The Master Alchemist

by nocbl2

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Adventure, Dark, Romance
Length: 24251

Zecora and Applebloom, while in the Zebra lands, discover a terrible secret of unimaginable power.

When the relations between the Zebra homeland and Equestria are strained, the Princesses decide to send Zecora as an envoy to negotiate. Conveniently enough, Zecora is pressed by a letter from her mother and her sickness, which can only be cured by a potion grown from specific ingredients. The now older Applebloom (cutie mark included) joins her master to adventure across the land and save the world from a threat unlike any known to ponykind.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-01-19 06:48:59 UTC

Prologue

Prologue

The night air was smooth and flowing down the market square that still buzzed with activity, even in the torrential downpour. Electrical and magical lights shimmered, casting a deep orange glow over the stalls filled with items and foodstuffs of all sort and kin, and as the breeze picked up, smells of soups and noodles and exotic dishes wafted into the nostrils of the zebra. The sharp nose detected sweat, spice, and the scent of a thousand in Brezkirzar's main market. The black and white stripes were shaded by a cloak of black, and if she truly wished it, Zecora could have disappeared without moving more than an inch to her left.

That is, if she wouldn't have bumped Applebloom.

Her red-haired pony companion was similarly dressed, conveniently hiding her many weapons of melee and her cutie mark, a bubbling potion.

The alchemist and her young apprentice shifted through the crowds, silent as the night. Here, in Brezikirzar, species from all over the globe met and traded words, ideas, and, most importantly, goods. The greatest of those was fire spice, a mineral that, in its raw state, was more potent than a sword againts flesh. However, when refined, it became sweet, and was prized everywhere as a delicacy. The problem was, however, that fire spice came from dragons--or rather, anything the dragons burned. It became plain that it was not the easiest thing to obtain.

And so, it was very, very expensive.

Most fire spice came from Equestria, and was sold here, in Brezikirzar, where the material was more valued.  From there, it was exported to other places far around, and so the economies of the Earth shifted.

Recently, however, relations between Equestria and Zebraland had become strained. The caravans that sold their cargo here in Brezkirzar were being more frequently sabotaged by bandits. Of course, Zebraland's governement balmed it all on

Equestria, and had begun denying passage of caravans through the borders until the problem was solved.

And so, fire spice was now very, very, VERY expensive, and the inhabitants of Zebraland were becoming... restless.

Thusly, the rulers of Equestria had searched for a delegation to calm the argument, and Twilight Sparkle had suggested Zecora. Luna had seen the prudence of sending a native to Zebraland that was loyal to Equestria.

The present moment found Zecora looking towards a large building at the center of the city; the town hall. Eyes locked on the structure, Zecora did not notice the black pony in the way. Applebloom was examining the contents of a store, and was surprised to hear the thump of two bodies.

The pony pushed himself onto his thick back legs, and standing on two hooves, he was taller than most around him. A long white mane clouded his face, and the wide brim of his hat (complete with feather) shadowed the rest. Long boots reached half up his legs, and Zecora realized that when he stepped, he could choose whether or not to make sound. Just to complete, she also noticed the dark skin--not black, but rather a deep, dark purple hue.

In that second, the hat shifted, and Zecora rememberd. She remembered this pony-- this...

Voraloxle.

An Unexpected Face

Chapter 1

Voraloxle looked down at Zecora and grinned that sheepish, charming grin. It was warm, but it had an edge to it, and it managed to both comfort you and put you ill at ease all at once.

Stumbling back to her hooves, Zecora wordlessly grabbed him and Applebloom and yanked them into a nearby recess between two buildings.

"Hey! What was tha--" Voraloxle started to complain, but recieved a hoof in the face for his trouble.

Zecora heard Applebloom draw a long knife with a dexterous cartilage and bone hoof.

"Return your weapon to its sheathe, student! Threats to a guest are not prudent," Zecora moved her face closer to Voraloxle as she said this.

"Look, Zecora, I was just coming to see Labba, and--" the purple-black pony explained.

"Too late! Labba does not deal with thieves who cower at the sight of a bandit troop! In any case, I am not here for Labba. Shut up before I put a your neck through a hoop!" Frustration made Zecora recall the last time she had spoken with Vorlaxle

and how he nearly made her break rhyme with his charm. That only made her focus more.

Continuing, Zecora said, "You abandoned me! You just up and left! Not to mention your petty theft!" The rage fueled her words. "Do you even remember that night? I saved your life in that fight!"

"I'm.. I'm sorry. Zecora, for once in my life, I'm really, truly sorry." Voraloxle's guard seemed to drop for just a minute.

"Liar. Who trusts the word of a thief? You should have died in a fire."

With an exhale, Voraloxle turned his head to the side and laid it against a brick wall.

"Fine, then. Yell at me all you want, but I have places to be. Call me anything you want, but never late for dinner." Vorlaxle grinned at his ex.

Zecora laughed inexplicably at that. She hugged the pony and he returned the hug, and both of them ended up giggling crazily.

Applebloom was unsurprisingly offset, and tilted her head quizically at a pony and zebra who had just been at each others throats but were now laughing--together! The yellow pony chalked it up to her own inexperience in the real world. Or maybe she'd just gone insane. The two were practically interchangeable anyways.

"Friend of yours?" Applebloom raised an eyebrow and offered a wink to her teacher.

"Since before you were a filly," the black answered, "but we've had our fair share of disagreements."

"Fair share? You bicker like two pigs with one trough!"

Applebloom was unsure why Voraloxle laughed at that.

"Seems that she has plenty to learn. Ha! You always had the strangest companions." Voraloxle said.

"Remember, you were one of them, or of their kin do you think you do not stem?"

"Oh, I remember all right. A few cutthroats always after us, a life on the road, adventure and crazy fun! Question is, do you remember?" The hat and feather tilted down.

"Sounds like a mighty big tale!" Applebloom remarked.

"The story is long and weary, and I still hate him for it," Zecora said, "but it will make you teary, so we shall not bicker over it now. And," she turned to Voraloxle, "you said you had places to be. What places are you off to, exactly, some mystic tree?"

"Oh, you know, hunting magical artifacts, being a mercenary, smuggler... the usual. And hey," he said, walking away, "if you guys need a place, you know where to find me."

Zecora grunted and nodded in acknowledgement.

"See ya, Vora-guy!" Applebloom said as the pony faded back to the shadows. "So, Zecora, who was he?"

"A pony from time long past, and telling you the tale would not be so fast." Zecora looked over her shoulder at her apprentice. "Come. We still need to reach the town hall."

Without another word about the purple-black equine, the two once again began picking their way through the surprisingly

crowded town square in the downpour. Here, in Zebra land, there were few Pegasi, and fewer still who worked as weather management. This place was not affected by the magic of the princesses, and was more natural, like the Everfree Forest, Zecora knew as her home.

Eventually, the two pushed through the creatures gathered and stumbled, wet and tired, into the main lobby of the government building. The attendant was rather unemotional in asking for names and dates, places, and appointments.

"Okay... you two will stay in the guest room down the hall, to the left. Number 17." the zebra looked entirely bored with her job. "Next."

Entering the room with a key in the lock, Zecora said, "Remember Applebloom, you are here not only to learn of the world, but also as an envoy of Equestria. You will come with me to the diplomatic talks."

Applebloom was a bit taken aback; that was the first time her master had ever entirely stopped rhyming in her speech.

Almost as if reading her mind, Zecora said, "Communication is more important than mystique, child, and do not be as you are normally; so meek!"

Once more, Applebloom questioned her own sanity.

Welcome to Illogical Debate; AKA, the real world.

Chapter 2--Welcome to Illogical Debate; AKA, the real world.

Applebloom unceremoniously dropped her face on the desk and groaned audibly. She was tired and cold from travel, and she'd just been informed that there was still more to go. Of course, nothing could be simple or efficient; why else would it be a bureaucracy? Today was her first lesson of life--nothing can ever be clear-cut when dealing with a government. It was ironic that the democracy of Zebraland which was 'free' and had many 'liberties' functioned worse than the monarchy of Equestria. It would have been easy to pull the eternal night card on the zebras and force them into submission; after all, ponies controlled the life and death of everything on the entire planet just with the alicorn magic. But the princesses had to be 'fair' and 'righteous'. Sweetie Belle or Rarity would have called it an uncouth approach. Or whatever fancy-shmancy words they used.

At that thought, she wished either of those ponies were here now. All those fancy words might come in handy. Applebloom was patient; that was a virtue she'd learned many a time, from Applejack in farming or salesmanship to Zecora's alchemy or Rainbow Dash's Mantis kung-fu. But this was just downright taxing; zebras (as Applebloom had learned to her dismay) were extremely stubborn. They couldn't have the meeting here--oh no, that would make things to easy! So, once again, Applebloom and Zecora left the appointment room after Applebloom had finished facedesking and fond themselves on the road. This time, however, they had the company of a caravan.

Camels with large humps pulled trains of the things through desert and jungle and plain, all manner of climate in the unforgiving areas between military checkpoints along the highways. The road was paved, but still a hard one to walk. Applebloom had tried to strike up conversation with caravan members or even the camels, but most (especially the latter) clearly showed their dislike for idle chit-chat.

On the third day of the rough journey, just as the caravan hit smack in the middle between two roadblocks, a rustling came from the reeds that grew thick on either side of the road. Applebloom knew something was wrong, and though she was confident in Zecora's training in stealth combat and her martial knowledge, she would rather not deal with anything or anyone slinking around.

"Mind the gap; we'd like to avoid a mishap," Zecora drew Applebloom's attention from the brush and to the small stream the group was crossing. "Open wide your eyes, and see as much as the fly,"

Applebloom nodded, taking the advice silently. With a deep breath, the pony pulled back her vision, hearing, and smell, and took in everything at once in equal amounts.

What she saw did not surprise her in the least.

"Watch it!" she cried, and the bandits chose that moment to jump through the stalks on either side and charge. All manner of creatures attacked--blindingly quick cheetahs, a few zebras, and even a few of Applebloom's own. On both sides, weapons flashed, and with a glance to her left, Applebloom saw her similarly readied master.

They jumped into the fray at the same time, managing to take a few opponents from behind, as they had stayed behind the two wagons. A unicorn floated an obsidian spear and stabbed at Applebloom, who nimbly dodged to the right and swung a knife to the left. The blade caught horsehide and opened a gash. Showing remarkable pain tolerance, the yellow pony's adversary wheeled his spear around before his body and struck blindly. Applebloom crossed the knives in her hooves and caught the blade in an X. Sparks danced over her special hoofboots that allowed her to hold her weapons with greater dexterity. However, the unicorn telekinesis was too strong. Using the locked weapons as leverage, Applebloom drove herself forward and spun around, launching a sidekick with a hind leg. She made sure not to tilt herself to far back and remained balanced.

A hoof in the gut plus the gash in his side forced the unicorn's attention from his magic, letting the spear drop to the dirt. A moment later, his body followed his weapon.

Meanwhile, Zecora was face by a daunting and dashing cheetah and several other foes. A flurry of weapons left them with cuts and scrapes, but nothing serious. Applebloom made sure that they all were injured by blade before moving on to assist the caravan masters. After all, the poison of her teacher's knives ought to be taking effect soon.

Indeed, while Applebloom and a guard finished off a scowling zebra, several thuds against the packed road gave the young pony a wicked smile. That smile grew as she surveyed the defeated bandits, but the smirk shrank when the burning wagons and dead camels came in sight. Camels were not exactly the greatest fighters, despite their stubborness; this showed by the dead around them. At least they had died while taking down their murderers. That did not stop the churning of Applebloom's gut.

That was the first time she'd ever killed or witnessed killing up close. She thought about this while staring at the carnage. In her mind, she pictured her sister. What would AJ think of her if she saw her here? This ain't glorious battle; this's killin', plain and simple. For once. This inner conscience also saw the irony--after all, isn't that what she wanted? Something simple? In a way, killing was simple. While the techniques might be a little complex, it was really pretty easy to kill. But honesty--thats what her sister had taught her. Maybe it'd been a little strenuous at times, taxing... but it had always been worth it. Applebloom looked at the bandits and saw what she didn't want to be: dead and rotting on a road that no one cared for. When she realized what she was doing, she almost laughed out loud; she was being smart! For once, she had some thought. She appreciated Twilight and Sweetie Belle and Rarity in that moment even more than she ever had before. They were smart; this was the price they paid, too. Huh. Maybe Dash was right about the egg-heads being crazy.

"In a sickening way, it is beatiful," Zecora interrupted her student's few seconds of reflection. "but death still is a heavy toll, on mind, body, and soul. It happens so quickly, even if one dies from being sickly; the Grim Pony cares not if you are lonely. Hmph." She then said something in an odd language that Applebloom didn't understand.

"What was that?"

"Quando il gioco è finito, il re e il pedone va nella stessa scatola. 'When the game is over, the king and the pawn go into the same box.' That's an old Griffin dialect that died when the Princesses we did elect. A few words about how life does not matter when death takes us, but that thought should not break us."

It was interesting how Zecora so easily chose words that were always right for the moment. The constant poet, Applebloom mused.

Then, she looked up. "Zecora!" she cried, "You're saddlebags..."

The master alchemist looked at the bags and her eyes went wide. She cursed and searched frantically, until she found the bottle she needed.

Or rather, its remnants.

"Buck."

Well, Crap

Part 3--Well, crap.

"Is there any chance that we could find the ingredients near here?" Applebloom inquired hopefully. Zecora just shook her head and bit back tears. "Not even a tradin' post?"

"No... this potion comes from the herbs in the Everfree Forest, the key there being forest..." Zecora's breathing came faster.

"So... your momma..."

"She will die without this. Unfortunately, there is not much we can do besides shaking a fist."

"I thought it was convenient that we were coming out here to cure your mom anyways, but this, I mean... I'm sorry, Zecora." Applebloom put a hoof on her master's shoulder in comfort. Half the reason that the duo was selected to be diplomats was because they were goin' into Zebra country anyway--they were there to treat the disease that Zecora's mom had. According to Zecora, that potion was the only cure to it; a jumble of different ground-up plants that had some sort of reaction--'chemical', that's what she called it--that killed the illness. And this was no cowpony's cologne, no, these things were few and far between. The pieces for the Heart's Savior potion were only found in forests, and there weren't many here.

With a ray of hope in her mind Applebllom suggested, "We could send a letter to Twilight! She can get the ingredients, and with her teleportin', she might get here quick enough to save your mom!"

"It won't work," Zecora shot down the idea, "The potion takes time to brew, and there is no way Twilight could find the necessary components in time to keep my mother's condition in line."

"Is she your only family?"

"Yes."

