Chapters Tales of The Wasteland Wanderer
Tales of the Wasteland Wanderer
Prologue
Pyro Comet stood facing the door to the slave wagon he was in, chains holding his four legs tightly in place. He saw nothing outside the wooden wagon, and simply waited as it bumped along on the uneven road leading to what he knew would be his end. He had broken the most sacred rule of his people; he had revealed himself.
He stood stoically facing the door as thoughts of recent events ran through his head. Of all the plantations, he had to fall in love at the front door of the most ferocious of all the plantation owners. He had fallen for her when he first laid eyes on her, the day she and her filly had been brought in. He had kept his eyes on her for the first couple of weeks, and it only served to deepen his infatuation. She was kind, gentle, and had a way of caring for everyone. He started getting closer to her, and, as he did so, she started to feel the same. They kept it as quiet as they could for almost a year, but then he had messed up: he had let her take him to bed. The next morning, he had done his best to reassure himself that nothing would come of it, and, for a few months, he truly believed it.
But then she told him the worst news of all; she was pregnant. He panicked and was forced to tell her the truth, one that she, very surprisingly, took well. Almost too well…. They spent the next several months doing everything they could to make everything look normal, but it was no use. In the end, he was forced to give up the only thing that would keep the child safe; his onyx bracer. He gave her the bracer in the dead of night, his secret ripping itself away from him in the same moment. He embraced her and the filly he had come to think of as daughter, hugging them tightly before dashing away towards the handler’s barracks. With a small spark from his unorthodox magic, he set the building ablaze.
The handlers ran out of the building, putting the fire out quicker than Pyro Comet had intended, and they spotted him as he tried to escape into the night. He was no match for the swiftness of griffon wings, and they had him in chains within the hour. He was brought before the plantation owner, who simply nodded his head behind him and said, “To the gallows.”
That is how Comet found himself being marched up the steps of the wooden deathtrap. He never let his head droop as he was led to stand on the trap door and noose. As the noose was wrapped around his neck, the owner walked towards him and asked, “Any last words?” Comet’s only response was to close his eyes and hold his head higher in defiance. The cruel master simply “humphed,” and walked away. As he felt a heavy weight step up towards the lever that would bring his life to an end, a single tear escaped between his eyelids. If only I could be sure they would be safe, he thought to himself. Almost immediately, images of a bright red stallion with a blue and yellow mane filled his mind.
Although he had never met the stallion before in his life, he had no doubt as to the identity of said stallion: it was his son. He saw his son stand before monsters and demons, go toe-to-toe with kings and queens, and even defy beings just below the status of ‘god.’ Thank you, he prayed to whatever higher power had sent him the visions.
I’m sorry.
Comet’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the voice, swinging his head around to see who had spoken. There was no one near him besides the executioner, and he was becoming more and more sure that the voice had come from inside his head. He looked forwards once more with a puzzled look on his face, and finally found what he was searching for. There, standing behind all other beings present, stood a figure just inside the light of the few torches. It stood upright, adorned in all black, except its purple shirt. It stared straight at him, and the wind picked up, blowing the being’s hair and jacket around, only adding to its mysteriousness. As they stared at each other, tears began leak from its brown eyes. I’m so sorry, the voice sounded in Comet’s head again.
Comet was blown away. He could not wrap his head around what was before him…but he didn’t have time to figure it out. A small grin played its way across his features for the first time that night. He nodded his head towards the being, raising his chin back up in defiance. As he stared at the being, his thoughts went back to his son. The executioner grasped the lever, preparing to throw it forward. He had time for one last thought as the planks gave way under his feet. I love you, my son, and he knew no more….
Not far away, a soft green mare sat in the corner of the small mud hut meant for slaves. She sat stroking the mane of her daughter, a pale blue filly, staring at the only object that had ever meant anything to her; a small onyx bracer, inlaid with a yellow gem. As she stared, she felt a sharp pain in her stomach, and she looked towards the small life growing inside her, lifting her hoof from her daughter’s head to briefly rub the area. She felt a feeling of warmth spread through her hoof, the one holding on to the bracer. She lurched her head back up to find that the bracer had changed. In its place, a silver collar now sat….
Author's Note
...*cough*... yeeeaaahhhh... great start.... If you spot any mistakes or errors, leave them in the comments below with the rest of your thoughts.
Tales of The Wasteland Wanderer
Arc 1-Freedom-Start
Chapter 1- The Fuel…
SHINK! The hoe hit ground once more causing the hard earth to split and soften under its blade. The colt holding on to the plow grunted as he pulled the blade from the earth, only to swing it back down into the ground. He shifted his rear left hoof in order to get a better stance with which to swing, but he lurched as the shackle and chain held him in place. He looked back at his imprisoned limb and sighed. Next to him, dozens more just like him whittled away at their own little patch of earth, trying only to get their patch as soft as possible, the thoughts of extra slop on their plates pushing them forwards. The young colt once again sighed at the sight.
“Wat’re you doin’?!?” He was forced to arch his body at the sharp pain of the cracked whip against his back. “We didn’t say you could stop!” The colt quickly got back up on his hooves and began to work overtime as two minotaur made their way towards him. Every pony on the plantation knew them by name, not that they actually used their names in fear of provoking the bullies’ wrath. They stopped behind and to the side of the bright red colt, casting an oppressive shadow over him. “Wat,” asked the dark brown minotaur, Bulk, as he planted a swift kick into the colt’s side, causing him to fall hard on his side, “to good to answer us?”
“N-no, sir,” stumbled the colt, voice rough from disuse and scrambling to his feet to continue his work.
“Well, wat were you doin’ instead of workin’?” asked the dark blue minotaur, Break.
“N-nothing, sir,” the colt replied, trying desperately to ignore the pain of the new lash across his back as he attempted to look hard at work.
“Is dat so?” Break asked, snapping the whip in his hands threateningly, “‘Cause it look’d like you was havin’ a little break.”
“No, sir, of course not!” he replied hastily, almost turning to face the two brutes before remembering to stay busy.
“Well, if you wasn’t takin’ a break, maybe you’d like one…” The colt never stopped his repetitive chore, but his face did contort into a puzzled expression at the seemingly kind words.
“In the pits.” The colt’s eyes shot open in fear, and this time he did turn to face his tormentors, simultaneously dropping the hoe and to his knees.
“N-no, sir, please, not the pits!!!” Bulk only smiled wickedly and slapped the young pony across his dust covered face. His head swam as he hit the ground, only barely aware that Break had undone his shackle and that each minotaur had a hold of one of his front legs, dragging him towards a beaten wood door in the ground. Very few ponies stopped what they were doing to glance at the scene, and only one old stallion watched the entire event unfold. He shook his head as the young unicorn was thrown into the hole and the door was slammed closed behind him, Bulk locking it from the outside. “Poor Pyro,” he muttered as he went back to his own work.
Inside the dark hole in the ground, the unicorn in question, Pyro Mance, slowly came back to his senses. He took one look around, and resigned himself to curling into himself in one corner of the dirt prison. As time went by, his thoughts turned to the only thing that kept him going; his family, or at least, his memories of them. He thought first of his mother, a gentle earth pony by the name of Spring Mint. He remembered snuggling into her warm, mint green coat as she hugged him and rocked him to sleep. He remembered sitting next to her on the floor, feeling her tremble as her fever rose, and not being able to stop it….
His eyes where clouded as he turned his thoughts to his sister, Whistle Wind. He remembered the nights he couldn’t go to sleep without mama, and she would softly sing, putting the entire hut full of ponies at ease. He remembered the day rich griffons had ripped her from their mother’s arms, tears flowing from all their eyes.
He teared up at these memories, and began to shake with quiet sobs. His chest began to burn from the memory of a fractured rib. He rubbed his torso to ease the pain, and, as he did so, his hoof rubbed across his only worldly possession; an ornate silver collar holding a large yellow gem and two smaller blue ones to either side. The only thing that kept the handlers from ripping it off his neck was the fact that they couldn’t. It was magically sealed to his neck, and no one had ever been able to loosen its grip on him. His thoughts slowly drifted to the one that had given him such a gift, the stallion he had no memory of; his father. He wondered what the stallion would have looked like, whether or not they shared the same blue and yellow mane, what he would have taught Pyro about life…all things he would never know. Mama had never told him about his father, tears the only thing she could produce when confronted with the topic, and his sister had been too young to remember him when the owner of the plantation had had him executed. All hope of knowing anything about his father had been lost when his mother died, taking the precious pearls of memory with her.
