We pulled off of the Royal Road into a spacious wayside. The high Sunset Mountains began their rise almost from this spot. My lovely chestnut sorrel wife, Nore Bel Morin, pulling in the harness beside me and our fourth filly, a darker brown sorrel named Delit Bel Nore, was in the lead harness, not only pulling, she was singing our road song cadence, her long straight horn flashing in the sun as her head bobbed.
I suspected that there was no coincidence in her choice of song, either. She and the others pulling the caravans behind us were all singing Shehan Ja Rom. The name means Salvation of the Rom and tells the true story of the near miracle that saved the seven first horses of the Rom from death in the sere and deadly desert of Celestia’s Anvil, just beyond the Sunset Mountains.
Nore’s eyes had the sparkle of unshed tears. “I love this place, my dear husband. This is where you brought us to the roads of Equestria those thirty years ago.
“I see that we are the first of the three bands of Rom to get here. I hope that Sando will last long enough to get here before he goes to the Lake of Paradise.”
I replied softly, heart torn, “I think that he will. Our filly Naleen was there when he died four days ago. She restarted his heart with her magic and is keeping it pumping for now.”
Nore pointed with her ears up the long pass above the wayside. “Up there is Riten’s Notch, the only place where we could get out of the mountains after that awful flood.”
I nodded soberly and looked up to Nore. “I remember. Saving you from Celestia’s Anvil was easy by comparison to getting us all out of the mountains after the Red Branch flood. We almost lost Maina and Malit and their caravan, getting over the Notch.”
Wistfully, Nore wondered, “Whatever happened to that lovely Sunbreak and those fine Royal Armored Pegassi that helped us and saved Maina and Malit?”
I told her, “The Exile, old De Writer, told me that Sunbreak fell in action on the Prance frontier a few years after she helped us. Vard is now a full colonel and has a garrison not that far from here.”
Our conversation was stopped by the practical necessities of getting our caravan and the others all pulled into a neat circle. Dropping our hitches and stowing the whipple staves, single and double trees and all the rest of the caravan rigging, getting out cooking gear and generally setting up our camp had us all busy. Even the foals have regular chores to do when setting up camp. It was a hive of happy activity.
By the time that it was done, we had tea on, griddles heating and batter getting whipped up! Some of the foals, knowing the value of helping out, were making up favorite fillings to be rolled up in the thin batter cakes to come!
We all heard the wagon of the long haul drovers as it turned into the wayside entry road. Sarel, Rom’s dapple gray wife and an excellent weaver, folded her ears back to shut out the sound. She exclaimed, “Three wheels as bad as ponies can make and one that’s worse!”
We were all chuckling about that. True, too! We Rom live by our wheels and we all know the sound of good ones and bad ones. Some of the long haul cargo ponies have wised up that being friendly to Rom on the road can pay off big time. Some have not. It appeared that this team was one of each.
One of the two was a smallish red unicorn. The other was a fairly husky earth pony with a sandy tan mane and tail and a green coat. I recognized them both.
From the disdainful curl of her lip and the ostentatious turning of her rump to them, I guessed that Nore did too.
The earth pony was a really good sort. Whatever opinion he may have about Rom, Carter was always polite, even friendly. We all liked him and even watched for him on the road.
The red unicorn was cut from a different cloth altogether. Thirty years ago he was a follower of Foulip. He and a buddy named Lex had used military pikes at Foulip’s order to try forcing us to perform as slaves at the now defunct Haulmarket Fair. Lex tried to kill me with his pike. My sweet Nore killed him faster than if he had been the one stabbed using an art known as Gyptian Death Touch.
Now here was Red, all over again. Twenty years at hard labor on the Royal Roads did not appear to have mellowed him any.
He spat in our direction.
Carter stomped him. “Drat it, Red! I told you to be polite to the Rom! We got a sour wheel. If we are nice to them, there is a good chance that they will fix it for us.”
“Meadow muffins, they will! Last time I seen Rom, I done nothing and was given twenty years on the Royal Roads!”
Carter snapped back, “That is a lie and you know it! I have heard your cant so often that I looked it up in Royal Road Police records. You were convicted for your part in trying to force the Rom into slavery under Crowns Law! You almost got sent over the Traitor’s Drop along with Foulip for that.