With a depressed sigh, Applebloom realized her teacher did not want to talk about it. They both moved their thoughts away and began picking up the pieces of the caravan wreckage. Ironic that half (actually about a quarter) of their purpose in the Zebra land was to stop raids on fire spice caravans like this. Ironic that the delivery that seemed convenient was ruined by the very circumstances which should have made it easy. Convenience is illegal, she remembered Spike saying that once after being told to carry a heavy load. Irony was cruel, Applebloom realized. Cruelty without reason, the worst crime her society knew. Or cruelty in general. Applebloom idly wondered if some bored god had created them for his own amusement. Another chunk of her mind also contemplated if he was simply lonely. A lonely god, adrift among the stars. Suddenly, Applebloom wanted to meet him, and comfort him from the horrors he invoked in his own world. She shook her head to clear herself of thoughts and focused on the task at hoof.

One of the merchants was directing the survivors with torches.

"Alright, we have to burn the remains. We can't bring it with us and we can't let it block the road," the rough pony moved his callused hooves to direct the burning, and then turned to Applebloom and Zecora, who were piling corpses and wagons into the pyre, a smelly and very unpleasant business. Even though she hardly knew the ponies and zebras she pulled onto the fire, she still felt disgust and sadness.

"Thanks for your help, ladies. Without you, I don't think we'd have made it. Huh. We barely get clearance to come out here and we get raided." The caravan master thanked them. "Shame. These were good guys out here."

"You just wait. It's the bandits that we're out here to solve," Applebloom looked up from the shattered wood stacked on her hooves.

"Mercenaries, then?"

"I wish. We're Equestrian diplomats."  Applebloom responded.

"Bet you love politics, eh?" the pony said with a sarcastically.

Applebloom huffed, "Seriously."

The cleanup was disgusting and the pyre smelled of burned hair and flesh, which made Applebloom's nose twitch. Rain started to pour, causing steam to rise from the flames and muddy the road. Night fell and the moon rose, and Applebloom thought she could see Luna rising above the clouds. The group managed to trudge their way to the next checkpoint, carrying what could be salvaged. At that point, Zecora and Applebloom thanked the caravan master,  stepped back onto the road and headed towards an inn. The duo entered through what looked like a hastily constructed door. Applebloom only had some experience in the field of carpentry, but this place was unmistakeably run down. A bar lined the wall to the right of the entrance, and tables were interspersed around the room. Not evenly, mind you--no, these were haphazardly thrown about. Dozens of patrons filled the area, clogging the chairs, the bar, a pony or zebra could barely set hoof without hitting someone. Even a few griffins were there. This conglomeration again reminded Applebloom of the foreign nature of her expedition. Interestingly enough, the imposing figures of those around her were scarier than those of the bandits.

Zecora promptly asked the innkeeper, "Space for two refugees, please," and tossed him a Zebra coin. The innkeep simply nodded and pointed up the stairs, handing Zecora a key with the number twelve stenciled in. The zebra beyond the counter looked grizzled and as if he hadn't slept in days. And also like he was about to kill somepony.

Applebloom ran off to her master's side. Inside their room in the dark corridor, two beds were spaced comfortably apart. Despite the condition of the rest of the inn, the room itself was not bad. Applebloom watched as her master dropped her saddlebags and cloak and sunk into the bed facing the window. In that moment, Applebloom felt more sorrow than ever, and though she didn't know Zecora's mother, she could almost imagine her looking just like this. Bathed in moonlight, a sigh or a sob racking her body, but silently. The stars shining in the background, casting an eerie, dotted glow on the room.

Applebloom herself sunk into the other bed and drifted off to a disturbed sleep.

The next morning, the sun rose with a flare, shoving its way through the clouds and opening its life-giving heat to the world. The master alchemist and her student broke their fast at the inn, but soon departed for the road to the capital. After all, they had a mission to complete, and a dying zebra to send off. They headed north, the sun to their left and the west, along with the faint and distant smell of the salty oceans. To the east, Applebloom could barely make out mountains that barred the Everfree Forest from the rolling plains and herds of wandering zebra and wildebeest tribes. She actually wasn't sure if Zecora was from the nomadic groups or the civilized parts. But she was also smart enough to realize that her teacher would not want to answer any questions with all of the stress on her.

For hours, they walked, past sand and dirt and dry grasses, stopping at an inn the next night. They continued the same boring travelling, not even talking. Seldom did others pass by--the roads were dangerous now, far too dangerous for the idle sightseer. Another day passed, and with no civilization in sight, the pair made camp. They set their fire to ward off beasts of the night, and sat there for a while.

Then, suddenly, Zecora's eyes lit up.

"Applebloom, look! A Galifrayan mountain flower! One of the ingredients, get the fire ready to cook, we need to be expedient,"

Applebloom rose from her half slumber, "Galifrayan flower? Isn't that one of the things we need for the potion to save your mom?"

"Yes! As I said, prepare a pot of water, fill it all the way, or to your best."

The apprentice ran off with a pot to a nearby stream and filled the cookware with water. She stamped her hoof in anxiety, waiting for the thing to fill. Looking back, Applebloom saw Zecora frantically prancing about, apparently discovering even more of the herbs necessary for the life-saving brew.

Applebloom found it strange that so many of these had appeared right at their camp. It was almost too easy; like someone had set them up.

Her eyes narrowed as she glanced around the area, but saw no one and nothing except a lone tree and a few reeds by the stream on the dry plain.

Soon enough, the pot was full, so Applebloom trotted back with it. Zecora had a frantic look on her face, and told Applebloom that she couldn't find the component, the root of a Laughing Tree.

"Well duh, I mean, it's the root of a tree! There's only one around here, and it's not a Laughing Tree." Applebloom said, as if the answer was obvious.

Zecora pawed around on the ground, much like she had when first entering Ponyville.

"That would make sense, except  for the fact that I also found a water serpent tooth. As I know, of deserted plains they are rather aloof. " Zecora cocked her head to the side in a manner that said, 'You're wrong.'

Applebloom explained her theory on someone having set them up for this, matching Zecora's suspicions. However, neither of them could figure out who would do this. Purposely drop a few ingredients, and leave one out? What was going on?

"Let's get some rest. Sleep on it. Agreed?" Applebloom suggested.

"Agreed," Zecora replied.

They did as they said, and, rotating the watch, they slept. In the morning, a brilliant sunrise woke Applebloom, casting a long shadow of Zecora, who stared off into the distance, in deep thought. Before Applebloom said anything, the zebra spoke.

"There are few that would know the components of the cure. The disease itself is rare; and those who catch it, well they do not fare. Among those ponies who might understand it, there are even fewer who have the resources to counteract it. You remember Voraloxle?" Zecora turned her head towards her apprentice, who nodded.

"Yes. In securing this potion, he would be the best."

"So you think he came here, knew we were going to camp here, and set the pieces here for us? It sounds fishy to me," Applebloom was skeptical.

"Perhaps. Do you have a better idea, Applebloom? No, I assume." Zecora said.

The two packed up the camp, planning to head to what Zecora called a hideout of Voraloxle's.  It was in the capital city, packed in between the crowds. But they still had a long journey ahead of them. A few hours down the road, the pair reached a bustling town. It had walls of stone. Towers were spaced along the line, which appeared to form an octagon. Well, almost.  It was haphazard at best; even in the best places, it looked ready to collapse. However, among Zecora's many lessons about the world was that many things were not as they seemed. Perhaps this rickety, wobbling village was very strong. The guards on the turreted pillars looked the part. They wore cloth almost everywhere, which appeared an odd decision to Applebloom in the desert heat. From her distance, maybe a hundred meters from the walls, they looked to carry spears and bows; bows were an odd choice. Applebloom knew Applejack had a shotgun. Why not use firearms like that? While hooves were more dextrous than they seemed, a bow would be difficult to hold and fire properly. Of course, they had been used in history, so it was certainly possible.

However, Applebloom drew her thought away from the strange armaments of the guards to the front gates. The master alchemist and apprentice approached, and all Zecora had to do was pull back the hood of her cloak. This prompted the two gatesmen at the entrance to send a signal to buddies beyond the wood. When they pulled cranks, the gate opened.

Soon, Applebloom and Zecora were moving through the crowded town. It looked primitive, even for a desert town. Buildings were mostly of adobe and sandstone bricks, abundant resources in this place.

While pushing their way through the people and the market, Applebloom heard several screams. Zecora also turned in the direction of the sounds, which came from off to the left. Quickly, the duo dashed towards the area. It seemed, at a glance, that everyone had backed off to let a few customers into a market stall. However, upon closer inspection a robbery was seen taking place.

The largest thief, an imposing zebra, yelled at the shopkeeper. "Where is the book? I know you have it!"

"I-I swear, I don-don't know w-what you're talking about!" the victim sobbed, covering her head. The mare ducked as the zebra smacked one of her potions from the table.

His companions tore into the stall, throwing vials and books and all manner of exotic goods to the ground. Zecora and Applebloom only then managed to push through the crowd, along with a few guards they had found along the way.

With lighting speed, Applebloom tackled the smallest enemy, driving blades deep into his--or was it a her?--torso. The masked face's eyes widened with shock, and then closed forever. Zecora swept the big one off of his legs, and then poured a poison down his gullet. It was surprisingly quick and effective, despite the oddity of the attack. The third thief was simealtaneously attacked by two spear-wielding guards and the now free Applebloom. After several vicious cuts and stabs, he hit the ground.

The quaking mare rose on her hooves, still shaken. She had a blood red mane and tail, with a contrasting blue body. Zecora approached her.

"It's okay, friend. If I may ask, what is your name, crimson mane?"

"Asura Alverci. Thank you, uh-" the pony said.

"Zecora is my name, Asura. It was not a problem. Now, can you tell me what those folk were after?" Zecora indicated the fallen bodies.

"They kept talking about a book... Velnar..Velnish.. Velnishar, that was it! I don't know why they thought I had it." Asura's breathing slowed.

Zecora patted the pony's shoulder, and left as the guardsmen took over from there. Velnishar was a vaguely familiar name to Zecora. She'd have to ask Voraloxle about that too. Heaving out a sigh, she realized she would owe and owed that pony far too much.

The Great Journey Begins

Part 4

Voraloxle shifted in the couch, one of his few luxurious accsessories in his hideout. After all, it would be a complete waste should he be caught smuggling and have all of his possesions taken. That was why he and his organization always packed light. For conveinence's sake.

He'd been sitting here for the better part of three hours, listening to an annoying zebra trying to push him into a deal. Voraloxle did not like people who threatened him. This fool was really just pathetic; he had no clue the strength of Voraloxle's shady empire. At this point, the black-and-purple pony had stopped paying attention. He'd decided this annoyance needed to be made an example of.

Flicking his long, straight white mane out of his eyes, Voraloxle fed magical power into his unicorn horn and snapped the zebra's neck. His wide-brimmed hat left his adversary--if you really wanted to call him that--not knowing what hit him.

"Get rid of him. Preferably by throwing his body at the front door to the Yang Benevolent Association," Voraloxle named this zebra's company, a rather ironically named producer of illegal weaponry.

As his two guards dragged the body out a hidden door, Voraloxle could feel the magical trap he'd set outside the door to his small meeting room trigger, warning him of someone coming in. Who the hell had the doorman let by this time?

Voraloxle was pleasantly--or unpleasantly, he couldn't decide--surprised at the appearance of Zecora and her young apprentice over the threshold to his square meeting room.

"Ah, Zecora. How interesting that we would meet again on such short notice. Please, sit." he indicated the couch across from him. "Now, what is it that you would like to discuss? I thought you had rather vital business here in the capital?"

Zecora's face grew into a scowl. "Voraloxle, end these games that you play! I know that you have involved yourself in this fray," she looked accusingly at him.

Voraloxle raised his front hooves up in a gesture of submissiveness. "Whoa, hey, what did I do?"

"Well, ye gave us those ingredients to the cure!" The apprentice spoke up in her strange, accented drawl. "All aside from one."

"I don't know anything about this specific 'cure' you're discussing. I have extensive medical knowledge, but this definately does not ring a bell," While normally he would probably be lying, Voraloxle was seriously stumped, though he tried not to show it. For once in his life, he couldn't even pretend to know what was going on. "You could at least tell me what it cures," he said, hoping to draw out further information.

"Ya'll ready know what it fixes, doncha?" the yellow pony, not even out of her teen years by the looks of it, threw in a hint of doubt at the end of her words. So they didn't really know. There wasn't any solid evidence.

Voraloxle rose from his perch and stepped down onto his hind legs. "Actually, I know absolutely nothing beyond that there is a cure for something, but for what I know not." He turned his eyes to the zebra. "Zecora, please. You know me."

Zecora's "I-am-not-amused" countenance remained. "Indeed, I do know you, and I know that most of your words are never true."

"Most? I thought you trusted me more than that," Voraloxle put on an obviosuly fake abused face. "No matter. You're not getting anywhere with me until you tell me what you're talking about anyways.

Zecora sighed--more like heaved--out a breath, and began to open up. "I speak of the black cancer. To our questions I hoped you would have the answer."

"Ah. Black Cancer. I've heard of it; but I'm not too familiar with its cure. Enlighten me?" Voraloxle asked with particularly honeyed words.

"There's several ingredients to the cure, and we found a couple of 'em on our way here to deal with the trade routes," The apprentice cut in again. Voraloxle liked her no-nonsense attitude. She still seemed a little soft around the edges, but she was looking to be a good mercenary...

"And I take it you found all but one and you thought I had planted them?" Voraloxle assumed. When the pair nodded in unison, he continued. "I could help you, but... I need a little something in return. The Book of Velnishar," he said.

"That name I have heard before, but what lore it contains I am not sure," Zecora's eyes grew dark.

"Alright, then. Finish up your diplomatic business here, and I think I know who to find," Voraloxle dismissed them with a wave of his hoof.

Once they were gone, he called out, and a pony stepped from nothingness into shadow. "Take care of the place while I'm gone," Voraloxle said, and without another word, slipped off through a hidden door.

That Could Be a Problem

Part 5

Applebloom facedesked for about the tenth time now. The zebras were a stubborn people, not very used to change. This made them very difficult to deal with, even more so than the average politician.

"Councilor, we can secure extra guards for the caravans. Celestia was willing to send an entire legion to defend shipments."

Councilor Frala'Nan whinnied in some sort of frustration. "Defending them is not the problem! We have guards; the problem is the raiders themselves. There have been more and more attacks, more and more deaths. Even with an entire legion of reinforcements, we couldn't hope to hold off for long. We need to stop the raiders' source."

"We could have agents come in to find their hideouts," Applebloom suggested with a shrug. If she had fingers, she would have had them crossed. The Councilors had not been too cooperative about her suggestions.

"Actually... that might help," Councilor Sk'ooma said, rubbing a hoof on his chin. "How soon can they be here?"

Applebloom took a guess based on her own time traveling to the Zebra land. "A week? Two?"

"Perfect!" Another Councilor, who Applebloom had not bothered to learn the name of, said, with the other five nodding and murmuring, pleased.

