a bath around here do you?” he asked hopefully.

“Sure,” the unicorn replied, “through there.” He motioned to the door behind him, “Showers and soap on your left, towels on the right, straight on for the bath. Water’s just nice too.”

Nodding his thanks, the brown stallion went to open the door, when the unicorn cleared his throat noisily behind him,

“Interesting to see another earth pony on the team here, you’re only the second one I’ve met since I moved in.” He held out a hoof, “Starswirl’s the name, Mister…?”

“Stock, just Stock, please.” The brown stallion replied, “It’s nice to meet you, Starswirl, but i’m only visiting.”

“Visiting?” the unicorn said furrowing his brow.

“Mmm,” Stock was beginning to feel twitchy about getting that shower, “I came in with the Wind Wraith yesterday.”

“Wind Wraith?” the grey stallion scratched his chin a moment, “A sky galleon?”

“Aye, she’s tied up at the dock and…”

The unicorn’s eyes went wide with excitement, “How long are you here for? I simply must see it!”

Stock felt like face hoofing. Not this again! What was it with these bloody unicorns? He smiled politely, “We’ll be leaving in a day or so, but you can come and have a look round tomorrow if you like. Just ask for me at the dock, one of the crew will know where I am.”

“Wonderful!” Starswirl grinned, “Now then, I’m holding you up - you go and get our bath and I’ll see you in a few hours.” With a flourish, the chirpy unicorn trotted out of the bathroom leaving a bemused Stock in his wake.

“’A few hours’” He muttered sourly, walking through into the shower.

The hot water was wonderful, and invigorating; a good soaping and scrub made all the difference in the world. Something was tickling at his mind though…’a few hours’…

Stock groaned, “Oh Celestia’s arse…”. ‘Tomorrow’ was more like ‘today’ in the unicorn’s mind, and he was probably right too. He’d completely lost track of time! Looking out of the small window high up the wall, the sky was just beginning to lighten. Stock shook his head, letting the hot water sluice the soap off his face. All he wanted was a nights sleep! Just one! Still, there was at least the bath, so maybe a good soak in there would do the trick, and, if there was a place in there that he could get his head down for an hour or two, so much the better.

In short order he was slipping into the deep, floral scentede water. In contrast to the shower, the bath was thoroughly warming and soothed his aches away. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, listening to the way the water lapped at sides of the huge bath and the way the delicate scent of wild flowers tickled his nose. Stock closed his eyes and felt his cares floating away, like the Wind Wraith on a gentle tide. It didn’t get better than this…

“Stock?”

The brown stallion groaned. One of the bloody crew had found him, and at this time of the morning too! Wasn’t there any blasted respite?

“What is it?” he rumbled.

“It is you, isn’t it! Good Goddesses, Starswirl said there was a sky galleon here and he’d spoken to a pony who sounded just like you!”

In a fountain of water, Stock got to his hooves and stared up at the white unicorn standing next to an equally familiar looking black earth stallion. It couldn’t be them, could it? He blinked and rubbed his eyes, still a little woozy from the bath water,

“Chalky? Bracken?” He wasn’t seeing things after all, “What in Equestria are you two doing here? Is the Revenge here?”

“No.” Chalk glanced at his friend, “It’s a long story, but if you’re up for an early breakfast, Iris has got tea and muffins.”

Stock pulled himself out of the bath and over to the towels. He’d been in far too long and must have nodded off - his mane and tail were a crinkled mess.

“Let’s go back to my room eh?” he said with a shake, “If I don’t get back soon, Cyclone will have my guts for garters.”

“Sure,” Chalk replied, “where are staying?”

“Um…the guest rooms?”

Bracken nodded, “I’ve an idea where they are. Chalky, do you want to let Iris know where we are?”

The white unicorn trotted off, leaving Bracken and Stock to walk back to the guest suite. On the way, Bracken gave the big stallion a quick overview of their situation. It wasn’t good - Cyclone would have to know about this and see what, if anything, they were going to do about it. As it turned out, she was less than impressed…

“You did WHAT?!”

Chalk cringed back defensively, “But he’s my friend! I couldn’t just leave him to go into the army alone and…”

“-And you left Gretel behind?” Cyclone’s eyes blazed, “Your friend runs off ‘to forget’ or some such crap, and you just throw the mare you love aside just like that do you?”

