The Legacy of The Shattered Dream

by Natomon01

Rating: teen
Tags: Princess Celestia, Crossover, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Human, Other, Princess Luna, Drama, Original Character, Mystery, Starswirl the Bearded, Adventure
Length: 54671

This G1-crossover story delves into the events surrounding the orgin of the Elements of Harmony. A millenium after a human error destroys Flutter Valley and forever changes Ponyland humans have returned to what will eventually be known as Equestria.

One Charlie Phillips has everything. He's the captain of a unique airship crewed by a dead-loyal mix of equestrian society's rejects. He's also the keeper of a thousand-year-old legacy and life is seemingly simple. Survive!

Six powerful objects ensure that survival, but not even Charlie knows their true nature. All he knows is that his lack of any magical ability is what enables his role. It's dangerous, but at the same time rewarding. He's accustomed to skating on thin ice, but In a world where being without magic could mean a death sentence, his confident and seemingly carefree exterior belies a deep sadness surrounding a debt he can't repay. Yet, that's not going to stop him from trying.

When he becomes aware of the possibility that another human may have crossed over into Equestria things begin to change and not for the better. During the course of Charlie's investigations he begins to draw startling conclusions about the past, present, and future of the world he inhabits. He and his comrades will have to act quickly to stop a disastrous chain of events!

This is a spin off of MrNelg's top-tier adventure story "Megan William's of Equestria." I recommend reading some of that, at least the first chapter before starting into this one.
Megan Williams of Equestria

This is the first FIM Fiction story I've posted. I hope everybody enjoys it!

Published 2017-03-15 18:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-01-07 08:40:07 UTC

Prologue

Author's Note

This story starts out in the beginning of MrNelg's narrative; just after Megan is abducted. I wanted to introduce my own narrative as a parallel storyline taking place at the same time.

Prologue

-Prologue: From One Dreamer’s Perspective-

Megan gave a startled cry as she felt her whole body rise with the griffins. She curled in on herself as she rose higher and higher. First she could see the river below her, and then the tree tops. Looking down stream, she could see that she was in a valley of some kind. She could also see that they were flying upstream. Turning to look up stream, she gaped in shock.

Good God in the foothills. Mountains! They were flying towards mountains. Towering, snow capped dark grey mountains. Megan was unable to utter a single syllable. There were no mountains on, nor within the general vicinity of her farm. Where the devil was she? She could not have gone that far. Her mind flipped back to the storm, with the blue lighting. No. There's no way it could have…

-From a Neutral Perspective-

The panicked cacophony generated by the clash of griffon and human voices faded gradually as the hunters carried their prize higher and eventually out of sight. There were some half-dozen individuals that stayed behind, chattering to each other as they walked back and forth in what was clearly a field-hunt search pattern. In-and-out of the gurgling water they walked. Occasionally calling back towards their comrades with news of something they had found.

Eventually they gathered a pile of strange foreign objects on a fur pelt. Their leader, or at least the one that was trusted the most, carefully drew together the corners of the mat and bound them together to hold the precious cargo. He was about to hoist it onto his back when another waved him off and produced a gem from a small pouch tied to one of his talons. Another handed him a hollow tube which he inserted the gem into the end of. He pushed it into the bundle for a moment while staring into one end with one open eye and watched intently before allowing his associates to take their finds into the air.

Moments later he too flapped his wings and joined them, thus leaving the area in peace and exactly as it had been less then an an hour before. The sights and sounds of nature once again enveloped the river bank and the day continued into night and then night into day again in the unbroken cycle to be observed everywhere the sky could be seen. During the day the vegetation bloomed, the birds sang, and fish jumped in the inexorable procession of water through the glen.

After three days it rained, and the added water erased from the sand and bare earth the prints left by the human and her captors. Thus proving that despite the gravity of events that might be felt by those involved in them, there was simply no way around the fact that the world and the passage of time truly were impartial. The “ordinary” would resume after the “extraordinary” had moved on. Yet, it was nearly three weeks later that something truly extraordinary happened again.

It was a another day with mostly clear skies and an agreeable temperature to most creatures when a perfectly ordinary line of clouds began moving across the sky. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss about the cumulus clouds as they drifted closer to the stationary glen, but if there had been other accumulations in the sky that day they would be most noticeably out of place at their particular altitude. Seemingly conscious of this irregularity, the amorphous mass began descending slowly and gently as if in a planned glide slope with the river bank as the destination.

As could be expected there was no one at the destination to witness the event. Thus there was no intelligence which would care enough to record. However, it was intelligence that was orchestrating the movement of the darkening mass as it continued moving below an impossibly low altitude for what it appeared to be. A strange sound now filled the air; a low gentle rumbling as if the sound of rolling thunder had been stretched out into a never-ending cycle and then polished to perfection. As the source grew closer still, a shrill whine could also be discerned. The combination of the strange sounds was powerful but at the same time would have been considered soothing to many ears.

Still closer it crept. Now directly over the glen its true size could be gauged. It blocked out the sun and covered both sides of the river in shade. One could clearly tell this was no cloud. It was almost as if something was merely wearing a cloud. This, in fact, was the truth. As the object began descending straight down the pitch changed and the white exterior evaporated to reveal its true dark, foreboding, and iron-clad form. It was massive, over an acre in size; an elongated form that ended in a semicircular point with two curved projections that extended from the rear and ran parallel to its entire length. Yet, it could fly without wings, and it now stayed aloft with nothing to hold it. Almost as though it were being willed into the sky.

It would have been truly frightening, or at least awe inspiring to anyone who had been there to see it. A series of protrusions, that could only be described as legs, dropped out from the interior of the giant construct, and the craft rotated slightly to align them with the flattest patches of earth on both sides of the river. The loose stones on the ground vibrated. Pine needles and leaves began to dance, though there was no wind. Specs of dust began to rise from the ground and the blades of grass nearby stiffened and bent all in the same direction as though reaching out to touch the great artificial beast.

It continued gradually lowering itself below the tree-line as though it were only a toy on a string. Yet, unlike a toy, when the beast at last made landfall its legs compacted slightly under its incredible mass. All five issued a satisfied groan. The whine ceased and the rumble gradually abated until it was barely discernible. Movement within was now apparent as smaller creatures, dwarfed by the massive size of their vehicle, prepared to exit. The first to emerge were winged equines and griffons. They fluttered to the ground chattering to each other in at least three different languages and began collecting at certain points under the craft. Some moved stones while others concerned themselves with establishing a patrol around the landing site. Still others emerged from the topside walking or galloping along the sleek and dark-colored hull before briefly taking to the air and studying the horizon.

As soon as the stones were moved the underbelly began to extend as it gradually lowered a platform, jammed with other equines, until it rested on the ground. A few of the disembarking passengers possessed a hornlike protrusion on their forehead. Their coats were a mixture of bright colors or striped patterns. Many carried paper charts or surveyor’s equipment, and they hurriedly conferred with each other before making their way towards the area of the river bank where just weeks earlier another out-of-place drama had played out.

The questions that no doubt would have plagued Megan, had she witnessed these events, would have been too numerous and diverse to fully reconcile with her then understanding of reality. The most pressing of inquiries she would have broken down her confusion into would likely have pertained to the nature of the strange craft and crew, but also why they were there in the first place. Though, these questions likely would have faded in lieu of another if she could only have known who it was that had brought them there.

The question of just "why they were there" plagued the group of equine surveyors as they wildly gestured and spoke to each other trying to establish centralized order. Presently, they became quiet and stiffened their posture as they were joined by a figure who obviously commanded great respect; a figure who walked on two legs.

Chapter 1: Amerigo

-Chapter 1: Amerigo-

****** Nothing Human ******

-Almost Three Weeks Prior-

Peace. It hung in the air like it was simply masking reality. The same sort of effect as though you were simply covering your ears. Of course, reality had a sense of humor. Every other aspect of existence seemed enhanced now, as Charlie could hear all the way down to the other end of the catwalk. Someone was snoring. Not just snoring, but practically playing a trumpet.

“Probably one of the griffins.” Charlie mused.

Each one of them snored at a different pitch. So distinct a tone was it that he could usually tell who it was. Not now, though. The endless vibrations had ceased and the only sound, aside from his sleeping, comrades was the whistle of the Black-Mountain wind. It almost willed anyone who heard it to sleep. Everything sounded different now; even pitch! Charlie couldn’t lay under the covers trying to sleep himself any longer.

He pushed back the bedspread and gasped as the cold air hit him in force. He braced himself further for the customary headache that was the result of his decision to imbibe so close to bed. It didn’t seem so bad this time. Probably because he’d chosen to drink less. Could it be possible he was getting tired of cider after drinking it for the last nine or ten evenings? He checked his face for stubble and was pleased to feel that the tonic he’d been using was still inhibiting the growth of the unwanted facial scruff. Next he searched for a strap to tie back his mane. “Mane.” Now there was an apt description. He’d eventually given up explaining to practically every one of his equine colleagues that humans, like himself, didn’t tend to use the term “mane.” It was just hair. Eventually deciding that it didn’t really matter he’d started referring to it the same way. Yet, considering its largely unchecked growth, a mane was essentially what it had become. He groaned, thinking about how the ship’s stewardess would eventually force him to sit still while she would fuss over the light brown mess with her strange smelling soaps and tonics in order to turn it into something she deemed “presentable.”

Charlie settled on a gold-trimmed red-canvas strap to tie the unruly mess into a ponytail that dangled as far down as the small of his back. Throwing on a vest and then wrapping a blanket around himself he made his way to the small stove over in the corner of his stateroom. With luck he wouldn’t have to work that hard get the fire burning again. From that, “hot water,” and from that, “tea!” Almost as warming and soothing as wassail.

“Wassail. Why not! It’s cold enough. Who cares if it’s the wrong time of year!” He thought.

After fiddling with the coals and carefully adding a few scraps of paper the interior of the stove came to life with the usual hissing, crackling, and orange flicker. Despite the fact that the converted black kettle did in fact do the job of heating the stateroom it was only a way of sidestepping the real problem. As he began adding together the ingredients of his spur-of-the-moment special beverage, Charlie glanced longingly at the steam radiator that normally supplied the much-needed heat. It was dead. The entire ship felt dead and empty.

Since he and his crew had set their airship down on a mist laden plateau, after a rather unexpected turn of events affecting their source of power, there had hardly been anything to occupy their time. There was no way to get any work done here. Even the wide area beneath the ship was too rocky and overgrown with shrubbery to even consider any kind of organized sport. Charlie and Crack, his first officer, had felt there was no choice but to simply keep the recreation lamp burning, and in the new atmosphere of boredom, debauchery seemed to have set in more quickly than even the two of them had thought. As a result, the Amerigo’s ship’s stores had seen a drastic reduction in casks of cider and mead. No serious reports of downright moronic behavior as of yet, though. However, scuttlebutt had it that gambling was gaining popularity again. Some of the crew seemed inclined to do little else but huddle around the various makeshift stoves, eat, drink, gamble, sleep, and repeat.

Even as Captain, or so his title was, Charlie wasn’t completely immune from the increasingly lethargic and somewhat despondent feeling that had taken hold over the crew. He’d taken to strategizing sports plays, reading his few surviving novels over again, picking up one of his instruments for the first time in years, and most unexpectedly writing poetry. Years prior he never would have seen himself doing such a thing, but now his desk was littered with the drafts that had failed to live up to his expectations for lyrical art. Most of them were only based off of old songs anyways. Hardly original work, but a good place to start. Yet they all ended the same; with longing for what he knew he would likely never see again. Home.

Home was literally a world away. Maybe even further for all Charlie knew. A place that only seemed like a fantasy now. A strange reversal from his initial thoughts on the place he’d initially been introduced to as a thirteen-year-old. Fate had been cruel, dangling a seemingly delicious and consequence-free escape in front of him. All just literally over the rainbow. So close and yet so far from reality, but the storybook pictures that had closed in around him soon thereafter had made the fantasy too real. He winced as a flood of memories all interspersed with guilt and grief nearly consumed him right then and there. Only for a moment, though. He reminded himself that he couldn’t afford the luxury of dwelling on those other things at the moment, but they was all his fault, though. Right?

Reality had faded. Home seemed the true fantasy now. Back there he had been known as Charlie Philips within the civilized society that had produced him, but now he was an alien. Not just an alien being, but somehow his very nature was so different, and some believed toxic, that he would best keep to himself to avoid either a quick death or perhaps worse; a long life at someone else’s discretion. Humans were simply not welcome here. Was that his fault too? It could be.

The forlorn captain of the airship Amerigo surveyed the small pile of hard cider casks that he’d piled up under his stateroom’s panoramic window. They were up to five. One typically lasted for two nights. Last night’s still had a good bit left in the bottom, though.

“Just enough for a trotter or two full of delicious spiced wassail!” He thought licking his lips.

His thoughts were interrupted as a loud metallic thud issued from the other side of the stateroom door. Initially he rolled his eyes in annoyance but thought better of it. Any interruption to the routine ought to be a welcome one. It might even be the news he wanted to hear; that they could finally leave the god-forsaken mountainside and get back to work.

“Come in” he said in his most cheerful and energetic voice. “And in the future please remember that it’s a door not a drum-head” he added wryly.

The door slid open to reveal Crack, a black crested Shore-Nation griffon and the Amerigo’s first officer. Behind him entered Turner. The aptly named blue unicorn stallion was not only chief navigator and an excellent helmsman but also held the position of second officer.

“Sorry about that” Crack apologized shaking his head. “I’m not used to things being this quiet.”

“My shoes don’t feel right” added Turner. “I’m too used to feeling the transmission shafts through the deck.”

Charlie couldn’t help but smile at his two closest friends as he ladled out three mugs of warm-spicy hard cider and pushed two of them across the room’s center table as he made an addition of his own to the conversation.

“And I can’t leave the primary section of the ship. Too many Greeners.”

By this Charlie meant recent additions to the crew. Due to the secretive nature of the Amerigo’s origin and an even more sensitive knowledge concerning its captain, it was rare that the crew would be supplemented with new members. A few years prior Charlie, Crack, and Turner had agreed on a lengthy vetting process for incorporating new members into the fold. This included initial profiling based on their culture, information that could be gathered from those who might know them, and additional observation after they were taken in. This was further supplemented by a graduated level of privilege when it came to how much they were allowed to know about the vessel they crewed or its captain. Yet, there also was an unwritten metric for trust that was gauged by how eager they were to burn their bridges with old ways of life. Something that Charlie and his two most senior officers, and friends, knew all too well.

Crack shrugged at Charlie’s reference to the new recruits being incorporated into the crew.

“Actually. They're working out pretty well. I'd say that we could give them a final interview and then reveal the final details soon, but today I sent them down to the foothills to start breaking down the trading post.” His beak widened with a grin before it disappeared in his mug.

Charlie sat forward as the corners of his mouth tugged themselves slightly upward.

“Does this mean what I think it does?”

“From what Kearn is forecasting the element heat rejection should be complete by tonight!” Turner happily reported as he plunged his muzzle into his own drink for a moment before continuing. “It’s not anything official of course, but you know Kearn. That zebra’s never wrong! We could be in the air as early as tomorrow morning.”

Crack rolled his eyes before he spoke again.

“I don’t know about that, but I’d say we could get the Assembly turning again in the morning. We’ll at least get some heat and light. And above all else-”

“The blessed and comforting noise!” Turner interrupted.

Crack scowled at the interruption before continuing.

“I was going to say that we’ll get the printing presses back. We can also get back to the survey we were doing of the north face before Element Primary started overheating.”

Charlie sighed in relief and lifted his own mug to his lips but he paused and thought better of his choice to consume alcohol. He also considered what the crew would need to do the following morning. He set his sweet smelling escape down and turned to set his teapot on the corner stove.

”Thanks for some good news.” He said as he straightened his back with newfound confidence and turned back to face his two friends. “Enjoy those drinks. They’ll be your last ones for a while. Make sure you relay that to everyone else when Kearn makes his judgement official.”

Crack nodded, but Turner scowled with disappointment as Charlie continued.

“So where exactly did cartography leave us before we had to set down? Can we still make our deadlines?”

Turner cocked his head to the side for a moment as he thought.

“I’d say we’ll definitely make the production quos before we reach the Imperial Capital. Stone Nation ought to be pleased. I wouldn’t count on the Ice Nation receiving their order. The passes have probably frozen, but we might be able to pay some Stone-Nation couriers.” He paused and took another drink. “I don’t think we’ll make the bonus deadline for the royal orders, though. Unless we can find a zebra captain who’s crazy enough to sail around the Southern Horn this late in the summer. We can expect to get it there in a month by pegasus courier over the passes. If they can manage that they’ll be able to get it the rest of the way overland by earth courier. But…” He paused “that’s only if we finish the survey we had to cut short ... in about a day.”

Crack shrugged and Charlie nodded understandingly, but Turner wasn’t finished.

“The trouble is that right now the latitude measurements and longitudinal calculations aren’t adding up. So we’ll probably have to retrace our position just to make sure.”

“How far off are we talking here?” Charlie asked incredulously; not really wanting to know the answer.

“One… maybe two… miles.”

“Miles?!” Charlie exclaimed in near disbelief. “How did it become miles?!”

“Because my algorithms got plugged into the difference engine-“

“And the transmission disconnected when we started having trouble.” Charlie finished the sentence. “Why didn’t you continue without the machine? We did function just fine before we built Mr. Babbage’s nightmare, or have you forgotten how to use your abacus?”

“I can add just fine” Turner shot back. “But the punch card is stuck. It’s because I tried to carry on without it that I got so muddled.”

“Ok. Fine.” Charlie waved his hand dismissively. “Just get us back where we started, and tell Penny to get her rump in gear. I want the type set for the navigation tabless before you’re done with your numbers. We can add them at the last minute.”

“You’ll get it” Crack added. “As long as you stop calling her Penny.”

“Come on!” Charlie laughed. “Are we really going to get back into that now. I thought she was over the whole nick-name chagrin.”

“Oh I think she was just too distracted to care until the events of the past week, or rather lack thereof. I’ve recently discovered that she’s one of those complaining drunks.”

Charlie grinned as he pushed back from the table and stood.

“Well I know the perfect solution.”

“Oh?” Crack raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. Here’s my first order since we took this ‘delightful’ little detour. I want you to extinguish the rec lamp. Right now! And tell the cooks to start serving some real food too. Not that fried junk! I mean some real ballast; fruits, veggies, and hot cereal first thing tomorrow. I-”

The griffon and the unicorn both stared at their human friend as they waited for him to finish.

“You what?” inquired Turner.

“Sorry I… I just really sounded like my old man there for a second. Sorry.”

“So… yes? No…?”

“Yes. Definitely yes! Just start by removing the booze today, and then get everyone to sleep in the next few hours. If Kearn’s right we’ll need them all up, and sober, in order to get the platform started again.”

“Here! Here!” Turner said stomping his hooves on the deck.

“It’ll be good to bring this place back to life!” Crack added.

All three faced each other; each not wanting to be the one to break up the social gathering between them. While it was becoming an increasingly rare occurrence for them to simply meet together as friends, all three knew that they hadn’t earned the opportunity as they usually did. Charlie spoke first, as commanding officer.

“Let’s get back to work.”

Both of his friends turned to leave as Charlie turned his attention back to his desk. It was a mess of papers. All crumpled and covered with ink stains. He grabbed at them not really caring about his poetic musings anymore. He looked up to see Crack was standing halfway-in halfway-out of the doorway seemingly trying to decide whether or not to leave.

“What’s up Crack?” Charlie asked.

Crack looked up and looked down again before turning to face his friend.

“I want to get out of here as quickly as Turner does… and this is probably nothing…”

“I sense a ‘but’.”

“I Didn’t want to bring this up while Turner and I were both here for fear that he might talk you out of it. Kearn also told me something about the Harmonic Assembly. I won’t pretend to be an expert like him, but it seems that he had some trouble reconciling the orientation of Element Amber.”

Charlie frowned.

“We’ve had to re-seat the elements before. Mostly after the storm season. Did Kearn elaborate?”

“Not really... no. I’m sure he’s going to give you his own opinion once we’re underway again.” Crack paused, obviously embarrassed to be discussing something which clearly wasn’t his area of expertise. “It’s just that I looked at Kearn’s logbooks and I noticed something that might be completely innocuous, but Element Primary appeared to be overheating because of a disharmonic position relative to one of the five secondaries.”

“And I’m assuming he recalibrated to make sure that it clears?” Charlie asked.

“Yes he did, but here’s where it gets strange. Too strange to be a coincidence. The other four secondary elements have all had similar problems over the ship’s lifetime but not Amber. It wasn’t until Amber had its own little hiccup that the Primary had such an adverse reaction.”

Charlie sighed audibly. Crack had been right to voice this now since Turner’s protestations might indeed have carried the day if he’d brought it up earlier. This wasn’t something that anyone wanted to hear.

“So what I’m getting from this is you believe that we have a bigger problem. Possibly a cumulative one?”

“I don’t know what to believe. It’s just that there’s never been a machine like the Amerigo anywhere in this world before. Nobody can say what the long term behavior is going to be. I just think-”

“That I should do a direct inspection.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything right now, but if this hadn’t happened I wouldn’t have brought it up till the Rainbow Falls layover. It’s always easier to do an overhaul like that when the crew can be removed from the ship.”

Charlie fought the urge to dismiss his second-in-command’s fears as unfounded, but regardless of how hard he tried he couldn’t cite a precedent where anything that Crack had ever said was unfounded. Instead he grabbed his deck jacket and moved out into the corridor motioning for Crack to follow.

“Is Kearn still at the Hub?”

“Yeah. Probably.”

“Good let’s go join him and get this over with.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I will admit though. You’re a very inconvenient friend to have at times.”

They moved down the corridor together. It was practically deserted. Most were still engaged in their idle debauchery. The jubilant shouting from the main berthing area hinted at a wrestling match kicking off. While the drunken snores from the opposite direction pointed to the aftermath of one that must’ve gone rather badly for someone.