"A solution to this raider pollution has been reached, then?" Zecora said.

"Yes," the Councilors all answered at once.

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

The columns split the light of Celestia's star into lines of even shadow, which grew along the wall and covered it with darkness. Applebloom walked in and out of this shifting light and shade, heading back to her room in preparation to leave with Zecora and Voraloxle. They had met with Zecora's mother, and found her, thankfully, in a much strogner state then they had thought. She was a pleasant enough zebra, though her illness seemed to have made her a bit rude. After a quick checkup, and a few tense moments of explanation, Zecora estimated that her mother had about three or maybe three and a half months left without the potion, giving them plenty of time to not waste or dawdle.

Applebloom hummed a tune Fluttershy had taught her when she was young to pass the time through the Council Hall's picturesque yet boring courtyard.

"My little ponies, my little ponies..." Applebloom softly whispered the first lines, but as she was about to utter the next words, the sounds of loud arguing cut her off.

"We cannot delay! The Book of Vel-" Frala'Nan's voice echoed along the garden and rows of fountains.

The other pony, and this was a pony, not a zebra, muttered in a terse whisper, "Quiet! Someone may hear!"

Immediately, Applebloom flattened against one of the columns and laid a hoof on a blade. The squishy cartilage and muscle of her hoof found a solid hold, providing the yellow pony with a small measure of warm security. She knew she shouldn't have been prying, but she swore she'd heard that name, that... Book of Velnishar? Her ears perked up, straining to hear the sharp words of the councilor.

"...It may be lost to the hands of those... scum! Should they manage to capture it before we can get there--"

"They will not," the hooded pony interrupted.

"Should they capture it," Frala'Nan continued, "they will hold us and your kind hostage with the power of the very sun!"

The other one paused for a moment, as if thinking, then said, "I'm not really in it for my kind. You should know that by now."

"Get on it. Now. Delaying won't help you," Frala'Nan muttered persuasively. "Or me,"

"This operation is... delicate," the hooded figure conceded. "We can't be too hasty, but I'll see what I can do," With that, he turned on one back hoof and trotted away, making a noticeably harder sound hitting the ground on his third step.

Sneaking her eyes around the column, Applebloom saw Frala'Nan turn away and began walking off as well. However, as he walked, his face began to contort, and within seconds he was choking and pulling at a dart stuck in his neck. Applebloom glanced around frantically for the shooter, and spotted a shape in the shadows of the second floor, which quickly pulled away from the railing it had apparently been balancing a rifle on.

Eyeing the second floor balcony, Applebloom made an educated toss of her blade and was rewarded with a body tumbling down off of the ledge. Her elation at a successful hit was lost soon, however, as she rushed to the side of Frala'Nan, who looked to be heaving his last breaths.

"Yorlug, Yorlug island... Celestia... Benevolent assosia-a," Frala'Nan's right forelef twitched, and then lay still. Applebloom hadn't known him well, and didn't really like him, but it was still sad to see. She plucked the dart out of his throat, examining the marks and the colors of the liquid. She licked the tip, then quickly spat; deathbell extract. Even if she had the proper mixture with her, she couldn't have saved the Councilor. But what had he said? Yorlug island? Celestia? Benevolent association?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the striking hoofbeats of the Council's guards. The zebras wore a single uniform, but carried a mishmash of armament, implying a lack of organization or funding.

And, unfortunately, training too.

With that thought, Applebloom felt the cold steel of a revolver barrel nesting on the back of her head.

"It ain't me," she said, calmly and without motion. "It was that feller over yonder," she said, kicking a hoof in the direction of the fallen zebra.

The zebra holding the gun whispered something to his brothers in arms, and one of them turned over the face-down corpse.

His face turned to shock and drained of color as he delivered his report.

"It's... it's Sergeant Krayas! She... killed him, sir!"

Uh oh.

You Can Run, And You... Can? Hide

Part 6

"Your friend seems to be taking a while on her way back," Voraloxle said from his relaxed position, with his feet kicked up against the bedframe.

"My protege is capable, friend," Zecora responded, "I do not expect that she has met her end." Zecora paced around the room on her hooves despite her statement. Of course Applebloom could fend for herself. No longer was she a puny whelp, as she had been when Zecora had first met her. Well, puny, but ferocious enough. No, not ferocious... tenacious. Determined. An apt learner and a better warrior.

Yet still, an inkling of doubt seeded itself in the back of Zecora's mind.

After a few tense minutes of waiting, Voraloxle spoke. "No matter how good she is," he said, "a blade can take her all the same."

Zecora didn't fear that Applebloom had died. No, certainly not that. She was probably just... using the restroom.

Voraloxle's tongue made a popping sound, and he sucked in a breath. He paused for a moment, and then said, "Let's go find her."

Zecora silently agreed, shouldering her gear.

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

Applebloom had a feeling she couldn't talk her way out of this, but she tried anyways. "I swear, I didn't kill him. It was that feller over yonder! He shot some sorta dart with deathbell extract on the end. I didn't have the antidote with me and I didn't have any ingredients or time to brew it. Please, you hafta believe me!"

The zebra with the revolver pulled out four hoofcuffs. "You'll have a trial, but we're keeping you in custody until then,"

Knowing zebra politics, a trial could take weeks or months. Applebloom knew that she didn't have that kind of time.

"Sorry, but I'm innocent," Applebloom flipped around, kicking the firearm away. "Unless you prove me guilty."

With that, she dashed off, flying through the halls, hoping to lose her pursuers through the sprawling government building. She knew she couldn't go out the front door; but where was the back?

"AFTER HER!" the zebra yelled to his slow-to-rouse troops, who stumbled after the speeding pony. A few bullets dinged against the metal walls and cut into the hardwood floor, but the zebra had to stop to shoot. A flying leap took Applebloom up to the first landing of a staircase, then uo to the third level. The building looked like a cross-section of history; the first layer was the first era of zebra society, the second corresponded, an so on. Up here, walls of windows overlooking the city were interspersed with columns of steel, which Applebloom weaved through, sending a few of her assailants smashing into metal. One even pirouetted through the window, falling three stories to smack into the cobblestones below.

Applebloom shouldered through a final door, but scrambled to a stop as she saw the dizzying fall to the pavement. The wind whistled along the roof, howling past the pony, who had trouble catching her breath. By the time she had looked around and found no way down, the zebras had caught up to her.

"By order of my superiors, you are under arrest for the murder of a Guardian of the Council, a Council member, and for resisting trial." The handgun wielding zebra and his men formed a rough, staggered half circle around Applebloom, pointing spears, firearms and various other devices of killing that the yellow pony had no names for. The menacing tip of a trident jabbed far too close to her cheek.

One zebra stepped up with hoofcuffs, prepared to detain Applebloom, who did not want to kill these folk for simply following orders.

For a hesitant moment, she wondered--do I have to?

With less than seconds to spare before she was locked up, simealtaneous leap forward and backflip, two commands from her hesitating mind, ended up throwing her into a flailing, messy spin the caught even her off guard. The officer was slapped in the face by a swinging hoof, and the force of his weight drove Applebloom backwards.

And straight over the edge of the building.

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

By this time, Zecora and Voraloxle had split up. The former had gone flying up the stairs, while the latter barreled throught the door to look for their third musketeer in the surrounding city of Zebraska.

Voraloxle's trained eyes scanned every face, every hoof, every dangling piece of hair. They missed nothing. Yet, though Voraloxle had sped around the city in a five mile radius from the towering government building, from shady backstreets to rich neighborhoods he saw no sign of Applebloom, with whom he had had barely any time to develop any sort of connection. And now she could be anywhere--lost, killed, mugged and left to bleed out in some dumpster.

Circling the building again, the velvet black-putple unicorn tipped his feathered hat up to look again. To spot a red bow, a brown cloak, orange eyes.

Still, nothing.

He sat on his haunches against the wall of the structure, facing the various market stalls and desert streets, sands blowing with the whipping wind. As he thought, he thought he heard voices; not the incoherent jumble from the crowded square, with vendors yelling prices every which way. No, this was from... above? Voraloxle looked up just in time to see something falling. He conjured a protective, gelatanous energy field to save himself. In that split second, he had also completely negated Applebloom's downard momentum.

As he released the shield, thinking the danger had passed, the pony dropped atop him, landing them in a heap.

"Keep the shield up!"

Voraloxle responded almost instantaneously, and the glittering blue dome made a strange sound like that of an object falling into a pool while the listener is underwater. For the second time in less than ten seconds, Voraloxle had saved himself and Applebloom. This time not from a fall, but from speeding bullets.

"Run!" Voraloxle yelled, his vocie muffled like the impact of the metal cones.

In a surreal, adrenaline-fueled, slow-motion leap, the two ponies galloped between stalls, knocking over pedestrians, clearing crates, and generally causing havoc.

With chaos everywhere, any city guards that had heard the call of their brothers could not wade through the sea of writhing bodies to ensare their targets.

However, a split second reaction from a concerned citizen sent Applebloom flying on a crate proppeled via crane through the air, until her hoof caught the ledge of the dock down into the waters of the coast city. Voraloxle found her, and had but a split second to make a decision; leave her and live, or take her and die?

She could be useful! His mind said, and he pulled her up from the dock, continuing their flight from the pursuing city and the all-too-quickly growing lynch mob. But a lynch mob had nothing against a proper "exotic item trader" and his "associates". Voraloxle had plenty of connections in the city. After all, the best place to fight someone is right under their nose.

Diving into another marketplace, Voraloxle managed to get the pair of the street and into the shelter of a nearby alleyway. There, Applebloom and the black-velcet unicorn waited for hours as the investigators cleared the surrounding area. Except for the expertly chosen thin path between buildings.

The afternoon turned to night, Luna's moon replacing Celestia's sun. The markets quieted, and the torches of guards and "well-equipped citizens" still shifted the shadows. Hoofsteps occasionally passed the area, clopping against the cobblestone with precision and uniformity, usually in ones or twos. Whenever the slow tap, tap, tap drifted by, both Applebloom and Voraloxle tensed.

At roughly one in the morning, the steps made a scraping sound, and clopped inwards.

Straight at the hiding ponies.

Voraloxle knew his revolvers would make far too much noise. He drew a knife from his belt. Applebloom took two.

As the shadow crescendoed and the first hoof slipped into view, an unfortunate zebra lost his life. An unfortunate Applebloom seemed, to Voraloxle, almost sick.

Once they had neutralized the threat, Applebloom risked speech. "Where should we go?"

"I know a guy."

I Know A Guy

Zecora ran through the halls of the government building, hoping to find someone; anyone, in fact. She'd found the mysteriously dead councilor and what seemed to be his bodyguard, but not much else.

Thundering through the bland corridors, Zecora flew through the door to the roof blindly, tumbling onto a guard that had simealtaneously crossed the threshold. With a crash, they rolled to the edge of the building, and Zecora found herself staring over the shoulder of a rather confused guard down to the caved in remains of what might have been a pile of trash.

Stumbling to her hooves, Zecora backed up to the door once more, and sized up the situation.

Five guards stood around her in a semicircle with their backs to the drop, weapons raised.

"Oh than--"

Before the somewhat relieved Zecora could finish, the middle officer cut her off.

"You are coming with us. We need to know if you had anything to do with the crime," the zebra approached.

Zecora decided to not play it stupid.

"Celestia sent me to deal with the bandit problem. I represent Equestria, its rulers, subjects, all of them!"

One of the other guards leaned in and spoke to the middle one in sharp whispers. Zecora's ear snapped to the sound, and she caught a tidbit of noise.

"...works...Celestia. We can't... leave,"

For a moment, the officer weighed something in his mind. He seemed to grow visibly distressed, like he was making a difficult and important decision. Finally, after what seemed like an hour of silent shifting, he drew his revolver. Zecora had no time to react as a bullet ripped through her back left ankle, shattering bone, and throwing her into immense agony. She managed to let out a grunt of pain as she blacked out and fell to the ground.

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

The wharf stank of salting fish, unwashed fisher ponies and zebras, and an odd, out of place whiff of baking bread. Sound ranged from the hammering of nails on new ships to the calls of dock foremen. Zebra and pony ships, even a griffin Water Landing and Take Off Airship, set sail or crunched against the pier, ropes landing on the platform.

This was among the biggest ports on all of Equis, barring the Koratuk Island Sanctuary. It was also one of the only natural harbors on the entire continent, meaning that aside from a few sparsely placed cities and the occasional airship landing zone, this was the only place that trade would really occur. For that reason, passenger ships generally were not allowed here; they were too big and too slow for the machine-gun pace of the Zebraska Capitol Wharf.

Applebloom and Voraloxle trotted along the shadows of the market stalls, staying as far from sight as possible while maintaining the quickest route to Voraloxle's "business contact". Applebloom smelled, heard, saw, felt, tasted the dock. Her senses mingled in an all consuming state, taking in everything around her. Zecora's lessons began to sail into her mind, the waves of memory dragging up the hulks of sunken dreams.

Zecora breathed deeply, her eyes both transfixed and wandering.

"Let your mind fall into shadow, and pull your body into light," the master alchemist's voice was slow and trancelike.

Applebloom closed her eyes and focused.

"No, little one. The trick is to let the brain run. How can you see with no eyes, hear with no ears? Do not focus, do not become the single-minded locust."

The sounds and sensations of the world clamored for attention that Applebloom would not give. She compared all the observations at once and evenly, objectively and without purpose of finding an answer.

What struck her immediately was how vulnerable she was.

"Is that the mare from the posters?"

"And the guy, the one who was running with her!"

"Nah, it can't be them. Somezebra like that would have gotten the buck out of Mustang by now!"

"I don't know... I'm keepin' an eye on those two."

The air began to smell and taste more of a nervous sweat instead of that of a hard day's work. A sort of tenseness was starting to build when Voraloxle slipped into a slightly open threshold, Applebloom gliding in behind.

Out of sight, out of mind.

The small hut glowed from a small candle, and the filtering light from three small window slits near the door. It smelled of a strange mixture of anchovies and...

Fire spice?

It had that distinctive scorched-hair scent that instantly gave it away. Applebloom remembered the taste of it on her tounge--even in small amounts, it practically set her mouth on fire. They'd gotten it from Spike, who, while a baby, could produce small amounts of it with great difficulty and some help from Twilight's magic. Zecora had taught her the recipes of several potions (and one poison) to cauterize wounds. When poured in a liquid state on a gash, the skin sealed and scabbed over almost instantly. Certainly, it was extremely painful, but a little magic here and a painkiller there and the heat was gone.

Apparently some ponies used it in food. How something so volatile could possibly be a delicate, expensive ingredient, Applebloom never understood.

The brick and adobe hut was cool, at least. The shade provided some respite from the burning sun outside, a wonderful relief on Applebloom's coat and skin. The mud-padded ground was damp, perhaps the result of the Zebraska River flooding.