“It wasn’t like that!” Chalk protested, “She understands and…”

“What a load of bollocks.” Cyclone snapped, “She said that because she loves you, and if you gave the slightest flying buck about her you would have realised that too. Just how thoughtless and irresponsible can you be, Chalk Dust?” She advanced on him, her ears twitching angrily, “I know my friend and I know what she’ll be going through.” She jabbed the beleaguered unicorn in the chest with her hoof, “If you gave a damn about her, you’d be doing everything you could to get back to her and beg her to forgive your mind staggering stupidity!”

Chalk’s ears flopped and he hung his head in shame. He didn’t know what to say. Was she right? Had he simply…abandoned her? He thought back to the way she’d looked at him, her eyes glistening with tears while he ran off to follow his friend to…to what? Goddesses forgive him…what had he done? The pit of despair was right in front of him, its dark yawning maw pulling him in, and we went willingly, unresisting into its depths. He couldn’t hear any more - he didn’t want to, he didn’t need to. Cyclone had told him what he’d known all along and simply chose to ignore: he’d abandoned the one love he’d had in this world. He’d…left her…

Bracken was taking a verbal beating as well, and even Stock couldn’t stop it. Cyclone was in full flow, tearing into all of them with the fury of her namesake. Only the merciful arrival of breakfast and another grey pony distracted her enough for the beleaguered males to have some respite.

“Good morning! Have I missed anything exciting?” Starswirl swept in and snatched a muffin from the plate with his magic, “You must be Captain Cyclone. A real pleasure to meet you!” He shook th Captain’s hoof vigorously before nodding to the plate beside him, “Muffin? I’d recommend the blueberry jam, it’s simply divine!”

Cyclone stood in shocked silence and looked at the muffin just as a wave of nausea hit her. With a gasp, she charged from the room and into the bathroom. Behind her, the grey pony shrugged,

“I didn’t think it was that bad…” he muttered wolfing down the last of his muffin, “Better with tea though.”

Stock looked over at Chalk who was looking for all the world like he wanted to leap out of the window, while Bracken, who didn’t look much better, was trying to console him. He face hoofed. That bloody pegasus! He knew she’d be angry, but she’d ripped into them when they were already in a bad situation, and it didn’t look like it was going to get better anytime soon. From what he’d been able to determine, Bracken was being hunted by the Legion and the fortress was keeping him here for when they arrived; he sure as hell wanted to be away from here before that happened. As for Chalk, he was a package deal with Bracken, but Starswirl…now he was a different kettle of fish. Stock watched the peculiar fellow stuffing more of the butter and jam soaked treats into his mouth and scratched his chin in thought. The Princess wanted him, did she? And he had knowledge of some sort of explosive device that, if kept out of the hooves of the Legion, could help sway the conflict in favour of the Celestians. He grinned to himself. The scruffy looking grey unicorn was a potential gold mine.

“Starswirl?” he asked, “Would you mind stopping here with the boys? I’m going to have a chat with the Captain and see if we can get you that guided tour of the Wind Wraith this morning.”

The grey stallion clopped his hooves together excitedly, “Wonderful, Master Stock! Please do!”

Stock nodded and trotted out of the room to deal with the poorly Captain.

Meanwhile, Chalk had huddled himself up into a ball, hiding his face in shame. Bracken was talking to him, but he barely heard a word of it, so wrapped up as he was in his own world of personal misery. Bracken had seen him like this before: when he was frightened and alone, he would do this, but this time it was different, this was time it was…worse. Cyclone’s words had hit home harder than he’d expected. Deep down, his friend was probably wracked with guilt at leaving Gretel behind and, worst of all, he’d done it to stay with him, his friend. Bracken felt terrible, and the mint green mare had blamed him too for not having ‘had the balls’ to put his hoof down and stop Chalk following him. Goddess almighty, what a mess.

The door to the bathroom opened and Bracken closed his eyes expecting yet another tirade from the angry mare. He took a breath; if she started again, just one more bloody word and he’d tell her where to…

“Bracken?” The mare’s voice was softer than earlier, kinder, “Would you go with Starswirl and bring his things back here please? Quickly.”

“Er, sure.” Bracken looked surprised, but Starswirl’s ears had perked up and he was already out the door quick as a flash. All too happy to get away, Bracken hurried after Starswirl. This time, Chalk was on his own.