“The Princesses excused your illegal possession of a military pike stolen from the Haulmarket Militia Armory. Be thankful that all you got was twenty years!”
Red sourly ignored the reality being splashed in his face. He started to crowd the hitch, attempting to force Carter to put the wagon next to our camp. Carter was bigger and held his line, snarling, “No! You are NOT going to mess this up! If you do, I am canceling our contract at the next RRP section station!”
Carter dragged both the wagon and Red, who was not helping at all, down to the far end of the wayside.
Nore shook her head. “Poor Carter, being saddled with Red! If it were not for why we have come here, I would suggest that we leave if he is going to be here.”
I sucked my cheeks in as I thought. Coming to a decision I suggested, “If we have him here, the reason for us being here will be marred at least. Gather Delit, Hasna and come yourself, dear. We will go to see if they will leave for another wayside if we fix their bad wheel.”
Chuckling, young Delit asked, “Which one? They are all bad!”
Nore corralled our offspring, while agreeing, “They are pony made wheels, dear. But one is far worse than the others. That is the one that we might fix.”
Hasna showed up with his wheel tool kit and a grim expression. He stated, “I do not mind fixing a wheel for Carter. He has always been friendly and respectful. That Red, though, I would not offer to pull him out if he was drowning in a mire. I have heard too many tales of the things he has tried.”
Nore nodded agreement. “We all have and we agree with you, Hasna, if that helps. We won’t fix the wheel unless Carter agrees to leave. Red will have to go with him or not get paid for the haul.”
We crossed the tree shaded space of the wayside to Carter’s wagon. Red started to snap, “Wayside camp Privacy! Get …”
Carter actually clipped his jaw with a hoof! “I told you, SHUT IT! Stay quiet and keep to yourself or YOU pay for fixing that wheel at a wheelwright shop!”
Turning to us, he offered, “Welcome! What can I do for you?”
Nore said bluntly, “Carter, you always have a welcome in our camps. Red is not welcome in or near any Rom camp. We want him gone. If we fix your wheel, will you leave and take him with you?”
Carter looked down sadly, and replied, “Thanks for being clear that I am still welcome in your camps. Yes, we will leave as soon as the wheel is ready.”
Red promptly stated, “I want to spend the night here!”
Carter nodded, “Feel free. That will be a contract violation. I will be shut of you and you won’t get paid for the haul if you do. I am going to Wayside 14, next to Haymarket, to spend the night.”
I nodded to Delit. “OK, sweetie. Lift the corner of his caravan.”
Red snapped, “That’s a wagon! You too dumb to know the difference?”
Delit, showing an excellent finesse of control, slapped a cap of her nearly golden magic on his horn and wrapped his jaws in it too. Without letting go of Red, she also lifted up the wagon’s corner while Carter placed and adjusted the wagon jack.
Carter commented, “Thank you, Delit, I believe your name is? Both for doing this lift and for shutting up Red! There, jack’s in place. Would you mind staying close enough to keep him quiet? Thanks, young filly.”
As Delit stepped clear, Nore and Hasna stepped in and began by simply turning the wheel. Hasna, our band’s best wheelwright stopped it at a particular point.
Speaking to Delit, he asked, “Do you know why I stopped the wheel there?”
Delit nodded, “I think so, Hasna. That is where the binding starts. Do we take it apart now?”
Hasna agreed, “You are right, Delit. Your mother will pull this lynch pin. It is very tight.”
Nore stepped in and laid an expert hoof to the pin. Though her hoof appeared to stay still, the pin could be seen to be working loose. In moments, it came free. Hasna reached into the hub and pulled out several metal washers which he examined carefully before proceeding.
He lifted the wheel free from the axle, which had an iron sleeve. He held the wheel up so that he could sight through its bore hole.
Shaking his head, he muttered, “Bad as a pony made … Well, it IS a pony made wheel! Nore, would you please go and get me a small stick of blackwood, please?”
As she trotted back to our camp, Nore was flirting her tail happily at being away from Red. At least Delit was keeping him shut up!
When Nore returned she asked Delit, “What have you asked, my filly? Did you grasp the answers you got?”