Tears flowed down his cheeks as he clutched the collar. As he cried, his face changed from an expression of pure grief to one of absolute hatred at the thought of those who had taken his family from him. The handlers, griffons and minotaur like Bulk and Break that had mistreated him, the idiots that had worked his mother to the bone until she dropped from exhaustion, the griffons that had bought his sister for her voice and ripped her away from them, and, above all else, the owner of the plantation, a dark example of what a dragon and griffon could produce, Grimwrik. It was him that had ordered his father executed; him that made the deal that took his sister; HIM that had allowed his mother to be literally worked to death.
The tears stopped flowing as Pyro Mance raised his head to stare into the night that could be seen through a small slit in the door. He clenched his hoof around the collar, ground his teeth together, and scrunched his eyes closed as images of his departed family flashed through his mind. Someday, somehow, he thought, I will avenge you. Someday, his eyes snapped open, I will kill them all!
Author's Note
Chapter 1! Yay
Tales of The Wasteland Wanderer
Chapter 2- ...The Spark...
Chapter 2- …The Spark…
“Come on, scum!” cried out the cruel voice of one of the griffon handlers as he cracked a whip over the heads of the slaves, causing all but Pyro to flinch. He had grown past feeling fear. In fact, in the several months since his realization in the pits, he had grown past feeling anything…except for the burning hatred deep in his chest. He pulled the wagon a tiny bit faster, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder at the griffon. As he faced forward once again, a dark scowl spread across his features.
He’ll get his, he thought silently to himself.
That had been his life since that night. When Bulk and Break had hauled him out of the pit the next morning, he had not reacted at all, even when they squeezed his legs to hard, or attached him to the chain to roughly. He simply stood there, and let his rage slowly build inside of him, until it coursed through every vein. No action was ever completed without Pyro thinking of how he would make them all pay, especially that monster, Grimwrik. Even the passage of time was lost to him, the only way of knowing that any time had passed at all being the tall crops standing beside him.
He pulled the wagon along, stopping occasionally to let the ponies behind him pick the precious plant and throw it into the back, and so the day went on, just as any other. However, what Pyro did not know was that this day would turn the tides of his life forever. He eventually came to the end of the row, and started to turn towards the next, but, as he did, not ten feet away from him, stood Bulk, Break, and several griffons.
Pyro’s blood began to boil, not because of the presence of the slave handlers, but at what was in the middle of them all. Lying there, in a bloody mess, was an older stallion, a pony that had spent his entire life on the plantation, shedding his blood, sweat, and tears for the same cruel beings that stood around him and laughed at his misery. As the tormentors continued to laugh, one of the griffons raised their whip and brought it down on the elder’s back, causing him to cry out in pain.
Pyro’s teeth ground together as he watched this, and a pounding began in the back of his head. He lost all connection to his surroundings, reality seeming to fade away from him. How DARE they!!! He screamed in his head. This pony that had bared every burden on his shoulders reduced to nothing more than a bloody, screaming mess in the dust. As these thoughts went through his mind, a whisper escaped his lips. None heard him, except a lone griffon standing on the outskirts of the group, who turned towards the sound.
Upon seeing Pyro standing, trembling, and staring at the ground, the griffon gave a chuckle. “Hey,” he called out. The other handlers stopped in the demented merrymaking and turned to stare at the scene unfolding before them. The griffon wore a cocky smirk as he started to strut towards the red colt, trying to make as big a show out of his actions as he could. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you from over there,” said the griffon, coming to a stop in front of Pyro, “could you say that again.” Another unintelligible whisper came from Pyro, who still had not moved, but had stopped trembling as the griffon approached. “What was that?” asked the griffon, cocking his head to the side and cupping one claw around his ear. “Could you speak up?”
“That’s….” Pyro slowly lifted his head to gaze into the eyes of the griffon, and in that moment, only one thing ran through the griffon’s mind; fear. “ENOOOOUUUGH!!!” The griffon never knew what hit him. A surge of white hot aura blasted its way out of Pyro, blowing away everything around him. When the dust settled and the smoke cleared, all that could be seen was a scorch mark, and the young red stallion. That wouldn’t have bothered the large group of tyrants; except for one thing…the pony before them was on FIRE!
The entirety of Pyro’s mane and tail had been engulfed in blue and white flames, giving the pony the look of something straight out of Tartarus. Everyone present took a step back…everyone except Break. “Wat’re you idiots doin’?” he yelled out, glancing over his shoulders at his retreating comrades. “It’s only one stupid slave!”
“You should have run.”
The words made Break’s blood run cold, despite the heat that was slowly growing more intense in front of him. He slowly turned his head forwards to see Pyro slowly stalking towards him, and that’s when he spotted what the others had seen right off the bat; Pyro was still wearing the magic dampening ring on his horn.
Break began to back away even more quickly than his comrades, and ended up tripping and falling on his rump. In his desperation, he began to claw his way backwards, but it was no use. Pyro slowly approached the downed minotaur. Break could do nothing but stare at the nightmare before, and began to pray to all the elder gods of his race that some miracle should save him, but only one thing came to his terrified mind.
“Please, don’t hurt me!” he screamed, throwing his hands in front of him, and squeezing his eyes shut. The gravel and dust gave a final crunch as Pyro stopped his approach. After a few moments of nothing, Break began to open his eyes. He saw the pony standing before him, once again staring at the ground and trembling, the flames on his body dimming to a slow red and orange burn.
“Spare you?” Pyro’s voice came out as a whispered growl that somehow held more force than when he had shouted. “After all you’ve done, everything you put us, put ME through?” A small chuckle escaped his lips as he began to raise his head to look at Break. “You must be joking,” he said, an evil smile spreading across his face to match his eyes that were slowly turning from blue to black. “Say goodnight!”
In that moment, as tendrils of fire began to crawl out of the flames across Pyro’s back and sway in the air, Break knew there was no chance for him. He screamed out in pain as the fiery whips rained down on his body, raising his arms in a desperate attempt to protect his face and head. Again and again they came, blow after blow, with more and more force, as Pyro’s evil grin morphed into a hateful and rage filled snarl. He continued to bring the whips down, even after covering Break’s body in lacerations and removing most of the fur from his arms, leaving the flesh underneath burned and blackened from the flames.
Pyro would have finished him right then and there, had it not been for the several hundred pounds of griffon muscle that plowed into his side from the air. He rolled and skid for several feet across the dirt, coming to a stop when he flipped himself upright and skid on all four hooves for another few feet. He looked up to see several griffons surround him as a few minotaur started to get Break to his feet.
Pyro snorted. Fine, he thought, I’ll finish him later. He looked back towards the griffons, who were beginning to close in around him. In the meantime, let’s have some fun. The malicious grin once again spread itself across his features. The griffons hesitated, not for long, but long enough. Pyro charged forwards, leaping into the air to deliver a powerful punch into the face of the lead griffon, sending it sailing backwards. He didn’t stop, keeping his momentum going by spinning upon landing to deliver a devastating double buck to the torso the next griffon, sending it into the next griffon in line.
The remaining four finally got over their shock, three charging at Pyro, and the fourth turning to the sky to gain enough altitude for a second dive. They quickly surrounded him, hoping to overwhelm him through sheer numbers. His only reaction was to widen his smirk. As one, the griffons charged him, completely unprepared for what was coming next. Pyro stood on his front hooves, balancing his hindquarters over his head and started to spin. A maelstrom of fire formed around him, turning Pyro into a cyclone of flames. It was too late for the three griffons to react, and each took a fiery kick to the head, sending them back several yards.
The fourth had performed his 180 degree turn just in time to see all this, and he made up his mind to end this foolishness once and for all. He dove towards Pyro, planning to slam into his side for a second time. But, was it just him, or was the cyclone getting faster and spreading out along the ground?
Moments before he would have plowed into the pony, Pyro jumped into the air, leaving a trail a flame behind him like a comet. He stopped in midair, and, shooting flames from all four hooves, launched himself headfirst into the back of the diving griffon, driving him into the ground. Pyro stepped out of the cloud of dust that surrounded the newly formed crater. He looked around to see that several more handlers had arrived as backup, but no one seemed keen on taking this unnatural being of rage and flames.
“Well?” He called out. “Anyone else?”
“It looks as if the handlers haven’t been hard enough on you slaves.”
Pyro turned towards the voice that had come from behind him, only to see the one being he hated more than any land ten feet away from him; Grimwrik had arrived.
“It’s about time you showed up,” Pyro said with a grin that almost immediately turned into a snarl. “I’m going to enjoy tearing you apart!”