But the real centerpiece came when the chair at the desk in the small room's center swiveled to Voraloxle and Applebloom, revealing the apparent owner. A zebra, maybe thirty, thirty five. A cigarette glowed in between his teeth. Applebloom coughed when a ring of smoke reached her. She had never particularly cared for tobacco--and generally didn't like the smokers either.

"Ah, Voraloxle--it's been quite a while, now hasn't it?" the zebra said in a surprisingly congenial tone.

Voraloxle seemed to become cooler to the touch as he sat in the shadow of his wide hat. The rings on his back right boot clinked at a shift in his position.

Within moments, the bronze revolver was cocked and the long barrel rested on the forehead of the zebra, who remained calm to an almost ridiculous level. From what Applebloom had learned in these past days about Voraloxle's kind, that meant one thing:

He was scared to death.

They always played it cool, always gave the stone-faced gaze--but on the inside, the heart was racing, the blood pumping. Fear and anxiety boiled mere milimeters beneath the surface.

There it was; a single drop of sweat, rolling down the neck from behind the ear, which twitched as it came down, trying to hide the persperation but making it all the more noticeable.

"Do you remember, scum, the last thing I said to you when we parted ways?" The dark coat now radiated heat, the heat of anger and disgust.

"Of course, Voraloxle, how could I possibly forget?" the zebra said, rather sarcastically considering he had a gun at his head. "You are going to kill me."

"Unless I can make my life worth your while," the zebra's mane fell in lengths to his hip, where he curved and his hind legs sat at the floor.

A hearty laugh pulled from Voraloxle's lungs, his smile throwing the revolver back in its holster. The two ponies brohoofed (yeah, that's right, brohoof, as in /) (. Deal with it. ) and clapped each other on the back.

"You know me too well, Varos. I will still have to kill you, though."

"Well, if I was about to die anyways it wouldn't matter, would it?"

"I guess not. But, as you say, your life is worth something to me. Care to become a 'business contact' again?"

Varos tilted his head back and forth in consideration. "Hm. That depends. I believe that you and your companion have been causing some trouble, yes? In that case, it might cost you a little extra."

"I could also rip your eyelids off before I shot you."

"And then you'd have to go to the trouble of finding someone else entirely to do your dirty work. Celestia knows you hate doing anything productive. Come on, I only betrayed you once and might have almost destroyed the world a little bit! No hard feelings?"

"I have no bits to offer, but there is... one thing," Voraloxle said, leaning in to Varos' ear and whispering something.

Applebloom saw his eyes grow wide with a wicked, mischievous, and slightly fearful gleam.

"And, naturally, we'll need transportation, which is why I came to only the best sailor I have ever known--aside from myself, of course." Voraloxle threw out the compliment merely to raise Varos' motivation a little.

The sailor stood up onto his hooves. "Well, if anyzebra can get you there, it's me!"

"Oh, and should Zecora come by, have one of your men send her along too," Voraloxle said, almost like he forgot to grab a coat on a windy day.

"Certainly!...

"...friend."

Good Luck

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

Zecora's eyes cracked open.

A blistering light scarred them, burning the retina, crashing in waves through the nerves, shutting down Zecora's whole system for a moment. She blinked, but the light only got stronger. Reluctantly, Zecora closed her eyes. She slid a hoof around. Cold, stony ground. Warm air--there were others nearby. The scent of sweat filled the place. As her hoof clacked along the ground, Zecora's ears found a subtle echo. Maybe... thirty by thirty room, with an open end in front of her.

"Hello there, Ms. Zecora," a voice pleasantly flowed. A stallion with a strange accent Zecora couldn't place. It wasn't of Canterlot or Zebraska... Odd.

Despite her nagging curiosity, Zecora remained silent.

"It is Ms. Zecora, yes?" the voice asked.

Once more, Zecora kept her peace.

"Well, while you may not want to talk, I certainly do. Since one of my compatriots is about to admister the Jester's Death Poison to you, I figured that I should, as any courteous host would, tell you why you must die," he paused for a moment, sucking in a breath. Zecora smelled pipeweed.

"You work for Princess Celestia of Equestria, yes?"

No response.

"I assume that is a confirmation. In any case, I believe that you have knowledge of the Book of Velnishar. You killed my men, stopped their operations, and interfered with a decree straight from the unfortunately late Councilor. If you have anything to say that might make me refute this claim, speak now."

Silence.

"What do you know about Yorlug Island?"

Nothing.

"The Yang Benevolent Association, what of them?"

I pity your stupidity, fool.

"I see that you remain uncooperative. Give her the poison."

You never kill an alchemist with a potion, you incompetent bottle of mane lotion!

Zecora opened her mouth slightly, allowing the bottle's threshold to cross her bottom lip. The liquid was tasteless, and it almost felt like nothing was there at all. Ideal for making someone choke or spasm. Which was exactly how the poison worked--the chemicals alone did nothing. Wild motions that sent electrical signals to the brain could actually trigger a reaction, causing the corrosive ingredients to activate and burn the lining of the stomach or throat.

Naturally, the alchemist knew how to avoid this. Whoever this zebra or pony was, they were either making it easy for her or just plain stupid. The bullet wound had even been healed. Who did these fellows think they were dealing with?

After a while, the ponies left--about four sets of hooves, all told. They must have assumed their poison had worked. Opening her eyes once more, Zecora found the blinding light gone. In front of her were bars. Up was an open sky, with hanging moss and such from the walls. The room was actually about 30x30. But leaving the cell was the easy part.

Bracing herself, Zecora slowly and carefully leaned onto her stomach, pushing herself to her back knees. Opening her mouth, she slid a hoof in and flicked her uvula. Vomit came up, burning her throat and spewing over the floor. Because of the neural signal required to vomit, the contents of her stomach began to corrode. Looking around, Zecora ripped off a twig from a sprawling bush coming out of the overgrown wall. Poking it into the mess, she tossed it up and into the bars of her prison. A sizzling sound emanated from the corroding metal. A hole soon was burned through the bars, allowing Zecora to slip out.

But as she was about to step out, she realized something--this was all too easy. Surely somezebra would know Jester's Death Poison well enough that the outcome of the situation would be clear.

However, the zebra still needed to find her gear, so she pressed on. The halls of the prison seemed to be lit from magical lights embedded in the ceiling. Corridors of emptiness--not even a single voice or the clop of a hoof aside from Zecora's fast pace. Signs aided the way: ARMORY, CELL BLOCK A, CELL BLOCK C, CELL BLOCK D, EXIT, STORAGE. Running for the storage and exit areas, Zecora's suspicions began to multiply. Signs leading her out? What was this?

As she grabbed her gear from a chest and kicked open an unlocked door, she had a sudden moment of realization. She stood on a secluded pier in a jungle just outside of Zebraska. Across the clear water, she saw the edge of the city, and one small ship, nestled slightly away from the others on the docks. It had two red stripes painted along it. Nothing could be clearer.

You want me to find this book for you, then, eh? Well, I won't make it easy for you to track me.

She tore a piece of paper from a pad in her bags, and scribbled a note on it with a charcoal pen, leaving it on the front step of the pier. It read:

"GOOD LUCK."

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

Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong.

Applebloom reflected on this rather pessimistic thought as she strained her muscles against the ropes holding the sail up. Even her, an earth pony, had trouble fighting the strength of the wind and the tossing sea. All around her, zebras and ponies galloped to and fro, sealing hatches, closing bulkheads, holding down ropes, and on the bridge, Voraloxle and his friend directed all of these actions, yelling orders every which way. Storm clouds gathered above, threatening lighting as the spewed rain in warning. Thunder cracked in the distance, but Applebloom was too occupied manuevering the sail to pay any close attention to where the flashes were. Her hooves and the insides of her legs chafed against the rope, and her teeth gripped a compass tightly. She glanced down at it occasionally to administer strength to the sail to keep it going east.

Out here, in the middle of the ocean, there were no weather teams to control the storms. Chaos reigned here, and while the chaos of biology had some order to it, the ocean was without rhyme or reason. Rainwater spattered along the deck, slapping Applebloom like a whipping branch. And it was cold--far colder than anything Applebloom had ever felt, even the snow of winter in Ponyville. Wind snapped it back and forth, contorting the sail against Applebloom and her valiant compatriots, who kept the ship from going too far off course.

Voraloxle manned the helm, spinning the wheel as his overcoat rolled with the rain. His zebra friend shouted the commands now, mostly telling non essential ponies to duck and cover. Most found shelter under the decks or in the map room, hiding from the storm.

It lasted for what must have been a full day. As the waters calmed and the clouds dispersed, Applebloom dropped to the deck. Her ligaments ached--shoulders burned with pain, and the compass clacked out of her mouth, nearly crushed from the strength of her bite. Even the splintery wood of the midship felt like a cushion of feathers. Her body found rest on the protruding nails and wet lumber.

But, just as she began to relax, a massive thud under the ship threw her up and across, aftward. Her head bonked against the upbound port stair, and she groaned.

"Great."

"Oh, wonderful."

"Man, this is a perfect day."

The sarcastic cries of the understandably tired crewmen sang through Applebloom's ringing ears. Some had been helping her direct the sail, others bailing water out through the day, and possibly the night.The crew under the deck had kept the bulkheads from splitting with pressure.

"Oh, look. A reef," Voraloxle said cheerfully. He conjured up a magical eyeball and sent it underwater. The now-standing Applebloom watched as he concentrated deeply.

Then he said, "Well, the damage isn't too bad, but I don't think we should try and move for the rest of the day. I could probably make repairs, and if necessary I think the combined power of us unicorns," he indicated four crewmen, "we could use telekinesis to float the ship out of the reef."

The ponies groaned at the imagined stress. The Diamond's Destiny was huge. Such a task would be difficult even for Twilight Sparkle herself.

"Well, we've got some extra materials belowdecks. Use that and make the repairs," Varos told Voraloxle.

"Ah. Very good. I'll start immediately." Voraloxle trotted off.

Just then, a thought occured to Applebloom.

"Hey, Captain Varos," she said.

"Yes?"

"Aren't reefs generally near land?"

"Well... generally. I suppose this could be an exception," he still seemed doubtful.

Applebloom found the spyglass after climbing to the crow's nest to confirm or deny her suspicion. Unfolding it to its full length, she stuck an eye at one end and swiveled it around. Nothing. Wait, no... she did see something. Off in the distance, very far to the south. An island. And judging by its size, it was Yorlug Island!

"Land ho!" she called.

Confused and bewildered sailors looked up at her in puzzlement.

"To the south. We overshot it," she said, looking once more. There it was--griffin airships thundered along around it. "I can even see the airships!"

Varos had been climbing up beside her, and jumped into the nest. She hadn't heard him coming up, and she jumped, dropping the spyglass. He caught it, and smiled.

"Tsk, tsk. Be careful with that," he said mockingly, giving a casual knock on the wrist. Looking for himself, he said, "Ah. Of course the griffins would excessively fortify their only hoof--claw?--hold in the West Ocean. Hasn't stopped me from making several 'diplomatic exchanges' with them," he drolled on, "which may or may not have involved firearms, cannons, and blades."

Despite his admission of a criminal past, Applebloom laughed.

"Oh," he said, somewhat surprised yet also slightly frightened. "That... that is a sky chariot squadron," His black stripes seemed to blanch with the color of the skin under his fur. "And that is a Zebra Navy frigate flotilla." he sucked air through his teeth. "Our landing just got a little more difficult, my friend."

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

Celestia floated on long wings beside her war chariots. Dozens of elite troops piled into them, handling spears, crossbows, carbines, whatever they could carry. The more powerful, dedicated spellcaster unicorns had a lighter burden, and only took the knowledge of their advanced magic.

A few pegasi would remain with the chariots after disembark. Should air support be necessary, archers and rifleponies were ready to provide it. Celestia had another moment of brief doubt, but then she knew it again. This show of force was necessary.

And should everything turn to hell, Twilight Sparkle and thirty other unicorns were ready to uncloak the entire Equestrian Navy from its magical veil. This was the last straw the radicals had pulled. Celestia was ready.

For anything.

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

The brush of Yorlug Island swayed in the wind. For a moment, an onlooker just might have seen the tip of a barrel, the point of an arrow. A spear seemed to come into existence as the shadows of the palms drifted across the sands. But even the sharp-eyed Griffin patrols noticed no such disturbances. An entire army aside from the one they expected waited right under their beaks.

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

Voraloxle's magical eyeball had allowed the crew of the Diamond's Destiny to tear away the coral from the underside and replace the wood effectively before a major failure occured. It had taken them most of the rest of the day. The sun was setting straight ahead of the ship, casting a brilliant glow in the eyes of the beholders but blinding Applebloom and the actual spotter enough so that neither of them could see the island.

The crew had decided to make landfall in a rowboat the next day, but as night fell and chill set in, a skeleton watch manned the craft, switching off every couple of hours. Applebloom tossed and turned on the rough seaponies' cot, but finally gave in to pestering Voraloxle.

"Do ya know if we'll find the book here?" she said, a little worried. Despite her supposedly being an adult, she still felt comfort in the knowledge of older ponies like Zecora or Voraloxle.

"I only know what you told me," Voraloxle said, a little bemused. "However, I do believe the final ingredient to Zecora's potion might grow on this island."

Applebloom's heart jumped a bit. "Ya really think so?" she asked cheerfully.

"Yes, I do. But searching for it, the Book of Velnishar, and evading the patrols of all these colliding forces will be difficult to do without sleep," he commented, turning his back to her.

But Applebloom was not satisfied with that. In any case, she couldn't sleep, even on the anchored boat, with only the slight motions of the waves.

"Voraloxle, where did you come from? How do you know Zecora?" she'd been wondering about the smuggler's origins for a time, but she hadn't had the opportunity to voice them.

Voraloxle remained silent. His quiet almost made Applebloom doubt that he was even awake, but then he spoke after an age of nothing.

"I met Zecora one night in a little tavern off the side of the road. She was lovely, more so than even now. Longer mane, too. But she cut it for a reason, which I might tell you about later. So I was making a deal with some guys about a few rare items, the first one after--" he stopped, and it almost sounded like he was choking.

"After what?"

"... let's just say it had been a while." he stayed facing away from her for a few minutes as he continued to talk. "Anyways, I had lost my previous compatriots and was on my own for a while. The others didn't like my price, and it got... physical. Or, almost did. When you could cut the tension with a knife, a young Zebra mare trotted by, sprinkling a fine, almost invisible powder into the drinks. They didn't see it, but I did. After a few more drinks, they were ready to fight. Except they completely collapsed onto the floor.

Now he turned to face her. "I was a scrawny little thing, like you but weaker, and I had no clue how to defend myself aside from the ancient art of street brawling." he laughed at that. "When I talked to her later, she ruined my cocky little ego I had. And it was at that moment that I realized I loved her completely and totally." he stared at the top of his cot onto an empty bunk above him.