Delit smiled and replied, “What I have seen needed no questions, mother. It is a Pony Made Wheel! I can see that they put an iron sleeve on the axle. That could have been a good idea, but they only filed it to make it round. They did not even hone it. The filing was not really accurately round and the iron part of the axle has a rough surface from the filing. No wonder that hub turning on it was failing. Hasna has been honing it to true round. I already know how to do that. I will be most interested in seeing how he saves that worn hub.”
Nore respectfully gave Hasna the stick of blackwood. I watched, admiring the sheer skill that he used in adapting our method for making good wood from bad by the magic of his hooves. He swirled the stick about inside the worn out bore. It left a layer of blackwood lining the inside of the worn out hub.
He pared a shallow cone in it with a special reamer and pressed it to the axle. Working gently, he rotated the wheel while pressing it onto the axle. In a few minutes, the two parts were fitted and turning true.
Hasna advised, “These parts need to wear together, Carter. Take the time to re grease the wheel at each wayside for the next day. That should give you as good a wheel as you can get.”
Delit lifted the wagon corner to free the wagon jack and then set the wagon down gently on all four wheels. She released Red too. He was starting to gather magic to his horn when Carter hoof slapped his face.
“Get in harness, Red! Help to pull this wagon out of here or get no pay!”
Red grumbled continuously but he did get into the hitch. We watched them leave the wayside.
While we strolled back to camp, Delit asked, “How soon will Sando and his band get here? I have been practicing a new dance and working in both iron and wood that I want to show him! He can be proud of my work and take the memory of how much I love him with him when he goes to the Lake of Paradise!”
I mulled that over. “Dear, the band of Sando is only about an hour away. The band of De Innis will be here in about two. Then, as soon as camps are set up, we can plan what ceremony we will have for Sando.”
Nore booped my nose as she pointed out, “WE DO KNOW THIS. Death here is NOT the END. Though you keep insisting that you only took a nap, it lasted for THREE DAYS on Celestia’s Anvil. No desert is hotter or dryer. You started your nap, emaciated from hunger and thirst. Without any other source of food or water, you came back to us healthy and well fed. Those are facts.
“You, our loved dead, our ghost who guides, came back and have stayed with us always. Whether he comes back like you did, Sando will live on at the Lake of Paradise. He will be with us always in our hearts and souls at the least. Our loved dead will not abandon us nor we them.”
Actually, the band of Sando got to the southern entry road to the wayside before we quite got back to camp.
Delit turned an sprinted to them! “Sando! Phappa! Naleen!”
Big brown Phappa Al Oosa, smiled with delight and exclaimed, “Delit! You are growing so well! Your horn is lovely!”
Naleen’s eyes were sparkling as she exclaimed, “Hi, Sister! We have missed you since I mated with Thom!”
Naleen gestured toward Sando with her horn. There was a thin veil of magic radiating from it to envelope Sando. “Big lunk here, did not want me to Pull beside him. Just walk along and keep his heart beating. Like meadow muffins I won’t Pull!
“We won’t let him try to pull full load. I could not keep him from leaving us if he pulled a full load. He wanted to get here and see all of our whole family before I let him go to the Lake of Paradise.”
Sando, with a bit labored breath, said, “I want to leave Equestria’s roads at the same place where I first saw them. I remember what a marvel they were then and still are today.”
Phapa looked past Delit to me. “My stubborn old mule of a husband wants to come here to go to the Lake but he nearly left us back down the road a bit. We saw that awful Red. Carter was in harness beside him. Carter actually kicked Red to keep him from using his magic to foul our Thom’s wheels.”
Sando looked up. He was shockingly worn. Old looking. His eyes told a different story. They were bright and reflected a mind still both alert and lively.
I saw a look pass between Phapa, Naleen and Delit. Delit’s magic reached back and pulled the hitch release for Sando. Naleen and Phapa dropped their hitches too. Delit and Naleen gently escorted Sando toward our camp.
Phapa, with practiced skill, reset the caravan’s hitch for a single horse and pulled it on into the wayside. The rest of Sando’s band followed. Soon they were setting up their camp too.