Grimwrik simply ‘hmph’d in response, causing Pyro’s rage to soar to new heights. He rushed the older hybrid, drawing his front hoof back to deliver a skull crushing punch. However, just as he came into striking distance, Grimwrik moved faster than he could follow, and, in one swift motion, threw the punch away as if it were nothing, grabbed Pyro by the throat and slammed him into the ground. The griffon/dragon began to squeeze harder on Pyro’s windpipe, causing him to start gasping for air.
“I’ve had just about enough of you,” Grimwrik before launching himself into the sky, dragging Pyro with him. As they got higher and higher, Pyro felt consciousness begin to slip away as he was deprived of more and more oxygen. Seeing this, Grimwrik waited for the pony to be holding on by nothing more than a thread, then flipped midair, holding Pyro in front him as they dove back towards the ground. Upon hitting the earth, the ground shook and a shockwave of wind and dust followed.
Pyro was barely awake at the bottom of the crater, and the last thing he saw before all consciousness left him was Grimwrik stepping towards one of the minotaur handlers, jerk a thumb towards him, and say something unintelligible. Something about “hang” and “morning”....
Author's Note
Annnd, Pyro has a kill count! Poor griffon... anyhow, first day out and we going strong. Whoo!!! But Pyro seems to be in a bit of a pickle... wonder how he plans to get out of this one?
As always, if you see any errors let me know in the comments below with the rest of your thoughts. Have a wonderful day everyone!!!
Tales of The Wasteland Wanderer
Chapter 3- ...The Inferno
Chapter 3- ...The Inferno
Pyro awoke to find himself chained up inside some sort of wooden structure. He tried to look around to get a better idea of where he was, but a chain around his neck jerked his head back into position. Then it hit him. He was in the wooden cart used to take ponies away when they were too old, weak, or troublesome to keep around. He was chained inside the executioner's cart. His legs gave out from under him, and, had it not been for the chains, he would have hit the floor.
Everything came flooding back to him at once. His rage, the fight, his defeat at the hands of Grimwrik. He groaned. How could he be so stupid? How could he have thought that some colt, barely twelve years old, could take on an entire plantation’s worth of handlers and their boss? Grimwrik was the most feared, let alone powerful, owner in the entire continent of Waste! And he had tried to attack him head-on, without a single thought! How could I be so stupid!?! He thought to himself, trying to hang his head lower than it already was. Wait, how could I have been so stupid? He suddenly thought.
He had been planning this for months, he wouldn’t just throw it all away just like that… would he? Then he remembered. The voices. Thousands of voices giving him different instructions, but all with one goal in mind; kill them all. He didn’t know where the voices had come from, or what had caused them, but one thing was clear; they got him killed.
...Or maybe not. He had never known that he possessed such powerful magic, and, thinking back, he realized that he had been wearing a magic dampening ring on his horn the entire time. In the light of hope and desperation, he pulled his horn and hoof together, straining against the chains that bound him. After what felt like hours, he finally touched his hoof to his horn… and his heart sank. They had added two more rings to his horn. How am I going to get out of this now?
Don’t give in…
Pyro jerked his head up, trying to locate the origin of the voice, but he knew he was alone. “Who said that?” He asked aloud, hoping that it had just been his imagination.
Use your magic…
The voice sounded again, causing Pyro to jump. “Who’s there?” He called. “What do you want?”
Your magic cannot...be restricted…
This time, Pyro stopped panicking and focused on the words he had just heard. He could still use magic? With three rings? It sounded impossible… but…. He closed his eyes and looked inside himself, searching for that flame he had felt for the past months. He searched for a while, almost giving up hope, before feeling a small feeling of warmth within his… heart? He focused on it, and, in his mind’s eye, imagined himself walking up to a simmering flame. It was little more than smoldering spark, but something told him it could be so much more. He just had to fan the flames.
He started reaching into his memories, pulling only the most sad, anguish-filled moments he could find. They appeared as pictures before him. He started to reach for the memory of his mother’s death when the voice sounded again. Not like this… the flames will… consume you….
Pyro froze, not daring to move his imaginary hoof a single fraction. But if he didn’t use these memories, what would use? What else did he have? Pyro pondered this for a while, growing more and more frustrated as he couldn’t think of an answer. Help me! He finally called out, frustration and hopelessness setting in.
Look deeper….
Pyro stopped and lost himself in thought. What else did he have but the anger? He began looking deeper as the voice had instructed, but couldn’t find anything. He had just about given in when a sparkle caught his eye. He turned towards the source, and made his way towards it, coming to a stop in front of a triangle of changing light. He reached down and began trying to pull it out, but no matter what he did, the memory wouldn’t budge. He stopped and started to circle the small triangle, but stopped when he felt something shift underneath his hoof. He looked down and was surprised to see what appeared to be dirt or soil. He thought about this, and an idea struck him. He pawed at the “ground” around the memory, and was rewarded by the sight of more changing light. Encouraged, he dug around the precious thing more vigorously until, finally he revealed what looked like a shining mirror. He stared at the mirror, but saw nothing.
I don’t get it, he thought.
Try harder….
Gee, thanks, he thought, with a roll of his “eyes.” He turned his attention back to the memory, trying desperately to see what was hidden within. Slowly, an image started to come into view. He leaned in closer to get a better look, but, as the picture became clear, he sat back on his haunches. The image before him was of his mother holding him when he was young, slowly rocking him back and forth while humming a sweet, warm melody. The image lasted a little longer and began to fade out. Pyro, caught up in the moment, didn’t notice until the image was almost completely gone.
“No! Wait!” He cried out, lurching forward and placing his hooves on the mirror, but backed away again as another image took its place. This time, the image that appeared was that of his sister singing to him when they were little. It played for a while before beginning to fade as well. This time Pyro waited patiently for the next picture to take it’s place, and was rewarded when yet another memory came into existence on the mirror. What he saw both confused and startled him. He saw himself, sitting all alone in the dark, crying over all his loses. He watched for what seemed like hours, waiting for the scene to change, but it never did. The smaller version of himself continued to cry, waiting, hoping that someone, anyone would come and comfort him. But no one ever came, Pyro thought, slouching his head forward and closing his eyes.
But don’t you… remember…?
Suddenly, the past and present began to mirror each other as Pyro and his younger counterpart both jerked their heads up, one in surprize, the other in realization. That’s right. I remember… it was you. Slowly, a blanket of warmth spread itself over him, just as it had done all those years ago. The warmth he had thought he had imagined, made up to make himself feel better in the moment. It was an embrace, filled with love and longing. It was the embrace… of a father he had never known.
Remember… you are my… little warrior… and I will never leave you.
Pyro turned, coming to stand on all four hooves as he did so. What he saw was the ghost like image of an older, soot-black stallion, with rose-red eyes and a fiery blue mane streaked with gray. The ghost smiled, its tired eyes never leaving Pyro. The moment didn’t last long. Before long, Pyro Comet began to fade, turning to dust and blowing away. But as he disappeared, he left Pyro with one last thing.
You are more… than you could ever imagine…. You are strong… you are brave… you have the power to change who you are… and the world around you…. You are Pyro Mance… last of the great Pyro family… and my son…. Whenever you fill the darkness creeping in around you… remember… I… we… will always love you.
Comet’s presence slowly faded from Pyro’s mind, but at the same time, Pyro had never felt more surrounded by love and care. All at once, Pyro was once again standing in front of the tiny ember of magic, two memories floating to each side of the flame. One was of him, enraged, flaming, black-eyed, and out of control, while the other showed his family and all the happiness they had shared, no matter how brief. He knew he had a choice to make, and he didn’t hesitate for a second. He pushed away his rage and fury, and grabbed onto all the happiness he had ever known. The flame began to grow, becoming hotter and hotter as it grew from an ember, into a flame, into a fire, and soon, into a raging inferno. Not one that wished swallow him up and devour everything he was, but one that held him close, filled him with warmth, and filled him with happiness.
Pyro’s eyes flew open within the executioner’s cart, and, without much thought, he grabbed the magic inside and began to position it along strategic points of his body. First, he focused heat into his horn, slowly melting through the enchanted rings. When the last ring fell to the ground, he felt his magic soar to new heights. He focused on each of the shackles, repeating the process for all of them. He turned to the door and started to make his way toward it, but stopped when he heard voices. There were guards outside. He looked all around, but stopped when he looked at the floor.