Presently the two approached one of the command section’s exterior doors. There were three on the upper level which lead outside of the normally heated and wind-shielded forward section. All connected to semi-enclosed catwalks that lead through the metal framework that was the Amerigo’s internal superstructure. Charlie’s ebonite-soled boots and Crack’s claws and talons made a clattering sound that invariably reverberated back toward them when it hit the outer-hull plates. They made their way down the length of the ship. They could still see the mist below them with the waning daylight as it swirled and danced across the upper portion of the hull enclosure. Likely from the heat of a stove lit within.

Charlie paused and gestured for crack to see it.

“Look down and tell me someone’s not partying in the Ballroom.”

Crack scowled at the heat visibly rising through the exterior.

“I’d say they are” he agreed.

“Make sure that’s the first party you crash. Would you?”

Crack nodded and the two kept walking.

The “Ballroom” as it was called was actually the furthest thing from a festive gathering place. It was in fact a large glass bottomed room where surveys were conducted through the transparent floor. It did present a powerful and beautiful sight when one overcame the initial vertigo, and it had been one of Turner’s most brilliant suggestions when designing the Tertiary hull section.

There were three enclosed sections within the Amerigo, all held together by a metal framework. The Tertiary, or "Logistical" section, which contained the, Ballroom, map-drafting and production facilities, and loading bay, almost seemed like it was an afterthought; even though what it did kept the crew fed. It was the lowest section and spanned the almost 350 foot distance between the Secondary and Primary enclosures. The Secondary, or "Command" section was located at the forward most point and contained the living quarters and ship’s navigation areas. It was connected to the Tertiary section beneath and to the Primary section directly aft via the ship’s three open-air catwalks. Finally, the Primary section was located aft of both the Secondary and Tertiary enclosures and directly within the center of gravity. All mass was suspended from this point while in flight; oddly making the Amerigo far less sturdy while supported by its landing struts on the ground. Without the primary section there would be no Amerigo, and what it contained was the reason for Charlie’s impromptu tour.

The pair reached the ladder and Charlie began to pull himself up the rungs with ease. Crack had a more difficult time as he struggled up an adjacent one. It seemed ironic that someone who could fly had such trouble gaining altitude while in contact with a surface. Eventually they reached a large circular enclosure which Like everything else now sounded and felt different without the constant vibration and the whining drone that was the incontrovertible evidence of the sheer power contained within the heart of the Amerigo.

Most of the crew who were even aware of that power simply referred to its container as “The Engine.” A term that was quite alien to any language spoken by the crew; considering the low level of technological development of any of the civilized races which inhabited the world. Societal development was at best comparable to early renaissance Europe in terms of any of scientific knowledge. Though, politically Charlie found himself impressed with certain enclaves he’d encountered.

He glanced around the heart of the Amerigo as he waited for Crack to finish climbing. “The Platform” as it was known on board was a half-sphere shaped enclosure roughly 75 feet in diameter. The exterior was rimmed with the rather primitive machinery that allowed the room to perform its function as the container for the ship’s power plant. In any conventional understanding one might call it the engine room. If were to be classified that way then the Amerigo was equipped with six engines. All six of which, through Charlie, Crack, and Kearn’s ingenuity, had been incorporated into what was now known as “The Harmonic Assembly."

As Charlie looked around for any crew member that might be present, he spied a familiar pegasus carefully scrutinizing the recently cleaned machine parts that littered the deck of the circular platform. Charlied waved at him.

“Hey Scotch. Where’s Kearn?”

Scotch started as his concentration was broken. He looked up as his captain came striding over towards him.

“Hi Skipper. Didn’t think I’d see you up here today.” He paused briefly as he thought about Charlie’s question. “I think Kearn went to post his report about the engine. He thinks we can start putting things back together now.”

“He may want to hold off on that.” Crack added as he finished pulling himself up the ladder behind them.

“What’s wrong?”

“We don’t really know that anything’s ‘wrong.’ We’re just being…”

“Thorough.” Crack finished for him.

“How thorough are we talking?” Scotch asked with some trepidation in his voice. “Because I’m still not done greasing the pusher assembly yet.”

“Relax.” Charlie held up his hands. “This has nothing to do with critiquing anybody’s work. I need you to get Kearn back in here; with his master key.”

Scotch’s eyes went wide.

“You’re not going to-”

“We are.” Crack cut him off.

“We are what? What are we doing, and why am I the last to know?!” Came Kearn’s somewhat irritated voice from across the compartment.

Three heads turned as the zebra engineer exited the freight lift at the far end of the platform and trotted towards them. He punctuated his arrival with a smoker’s hearty cough; which Charlie suspected was really just a way of communicating his frustration.

“You’re smoking too much boss.” Scotch chided.

“I’ll smoke as much or as little as I please!” Kearn shot back. “Now please answer my question. What are we doing, and why am I the last to know?”

Charlie found himself a bit incensed by Kearn’s attitude. He usually wasn’t this irritable.

“Ok, for starters you’re not the ‘last’ to know you’re just the most recent, and what’s furthermore ‘we’ aren’t doing anything. I am.”

“Oh?”

“I need to inspect the Assembly.”

The zebra raised his eyebrows and gestured towards the center of the platform with a wry grin.

“It’s still there!” He quipped sarcastically.

“You know what I mean.” Charlie said rolling his eyes.
Kearn huffed as he locked his gaze on Crack.

“I’m sorry I may have given Crack the wrong idea, but I really don’t think Element Amber really has a big problem. It was probably the pusher. I’m having it cleaned an re-greased.”He gestured to the parts covering the deck all around them. “You see.”

“Crack did more than just listen to what you said earlier. He opened your logbooks and he realized that this is the first time we’ve had a problem that related to Element Amber so directly. This means that we’ve had to deal with problems related to all five secondarys now, not to mention all the trouble that the primary gave us before we figured out that’s what it was.” Charlie paused for a moment before continuing. “Look we have no idea how these things might be aging. We just need to take a quick look and then we’ll button it all back together again. You don’t want a repeat of the Vomit Comet incident, do you?”

The “Vomit Comet” was the term used to refer to a particularly disturbing accident that had occurred before the Amerigo had even been named. It had been a calm summer day and the ship, still under development at the time, had been undergoing a test to figure out just how high it could climb. Back then Crack, Turner, Kearn, and Charlie didn't even have a clear picture of what they were going to do with their new creation. All they were certain of was that they could make it fly, and that just seemed like it was enough. On that day they’d set out to see just how high they could go. The plan had been to step themselves up to higher and higher altitudes and then turn around and step back down. Yet, that wasn’t what happened. After reaching a terrific height the ship had suddenly banked hard to the left and gone into free fall. It was Kearn’s objectivity that had saved them from a premature end. Although weightless at the time, he managed, with Charlie and Turner giving him a shove, to maneuver as close to the madly-spinning Assembly as he could and to give it a hard buck. The result had been immediate and the ship stopped falling. Thus proving his theory that the problem had been related to one or two of the elements breaking out of its cradle during flight.

As if falling from the sky hadn’t been frightening enough the first problem was immediately replaced with another as the ship suddenly took off sideways at a very low, and dangerous, altitude. Turner had barely managed to slow them down and land in a farm field. The ship had ended up smelling like vomit for nearly a month afterward. What was a bit more humorous was how they’d landed in a field that was a bit too close to an earth village for comfort. Luckily, none of the inhabitants were working that area on that particular day. Charlie had been prompted to make some jokes about UFOs and crop circles when they beheld the enormous geometric indentations they’d left in the field.

Returning to the present to see he saw Kearn gazing at the top of the assembly’s rotator bearings. More specifically at his own hoof-print still visible in the burnished brass cowling installed over the moving parts. He was obviously thinking of just how unpleasant and frightening the event had been. Meanwhile, Crack was reaching inside his griffon hauberk and pulling out a chain at the end of which was a silver-plated skeleton key. Charlie responded by reaching inside his own shirt and pulling out a gold-plated one. The two of them stood there staring at their zebra colleague until finally he broke; pulling a key of his own from a small pouch hung around his neck. Kearn’s key was actually solid rather than simply plated. Made of a material so rare that none of the civilizations really had a name for. Though, Charlie suspected it was platinum.

“Let’s dance.” Sighed Kearne as he made his way to the center of the platform with Charlie and Crack following.

The Assembly stood in the center of the platform, an opaque lead-crystal sphere. Normally it would be suspended in the exact center of the room as it rotated freely on the vertical shaft through its center. Yet, today it stood still, supported by a circular brass cradle. Laid around it were the various pieces of “the Pusher.” A set of five concentric rings that surrounded the harmonic assembly using a set of magnetic talismans to prod each of the secondary elements into the appropriate position without touching them; all controlled through a system of pulleys, cogs, and levers. It was a sight to behold when the engine was operating. It was in fact almost hypnotic to see the rings slide past each other. The Harmonic Assembly looked bare and simple now with the pusher disassembled.

It was at three equidistant points around the base of the assembly that the three took up position. The human and the griffon knelt down and inserted their keys into two of three matching keyholes placed around a circular indentation; which was clearly an access for the sphere’s interior . The zebra took his own position simply sitting back on his haunches and guiding the key into his own hole as he held it in his teeth.

“On three.” Charlie announced; signaling them to count together.

“One, two, three!”

They all rotated on cue and were rewarded with a dull thud as a polished metal wheel, which previously had been flush with the bottom, slid into view. Charlie took up position under the assembly, and using the wheel, rotated the entire access panel a quarter turn to the right. He then stepped back and each of the other two took their own turn rotating the wheel a certain number of degrees in a specific direction. The angle and direction were components of a sequence that only they knew.

Eventually satisfied, they all returned their attention to their keys and once again counted as they returned them to the neutral position. The response was immediate. The combination wheel snapped back into place; once again flush with the polished surface. With a whirring noise coming from the interior of the Assembly, the panel slowly lowered out of the bottom until it rested on the deck below. They turned to address anyone nearby.

By this time a half-dozen engineers had taken interest and were watching intently. This was a rather interesting event. Some had never even seen the Harmonic Elements and were no doubt eager to get a glimpse of the enigmatic objects.

“Everyone back up and give the Captain some room.” Kearne barked at the rubberneckers.

The warning could not have been better timed, Charlie would later think. Even as his engineer spoke he was aware of a soft thump behind him as something fell from the inside of the assembly and hit the deck. It was a sound rather like a large mound of snow or a clump of wet sand would make if it were dropped on the ground. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it when out of the corner of his eye he saw what appeared to be a thin haze of smoke. The eyes of the onlookers grew wide. It seemed like forever, but in actuality it was probably only a second or two before a yellow earth mare began screeching at the top of her lungs.

“Contamination!!!”

Chapter 2: Aureate

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 3: Dangerous Games

****** The Alternate ******

“The Hangover Hospital.” That’s what everyone called it anyway. If nothing else it was a good place to get a late-night snack. Culinary cures and other methods of assuaging one’s overindulgence were available until the wee-small hours of the morning when they would be replaced with greasy and fattening breakfast choices.

Lieschter wasn’t a habitual drunk, and in point of fact had always thought such concepts as this place to be a joke, but that night, more likely the early morning, he was grateful beyond measure for the plates of distractions he’d ordered to help him forget his own pain and suffering.

Earlier that evening at the Rex he’d made the mistake of ordering a flagon before ordering his food. That was mistake number one. The second was misidentifying his target and sitting down next to the wrong griffon. The one he’d sat down next to was the friendly type and had proceeded to involve Lieschter in a spate of drinking games. By the time he’d managed to get away and move to the same bench as Set Beak he was already at least four-deep. Thirdly, and finally , even after setting himself down next to Set Beak and starting a conversation, he’d fumbled his attempt to spike Set Beak’s drink. In a fortunate moment of clarity he'd made the excuse that he was a bit too drunk to tell one mug from the other and his intent had been to “sweeten” his own beverage. Set Beak, upon realizing what it was that had been added to his mug, actually asked for more!

Though Set Beak did get the lion share of Light Paw’s tongue-loosening solution, Lieschter had been forced to drink far too much on his own. Now he sat, more accurately had collapsed, sprawled in a thankfully-padded seat in the aptly-termed Hangover Hospital across from a disgusted and exasperated Silver Dawn. He’s just put his head down on the table, trying to block out the now-overwhelming lights and sounds around him, when Silver jabbed him with one of her talons.

“Stay Awake!” she hissed.

“Please. I’m just resting my eyes” he pleaded.

“Stop your belly aching.”

“It’s not my belly that hurts.”

“If you fall asleep you won’t remember enough to report back to Light Paw when she gets here. Now open your eyes.”

“Is the room still spinning?”

“Yes!” came the sarcastic reply. “One of these days they’ll probably fix it so it doesn’t do that anymore, but for now you'll need to deal with it!”

“Deal with what?” someone else asked.

Lieschter opened one of his eyes to see Blood Moon walking up to the table. The apprentice sentry took a seat and eyed the plate of fried matter that was there.

“What are we 'dealing' with?” he repeated.

Silver Dawn just shook her head.

“The room is spinning.”

“Really? Hadn’t noticed” came the jocular reply. “So does that mean you’re not going to touch the rest of these?”

Lieschter grunted his answer and pushed the platter towards the young griffon.

“So…how was supper?” inquired Blood Moon.

“Loads better than his night at the Rex apparently” Silver replied matter-of-factly. “Also, probably a good deal better than what you’re eating right now. Do you even know what that is?”

“No, and I don’t care either. I’m hungry and there’s nothing that’s going to stop me. I missed my supper, and I’ve been sneaking around in the dark for hours now. I think I’ve earned the right to stuff my beak with whatever I please.”

“You found something helpful then?”

“Maybe. Light Paw will have to decide when she gets here.”

“Maybe? You don’t just ‘maybe’ find something when you were only sent to look for one thing. What exactly do you think you found?”

Lieschter opened his eyes, his interest piqued. Blood Moon glanced around the tables. There were only a few other patrons besides the three of them. Most were at various levels of intoxication. Apparently satisfied that no one was looking right at them, he produced a pouch of sorts that he’d been carrying. As he set it on the table, taking care to hide it from view behind their water pitcher, both Lieschter and Silver could hear the ring of metal from inside. Silver Dawn sat forward in anticipation and Lieschter forgot his head as they watched Blood Moon removed the strap to expose the contents.

“Light Paw was right!” Silver could be heard as she tried to keep her voice calm. “It’s a good thing you found these.”

“I don’t know about that” Blood Moon replied scratching his head. “Do these look like all of what you saw?”

“More or less. They’re zebra currency minted from gold. That was definitely what I saw the other day. Why? You don’t seem convinced.”

“That’s because they’re fakes” he replied bluntly.

“Fake? You mean counterfeit?”

“No. I mean fake. These wouldn’t fool your average zebra.”

Lieschter reached into the bag and withdrew one of the coins. He held it up to scrutinize it carefully. Though, it was difficult for his eyes to focus.

“They look real-enough to me” he said finally.

“Firstly, you’re drunk, and second, you’re looking at the face of the coin. There’s not much difference in that view. Try looking at the edges.”

Again Lieschter looked hard, this time at the coin’s profile. Silver Dawn took another and joined him.

“They’re quite rough, but aside from that it doesn’t really say too much. They probably just weren’t buffed and polished after being minted.”

Blood Moon was already shaking his head.

“Molded. Not minted. There’s a difference, and I should know after all. My father is a goldsmith. I spent enough time helping him out with his forge when I was young that I know what I’m talking about. Zebras mint their coinage by striking. They use a pair of dies to press the image onto each side of a gold or silver blank. Those things you’re both holding were cast out of molten metal. The rough edges are from the edges of the molding dies. If they were genuine they’d be smooth.”

Both Lieschter and Silver stared at Blood Moon with rather blank expressions; neither sure what to make of what they’d just been told.

“Fine!” Blood Moon snorted in frustration as he grabbed one of the questionable gold pieces from the bag. “If you need further proof, here it is!”

Taking the coin he placed it on the table and began to scrape the face with a small steel knife he carried. At first only little shavings and gold dust could be seen, but after a moment he held it up to show his companions. It took a moment for the surprise to register, but both Silver Dawn and Lieschter were amazed as they stared at Blood Moon's undeniable proof. The gold covering had been stripped away to reveal a dull-silver color.

“They’re made of lead. They’ve been coated with gold somehow. I don’t know what kind of process might have been used, but I’ve never seen craftsmanship like this before. We need to show these to my father and mother. They might know something.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t” came Light Paw’s unexpected and stern voice from behind them.
They turned to see that the architect of their current situation had very easily approached from their collective blind spot. She quickly sat down, just barely waiting for Silver Dawn to make room for her.

“You really are ‘Light Paw’” Lieschter said wryly.

“You weren’t that hard to approach; on account of how drunk you are” she quipped as she hurriedly grabbed for the counterfeits both on the table and in the talons of those present. “And these two don’t have a hunter’s peripheral senses.”
As she spoke, She stuffed the pieces back into the pouch that Blood Moon had brought them in; all but the one that had been damaged by Blood Moon's exposition. “What have you done?” she groused. “Did you damage any more of them?”

“No. Just the one.”

Light Paw sighed in relief as she re-tied the drawstring and pushed the bag back in Blood Moon’s direction. He accepted it back with visible trepidation.

“I suppose that if one of you was going to figure that out it would have to be the goldsmith’s son, but it’s not like I could've send you to the Rex.”

She eyed the gold piece carefully before tossing it into a nearby open fire pit.

“I may be drunk” Lieschter began “,but I’m reasonably certain that planting fake evidence against someone you’re trying to defend from the same is, at best, a contradictory move.”

He was met with an annoyed look.

“You’re right. You are drunk!”

“I’m more confused then ever now.” Silver Dawn clutched her head. “Why would someone who wants to frame Aureate smuggle in fake stackets? As evidence they wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny. What’s furthermore, the genuine article is ubiquitous in Deep Harbor. ”

“These aren’t what you saw the other day. I’ve had them in my possession for some time now.”

“Then…” Blood Moon began “where did they come from, or rather who made them? How?”

Light Paw just shook her head.

“I couldn’t begin to answer where or how, but I got them in a trade I made with Larder.”

This news surprised Lieschter very much. Larder was the type of griffon that most others avoided.

“Well this is a side of you I’ve never seen before” he said. “Most never go near that character. I’ve often wondered if he’d made inroads within the guard.”

“It would behoove you to crawl back underneath your hangover right now” she growled. “I’ve never violated my mandate to secure and protect our den. Larder conducts business. I was a customer. Nothing More! As for why I wanted those at the time,” she pointed to the bag of stackets, “that’s immaterial to what we’re trying to accomplish now, and the less you know the better. Please just accept it when I tell you that this could offer our mutual friend an out.”

Lieschter leaned forward putting the tip of his beak just inches from Light Paw’s. It took great concentration to keep himself steady as he delivered his ultimatum.

“No. We already know too much to be your pawns in this endeavor. We’re not going any further into this unless you start telling the truth.”

It looked for a second as though Light Paw was going to snap at her former subordinate, but surprisingly, she didn’t.

“Alright. I’ll tell you what’s going on, but you three may not like it.”

“I already don’t, but what exactly are we trying to accomplish?” asked Blood Moon. “It seems like all we’ve done is to dig Aureate Solarclaw another pit to fall into.”

“You’re getting it” Light Paw nodded. “Whether or not there’s a plan to plant evidence against Aureate, there most certainly is a conspiracy of some kind, and right now it can’t go forward as long as there’s nothing.”

“I recovered those things in your friend’s dwelling. It seems like there’s plenty of evidence.”

“Exactly! Evidence that I-… we control now. That potentially gives us control of the narrative. After we have that, what do you think the guild’s going to do? Admit the truth?”

“They’ll just plant their own! Won’t they?” Silver added. “This makes no sense if we’re to keep it hidden.”

“This makes perfect sense” Lieschter countered.

Suddenly, three sets of eyes were on the one who’s haze of intoxication seemed to be thinning at last. Lieschter locked his gaze on Light Paw as he continued.

“We’re not going to keep this a secret. Are we? I remember what you said about how ‘we have to tell better lies.’”

Light Paw nodded slowly; her eyes betraying astonishment at Lieschter’s insight.

“To be more accurate, I think our plan is to tell the Guild’s lies better than they do, and our assignments tonight were geared towards that end.” He turned to Silver. “Let’s recap. What was your assignment tonight?”

“I was asked to get my father to talk about what he thinks is going on within the Guild right now.”

Lieschter nodded. He reached for the water pitcher and poured himself a cup before continuing.

“And I was asked to figure out what’s tumbling around in the rumor mill and also who’s been pushing it. All of these are what she” he pointed to Light Paw somewhat accusingly “would require to start things herself. Is that right?”

“Yes. It is” Light Paw nodded back at Lieschter. “I’m a little amazed that you, of all griffons, figured that much out on your own; while drunk too.

“So…how do we use what we’ve gathered tonight?” asked Blood Moon. “Where do we go from here?”

“Jail” Light Paw simply said.

“What?!” the two youngest exclaimed in unison. Lieschter simply nodded. He almost cracked a smile, finding their reaction strangely amusing.

“Well,” he began “you don’t think that she called us to meet here simply to compare notes do you? We’re going to be apprehended and interrogated. Caught with the goods, as it were. I’d say they’re already waiting outside for Light Paw to give them the signal.”

“This is insane! I’m not going to be incarcerated for someone else!” Silver Dawn almost spat with panic mounting in her voice. “Even if it is for someone like Aureate Solarclaw.”

“I would” Aureate’s lifelong friend said calmly. “Would she do the same for me? I think she might.”

“What if Blood Moon and I don’t want to go along with this? What if we refuse to lie for you?”

“Then tell the truth. I’ll figure out how to use that. You’ll all be exonerated eventually anyway. We just need to start making noise before the Guild does.” Light Paw began to slide off of the bench as she spoke. She looked at them all with compassion. “I’ll take care of you all. I promise. Now, try to run please. It’ll look good.”