Malit and Maina, leading their band, called the band of De Innis because Malit’s full name was Malit De Innis, came down the north entry road. Malit pointed with a hoof and called to her band, “De Innis! We will camp across the space between Sando and Rom! That will give us all a shared dancing green!”
Following her directions, her band set up across the space between Sando’s band and Rom’s band, creating an enclosed space shared by us all. It was an open U shape facing the forest that we had come out of thirty years ago.
Solemnly, Nore’s and my fillies and our grand foals went to the edge of the woods and began to dig as only surprisingly powerful unicorns can dig. The one exception was our filly Naleen who sat quietly beside Sando, keeping his old heart pumping properly.
Nore sat on Sando’s other side and asked quietly, “When you were dying, four days ago, did you get any glimpse of the Lake of Paradise?”
Sando turned his head to Nore and breath labored, told her, “I am not sure. I may have. There was a wonderful light and a sense of well being. Then Naleen got my heart in her magic and started it to pumping again.”
He wept a few tears as he stated, “Naleen is a wonderful filly and a perfect wife to our Thom. Our whole band was honored by her asking him to be by her side.
“She has let me be able to say farewell for now to my whole family. I promise that if I can do it, I shall return to be among you.”
I was snooping and found his account to be fascinating. I was distracted by the fluttering roar of an entire platoon of Royal Armored Pegassi landing just outside of our camp in the wayside!
As their Sargent was checking their formation, an officer stepped forward. I took one look and exclaimed in delight, “Vard! I am so glad that you have come! I see that you brought an honor guard, too. You must all stay for the feast that will follow our celebration!”
I noticed Sando’s ears prick up! Malit and Maina heard it too! They all converged on Captain Vard.
Malit and Maina simply hugged him and then exclaimed, “Captian Vard! We are so glad that you are here! We want to thank you again for saving us and our caravan on Riten’s Notch!”
The platoon’s Sargent asked, “Captain Vard, Sir, may we break formation?”
Pausing from the greetings, he replied, “Break formation but stay together. Sharpshin, I want you to do a recon of the road from Haymarket. Watch out for possible unicorn trouble. Try to get the best intel that you can and report back.”
One of the honor guard platoon saluted and took off, flying low. I watched him dodging treetops and admired his training.
I heard the Sargent telling his troops, “Did you see how they greeted the Captain? I was one of Sunbreak’s troops thirty years ago. Thirty years and these horses have not forgotten how he helped to save them. Really good sorts, if you treat them right.”
One of the troops skeptically asked, “I heard them say Riten’s Notch? Why would any sane being go over Riten’s Notch?”
The Sargent nodded thoughtfully. “You are too young to remember it except as a lesson in both school and later in your basic training. The Red Branch flood totally destroyed the only other way out of the Canyon Maze. They were crossing the Sunsets from the desert kingdom of Gyptia fleeing from a drought and famine when the flood happened.”
Sando had wandered close and settled himself comfortably, Naleen by his side, her thin envelope of green magic encompassing him. However worn his body was, his eyes twinkled as he commented to the troops, “Do not think that the irony of fleeing a drought and almost getting caught in the biggest flood of Equestrian history was lost on us, either!”
Several of the troopers laughed at that. One noted, “The Captain called for honor guards for a funeral. Pardon my asking, but who died?”
Sando gave him a cheerful look as he replied, “Oh, that was me! I died four Pulls south of here. I know that might sound a bit odd to you. My mare in law, Naleen was there when my heart failed totally. I saw enough to be quite certain that the Lake of Paradise awaits me.
“Naleen, besides her other talents, is quite a good healer. She used her magic to restart my heart and keep it pumping. That brought me back for now. As soon as I tell her to, she will stop and so will my heart.”
One of the troops commented, “I always thought that dead was dead. Just an end. What makes you so sure that it is not?”
Returning him a grave stare, Sando pointed out, “When my heart was stopped, before Naleen started pumping it, I saw and felt things that confirm our belief in the Lake of Paradise.
“Besides that, Marchhare, over there, died in saving us when we were lost on Celestia’s Anvil. I was there. I saw him die. To save us, he shorted himself on food and water. He was emaciated when he laid down in the shade of a rock ledge to take his “nap”.