With a smile, he ignited his horn, unleashing a thin, intense beam of flame into the floor, making a quick circle. Before completing the circle, he used his unicorn magic to keep the cut-out from falling with him on top. He stepped to the side, bringing the wooden plate up and setting it to the side.
He poked his head out of the bottom of the cart, looking around to make sure no one had heard anything. Upon seeing that the two guards outside the wagon were oblivious and that there were no other guards, he slid out of the hole, lowering himself to his belly. Taking quick glances behind him and at the guards, he began to scoot backwards towards the rear of the wagon. Once free, he stood up, putting his back to the wooden cart.
He looked around to make sure no one had heard him. His eyes settled on a house, the biggest building on the plantation; Grimwrik Manor. Anger once again pushed itself to the forefront of his mind. He stood there, staring, for a while before looking off into the distance, into the wastelands that were his only chance of escaping. He knew that he should take that route, that he should let go of his anger… but after so long, he couldn’t do it. With a jerk of his head, he turned back to the manor and stealthily made his way towards it.
Author's Note
So, is anyone else confused about what just happened?
As usual, if you see any mistakes, let me know in the comments below with the rest of your thoughts, and have a great day!
Tales of The Wasteland Wanderer
Chapter 4- Fork in the Road
Chapter 4- Fork in the Road
Pyro Mance slowly opened the door to the plantation manor with a creak. He took a peek around the door into the room he had come into. It was no more than a transition room, where one could clean of their hooves or claws before entering the house. He slowly crept inside, slowly letting the door return to its resting place so as to make sure that it did not slam shut.
Once that was done, he turned to the inside and made his way deeper into the lion’s den. Upon exiting the transition room, he found himself in a sort of sitting room, filled with plush and pompous chairs and couches. The sight of it made Pyro sick, bile climbing its way up his throat. How could this monster live in such luxury while hundreds of slaves stood right outside, working themselves to death, all to make sure his cushy lifestyle stayed the way it was.
His anger fueled to new heights, he continued on, eventually coming to the kitchen. Silver pots and pans hung everywhere, some swaying on their hooks as he walked past. The counters gleamed, even with the little light the moon provided. He walked along beside the counter, coming to a stop in front of the only thing that had interested him thus far; a wooden block filled with knives. He pulled each one out, inspecting it, until he found the biggest knife. He held in his magic, twisting it around so he could see all sides.
Satisfied, he made his way out of the kitchen. He wandered around until he found a staircase. Following a hunch, he crept up the wooden steps. Once on the second story, he looked around and saw nothing but doors all around him. He started down the hallway, moving his head from side to side in order to glance at each door as he passed. Every door looked the same, each identical to the last, without a single detail to tell them apart. He shook his head. There was no way for him to tell which room belonged to Grimwrik, and he couldn’t just start opening doors. His luck would eventually run out, and he would alert someone to his presence.
He eventually decided that the best thing to do was search the rest of the manor to see what he could. He made his way back to the stairwell, knife bobbing around in his yellow magic the entire time. He made his way up to the third floor, which was one big open space, filled with tables and other attractions that he had no idea about. There was one table covered in green fabric, holes in each corner and two in the center on opposite sides of each other. Another table, this one oval in shape with one chair facing five others. It was also covered in green fabric, but this time white patterns criss-crossed over it. He walked between each table, looking over each one. After looking down at each one, he took another look around the room. His eyes finally fell on a second stairway at the back of the room that had escaped his notice. He walked towards it, and stared up into the darkness beyond the stairs.
He slowly made his way up, making sure not to let a sound reveal his presence. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he found himself in a hallway, and, there at the end of the hallway, was the most elaborate set of double-doors he had yet to see. In that moment, he knew. He made his way towards the door. When he reached the door, he took the handle in his magic, pushing it down slowly, and swinging the door open even slower. He peeked his head into the room, and took a look around. It was a fairly large room with two other doors leading to a bathroom and the other to a large closet. The room was extravagantly decorated, chest-of-drawers, tables, and other furniture giving the room a homey but imperial feel to it. But none of that really interested Pyro. No, what really caught his attention was the enormous, custom bed with a single figure lying within. The slow rise and fall of the figure showed that it was sleeping.
Pyro crept into the room, careful not to let the door squeak or groan. He made his way slowly to the side of the bed where he found exactly what he was looking for; Grimwrik, blissfully snoring in his slumber, limbs giving slight twitches every now and again. Pyro stared down at the sleeping hybrid, thinking over all the times he had thought about this moment, of all the hate he had for this monster that had taken everything from him. He began to raise the knife in his magic, bringing it to stop high above the hybrid’s chest. Grimwrik gave a snort in his sleep and shifted, unknowingly opening his already vulnerable chest even more to the oncoming attack. For a few moments, Pyro simply stood there, savoring the moment. He raised the knife a little a higher and tensed up, ready to drive the knife into Grimwrik’s heart. But, just as he jerked the blade downwards, a gasp sounded out behind him. He turned swiftly, brandishing the knife in front of him, prepared for anything. Or so he thought.
Standing in the doorway leading to the bathroom, a pale blue, earth pony mare with a dark violet mane had her hoof raised to her mouth, eyes open wide. For several moments, both ponies simply stared at each other, both shocked by the other’s presence. Slowly, the mare lowered her hoof, her features changing from a look of surprise and fear to something more akin to understanding. She made her way across the room, coming to a stop a foot away from the still floating knife. She glanced down at the knife, and then back up at Pyro, looking him in the eyes. After a few seconds went by, she looked to the floor, closed her eyes, and sighed.
“I knew this day would come,” she spoke quietly, opening her eyes. “The way he treats the slaves, how he keeps the plantation going. I’ve told him time and again to rein in his handlers, and to be more gentle with the ponies that work the fields. I was beginning to think that I was getting through to him.” She brought her gaze back up to look at Pyro. “But I guess it’s too little, too late.”
Pyro simply stood there, completely stunned. His mind raced a million miles a minute, trying to figure out exactly what was being said, and trying to find the next logical move. At some point, his mind stopped working, one question burning in his mind. “Who are you?”
The mare smiled, slightly looking to the side. She turned back to Pyro, a look of knowing spread across her features. “My name is Meadow Bonnet, and, like you, I was once a slave. I worked on a different plantation for most of my life, before along came Grimwrik. He was terrifying, but, at the same time, regal and handsome. I was made to serve them as my master and Grimwrik talked of business. I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and it cost me. I ended up stumbling, and spilled coffee on the carpet. My master was furious. He began yelling and stomping around, even went to strike me. I closed my eyes, awaiting my punishment, but, when nothing happened, I opened my eyes. Grimwrik had caught my master’s claw before he could bring it down. He looked down at me, and told me to leave them. I did so quickly, and went and hid in one of the slave quarters amongst the other mares. After a time, the door opened and Grimwrik stepped in. He sought me out and told me to come with him. I rode back to his estate with him in his carriage. He made me a maid in his household, and for years I served him. One day, out of the blue, he asked me to marry him. I was stunned to be sure, I of course accepted. We wed and I have spent the last fifteen years by his side.”
With her story at an end, both ponies simply stood in the darkness, the only sound disturbing the silence being Grimwrik’s snores. Pyro looked at this mare, a pony that had been a slave her entire life, and wondered how on Equis she could have possibly fallen for this tyrant. A being so dark and evil that all others in his field of work feared him. He simply could not wrap his head around the idea.
“Why do you want to kill him?”
The question caught Pyro off guard, dragging him out of his thoughts. When he finally processed the question, his face grew dim, anger once again replacing all other emotions. “He took everything from me,” the colt eventually spoke up, turning to stare at the monster that was the source of his nightmare. The knife had been sinking slowly downward as they had been speaking, coming to rest a few inches from the floor, but now it began to tremble as Pyro’s magic responded to his rage. “He executed my father before I was born, he sold my sister to the highest bidder, and he let his handlers work my mother until she collapsed from exhaustion. I’ve lost everyone that I’ve ever loved, and been forced to work for the monster that took them from me. For years I’ve been beaten, starved, overworked, and thrown around, all for HIS benefit!” By this point, Pyro was trembling, his wrath filling his entire being.
Soft hoof-steps behind him told him that Meadow was slowly coming closer, but he didn’t care. The only thing he could think about was the being sleeping in front of him. He wanted to make him pay, to suffer for all the wrong he had caused him. The knife began to slowly rise back into position. He was once again ready to plunge the blade into the hybrid’s chest, when he felt something soft wrap around him, not in threatening or restricting way, but as some sort of comfort. Pyro’s eyes widened, the sudden shock causing him to once again hesitate.