“Chalky?” Cyclone leaned down and stroked the white unicorn’s golden mane. He quivered beneath her touch as though she were going to strike him, looking for all world like Vela the first time she’d met him and, horribly, reminding her of her sister after those monsters had... She sighed, “Come on, we’re going home.” Chalk opened one eye and looked up at her in confusion. “You’ve completed your mission and done more than those swine could ever have asked of you.” Cyclone shook her head sorrowfully, “I shouldn’t have shouted at you like that. I’m…I’m sorry.” She looked across at Stock who nodded to her. She gave the white unicorn a gentle nuzzle, “We’ll get you back to Gretel, but we’ll need your help.”

Green eyes peered up at her, flicking to Stock and then back again. Chalk nodded, pulling himself to his hooves,

“Yeah…” his voice was quiet and distant, “Sure.”

It was still barely light outside when the party reached the Wind Wraith. Stock noticed the distinct absence of fortress guards, but then, there usually was. After all, who would attack a fortress half way up a mountain full of wendigo? For that matter, how? Beside him, Starswirl’s eyes reminded him of the first time Strata came aboard the Revenge. It had to be some sort of unicorn thing, but at least the crew had come to accept them on board, even if a few of the older hooves were still a little wary. With Starswirl though, it was hard to form any sort of opinion on him due to the constant verbal, physical and mental assault the grey creature subjected you to whenever you opened your mouth. For that matter, even standing near the excitable unicorn was enough to make your brain hurt. He just never stopped! Motioning towards the main deck hatch, Stock gave the mage his best smile,

“Come below, Starswirl. I’ll show you the hold and the steering gear.”

He didn’t take much persuasion. The wizard clopped his hooves together in excitement,

“Ooh! Yes!”

His excited charge already disappearing below decks, Stock nodded to Grille and Longus who quickly and quietly began moving the crew to their positions. Pepper was already stretching his forelegs and readying the ships navigational equipment while his sister, Salt was standing by on the bow line. Chalk and Cyclone reached the deck and waved to Bracken to hurry up,

“Brack! Come on, for Celestia’s sake, shift your arse!”

The black earth pony stopped and look up at them, an impassive look on his face. Slowly, he shook his head,

“I’m not going Chalky. Not this time.”

In a flurry Chalk ran back down the gangplank, “What the hell are you talking about? Not this again!” He reached out for his friend, “No way - I’m not leaving you behind!”

Bracken slapped Chalk’s hoof away, “Damn it Chalky, shut up will you. It’s not about you, it’s about me; I don’t want to go with you. I’ve got my reasons and that’s that, just…just go. Please.”

“Bollocks to that!” Chalk spat, “I’m not leaving my best friend behind and…”

Bracken grabbed him suddenly, his eyes narrowing, “Now you listen to me! You are my friend, you always have been and you always will be, but this is something I have to do…alone. Goddess willing, I’ll see you again, but you can’t be a part of this Chalky. Please, try and understand.”

“I can’t understand if I don’t know what it is!” Chalk was all but hopping from one hoof to another, “No! Look Brack, I…”

Bracken winced as his friend crumpled to the ground, two crewponies quickly lifting his unconscious body between them as Cyclone appeared, putting away the belaying pin,

“Bracken, are you sure you want to do this?” The green mare gave her mane a shake, “I don’t know what’s going on, and I know you’ve got your reasons, but I hope to the Goddesses you know what you’re doing.”

Bracken shrugged, “Probably not.” He gave Chalk a hug and kissed him on his forehead with a chuckle, “Farewell…brother.”

Cyclone’s heart leaped in her chest. This felt…bad, really bad. There was a bond between these two - one that she’d criticised and felt awful for doing, especially now. She squeezed her eyes shut a moment against the wave of emotion that surged through her and turned to follow the others back up the gangplank.

A voice behind her gave her pause,

“Cyclone?”

She looked back.

“Look after him. Please.”

The black stallion’s slate grey eyes were full of love for his friend. Even as he spoke to Cyclone, his gaze never left his friend until he disappeared onto the deck of the ship. The pegasus nodded,

“I will, Bracken. I promise you that.”

Bracken smiled, “Your ship’s waiting for you, Captain.”

Cyclone hurried back up the gangplank, pausing for only a heartbeat to glance back at the stallion watching them go. She had a feeling, a feeling that…She shook her mane. Melancholy thoughts were not for now: now was a time for action.

“Cast off the lines. Make sail and get us the hell out of here.” She clopped the oddly coloured helmspony on the shoulder, “Mister Pepper, its your time to shine.”