He told Applebloom a few of their misadventures together. Applebloom never knew where Zecora had learned her skill in alchemy or combat, and neither did Voraloxle. What he did know was that she taught him a few basic virtues. A little "thieve's honor" as the smuggler put it.

"We had a little cottage on Horseshoe Bay. I did have a legitimate business for a while, as a general craftspony. But that lacked adventure," he said.

When he saw the growing look of suspicion on Applebloom's face, he huffed a bit.

"Okay, yeah, we did it a few times. You'll find someone too, eventually. But Zecora really does look better with a long mane." he remarked.

"And how did she end up in the Everfree Forest?" Applebloom questioned the missing link, but she knew she would get no answer.

Voraloxle did not disappoint. "Another tale for another time. Now is best used to sleep."

Compromised

Zecora cursed her luck and sat down on a bench at the wharf. Not a single ship was leaving for this "Yorlug Island." A massive storm had gathered, and the thunderheads were visible even from here. Some were worried it might form into a hurricane. But Voraloxle had taught Zecora many things about the seas. The currents here were far too cold for such a thing to happen. Yet still, not a single ship in Zebraska Harbor was strong enough to withstand the winds and tossing waves. Well, none that Zecora had looked at.

She still had yet to try and seek passage on the Griffin airship or in that shady shipping company warehouse. Well, more like a utility closet of warehouses--it couldn't have been more than twelve meters across the front. Neither of those options seemed to be what she needed. In fact, Zecora didn't even know if they might be heading to the island.

Thoughts raced in her head. She couldn't just leave Voraloxle and Applebloom, wherever they were. But she had to get to the island so that Voraloxle would help her finish the potion. She was having a breakdown within minutes.

Then, a voice of calm, cool collectedness came to mind. What you need to do is stop thinking, it said. Zecora froze and let the voice in. Now, let's see. You could wait here and try to find your friends. You might also want a little revenge on those men that shot you. And with that, Zecora looked up from her fuddling about and saw three zebras, apparently plainclothes, eyeing her closely. As soon as she looked to them, their heads snapped away. But, rather than waiting here, you could at least begin to try and find passage to this Yorlug.

It might be a trap, the doubtful part of Zecora answered.

True. But if these zebras wanted you dead, they'd have you dead. Clearly, they want or need you to find this book for them. So, you may as well begin to search.

Zecora contemplated her own advice. For a moment more, a wrinkle appeared in her mind. Quickly, she ironed it out and stood on all hooves from the bench. Determined, she set out towards the Griffin airship at the far end of the docks.

Before she got more than ten meters, a dark lump of fur and feathers smacked the ground in front of her with an "Oof!"

Mildly annoyed, Zecora almost continued over the wriggling mass of pony, but something stopped her. The gray pegasus was caught in a net, trying vainly to find the opening, but in the end just tangling itself up more.

"Hold still. I'm going to help you, and I do not want to do you ill," Zecora knelt on one back knee and drew a trapper's knife. The pegasus struggled against the black ropes for a moment more, and then lay still.

With a swift hack and a bout of cutting, the net split, revealing a charcoal-gray pegasus. When the apparent stallion tried to stand, a pair of glasses tumbled to the boardwalk.

"Oh, lucky me. Everything that allows me to see is broken! Perfect!" he said this in a sarcastic, somewhat middle-range voice. He examined the lenses he held in one hoof, grunting as he tried to see if he could fix the problem.

Just then, a large shipping crate tumbled off the ship next to Zecora and bonked off of the head of the pegasus.

"Ow."

A burly zebra called over the edge of the ship. "You're fired, dumbass!"

"And I just lost my job! Boy, this day is goin' swell."

He appeared to be intrinsicly sarcastic. Zecora fished through her saddlebags and drew out a flask.

"You say your eyesight is poor? Drink this, and you may see some more," the Zebra said, handing the skin off to the pony. He promptly opened the cap and let a drop slip off the lip and onto the cobblestone. The red liquid sat there rather uneventfully.

"Not corrosive, and red means that it's not Juurl's Poison... Okay," he muttered, apparently checking to see if the contents were what Zecora claimed them to be. Taking a gulp from the flask, his eyes watered and his brow raised. "Wow, that is... strong." He blinked, and then focused. "Hey, thanks... that's actually pretty neat. Almost brightened my day," he said in a somewhat cheerful tone.

"I sell it in Ponyville. For four weeks, your eyes will be treated to quite the thrill. It only works on those whose eyes oppose the sights of near, but not of far."

The pony flicked the flask with a fetlock. "So there's a chemical in here that can stretch your cornea and strengthen your retina? Why doesn't everybody use this?"

"Everybody? As I am aware, it is everpony, or everyzebra," Zecora explained her befuddlement.

"Well, more than just zebras or just ponies or just griffins have eye problems, so you use the correct pronoun," the pegasus answered.

"You are learned, and also it seems earnest. Most ponies cannot brew that special concoction. At least, not without failure. I am a trained alchemist, with a long tenure," Zecora said, "and I do not give out the recipe."

"Good for business, then," the pegasus said.

"Very much so, though some think it is low. If I may ask, what is your name and what is your task?"

The charcoal pegasus rolled his shoulders and flapped his wings, launching him into the air momentarily. "My name is Arcade Gannon, born in Fillydelphia. I was wealthy once, and I have a degree in biomedical research from the FIM. I had received a full scholarship there. You can see how I'm making my money's worth," he glanced at the ship and clicked his tongue. "So, where are you off to?" he asked Zecora.

"Well, if you insist, I am trying to get to Yorlug Island, a task on which I still persist." Zecora said, trying to get by Gannon. He was fine, but she had business to attend to.

"Yorlug Island? You do realize that there is a huge storm out there right now? I'm actually surprised that the Griffins haven't even tried to clear it, but, y'know, they'll do what they do." he shrugged nonchalantly.

Suddenly, thought came to being in Zecora's mind. He was just what she needed to find--transport.

"My friend Gannon, I must ask how well you fly, at the speed of the turtle or velocity of the cannon," Zecora said.

Arcade cocked his head. "You speak all in rhymes. Huh," he paused. "Well, I'm actually not half bad a flier. I have great speed and decent endurance, and was recommended to be on Fillydelphia's weather team except--" he stopped. "Wait a minute..."

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

"No. Nah. Nope. Nada. Not happening. I say nay. Challenge de-cliiiined," Gannon shook his head back and forth, trying to say no. "I'd prefer to, you know, not die in a storm of lightning and hellfire. Because the main reason you don't touch wild storm clouds is because they shock you into oblivion and burn your skull from your brain."

Zecora paused in thought for a moment. "Might you have oil at your home? I also will need meat that won't spoil, and I'd assume you might have a chemistry tome."

"Uh, yeah," Gannon said, "I have all of those back at my apartment in the city." He stayed quiet for a little while. "Wait... oh no. That's not going to work. Zecora, you can't just... do that. I took several organic chemistry classes at the Fillydelphia Institute of Medicine. I know what I'm talking about."

Zecora nodded in agreement. "And I am an alchemist."

"It's not going to work."

"You saw the effects of the earlier potion yourself. That one was even beneficial to your health."

"Yeah, but just because one thing is one way doesn't mean another thing is the other way. If that makes any sense to you," Gannon said, appearing flustered.

"Okay. But do you not trust what I say? Think of this, Arcade: I have done this before, and then I wasn't even paid!"

"Yeah, well..." Arcade Gannon mumbled off some argument but realized that she probably had some experience too. "Okay, fine. Have it your way. As long as you teach me how to make that eye potion!"

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

Y'know, if you wanted rubber on my hooves, I could just wear boots," Gannon suggested as he watched Zecora stir the concoction in a brewing pot.

"A simple covering is not enough. Ingestion is the only way to make you tough."

Gannon's features tightened. "That sounded both sexual, sadistic, and completely insensible all at once." He briefly pondered how she managed to do that, and concluded that she was a master of the art of language. And subtle innuendos.

Zecora tapped the mortar on the side of the pot and looked cautiously at the black, soupy compound. She put on oven mitts from the table and carried the pot over to a beaker, and after pouring it into the beaker it entered a tightly sealed aluminum flask.

"You're asking me to consume boiling rubber," Gannon stated matter-of-factly when Zecora shoved the thing under his mouth. He sniffed it by wafting the air towards his nose with a hoof. "Actually, it smells pretty good..." he cocked his head in confusion.

Zecora waited, her features patient, while Arcade studied the mush in every way possible. Finally, after exhausting all five of his senses and even going so far as to pour it into the sink, he took a deep breath and tossed the liquid into the back of his throat. It didn't burn; in fact, it felt rather cool. Refreshing, almost. He handed the flask back to the zebra and flexed his wings, flying around. He turned on the faucet of the sink, washing away the potion. He scooped the water into a cup and started to focus on bringing it into a small cloud. A white puff came into being as the clear liquid spiraled up into the air. He bucked it once, and it turned black. He balanced his front hooves on the table, fluttering with his wings, and bucked again, harder. The cloud made the sound of crackling thunder. Zecora watched in curiousity, appearing to Gannon only mildly interested. That disappointed him.

Carefully and slowly, Arcade, slipped a charcoal hoof into the cloud, waiting for the inevitable sting that always came with lighting.

It never shocked him.

He pushed his hand in and out of the cloud, swirled it around even. Nothing.

"How does that even..." Arcade's eyes squinted. "Whaaaaaat. Alright, Zecora, I guess this means I trust you."

Zecora shuffled forward, taking off the oven mitts as she went. "If that is so, and I believe it is, why did you leave Fillydelphia like so? How could one such as you end up getting hit by a crate and nearly split in two?" she said, her accent coming through her rhymes.

"Well, I sort of... ran away." Arcade admitted slowly. Not like he was afraid of revealing it, but as he was looking to remember the name of a distant cousin. He tried to hide this effect to the best of his abilites, but to his dismay it was not enough.

"There is more to it, the knowledge belonging to a deeper pit." Zecora responded.

Arcade bit his lower lip. "Well, maybe, but I have no reason to share that information with you."

Zecora's eyes turned to a fake sadness. "But I thought you trusted me? Or was that just the tea?" Zecora pointed to the liquified rubber compound.

"It wasn't nearly as good as tea," Arcade replied, "but still, would you want to be related to some anti-Celestia facist paramilitary organization?" He realized he'd said too much and held his tongue further.

"A past renounced is a past that never occurred at all, and you are free from it at last." Zecora said in an insightful tone. Arcade sighed with relief. She didn't care after all.

But wait--how was he going to carry her?

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

"Get down."

The whisper slipped through the crashing waves, sliding through Applebloom's ears. She crouched low to the sand as a spotlight rolled over her position in the predawn light. It didn't catch her, though. Her body was nestled against a ridge, melting into the shadow. Voraloxle ahead of her did the same, his neck and back arching and twisting to appear natural.

As the whoosh of the airship's fans slowly faded, the two ponies rose to a kneel. Applebloom reached into her bags and pulled out a white bottle. She drank from it and gave it to Voraloxle, who did the same. Potions of invisibility were always useful to have on hoof. Especially when you were on an island crawling with griffins, ponies, and zebras on chains ready to be released and to tear each others' throats out.

Applebloom and Voraloxle sailed through the brush, weaving with the plants and through the grounds towards the center of the island. Aiships with spotlights roved the area, causing more than one close call and inspiring a spike in heart rate. The foggy, predawn light only made matters worse; the pair could barely see, even with some magical and alchemical enhancements. Luckily, the potion made them hard to pick out from the flora.  Their blurred outlines remained, though, along with footprints, adding a layer of difficulty.

The two stopped at a road, waiting for a group of soldiers to pass. However, a rustling sound very nearly gave Applebloom away. She turned slowly and saw two griffins immediately behind her, and one in the air, sailing around with a battle harness. As quietly as she could, she shoved Voraloxle forward through the patrol in front of them.

He just barely stepped on a griffin's swaying tail.

The yelp of alarm sent Applebloom springing into action, drawing knives. Two were thrown in an instant, three more buried in feathers. A final blade spun up into the air, catching the overwatch and bringing him to the ground with a thud. Applebloom took a second to count--that was only six. Where was--

A warhammer snapped through the air, crushing her right ribcage and knocking the wind out of her. Voraloxle had not fired for fear that the sound of weapon discharges would bring the enemy upon them. At this point, he realized that letting the griffins away meant they were already compromised.

Two burning streaks of hot lead rocketed to their targets, sound cascading around for a good, long distance. The bullets dropped both griffins in moments, but a siren's wail called and an airship fluttered overhead. Applebloom watched and heard all this in slow motion, half-unconscious from the blow and her resulting flight into the sheer cliff on her left. Voraloxle grabbed her unceremoniously, throwing her over his shoulders. Bouncing along on her companion's back, Applebloom could hear the shouts of soldiers and confused commanders. Through her daze, she could not decipher meaning. She did, however, understand one thing.

She was so screwed.

Losing Control

Twilight Sparkle kept her eyes closed as the flow of magic energy left her. Its faint hum boomed through her ears. The ship swayed under her and the wizards' magic curtain of invisibility. The gentle rocking soothed her, stopping the burning pain in her horn from pervading her body. However, the exhaustion was still taking its toll. The thirty unicorns (spaced evenly across the fleet) were pouring every ounce of strength they had to stop the shield from faltering.

The lavender unicorn once more considered her mentor's parting words. Sometimes, Twilight, you need firepower. And when you need firepower, you need a lot of it. True, perhaps, but Twilight still wondered whether or not they really needed an entire fleet of twenty of Equestria's best steam vessels on the line. After all, this was a peace summit. Well, more like a ransom. Held on the relatively neutral ground of Yorlug, an island controlled by griffins between the zebras and ponies.

A nudge shook her from her quiet meditations. "Hey, I'm here," a male voice called. She felt a surge of power entering her field, and left the replacement mage to his work. The stallion was a warped blue-on-white color, the pattern reversed on his mane and tail. His magenta robe covered most of his body, but Twilight still picked out some details. The stallion quickly covered his head with the enchanted hood, visibly growing the stream of energy.

Twilight had been the longest of the five unicorns on the flagship without a break. Not because she was capable in her endurance, but rather because somepony else might have done her job wrong. The starting incantation had to be spot on or the entire effect might have been ruined.

Picking a comfortable spot on the steel deck of the Midnight Watch, Twilight sat herself down and waited. The ships were almost at their destination now, a little behind the princess' chariots. Yorlug island was visible about a mile out through the one-way mirror effect of the shield. A shiver ran through her body. Twilight did not want a war, of course, because from her studies they tended to be morally gray areas and generally ended with many innocent deaths; yet, she still found the whole concept rather... exciting. She'd fought before, of course, during the Shadow War--when the changelings had attacked Canterlot. After which she had immediately studied and practiced the martial arts developed by ponykind throughout the centuries. In that case, her books were her mentor. Theory and some application was good enough for her.