“What will killing my husband solve?”
Another question, and, just like the first, it caught him completely off guard. He stood there, rolling the question roll around in his mind. What would this accomplish? How would this change anything? He was still going to run away, the only difference this would make is that they would come after him, or at least be more motivated to do so. After several minutes, he could only come up with one answer.
“It will solve the pain in my heart.”
“And what of my heart? What happens after you kill him and I’m left here all alone?”
Pyro winced. She had a point. Could he really go through with this? Could he really get rid of all the pain in his heart, just to put it into the heart of another? Someone who had gone through the same things he had, no less. Slowly, he started to lower the knife… only to have something darker take hold.
The yellow aura of his magic began to lose its color, slowly morphing into a deep, dark red. Pyro’s eyes began to burn and itch, and he knew that, if he looked into a mirror, he would see that his eyes would be changing from blue to black. But that worst had yet to come. What came next would, unbeknownst to him, decide his fate.
Kill him…
A dark myriad of voices began ringing out in his head, crashing into his consciousness, trying to force him to commit the dark deed. He struggled against the voices, straining to keep control of his own body and magic.
N-no…
KILL him…
I w-won’t…
Do it… Kill him….
But… Meadow Bonnet….
She is… irrelevant… kill them BOTH….
Pyro’s eyes widened, the last phrase getting to him. They wanted him to kill her, an innocent pony that hadn’t done anything to him, or to any other pony for that matter. They wanted him to hurt her, to take her life.
No… I refuse….
You will… you have no choice....
He fought back with all he had, but still the voices pressed, slowly bringing his resolve to its knees. He could hardly resist the voices any longer, but he couldn’t let them win. He couldn’t let them hurt Meadow. No, he wouldn’t let them hurt her!
That’s it… fight them….
D-dad…?
Yes… keep fighting….
But they’re so strong….
You are… stronger….
Pyro began straining harder, trying desperately to fend off the voices. Yet they continued to beat on his mind, pushing him further and further out of control.
Dad… I c-can’t…. They’re s-so strong….
Then… we will… fight them… TOGETHER…!
A rush of strength flowed through him, and slowly, they began to regain control. The became enraged, fighting like one beast to swallow father and son alike. The fight felt like it lasted hours, but the struggle only lasted a few moments. Together, Pyro junior and senior had pushed the voices back into a corner of his mind.
Now… we must… seal them… away….
How…?
Imagine… a chest… as solid… and… inescapable… as possible….
In his mind’s eye, Pyro conjured up a box, made completely of metal, what kind he didn’t know, but stronger than any he knew of. The box had no seams, no lid or opening. Pyro focused on the box making it less tangible.
Alright, it’s ready….
Then… together….
The pair began to shove against the dark being(s), pushing them/it into the box. It took all of their concentration, all of their combined strength, but after several moments they pushed the darkness into the box.
You cannot win… we will escape… and when we do… we will have you…!
Pyro slammed the box back together, the voices fading from angry shouts, to whispers, and finally into nothing.
Thanks, dad… you really saved my flank… dad…? DAD…?
I’m… here… but… I am… weak… very… weak… I must… rest… I will not… be able… to speak… with… you… until I… regain… my… strength… take care… my son….
And with that, Pyro felt his father’s presence leave him. He opened his eyes and sat down hard, panting and sweating. He looked around, and found that the knife had been buried into the headrest of the bed, its occupant none the wiser as Grimwrik continued to slumber. He turned his head and saw Meadow Bonnet cowering in the corner. She looked terrified.
“Are you alright?” Pyro asked quietly, still panting. The mare simply nodded, slowly seeming to calm down. Pyro turned back around and took a few more moments to catch his breath. He finally stood up, and, taking the knife in his magic, removed it from the headboard. He turned to Meadow Bonnet, who was looking at him with a mix of fear and confusion. He looked at her, then to the knife, and came to an understanding. He put the blade on the floor, and made his way towards her. She seemed to calm down a little, but still didn’t move away from the wall.
“What was that?” she asked.
“I’m not entirely sure myself,” he replied, shrugging. He stopped a few feet away from her. The young colt looked at her, thinking through the events of the night. Thoughts and questions ran rampant through his mind, leading him to ask a question. “Why did you hug me?”
Meadow seemed to be taken aback, before she softened. “Because,” she started, getting up and moving to sit in front of him. “I saw a young, confused, and angry pony that was in so much pain that he wanted to make others feel the same… and, when I looked at him, I saw myself. When I was a slave, I spent years hating my master, wishing that he would just die. After marrying Grimwrik, I realized just how much that anger had affected me, and how lucky I was that someone had come along and taken it all away.”
Both ponies stared at each other, neither knowing what more to say. After a while, Pyro got up, went and picked the knife back up, and started walking back to the door. As he opened the ornate door, Meadow stopped him.
“You could stay here,” she said from her position across the room. Pyro turned his head to look at her, before sighing and looking away from her.
“Thank you… but I can’t,” he said, never looking back at her. “There’s nothing here but anger and bad memories. I’m leaving, and never coming back.” And so he left. He closed the door, walked down the hallway, down the stairs, passed the strange tables, down more stairs, through the kitchen where he replaced the knife on his way out.
He finally made his way out of the mansion, and looked out over the horizon. He started walking, never looking back. The path had been split before him, and he had made a choice. He was powerful, extraordinarily so, and he knew it, but he decided then and there that he would never use that power to hurt anyone out of spite. He had chosen his path, and it was his path to travel. And travel he would, so much so that, one day, people would tell tales of the Wasteland Wanderer.
End Freedom Arc
Author's Note
And so ends the first arc of Pyro's life. How will he survive the desert landscape of waste? Now that he is free, what other abilities will he unlock? Who will be the first pony to meet him? Hm, I should get my friend, Guard, in on this... now where did he go?
Thank you everyone that reads this story. I want this to be something that entertains and keeps everyone excited. I really appreciate all of you. I can't wait to continue with the next arc- Lessons. I hope You will all stay with me on this journey. As usual, if you see a mistake let me know in the comments below along with the rest of your thoughts. I'll see you guys in the next one, but until then have a great day!
Tales of The Wasteland Wanderer
Arc 2- Lessons -Start
Chapter 5- Survival
Wind howled across the sands, blowing grit wherever it may. Cacti swayed in the same wind, their needles occasionally clicking together. The sun beat down on Pyro as he traversed this terrain. It had been almost three weeks since he had left the plantation, and immediately things proved to be more difficult than the colt had expected. However, he wasn’t stupid.
For the first three days he had watched what little wildlife the desert sustained, learning all the little tricks they used to survive. The birds had been especially helpful, showing him the easiest way to get both food and water. They would land on a cactus, peck a hole into the flesh of the plant, and drink from the small stream of water that came after. For Pyro, this was a simple task. He would grab a piece of the cactus in his unicorn magic and sever it from the rest of the plant using his fire. Plucking the quills was easy as well, thanks to his magic, and simply eating the plant was enough to sustain him for a few days.
Because he would go days without food, his body had thinned down even further, if that was possible. However, thanks to his years of slavery, Pyro was nothing more than muscle at this point. This caused him to overheat quickly during the day, so he would spend his in whatever shade he could find, resting and sleeping the day away. This left him to travel at night, which, while the temperature dipped far below freezing, didn’t bother him. His inner fire helped him in that regard.
And that had been Pyro’s life for the last three weeks. Fill his belly with cactus, sleep during the day, and travel at night. He hadn’t spotted anyone in the entire time he had been out in the desert, but this didn’t stop him. He just kept marching on.
Oh, who am I kidding!?! I’m completely lost, Pyro thought to himself, something he did quite often. He stopped next to a mesa, sitting down and placing his back against the rock formation. He hadn’t seen any cacti in days, and he was slowly running out of energy to keep up his inner flame. “Well, no good crying about it,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe I’ll have better luck tomorrow.” And, with that, he curled up and fell asleep. The sun’s rays beat down on the mesa, heating it and the surrounding rock quickly. Pyro, still asleep in the small patch of shadow cast by the formation and a nearby bush, slumbered peacefully, the angry waves of the sun unable to reach him. A blissful dream had overtaken him, a dream in which he sat in a house in a far off land, surrounded by a family he did not know, but nonetheless they were happy. As the young colt slept on, a third shadow joined the other two covering Pyro in their shade.
Slowly, Pyro’s dream came to an end, and the heat of the world around him began to sink in. He uncurled slightly, but kept his eyes closed, hesitant to release the realm of dreams. Hesitant that is, until he felt the sands and earth shifting around him in a familiar pattern; someone was watching him. He kept his breath shallow but steady, keeping still to keep up the illusion of sleep. And he stayed that way for several minutes, waiting for whatever it was to leave.