“Aye, aye Cap’n.”

On deck, the ship was a hive of activity and the Wind Wraith quickly began to pull away from the dock. Chalk felt the movement beneath him, coming to his senses and gradually getting a grasp of the situation. His head ached where they’d struck him, but…where was Bracken? BRACKEN! He made a lunge for the gangplank, but it was too late. Chalk stared over the side of the ship at his friend who was just stood there like a statue, stood…watching him leave.

He opened his mouth to call out but stopped. Somehow he knew, he knew this day would come - the day they would be parted. He closed his eyes and sighed; his friend would get this…whatever it was, off his chest and then he’d meet up with him again. Chalk shook his head and sniffed away a stray tear,

“Bloody earth ponies.”

He looked up and saw the Captain smiling down at him from the balustrade. Cyclone wasn’t so bad, but she was no Gretel. Giving himself a shake he headed for the steps up to the quarterdeck. High above them, the wind caught the mainsails and began to fill them out, the ship responding beneath them like a salmon slipping through a river. She was quick, quicker than the Revenge, and she felt different too…older. He ran his hoof over the railing and smiled, despite the hole he felt in his heart. He would see Bracken again…one day.

On the dock, the black stallion watched the ship disappearing into the distance, his heart aching. Was he doing the right thing? He shook his mane; maybe…maybe. A hoof brushed his shoulder,

“Are you sure you want this, Bracken?”

Bracken laughed, “That’s the question of the hour, isn’t it!” he turned to face Maroc and Arathea, “I guess I’ll be finding out soon enough.” Without another word, he headed back to the fortress’s interior. The two wendigo watched him go.

“Do you think he will be alright, dear?”

Maroc rubbed his cheek against Arathea’s neck, “I hope so, my love.” He sighed quietly, “We’d better go and get things ready.”

Chapter Fifty One - Rat in the Bed

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

RAT IN THE BED

Birds wheeled overhead, their mournful cries calling out to the emptiness that was threatening to swallow her whole. How long had it been now? Weeks? Months? Dear Goddess it felt like it may even have been years. Time had dragged by agonisingly slowly, despite trying to distract herself by keeping busy with the endless shuttling of soldiers and supplies. It was a task, she noted, that she hadn’t originally intended to do, but with Chalk away fighting for the Celestian army and the pay being good, the King Sombra’s Revenge had been kept very busy indeed. But still, she knew that sooner or later the war was going to catch up with her and her crew. The Legion were, by all accounts, taking a beating but they were still a relatively large and cohesive force whereas Celestia’s forces looked like little more than a ragtag assemblage of only the Goddess knew what. Despite all the training, regardless of their motivation, keeping this lot alive in a pitched battle would be like trying to keep a candle lit in a hurricane.

“More tea?”

Gretel shook her head, preferring to watch the gulls up above. It was, as always, a perfect day. Here, everything was perfect: the weather, the lawns, even the host with her perfect tea and cakes. It was normally relaxing, but today it just felt…irritating.

“I find bowls such a therapeautic sport, don’t you?” Amy nibbled on a croissant and waved her hoof towards the players on the green, “So simple, so unhurried.” She looked over at the red mare, “You enquired at the castle, then?”

She had. Gretel felt like screaming in rage and fury at the whole situation. Those…those liars! They’d told her Chalk and Bracken been sent to a quiet location and would be back soon. That had placated her for a few days, maybe even a few weeks, but as those weeks turned to months with no word, she’d begun to fear the worst. That was when she’d asked her crew to start making discreet enquiries with soldiers who’d served with them. A generous round of wheat beers and spirits had loosened enough tongues to uncover the awful story of the two being sent off on a suicide mission by an officer they’d fallen afoul of. She even had a name: Shallow Fry. She’d shallow fry him alright, the filthy rat. Still, she’d kept her temper, she’d been cool, collected…all the things she didn’t feel like being, and gone to visit General Dray and have them recalled. She huffed loudly to herself; she may aswell have tried to see the almighty Celestia, but naturally, she was always ‘ far too busy’ as well. Damn their eyes! If it wasn’t for the steady source of money and the hope that Chalk could come back at any minute, she would have told them where to shove their damned rebellion and left them to it. What made matters worse in some respects, was that the rest of the crew were not only enjoying working for the Princess, they were almost literally rolling in bits. If she hadn’t had Doc and Amy to talk to she’d have gone completely bonkers ages ago.