In retrospect, Lieschter thought, perhaps it looked a little too good. No sooner had Light Paw spoken that he promptly braced himself against the wall and kicked the underside of the table. The roughly-sawed wooden surface catapulted right into Light Paw’s face. Spilling the various dishes and other objects onto the floor in a noisy crescendo. The two others bounded away. Blood Moon was making a dash for the entrance while Silver Dawn spread her wings and tried to fly out of an open front window. They never made it out. The door’s lattice covering suddenly swung shut in Blood’s face while the window shutters closed in Silver’s. Less than a minute later that all three of them had their faces held to the floor as their wings were tied back in a very uncomfortable position and collars fixed on their necks. All the while in the background the establishment’s owner was noisily demanding compensation from the guard leader for everything that had been damaged.

They were eventually led away by the guard detachment. The rest of the night was a blur for Lieschter, but he remembered thinking one thing above all else as he was finally allowing his eyes to drift closed. Not just anyone would do this for someone else. Was this for his best friend, or was it just his excuse to avoid those wedding plans that they'd made for him? Marriage was supposed to be like prison. Wasn't it?

****** Nothing Human ******

Charlie tugged on the silkscreens to ensure they’d been properly anchored at all points. When he was satisfied he turned towards Kearn and motioned for him to come.

“It’s secure. Bonnet and mask please.”

Kearn approached with the final pieces of Charlie’s “moonsuit” regalia. The unique garment had been produced to help protect what, at the time of the ship’s initial construction, had been some of the human’s few articles of clothing. Like the silkscreen dust barriers, it too was made from a densely woven silk that refused to allow small airborne particles to attach themselves. It covered Charlie’s entire body and anything he wore. It included also a pair of gloves, boot covers, and the head and face covers that he’d just donned. If nothing else, it at least made Charlie’s self-appointed stewardess feel like she was taking good care of him. Charlie hated it. It would quickly become hot and then damp with his own perspiration. It was also quite noisy.

Having applied the masking garments, Charlie turned to address Kearn’s engineering crew; all of whom had gathered within the screened-off perimeter of the inner platform. They too were decked out in equally uncomfortable protective gear.

“Alright everyone. I’m sure that our recent spate of accidents is leaving you all on on-edge. You've all done well, though. I’d even go one-farther and say that some of you’ve been rather selfless and heroic. But right now I’m laying down the law and Kearn is going to enforce it. None of you is to cross the black line unless I say so.”

As he spoke he motioned to a black circle painted on the deck. This had a diameter roughly that of the Assembly and denoted the area to be avoided while the inspection hatch was open.

“Now” he continued “I’m going inside for a look, and if everything is alright-”

“Unlikely” Charlie heard Kearn mumble under his breath.

He shot the zebra an annoyed look before continuing.

“That is to say, I want it to be alright. Hopefully, whatever caused all that fuss is easy to fix. Yet, my point is that none of you are to place yourselves in danger!”

To highlight the danger Charlie selected what he thought was an appropriate analogy.

“So you’ve all seen what harm electricity can do if you don’t respect it. The Elements are the same way.”

Their heads nodded in agreement, but one, belonging to a zebra named Gow, simply stared back at him questioningly.

“If you’ve got a question that’s germane then ask” Kearn said so that everyone could hear.

Gow raised his forehoof with some hesitation.

“Electricity is dangerous to everyone. Right?”

Charlie and Kearn nodded in agreement.

“So if the Elements are dangerous in the same way then why is it that they don’t hurt you?”

“This is hardly the time to ask things that we can’t answer” Kearn huffed in annoyance.

“But you said that-”

“You could ask if it had anything to do our current activity!”

“It’s not a bad question” Charlie added, trying to take the edge off of Kearn’s gruff response. “It just can’t be addressed in only a few words.”

Though disappointed, the zebra nodded reluctantly. Charlie couldn’t really blame him. He too wished he knew the answer as well.

“Moving along” he said resuming his previous speech. “No one crosses the line or touches anything that I drop out of the bottom unless I or Kearn instruct you to.”

All present stamped their hooves once in unison and stood at attention to indicate their readiness.

Charlie nodded and turned to Kearn.

“Let’s get this over with.”

They walked towards the Harmonic Assembly. The inspection cover was still open. Having been lowered out of its normal position just prior to all hell breaking loose the previous evening. It’s surfaces were now picked clean of the earlier dust particles and the polished metal that composed it now shone like the day the smiths had made it. Charlie knelt down and examined its profile. He was happy to see that the clockwork locking mechanism was still in good shape. The cork-wood gaskets were also in fine shape as well. Though, they were a little dry. He quickly pointed this out to Kearn.

“Alright” he thought to himself. “Enough stalling. Here goes.”

He donned his dust goggles and looked up into the sphere. There wasn’t much to see from this angle. His view was obstructed by the Element-Primary presser-plate; a flat piece of brass that formed the base of the internal pusher assembly. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss at the moment. He put his hand up and felt the interior of the sphere. It felt smooth; not grainy as he’d expected. He looked back at Kearn, holding up his gloved hand.

“No dust” he said.

Kearn winced. This meant that Ripple’s field had indeed penetrated the interior of the Assembly. But had she touched any of the Elements? Charlie couldn’t be sure until he was inside. He carefully maneuvered himself until he was lying on his back underneath the access. From there it was a simple matter of extending his arms and legs into the opening and lifting himself inside.

It was cramped, the air smelled stale, and overall felt like being inside of a fishbowl. He pushed himself upward by digging his heels against the smooth interior until he could grab at the edge of the presser plate. He then used that to pull himself up past the edge to get his first glimpse of the Harmonic Elements themselves. He was hardly prepared for what awaited him.

He must’ve been silent for a while because he soon heard Kearn’s voice asking him what he could see. “A good question” he thought to himself. He simply tapped the bottom of the glass with his boot heel to indicate that he was alright. He wasn’t ready to describe the interior of the Assembly to Kearn until he could take in the sight himself.

With the exception of the bottom area where Charlie had entered, the entire interior of the sphere-shaped lead-crystal container was now studded with what had to be thousands of crystal protrusions; not unlike the ones that had infested Ripple’s horn. He pulled a magnifying glass from his breast pocket and examined a small section of them, taking in their various facets. They were quite beautiful except for the fact that they didn’t belong. It was tough to get perfect light since the only source were the lanterns hung outside of the Assembly, but the overall impression was that of being inside of a large geode. Yes. A geode. That was it.

He turned his attention towards the element support construct. This polished-marble creation consisted of five branches of varying length. It looked vaguely tree-like. Each of its branches extended outward with one of the elements securely cradled at its terminus. Yet now, the branches had extended too far outward! Not just Element-Amber as previously suspected. Each of the five secondaries had been forced into the sphere’s containment wall. Large gouges in the sphere’s interior surface proved this. Then there was Element-Primary. The lavender-colored gem was supposed to be at its neutral position at the top of the support construct, but Charlie’s heart felt like it was about to stop as he realized that he couldn’t see it at all!

He began struggling with renewed fervor as he worked his way up into the space between the branches. Presently, he found himself standing by the trunk and pulling the side panels off. He let out a sigh of relief as he removed a final access to reveal the Amerigo’s single-most-important component. The final piece had dropped into the center of the assembly. From that it wasn’t hard to figure out why the other five had reacted the way they had. But to end up in such a position Element-Primary would need to have forced itself there with each of the other five and the control plunger pushing back; no doubt causing significant damage in the process.

He stared at the wrecked machine for several moments until his concentration was interrupted by someone’s hoof tapping on the exterior of the sphere.

“Probably Kearn just being impatient” he guessed. He was about to snap at the Zebra but suddenly realized just how important this would be to his colleague. Kearn was the chief-engineer.

He dropped to his knees and began pulling away the copper pins that held the different sections of the presser plate together. Kearn would need it gone if he was to see what had happened. Only then could he start pulling together replacement parts.

“Kearn. I’m making a hole for you. Just wait a moment.”

After removing close to five sections there was a clear view straight out of the bottom. Kearn’s head could be seen looking back up at Charlie.

“Put the rest of your mask on!” Charlie almost yelled, but kept his voice down to avoid hurting his own ears within the confined space.

Kearn didn’t listen. In fact he did the opposite. The engineer’s eyes went wide and he promptly launched himself up into the already crowded space. Charlie was so surprised at this that he almost forgot to protest but remembered half-a-second later.

“Have you lost your mind?!!” he hissed as his friend. “These things can kill you!”

“Only by direct contact” Kearn countered.

Charlie examined the zebra’s position and could see that he’d positioned his body well away from the terminus of any of the branches and was supporting his weight by leaning on the unexposed section of the trunk.

“Holy Toledo!” The zebra uttered the phrase he’d borrowed from the human rather comically.

Charlie’s patience was running too thin to laugh, though.

“Ok. You’ve seen it! Please get down now. Get me the capsules and I’ll make the Elements safe.”

Kearn ignored him.

“Not until I’ve seen what’s happened to the shocks!”

“Why do we even have these rules?” Charlie grumbled as he worked his way down to the inspection hatch. He poked his head out of the bottom and could see Scotch nervously pacing around the circular black line.

“Hey Scotch.”

Scotch stopped pacing and looked up at him expectantly.

“I need you to go to the special-tools cabinet and bring us the element caps.” Charlie paused and went over things in his mind. “I’ll also need a mallet, a pry-bar, and…a chisel.”

The pegasus’ eyebrows shot up in response.

“It’s not worth explaining right now” Charlie said shaking his head. He tossed his master key at Scotch’s feet. “You’ll need that to unlock the cabinet. Also, have someone get Crack down here. I need to discuss this with him.”

“I’m already here” came Crack’s voice from behind.

Charlie craned his neck to see. Though, his position, hanging upside down by his legs from one of the support construct’s branches, made that difficult. Crack walked around to face him.

“Do you need anything else?”

Charlie shook his head.

“Get your job done” he said to Scotch.

Scotch nodded and moved off. As soon as he had, Charlie motioned for his second-in-command to move closer. The griffon carefully crossed the black line as though he were walking on hot coals.

“So?” he asked as soon as he was close enough. “How does it look?”

“It’s not exactly pretty. It’ll take some cleanup, but it’s not a disaster. Though,” he added “I think Kearn here is ready to cry.”

“I am not!” came the Kearn’s muffled response.

“What’s he doing in there!?” Crack exclaimed. “You haven’t capped the Elements yet!”

“This is hardly the time for caution” the zebra responded.

“Just the same” Charlie answered back “you can’t do anything but look until I get the caps on the elements. Just come down already. The three of us need to discuss things at length.”

Charlie had given up trying to read the zebra, but his words seemed to have gotten through as several moments, and several bruises, later Kearn and Charlie were sitting underneath the sphere with Crack.

“I actually came down here to give you an update on the two chuckleheads that got sent to the infirmary” Crack began.

“They have names don’t they?” Charlie replied. He tried his best to grin; showing how he wasn’t the least bit afraid for them. Though, it was a bit of a lie. “What did Lance say about their condition?”

Crack shook his head in a similar wry-sarcastic fashion as he spoke.

“Lance said, and I quote, ‘Forget Charlie’s treatment orders! He’s not a physician!’ Then…” Crack paused for effect. “Then he started doing exactly what you’d suggested for Ripple.”

“Of course” Kearn nodded. “What about Turner? How did he fare from whatever he suffered?”

“That’s what I’ve come to talk about. You see, while Ripple is in a rather tranquil sleep-state Tuner is anything but. He woke up on the way to the infirmary, and he’s so filled with energy they almost had to tie him into the bunk.”

“Energy?”

“Yes. He’s like some foal who’s had too many sweets. Lance and Salt are convinced it’s just delirium setting in, but….
he grabbed my talon in his telekinetic field while I was there and when he’d pulled me close to him he started babbling a set of nonsensical numbers.”

“Numbers? That’s a little vague.” Charlie grimaced. “You do realize that the majority of what Turner does is numerical. If I had to guess I’d say that he is delirious.”

“Please let me finish” Crack continued. “I went up to chart room where he’d been working on retracing our path, just like you’d asked him to. He’d been laying out our assumed course on the map and then he was confirming his assumptions mathematically. I’m no maths aficionado like him, but he’d been keeping such good notes I was able to complete his most recent projection.”

Charlie and Kearn leaned in closer, as if Crack were telling some new campfire story that had never been heard before.

“And?” Kearn asked.

“And suddenly all the numbers made sense. He was trying to tell me that he knew what caused the issue with the Elements, or more accurately, he knew where it was.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m not sure, but Turner most certainly is.” Crack looked up at the assembly for a second before nervously glancing back at Charlie and Kearn. “What worries me is that before I left the infirmary he said something final that I’d initially dismissed as the same insanity he’d been spouting, or what I thought was insanity, but now it seems to make more sense.”

“Just tell us! Please!” Charlie interrupted. “I don’t have Turner’s supposed level of energy right now.”

“He said that ‘they’” Crack gestured towards the Assembly “had made it clear. I think he means that the Harmonic Elements told him the map coordinates, or at least how to locate them.”

“You’re right” Charlie nodded in agreement. “That does sound insane. Even for that unicorn.”

“I think you should talk to him. It might at least snap him out of whatever state he’s in. He was almost asking for you in a way. He was also saying that you” he gestured towards the human “’had to be clear’ and that your gift was your curse.”

“I think he drew that from my Spider Man stories,” Charlie almost chuckled as he stood up and peeled off his gloves “and again I agree with Lance. I think he’s delirious, but I will go see him. All of his closest friends should. And…” he turned to face the Assembly “since the three of us are here right now you can help me put the inspection cover back on while we’re gone. I’ve had enough drama for a bit.”

Drama was all Charlie could think of as he made-safe the Platform and made his way to the infirmary with his first-officer and chief-engineer in tow. The events of the last week, not the least which had been in the last twenty-four hours, made him want to climb the nearest ladder to the weather deck. He imagined himself taking up position on top of one of the rudders and simply screaming his frustrations away.

“Why God?! Why me?! Why always me?!!” he imagined himself saying.

The sheer thought of such a ludicrous and ridiculous escapade made him smile. Maybe he’d have to work it into one of the annual dramas he’d write to keep the crew entertained. Sometimes he’d even act in them, but there were too many uninitiated members of the crew for him to show his face, or even his form, at the moment. They were all supposedly still off the ship at the moment. Though, they would be on the way back soon. The ship’s captain could move freely right now, but while underway he had to be careful when moving about. To that end he would rely on those he already trusted to help keep himself concealed.

As they approached the infirmary they were passed by Salt who apparently was on her way back from her and Copper Lance’s supply closet. The mare nodded to the human, but she eyed Charlie with a strange look as she passed.

“What’s that for?”

The nurse paused and looked back at him.

“I just sutured the strangest bite-mark I’ve ever seen” she snorted. “That is, I’m quite familiar with the teeth that made it, but for it to end up on Ripple’s ear is something I’d never expected!”

“I’m sorry about that, but it was the option that was likely the easiest to recover from. Would you rather I’d broken her horn?”

“No” she sighed. “You probably did the right thing. My mother used to pinch mine and my sister’s ears if we’d been bad. It made us almost collapse every time.”

“How is she?” Kearn asked.

“I gave her four stitches, but time will have to tell. We decided to draw on the good stuff to help make her comfortable and ward off infection.”

Charlie, Crack, and Kearn looked at her saddle bags to see two of Copper Lance’s special wound dressing kits; something that they actually had very few of at the moment.

“What about her horn?” Crack inquired.

“No change there” she said shaking her head. “Copper Lance may know how to treat impingement, but neither of us have ever seen it that bad. We removed a few of the smaller crystal points, but we stopped when we realized just how deep the others went.” She started walking towards the door again but called over her shoulder. “You’ll have to ask Lance about the rest.”

She disappeared inside. Charlie and company followed her. The infirmary was deserted now. Though, two patient bays directly opposite of each other had their curtains drawn. They watched as Salt disappeared behind one of them. Copper lance was at his desk just to the left of the door they’d entered. He looked up from the book he’d been studying.

“What’s up Doc?”

“Shhh!” Lance hissed as he motioned for them to be quiet. “You’ll wake him up!” He motioned towards to opposite bay which Charlie had guessed must have had Turner sequestered within. “I only just got him to fall asleep.”

The rest of them nodded.

“How’s Ripple?” Charlie asked.

“We’ll…” Lance began “apart from what you did to her ear and the condition of her horn I’d say she’s fine. Her life’s not in danger in case that’s what you were asking.”

Charlie nodded, but the doctor wasn’t finished.

“My worry is how to get those crystal points removed from her horn without causing permanent damage.”

“What sort of Damage?” asked Crack.

“I’m first and foremost a battlefield doctor. Which, in addition to triage, means I’m better with wings than I am with horns.” He motioned towards the references he was studying. “I’m having to learn as much as I can about how a unicorn’s horn is cared for, but according to these, if we’re not careful we might cause her to lose her magical ability, if she hasn’t already.” He sighed as he shut one of the books and pushed it away. “What I need is to talk to a university-trained unicorn doctor.”

“Fresh out of those!” Kearn snarked.

Charlie thought for a moment before answering.

“If you had one to consult with…do you think they would have the answers you need?”

“Possibly” he said scratching his head. “For now she’s comfortable. Though, she hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Yes. Speaking of which…” interjected Crack. “We came to see Turner. We thought it might help.”

Copper Lance huffed with frustration.

“He’s been like some histrionic hyperactive colt ever since he woke up initially. I think he must have tired himself out finally. I can tell you that the confusion is likely wearing off. He did start speaking in complete sentences eventually.”

“And I can Siiing!” the unicorn’s voice interrupted them.

Turner’s sing-song voice caught them all of guard. While Charlie, Crack, and Turner looked on in astonishment as four hooves hit the ground and the curtain around the stallion’s bed was flung wide open, Copper Lance eyed his nearly-out-of-control patient from underneath a barely restrained storm cloud of frustration. From the opposite side of the compartment Salt’s head appeared from behind a patient curtain.

“Back in bed!” she snapped at him. “If you don’t stay there I’ll tie you in!”

Turner’s ears, and even his mane, drooped as though he was a naughty child. He complied and sat himself back under the covers. Charlie walked over towards his bedside followed by the others. Turner’s demeanor perked up immediately when he saw them all together.

“Ah! You all came! Great!!”

He waved both hooves wildly as though he were trying to get their attention from miles away.

“I have it! I have what you asked for and then some! But you’ve got to hurry before I lose it!”

“I’d say you’ve already lost it” remarked Kearn.

Turner either didn’t hear or chose to ignore him.

“Its all so clear-!”

Charlie held up his hand.

“Hold on. The only thing that’s not clear right now is you. The rest of us need you to slow down and let us ask you a few questions.”

Turner shut his mouth and waited.

“Alright” Charlie said trying to sound calm and soothing in his tone. “So you said that you have what I asked for. Did you mean that you’ve finished your projections?”

Turner shook his head vigorously.

“No! I mean, I was mostly done, but I was shown the rest.”

“Show? By whom?”

“Them!” he pointed aft. “The Assembly! The Shards! The Elements!”

“The Elements aren’t alive” Kearn snorted. “What do you mean they told you?”

Turner scratched his head for a moment before he answered.

“They’re not alive, but we are! Besides, the ship’s Difference-Engine isn’t alive, but it tells us things. We pose it maths-based questions, and it tells us the answers.”

Charlie scratched his head now as he tried to rationalize what his friend was saying. Turner’s statement actually did make sense on a certain level. The Difference-Engine was quite possibly the Amerigo’s most significant achievement. It served as the ship’s mechanical calculator and was used to compute navigation coordinates and astronomical tables; an utterly unique piece of machinery for this world. Some of the crew even wondered if it was “alive” after seeing what it could do.

“Are you saying that the Harmonic Elements calculated our original position? Like the Difference Engine?”

“Our position? No! No! No!” Turner took off again. “Nobody will care about our position when we know where to find the other end of what caused our little mishap the other day.”

“If by ‘mishap’ you mean whatever nearly knocked us from the sky, then that might be useful information” stated Crack. “Provided it’s true of course.”

“Turner, the Difference-Engine is a mechanism. At best it can only do what it’s told” Kearn said as he continued to play devil’s advocate. “You dial in the numbers, by design I might add, and then, if the thing doesn’t jam or eat your punch card, you’ll get a solution; a solution that’s only as good as what you put in.”

Theatrics notwithstanding, it was becoming apparent what their friend was trying to convey despite the lack of credibility brought on by his behavior.

“So…” Charlie formed his words carefully. “Let me just go out on a limb here, but it sounds as if you’re telling me that the Elements… no the entire Harmonic assembly was placed in it’s current state when it was acted upon by some outside force?”

“And…” Crack picked up “that because of this, the entire Assembly is now pointing back towards the point of origin?”

“And you’ve been granted a glimpse?” Kearn finished for them. “If that’s the case, I suppose it’s easier to follow.”

They stared at Turner but he didn’t seem to be listening. He was staring past the them at the wall. His attention span apparently waning.

“Focus please!” Charlie said snapping his fingers.

“But I’m just so hungry. That picture over there is making me-”

“You’ll get food when it’s time” replied Copper Lance in his most conciliatory tone.

Turner seemed to pout for a few seconds, but presently looked back up at them as he seemed to be struggling to place his thoughts back in order.

“What were we saying?”

Crack breathed deeply in exasperation.

“Do you believe that the Harmonic Elements have conveyed information about the location of-”

“No no no! Not another shard!” he said interrupting him in mid sentence, but he appeared to think for a moment. “At least… I hope not. Well, not very likely. I mean possibly? But if you say it like that it doesn’t sound or feel nearly as miraculous as it felt like a little while ago. Besides, for everyone who’s suffered through a couple chapters of expose I think they deserve a truly-fitting reveal.”

“What are you on about now?” Crack asked; quite confused by Turner’s words.