The sands continued to shift, but, eventually, the shifts got further and further away from him. Still he did not move, wanting to make sure that he was indeed completely alone. After many more long minutes, Pyro breathed out, letting go of the breath he had been restricting. He let his limbs unfurl, stretching them as far as he could to get the soreness out of his body. He still had yet to open his eyes, and, before he did so, he flipped himself over on his back, stretching again. With his muscles relaxed and sleep completely gone from him, he opened his eyes… only to look into a pair of green eyes.
“Ah!” Pyro yelled out, rolling to one side and pressing his back against another part of the mesa. His chest heaved, trying to regain the breath the scare had knocked out of him. As his mind calmed itself, he focused on what had scared him… and found himself looking at a dark gray pegasus stallion with a dark blue mane and tail, wings working silently to keep him in the air, and a look of unamusement spread across his face.
The old stallion slowly lowered himself, coming to rest a few feet in front of Pyro. “Sorry about that. Didn’t think you’d be so jumpy,” the pegasus stated, trying to calm the colt down. Pyro kept his back against the rock, but his breath was slowly restoring itself, and his fright was leaving him, instead being replaced by annoyance.
“What the hay!” Pyro yelled, getting to his hooves. “Didn’t anyone ever tell it’s rude to watch others sleep?”
“Actually, no pony’s ever told me much of anything,” the stallion replied, waving his hoof dismissively. Pyro just stared, eye twitching, confusion written all over his face. Who was this pony, and why did he get the strangest feeling from him? After a while, he just shook his head.
“You know what, it doesn’t matter,” Pyro said. “It was real nice meeting you, but I gotta go.”
“Where to?”
Pyro stopped dead in his tracks and let out a sigh. What was with ponies and asking him all these questions? “I don’t know,” he answered through gritted teeth, “wherever you’re not.”
“Yeesh, tough crowd,” the stallion said, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned to continue talking to Pyro, but started when he didn’t see him. He looked around and spotted Pyro already a good distance away. He frowned. “Damn it, Soldier, can’t any of your Imagines just stand still?”
Pyro was breaking one of his cardinal rules, never travel during the day, but he’d do just about anything to get away from the crazy pegasus. Who knows, maybe he was just a hallucination, he thought.
“Are you really this stupid?”
Pyro jumped, turning around and around to see who had spoken. He finally stopped, jerking his head up to find the gray pony hovering above him. Pyro let out a snort. “Why are you following me?” he asked irritably, choosing to ignore the jab to his intelligence.
“Simple,” the stallion replied, shrugging his shoulders. “I was wondering why you would be moving away from the best source of water in this Council-forsaken wasteland.”
“What are you talking about?” Pyro didn’t want to have anything to do with this pony, but if he could lead him to water, he could stand him. Besides, if he proved to be a threat, well, Pyro had faced worse.
“Duh, the plateau,” the mystery pony replied, pointing back towards the mesa. “It’s the biggest oasis in the entirety of Waste.! Didn’t you smell it?”
Pyro looked past the hovering pony to the mesa, raising an eyebrow. He looked back to the hovering pegasus without moving his head. “First off, that’s a mesa,” Pyro listed, pointing to the land formation. “Secondly, how do you smell water?”
The pony’s eye began to twitch, before he sighed and face-hoofed. When he finally stopped shaking his head and removed his hoof from his face, he looked to Pyro with the look of a parent that had had just about enough. “Look, just follow me, or stay out here and die of thirst. Your choice.” With that said, he turned around and starting flying back to the mesa. Pyro stayed put for a moment before shrugging and following after the odd stallion.
Pyro’s hoof came over the edge of the mesa, slamming down and pulling him onto the top of the enormous land form. He rolled over onto his back, gasping for breath and sweating profusely. The crunch of gravel drew his attention to further on the mesa top where the gray stallion stood, looking as if nothing had happened. Pyro narrowed his eyes at the old pegasus. “You… could have… warned me,” he said between breaths, still glaring at the pony.
“Not my fault you didn’t do the obvious,” came the reply, the pegasus ruffling his wings. Pyro narrowed his eyes further.
“And what, pray tell, is the obvious?”
“Levitation.”
The answer was so simple, it caught Pyro by surprise. Of course, why didn’t I think of that?
“Or your flames.”
At this, Pyro caught his breath. In fact, he stopped everything. He looked at the pegasus from the corner of his eye. How did he know about that? Magic was obvious, he was a unicorn after all, but to know about his fire? He hadn’t revealed any of his unnatural power to the stranger, and yet he still seemed to know. But the question is, does this make him a threat.
“I wouldn’t do anything drastic,” the old pony stated, seeming to read his mind. Pyro reacted just as any other pony; he jumped into the air, spinning and coming down several paces away.
“Who the hay are you?” Pyro asked, taking up a fighting stance, his mane and tail igniting in blue and yellow flame.
The pegasus simply stood in place for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. He finally looked at Pyro, his gaze betraying nothing but cold steel. “I am called Guard, and I came here to help you.”
Pyro snorted. “That’s a load of crap if ever I heard one.” The flames on Pyro’s head and back began to grow in intensity. “Now,” Pyro growled, “if you don’t tell me what you’re actually doing here, I’m going to turn you into a pile of ash.”
Guard stared, his eyes hardened into those of an old veteran that had seen many years of war. “I’m here to help you. To teach you how control your powers, and to let go of your anger.”
“I don’t need lessons from you,” Pyro nearly shouted, teeth grinding together. “Buck off, before I make you!”
Guard was unamused. “Very well,” he said, taking up a fighting stance of his own before turning a cold look at the flaming colt. “Make me.”
“AH!!!” Pyro cried out, launching himself across the ground with his fire skates. He closed the distance between himself and Guard almost instantaneously, dropping low as he reached his target before leaping upwards to deliver a fiery uppercut. But Guard was no fool.
He moved up and to the side, dodging the attack. Pyro responded by using his fire skates to spin him in the air to deliver a kick to the old stallion’s skull. Guard dodged again, bringing his and shoulders low before twisting his hind legs around his fore legs, bending, twisting, and skidding away from the fiery youth. Pyro hit the ground and spun, bringing Guard back into view. He wasted no time and launched himself at the pegasus, pulling his hoof back for a powerful jab.
Again, Guard dodged the blow, and that is how the fight went. Pyro spinning and twisting, utilizing every aspect of his flame to increase the ferocity of his strikes, but Guard, demonstrating skill and prowess honed by years of practice, easily dodged every blow. At this point Pyro was beginning to get frustrated, coming to a halt across from Guard, once again gasping for air. Guard, however, hadn’t even broken a sweat. Realizing close combat was pointless, Pyro combed his brain for new strategies.
Is this pony even, well, a pony? Pyro thought to himself, still catching his breath and searching for a new plan. Come on, there’s gotta be something! Then it hit him, and a grin spread itself across his face. Seeing this, Guard’s brow furrowed and his stance changed.
“I know what you’re planning,” he warned, “and if you go through with it I will not hold back.”
“Good!” Pyro called back. “I won’t, either!” Pyro launched himself skyward, hovering in midair above the battlefield. He looked down and saw Guard running away from him, towards the center of the mesa. “Stupid old fool.” He began building up fire around his horn, generating a huge ball of concentrated heat. Guard continued running. Here goes! Pyro thought, yelling as he threw the ball of flame towards his opponent. And still Guard ran, not turning to block the attack or swerving to avoid it, only straight forward… until he jumped into the air.
He brought his hoof back, as if to punch the ground, and that’s when Pyro saw it. The bottom of Guard’s hoof was adorned with a purple spell circle, and it was glowing. Guard came down, and with a cry of, “STABILIZE!” he smashed his hoof into the ground, cracking the rock as a larger version of the spell circle spread out around him. A bubble of magenta formed around the center of the mesa, covering a good portion of it… but not Guard. The sphere of red hot flames slammed into the mesa around Guard, engulfing him.
What was all that about? Pyro thought, coming back down to land on the ground. The mesa top was in flames, burning with such intensity that even Pyro flinched away from it. “Whatever it was, it’s over now,” he said out loud before turning towards the edge of the mesa.
“Where are you going?”