After a short sprint, the ships settled into the natural harbor on Yorlug's east side. The cannons of the fleet focused on the island, loaded with enchanted shells of never-ending fire. That was when Twilight's excitement started to dim; close combat was vigourous and intense, but as she began to imagine being shelled more and more, the thought of a war slowly became less and less enticing. Unsurprisingly, the thought of being cooked alive was not a plus to the unicorn.

The predawn gray began to fade away as Luna raised the sun in place of her sister. It was beautiful, the way the colors mixed in a blend of wonder.

Then the sirens went off.

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

Princess Celestia's horn glowed a bright yellow with power. Her guards lined up their weapons, sharp edges, rounded barrels, and flaming arrows all pointed in different directions. The zebras were in a similar formation, and the griffins were prepared for a fight. One lone lion-bird listened to a magical communications device. He was in the middle, the line of fire in the standoff. The young griffin spoke with one of his airborne bretheren, who was surveying the scene, as alarm klaxons wailed for attention. He was harried and out of breath.

"Can you see them? Why not? How many? Dead or injured? Both. Okay. Don't panic, send everyone to their positions and prepare. There might be more of them. Echo, Delta, and Omega will be sent out to find the intruders. It's not overkill, they took out a whole patrol! Find them and apprehend them. If not, lethal force is authorized." He turned to his commander, Colonel Strongwing. "Sir, we have a patrol and overwatch Alpha down. Casevac is there and we have multiple squads searching. A few are being sent out to scout for landing craft."

Strongwing put a wing on his comrade's shoulder. "Good job, son. Get to overwatch with Cromley." The younger griffin nodded and saluted with a wing, then took off to the blue skies. Strongwing turned to the assembled. "Sorry, everyone. Intruders were spotted, but we don't know who they are. I ask that you all return to your vessels while we sort this out."

Celestia was not going to let this slide. "If you'd wait for just a moment, Strongwing," she hissed through her teeth, neglecting the griffin's formal title. She disappeared in a yellow haze of mist.

The princess cast a detection spell and found the perpetrators in moments. Her ethereal form snapped to their location in a cave. The hazy gas gathered again and she was solid once more. A floating magical light came into being in front of her. As she saw the two ponies in front of her, she realized how deep they were in... well...

Shit. Though the Princess was loathe to swear out loud, her thoughts were sometimes  uncivilized. Voraloxle and Applebloom, two ponies she knew. The former of which she was less than pleasant with. How they had come together she had only a slight inkling of, but what she did know was that Applebloom was unconscious and Voraloxle was a pirate. Bad combo.

Beginning a spell, Celestia dropped into a strong stance and poured energy into her horn. Within a few seconds, both of the ponies in front of her and Celestia herself were nothing more then a glowing, disembodied shape. A teleport found all three of them back in the meeting room at the top of the mountain base.

"I have them, Strongwing. No need to get your feathers in a jumble," she said, remaining as serious as she could. A little bit of reverse psychology couldn't hurt.

To his credit, the Colonel kept a straight face. His men, however, were practically in awe. She had negated their entire system inside thirty seconds. Inside, she giggled. They'd forgotten who they were dealing with. Celestia's humble side grumbled at her growing arrogance, but allowed it for the time being.

Strongwing motioned one of his men forward. "Alright then, we'll take them into custody so the meet can continue."

Celestia pulled Applebloom back like a mother with a child. "Not so fast," she replied, "but you can have him."

By this point, Voraloxle had woken from the stupor inflicted by the ethera spell and bounced back between the now lowered weapons of the ponies and zebras, drawing his revolvers, which promptly brought blade and sight to him.

"Your Highness," he said with mock grace, "I believe you might have had a tad much hard cider. I don't think you know what you're doing." he put on a face of mock concern.

Celestia gave her best I-am-not-amused look, one honed over millenia of negotiations, and said, "Don't get coy with me, pirate. I have all the cards here." Her glare would have pierced the souls of regular ponies.

Voraloxle smirked under his hat and clinked his boots. "Not quite. You forgot the joker." With that, his cloak whipped, and his revolver was replaced with a book. "You should remember next time that I am a very good pickpocket."

A gasp ran through the assembled. Celestia remained calm, while the zebra councilor and Strongwings' eyes grew wide. "The Book of Velnishar," she said blankly. "How ever did you come across it?"

"Oh, it was just lying around behind a few guards. Snagged it on my way to that cave. Too easy." Voraloxle flipped open the chamber of his remaining revolver and pushed rounds in from his bandolier. "Pathetic, considering it basically contains the fate of the entire world and how to make it all happen."

Celestia growled. At this time, all the weapons were focused on the pony. He looked at his fetlock as if checking a watch. "Oops, it appears that I am running late." With that, he disappeared in a flash of smoke. Celestia cast her life-detect spell, but among the commotion, nothing stood out.

The soldiers of all three factions bore up arms. The siren wailed again.

"He's working for you!" the zebra councilor said, pointing a hoof at her, though for her life Celestia could not remember his name. "Zebras, arrest them!"

That was too far. In any other circumstances she might have been more lenient, but Celestia was done playing around. First, they threatened her with Velnishar's book himself. Then they decided that they'd try to lure her here. She wasn't sure where the griffins stood on the issue, but for now she'd leave them out unless they shot at her. But the zebras? They wanted to fight a queen.

But they'd get a goddess.

A primal roar of anger escaped her jaw and Celestia sent a tumbling wave of magical energy rippling through the air that sent the zebras flying back, a few hitting the support spars of the platform, and one or two tumbling over the edge entirely and down the middle peak of Yorlug island. The rest crashed to the ground, stopping short of the cliff.

"Stop this madness!" Strongwing said as the zebras recovered and started to fire their weapons at the ponies. A magical shield was more than enough to stop them from hitting her troops. In fact, the bullets were turned around, and bounced back, even as the zebras levered their carbines. The veritable storm of metal ripped through them, tearing flesh and sending Celestia's attackers pirouetting to the ground. A few remained, and though not a single shot had been fired from the ponies' side, the zebras cowered in fear.

Colonel Strongwing stepped in front of the fuming Celestia and her guards. "Your Highness, please. More violence is not going to help here," he said, trying to placate her.

She held the shield for a few more seconds, then, with a weary sigh, dropped it. "Lower your weapons, ponies." Celestia returned to her normal, calm and regal state. She'd practically lost it there. Part of her mind berated her even as she heard the deep, bass thump of artillery in the distance.

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

Twilight and the unicorns had long since abandoned the invisibility shields, and those who were not exhausted ran with her to the edge of the battleship. Crewponies dodged out of the way and continued to load shells onto the smaller external  guns. The massive 107 millimeter cannons pumped fire at the zebra fleet. As Twilight neared the edge, she put more speed into her stride. With a leap, all six unicorns flew overboard, and subsequently disappeared into purple smoke.

With a puff of light, the long-range teleport spat the ponies a few feet off the platform's edge. Their forward momentum threw them over and they skidded across the metallic floor, some more elegantly than others. Twilight, who was used to the teleport, rolled to her hooves. The others were slightly... less composed. Vomit ejected from their throats as they reeled.

Luckily, the platform was open to the outdoors and Twilight had had a visual sightline to target. Before her, the Princess was turned, eyes agleam with a sudden fear as she saw the shells bombard the zebra fleet. As soon as she saw Sparkle, however, her face became the same calm and welcoming glance that Twilight had seen the first time she'd met the Princess.

"Your Highness! Are you all right?" Twilight blurted. "We came as soon as we saw the muzzle flashes but we weren't fast enough and the zebras and our ships are fighting and--"

Celestia cut her off. "Deep breaths, my faithful student. We must stop this conflict before any more undue damage is done." She turned to her vessels. "Twilight Sparkle? Get me to my ship." She picked Applebloom up in between her teeth by the scruff of her neck.

Twilight realized she had been shivering. From exhaustion or whatever else, she did not know. The mare forcibly controlled herself and focused once more. Shimmering light engulfed the entire party. She'd never done this many extra-teleports at once, but she knew that she could at least try.

With a zip and a flash, they were gone.

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

Zecora had given Gannon a temporary strength enhancement via a potion, but she wasn't sure if that was enough. After this, she swore to herself that she'd have to give him something besides that sight drink recipe.

"You owe me big time, Zecora," Gannon said through clenched teeth as her basket swayed below his pumping wings. His hooves pushed away the clouds around them, and not a single shock travelled through his body.

"Do not worry so early, my friend," she rhymed, "for you will be paid very well in the end! Though for now, we have other matters to attend."

"I really hope that wasn't an innuendo." he replied, once more straining against the makeshift basket harness. He couldn't fly below the clouds for fear of lightning and stronger winds, so he flew through them. And when he didn't need to see, above them, though they both found that air harder to breathe.

Zecora could feel his pain and see it too. Gannon would falter, then just as quickly rebuff the hurt and surge onward. This cycle continued for what seemed like forever--thankfully, since they were flying, they moved much faster than any ship.

The duo dropped suddenly below the clouds.

"Arcade? Is your strength beginning to fade?" Zecora asked, trying to hide the hint of anxiety in her voice.

"Uh, yeah, kinda--URGH!" He grunted and they fell again towards the water. "Iamgoingtodieiamgoingtodie--RR!" Gannon clenched his teeth and struggled to keep them in the air. They passed into the cloud again, but this time, a sharp zap rang through Zecora's ears.

Oh no.

"AHHH!" Arcade convulsed, twisting the harness . The rope threatened to snap, but he fought back the fit and became content with chattering his teeth. They plunged downward at a frightening pace.

Zecora was immediately plunged into a state of anxiety and panic. They were falling, fast, and climbing up wasn't going to help them; neither would smashing into the cold waters below.

"Stay calm, my friend, and see us through to the end!" Zecora said to the stallion abover her, forcing herself to breathe deeply and practice what she preached to her flyer. He flapped his wings, stabilizing the pair mentally and physically. They continued to descend, but the angle was far less steep.

Zecora looked down to the blue waters, watching as they turned green with plant life. A--she did a double take--reef? Quickly, she glanced eastward and, squinting, found a growing mote of dry land on the horizon. She inhaled sharply, and could not help feeling just slightly elated on the inside. Okay, maybe a little more than slightly. Getting there, after all, would end all most of the business she had here, and she could return home.

"Look, my friend! The journey's end!" she cried to Arcade.

He lazily swung his head up and, in a daze of exhaustion. Groggy eyelids cracked open to the sight of Yorlug. Immediately, Zecora noticed a change in his posture. His wings straightened, his muscles tightened, and a new vigor seemed to enter him. Pumping more furiously with each beat, the feathery appendages on Gannon's sides buffetted Zecora with wind. Gannon sailed into the rising sun, focused on the landmass straight in front of him.

Zecora's warning barely reached him in time.

A mass of metal and cloth appeared before him, and he snapped his wings closed and plunged down to avoid what he realized was an airship. Zecora was held in, upside down, to the small carriage by the sheer speed of the drop and the tension in the rope between harness and basket. That didn't do a whole lot to stop her vomit, which dropped out behind them as they continued down.

Gannon picked up again on the other side of the craft. That was bad--if they had seen Zecora, she'd lost all hope of a secretive entry. For a moment, she thought Gannon had been killed when she heard the loud, staccato thump of a shipborne cannon. Her suspicion doubled when Gannon tumbled down, his momentum too slow to keep them flying. A sharp crack split the air, and where Zecora thought she would inhale water, she saw wood.

A blood-stained feather was the last sight she saw before she lost consciousness on the deck of the vessel.

Secrets Revealed, Questions Asked

A rift in space shimmered into existence over the Midnight Watch. With a pop and a flash of energy, several unicorns and the Princess Celestia herself were transported onto the deck. Or rather, a few yards above it.

After recovering from the slight drop, the group stood. Celestia took the lead, but paused, as a farmer pauses to dust a locust from his crop.

"Princess? Should we not stop the attack?" one of the unicorns asked uncertainly. The Princess, however, continued to stare into space away from the island, as if a mesmerizing artifact was at the aft of the ship.

"Princess?"

"Continue to fire. Switch to incendiary rounds, aim for their bridges." the Princess said mechanically, confidently striding to the command tower of the battleship.

Twilight Sparkle raced after her mentor in an anxious trot. "Princess! We can't just kill them! It was a mistake, a misunderstanding!" she begged. She normally didn't have to lower herself to that level around her ruler, but she felt it necessary.

Princess Celestia looked over her tall shoulder at the lavender unicorn panting behind her, looking with pleading eyes of kindness and compassion. One who easily made friends. The alicorn seemed to impatiently quicken her stride. "Press the attack."

Twilight shook her head in defiance, but the princess had already gone. Something was wrong here, majorly wrong. Whenever she could avoid it, Celestia did not kill. In fact, Twilight never remembered her ever sentencing a single pony to execution. Was it that damnable book everypony was talking about?

Beyond her simple doubt lay a deeper fear. Was Celestia being controlled? And if so, who was doing it? Maybe that pony that had escaped with the book. She thought back to the black-velvet coat and wide, feathered hat, the shimmering cloak, and robust revolvers. Then there was the secondary conundrum of Applebloom. Twilight recalled that she was out on the zebra continent with Zecora to help pacify trade relations... something almost forgotten once the threat came. That still left the question to be asked--what had happened to Zecora?

Dozens of variables crossed through the lavender unicorn's mind as she made her way back to where Celestia had dropped Applebloom after the teleport. The young mare slept amazingly soundly on the hard steel of the deck. First things first--Applebloom needed somewhere safe. Twilight's hoof brushed the bubbling-potion and cider mug cutie mark. One more reminder that this pony was no longer a filly.

Grabbing her by the neck with her teeth, Twilight carried her friend's sister belowdecks to the bunks. Finding her sleeping chambers, Twilight gently let the earth pony down onto the rough naval cot. Soft breath warmed the unicorn's hoof as she left.

But still, what to do about the fight? The thundering of the cannons sped Twilight's trot, pushing her to the greatest velocity she could muster in the tight, claustrophobic corridors of the Midnight Watch. One more round and a long, bloody war was inevitable. Clambering onto the top deck, she ran to the command tower. She had to stop this. If anyone could stand up to this possibly mind controlled, possibly impostered Celestia, it was the third most powerful being on Equus.

Turning a latch and pushing open the monstrously heavy door, the unicorn pushed through into the stairwell. Ascending as quickly as possible, she made it to the third-floor bridge inside twenty seconds. In any other circumstances, she might have had time to be proud of her stamina.

At the present, however, a planet needed saving from a world at war. The bridge was already open, presumably to help carry orders to the lower sections of the command tower. Inside, a thin slit of window was permitted above the numerous, clunky arcane instruments. Crewponies dashed about, marking targets, calling in fire, and in general directing the fleet.