“Three days later, with no food or water available on the Anvil, he walked up from the desert into our camp. He was well fed and looked then like he looks now.
“That was thirty years ago. By any account, since he was in the South Peak Gryphon War, and elderly then, that makes him over a hundred years of age. Sometimes, when he is interested in something or upset, he forgets to cast a shadow. He is our Ghost Who Guides.”
They were interrupted by the return of Sharpshank. He landed and whispered his report to Captain Vard.
Captain Vard snapped out, “Form up! Squads of five! Rig for ground combat! Cock and load all crossbows! Squads, arm with two pikes and three stabbing spears!
“Sargent! Place two squads, one on either side of the south entry road. Place the other two as wings in front of the civilians. The last squad will be with me in reserve.”
The Sargent just saluted and began placing the Royal Armored Pegassi troops as ordered. He was only just in time.
A mob of about twenty ponies from Haymarket town, led by Red, burst out of the south entry road. They were carrying shovels, picks and some pitchforks, which they aimed like they were weapons.
They strode arrogantly up the road and well before the mob got to our camp, Red sneered loudly, “I see the hole is still there! Just hoof over all the gold, silver and jewels you was going to bury with the dead horse and give us the corpse! We will chuck it in the garbage dump where it belongs!”
Captain Vard had heard enough. He stepped forward, the five of the reserve squad with him formed up where they had a clear field of fire. They knelt and aimed their crossbows.
The Captain bawled out, “Halt! In the name of their Highnesses, Celestia and Luna! You are all under arrest!”
Red promptly showed his lack of military genius. “They is twenty of us and only five of you. Six if you counts yourself. You give up! We are gonna have them riches and that is final!”
Coming quietly up the road behind the mob was a detachment of Royal Road Police, in their midnight blue uniforms.
Captain Vard replied, “You miscounted. Look around you. There are twenty five crossbows all loaded and targets chosen. If we have to fire, NONE of you will be left alive.
“Princess Luna has decreed as part of Royal Road Law that any being using the Royal Roads has the right to a Wayside Burial as a Royal benefice if they should die more than two days from their home town or village. Any disturbance of such a burial is Grave Robbery. It is punishable by from twenty years at labor to death.”
Captain Vard surprised me by asking Red, “Where did you get the idea that the Rom were going to load the grave with riches?”
Red promptly shot back, “Everypony down in Haymarket knows it! Story is all over!”
Captain Vard nodded. “I know. I also know that you started all of those rumors. Since you have been convicted of attempted slavery, by order of the Princesses, both the military and Royal Road Police have been keeping close tabs on your activities.
“You have committed the classic mistake of believing your own lies.”
I stepped up beside the Captain and looked sourly at Red. “What, besides your own mouth farts, ever gave you the idea that we would bury riches with Sando?”
Red actually furrowed his brow as he thought. “How else you gonna show your respect for the dumb horse? You gots to bury fancy stuff with him. Shows your respect.”
I sort of stuck my tongue into my cheek and and generally made faces at the whole load of meadow muffins that Red had just dumped. Finally, I asked, “Exactly how does making a grave into a target for criminal vultures like you, show any respect at all? Do you really think that we are that stupid?
“To answer your question, the Rom do not believe that death is an end. We call a grave the Gateway to the Lake of Paradise. What point to give stuff to somehorse that is going to a place where they will have everything that they could want supplied in the best sorts of ways? I mean, that is what Paradise is about.”
The pitchforks lowered. The mob looked at each other, shamefaced. One did ask, “If you ain’t burying him with gold and such, why are you all here?”
Captain Vard answered that. “We are all here to wish a friend farewell. They will show him things like dances and music, handicrafts and the like. He will have memories to take with him to the Lake of Paradise.”
I gave Captain Vard a surprised look. I mean, really? Some pony interested enough in our ways to ask questions and listen to the answers about our ways? That was a first.
The Royal Road Police moved up and began to manacle the members of the mob. Almost predictably, Red squalled, “I didn’t do nothing! This is the second time that I was just standing near the dratted Rom and gets arrested! It ain’t fair!”