Pyro stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide. He spun in place, and watched as the flames were blown apart and a figure started walking out of the flames. The figure lifted one of its limbs over the opposite shoulder before throwing it out to his side. The force generated created a gale wind so powerful that the flames were blown away. With the flames extinguished, Pyro got a clear view of the figure, and his normally fiery heart ran cold. There, standing among scorch marks and ruin, the magenta dome still in place, stood Guard… on his hind legs.
Guard stared at Pyro, eyes hard as steel. “Combat transformation,” he said, deathly calm, “Anthropomorphism.” He started stalking towards Pyro, the circle on his hoof radiating power. Pyro’s body started moving on its own, scrambling backwards to get away from this monstrous power. He only stopped when he felt his rear hood slide off the edge. He turned and found the edge of the mesa.
“Maybe next time you’ll listen.” Pyro felt the breath on the back of his neck. He only had time to turn his head. He got sight of the hoof flying at his head just in time to feel a sharp pain arc through his temple. His vision went black and he knew no more….
Author's Note
*door opens and closes* Guard? Guard, where are you? *spots computer* Well, might as well see what he's up to. *reads* Dang it, Guard! Get out of my story! You're not supposed to intervene! ...Good chapter, though....
Welcome back everyone. Arc 2 has begun and with it Pyro faces a whole new onslaught of obstacles. What exactly is Guard up to, and how will Pyro respond to Guard's "help?" If you spot any mistakes, leave them in the comments below with any other thoughts you have. Thank you, and have an awesome day!
Tales of The Wasteland Wanderer
Chapter 6- Oasis
Pyro stirred with a groan, his head pounding. He lifted his hoof to his aching head, feeling the bump that had formed there. He sat up, shaking his head, trying to clear the fog in his mind. The last thing he remembered was looking down the side of the mesa, and then…. His eyes shot open as he lurched to his feet, only to sit down hard, the pain in his head crashing over him.
“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you.”
Pyro jerked his head around. His head cried out in protest, but he ignored it, not wanting to take his eyes off the gray pegasus for a second. Guard was sitting a few feet away with his back turned. “I’m afraid I hit you a bit harder than I intended,” the older stallion said, never turning around.
Pyro snorted. “What is that supposed be? An apology?”
“No,” Guard said, bringing his hooves up out of a stream and shaking them dry. “It was a warning, of sorts.” He turned only to find Pyro with his head tilted, confusion clear on his face. Guard sighed, closing his eyes and bringing a hoof to his face. “Think about it,” he said, taking his hoof away, “if I managed to do that while holding back… what could I have done if I hadn’t been.”
The cogs turned in Pyro’s mind, the answer still not quite clear to him. Then it clicked, his eyes widening in realization. “Y-you’re a monster!” he said, scooting away slightly.
Guard only chuckled in response. “I’ve been called worse,” he said, shrugging and coming to a stop a short distance from Pyro. “Although, I have to say, being forced to use the transformation spell was a bit of a surprise.” Pyro could only stare… and stare… and stare. Over time, Guard began to frown, and his frown got deeper… and deeper… and deeper.
“So,” Guard finally spoke at length, breaking through the awkward silence. “Want something to eat?” Pyro had sunk into his own thoughts at this point, so the sudden question caught him off guard.
“Um, sure?” he finally replied, blinking away his confusion. They sat for a moment, neither of them moving.
“Right,” Guard said before turning and leading Pyro away, the silence persisting afterwards. As they walked, Pyro took in his surroundings. He had apparently been taken to the oasis the gray stallion had mentioned earlier. Palm trees loomed high above them, creating a thin canopy over them, and a small stream flowed past them, the trickling sound making Pyro’s thirst call out to be quenched. Guard caught him staring at the stream as he glanced over his shoulder. “Go ahead,” he called back, causing Pyro to look at him. “I’m in no hurry.”
Pyro looked between Guard and the stream a few times before making his way to the edge of the water. He leaned his head down and took a sip from the stream. His eyes flew open as the cool liquid made it’s way down his dry throat, leaving a sweet taste on his tongue and making him feel full of life. Pyro broke into a grin before plunging his head back to the water, drinking greedily. Guard simply watched from afar, a small smile spreading across his features at the colt’s antics. Before finishing, Pyro thrust his head under the water and held it there for a moment before bringing it out again, slinging droplets of water as he slung his head back.
Pyro turned back to Guard, a huge smile plastered to his face, only to find Guard trembling. The smile slowly melted from his lips as Pyro watched him, debating whether the next step should be forwards or backwards. “Uh, Mr. Guard,” he began slowly, “are you okay?” Guard suddenly burst into laughter, throwing his head back, flipping onto his back with the force of it. Pyro frowned. “Hey!” He yelled. “What’s so funny!?!”
Guard continued laughing, his legs giving the occasional twitch. “Y-your,” Guard gasped out between howls of laughter. “Your MANE!!!” Pyro narrowed his eyes at the older pegasus, not taking the glare away from him as he stepped back towards the stream. He pulled his gaze away from the still guffawing stallion to look into the reflective surface of the water. Sure enough, his mane was soaked and hanging down on his head like someone had poured a bowl of noodles over his head. He looked back to Guard to find that he had finally stopped laughing, and was now staring at him. Upon seeing the look on Pyro’s face, Guard did his best not to go into another fit of laughter.
Pyro glared at him. “It’s. Not. Funny.” He said, putting emphasis on each word. With that, Guard couldn’t hold it any longer. He burst into laughter once again, even louder than before. Pyro glared at the old stallion… but the joy was to infectious to resist. Soon, Pyro’s frown began to morph into a grin, and, slowly, he started chuckling, and that changed into laughter. It wasn’t long before Pyro was laughing just as hard as Guard was, maybe even more so. They laughed for a good while, both rolling in the soft dust in their mirth. They eventually came to a stop next to each other, each one gasping for air.
“Oh, that was a good one, kid,” Guard said, a smile still playing on his lips. Pyro could only close his eyes and nod, a smile on his face as well. They finally got their breath back, calming down with a final sigh. They sat there for a moment, grinning and soaking in the moment. After a while, the awkward silence ruled again, neither pony knowing what to say next. “So,” Guard began, just as he had before. “What were we doing again?” Pyro opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by twin growls that echoed through the trees. Both ponies looked at each other, eyes wide in shock. “Oh, right… food.”
Pyro bit into his peach, letting the sweet juices flow down his chin. It was the third peach he had eaten, and he didn’t show any sign of slowing down. Not only was it the sweetest thing he’d ever eaten, but it was also slowly getting the taste of cactus out of his mouth. Thank the celestials for that, he thought to himself. He looked over to Guard who was slowly making his way through an apricot.
After their little laughing fit, Guard had led him further into the oasis to a thicket of fruit trees. Guard had identified each of the fruits for him; apricots, dates, figs, and peaches. Pyro had gone for the peaches, seeing as they were the only fruit he had even heard of. Biting into the first peach had been like heaven on Equis. It was sweet, even the bitter flesh being drowned out in its flavor, and the softness of the fruit was almost relaxing after so many weeks of nothing but cactus. He had devoured the first two in order to fill his belly, but he took his time with the third, savoring every bite.
After swallowing the final bite of his fifth peach, he let out a contented sigh and leaned back against the tree. He closed his eyes, the fullness of his belly making him drowsy. He felt his touch on reality slowly slipping away….
“Alright, kid,” Guard said, bringing Pyro back from the brink of slumber. Pyro blinked his eyes, shedding the sleep that had been wrapping itself around him. “It’s time we talked.”
Pyro looked at him skeptically. “What do we have to talk about?” he asked.
“Who you are and where you come from, for one.”
“Well, that’s easy,” Pyro said, a small frown forming on his lips. “My name is Pyro Mance, and I was a slave. There, happy?”
“I’m not talking about your name, and what you used to be,” Guard said in exasperation. “I’m talking about what you are, your origins.”
Pyro’s frown deepened. “Both my parents were slaves. I never met my father, and my mother died years ago. They were slaves, I was a slave, what else is there to tell?” Guard sighed, shaking his head a little. Pyro felt his anger rising, slowly reaching towards his inner flame. “Well, Mr. Smart Guy, what else is there!?!” Pyro yelled out, getting to his hooves.
“Sit down.” It was a simple statement, not even very loud, but a primal force carried it forward with enough might that Pyro was pushed back down onto his haunches. Guard let loose another sigh. “Look kid, I’m not here to be the bad guy,” he started again. “I just want you to understand everything you are, everything you can be.”
Pyro only stared at him, still shocked by the force of Guard’s words while confusion at his last statement mixed itself into his emotional spectrum. “What… I can be?” he finally questioned, when his mind finally managed to catch up to the situation.