“Gretel?”

The red mare gave herself a shake,

“Oh! Sorry, Amy, I was miles away. Yeah, I’m afraid I got the same short shrift i’ve always got.”

The elegant mare sipped her tea with her customary delicate grace, “I’m not surprised. They will be occupied with co-ordinating their forces and a couple of lost ponies won’t feature highly on their list of priorities.”

“After what they’ve done for them? After what they’ve been through?” Gretel felt her face flushing with anger - not at Amy, just…everything!

“Lets say that they agreed to help you.” Amy replied calmly, “What do you think they could do? I don’t think they have the ponies to send out search parties for them, and if they have indeed gone into the mountains, they may have crossed over the border into…”

“-I know!” Gretel interrupted, sitting up suddenly, “I don’t want to think about it.” She shook her mane and got off the sun lounger, “Look, Amy, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be burdening you with my problems. I should go.”

Amy reached across and took her foreleg, “Gretel, please, don’t give into despair. I’m your friend, you can come to me any time you like and spend as much time as you like.” She looked at her sadly, “If it’s meant to be, you will see him again.”

“If it’s mean to be? That’s very fatalistic of you.” Gretel replied.

Amy shrugged, “When you’re a soul bound to a wooden vessel, you have a lot of time to contemplate things.” Her eyes looked distant for a moment, “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s not to hope for things. Love, happiness…” she gave a sarcastic laugh, “Catch them when you can, Gretel, because disappointment and pain are the only real universal constants.”

“Amy…” the Captain gave her a concerned look.

The crystal mare suddenly laughed out loud and lifted her half eaten jam tart, “Screw fate, I say! You go and make your own life and to hell with the rest of them.” She smiled, “Come on now, get yourself back, you have visitors.”

“Visitors?”

“Mmm!” Amy munched down the last of her cake and adjusted her sun hat, “My sister’s come to visit.”

“Your sister?” Gretel’s eyes went wide in realisation, “The Wind Wraith!”

Amy smiled and tapped her gently on the nose, “Indeed. Now, off with you young lady, you have ponies to see”.

A wave of her hoof and Gretel was staring at the wall of her cabin. Entering and leaving the world of the enigmatic vessel was becoming almost second nature, and in a way it worried her all the more. Amy hadn’t said anything, she was nothing if not welcoming, it was just…She sighed, hauling herself off the bed; sometimes she wondered if being there, in that wonderful perfect world was becoming more attractive than the ‘real’ one - in her heart, she already knew the answer. Pulling on her hat and coat, Gretel left her cabin and headed out into the driving rain and overcast sky. At least it wasn’t snowing, but by Luna’s arse it was still bone chillingly cold…and damp. She hated the damp, the way it clung to your clothes and fur, soaking through to your skin. In some ways snow was better; at least you could shake the blasted stuff off.

The crew were all pushing towards the side of the ship, chattering excitedly and gesturing towards the sleek black vessel that was pulling into the berth next to theirs. Gretel climbed up to the quarterdeck and waved to Cyclone who was shouting something, but with the rain it was so muffled as to be unintelligible.

“Sod this.” She muttered and trotted back to the deck and found Strata and Doc milling with the rest of them. Gretel clopped Doc on the backside making him jump in alarm, “Coming?”

The three trotted down the gangplank, and looked up at the majestic image of the Wind Wraith. With her sleek lines and gold trim, she truly was a graceful ship; not as wonderful as her own, naturally, but still, she could admire her, couldn’t she? Up on the deck, the sky galleon’s crew were hard at work while one of their officers shouted down to the dockside workers tying her up to the huge iron bollards. In short order, the gangplank was run out and landed with a heavy thud.

“Ahoy! Permission to come aboard?” Gretel shouted up.

A mint green mare appeared, leaning over the railing, “Only if you’ve cleaned your hooves, I’ve just had the deck done!”

Laughing, the two friends met on the deck of the ship and embraced. Gretel felt her heart swell at the return of friend, and felt as if a weight had been lifted from her.

“It’s been too long, Cyclone.”

“I know, but I’ve just got so much to tell you!” The Wind Wraiths Captain stepped back, her eyes sparkling, “And…” she reached back into her pannier, “a little something for later.”

Gretels eyes went wide, “Oh my Goddess! Is this…? It is! Llamalian black label brandy!” she gave her friend a nuzzle, “We’ll enjoy this later, when we have a catch up. I take it your trading run went well?”