The constable binding him and capping his horn retorted, “Doing nothing? The rest of these ponies would not be here at all if not for you! You stirred up the mob to come rob a grave and rob the Rom in their camp, too!”
The mob was led away, protesting, down the same shady, well made Royal Road that they had come by.
Captain Vard ordered his troops, “Unload! Release Tension! Secure all weapons in parade order! Troops assemble!”
The Sargent saluted and reported, “Troops assembled, Sir!”
Captain Vard saluted them all. “Your coolness in this action prevented violent robbery and grave robbery. I am ordering a Unit Citation for you, with a benefice of five golden bits! Today, you have made your Princesses proud!”
Sando, accompanied by Naleen, Delit, and his wife Phappa Al Oosa, stepped up. Delit’s magic was carrying a substantial bag. Sando requested, “Captain Vard, Sir, may we address your fine troops?”
Smiling, he replied, “Permission granted. Sando, the one that we are here to honor the passing of, wishes to address you.”
Sando began, “I know how strange that must sound to you. First, I want you to know that I did die, four days down the Red Branch Road Section. My mare in law, Naleen, who is a healer, was there and took over, making my stilled heart to beat. It will not beat without her assistance.
“I choose this place to leave for the Lake of Paradise. When all is in readiness, Naleen will let my heart have its way and I will leave both the Rom and all of you here. Memories are all that I can take with me.
“The memory of how excellently you defended the law and honor of Equestria has not marred my going. It is one of the finest things that I could possibly take with me.
“I am allowed by your law to give you a small reward for your service to me. Delit Bel Nore will gift you each with a package containing a counted ten golden bits.”
Delit began to circulate down their ranks. Phappa followed, writing down the name of each trooper. At the last, they gave the Sargent his and then Captain Vard.
Phapa hugged Sando and said, “I love you, my dear. I will keep you close in my heart. Here are the names of all of these valiant troops who stood to our defense.” She gave him the list.
He read it with care, folded it and placed it in his embroidered saddle bag.
The rest of us now began to busy ourselves with the preparations for the celebration feast. Even Captain Vard seemed to be confused by the apparently happy mood of what he understood to be a funeral.
Little Shehan Ja Saken, a pony foundling that we had legally adopted back thirty years ago, was busy rolling out Ka'Chek pastries in thin sheets, doubling the dough over and rolling it out again and again. She had an impressive pile of the rolled out sheets. She laid out four of the pastry sheets and began filling them with a nearly glowing orange filling with large chunks of a yellow orange fruit. As fast as she filled four, she folded the sheets of dough over the filling and then rolled them, so that the seams were down. She used a special cutter with four short blades to cut notches into one side of the pastries and piled them onto cooking sheet pans.
As she was finishing loading one of our baking ovens, one of the honor guard troops who had been watching in fascination, asked, “How come none of you seems sad? I thought that this was a funeral. You know, a final farewell.”
Shehan looked up from her work in surprise. “A FINAL farewell? Why would we do that? We will welcome him back if he chooses to return and, in any case, we will keep him close in our hearts. We do not abandon our loved dead so easily.”
Somewhat diffidently he pointed out, “How do you know that this paradise is there for you? I mean, you are a pony.”
Only a little irritated, Shehan stomped for emphasis as she retorted, “I am a HORSE of the Rom! When I was adopted, thirty years back, I was an abandoned waif. Haulmarket would not even put me on their town rolls.
“I was helping these wonderful Rom with water hauling at their first show. Haken tried to steal the water cart. I called him out. He hit me and broke my neck.
“Marchhare, over there, and his lovely mate did surgery to fix the bones out of place but no pony would take me in for the weeks of healing. Maina and Malit adopted me on the spot, under Royal Road Law. They did not know if I would ever recover or if I might die. They did not care about that. They cared about ME.
“My adoption papers say my mamma is a HORSE. That makes me one too. And PROUD of IT!”
She softened and pointed over to me. “Our Lake of Paradise has room for him, a donkey. How could it not have room for me?”
She pulled out the first batch of pastries, now swelled up, with many fine flaky layers around the filling. They had five “toes” from the side cuts. Bear Paw pastries.
With a smile, Shehan offered the trooper one, cautioning, “Small bites, Sir. It is fresh hot from the oven!”