“I wouldn’t expect any of you to know” he shrugged. “I’m not even certain I do.”

Charlie brushed off the last comment as a product of the unicorn’s altered state, but at the same time, of more concern was his earlier reference to an element shard.

“Now I know you’re not playing with a full deck. We have all six of the Element shards.” Crack stated as he looked at Charlie for confirmation. “Don’t we?”

Charlie looked back at him trying to mask his own surprise at Turner’s statement.

“Are you serious about another shard?” Charlie inquired slowly. “Kearn is right. It seems apparent that there are only six of them, and that we’ve got them all. There was a time in our ongoing quest that I would’ve taken that notion quite seriously, but that was before we found Element-Aqua. Trust me Turner. There are only six of them. The integrated geometry confirms it, and we’ve got them all.”

Turner looked crestfallen as he stared back at Charlie.

“It’s alright” Charlie said as he tried to calm his slightly deranged friend. “I can see that you’ve had an epiphany of sorts, but let’s be reasonable. Isn’t it more likely that this ‘insight’ was brought on by your experience when helping Ripple?”

“We’re very grateful for your risking your own hide by the way” added Kearn.

“B-but it’s s-so clear” Turner stammered, his jaw quivering like a child who’d just learned there was really no tooth fairy.

Charlie continued. “You keep saying that. ‘So clear.’ But it seems like the only thing that hasn’t been ‘clear’ is you. You’ve said some things that really make one stop and think. While it’s true that we used the previous versions of the Assembly to find the other shards and then add them, we eventually found them all.”

Without warning, Turner’s mood made another about-face and he immediately grinning from ear to ear.

“That’s it! I think I’ve got it now!”

Everyone else exhaled in a frustrated sigh.

“Now I know why I wanted to sing! I had to banish that awful music we were making just before the accident! It was so slow and it made my horn feel like a tuning fork every time we plucked the string.”

“I have some work I should be doing right now.” Kearn said as he started backing away. “If you’ll please excuse me.”

“Yes. That’s right” Turner answered back as he nodded. “After all, it was the Elements that were plucking the string every time we passed it. The notes!” He placed his hooves over his ears. “They just got higher and higher every time it happened, and the tambre was so rough! I remember it all now!”

At this point even Charlie was losing patience.

“Turner. You were on the bridge, at the chart station, while you supervised the flight deck when the accident happened.”

“Precisely! I still can’t figure out why it didn’t bother me at the time.”

Abruptly, Kearn, who had been slowly making his way to the door turned and walked back. In fact all of them gazed back at the unicorn with renewed interest.

“What did you say?” asked Copper Lance.

“Well it hurt at the time, but for some reason I couldn’t feel it. Until…”

“Until you remembered” Kearn finished the sentence for him.

Though to any average individual this statement might have seemed outlandish, it was now the first clear message they’d gotten from their colleague. On the Amerigo it signified a condition known as “The Slap.” It eventually affected most unicorns who tried to work on the Platform. Some lasted as long as a year with seemingly no problems, but then they would claim they couldn’t keep doing it. When pressed some of them had explained that the Harmonic Assembly was a source of physical discomfort or, in milder cases simply emotional distress when it was in use. However, what made it truly odd was the claim that they’d been unaware of the discomfort until suddenly remembering it. The more severe cases involved those that went the longest without getting “slapped.”

All five looked at each other for a few seconds. Charlie found himself perplexed. Turner didn’t work on the Platform. He purposely avoided it if he could. How could it have happened to him?

“So…” started Crack “you’ve been slapped then?”

“Who, me?” He shook his head. “I’ feel just fine about the Assembly, but I do remember that there was such noise during the survey run. I would hear it every time soon after we crossed the grid-twenty line in the flyover pattern. I just now remembered how horrible it sounded.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, what did ‘it’ sound like?” Kearn inquired?

Turner suddenly took on a much more contemplative expression. In fact his entire demeanor seemed to shift as he scratched his head thinking for a moment before answering.

“It wasn’t really a sound that could be heard. Does that make any sense?”

“About as much as you unicorns describing the Slap, but please continue.”

“If I had to draw a parallel it’s as though I wasn’t the one hearing the music, but I was the one making it.”

“The musician’s point of view then?” asked Charlie, but Turner began shook his head.

“Oh no. Not like that. Even the musician can hear the music, but his instrument can’t. His instrument is what’s making it.”

Turner paused again and adjusted his posture in the bed. The others tried their best to make sense of what he’d just said.

“Then…” Charlie began again “when you say that you… were the instrument, does that mean that you were the one producing the ‘noise’ that you’ve been talking about?”

“No, it wasn’t me. I just was told what it felt like. Call it empathy.”

“Told…” Charlie repeated “by the Elements?”

“I can’t think of anything else, but what’s important is how it felt. How it felt to be the instrument that was being played. It was so painful.”

“Painful?” asked Lance. He’d said little up till now, but the mention of pain was something that he his keen ears were attuned to.

“Yes. Any instrument can be played in such a way that sounds happy or sad or even angry, but until Charlie here shared some of his so-called music with us, I’d never thought that an instrument could sound as though it were in pain.”

“I hope you’re just referring to Ozzy Osborne” Charlie responded shaking his head. “Everyone here knows that there’s a right way to play an instrument and a wrong way.”

“And a destructive way” Turner added. “Let me ask you a question then. Why can’t you play your Fender anymore?”

“Because the strings wore out. Also, because I wanted the parts in the amplifier for other things.”

“And…?” Turner smiled mischievously.

“And because I wasn’t that good.”

“I’m convinced you put that instrument into an early grave. Some of the strings broke because of the way you plucked them. That’s what we were doing every time we crossed the same grid-line. It was like a string was stretched across the sky and we would pluck it every time we passed. As we moved along its length the pitch changed. It became more and more harsh. Until eventually we reached near the end and when it was pulled back it broke before it could release.”

Charlie turned to Crack, who seemed lost in thought. Suddenly he looked up. The griffon and the human locked eyes.

“Tether effect!” they both said at the same time.

“Do you think it’s possible?” Kearn asked. “What are the odds of running across a marker line; let alone here?”
What Kearn was referring to was an old, and almost forgotten, method used by griffon guilds and combines to mark territorial boundaries by superimposing map coordinates and lines upon territorial skies. They were a form of visual magic, and supposedly could be detected by using a special talisman not unlike the reckoner stone; or “Dreidex” as it was known on the Amerigo. They were no longer used for reasons of efficiency. They were difficult to maintain, and had been used against the clans during the Great Sky War. They were all supposed to have faded and disappeared centuries ago along with the old pre-war mapping craft. The area that had been the object of the Amerigo’s survey mission was now quite uncharted for a variety of reasons. Their purpose there had been to remedy this. For a modest fee of course.

“There’s no way it could’ve been anything like what your suggesting” Kearn eventually said shaking his head. “There’s no way” he repeated resolutely.

“How many other invisible lines in the sky could there be?” Crack answered. “That’s the only thing I can think of. Besides of course, the Flint Legacy.”

“Look, I’m not discounting either possibility. I’ve confirmed the assembly was acting strangely at a regular interval. So it’s possible that something was tugging at Element Amber whenever we passed by, but even if it was an old marker line, why would it be an issue? They’re the most benign form of magic anyone would ever run across. They’re in a lesser category than fireworks.”

“You’re both asking the wrong question” Turner interrupted as he seemed to be growing slightly agitated in yet another strange mood swing.

“Oh?” the griffon and the zebra responded.

“You ought to be asking what happened to both ends of the string we broke?”

Again they all started at him unsure of what he was getting at. Turner sighed, becoming more agitated an annoyed.

“Charlie! What happened when you broke your last string? The one that snapped while you were tuning it?”

Charlie’s hand immediately went to the side of his neck where he’d once been cut by the guitar string when the short end of the break had snapped back. This had caused the now five-stringed instrument to end up on the wall; in a place of honor of course.

“It hurt.” Charlie answered finally. “I-… Wait. Do you mean that this thing… whatever it is could have done some harm to someone?”

Turner’s mood made another abrupt about-face as he began bouncing up and down and nodding despite the grim implications of what he’d suggested.

“This is all just ridiculous speculation” Kearn interrupted. “We have no way of knowing that anything of note took place if such a thing happened as you suggested. Doesn’t this sound just a little bit trekkish to all of you?”

Everyone nodded at this, even Turner.

“But…” Turner started again. “Isn’t it worth considering how much damage was done to the ship’s inner mechanism? I mean- I guess I doubt that anyone was immediately affected. It’d have to be the luckiest- uh… unluckiest coincidence if someone was standing or flying at the spot that got struck. Think of the really interesting part. What got left behind, or better yet destroyed?”

Cracked jolted when he heard this. They could all see visible signs of worry crossing his face; with good reason too. What Turner had just alluded to was euphemistically referred to as a “broken-spell.” Unlike what was thought of in a fairy tale’s context, a broken-spell in this case was just that. It didn’t just go away. It could potentially be more dangerous than its original intent. In Charlie’s limited understanding he likened it to a broken glass bottle. A bottle was a tool. It’s purpose was quite clear. It would be quite harmless both before and after the contents were removed Provided of course, it were done the right way. If one were to break the bottle to get at the contents they might lose some or all of what was inside, but the real issue would be the danger of broken glass.

The thorns were supposedly composed of the fragments of broken spells. This could make some of their effects unpredictable at best. Crack’s concern wasn't unwarranted since it would be inflammatory at best to suddenly have a “briar-patch,” as they tended to call them, spring up anywhere beyond the foothills of the Black Mountains.

The Great Sky War, of some one-thousand years prior, had reshaped the world in more ways then one. One of the most profound blights was the “High-Hedge,” as it was known on the southern, or equine side of the Black Mountains. On the northern, or the griffon side, it was known as the “Glass-Curtain.” Though it wasn’t impassable, it was considered too dangerous to try by most. This had in-effect turned one large continent into two. The only way was to go around. The thorn barrier was despised by both griffon and equine alike, but both sides took comfort in knowing that the craft had been destroyed, and no further thorns could be produced.

Charlie’s contemplation was interrupted as Crack began pacing; a nervous habit he’d mostly been able to break himself of. He stopped and stared back at the rest of them. His tail still swished back and forth betraying his mental state.

“You’re not going to like this. Nobody is, but… we need to go and make sure that Turner’s worst-case scenario isn’t the truth” he said finally.

“Go?” Kearn asked. “Go where, and how do you even know?”

“He knows the same way that I do” Turner said nonchalantly. “He saw my work on the charts from just before I’d remembered all those things that I’ll probably forget about tomorrow. Once you know what you’re looking for it’s pretty easy to find it.”

“I have a feeling…” Charlie gritted his teeth “that it’s close to a settlement? Too close for comfort?”

Crack shook his head, but paused and thought for a moment.

“The nearby den isn’t what I’m worried about.”

“Then… what?”

Crack set his beak and lowered his eyebrows in a way Charlie could only liken to Donald Duck staring down a certain mischievous pair of chipmunks.

“I’ve tried to explain to you the ire that my people feel towards those with hooves. Haven’t I?”

They all nodded as though a weapon had been pointed at their collective throat.

“You should know that when I was young, and all the way through my academy days, that wasn’t the case. We had no hard feelings towards those of other races. There was fear born of ignorance, but mostly a sort of cautious curiosity had begun taking over. Yet… then the Peak war happened, and in the twinkling of an eye hatred towards all others was at a premium.”

“I know” Kearn answered. “You speak like this when you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

“After what we went through eight years ago, I don’t think that anyone on either side of the hedge wants a repeat of the Peak War” Copper Lance added. “That is what you’re suggesting yes?”

“I’m not worried about veterans like you and I. We’re not stupid enough to do anything like that again. The reality is that’s precisely the reason we’re not really welcome within our respective societies anymore. It has nothing to do with supposed maladjustment. We’re dangerous because we know that the real ones at fault were the Griffon Guild for provoking the fight and the Celestial Quorum for keeping it going while the zebra trade unions fanned the flames!”

“Would you please calm down and stay focused” Turner said in a strange ironic twist.

“Sorry, but you know how strongly I feel about all that.”

“Let’s just focus on why you’re so worried about the possibility of broken-spells in the middle of nowhere” said Charlie.

“Because… I don’t think that this ‘nowhere,’ as you say, is quite as remote as it once was.”

“Meaning?”

“With the exception of Lance here, you all saw the order details we received though our current client’s agents. The valley in question was a stated focus area; as were three others. Those requests bore the hallmarks of a plan to open up corridors of movement or trade routes by any other name. That means way-stations, and eventually lowland settlements.”

He paused to let it sink in.

“We griffons, with the exception of my den and a few others, may not like the lowlands that much, but we’re willing to tolerate it when profit is involved. In as little as five years we could be seeing all of that, and I would normally feel quite pleased. Crownwing is doing a fantastic job patching up the economic holes in his new confederacy. It almost makes me want to return home.”

The griffon smiled as he appeared to be remembering some of the things he liked about his homeland.

“Then you’re afraid for those who might come to be affected a few years in the future?” Kearn asked. “That seems quite noble, but why are you being so paranoid in the first place? This whole line of reasoning has been based on a rather unhealthy portion of what-ifs.”

“The Guild” Crack responded quite simply. “They’re not really taken that seriously anymore, but they still have enough power over hearts and minds to cause serious trouble for all. If anyone discovers, or worse is harmed, by a fresh collection of damaged and dangerous spell fragments you know they won’t just let that go to waste.”

Everyone was fully aware of the once-noble Mage Guild, that in years past had possessed nearly absolute power over the various griffon clans. They had diminished significantly over the last few centuries, but they still held clout within griffon statecraft. So much so, that despite how much the various oligarchs within the confederate legislative body despised it, they’d been forced to include them within their initial charter.

“You all know that they’ll do one of three things depending on the political climate as it relates them and their influence” continued Crack. “One, is they’ll ignore it and simply write off anyone who has any misfortunes. Two, which is the most likely, is that they’ll use it as political leverage with their Celestial-Quorum counterparts in any possible future negotiations by threatening them with the possibility that the equine magic guilds never really gave up the art of thorn-crafting and they’re trying to poison griffon territory. Finally three, which I’m the most fearful of, is that they’ll use the hatred they very expertly planted within our young ones to call for another useless war!”

“But that’s suicide!” Turner exclaimed. This time at least his reaction seemed appropriate to the situation.

“Is it really?” Charlie interrupted as he stared off into space.

Moments later he realized the others were staring at him waiting for him to finish.

“Suicide” he repeated. “The question is whether or not such a move could be classified as suicide or statecraft-strategy.”

Crack was nodding vigorously.

“That’s just how most of the Guild tends to operate” he agreed. “Any political clout they do possess is due to the fear that they may still have what’s been described in the history books. The truth is that their prowess is only a fraction of what it used to be. Not to put to fine a point on it, but if we look at more recent history we can see a pattern of conflict surrounding anything or anyone that bares their teeth or talons at them. When they can’t win a fight they’ll just start another one, real or ideological, with the hope that everyone forgets the first.”

“But still!” Turner interjected. “You can’t be serious about starting another war!?”

“They weathered the last one just fine. Didn’t they?” Kearn, who up to this point had said little regarding Guild policy, tersely added. “In fact, if I’m not very much mistaken, the rumor surrounding the triggering events of the Peak War was that someone may have figured out how to neutralize the thorns for good.” He almost chucked as he continued. “It would be an ironic turn of events if it turned out that the conflict had been started over a mutual agreement and not a disagreement. Wouldn’t it?”

“Mutual agreement?” Crack asked in confusion. “What do you mean ‘agreement?’”

“You all know as well as I do that the thorns have remained in place because they’ve dictated the shape of the world for almost a millennium. Both griffon and equine foreign policies are dependent on them. The party line on both sides is that there’s no way to remove them, but what if someone tried?”

“It would throw world-order into question then” agreed Charlie.

“Correct. It most certainly would. There are many on both sides who would welcome it, but inevitably there are those who would find themselves threatened.”

“The Guild most definitely” Crack added.

“Forgive me for interrupting again,” Turner said with some conviction “but I think Kearn was bringing up the Flint-Nation theory because there might be an opportunity here.”

“What opportunity?” inquired Charlie.

“Well I suppose it’s just a thought,” the zebra continued “but what if Flint Nation did leave behind a legacy? A legacy beyond the ruins of Flint Capitol.”

“Legacy? Of what sort?”

“Well…” Turner took over “ if I remember anything that my father taught me, it’s that spatial magic of the sort the thorns are composed, or more accurately what would be needed to eliminate them, doesn’t just go away. If someone doesn’t clean it up properly then it usually stays.”

“What’s furthermore,” Crack suddenly jumped in “if Flint Nation was clearing some of the thorns they would have started near their own capitol; likely to remove some of the local nuisances.”

They all exchanged glances that varied from worried, to excited, and just outright confused, but it was Copper Lance who took the opportunity to finally state what they were all thinking.

“Do you think it’s possible that what we stumbled across was that…” he hesitated, obviously searching for the correct phrase “that methodology? If it’s potentially so beneficial, could we afford to let such a thing stay secret? If that’s what we ran across of course?”

“Finally” Crack breathed in satisfied vindication. “There was a reason I was bringing up the Flint-Legacy possibility.” The rest paid little attention to him, though.

They all gazed at Charlie. It was decision time and no mistake. Charlie didn’t mind being in charge, but at moments like these he found himself being forced to step outside of the usual dynamic that he enjoyed with his friends. They were asking for instructions on what to do. It was time to be the Captain.

“I don’t know” he replied after several seconds.
They all looked at each other somewhat confusedly, but before anyone could answer back he continued.

“I mean I don’t know yet, but I think I’d like to find out.”

That answer seemed to satisfy them as they nodded and grinned at each other.

“So we’re going to investigate then?” Crack asked.

Charlie nodded.

“But if we’re going to search for Crack’s ‘briar patch’ or Turner and Kearn’s ah… ‘hedge cutter,’ for lack of a better term, then that means very low altitude in Skyfire territory; possibly even landing there. I’m not going to just arbitrarily put the Amerigo in a position where our stealth and secrecy would be significantly compromised.”

“Then I guess I’ll call a department conference later today” suggested Crack.

“Good idea.”

They all turned to leave, but stopped when Turner tried to follow.

“You’re staying in bed for the rest of the day!” Salt’s voice was the first to answer.

Turner relented and flopped back into the cot.

“Now, be good and I’ll see that you get something to eat soon” she added with satisfaction.

The others nodded and began to file out.

“Is there anything you’d like me to do while I’m languishing away down here?” the frustrated unicorn called to Charlie as he was about to walk through the door.

“Just listen to Lance and Salt for a change” he called back. “I need them to give you back to us. I have a feeling that you'll be needed in the near future.”

****** This Side of Order ******

Light Paw had actually never been inside Larder’s house before. The reason for this was mostly the same reason that any griffon in good standing with the Maestros, Matriarchs, and the Guild would have for avoiding it. To preserve one’s personal clout. In the current political climate, freedom of association had become a luxury not enjoyed by those in her profession. Yet despite this, certain griffons, Larder among them, openly flaunted their own disdain for such trappings.
It was at this moment that she found herself within the aforementioned social outcast’s gaze. No one was certain as to his actual age, but Larder was at least middle aged with a moppish tri-colored crest. He could very well have been younger than he looked, though. His usual demeanor and energy seemed to suggest a level of maturity that his love of tobacco and rumored love of drink had obviously not advanced as quickly as his physical appearance.

“So you did it” he stated with a mixture of pride and amusement in his tone.

“Yes. I did. Now tell me why I just sent my comrades to be incarcerated!?”

“Please calm down” he said dismissively. “I told you that you don’t need to worry about them now that they’re in a place the Guild can’t reach them. You do, after all, trust the enforcers who’ve taken custody. Don’t you?”

Although Larder was more than capable of disguising his eastern accent, he was allowing his voice to escape his beak with a tranquil flourish that was a characteristic of his mother tongue. Light Paw had to admit that it was soothing to a certain extent. The words wafted towards her much like the smoke of the tobacco leaves that were balanced within the speaker’s beak.

Larder must’ve noticed his newest accomplice’s preoccupation with his vice as he raised his talon and plucked out the roll of leaves. He stubbed it out in a dish on his table and continued speaking.

“If you didn’t want to trust my judgment then why did you come asking me to help solve your problems? I’ll remind you that I’ve never lied to you before.”

“To the best of my knowledge, neither I nor anyone else I know has ever given you the chance” she scoffed. “I know next to nothing about you except that you’ve acquired a reputation as a griffon who can solve problems.”

Light Paw was exhausted from the events of the last evening. She'd become frustrated enough to begin second guessing her decision to involve anyone else; let alone the most enigmatic and perhaps least-respectable of Stone Capitol’s inhabitants. At first it had seemed like a stroke of genius that she should enlist the one griffon who was always a free agent when it came to alliances. He wouldn’t have second thoughts about working against the seemingly omnipresent Guild. However, aside from that fact, what did she really know about him?

Larder was Rumored to be a Guild agent within some circles, a fact that Light Paw knew was false. She did however know that he was a contraband smuggler. His name, ‘Larder,’ was only something that others called him on account of the fact that he always seemed to have a surplus of almost everything; from goods to information. He had just shown up on the eastern highway some five years ago and entered town pulling a travel wagon bearing the crest of the Dawn Imperium. This had caused quite a stir since most had never seen an imperial griffon before. They seldom were seen outside their lands due to the secretive nature that they’d adopted over a century ago. Even at the height of the Peak War, eight years prior, there had been no response from the most distant of griffon lands. Yet, there he had stood, and he’d wasted little time in setting up a market stall next to the rest of the more-local traveling vendors like it was the most natural thing in the world.

At first, simply an idle curiosity for most of those visiting the markets, he’d begun to make a name for himself pedaling strangely detailed maps and charts. Other curiosities included different types of fine paper, writing implements, and well-made optical lenses. Most saw them as an accessory to the maps he sold, but after he’d shown some youths, herself included, that they could be used to light fires, he ended up earning some enmity.