“And then some!” Cyclone smiled, “What a place, though. Llamalia was hotter than Tartarus in summer and…ah, but I’ll keep that for later.” She nodded towards the Captain’s cabin, “I’ll pop it away for now; just let me get my things and we’ll go into town and get something to eat if you fancy.”

“Sure, I know just the place too.” Gretel watched her friend trot off while she looked around the deck, spotting a certain dark brown stallion. He walked over and bobbed his head,

“Captain.”

“C’mere you.” The red coated mare suddenly grabbed him and pulled him into a hug, “Ooh! I’ve missed you!”

Stock huffed out a breath, but returned the hug, “It’s good to see you again too, Captain.” He turned to the others, “Doc, Strata, you been keeping well?”

The blue stallion adjusted his glasses, “Very much so. Just the usual onboard maladies to contend with I’m pleased to say.”

Strata looked up from his notebook, seemingly noticing Stock for the first time, “Oh! Hello, have a nice trip?”

“I’m not sure I’d call it that, but it was profitable.” Stock replied in his usual monotone voice, “We had a close call with some thestrals but other than that, it was fairly plain sailing.”

“Thestrals?” Gretel asked suddenly, “Tangling with the Legion?”

A pair of mint green forelegs draped themselves over Gretel and Stock, “Never mind that, come on, lets go and grab a meal and some damned good brandy. I’ve been itching to open this bottle since we left Llamalia.” Cyclone stopped suddenly and looked over her shoulder, “Damn it! Gretel, I left you a souvenir for you on the bed, would you mind? I seem to have my hooves full.”

Giving her friend a quizzical look, Gretel trotted to the Captain’s cabin and disappeared inside.

“Hey! What about us? Don’t we get anything?” Strata announced, lifting a hoof.

Doc cringed at his friend’s outburst, but fortunately Cyclone seemed to have been expecting this,

“Of course!” she grinned, “And here he comes now.”

Sure enough, a grey unicorn emerged from hatchway, fussing with his ludicrous hat and cloak while pulling at his panniers. The stream of colourful expletives emanating from the stallion made even some of the deckhooves blush. Strata shook his head in confusion,

“I don’t understand? Do I know him?”

“He’s a unicorn adventurer,” Cyclone explained, “one who’s been to a place that you know from your books, but could only dream of going in reality. If you ask him nicely, he may tell you about his adventure.”

“He’s what? He’s…?” Strata’s eyes went wide, “You mean?” With a gasp, he took a tentative step forward and then with an almighty bound, all but threw himself at the startled grey pony.

“That was mean, Cyclone.” Stock rumbled.

The green coated mare chuckled, “Oh, don’t be such a stick in the mud, grumpy.” She turned to Doc, “I’m afraid it’s just a box a rose water treats from Llamalia for you Doc, and this…” she reached forward and kissed him on the muzzle, “is from the three of us.”

Doc blushed, “Three? Oh…” he looked away for a moment, “Wait, are you…?”

She nodded.

Doc smiled, giving her a hug and reached out to shake Stock’s hoof, “Well done, both of you! But ease off on the excitement, and the spirits, Cyclone. Doctors orders!”

“Don’t worry about that!” she chuckled, “Splint’s got me covered.” She gave Stock a nudge, “Have we got the crew shore rota in place?”

“Aye.”

Cyclone nodded to Doc, “Where’s this place Gretel likes to eat then?”

“The Wainwright?” The blue stallion said, “It’s about five minutes walk from here.”

“Excellent! Let’s go then.”

Doc hesitated, “Hang on, what about Gretel?”

“Oh, I think she’ll be busy for a while.” Cyclone smirked, “No sense standing on ceremony.”

Doc gave her a quizzical look, catching instead a glimpse of Stock shaking his head solemnly. He shrugged; it really wasn’t worth arguing with a mare when she had her mind set.

“Come on then everypony,” he said resignedly, “I’ll show the way.”

In the cabin, the lights were out and the shutters closed on the windows. Gretel couldn’t see much more than her hoof in front of her face and wished she hadn’t shut the door now to the unfamiliar room, especially considering who its former owner had been. Clucking her tongue at her skittishness, she trotted up to the shutters and froze halfway. Something had moved in the shadows…rats? It better not be, she hated rats! But…there it was again, a shape, moving in the darkness…and a sound…like a muffled groaning. Gretel’s hackles went up immediately and she instinctively reached for the sword that was hanging on the back of the door in…her…own…cabin. Damn it! She didn’t even have her dagger with her. Shaking slightly, she flicked the catches on the shutters and they fell open with a bang, adding to her already heightened state of alarm. Straining her eyesight, the red mare leaped into the corner of the cabin, reaching for something, anything, she could use as a weapon.