"Celestia!" Twilight cried, spying her teacher presiding over the ship. A hope filled her. Maybe she could end this after all.

"You will address me as 'Your Highness', subject! Treat your leader with respect!" the Princess responded in an uncharacteristic and harsh tone.

Twilight shook her head, at a loss for words. Somepony she considered a second mother had just denounced her as nothing. It was her true place, certainly, but Princess Celestia was never like that, not even in public. Again, Twilight's thoughts drifted to the book. Did it have some magical power that was influencing the Princess? With that in mind, she made a careful note to avoid conflict.

"You have to stop this. A conflict is only going to make things worse, Tia!" she said, attempting to break through to Celestia's good side.

(Music: here)

The Princess' eyes grew dark, her features twisted into a deep scowl. "No one. Calls. Me. Tia." the captain, Spinning Torrent, had a confused look on his face. Twilight knew him, and hoped he would see sense. The crew stopped their duties and stared. "As you were. I can handle this wretch," Celestia snapped, and almost out of fear, the mares and stallions coordinated the battle. It was a vicious, biting remark, like a well-sharpened dagger. The alicorn of the sun never spoke that way. At that point, the thought of the book was almost out of the question for Twilight. She had faith in text, but a piece of paper couldn't bring down a being like the Princess. So who stood before her?

One thing was certain. This was not Celestia. This was not Twilight's queen. And this most certainly was not the leader of the fine pony nation Equestria. After a few moments of silent contemplation under the eyes of the Midnight Watch's crew, she found an answer.

This was a monster.

A glow gathered at the base of Twilight's horn, snaking its way to the top. A more fierce, brute energy flashed in Celestia. Her brow narrowed further at her student. Twilight still held back, a hinting shadow of doubt inkling into her mind and stopping her from fighting the pony she thought of as a second mother. As such, Celestia struck first, a pure blast of energy that Twilight almost didn't stop. The magic seemed to cure the unicorn of any hesitation. Celestia would never attack her--this was a changeling, or some other imposter. And Celestia was careful, not some bumbling, brute oaf.

With the faint sound of snapping fingers, a wisp of light snuck off the purple horn, wrapping through the air and writhing like a reptile. It bit at the Celestia-changeling, who deflected the probe with a strike of her own, a more forceful cross of magic that nearly broke Twilight's tough stance.

Teleporting behind the alicorn, Twilight unleashed another whip of heat. This time, it connected, brutally and painfully cracking against the goddess' neck and wrapping around it. The Princess waited for a few seconds as the rope of light tightened, and with a turbulent shake snapped it like an icicle, unleashing an aura of stored magical energy that Twilight was unfortunate enough to be caught in. It sent her tumbling into the map table in the middle of the room, sending charts spilling everywhere.

Remembering her original goal, the lavender unicorn rolled onto her hooves, but not facing the opponent--she refused to think of it as the mare she knew and loved--and instead shattered steel with a rumble of light, a magical orchestra of power cascading through the bulkhead and tearing through the side of the bridge tower. The crewponies scattered--it was not worth it to stay and watch the fight. Spinning Torrent, however, held his ground. He glanced at Twilight, who was facing the gaping hole in the wall looking over the ship.

"I got your back," he said, a calm, simple reassurrance. One of many qualities Twilight saw as defining leadership, and one reason that she liked him.

However, she couldn't bring herself to put him in danger. Turning around, Twilight replied, "Get out of this, Spin. This isn't your battle."

He grunted with determination, "It's as much mine as yours. For Equestria."

"Traitorous fool!" the alicorn spat, forgoing magic for a straight charge. The captain was almost gored by the 16-inch horn. A quick evasion turned the maddened queen to the unicorn and pegasus, now side by side.

Twilight threw up a forcefield in front of them as a sizzling beam of magic cut a swath of destruction through the bridge, ending at the glittering lavender gate. The sheer force moved Twilight back a few inches, but she settled onto her back legs, stemming the tide.

The captain called down to his ponies of the deck. "Turn the guns to the bridge and fire! Now!" The cannons had stopped when the bulkhead blew out, and dozens had left their posts to examine the conflict. Even though smoke and haze blocked the view, the sailors new better than to reject the captain's order, especially now. The ship could function, if barely, without the monolithic tower, and preventing a takeover from taking place was first priority. It was probably a good thing that they didn't know they were firing on Celestia.

With a scrape of hooves on steel, the lavender unicorn found herself at the breaking point. She could dimly hear the guns cranking angrily at the awkward angle. If she cut her field at just the right moment, she thought that--

Thump. BOOM.

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

A deep, throbbing sensation woke Applebloom. Her head ached, and there was nothing but fire on her right side. She wanted to scream, but her throat was cracked and dry, like an ancient rock barely holding against the sandstorm of pain. The yellow mare popped her eyes open and looked around, momentarily ignoring the crook in her neck.

A magical light flickered on and off, not helping to orient Applebloom. The faintest trickle of water came from somewhere beyond the cot she found herself on. Steel walls came through the shifting darkness, and a matte-gray bulkhead lined her side.

Taking a risk, she slid a hoof off of her basic bedding and onto the floor. Well, almost. Ice cold water met Applebloom's touch, a spike of chill to heat. Her snap reaction of drawing her left hind leg set off a stream of expletives. Applebloom rolled around, bonking her head on the bunk above her and slipping.

The water was not quite deep enough to have covered her entirely when she hit the floor. The ship--or what she thought was a ship, at least--listed dangerously down to the left. The ominous creak of metal brought more uncertainty to the near silence, but Applebloom found her scrambling hooves in the liquid. A shift in the vessel sent her tumbling forward into and past a row of bunks, bringing more bruises to her skin. The light went out again, naturally just as the mare was crossing the sleeping quarter's threshold. A slight rise caught her hoof, once more tossing her. Once more, the craft tumbled, and Applebloom did a midair pirouette, landing on the other side of the corridor, shivering, agonized, in darnkness.

Slowly and with the utmost of care, she rose. Hooves trembling, she made her way down the hall, taking care when a door came up to meet her. At least she was going up.

After about twenty minutes of stumbling around the ship, a stairwell led to a final hatch, marked DECK. Applebloom calmed her frayed nerves with deep breathing. Fumbling up here and getting herself killed was not going to help.

The crank was rusted and oily from hundreds of hooves brushing it every day, like an overused idiom in bad poetry. A rather significant amount of force had to be applied to shift it, but the earth pony threw it open. Tumblers released, clanking. Applebloom gave herself a moment of inner triumph. Finally, she'd be getting ou--

The door opened, and water poured in. Not really pouring--more crashing. The mare was thrust under the surface. Gagging, coughing, trying to breathe. Not working. Panic seized her, and while a chunk of her mind fought it off, the rest mashed together, as would dozens of potatoes. Applebloom's brain was a jumbled, incoherent mess of confusion.

She was running out of air. Only water. Black crept at the edges of her vision, threatening to break through the walls of her will. The yellow pony closed her eyes in silent submission...

...when a hoof wrapped around her own, pulling, yanking, tearing. The sunlight of the early morning met her eyes as she dropped from the conscious world. She managed to cough and suck in a single breath before exhaustion found its hold.

Tactical Withdrawal

The wood was damp with blood.

Gannon's blood, to be precise. A lot of it. Smeared in ugly blotches, feathers and patches of fur adrift among the drying liquid. Zecora heard him cough; a loud, terribly raucous wheezing that came with more fluids.

As she opened her eyes, she realized it wasn't all his.

Tiny, pebble-sized incisions covered her stomach, a clawed-and-polka dot hand of marks reaching up to the shoulder and the nape of her neck. The stripes of her fur grew red, as did her vision. The last thing the zebra saw as she blacked out once more was a silent, jeweled boot over a dark hoof.

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

A splinter dug into her back as she woke, causing her to arch her spine and cry in pain. The wooden table under her thumped as she came down, paralyzed with agony. The impact did not help. Lances of fire chilled to a snowy wind in her veins. That was a sedative, though in her dull state, she could not place the name.

"You're up," a voice said. Not just any voice; his voice. She was almost angry at Voraloxle as she stared into that cocky, charming smile.

"You were almost too easy to find after you left me behind," Zecora criticized him, seeing again why she had loved him, but also why she left.

The dark pony shrugged. "I guess I wasn't doing my job, then, was I?" he tilted his neck. Wisps of silver hair tumbled over his eyes, a bright light over a veil of hidden grief.

"A legitimate business you do not run," Zecora replied. "It is hardly your duty to have fun." The memory of the past days drifted back to her through the sedative--dreamleaf, that was it. "Where is Applebloom? I hope she has her own room," Zecora continued, not wanting the still-young mare with the pirates and sailors she was sure were aboard.

Voraloxle tensed, his mouth tightening into a thin line. Zecora remembered that expression--his response to being accused of wrongdoing, and also when he had bad news. Both of those had come surprisingly often in his life. "She's with Celestia. We're already a ways away from Yorlug, but I got what I came for and what you needed. I can tell you the whole story later."

Zecora stopped herself from speeding a reply. "And what of Gannon, my faithful companion?" she looked around to see if the gray pegasus was anywhere to be seen.

Voraloxle looked at her, eyes in confilct. She knew that look, when he was deciding whether to lie or not. The fires of hatred, confusion, and sadness attacked each other evidently through those purple irises.

"He's doing... okay," he finally answered, still searching for words. "Not in the best of shape, actually, but I think he'll be fine."

Zecora sprang up, disregarding her pain and the stitches. Fresh blood began to ooze out of a broken scab. "I need to see him," she pleaded as Voraloxle tried to force her back onto the slab. She gave in for a moment, then slipped behind his grip. "You needn't worry of my aching limbs."

The dark pony stood there for a solid minute, gaze unmoving, eyes focused and determined. Zecora gave the smuggler points for effort, but he finally gave in to her.

"Go," he said, with an urgent, sharp, whispered tone. "Quickly now, to the deck. Be careful," he added as she stormed out of the room.

Zecora knew this ship. She kept only the knowledge of its layout in her working mind. The past she left alone, a quiet beast in the dark, ready and waiting to break the lock on its fragile cage.

A few flights of stairs later, and she found herself in the glimmering sunlight. Noon. The zebra had been out for quite a time. That thought pressed her on to the scene she watched unfold. The doctor was there. Falling Star--the deep blue fur of the pegasus was tinged a little darker as blood splattered on him. His eyes were red, his muscles taut.

"More bandages," he ordered, calm and cool. Like she had taught him. "I need tweezers, now." The materials found their way into his steady hooves. The unicorn beside him was casting an equivalent exchange spell. Quite a feat, and according to Twilight a difficult one. Spare nuts and bolts on the deck turned into pure energy and then into blood, red and rather ominous while levitating. The globs of hemoglobin found their way into a bag and down a tube leading into Gannon, who was completely knocked out and soaked with blood. Zecora slid down beside Falling Star. Without missing a beat, she examined the wound and could just see the shrapnel embedded in the flesh.

"Crew, in my saddlebags I have several enchanted rags. There is also a red bottle of healing potion, below the skin lotion. Fetch these things," Zecora barked at the watching crew members, who scrambled to help. One remained, however.

"Zecora, one of the bags broke when you fell. Thought you should know," he said to her cooly.

"No matter. Find the other, and without too much clatter!"

Falling Star didn't look up. "Shrapnel. Cannon. Both of you. Him, serious. You, not so much," the doctor's assistant said. No wasting time.

Zecora nodded and examined a group of holes below the left wing. The punctures were shallow, but oozed pus and blood. That was extremely bad--an infection would make things far worse. She did her best to remove the bits of flak, but it had been quite a while since she'd done any doctoring. After all, Ponyville had a doctor with an actual license. Probably.

With most of the infectious goo out, Zecora wrapped the wound with the plentiful supply of bandages next to her. She performed similar acts on other sites.

The fifth time she reached for the bandages, they were gone.

Her hoof caught multiple splinters and dust clouded her vision as an artillery shell exploded, wracking the vessel. The whistle of another coming in filled her ringing ears.

"HARD TO PORT!" the captain, Varos, yelled, running for the wheel. The second shot hit wide, splashing into the water and detonating on the surface. Zecora hadn't noticed the ships on the horizon near the island. She would have thought them too far to be dangerous, in any case. Her opinion didn't matter, though, as the ship barely skimmed by another explosion of fire. A zebra came bounding up from below, carrying a red bottle. He was nearly to Zecora and Falling Star when light flashed behind him, smoke and ash and wind tossing him through the air like a rag doll or a soccer ball. The potion in his hooves slipped out, riding the shockwave of the high explosive. Zecora half-caught it and threw open the cork, but she fumbled. The liquid inside spilled out, cascading in waves over Gannon, as water on a sandy beach. It sizzled and popped, sealing the wounds not already stitched closed.

Zecora managed to hold in the other half of the flask and forced Gannon's neck up, tilting his head forward to close the airway and open the esophagus. Healing poultice found its way into him, a milky white color as it passed down.

For a moment, all was still.

Then Gannon coughed, eyes opening, heaving in air. Another shell burst open above the three, tearing into the unfurled sail.

"OH SHIT! WHAT THE HELL?" the charcoal-gray pegasus exclaimed, scrambling around.

Zecora had to force herself to detach from everything around and about. "Calm down, now. Up, friend. Unless you want to meet your end."

The pegasus' eyes locked with hers, filled to the brim with nothing. Just pure, absolute, silence, that of those who cannot possibly push themselves any further. When they are literally running on empty. "Okay," he responded mechanically.

Zecora and Falling Star lifted him, and together they dashed below. Gannon used them as support, stumbling along into the medical area. Carefully, so as to avoid breaking the stitches and sutures, he was laid down on the bed.

"I can take care of him from here. You should go back and help the others, or they shall die, I fear." Zecora gripped Falling Star. She knew he was ready.

The pony curtly nodded and departed.

One of few words, apart from the herd, Zecora thought to herself, understanding the doctor's character and the situation at hoof. Turning her attention from the doctor, she saw the now less severely injured Arcade Gannon sprawled across a table. He looked near death, but Zecora felt a steady pulse and noticed the bleeding slowing to a mere crawl. After finishing up the bandaging and doing a once-over, a zebra barged in, nearly smashing the equipment in the crowded room. Without another word, he left a bag next to Gannon and left. Zecora thanked whatever creator there was that the materials inside her pack had not broken or been destroyed. She dug out a few more bottles, giving them to Gannon both orally and intravenously, using a new needle. He soon felt the effects of the sedative, at least visibly. A soft whimper left his lips as he drifted to unconsciousness.