When a fire erupted and destroyed several of the merchant stalls, Larder’s included, it had been blamed on him. Those around him demanded that he compensate them for their losses. That fast became their mistake. Through use of his own silver tongue he managed to goad them into settling the supposed debt by visiting a local, and somewhat illegal, gambling establishment. Whatever had happened inside wasn’t widely known, but those who’d participated left with less than they’d entered. Though, according to some, more than they’d deserved. Having been found guilty of nothing, whether or not that was the truth, Larder had settled down for a long stay; having purchased the deed to a house and a private box at the local assembly with the money he’d gained.

As to how he continued to support himself, none could answer. Rumors abounded when it came to Larder; from those that said he was just a smuggler, a spy for equine lands, or even a mage. Everyone did know at least one fact about him. He simply wanted to be left alone and live without being harassed, and most did just that; all but the most adventurous or rebellious. Light Paw had never believed that she would be one of them.

His home’s interior displayed little to answer some of those burning questions. It was a remarkably austere dwelling. There were a few scattered pieces of furniture around the common area; such as the table that separated them. Oil lamps were perched on a desk and chest of drawers. Their light glinted off a set of brass and copper water taps that were visible in the next room. Larder seemed to have running water. Probably from a cistern on the roof. While not unheard of, such things were uncommon. Though, aside from the on-demand water there was little else in the way of luxury.
Larder seemed to be following her gaze because he motioned towards the washbasin she’d been staring at.

“I brought those with me when I came here, in case you’re wondering. It takes a smith of higher caliber than even your husband to work with metals like those.”

“Were they-… are they important to you?”

He nodded.

“Once you’ve tasted the good life you don’t just give it up. I’ve been to places where nearly every home on the street has had these fixtures. But…” Larder stood and walked to the other side of the room as he spoke. “We can discuss indoor plumbing another time.”

He reached the wall and pulled aside the plain-looking tapestry that covered it to reveal several tall bookshelves. Light Paw almost gasped in surprise. She had seen many books before, but they had nearly always been simple scroll-based ledgers, or the occasional hard-bound tome which would be read from on high days and festivals. These were different. Even the plain ones were a feast for the eyes simply from how cleanly and perfectly crafted their covers were. The edges of the pages had been squared, and each leaf within them was the same size as its brothers. Some were trimmed with what looked like gold. Others still had ornately-decorated binding with designs that had been carved into or painted on by someone who must’ve been a master artisan. Script from dozens of languages, some she recognized and some she’d never seen before, adorned the spines of the nearly three, perhaps four, dozen treasures that occupied the shelves.

“You asked if my water taps were precious to me.”

Light Paw nodded without taking her eyes off the wall.

“Imagine how I must feel about these.”

He let his words sink in before turning his attention towards the shelves again.

“Why are you showing me these? It seems naive to let another griffon in on just where your most precious things are kept?”

Larder simply chuckled as he selected a codex bound with a black-colored material.

“I didn’t mean the paper. I was referring to what’s on it. I’ve memorized a large portion of it.”

He turned and placed the book on a small table nearly and started flipping through its pages.

“You see I’ve also been to places where objects like these are so numerous that it means practically nothing to have them, but it means everything to possess what’s inside.”

Light Paw could hardly pay attention what he was saying. She was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that Larder had in his possession something of greater monetary value than ten years worth of her old hunting pack’s kills! Even then, it was money that none of the team would ever see in one place. She wondered how someone who was supposedly a sell-out could care so little for the wealth such things as these represented.

“You haven’t answered my question. Why are you showing me these?”

He looked up from the table for a moment before continuing his activity.

“Fostering a trusting relationship I suppose” he answered finally. “All lasting relationships are built on trust. You chose to trust me earlier today when some of your supposed-allies turned you down. So now I’m choosing to return the favor.”

He looked up again. This time putting his eyes on Light Paw in a soft, but at the same time firm and resolute gaze.

“Right now you’re thinking that this new relationship will be some grand zero-sum game, and that you and I will be trading favors to stay equal. I’ll stop you right there to tell you that’s not the rules I live by.”

“Than what do you live by?”

“Good question. I suppose…” Larder pushed several pages aside to reveal one with several underlined words. “I suppose it’s like this” he cleared his throat as he read.

“’If anyone wants you to travel a distance with them you should go with them for twice that distance.’ Or ‘You should be prepared to give to anyone that asks you, and if anyone wants to borrow you shouldn’t turn them away.’”

Light Paw thought for a moment.

“Strange words. What are you reading?”

“I think they're various proverbs of a sort. It’s undoubtedly translated from some other language. If it’s a poem that fact might explain why it doesn’t rhyme.”

“What language?”

“I have no idea!”

He beamed as he spoke. His face looked different with a smile. It made him look a good ten years younger.

“But…” Larder continued “It’s still beautiful, and in a nutshell this tends to be how I try to live.”

“That’s a laugh!” she snorted with thinly-veiled sarcasm. “Everyone around knows that you’re not rich for nothing!”

“Everyone?” Larder’s eyebrow shot up as he gave Light Paw a wry smirk.

This time she couldn’t help but laugh.

“You expect me to believe that the king of the local gray-market is nothing but a misunderstood altruist?! Your cunning probably rivals that of Solarclaw’s uncle! I’ve seen you profit, and I can guess what your methods are.”
Larder’s composure didn’t alter one bit as he weathered, or perhaps just ignored, the last statement. He continued staring and then waved his talon at her with the same blase demeanor as he turned to put the book back on the shelf.

“It is true that I’ve been know to skirt the line a bit. One might even say that getting so close is breaking it anyway.” He turned back to face her. “I do conduct business, some of it quite profitable, that’s out of the normal purview of more ‘respectable’ entrepreneurs.”

He paused and let his words sink in.

“Is that what you wanted to hear? Because I can make our new relationship based on other things rather than trust. My point in choosing to reveal these things to you was to make sure you know that you’re not indebted to me.”

Light Paw stared for a moment before answering.

“I don’t believe you” she said bluntly. “But that won’t not going to be a problem. Will it?”

He sighed and turned to replace his bookshelves’ concealment.

“Will it?” she insisted.

“Of course not. You’ll at least trust me as far as our current collaboration goes won’t you?”

She nodded.

“No offense, but I already know that you’re different than other griffons. I just find it difficult to figure which direction you tend to lean in. I don’t know what you’re up to right now, but I’ll at least get something that I want out of it. So what’s our next step?”

“Our next step…” he turned back towards her again, but unexpectedly gazed past her towards the house’s entryway. “Our next step would be to let Aureate Solarclaw into the house before someone sees her.”

Light Paw whirled around to see a hooded-and-cloaked figure standing at the threshold. The individual pushed back the rest of curtain that covered it and entered. She realized, after they peeled back their hood, that it was indeed Aureate.

“Aureate! You fool! What are you doing here?!”

“I came because I was asking the same about you!” Aureate countered.

It was clear from her expression that the younger griffon was holding back tears of rage.

“What do you think you’re doing with him?! Larder is bad news and you know it! He’s already betrayed us!”

Aureate reached out to strike, what up to that moment, had been her beloved friend and mentor. Light Paw almost accepted it, but instinct kicked in and she grabbed for the outstretched talon. In a quick gamble about Aureate’s emotional state she yanked her surprised friend in as close as she could and wrapped her forelegs around her. It paid off. Aureate did the same and very unexpectedly began to cry. Now it was Light Paw’s turn to be surprised. Nothing made Solarclaw the Aureate cry! Even when she’d been a first-year huntress she’d silently endured every test and all the accompanying, physical, emotional, and verbal abuse; even graduating to dishing it out herself eventually. This turn of events had to be ill news!

“Aureate. What’s wrong!? What did…?” She looked up at Larder, locking him in an accusatory gaze. “What do you think Larder did to betray us?”

“Both of you keep your voices down.” Larder interrupted. He’d begun pulling a set of heavy winter curtains over the windows and the door; likely in hopes of dampening the ruckus. “Both of you come over here and sit at the table.”
Light Paw released Aureate and led her over to Larder’s table. She pulled out a seat and brushed aside the small dishes filled with ash and half-burned leaves. Larder sat down as well.

“Now. I’d like to know just how do you think Larder has betrayed us?” She asked again.

“Yes” added Larder as he began rolling some more leaves. “I’d like to know that too.”

Aureate breathed deeply and looked back at the two of them, her usual composure rapidly reasserting itself.

“I saw the arrest. I saw you betray my friend and your apprentices.”

Light Paw groaned and clutched her crest in frustration.

“I needed you to be at home with the only ones that I trust to protect you above all else! I don’t care if your relationship is strained! They’ll do just that!”

“And I remember what you said last evening. You said that you’ll do what we can’t” Aureate retorted. “I needed to know that you weren’t going to do anything detestable on my behalf!”

“So you snuck out to spy? I thought our relationship was built on trust!”

“Words to live by” Larder interrupted as he trimmed his smoke at both ends.

Light Paw ignored him.

“But none of that supports your accusations? The Arrest was supposed to happen.”

“Then…” Aureate pointed at Larder “was he supposed to pay the Sheriff then? Because I saw him do just that when I followed everyone back to the main constabulary. I couldn’t see his face, but I knew it was him.”

Light Paw turned to Larder who was preparing to light up using the table’s small oil lamp. She pushed the flame away before he could.

“You said that you trusted them to keep our friends safe.”

“Oh I do” he replied rather nonchalantly. “The sheriff tends to be very trustworthy as long as he’s paid on time. He wanted an advance, though; something I was happy to do.”

He looked up at the two of them.

“Don’t look so astonished. He’s a typical griffon. Besides, now your trio of friends will be a bit less uncomfortable in there. The Guild will be most displeased when they see how well they’re being treated, and how little access that their auditors will have to them.”

Larder was correct. Though it was an unpleasant revelation it shouldn’t have been unexpected. Light Paw swallowed hard as she and prepared to tell Aureate what was almost a lie.

“I warned them so they’d know it was going to happen, but you weren’t supposed to find out for a while longer.”

“Stop” Larder interrupted as he rescued the lamp from Light Paw and Aureate’s side of the table and finally lit up.

He puffed a few times before continuing.

“Our plan depends on her ignorance of what’s really going on here. If she knows too much there’s no plausible deniability. Though,” he frowned “it may already be too late.”

“I’m sick of this already” Light Paw said. “We’ve only barely set things into motion and I don’t think I can keep up the charade. We’ll just start telling lie after lie if it spins out of control like it feels. And-”

“Wrong! The Guild is telling the lies here. The beauty of our plan is that the theatrics we’re orchestrating will so confuse their perception of what the reality really is. They’ll change their lies to compensate so quickly and recklessly that they’ll put themselves in a corner. They may even end up telling the truth without realizing it! It will be beautiful to see them looking like the desperate fools they really are.”

Aureate simply sat there with confusion crossing her face.

“I have no idea what’s going on” she said eventually.

“Good” Larder smiled. “That’s how it should be. Now please allow your friend to get you home before the sun gets too high and you run the risk of being identified.”

“I don’t think I should until you tell one more thing.”

“What is it?” he sighed.

“Tell me the truth of this one at least. You paid the Sheriff to look after Lieschter, Silver Dawn, and Blood Moon. But did you pay him to look after my mother and father as well?”

“Of course not. There’s no need as far as I can see. Why?”

“My family’s home is being watched.”

This did seem to evoke some surprise from Larder.

“It’s being watched?” he asked slowly.

“Yes. They weren’t there when I left searching for Light Paw, but when I was returning, what had to be after midnight, there they were. I circled and counted at least three of them. That was when I went to confront you,” she pointed at Larder” and I found Light Paw here too. I… I thought for sure I’d been betrayed by at best you Larder, or at worst both you and my friend. That’s why I lost control after I came in. I’d normally use a blade to settle betrayal, but I’ve never been forced to pull one on a friend before.”

All three were silent for a moment. Larder broke the silence.

“Your foolish little decision to leave your shelter last night may be a blessing in disguise. Someone, and I think we all know who, is going to use your mother and father as part of their narrative against you. Now we know, so maybe we can use it to our advantage.”

“How?” asked Light Paw.

“You’ll need to give me some time on that.” He looked up at the intensifying sunlight from a small window in his loft. “Which shouldn’t be difficult considering that you’re probably expected back at your post very soon. “You” he turned to Aureate “can stay here. It goes without saying that you shouldn’t go back.”

Both of them nodded.

“Please listen. We’re going to do everything we can to help you. So just do as I ask and stay here, out of sight. If you choose not to listen to me you could at least listen to your mentor. Now, the day is starting soon and I’ve got things to do. Some of which will be important to our best-laid plans.”

As he spoke he stubbed out his smoke, collected the trays of ash, and threw them into his fire pit. He then turned to walk out of the door.

“What exactly are you going to do?” Light Paw inquired.

“I…” he turned and stared at them resolutely. “I’m going to go do the things that you can’t.”

****** The Lonely Hearts Club ******

“Let’s get started!”Charlie raised his voice to get attention.

The wardroom was filled with a mixture of earths, pegasi, unicorns, zebras, and griffons; all of them sitting around the long table. Those who couldn’t fit at the table stood along the wall. Each of those present was either a head of his or her respective department on the Amerigo; or their direct adjutants. They were also some of Charlie’s most trusted crew members outside of Crack, Kearn, and Turner. In turn they were trusted completely by their own subordinates. It was rare that they were all called into a single meeting, and because of this fact had been murmuring to each other exchanging thoughts about the events of the last day-and-a-half. This, coupled with the events involving the Elements, had cultivated a rather tense and pensive atmosphere.

Each there immediately stopped talking and looked at their captain with expectation when he spoke. It was clear that speculation, not all of it grounded in fact, was beginning to set in. Charlie racked his brain for a moment trying his best to start things off, but the best he could come up with was a line used in what had to be one of the worst sci-fi movies in film history.

“This is rumor control. Here are the facts” he started. “I’m sorry that there hasn’t been good communication between departments and workshops, but we made some mistakes after we landed. Those mistakes started with me for not keeping us in a state of full readiness. We were caught off guard when our misinterpretation of the Harmonic Assembly’s malfunction turned and bit us in our collective face.”

They all continued staring back at him. Charlie could tell that his overly-formal delivery was grating on their already strained patience. “Just get on with it!” their faces seemed to say.

“Alright!” Charlie dropped his formal and solemn demeanor. “The short version is that we all got drunk and gambled for over a week while we should’ve been doing everything we could to keep the printshop working and at the same time tearing apart the Assembly to figure out just what kind of mess we had to deal with because boy is it a big one!”

Charlie paused and took a breath while each of the department heads looked nervously at each other. Their faces seemed as though they all wanted to ask the same question. “Is the damage irreparable?” Charlie chose to address this next.

“The damage isn’t minor, but it’s not overwhelming. So you can all stop worrying about just how long we’re going to be here. I need all of you to keep preparing to get the ship back in the air.”

This answer produced a more positive response. Many relaxed and gradually sank back into their seats. Some even smiled with relief. As Charlie looked across the room a hoof belonging to a pegasus stallion shot up.

“What’s up Head?”

The brown-colored pegasus stood to address the room.

“With respect,” he started with the usual flair of a well-bred career officer. “I’d like to know, just how long do you think that we’ll be sitting here?”

Head, or more accurately “Headwind,” had been the Amerigo’s “Overwatch” for nearly as long as the ship had been in the air. The position he executed so faithfully was basically Chief-of-Security by any other name. Charlie and Turner had been opposed to calling is so; on account of how militant it sounded. They’d already taken special care to avoid including any significant offensive capabilities within the airship’s makeup or mission, but Headwind and his various pegasus and griffon allies had argued, quite effectively, that it was folly not to at least have those whose job it was to plan for the worst.

Now, there he sat taking up one-and-a-half spots at the table with the extra girth of his well-worn battle armor. He wasn’t alone as most of his overwatch colleagues, griffon and pegasus alike, were prone to wearing their old battle dress. One had to admit that they did look like they knew their function inside and out. Yet, some cynics among the ship’s crew continued to assert that they were simply too worn-out, or perhaps worn-in, to function in any other way. How else, they argued, did you explain the fact that the Peak War veterans were the first of the pegasi and griffons to agree to work together. After all, when you’ve been given the cold shoulder and shunned by those you thought were your friends you might gain a whole new appreciation for your so-called enemies.

“This is bad form to remain parked here for so long when we’re so close to…” he turned to his deputy, a female griffon named Ellipse, for support. “What is it now? Federation territory?”

“Confederate territory” she corrected.

Headwind rolled his eyes and grimaced betraying some wry amusement at the statement.

“There was a time when it was a good deal simpler, but my point is this. The aerial scouting teams I sent out have confirmed that the weather cluster that’s been dumping all of this fog on us is going to be clearing by high noon tomorrow, and despite our best efforts we can't enhance it any further. We’ll be exposed if there are any confederate scouts or hunting parties that are active here, or maybe even Dale pegasi on the far side picking their way through the briar-patch.” By this he meant the old thorn barrier.

The room’s occupants stirred with mixed responses that ranged from apathy, fear, or annoyance.
“In this area of the chain, I’d be more worried about the former” Charlie replied. “But I don’t think everyone here shares your particular concern. Am I correct in assuming that you’re all worried about how this is going to affect our profits this this cycle?”

Most of those present nodded.

“Well... it is going to have a negative effect. I don’t think we’re going to make our southern-seaboard quota.”

There were a series of groans that rippled throughout the assembly, but Charlie wasn’t finished.

“In fact, Crack, Kearn, and after he gets well, Turner, and I have been discussing the possibility of suspending the current mapping project for the rest of the current semester.”

As he’d expected, the room fell silent with astonishment. It was apparent that no one even knew what to think. They stared at their Captain and then at each other. Eventually, a yellow hoof at the far end of the table lifted up just high enough to be seen.

“Yes. What is it Penny?” Crack answered this time.

The hoof’s owner stood. Even though the mare was standing at her full height it was tough to see her full face on account of just how small she was. One might’ve mistaken her for a filly, but the yellow-colored earth mare was actually the head of the ship’s Computer Corps. A position that she’d executed for close to three years after Turner had reorganized his department into the two subdivisions of Navigation Corps and Computation or “Computer,” Corps.

“Why are we abandoning the most lucrative contract that we’ve had in the last two years? I’m sure that we could finish on-time even though we’ve lost almost two weeks. I thought the deadline was flexible.”

“All true” Charlie nodded. “The reason is that there’s something else that we need to discuss that concerns this ship’s true purpose. In fact, what concerns me doesn’t really relate to the Amerigo or its crew directly. You see, the little accident that we had the other week wasn’t so little, and it didn’t start within the Harmonic Assembly itself.”

Penny’s look of confusion was mirrored in the faces of everyone else. Charlie looked to his side to see Kearn in the process of getting to his hooves.

“I think that’s my cue” he said, working his way to the head of the table where he took his place between Charlie and Crack.

“The Skipper is being delicate because he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings, but suffice to say, everything that he did say is accurate. The Harmonic Assembly is in shambles. If we hadn’t landed and stopped it rotating as quickly as we did then it might’ve destroyed itself, and we wouldn’t be taking off again.”

Understandably, Kearn’s directness was met with worried looks.

“Now, that being said. It can and will be repaired in a day-and-a-half. Does that satisfy everyone’s curiosity?”

Most were once again relieved at such good news. Charlie turned the Kearn with a question of his own.

“Now that you've finished your inspection, what exactly is the extent of the damage?”

“It won't be fully clear until I finish disassembly, but don’t let that change the estimate. We will be done when I say we will. Let me stress that, but if your asking what happened inside then I’d guess it was something like this. Element Primary inserted itself down into the trunk on its own. I might add that it did so with enough force to dent the bottom of the presser plate. The other elements weren’t moved sympathetically, and the push-back was so great that their branches were forced outward with such violence that it completely stripped their gears. They overextended so far that their tips started grating on the sides of the containment vessel. That’s what created all of the dust. Imagine a diamond versus a piece of glass. The harder one wins.”

Everyone, including Charlie, considered what Kearn had just said. Penny raised her hoof again.

“Why did it happen?” She asked.

“Doing the math as usual I see” Kearn responded. “Turner also did it, and I have to say that what he came up with was nearly impossible. You see it’s-”

Kearn was skilled at speaking when he knew he had an audience, but could be thought of as a rolling-stone when he got into his groove. Charlie put out his hand to interrupt the zebra.

“I think it’s time for me to take back the limelight.”

Charlie wondered how they would react to the revelation he was about to make. Would they laugh it off as absurd? Would they accept and dutifully jump back to their old way of life; the one only abandoned some four years ago? “No” he finally decided. It was more likely that there would be mixed reactions of enthusiasm for breaking up their normal routine, but at the same time annoyance at upsetting the somewhat comfortable lifestyle they’d grown accustomed to.

“Well” the Captain cleared his throat. “There’s no easy way to say this, but we think it was net or tether-effect that caused it. Element Primary, and I think Element Amber since it was the most obviously problematic, got themselves hooked on something outside the ship and when we broke free the snapback effect gave a terrific shock to the assembly. Turner thinks we’re lucky and only got hit with the short end.”

“The short end of what?” asked Headwind.

“If we knew that then we wouldn’t have called this meeting” quipped Kearn.

Charlie rolled his eyes and continued.

“There was a spell of some sort in our path. Every time we passed it there was a reaction. Could we have realized it before it was too late? Maybe, but the way Turner described it was quite apt. It was like snapping a taut string or wire. The long end has the potential to do more damage than the short one.”

“Then… what happened to this long one” Headwind asked again.

“Here goes” thought Charlie as he took a deep breath.

“We’re not quite sure. We’ve got some numbers that Penny’s team will need to clean up for us, but what we are certain of is that it struck in this grid here.” Charlie pointed at a projection chart he’d spread out on the table in front of them.

Projections were estimations of the probable shape of the terrain. They were drawn ahead of time to plan the survey routes, but couldn’t be counted on as accurate.