Soon Phapa, Sando’s mate, rang a sweet toned gong. She called out, “Rom and friends of the Rom, it is time now to begin offering my dear mate, Sando, those gifts of memory that he will take with him to the Lake of Paradise.”
My lovely Nore led off, leading out musicians, each with a different sort of lyre, flute or drum. “Sando, as we began to cross the Sunset Mountains to Equestria, your brilliance in design, returned to us the music lost to us when the Master who cast us out kept our instruments.”
The musicians began to play and Nore started to dance for him the Shehan Ja Rom.
Every horse there had something to show or tell. Often it was not the best. The tale with it told why it was important. Sando, in many cases had showed them how to do better or in what way the flaw could become an asset.
His kindness and wisdom were given back to him in stories, poetry, song, and dance. The work of our hooves and even the many caravans that he had designed and assisted in the building of was all showcased for him.
At the end, Captain Vard and his troops came forward in perfect formation and presented a wreath of yew. The troops then lifted their spears up to a presentation position.
Sando, with labored breath, spoke to Captain Vard, “In coming to honor my leaving for the Lake, you have also brought honor to the land of Equestria. Continue to watch over these good horses that I love. Thank you.”
He turned to look up at Phapa Al Oosa, his wife of so many years. “Dear, it is time now. In my Gateway to the Lake of Paradise, is fine bedding straw. There is a pot of water from the spring for my journey. There is some fresh clover top hay for me and, I see, somehorse has sneaked in a pair of my favorite apricot Ka'chek pastries.
“Gather friends and family about me. I wish to see them one more time before I set out on the Journey.”
We all gathered up close. Sando smiled at all of us and turned to Naleen. “You may let me go now, Naleen. After these four days of keeping my heart beating, you can rest.”
She smiled back at him, laying in the soft grass near the hole, and nuzzled him before saying, “I will rest after we have closed the Gateway behind you.”
Naleen’s green magic faded away slowly. Sando let out a breath deeper than any that he had taken in as his head lowered to rest between his forehooves.
All ten of Nore’s and my foals and grandfoals, with their long straight horns, stepped forward. Their magic combined to the single task of gently lifting our friend, Sando, the Rom of his band, and placing him gently onto the fine straw bedding in the bottom of the hole. They moved the water pot, browse and snacks to be convenient for him. The cloth provided to give him shade on his journey was laid over him.
The dirt removed from the hole was sifted in gently to cover him. After about twenty centimeters of soft dirt over him, they began to lay in a layer packed so hard that it almost seemed vitreous. Earth then filled up the rest of the hole and the sods removed before digging it were replaced.
I do not think that there was a dry eye in the whole of our three bands. Several laid flowers on top of Sando’s Gateway to the Lake.
We all retired to begin the feast to celebrate Sando’s time among us. While we ate, the stories flew thick and fast, as we all tried to share whatever we knew of Sando, and tried to listen and learn. Far more laughter galed about the tables than tears.
Nore looked up from the eating and the stories. She pointed and exclaimed, “Look! Our flowers are wilting already! That is not how I want to remember this place!”
We watched, mystified, as she galloped down the south entry road. Shortly, she came back, bearing her prize. It was a small stone from the shoulder gravels of the road. The face of it had been broken and showed a pattern of nested layers of different colors.
Nore swept the wilted flowers from Sando’s Gateway to the Lake of Paradise and placed her stone there, glittering in the sunlight.
She explained, “Flowers fade and wilt. This stone will still be bright through all the ages to come. It will shine like our memories of Sando. It is not precious, but it is a thing of beauty from the roads upon which we all live.”
Horses scattered from the tables to go and find their own stones to put on Sando’s Lake. Soon the place where we had buried our friend and mentor glittered in the afternoon sun.
As Captain Vard and his troops packed up goodies and gifts from our appreciative little community, the Captain remarked, “Got to admit that this funeral detail did not go at all like we thought that it would! Because we were watching him pretty close, I did expect Red to be a jerk, just because he was in the area and so were you. What I really did not expect is the way you horses look at death. Never seen anything like it.”
We watched the formation fly away to his garrison with heavy hearts. They were good ponies.
-THE END-