The shape moved and groaned again.

“Don’t…don’t you move!” Gretel hissed, “I’m armed! You little crap house, I’ll…”

She paused. It wasn’t a rat; whatever it was, was on the bed, and it was big too, moving under the blanket. Slowly, carefully, she edged over to it, hooking the edge of the covers with her forehoof and suddenly yanked them away with one rapid movement,

“GOT YOU, YOU…!” she froze, staring down at…”Chalky?”

The bound and gagged unicorn lying on the bed stared up at her with pleading eyes. Deftly, the Captain pulled down the gag. Chalk sputtered and gasped,

“That bloody lunatic! I thought she was kidding when she said she’d…Mmph!”

A pair of lips pressed hard against his, cutting off his words and taking his distress in a completely unexpected direction. Melting in her forelegs, Chalk closed his eyes and felt as if he were drifing away. He was back, he was with her, and despite the pain of being away from his friend, his love for Gretel was as strong as it ever had been. Cyclone had been right, he had been a fool; this…this was where he belonged. Chalk struggled, just wishing he could hold her right now, but he was bound tight and…was that water on his face? His heart cried out…no, it wasn’t water…

“You idiot!” Gretel sobbed, pushing away from him, “You bloody stupid damned idiot!” she thumped him hard in the shoulder, “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? Months, Chalky, bloody months and months with no word from you, not even a letter! And all of sudden, here you are!”

Chalk closed his eyes; he didn’t want to see her cry,

“I’ve been a fool.”

Gretel watched him silently, her anger and confusion suddenly derailed by Chalk’s frank confession. She’d never expected him to…

“I thought I could just run off and protect my friend like he did for me when I was a foal.” He sniffed, “What a naieve idiot! I couldn’t protect him, I couldn’t even protect myself, and all I succeeded in doing was leaving the mare I love behind.” He closed his eyes, a single tear trailing down his muzzle, “I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t.” Gretel said, starting to untie him, “But I’m still here, and now…so are you.”

The final knot came undone and Chalk winced as he moved his legs again. That bloody pegasus had tied him up like a griffin’s game trophy. He tried to stand up, but his legs gave way and he dropped onto the rug.

“Come here you.” Gretel reached down and began rubbing his legs where the bonds had bitten in, “I’m going to wallop the dumb mare when I catch her, she could have tied these a bit looser for goodness sake.”

Chalk lay beneath her, his eyes staring into the darkness. He’d thought about running, about hiding, but it never helped did it? His problems never simply disappeared; they were still there when he opened his eyes. Sometimes…sometimes, taking action was the best method. Hadn’t Gretel shown him that when he’d first met her in the compound? He gave himself a shake.

“Chalky?”

Gretel sat back on her haunches, her eyes wide with surprise as the white unicorn sat up and locked eyes with her. He looked…different somehow.

Chalk took a breath, “Will you marry me?”

“I…” the rest of the words died in Gretel’s mouth, and she hung her head.

Chalk smiled sadly, “Forgive me.” He rose to his hooves and nudged her shoulder with his muzzle as he walked towards the door, “Cyclone and the others will be waiting for you.”

Gretel stared at the floor of her cabin, her tears rolling down and splashing onto the deck. She was still there when the cabin door closed with a click.

Gretel?

She said nothing.

Come to us. Please.

She didn’t want to, she didn’t…no…she didn’t…

Warm forelegs folded around her, gently enclosing her in safety and love.

“Come now, this isn’t the way.”

Gretel opened her eyes, gazing up into the gem like eyes of Amy. She smiled down at her, stroking her mane,

“For such a strong mare, you really are a lost foal when it comes to matters of the heart, my Captain.” She kissed her on the forehead, “But then, strength is only one side of the coin.”

Another voice, different this time, but carrying a hint of timeless age spoke next,

“I always find a nice cup of tea helps.” Gretel looked past Amy and saw another crystalline mare; a beautiful creature of pure white, with a pink mane and tail that glowed with the vibrancy of youth in the warm sunlight. The pegasus mare’s golden eyes glistened as she gave a lilting laugh, “And friends.”