“We feel that we should investigate.”

“Why should this disrupt our mapping schedule?” Penny asked. “This area is still part of our recently accepted operating envelope. Just give us some time and we’ll adjust the survey plan to coincide” she offered.

“We need to land” Crack said bluntly.

A chorus of apprehensive murmurs erupted.

“Land…?” Penny repeated with a mortified expression.

“Land!?” Headwind barked. “Land there?! Are you out of your mind?!”

He stood to address the entire room.

“Not only is that sovereign Skyfire territory under Stone Nation’s watch, but it’s probably filled with feral dragons!”

“Don’t forget the hunting packs” added Ellipse. “Where there are feral dragons there will be hunters. It’s inevitable.”

“Yes, thank you” the fiery stallion nodded before launching back into his rant. “From what my griffon colleagues tell me, they’ll have completed the dragon hunts or will be in the process of completing them. Yet, even after the hunts are over the remaining dragons don’t calm down for weeks, and if there are still active packs we could be spotted by scouts! It’s difficult enough ensuring our anonymity as it is, but we all know that the shroud can’t be used when we’re landed unless it’s the dead of winter!” He paused for a breath before continuing. “Any way you slice it, a foot search for…. what are you asking us to search for anyways? It had better be of paramount importance if your asking that we risk being sighted or worse.”

“It’s important” Crack replied. “I’ve no desire to put us in danger. No one does, but please let us explain. We’re all here because we must have unity of thought and action.”

The room fell silent again as Crack and Charlie took turns explaining the reasons behind their motivations for the risky mission. Crack explained the fears over what a thorn infestation could mean, and Charlie presented the more hopeful, though improbable, possibility of the opportunity that could await them if indeed they might reclaim the rumored Flint Nation legacy.

After they were through, the room once again dissolved into a multitude of voices each discussing one side or the other. None present had outright expressed disapproval. In fact many, though apprehensive about it, seemed as though they might almost agree. Most of the griffons agreed with Crack about protecting the lands of their kin. While most equines were amiable towards the possibility of gaining the ability to remove the ancient blight of the thorns from the sky once and for all. Still others sat back with stone -faced expressions hiding their true feelings.

Charlie allowed nearly a quarter of an hour to pass before once again calling for their attention.

“As Crack said, we need unity on this. I won’t take this risk if any of you aren’t prepared to give your all. So we’re going to vote on it, and I need it to be unan-”

“Before that, I think we need you to promise something to us, or rather, to the newest members of the Amerigo’s family” Headwind stood and interrupted Charlie in mid-sentence. Ellipse stood with him in support.

“What would that be?” inquired Charlie.

“You need to fully initiate the rest of the greeners” Ellipse said.

Charlie was silent for a moment in surprise at the boldness of their request. It wasn’t as though he didn’t understand what they were suggesting. He even agreed with their likely reasons. He was however, quite surprised by the force with which the request had been delivered. It almost sounded like an ultimatum. “I set myself up for this one” he thought.

“Second” Kearn added unexpectedly.

Kearn hardly ever took sides on such matters. This was almost unprecedented. Others nodded to show their support. Charlie looked to his left to see Crack nodding as well.

“It only makes sense doesn’t it?” his first officer said. “They’ll be taking part in the risks. So let’s show our confidence in them.”

Charlie nodded finally.

“Alright. I agree. I’ll call for their final interview after we’re back underway. We’ll have a little time en-route to do it the right way. But for now…” Charlie stood tall as he addressed the room once again as the Captain of the Amerigo. “Hooves and talons on the table!” he ordered.

Even those who hadn't been unable to sit during the meeting pressed in as close as they could, placing their right front appendages on the table in front of them. Without Charlie even asking, someone began to pound the table. Others soon joined in. Some were quick to join. Others seemed more hesitant, but they too were soon striking the table in unison with everyone else. As more joined, the tempo quickened. Charlie had once wondered whether this was really a fair means of casting a vote. The rhythm was almost hypnotic, and the more one listened to it the more that it seemed to produce a compulsion to join in.

Now the vote was in full swing. The cadence rippled throughout the room as though they were inside of a large drum. They had it! A unanimous vote! Charlie smiled as he leaned in as far towards the center of the table as he could reach. He brought his fist down as hard as he could with the others as the crescendo reached its peak. The pounding abruptly ceased. All eyes were now on their captain awaiting his order, and he stared back at his crew resolutely as he gave them one.

“We’re going!”

Chapter 4: Different Paths

******Here and There******

The low clouds began to thicken and then to obscured the ground below. Crack looked ahead as he glided through a slightly warmer air current; one that only required him to flap his wings once every few seconds. He could see the gray tip of a mountain as it was just peeking above. “Was that the correct one?” Crack thought to himself. The irony was that the Amerigo hadn’t managed to even start the scouting work in this area based on his decision to plan the survey starting point in the eastern grids.

He strained to remember just how the peak had looked when he’d last laid eyes on it some eight years prior, but he found that the memories from that time in his life were so dim. That could be a blessing, but at times like these it could also be a curse. Eight years might as well have been eighty.

“Let me see” he muttered. “Above the clouds and silver gray in the morning when the light-” he stopped abruptly as he realized that “the light” would be coming from the wrong direction at this time of day.

He sighed in frustration and glanced at the small projective chart he’d been relying on periodically. It was a small comfort having what was at least the beginnings of a map. From this he could know where he was supposed to be going and what direction it was in. Yet now, he was finding that solo navigation was a good deal harder than he remembered. He and his old comrades used to be able to do it without the aides he’d become accustomed to over the past few years. His human comrade’s tools such as the sextant or the process of dead-reckoning made life easier, but as he was now finding, could make it a good deal more frustrating when robbed of them.

He smiled in spite of the inconveniences, though. It was good, liberating in fact, to be traveling by wing once again. The furthest he routinely flew would be from stem to stern of the Amerigo. Those flights were just his inspections; twice every week or after storms. Nothing could compare to the satisfaction of a day in the skies and not being that sure of just how far you could get in a day. It was always the best when he’d been surprised at just how far he could travel if the conditions were right.

Distance flying was, on the whole, an art that was largely misunderstood. You had to understand how air currents could be used as an advantage and not something to be fought. Fighting them used up one’s strength and limited how high you might go on account of the thin air at higher altitudes. The solution was simple. Just let the air fly for you. All that had to be done was to stay inside the current. Though, this was a difficult thing to do if your intuitions hadn’t been honed properly.

Five years in the sky after his post-nuptial quest had trained him quite well when it came to prolonged flight. If conditions were right, and today was no exception, he remembered it having been possible to make it as far as Facet, the one-time High-Clan capitol, with some official message carefully tucked away inside his knapsack or within his own eidetic memory. Sky-carriers, as he’d once been, were unique warriors indeed. Though not line-officers, and thus not expected to participate in combat, they were still expected to either kill or be killed for what they might be carrying to and from the fight. Their itinerancy forced them to spent a great deal of time, far too much according to some, away from their homes and loved ones. Friendships would sometimes not survive, and Crack had seen far too many colleagues who would return to their dens only to find they no longer knew their children, or worse, their husband or wife.

The loss of his own wife, though painful to learn of, had almost been merciful when he realized that he would always remember his White Cap as she’d been. Her death in the Peak War was not without honor. Her notoriety had even produced clout that he could have drawn on. However, upon arriving at camp to perform rituals he’d realized that the griffoness he’d been so pleased to marry had become someone altogether different. Her comrades had been eager to praise her and tell story after story of White Cap’s heroism and tenacity, but as each account was relayed to him he knew that they had begun to drift; just like the tide-barges they’d been raised on. At least, he remembered thinking, he hadn’t been there to see it, but if he had been there it likely wouldn’t have happened at all.

He’d once had the option of changing his capacity of service from messaging to watching over the supply convoys. Any army in the field had to rely on a substantial apparatus of support that was sequestered behind the lines. Though, there were still instances where caravans and convoys were vulnerable to the enemy or less than honorable fellow griffons. Crack had carried regular dispatch orders to supply barons and their deputies; both griffons and zebras. A few had tried to recruit him. They seemed to believe that his skills and loyalty in protecting information might have translated well to protecting their assets. One zebra road baron had even gone so far as to pay him just to accompany a caravan or two on their weekly supply runs. He’d obliged, for the money, but when he’d compared the sky to the ground the sky had won. Yet, was he the one who had actually lost eventually?

Now, he found himself trying to reach the starting point of that caravan he’d once set out with. Though the caravan had of course stayed on the ground, he and his fellow watches had periodically taken position in the air so as to reconnoiter the terrain and sky ahead. Though he could remember the characteristics of the terrain from back then, it had been the dead of winter at the time. Add to that the heavy traffic both toward the front and back, and this made it easy to spot roads simply by contrasting the well-traveled strips of land with the pure white of the fresh snow. Stone Capitol was by default the place where all of the dark lines had converged on. Even now Stone Nation was still remembered as purveyors of light, warmth, and security for travelers.

Crack shook his head and stuffed the chart back into his map pocket. It was pointless to continue thinking about how things had looked in the past. At the moment those memories wouldn’t serve him at all. Not only was there no way of seeing the ground through the clouds, but he was approaching the mountains from a different direction and at a different time of day! It wasn’t as though he could just try to look for the characteristic light of the visitor’s district through the clouds now either. The patronage of the various inns and suppliers had likely diminished since the war’s end, and the once bright row of taverns, mead halls, and supply depots just above the stock yards were likely shuttered due to significantly-reduced patronage. Thus, no “guiding light” as some songs had mentioned. There was still one way to be sure. If the peak he could see ahead was indeed the Mountain of Being as he suspected, then just above the western foothills there would be the Rapier Gorge. That would be the proof he needed. If he was wrong though, it wouldn’t be worth sapping the rest of his strength to work his way back up to his current altitude. He would lose the rest of the day, and time was vital for the successful completion of his errand.

After several more minutes of weighing his options, Crack decided that it was worth it. He checked the straps on his knapsack and tightened the drawstrings on his hauberk and hood. Now came the fun part. He leaned forward to shift his weight and tucked in his wings. In relative silence, he dropped like a stone. The air rushing past was all he could hear. He relished in the freedom he had, for at least a moment, to absolve himself of having to concentrate to stay aloft. He smiled as the cloud bank below him grew closer with each passing second. Preparing for contact, he extended his body and focused himself to a single point; just like a steel dart. The clouds fought back. They seemed especially viscous and thick that day, but they were no match for Crack’s accrued momentum. They passed by him with the unique sensation that only the clouds of this country could deliver.

Almost as quickly as they had started the clouds began to thin to reveal the forest canopy below and a few trailing vestiges of solitary cumulus concentrations. Crack scrutinized his target altitude and opened his wings to begin slowing his descent. As he began to flap and push the air he could feel how heavy it was. He frowned. That was unusual for this time of year. Perhaps there was a weather system rolling in, but any serious summer storm would be out of the question. Summer ended early here anyways. He was nearing the last of the cumulus clouds now. He dodged these to avoid breaking his freefall. “This is good enough” he thought to himself as he eased up and leveled out. He could see the bottom half of the mountain he’d spotted while still above. It was the right shape at least. He didn’t remember the foothills being so filled with vegetation, though. He decided to make a crescent arc around the mountain and try to orient himself.

He was preparing to shift course when he spotted a silhouette in his periphery. He craned his neck to see a griffon making their way towards him at a leisurely speed. Crack held his course and waved to the new arrival. Whoever they were returned the gesture. “Friendly enough” he thought. “Perhaps they’ll be able to tell me just where on-earth I am.” He hastily rehearsed his story while waiting till he was sure the other was in earshot.

“Hello friend!” He shouted, his accent as disguised as he could make it. “That is to say… I hope that you’re no enemy of mine.”

“Is there any reason I should be your enemy, Tree Nation?” came her unexpected response.

Tree Nation?! Crack as taken aback. He could have sworn he was doing a flawless Ice Nation accent. He’d listened to Ellipse far too long to get it wrong. Maybe it was because of gender? She was the only Ice Nation conversational exemplar he had access to, and certain dens did have radically different speech patterns between males and females. He didn’t have time to puzzle over it, though. The approaching griffoness, as he could now make her out to be, was still getting closer, and she was undoubtedly expecting his answer. He hastily decided not to acknowledge his den; real or false.

“There are some who deserve enemies and others who deserve them not, but either may not always have what they deserve.”

“Bald’s Maxims” she snorted sarcastically as she maneuvered alongside him. “When I was a cub there was maestro who insisted that I and all of my peers memorize that book from one end to the other.”

“You have my sympathies” Crack replied with a wry grin. “I had a mother and father who required the same from me. May I assume then, from both your accent and academic history, that I’ve reached Stone Nation territory?”

“You have, and I see now that you’re not Tree Nation either. It was tough to catch your voice in the wind. Ice Nation?”

Crack nodded to her in both acknowledgement and relief. It was good he’d kept his mouth shut after all. He was also pleased that he’d at least reached the general area he’d hoped for.

“I’m trying to reach Stone Capitol before dark. Is that possible from here?”

“Very possible” she replied. “It’s only several moments away from this position.” As she spoke she pointed to the mountain that Crack had suspected was his destination. “Come with me” she motioned to him. “I’ll guide you in.”

Crack nodded, rather grateful for the offer. Yet, why had the demeanor of this lookout, he was certain now that’s what she was, changed so quickly from cold and questioning to friendly? He turned to follow her as she adjusted her heading slightly.

“Why, if I may ask, does a lone traveler warrant a personal reception? Let alone one that began so curtly?”

When he was met with silence he turned to face her. She seemed to be considering his question for a moment, wondering whether or not she should answer, but she eventually did.

“I was asked to look out for someone.”

“A fugitive?”

“Not necessarily. I suppose you might call her a person of interest.”

“I see.”

He was about to ask for further details, but she continued.

“But what about you Ice Nation?”

“Me?”

“May I have your name and business please? It would help expedite your entry into the city if I were to help log you in.”

“Log me in? What does that mean?”

“It’s nothing of consequence” she waved her talon dismissively. “You’re expected to declare yourself, your purpose, and your goods.

Crack simply stared back at her making no effort to hide his confusion.

“It’s for taxation” she added.

“I’m going to be taxed for just being there?”

“Of course not! You’ll only be taxed when you depart, on any profits you’ve made during your stay. That includes gambling.”

“Any rationale behind this enlightened policy, besides robbing me blind?”

“I’ve little knowledge when it comes to alignment policy, but the results have been good for us. We’re not the only ones who have these tariffs. All nations in the confederacy have adopted them.”

Crack scowled. This was news to him. He’d known there would be surprises, but this certainly wasn’t expected. He decided to keep his beak shut for the rest of the way as he wondered what other changes had occurred. Moments later he received some answers. Just over the next rise Rapier Gorge came into view as the land dipped again, and above the foothills of the mountain he could see his destination. From his current altitude Stone Capitol truly looked alien now, and not just because it was no longer beneath a layer of snow.

As he’d expected, the stock yards, once a hub of activity and piled high with supplies, were empty. The hastily-cleared and graded land had been left to nature and was sprouting various small shrubs and a covering of brown grass. The protective stockades and sentry perches that hadn’t been dismantled sagged under their own weight as though they were waiting for an excuse to collapse. All but a few were this way. The others had been apparently converted to carving fields for large prey. The center of these now bore the coat of arms that belonged to the various hunting packs that occupied them. Crack’s attention was drawn to one in particular. Though faded, it was apparent from the ruddy-brown stain of blood that the field had been used as recently as two weeks ago. Dragon blood was the only bodily fluid he could think of that endured so long when exposed to the elements. According to his friend Copper Lance, this was on account of its high mineral content.

“You seem interested in the carving fields” his escort commented. “Are you versed in dragon lore?”

“So that is dragon blood” he thought to himself. He almost swore out loud. This didn’t bode well for the success of his mission. If there had been a recent hunt then that would mean any remaining dragon broods would be very agitated for a time thereafter. He’d need to investigate this further.

“Not particularly” he replied. “I did used to have some hunting pack alumni in my family, though. My grandmother had a phial of dragon’s blood that she’d kept with her from her first kill as a pack alpha.”
“Is that so?” she replied with sudden interest. “Only the best ever become an alpha. What was her pack’s name?”

Crack winced. Looking away, he hoped she hadn’t seen that. He had to think fast. It was a mistake to mention something that was in this case true! How could he explain a Shore-Nation hunting pack in the context of an Ice-Nation one? It’s not as though he’d gotten much out of his grandmother’s stories; even when she could remember them. Wait! That was it.

“Well… to be honest…” he began.

Honest! that was a laugh. Though right now, he was being truthful. In a way.

“The truth is that I don’t know that much about her early years. The poor old griffoness had started going senile the year I was born. The only assurances I ever got about her time as a huntress was the fact that my grandfather wouldn’t argue with her when he could remember it too.”

She seemed a bit disappointed but didn’t carry the conversation further as her attention shifted to directly ahead. Crack turned to face the same direction once again and could now see just how close they were to the city. They banked low along the old perimeter road parallel to the Rapier Gorge. He could see that the Sutler’s Row, once a lively merchant district, stood mostly open and unused. Many of the stalls were in a similar state of decay as the old stock yards.

“The loose patch of dirt right up ahead of us” his escort said.

“I see it” he nodded.

The two of them aimed at the cross painted into the dirt with colored chalk. They alighted on the softened ground seconds later. There was of course little point to this exercise beyond demonstrating proper manners. Anyone could easily land in the center of the Den, but old customs mandated declaring one’s presence. From there the Den could decide whether or not to allow the visitor to shelter with them. Crack was surprised that some clans and nations still observed the custom. Most settlements that saw copious amounts of travelers tended to simply wave them through with nothing more than a cursory glance after they would set down on the threshold.

“The mountain soil it a bit clingy here” he remarked to his escort while trying unsuccessfully to shake the dirt from his paws and talons.

“This isn’t Deep Harbor” she snorted; pointing him towards a mat of crushed pebbles.

She was correct about that. In Deep Harbor no one would’ve cared that a stranger had come to town. If Stone Capitol were at all like his on-time home it would’ve been far easier to remain anonymous. Just another face in the hundreds and hundreds that came and went every day. Even when there was a formal reception for a dignitary or a family homecoming the threshold would be made up of carefully dried and sifted white beach sand; something that didn’t cling like this!

The two finished scraping their themselves clean, and Crack was about to turn towards the gate up ahead when his griffoness escort stepped in front of him.

“You’ll need to tell me your name now.”

“Oh yes, of course. It’s Burst. I’m here as a proxy.”

Crack was pleased with himself. That was true, in a sense. He, technically, had been named for his grandfather, Thunderhead, and he was there as a proxy, of sorts. Though, his words would invariably give a false impression to his soon-to-be Stone Nation hosts. His hostess, though, seemed almost disappointed at this.

“Is something wrong?” he inquired. “Would you rather I’d said that I was a foreign agent?”

“I’m sorry” she sighed as the two started towards the trade entrance. “It’s just rather mundane. I haven’t met any foreigners for quite a stretch, and I guess in that time you can start thinking of other clans and nations as rather more exotic than they are. I’m guessing that you’re Ice Nation Skyfire?”

Crack nodded matter-of-factly. He was doing well at maintaining his guise, but he hadn’t intended to tell so many untruths. Why was she so talkative? Was this a sort of soft-interrogation technique? He would’ve continued his musings, but was interrupted.

“Be declared, traveler” a new voice interrupted; almost belting out the words as though they were the verse of a song just out of the singer’s vocal range.

Crack looked ahead to see that they’d reached the checkpoint. A young griffon, clad in armor that probably didn’t even belong to him, was standing in his path. Crack simply stared back at him in surprise. Who could justify putting such a young griffon on watch duty? Even if he was a customs apprentice, someone his age would be relegated to tidying up the barracks or caring for the weapons and armor. Crack must’ve stared a bit too long, as the whelp seemed to be summoning his breath again. He probably would’ve unleashed another pup’s bark of demands or perhaps an attempt at verbal abuse to add a bit to his stature but was silenced before he got the chance.

“Who told you to receive visitors?” came a voice from inside of the adjacent guard’s shelter. This one was a good deal older.

Crack looked to see a griffoness, this one in well-kept and well-fitting armor, striding towards them. The younger one seemed to shrink into his armor as though he were a tortoise retreating into his shell.

“I told you that you could keep the log and notify us of an approach! Now get back to your perch and stay there!”

The would-be customs officer retreated, dragging his tail.

“Is this… the norm?” Crack asked.

“Definitely not!” the griffoness who’d accompanied him snorted indignantly. Though, Crack could tell she was somewhat amused at seeing the younger one smacked down a notch. Her satisfaction was short-lived.

“And you! What are you doing here!” the older griffoness pointed her talon at Crack’s escort. “You know the conditions you’re under right now. Get back into the field!”

The younger griffoness sighed and turned away. “Yes. Yes” she said dismissively. “’Probationary’.”

“That’s correct! You’re supposed to be demonstrating your vigilance before I can afford to have you back here, Silver.”

“Like there’s any real point to all of this” the younger one grumbled as she took to the sky again.

The guard captain looked at her subordinate fly away and shook her head in mild annoyance.

“I won’t pretend to know anything about the local residents, but you shouldn’t be so hard on that one” Crack broke the silence. “She was keen enough to meet me halfway.”

The captain seemed taken aback by Crack’s comment. Realizing that she was in the presence of a foreign traveler, she turned towards him flustered, with some evident indignation. Her attempt at recovery of the situation was futile, though. Crack was already analyzing and noting any possible implications of the scene he’d just witnessed. It was clear that this was abnormal. What did it mean, though?

“You’ve reached Stone Capitol, traveler. Where do you travel from?”

“From north, on the Red Wind.”

“I’d never heard of an Ice-Nation wind-rider before.”

“You’re quite correct in your assumption. I acquired that skill elsewhere. It’s greatly assisted my profession.”

“Which is?”