The moan was punctuated by the thump of an explosion from outside. Silence reigned after that, signaling an end to the conflict. With what speed she could muster from her weakened body, Zecora entered the hallway. Soft light spread through a ceiling hatch across the floor, strumming a silent pattern across an invisible violin. It was almost eerie. There was no noise, not even the waters of the sea. Serenity entered Zecora. She felt anew and grandiose, but at the same time mute and dull. Her steps clopped along the stairs, thundering stacatto to a melody of nothing. Opening the hatch, she saw a scene not totally unknown to her, but entirely unpleasant. The main sail was torn and corrupted with fire and shrapnel, rent in most places rather than less. The bow was shredded, deck exploded and open to the salty air. The ship was turning, at least. Albeit slowly, but it was actually moving away from the conflict. In the distance, Zecora saw flashes of light as war continued on between various factions of differing origin. Apparently, whoever had fired on them considered the ship a lesser threat. Almost ironic, considering their small yet rather powerful cargo.

She saw a sinking craft and hoped that Celestia had kept Applebloom safe.

Drawing her attention from the fight, she rushed towards the injured crew on the deck. Her herbal bag proved useful; she had a cauldron set and boiling, popping with the fire of life-giving potential. The hours waned by as the casualties were moved to the sickbay. With a pop of bubbles, the healing potion cooled, a misty white liquid losing heat rather quickly. As she stared into it, Zecora lost her thoughts. It brought forth memory, and with that a sort of anguish and wonderment, unbeknownst to her for many years...

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

"Come on, now. Let's think this through," Voraloxle said, calm and suave as always. Even with pistol in hoof, fires of deathly anger burning in his eyes.

Jo' Tasha had his rapier leveled against the pony's throat, ready to slide over at any moment. It would not have done much good, of course. Voraloxle's reaction time was legendary. Both would be dead before they hit the ground. "Oh, friend, I've thought this thought, calm at first, but soon I knew I needed to believe it for it to be real," the zebra said. "You wouldn't understand! You don't know what an idea is, Voraloxle. Ideas cannot be killed. That is where they draw their strength."

Zecora stood beside him, knives clinking, tainted with venom. Falling Star wielded no weapon but the power of his voice, but that seemed enough for the mutinous crew to have at least five firearms trailed on him at all times.

Voraloxle drew in a breath before answering. "Perhaps. But if you cut off the head of the snake, poison the water of its kin, and hunt down every one of them to extermination, will there be any snakes left?"

Instead of replying, Tasha simply tightened his grip.

Falling Star entered the conversation then, tone lilting and spilling into the ears of those around him, delicate yet powerful in manner.

"I don't think you want to be the snake here, Jo. I know you. You are not like that. You are better than a serpent, more than an animal, or a slave. Stop this madness."

For a time, the zebra thought.

"Perhaps you are right in that regard... maybe... NO! No, you lie! You are fools all!"

Falling Star ended regretfully.

"Cui bono?"

While Tasha's fellows deliberated with the newfound doubt, Voraloxle leapt back, firing. One round struck Tasha, gutting him, but not before the blade caught Voraloxle's shoulder, digging deep. He dropped the second revolver as he drew it, unable to use his arm. However, the pony remained content with the five rounds he had. All but one hit a mark, and Zecora sliced through the remainder. The deck of the Diamond's Destiny lay still, as even the waves stopped with life, a final crash resounding through the air, but fading away in a distant echo...

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

The white liquid found and closed the wound like a seamstress sewing a dress. Light hummed through the darkness of night on the deck, potion emitting a natural light to the sky, fighting a battle to the death against death itself. Voraloxle flexed the appendage, drawing as quickly as he could. With a wince, he grunted and dropped to the planks. The splinters below were like honey on the tongue compared to his pain then. A wound long in healing was not the most pleasant outcome he could have had.

"Take me back to Equestria. You can have my damn ship, you blasted fool. I don't expect honor among thieves, so I circumvent the process outright. If I ever see you again after I make landfall, I will skin you alive." Voraloxle hissed curses at Varos, defeated like a dog beaten to submission. This beast, however, still had fangs, and a ransom left to boot. The boxes of treasure were magically teleported when they made port, gone before the sun rose on the murky water, white with predawn moonlight. Gone, perhaps, to the ocean, to an island, to a cavern, to a hole. Even Voraloxle himself did not know, only that if he didn't have it, no one did. Zecora left with him, city streets bathed in blank contrast, black and white. They split soon after, losing track within a few weeks.

Neither really cared.

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

Viva La Revolucion

Starry night.

Mumbled voice.

"APPLEJACK!"

Gone.

Scampering, jumping.

Lantern, flickering.

Gone.

zzzzzzzzzzzTTTT

"Stabilizied. Heart rate normal. Breathing normal. Adrenaline, 10 ccs."

Gasp.

Gone.

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

With a shudder, Applebloom awoke.

The lights of the hospital greeted her with blinding ferocity, friendly but aggressive all the same. Sterility battled in the air with the smell of burned plastic and rubber. Applebloom had wafted in that scent before; it was far more pungent than she remembered. Maybe that was because alchemy was a weaker magic; it didn't have the same smell as unicorns dueling it out. Though Applebloom had seen that happen with Twilight and the Ursa Minor.

Even so, the fuming stench of magic discharge was starting to burn her throat. The apprentice tried to swallow, found that she couldn't, and cast her head to the left.

Hey, a voice cast weakly through her mind. Twilight Sparkle, in the bed just next to her, projected her thoughts. Sorry, but I can't speak very well. This will have to do. So... how are you feeling? The unicorn's thoughts echoed her expressions.

"TWILI--" Applebloom was cut off from shrieking out by a soft, invisible hand on her mouth.

Twilight, horn faintly aglow, held her quiet and squirming. Sorry about that, but you'll wake up Applejack and Big Mac. For now, I want to just talk to you, and you alone. You can answer by thinking. At her slightly dismayed and blushing expression, Twilight went on. Just so you know, I don't normally read minds. Sort of illegal without consent... okay, let's start over here. How are you feeling?

...Fine... So long as I don't move too much. Applebloom responded.

Twilight nodded weakly, grinning grimly. You got hit pretty hard. How'd that happen?

Memories of her sneaking onto the island resurfaced. The massive pain in her side, the running, the sirens... It overwhelmed her for a minute, and she felt Twilight withdraw slightly, like a worm pulling back out of its tunnel.

Oh... was all the unicorn could manage. Well, there's something I need to tell you. A lot, actually... I pulled you from the burning wreck of the Equestrian Navy's flagship, the Midnight Watch. You may or may not remember that. But it may be better to start from the beginning...

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

1 month earlier

Canterlot Palace

Royal Chambers

"What do you suggest we do, Luna?" Celestia said, attempting to seek help from her sibling.

The wise and meditative alicorn pondered for a moment before replying sagely, "Well, we must consider their side before anything else. We are here on Equus to serve, after all." Luna. Always 'by the people' this, 'for the people' that. Celestia's nerves started to fray with that.

"Luna, we've ruled for millenia without dissent. Why give up this peace now? Why give in to what will certainly be a violent and bloody rebellion?"

Blue mane wavering in the air, eyes lazy but aware, the Princess of the Night almost shook her head in what might have been disagreement. Celestia hated that. The only thing she didn't like about her sister: how she argued. How constantly, time after time, she was given that look.

"What the people want should be our foremost concern, Tia," the dark alicorn replied indignantly. "Without them, we are nothing. If they want us off the throne, and if they want to corrupt themselves with power--as mortals have been proven to do--then they may and shall do it. It is their will which overrides ours, though wise council against them we may provide."

Celestia groaned. "But these splinter zebras do not represent our entire population, Luna! I'm fairly sure our charges would much prefer less war to more."

Luna nodded. "Then the only option I see aside from giving them the throne is attempting a peaceful, diplomatic solution to their problems. Or we could kill them all."

Gawking in disbelief, Celestia almost fell off her throne. "And here you were discussing their rights just a moment ago!"

"Well...."

"Well, what? I will summon a peace meeting. Perhaps then this whole ordeal over the 'book of Velnishar' shall finally come to an end." Celestia sank into her cushion, trying to relax. A soft, broken light came through the massive stained glass, casting glowing strips of color over the floor and the Princesses. A curtain fluttered as a breeze slipped through a window. Guards patrolled cautiously but nonchalantly, embracing the quiet of the room as the Princesses quieted down.

Celestia's mind still raced, however. Ideas on the situation at hoof were speeding around like magically-enchanted bullet trains. Apparently, her expression displayed this to Luna.

"Tia, maybe you should take a break."

Eyes red from lack of sleep and skin wrinkling under her eyes, Celestia was the poster pony of "overworked." Still, she refused.

"It's fine, Luna. I can handle myself."

Her younger sister sighed and looked ahead to the massive, bronze throne room doors. "I could have Shining Armor come down to help me for a while, and you could take a nap. Or hibernate for a few days. Frankly, either would assist your current state a great deal. Perhaps you should just breathe. That was a luxury I was not afforded on the moon."

Taking the advice to heart after a moment, she did breathe. For once in the past one thousand-and-two years, Celestia rested. No sickness racked her, no cough clogged her sinuses. She could breathe. Breathing was a spectacular thing for her. Being immortal, she didn't really need to do it all the often. Actually, she could probably hold her breath for something like half a century. If Celestia sat down and did nothing, maybe even two centuries. Luna had done it for a thousand years in her prison of Nightmare Moon.

Still, it was quite an exquisite feeling. In and out, air flowing in a natural cycle of--

Suddenly, the doors to the throne room burst open, along with Celestia's drowsy eyes. A flustered Twilight Sparkle appeared before her, babbling over some nonsensically small issue that she was having in Canterlot.

Gathering her senses, Celestia let her babble on for a few minutes, something about not being friends with some noble pony and that being a problem.

As she rattled off a list of reasons and support with arrow-like efficiency, Celestia cut her off. "Twilight."

"Yes?" the unicorn stopped and perked up expectantly.

"There's something I would have you do. A mission, if you would." Seeing the ears of the lavender pony flare out and forward, she continued. "I need you to be a bit of a diplomat. As you know, your friends Zecora and Applebloom are already in the Zebra country, organizing trade regulations. I wish for you to find them, link up, and organize a summit of leaders for a meeting of sorts. I will give you a full breifing in writing, if you accept."

Twilight was all too eager to agree and go along with the assignment. She loved that, and Celestia was more than happy to please one of her favorite students with a task she needed. Mutual benefit. Always a good thing.

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

What about Spike? Applebloom asked incredulously. Where was he when you started chasing after us?

Twilight responded almost too quickly, as if she anticipated the question. He stayed back and managed the library. He might even... She closed her eyes, and her horn glowed brighter. There he is.

Slowly, a strange sensation grappled with Applebloom's mind. It showed her a blurry image, almost in front of her eyes, but at the same time in her head. Presque vu. Until...

A picture of a quietly sleeping Spike found her. He was almost cute in the reclining hospital chair, a worried look plastered on his face. Twilight Sparkle adjusted her magical fishing rod line and the picture scattered and refocused on Applejack and Big Mac in a similar state to Spike.

It's about eleven right now. I couldn't sleep, so I did my best to gather strength and try to wake you. The unicorn gave her a good sense of timing that counter-balanced Applebloom's recent disorientation. Anyways, back to the story...

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

Twilight Sparkle was beginning to feel claustrophobic, a feeling that was unaided by a mounting emotion of intimidation.

The musty smell of the home and the overall clutter did not help, especially with the filtered light and significant air of sickness.

A cough broke the silence, disturbing a fly that took off, buzzing around incessantly. "Who's there?" a thick accent of Zebraskan tribal origin sounded out, hoarse from disuse and damage.

Gathering her breath, Twilight made her way out of the cramped entry to the left, through the only path around a wall covered in faded yellow wallpaper with white stripes. Rarity would have found it incredibly tacky.

"This is Twilight Sparkle, Ambassador of Equestria and Assistant Mistress of Magic to the Equestrian Royal Court!" She called out her full title, a meek attempt to impress one of the most powerful alchemists in the world. The lavender mare had only had the pleasure of knowing the daughter, who she now was searching for.

"And I'm a dying old zebra!" the answer came with a chortle of laughter.

Taking that as an invitation, Twilight slid past the multitude of papers pinned to the walls. At a glance, they seemed to be alchemical formulas. Books and scrap sheets lay all around, cluttering a carpet that seemed far too worn with age.

The living room came into full view, and Twilight witnessed firsthand the power of a trap rune. Her hooves were entirely locked into place. She attempted to break the spell with magic of her own, but found her horn and powers seemingly blocked off. With--literally--no where else to turn, Twilight found herself staring into the eyes of a female zebra, splayed across an old couch with a worn comforter atop her. Zecora's mother.

Occasionally called "The Master Alchemist."

Well, not occasionally. That was her pen name for her numerous scripts and texts on alchemy, chemistry, and science. She was actually remarkably famous, and Twilight had even read a few of her books.

The decrepit thing before her was not what she had pictured.

Her mane was overgrown and frazzled, as if nothing had touched it in months; for some reason, that seemed very likely. The zebra was wrinkled of face and skin, coat bumpy with slight tumorous growths. The eyes were just like Zecora's; strikingly similar, in fact. The same sharp angles, and blue tint. The amazing closeness startled Twilight for a moment. But as her surprise cooled, she found one major difference: The zebra's name was Ranasha.

"Uh... would you mind releasing me? Please?" Twilight begged and whimpered a little. It was nothing near Rarity's dramatics, but it would have to do.

The zebra countered, raising a faded grey brow and saying, "Not until I find your purpose here. Those with the Black Cancer don't get many visitors."

OH.

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

Now speaking in a low whisper, Applebloom interrupted. "Wait wait wait. What? You met Zecora's mom?!?"

Leaning as far as she could out from her bed, Twilight replied, "Yes. I just said that, didn't I? I thought she might have information on Zecora's whereabouts. I figured that she would know, since you visited her. Right?"

Applebloom's countenance drooped slightly. She rolled her eyes and her mouth pulled into a line. "Well..." she hissed through clenched teeth. "Not exactleh. Kinda got caught up in an lil' assassination attempt. So. Yeah." Her accent started to creep into her speech again.

Now strengthened, Twilight ran a hoof through her mane, attempting to smooth the frazzled ends. "I imagine that put a damper on the plans. You were framed for it, right? And then you ran and somehow found out about Yorlug..."

"Wait, how in hay did you find out abou' Yorlug Island, Twilight?" Applebloom inquired again.

"It was simply the meeting place I arranged with--" Hoof beats clopped through the halls, resonating. In a harsh, low hiss, Twilight said, "Preted you're asleep!"

Applebloom immediately did so as a nurse came through, doing his rounds and checking on the patients. He hummed tunelessly. Soon, she felt Twilight in her mind again, a worm seeping in. I'm sorry, but what I'm about to tell you is information that could bring down the entire Equestrian nation, maybe the entire world. I would give you a little more lead up, but I get the feeling I'm running out of time... Twilight spoke in her thoughts.

Applebloom? Princess Celestia is dead.