Guard nodded. “You’re not like every other pony,” he stated. “You’re something else.” When Pyro didn’t show any signs of understanding, Guard continued. “Haven’t you felt it? That power… the voices.”
At the mention of the cursed apparitions, Pyro’s eyes widened, his hooves digging trenches into the ground as he drove his back into the tree, trying to get away. “H-how did you know about them?” he asked, lurching his head back and forth as if a predator would leap from the bushes and devour him.
“I know a lot of things.” The simple statement caused Pyro to once again focus on the stallion in front of him. “For example,” Guard continued, “your mother’s name was Spring Mint-”
“Stop…”
“Your sister’s talent is her voice-”
“Stop.”
“And your father was executed trying to keep you sa-”
“I SAID STOP!!!”
Pyro had slowly been getting to his feet as Guard had been going on, his anger rising with every wound reopened, but the last bit had pushed him to far. His mane, tail, and hooves had burst into pure blue and white flames, incinerating a good amount of the vegetation around him, even taking a large chunk out of the tree behind him. Pyro glared at Guard, the fire in his soul reaching his bright blue eyes, his teeth clenched and jaw set.
“How dare you talk about my family like you knew them,” Pyro growled out, smoke escaping his lips and nostrils with every word. “You don’t know anything,” he continued, starting to walk towards the unfazed pegasus. “You don’t know my pain... my suffering… my longing.” At this point, Pyro stood right in front of Guard, his flames all but licking at the older stallion’s chin... but Guard hadn’t so much as batted an eye.
“You’re right kid,” Guard began, staring down at the flaming colt. “I don’t know anything about that… but I know one thing.” Guard stared straight into Pyro’s eyes. “If you don’t get this under control, you’re going to hurt yourself.” The powerful gaze caused Pyro to shutter, his words striking the message home, but Pyro’s pride wouldn’t let him back down.
“So, what do you suppose I do?” Pyro said pointedly, not letting his intimidation show through.
Guard didn’t let up on his stare. In fact, it only intensified. “I suppose,” he growled out. “You start listening.”
Then Pyro felt it; a deep, dark cold that was creeping into the environment, snuffing out all heat. Pyro felt the flames across his body start to diminish, cooling down from the pure and intense flame to a low burn. Pyro’s pupils shrank as his teeth started to chatter, and the cold crept into his body. It was a feeling he had never experienced. His inner flame had always kept him warm, even when he hadn’t been aware of it, but now the cold was taking over, almost in a suffocating way. That’s when it hit him. Pyro moved his gaze down slowly, breaking the battle of wills the two had been engaged in. His eyes finally fell on Guard’s hoof. Cold steam poured out from beneath it, a purple glow accompanying the dense fog. His pupils shrank, eyes widening, and his flame finally went out as terror washed through him.
He moved his gaze back towards Guard’s eyes, settling on the cold, steely gaze. “Are you done now?” Guard asked, frost snaking through his words. Pyro’s only response was to nod. “Good.” The glow started to dim, the temperature rising back to where it had been before either of them had begun their displays of power. Pyro took the chance to look around at their surroundings, and stopped. The grove of fruit trees was in ruins. Wherever Pyro had been, scorch marks covered the ground and the plant life withered, but on the opposite side, Guard’s frost had frozen any surviving plant life solid, some of the leaves crumbling away like icy dust. What have we done? Pyro thought to himself. Their only source of food had been mangled and destroyed beyond repair.
“Scary, isn’t it?” Guard’s words cut through his thoughts like a knife. He hadn’t realized he had been turning in place, but he didn’t even bother turning around, only shook his head in disbelief of the carnage. “All the power we have, as strong as we are,” Guard continued, using the moment to hammer in his message. “It’s almost… indescribable.”
“But, I didn’t mean-”
“We never mean to,” Guard interrupted. “It is a result of our power and pride. Without control this is what happens.” Guard stopped, giving the young unicorn a chance to absorb his words. “Luckily, there are precautions.”
Pyro started as a wave went through the ground, all the damage caused by the stand off disappearing except for the area where Pyro had first burst into flames. Pyro was in complete disbelief. “H-how did you-”
“It’s the same spell I used to protect the oasis when we first fought: Stabilize. It keeps those outside the field safe from the combatants and vice-versa, all while allowing those inside the field to see and even experience the damage done to the environment,” Guard explained. “When you powered up, I immediately activated the spell.”
Pyro stared awestruck at his surroundings. A spell that allowed you to go all out without affecting the world around yourself. Pyro’s lips started to form into a smile, it was just so incredible. Maybe if I-
“No.”
The single word rang sharp in the air, causing Pyro to jump a little. He turned to find Guard staring down at him with a stern expression. Pyro’s glee melted into confusion, his ears lowering slightly and head tilting.
“What do you-”
“I’m not teaching you Stabilize,” Guard interrupted, answering the question before it could be spoken.
Pyro was shocked, and slightly irritated at this statement. “And why not?” He asked, adding a little sting to his words.
“Because of that look in your eyes,” Guard replied simply. “I know that look. You want an easy way out, something that will let go all out whenever you want.”
“Well, yeah,” Pyro said while rolling his eyes, “you said I needed to learn control.”
“That’s not control,” Guard retorted. “It’s just avoiding the problem.”
“Oh, so I’m a problem now?” Pyro asked, trying to get the stoic pegasus off balance.
“No, but your attitude his,” Guard said, skillfully dodging the accusation while still trying to get the message through. “You get angry to easily, and when you get angry, you immediately try to punch your way out of the situation, regardless of what could happen to what’s around you. Look at the peach tree.” Pyro turned to stare at the scorched fruit tree, flinching slightly at the sight of the ghastly wound he had left behind. Guard let him stare at the tree for a moment before continuing. “You didn’t mean to do that, and now you’ve killed a tree that has been standing since before you were born.” Guard stopped again to let that sink in before lowering his muzzle closer to Pyro’s ear. “Now,” he whispered, “what if that had been a pony?”
Time seemed to freeze for Pyro, the realization hitting like a ton of bricks. His mind flashed back to his first transformation. A single griffon had been standing in front of him beforehand, and was reduced to ash by the sudden burst of fire magic. However, a detail that had never occurred to him hit home; what happened to the two ponies that had been harvesting behind him? He hadn’t seen them since before his episode. Had they gotten away, or had they gotten hurt… or worse? Tears started to form in Pyro’s eyes, something that hadn’t happened since the night of his revelation.
“I-I-” Pyro stammered, tears forming in his eyes.
“They would have been killed,” Guard stated bluntly, striking the final nail into the coffin. Pyro stared at the carnage, horrible thoughts running through his head. He thought of the two ponies that had been so close and what could have happened to them, but his imagination didn’t stop there. What if he had unlocked his abilities earlier? What if he had lost control around his mother, or sister? What if he suddenly exploded in his sleep, surrounded by dozens of other slaves? With each realization, a tear fell, and it wasn’t long before he was sobbing.
“Please!” He cried, spinning around and clinging to Guard’s shoulders for dear life. He buried his damp face into the chest fur of the taller pony. “Please…” he pleaded, “show me how to control this….”
Guard had been taken completely by surprise when Pyro had grabbed onto him like a life-line. His head came back,eyes widening and wings flaring as the young colt begged for his help. Slowly, Guard relaxed, a somber look creeping onto his face. He eventually sat down and wrapped his front hooves awkwardly around Pyro before rocking slowly back and forth. He stayed that way, holding him, rocking, and rubbing his back, letting the colt’s tears soak into his coat. Slowly, the crying began to fade and Guard looked down at his charge. Pyro had fallen fast asleep, chest rising and falling rhythmically with his breathing.
Guard let small smile lift the corners of his muzzle. He carefully got up, holding the small pony easily in one leg as he moved closer to a large tree. He laid the sleeping colt gently next it before silently taking flight. He grabbed one of the larger leaves and plucked it from the tree. He lowered himself down, draping the huge leaf across Pyro’s body as a makeshift blanket. Guard took a step back to take in the tranquil scene. “Sweet dreams,” he spoke softly. “O Prince of Morfflings….” With a small bow, he moved off into the growing shadows of the night.
Author's Note
*slams hands on desk and lurches out of chair* Guard, no spoilers!!!
Any-hoo, this chapter is a bit of a dozie, so let's break it down. First of all, Pyro has been out for the better part of two days. Also, Pyro's kill count is still one, so take that as you will. As for anything else, you'll just have to wait and see. Until next time, have a great one and may your imaginations never dull!