“Representation.”

Crack had begun to wonder if it had been wise to pair Ice Nation and business with each other. It would be believable in a place like Deep Harbor, but here in Stone Capitol, the vast majority of griffons had only ever met soldiers of Ice Nation as they passed through to the front; many never to return.

Crack tried to keep his poise and expression neutral as the officer scrutinized him.

“So… you’re a proxy?”

“Correct.”

“Whom do you represent?”

“I represent many, but none at the moment.”

She scowled back at him in puzzlement. She was obviously sizing him up.

“Remove your hood” she said tersely.

“My hood? Why?”

“You seem to be unaware of how this works. If you want to be let in, then you do as I say! Now remove your hood! I want a good look at you!”

Crack complied and gently tugged the flax flight-hood off of his head. His care seemed to amuse the customs officer who shook her head and rolled her eyes. After several moments she nodded her head at him in approval.”

“You’ve been preened recently. I’ve never known an Ice-Nation member to pay such strict attention to their appearance. I suppose it helps you in your trade, though.”

Crack relaxed. She seemed to be buying his cover. Though, he hadn’t counted on anyone connecting his well-ordered crest to fit into it so nicely. He re-donned his hood. Still taking special care to not disturb any of the array of small threads carefully concealed beneath his feathers. The apparatus he had been fitted with was one of the more creative inventions that Summer Soft, the Amerigo’s devoted chief stewardess, had dreamed up. The mesh she’d carefully woven into at least one-hundred of his larger feathers just before he’d departed, had the function of altering the shape of his crest and thus changing his ethnic appearance somewhat. It had been a tedious affair placing each one individually and then positioning them afterward, but the result had been worth it. He indeed could pass for Ice-Nation, on some levels at least.

“If you’re a proxy… does that also mean you’re also a barrister?” the griffoness asked quite unexpectedly. Crack hadn’t expected her to make that connection.

“What makes you think that?” he inquired.

“You’re too well kept to simply be a common trade proxy. So I deduce you’ve been trained at court by a scholar. ‘Yes’ or ‘no’ please” she added impatiently.

“I learned my law from books. It helps to understand the judicial framework of where I may be when I represent. But again, why is this important?”

“You tell me you’re a proxy, but you claim you don’t currently represent anyone here. Therefore I deduce you’re looking for work.” Next, she leaned in close and almost whispered. “I… I may have some for you. Are you interested?”

“You’re… in need of council?”

“Of sorts.”

Crack thought for a moment. His gut screamed for him to refuse any possible entanglements that might delay his mission, or worse, place him under greater scrutiny. Then again, could her reason for allowing him entry stem from a need for what she hoped he could provide? If so, refusal might cost him. Yet, it might be something rather simple.

“I’ve… advised before, but only for trade negotiations” he replied cautiously; trying to sound as non-committal as he could, and to hopefully make her less eager to depend on any service he could provide. “What do you require?”

They both turned at the sound of someone approaching. It was only a passer-by, but the customs officer immediately stood erect as if now remembering where she was.”

“You’ll likely need to rent a bed” she said rather loudly and briskly. “There’s a caravan corral in the merchant’s bailey. Across from that is a traveler’s inn. While, as you would expect, they do serve meals, I’d advise against it. There’s a mead hall with a much better reputation near the Diet’s ampetheatre. You can’t miss it.” She lowered her voice. “I’d like it if I could see you there tonight, or the next night.”

Crack nodded and they both turned away from each other. It hadn’t exactly gone as expected. So much for slipping in and out! This deep level of investigation was uncommon, even when he’d been here before, in wartime no less. There did remain the possibility this was his own fault. Perhaps he’d provoked it by calling attention to the obvious irregularities of the checkpoint. He was certain from her appearance and demeanor that this griffoness was none other than the watch’s head-mistress. If that was the case, she may have taken his remarks as negative commentary on how her post was run. But, honestly! The way they’d presented themselves was disgraceful! This may happen to be peacetime, but there was no excuse for allowing internal politics to show though! Something truly disturbing must’ve happened to put them all off their game. He’d have to remember to probe for information later. Perhaps if, no, “when” he saw her again.

He made his way towards the merchant’s bailey to find the contact he’d come to see. Yet, as he recounted his interchange with the griffons he’d just met, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was simmering just underneath the surface. Something that he suspected he might regret ever getting involved with.

******At the Edge of Etiquette******

Kearn stared intently. Concentration was key at this point; not only from him but from his engineers as well. They all looked up above the top of the Assembly, where hung a narrow cylindrical catwalk. There was just barely enough clearance between it and the domed shape of the overhead for a stallion of a griffon to stand upright. Yet now, no less than six of the Amerigo’s strongest stallions marched around it in a circle, all hitched to a carousel. As they moved the great and heavy machines throughout the platform began to as well. The Amerigo was beginning to stir from its enforced slumber, but it wasn’t awake yet. The engineer looked at his captain, who stood beside him, to ask for permission. Charlie just nodded back and cleared his throat.

“Commence primary ignition!” he shouted.

Kearn had often thought of asking why his human friend always used that phrase. They weren’t actually igniting anything. Though, the question was always lost in the flurry of activity that followed.

“All pushers report harmony!” Kearn shouted so that each of the six pusher system operators could hear.

Each secondary element’s operator reported back in succession as the order moved circuitously from Kearn, around the Platform and then back before finally being completed and summed by Scotch at the primary station.

Now came the part the engineer had been both dreading and anticipating. It was time to restart the Harmonic Assembly. While proud of his ingenuity in solving the problem, he, and he was certain others, felt uneasy about just what was going to happen. Would the replacement pieces hold up under the stress? Or was that the least of their worries? Maybe their deductions about the cause of the accident were just all baseless and wrong, and they hadn’t addressed the real cause of the issue. Who was to say that it couldn’t happen again?

While all five of the secondary elements moved in circular orbits around the trunk, held in place by their branches, Element-Primary moved linearly, up and down, within the trunk itself. The trunk-shaft was the piece which the element was attached to. Unlike Element Primary, the Secondaries had no physical contact with their pushers; the concentric rings that the team had just finished reassembling a short while ago. Conversely, the trunk-shaft was physically connected to its element, and it also represented the only physical penetration of the containment-sphere. It poked out of the top in the center of the lead-screw; an enormous worm-gear that engaged the port and starboard transmission shafts.

It was this component that had suffered the most damage in the events of the previous week. The solid-brass rod had slammed down into the Assembly so hard it had developed a bow; one that was so bad that Charlie had been forced to cut it into pieces with a metal-file to remove it from the trunk that way. Normally, Kearn would simply have directed his machinewrights to produce a new one within the Amerigo’s machine-forge workshop, but in a twist of irony the special tools needed couldn’t be used to produce an equivalent replacement unless the Harmonic Assembly was in a usable state. The Amerigo’s transmission shafts had to be driven by the Assembly to supply the necessary mechanical force to make the lathes turn with the strength to cut metal and thus forge a new trunk-shaft. The solution he’d come up with was to make a replacement from oak-wood. Using a treadmill driven by several earth stallions, they had managed to turn out a piece that matched the original. At least, according to its physical dimensions.

As the Zebra and his human friend surveyed their completed work, they were both acutely aware of the dangers of catastrophic failure that they’d opened themselves up to. Not only would a repeat of the same event as had damaged the last trunk-shaft condemn the ship and its crew to an uncertain fate, but it was impossible to tell just how a wooden part would handle over time. Would it crack? Splinter? Or perhaps wear away from friction? This, and other questions, were unanswerable at this time, and that was at least mildly-concerning.

“Engaged. Harmony is six-by-zero” Scotch reported finally.

“Very good” Kearn nodded. “Primary: You may commence your pull. Secondaries: Track for standby. All others: Grab your ear trumpets and report any vibrations over a five.”

“How many clicks? Should we go five like usual?”

“No” Kearn answered after thinking for a few seconds. “Take it slowly. Two at a time.”

Scotch nodded and gingerly wound the setting wheel counting off two audible clicks before pulling the large charging lever. The response from the Assembly was immediate as he did so. There issued an echo of two loud clunks that could be felt underhoof. Seconds later the first telltale signs of activity from the assembly itself could be noticed. A loud clattering sound came from the interior of the sphere. The sound tended to make the less-experience engineers somewhat fearful. Kearn just waved his hoof reassuringly. Anyone who’d done this evolution more than once knew it was just the branches realigning themselves after having been previously stopped when not in parking-position.

Kearn looked at several of the engineers who had positioned themselves around the assembly. They each had a conical-shaped tool, known as an ear-trumpet, inserted into various pieces of now-moving machinery. The tools’ bell-shaped openings were resting against their ears as each of them listened intently to the sound of the machinery. One-by-one they looked back and nodded at their chief. Kearn nodded back, pleased that there were no unexpected sounds or vibrations to signal immediate mechanical trouble. Kearn nodded to Charlie and ordered Scotch to resume pulling his element.

Several clicks later a melodic and almost sublime hum issued from the Harmonic Assembly. Kearn carefully scrutinized the tambre of the sound and gazed at the sphere. The pusher-assembly’s rings were now rotating themselves as they kept their respective elements in-time with each other. A moment later, and right on time, the faintest glow could be observed emanating from the interior through the opaque crystal container. It began as a deep lavender, the same color as Element-Primary, but eventually cycled through the full range of the other elements. This signified that none of the elements had yet reached dominance over the others. Just the way it should be. Next, the entire sphere could be seen rising off of the cradle it had been held in place by. It was holding itself now and would remain that way as long as it was active. Kearn was beginning to relax. Several moments into the evolution and everything was going exactly as expected. Time to see if it could support itself now.

“The Assembly is freewheeling” reported Scotch as he tapped several of his gauges to ensure they weren’t drifting.

Kearn turned to see Charlie staring at the Amerigo’s power plant impassively. That was to say, “seemingly impassive.” He could see the small joints of the human’s digits were white, as they grasped the speech-pipe bell in his hand. The Zebra smiled to himself in quiet amusement. That was always one of Charlie’s tells. What a curse not to be born with a fur coat!

“Carousel!” Kearn said. “Disengage!”

The stallions that had been pulling the carousel stopped just as Kearn pulled a lever next to his desk to disengaged their harness linkage. The Assembly continued its gentle rotation as well as it’s placement in midair under it’s own power. The Assembly was most definitely “freewheeling” as they tended to call it.

A feeling of excitation tingled across every hair of every body throughout the Platform. Though some no doubt felt genuine exhilaration, it was actually a charge effect. Every hair on Kearn’s body was being tugged on gently by the Elements. They still weren’t sure what caused this. Charlie said something about “stationary-electricity,” since he’d received the occasional lightning bolt arcing into his body when he’d gotten to close, Kearn disagreed, at least partially. The zebra knew powerful magic when he saw, or rather felt it. He remained convinced that the electrical phenomenon was only the visible part of something far more powerful.

“All pushers report harmony!” Kearn repeated the order again.

Once again each of the secondary pusher stations reported one by one with Scotch, at the primary station, reporting last.

“Six-by-six!” the pegasus reported with a mixture of satisfaction and relief.

In fact, the relief throughout the Platform was so tangible one might’ve been able to reach out and touch it. Kearn and Charlie once again exchanged satisfied glances as they breathed freely again.

“Alright! What are we waiting for!” Charlie rubbed his hands together. “Let’s bring this place to life again!” He lifted the speech pipe’s face piece, or “jay,” to his ear and turned a crank while he waited for someone at the other end to respond to the electric noisemaker. Presently, they did.

“Control. Platform. Request the watch-chief on the jay” he said, taking care to enunciate clearly so he could be heard.

Kearn looked to his left to see Gow still cramming his tools into one of the storage lockers. He motioned for him to take the second jay-station.

“You can handle the engineering communiques while the Captain takes care of the command messages” he instructed.

His apprentice nodded and closed the speech-cock between the forward and aft system. Kearn sometimes wondered if the Jay-system, though simple, was more confusing than it needed to be. At its simplest it was only speaking, sometimes yelling, through a pipe. The etiquette that had to be employed in its use could be maddening. Not to mention the fact that it didn’t agree with everyone’s voice. When a griffon tried to use it the message could be nearly incomprehensible! He’d often asked Charlie what had happened to his electric or sound-powered jay system projects. Charlie would just grumble something to the effect of “It’ll get done when it’s done.”

Kearn’s ears perked up as Gow began speaking loudly too. He strained to separate out the two half-conversations being conducted but gave up. Moments later Charlie put down the jay and nodded to Kearn as he relayed the communique.

“Control and the forward watch stations report ready. All telegraphs have been zeroed and all tap-shafts disengaged. The secondary and tertiary section-chiefs are passing the word.”

Gow finished his own conversation seconds later.

“The dynamo plant and the primary alternator plant report ready also. All tap-shafts disengaged.”

“Charge!” Kearn informed them. “Everyone step back! Clear the transmission shafts!”

As he spoke Kearn scanned the overhead just to make sure that all of the crew had cleared. Despite the visual interference provided by the rotating Assembly and the Pushers, he could clearly see the large horizontally-mounted shafts that would soon animate the rest of the ship. Their function was a simple one, to deliver rotational force to whatever type of machinery within the Amerigo which required it; a large task. As a result they were some of the heartiest, and heaviest, components of the ship; made through a special process that was fully understood by only Charlie and himself.

Kearn tugged the red safety-catch lever with his teeth and stomped down on one of his hoof-pedals. The safety blocks that had been holding the shafts in their position fell away and crew’s ears were treated to an almost-painful grinding as the shafts’ gearhead cogs and the Assembly’s worm-like lead-screw clattered against each other, then meshed, then slipped again, and finally caught. The entire vessel shook as both shafts began rotating. The Assembly seemed to protest as it began to slow under the new loading. The pusher operators compensated and the familiar ship-wide vibrations began picking up.

Despite the Assemby’s prior struggle when shouldering the heavier load, the vessel in its entirety seemed to chug away happily now as each moving part stabilized and once again remember its role. The sound of a chime being struck told Kearn that the dynamo-plant had just engaged their tap-shaft. Moments later the Platform took on a different character as the control stations began to glitter with Charlie’s own brand of special magic. The “electricity,” as the human referred to it, coursed through the dozens and dozens of horn-made glass baubles that had been carefully mounted on wooden or steel backboards with the names or pictures of what they represented painted next to them. They were, in their own way, quite beautiful. The overhead emergency lights flickered and then came on strong, bathing their surroundings in a soft yellowish glow, and having left little time to admire the earlier rainbow-like beauty similar to a dragon’s hoard.

Throughout the ship there were distant whistles of applause and hoof-stamping as the crew rejoiced. Everyone nearby grinned as they looked around the platform, literally seeing it in a different light. Kearn watched the shafts intently as they rotated slowly. He could make out a minute swaying motion from both of them. He frowned in confusion for a moment, but soon realized that this must be due to having sat without attention for almost two weeks. He almost cursed for having neglected them. Without periodic re-positioning both shafts could bow slightly after sagging under their own weight.

“I see it too” Charlie said, staring up at the shafts with his arms crossed. “There’s no excuse. We’ll just have to wait and see if the deformation gets worked out.”

Kearn nodded in reply, but he was surprised at the blase attitude that Charlie was treating the situation. A cobbled-together vital component was bad enough, but to have another with a potential for further damage ought to weigh heavily on one’s mind. Kearn would’ve preferred that they waited a day to let the bow even out through constant rotation before putting a full load on them. Charlie seemed to have other plans.

“Well I think we should contact the switchboard and have them close the boiler switches” he suggested to his engineer. “We’ll finally get some heating steam and hot water. I for one am cold and damp, and we all need to see to of our own hygiene.”

“I’d rather not” Kearn protested. “I don’t want to run all that housekeeping machinery from dynamos only.”

The human frowned, and Kearn could tell that he’d been greatly anticipating running warm water and central heating. This evidenced by both the smell he emanated and the now clearly-visible grime on his bare skin. Kearn desperately wanted the usual amenities back too. It truly was almost frightening how accustomed to such things they’d all grown. Perhaps those things alone were what encouraged such loyalty among the crew. He decided to compromise.

“I’ll give you one boiler for now, and we can use it for the showers. I’d prefer to wait on the other things until we can bring on the alternator plant. Then we can be fully powered up.”

Charlie seemed understandably disappointed, but he eventually nodded, stroking his chin in thought. He seemed surprised at how his smooth bare skin felt since he next raised both hands to rub his cheeks.

“Time to shave?” asked Kearn.

“Yeah. Time to shave.”

“How long did you make it this time?”

“I think it’s been about two weeks.”

“Not bad, but have you considered just letting it grow instead of using those tonics to suppress your natural coat?”

“I’m not old enough for a beard” the human replied shaking his head and turning away to pick up some of the tools that were still left out.

Just how old was the human? Not even Crack or Turner knew that. In the nearly seven years he’d known Charlie he’d seen noticeable changes in his size, physique, voice, and his general demeanor. If these were the hallmarks of a human’s physical maturity, then that would make him the equivalent of a young stallion or “man” as he’d heard Charlie say on a few occasions. It seemed a bit odd, after growing up in his own gerontocratic society, that he would serve a captain so much younger than himself. He preferred to think of this as just another part of the friendship they held. Yet, at the end of the day Charlie was in charge.

Kearn suddenly felt his friend’s hand shaking him. He turned to see Charlie and realized that he’d been staring off into space.

“Sorry” kearn apologized. “I think I’m in need of some sleep.”

“I’m the same” Charlie agreed. “But I think we’ll all sleep better if the ship is warm and dry. Please make the alternators your top priority. I’d like some alternating-current soon. Otherwise, I think you’ve got things under control here so I’m going back to get a shower and a shave.”

At this, Charlie turned towards the lift at the far end. Kearn realized that his friend must be truly exhausted. The platform-lift, though almost a necessity for anyone with hooves, was something that Charlie seldom used except for when he was exceptionally worn out. He turned towards Scotch and motioned for him to continue on without him. He then turned to follow Charlie.

“I’m going to check on the dynamo plant and to supervise the alternator start-up. I’ll walk with you as far as the crossover.”

The lift lurched downward as the operator switched out the counterweight below. The two of them rode in silence for the majority of the trip before it deposited them a level below. The passageway, now bathed in artificial light, already felt much more lively as the vibration of the transmission shafts reverberated here and there throughout the Amerigo. It was enough to put some bounce in anyone’s step.

“So” Charlie broke the silence “what’s on your mind?”

“What makes you say that?”

“You and I both know that you could’ve sent Scotch or even Gow to go check on the electric plants. Is this about the… ‘unconventional’ fix we made back there? Because if it is then I have to tell you I’m concerned as well. So just-”

“It’s not. It’s about you.”

“Me? What did I do?”

The zebra took a deep breath. He wasn’t used to getting so deep, but with the frenzy of activity related to getting back underway seemingly had left no other opportunity except now.

“I’ve noticed some changes in you recently.”

“Changes?”

“Yes. I saw your demeanor change considerably while we were languishing on this plateau for the last little while. I wouldn’t have thought this was much more than simple boredom if I hadn’t seen this before. You were genuinely withdrawn.”

Kearn let his words sink in before continuing.

“The truth is that you need to get back underway. You need a constant distraction. What is it that’s hurting you that you don’t want to acknowledge, and why do you seem to believe that myself, Crack, or Turner couldn’t ease your mind? You do, or at least I should hope, have friends for a reason.”

Charlie was clearly stunned by his friend. His face betrayed both surprise and perhaps a hint on anger at Kearn’s assertion and probing questions.

“Let’s keep walking” he said as he turned to follow the passageway.

“You zebras” Charlie said shaking his head in minor annoyance. “You’re just that much more direct than other equines.”

“Well?” Kearn pushed the matter further.

“How long have we know each other?” Charlie asked.

“It’s been almost seven years.”

“Seven meaningful years” he corrected. This he said in the Zebra-Tongue. Something that Kearn knew wasn’t easy for the human. “Though,” he continued “are you willing to accept the fact that there are things about myself I’ve never told you?”

“I’ve always known this” agreed Kearn. “Yet, what’s happened that could make you feel the need for such depressing isolation? I say again, you have friends. Why not make use of us?”

Charlie smiled in obvious appreciation. He carelessly exposed his teeth as he did so, but Kearn had gotten used to this over time. He seemed to realize and shut his mouth several seconds later.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but my decision to be alone for most of our time here isn’t motivated by some form of masochism. Nor is there some reckless need to get the ship back in the air. That,” he added “is for the rest of the crew. They can’t stay confined here any longer. We’ll run out of drink. Crew’s have mutinied over less” he added in jest. “No, the real reason for my ‘funk,’ as you might call it, was to deal with some of my past.”

“Your past? Do you mean unpleasant past?”

“Some of it” he shrugged. “I suppose I provoked myself by pulling out a few keepsakes that made me think of some things I hadn’t for a long time. Some were good, others bad, but all worth remembering. Sometimes I find it necessary to be alone while perusing my own memories. I may have had the appearance of suffering from lethargy and boredom, but all that mess in my stateroom was my distracting myself when I needed to move on. You’ve talked about your childhood on occasion. You can’t say that it was, as my people occasionally say, ‘a rose garden.’ Though the thorns can hurt, you still desperately want to hold on.”

This made Kearn smile. Not because of his own memories of being a colt, but because he had no frame of reference for what Charlie would be like as a small child. This was difficult enough with the other members of their inner circle. He was almost convinced that Crack had never been young. While, on the other hoof, Turner had never ceased to be. This allowed one’s imagination to run wild.

“Then…” he paused thinking. “Was there a particular time in your childhood that you found it most necessary to deal with on your own?”

“Yes” Charlie replied bluntly. “The day it ended.”

****** The Alternate ******

Lieschter stared at the ceiling; off-white stucco with clear talon-marks throughout from whoever it was that had applied it. Despite the fact there was regular white-washing, the mildew spots that lurked beneath were eating through. Not a very pleasant finishing job, but it wasn’t as though a jail cell would be a high priority for any builder. He turned his head to look at the surrounding walls. They weren’t much better off. Someone needed to show this dilapidated old building some attention. Lieschter wondered if he shouldn’t volunteer himself in that capacity the next time he saw the sheriff. It wasn’t as though there was much else to do

Lieschter knew he could only dwell on life’s finer details for so long before the real gravity of his situation would set in. The truth was that he was incarcerated with no knowledge about when it might end. To get by he would offer himself small goals. Ways to devote his thoughts to anything but the bigger picture. It had worked thus far in keeping himself occupied and thus warding off deadly boredom. His first had been to conquer the hangover that had followed him there.

The sheriff had been thoughtful enough to offer him two buckets; one empty and the other filled with fresh water and a drinking gourd. Lieschter hadn’t over-indulged for almost a year. Now, both the experience and its aftermath had made him ask himself: “did I actually used to enjoy this?”

Next had been a battle with hunger. Food was only dispensed twice a day, and it wasn’t much. Yet mercifully, Light Paw had been true to her word. The sheriff would appear at midday to toss him a cloth-wrapped package filled with something extra; usually bread or cheese. One day it had been some dried figs. It was clear to Lieschter that he was receiving better treatment, with the exception of his two other fellow detainees.

Silver Dawn and Blood Moon had been separated from him with no explanation given. He’d postulated many theories as to why. Some included their age. Others, their current apprenticeship, but the one possibility that he couldn’t dismiss was the most obvious. He was Lieschter, and Lieschter was simply a Flint-Nation refugee. The memory of his once-proud den and its history, though nothing but a distant shadow to him, were a source of unpleasantness not to be acknowledged. At least, that was the unwritten rule that most of the Skyfire clan lived by. It wasn’t as though the reasons behind the Peak war, or who was truly at fault, even mattered. The remnants and reminders, such as himself, were to be covered over, much like the layer of ash and dust that he knew still covered Flint-Capitol. His thoughts probably would have continued, devoted to his current line of postulation until the next meal arrived, but as luck would have it a very unexpected distraction appeared.

Lieschter almost didn’t look up when he heard someone’s talons shuffling down the cell-block’s passageway. It was probably time for his midday morsel, he remembered thinking, but when he raised his head he was more than a bit surprised to see Light Paw standing there. Though, he wasn’t certain whether to be glad or not. Even less certain when he saw the stranger that had followed her in. He stared as she positioned a stool on the other side of the bars.

“I’m glad you’ve learned the value of silence in my absence” Light Paw joked as she leaned into the bars, steadying herself on her hind paws.

Lieschter almost laughed at her strange posture, but became distracted with the stranger as he took the seat that Light Paw had prepared. The stranger was clearly older than both of them, though not by much. He radiated an all-encompassing stare from the dull yellow eyes set under his jet-black crest. His talons were callous-free, yet he appeared somewhat weather-beaten. He had previously carried himself as though he were a bit overweight, but as he sat down and his midriff’s feather’s settled it was clear that any extra girth he was carrying was actually muscle. A career flier, Lieschter concluded. What was a distance flyer doing here, and what did Light Paw mean bringing him here?

“Who’s this one?” he inquired.

“Your salvation” Light Paw replied cryptically. “This individual says he comes from Ice Nation, and, strangely enough, he’s a proxy who specializes in navigating clan law.”

“Salvation? I though I had nothing to worry about.”

“This has little to do with why you’re behind those bars-”

“Might I ask why he’s there in the first place?” the new griffon interrupted.

“For spite.”

“Spite?” both replied together at Light Paw’s answer.

Light Paw adjusted her poise slightly and dropped back onto all-fours. She almost seemed amused as she continued.

“Lieschter here and two others were apprehended a few days ago on charges of attempting to dispose of evidence in a fraud case. The other two have been released into my…” she paused for a moment as she chose her words “into my tender care.”

“I’m not sure I like how she phrased that” Lieschter thought to himself.

“I see that look!” Light paw glared at him through the bars.

“Then explain to me why they’ve been released and I haven’t?”

“A few reasons, I should think” the black crested visitor interjected. “First, they weren’t legal adults yet, and second, Light Paw is in a position to act as a disciplinarian of sorts. Given that they’re under her sphere of responsibility after all.”

He glanced at Light Paw as he spoke. She simply nodded back agreement.

“Fine. Fine.” Lieschter waved his talon dismissively. “I’m sick of hearing just how much more fortunate others are than me. Can’t you just tell me, and perhaps why I’m actually still here, and why he's been brought?”

“You’re here because the guild is being vindictive and petty. They’re trying to use every bureaucratic method they can to make the original charge stick. I’m assuming you’ve figured out why it didn’t?”

Lieschter thought for a moment before answering. It really was rather simple.

“Oh! Of course” he chuckled as he realized why Light Paw had “betrayed” them to the Guild’s agents.

In doing so she’d not only forced them to make their move prematurely, but they’d shown their cards in the process. They’d taken the “evidence” and supposed accomplices, but there had been no accused-party to weigh it against.

“One of you will need to enlighten me later on just what you’re talking about” said the stranger.

“It’s best that you don’t ask questions of that nature,” said Light Paw “and…” she looked at Lieschter “it’s best if you refrain from answering them.”

Unexpectedly, she turned to leave.

“I’ll let Burst, or whatever his real name is interview you in private.”

They both watched her leave. Burst craned his neck in the direction of her retreat until he seemed satisfied.

“Is she gone?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful but it’s difficult to believe that she really has anyone’s best interest in mind.”

“You do sound ungrateful, but I can understand being a bit…” he paused “’pensive’ when she’s around. Yet, she seems to consider her own honor as linked to those around her. From what I can see, your current estate is eating at her. That’s why I’m here.”

“Why on earth would she suddenly care about my estate? She’s a pack alpha by nature, and she’ll probably always be.”

“Don’t be so cruel” Burst countered. “She’s taking a risk by hiring someone like myself.”

“Like yourself? What exactly are you like?”

Burst simply smiled as he dug beneath his wing and removed a gourd bottle that was concealed there. He began loosening the cork.

“I’m the kind who does things like this.”

Burst took a swig from the bottle and passed it through the bars to Lieschter. Lieschter smiled sheepishly as he remembered the hangover he’d been forced to endure recently. He first smelled the contents. The strong, sharp, and almost smokey odor wasn’t what he’d expected. He cautiously took a drink. The black liquid first tasted like roasted grain, perhaps with tree nuts. He nearly gaged from how bitter it was, but the flavor seemed to evolve into something more. It almost seemed friendly and satisfying. He passed it back.

“What is it?” he asked.

“We call it ‘go-juice’ where I’m from. You’ll start feeling rather invigorated in a bit. It’s the best kind of accompaniment to a spirited conversation, or a night on watch. Don’t worry” he added seeing Lieschter’s initial reaction “there’s no alcohol. It’s hot-brewed from the roasted and crushed seed-pits of a special kind of wild berry.”

“So… then you’re not really Ice Nation are you” Lieschter confronted Burst with the obvious truth. “It’s not like a lot of fruit grows where they come from.

Burst smiled.

“No. I’m not” he admitted rather candidly.

“Does Light Paw…?”

“Know that I lied?” Burst finished for him. “Of course. She’s sharp, that one. Though you, on the other talon, really are Flint Nation. To be honest, I never thought I’d meet one of you again.”

Lieschter just shook his head.

“You’re not exactly meeting a Flint-Nation griffon. My old den means more to other griffons than it does to me. I barely remember it save for the family armor that I have to care for and sometimes wear. I suppose,” he grinned in wry amusement “that you’re talking to the head of a household; considering how I’m the only one left.”

“So you are one of the Last Litter. I mean… how could you not be if you’re Flint-Nation. I’m very sorry for what happened to your families, but the fate of that fraternity you’re a part of is what brings me here to your cell.”

This admission surprised Lieschter a great deal.

“You mean that you’re not hear about the Artifice matter?”

“No. I’m not. What is this ‘Artifice’ that I’ve heard talk about?”

Lieschter sighed in annoyance at his own faux pas. Light Paw had asked him not to talk about it.

“It’s best that I don’t say. Besides, you probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Very well” Burst replied. “I need to interview you personally before I go over the marriage contract that they drew up on you.”

Lieschter winced. He’d forgotten about that!

“My nuptial commitment! The deadline. What’s today’s date?!”

“Don’t worry” Burst said firmly and reassuringly. “You haven’t missed any deadlines on that account, but my next question is, do you want to?”

“I have a choice?” Lieschter asked incredulously.

“There’s always a choice. Do you want to challenge the contract?”

“I wasn’t aware that could be done.”

“A generation or two ago that would’ve been an impossibility, but today… anything goes. It’s just a question of how far” Burst shrugged. He took another drink from his bottle and passed it to Lieschter again. “The real question though, is do you have a reason to? I’m not talking about anyone else’s reason. From what I can gather about you, you’re the type who tends to agree with others just to avoid conflict. While there is a time and a place for it, right now you’re allowing yourself to be maneuvered onto a path that will radically affect your life, and the worst part is that you know it too. Am I correct?”

Lieschter felt somewhat exposed, but he realized that Burst was correct. He nodded slowly as Burst continued.

“To be perfectly honest, marriage isn’t that bad. It most certainly wasn’t for me. Though, the best unions are the ones where both parties enter into it happily. So, I already told Light Paw that I won’t intercede on your behalf unless I have your personal consent. If you want to go through with your marriage I’ll get up and leave now. I’d prefer you decided quickly too. They’re probably going to let you out of here with just enough time to make it to Deep Harbor. Likely a move to ensure your movements can be controlled- err…” he paused and adjusted his crest as though it made him uncomfortable “scripted. Yes, that’s the word. Scripted. But if you tell me to, I’ll go demand to see the particulars of the contract. You didn’t consent, so there’s a strong possibility that I may find a way to renegotiate or even nullify it completely. So what’s your answer?”

Lieschter took his time as he weighed the new option. It would likely fail; being that he had so little clout within society. Yet, any chance to dig in his heels might distract others from Aureate’s current drama. After all, things of that sort tended to run on public attention. If he were to make a spectacle of himself would that shift the focus so as to soften the blows when it would come time to wage a distasteful legal battle just as his own would be?

“Review the contract” he said finally.

“You’re certain then?” Burst asked.

“Yes. I’m certain. And I’m not weak by the way.”

“I never called you ‘weak.’”

“You were thinking it. And to demonstrate my resolve, I want to go over the contract with you.”

“That might be difficult” Burst chuckled back. “You’re not exactly mobile beyond a few paces, certainly not as far as the local barrister’s practice. Even if they had a facsimile of the document, which I doubt, I’m not sure they’d allow me to remove it from the library.”

Lieschter sighed. He hadn’t actually wanted to look at that accursed document. He’d merely been posturing for the battle to come. It would be important that anyone who would see what they were doing would take him and his motives seriously. He thought quickly trying to regain the momentum of his words.

“Actually…” began Burst. “Depending on if it’s a standardized document, something I’m familiar with, or perhaps it’s short enough. I might be able to copy it by myself, or even simply memorize it. In which case, I’ll return to educate you. That is... if you actually care what’s in there.”

“I should care” Lieschter said nodding. “Besides, I’ve got little else to occupy my mind.”

Burst got up and pushed his chair back into the corner as he prepared to leave. He turned to walk away but turned back as though forgetting something.

“One more thing to add.”

“Yes?”

“If you’re going to want me to represent you. I need to know you’ll trust my decisions. Will you?”

“I’ll trust you if….”

“If?”

“If you tell me your real name.”

“My real name?”

“Yes. Please don’t play dumb. You’re insulting my intelligence. I do have intelligence by the way. The name you gave is quite old-fashioned, and since you’ve already admitted to lying about where you came from I also have to assume that you’ve been using a false name.”

Burst, or whatever his name was, simply stared back with an expression of mild shock before he began laughing as he made his way back to the door.

“Very well” he chuckled. “My real name is ‘Crack.’ Don’t think you’ll find it on the mind of any law officer. I’m no criminal, and I’m fairly certain that no one here even knows me. Even if someone does, I doubt they would even care. The name ‘Burst’ belonged to a great-grandfather, by the way.”

With that rather open admission, Burst, now “Crack” made his exit out of the door at the far end of the passageway, and at that moment, for the first time since he’d been locked up, Lieschter began to wonder if he’d done the right thing. Not only about his decision to throw down his clout to clear his friend’s name, but about making a deal with an illusive stranger.

“Lieschter…” he scolded himself aloud. “What have you done now?”

****** Here and There ******

Similar thoughts churned inside of Crack’s mind for much different reasons. He’d begun to regret his disingenuous conduct since his arrival, but coming clean might make things more unpleasant. He had appreciated Lieschter’s apparent willingness to establish real trust as long as he could clear the air, but even then, telling his real name could cause some complications if any Shore-Nation members still resided here. And then, there was his larger mission. For which sake he couldn’t afford to be delayed much longer. His anonymity might prove a wholly-necessary asset. Yes, he’d have to maintain the facade in the face of any more griffons that he encountered. Lieschter, and perhaps his benefactor, were the exceptions. “Benefactor…” Crack mused on the word for a moment. She acted more like she was his handler. As though Lieschter represented something to be kept at a distance.

Crack looked up to see Light Paw waiting for him as he exited the jail. Now here was another potential obstacle. It was clear that she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight for long. She’d already expertly indicated, without words, that she knew full well that his official story was only that. “Official.” A word among many that could now be used to camouflage any lie by just hoping that any ignorant plebeians encountered didn’t know what it meant. Yet, if Lieschter was any example, Light Paw was possibly even more astute, observant, and likely-intelligent than she looked. She didn’t trust him beyond what she believed he could provide for her. That was clear.

“So?” she asked expectantly.

“He’s agreed to fight.”

The griffoness smiled with relief as the two of them began walking up the street towards the center of Stone Capitol.

“However, I suppose I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention this…” he continued.

“Mention what?”

“He’s clearly not making the decision for himself.”

“You think I… coerced him?”

“That's not what I meant” Crack shook his head. “I only meant that my gut tells me that he’s choosing this course of action for someone else’s sake.”

“What makes you think that?”

“The fact that he couldn’t make up his mind that quickly when I asked him for his permission. If he’d wanted it one way or another he would’ve simply said ‘yes’ or ‘no’. It’s really that simple. I think what’s holding him here is a sense of duty.”

“Lieschter!? Duty!?” Light Paw seemed to be choking back laughter. He’s one of the most lackadaisical young griffons I’ve ever known!”

“Then why didn’t you remove him from your Pack? I can tell from the way that he looks at you that you used to be his Alpha.”

Light Paw was silent.

“If he couldn’t do his job as required then you should have. I shouldn’t have to tell a griffoness of your level of maturity that duty is more that just following instructions. It’s clear that Lieschter has a sense of duty, and a personal sense at that. From what I can tell during my interview I sensed no hostility or cynicism towards the prospect of marriage. I think that his future wife would be quite happy to be married to someone who can devote themselves to another so entirely. It would probably be good for both of them.”

“Do… you think so?”

“Yes, but if I were to guess… he’d be leaving something here unfinished, and he doesn’t want to abandon it before it's concluded.” Crack paused as Light Paw stared at him in amazement. “How am I doing?” he added.

“Reasonably well” she shrugged.

“Now it’s your turn” he grinned back.

“Mine? Whatever do you mean?”

“Would you care to tell me some more about just what sort of game you’re running here? Specifically, I’d like to know what Lieschter and those two friends you mentioned did to get themselves incarcerated? Also, what is this ‘Artifice’ that I’ve heard mentioned several times. I have to tell you I-” Crack stopped as he was once again met with at stony expression.

“No” Light Paw said in an equally gray tone. “You don’t need that information to do your job.”

“Excuse me?” Crack said sarcastically; rolling his eyes in equal frustration and stopping to face her. “I think I’ll decide what I need to take this negotiation. If you’ve got a problem with that, then perhaps You don’t really need this so badly. That being the case, I do have other things I have to do, and right now they’re a good deal more important than your little paralegal schemes.”

He drove home his point with a talon pointed directly at the shocked expression on her face. It was abundantly clear that this griffoness was not used to being addressed in such a manner; definitely a pack alpha. Her stupor was short-lived, though.

“Well then!” She growled back at him. “Maybe I should just point you in the direction of the gate and you can be on your way! I can read characters like you at a glance too.”

“Can you now” Crack rolled his eyes in sarcasm.

“I can” she continued. “I know full well that less than half of your story is true. As not just a door warden, but a custom’s officer as well, I have the authority to revoke your landing permission at any time.”

“You think I’m ignorant of that? You’d have to haul me in front of a judge first, and…” though the street was relatively empty he lowered his voice “I don’t think you want to go near a judge right now. You’re afraid they’ll smell your own deceit too.”

Crack watched with satisfaction as Light Paw’s resolve crumbled. She growled again, turning away and continuing up the street.

“Well aren’t you just a moral authority!" She sneered. “Fine! We’re both liars and we’re terrible at it!”

“Oh, no” Crack replied playfully. “I think we’re both very good at lying. Though, yours were lies of omission, we should both think of them as the proverbial ‘cat in the bag.’ You might not be able to tell what kind it is, but everyone is acutely aware of just what it is.”

“Please.” She looked back at him pleadingly. “I… we… my associates and I… we need Lieschter to stay here for at least a little while longer. I’m sure you’ve guessed that they’re keeping him in that cage so that they can release him with just enough time to make it to his intended. He’ll have no choice but to leave as quickly as possible.”

“I’d considered that, and by the way… you’ve just let something slip.”

“What? What do you mean by that.”

“You used the word ‘they’” Crack said simply, letting the word drop as though from a great height. “I’ve suspected from the moment I met you that you’re trying to keep your beak shut about something; cat in the bag and all.”

He looked up at her as he spoke, but she quickly averted her gaze.

“Don’t punish yourself for letting on” he continued. “You might be good at various omissions, but this one is personal in a way. In fact, from the way you coached Lieschter, I’d say that he’s in the same boat. Correct?”

Light Paw stayed silent but risked a glance.

“So…” Crack grinned with superiority as he prepared for the finishing blow. “You both know something that would be best kept to yourselves. Whatever it is I’d say it’s damaging to someone; either you or someone else you care about. So much so that someone is trying to banish Lieschter. So just who are ‘they?’”

Crack’s exterior exuded confidence in his own insight, but the truth was another thing. He’d allowed himself to embark on a somewhat wild tangent, but Light Paw’s reactions had indicated he was beating the right patch of grass. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel he was stirring up a cockatrice along with the snakes. What he got next didn’t exactly turn him to stone, but he almost wished that he had an excuse to freeze.

“The Guild” she said finally.

Now it was Crack who couldn’t hide his shock.

“That’s not very amusing” Crack responded finally, hoping it was all just a fabrication. Though, he knew it wasn’t.

“It wasn’t meant to be. It’s the truth. Scared much yet?”

“Idiot! What have I gotten myself into!?” Crack though frantically to himself as he continued staring down someone who was either very brave or very stupid. “Forget that!” He thought again. “I was supposed to avoid drawing attention to myself! For all I know I’m already being watched!” He chose his next words carefully.

“Just what would make someone with your stature in this community lock horns with the Guild?”

“That’s none of your concern right now! Did it ever occur to you that maybe I had a very good reason for not wanting to tell you? That maybe actually knowing might put you in danger? Or worse, you wouldn’t have agreed to help me with Lieschter.”

“You’re probably right about that. I came here for other reasons, and engaging in an anti-Guild crusade wasn’t one of them. I know I told you I was looking for work, but in truth I was already on a job. I don’t think I can do both.

“So then, your backing out like a coward” she spat back at him.

“I have no choice. I don’t have the time to decide just how I’m going to help your friend and how I’m going to accomplish what I came here to do.”

Light Paw drew back for a moment. She expression appeared to be pondering something.

“Tell me what you want. I may be able to get it for you.”

“Somehow I doubt that” Crack chuckled nervously. “Yet, if you can assist me with my business I may be obligated to assist you with yours depending on what it really entails.”

“If I can’t do it I know someone who can.”

“Who?”

“I’ll tell you if you prove to me right now that I can trust you.”

“How?”

“Tell me your real name, and just what den you’re really from.”

Crack sighed as he frantically considered his options. He was truly cornered now. Perhaps now, forward was the only way to go.

“Very well” he replied at length. My given name is Crack, and I was born in Shore Nation.”

Light Paw said nothing as she stared directly at him while he stared back.

“I believe you” She said finally as she turned, beckoning for him to follow. “Come with me and I-. Ah… we’ll see what we can do.”

“Just where are we going? You don’t even know what I’m after yet.”

The griffoness shook her head as she walked.

“I don’t need to know just yet, but since you’ve so insisted, I’ve decided that I might as well bring you in on a good deal more than you’re even going to like. I need you to meet someone.”

“Again, who is this you’ve been talking about?”

“A friend” she said grinning.

“A friend” Crack repeated incredulously. “What makes you think that they’ll want to be my friend?”

“It depends.”

“On?”

“Whether or not you’re willing to do things that the rest of us can’t.”

Chapter 5: Course Correction

****** Nothing Human ******

Life was worth living again. At least that’s what it felt like as Charlie woke to fresh sunlight beaming in through his stateroom’s window and hitting his face. It meant the Amerigo’s best means of convenient natural concealment was gone. He didn’t care, though. After a perfect evening consisting of an otherwise ubiquitous shower and hot meal. He’d drifted off while listening to a favorite Fleetwood Mac album, and he’d slept a delicious sleep. Was that possible? For sleep to be “delicious”? Why not? The combination of a full stomach, music and the newly-restored vibrations of the ship’s transmission shafts had made for the best night’s respite in weeks!

He smiled as he lay there drowsily enjoying it. He glanced over at the wall clock; its seconds hand ticking along steadily now that the main electrical buses had been restored. A few ticks later he started suddenly as he realized just how late it was. Summer, the head stewardess, her name short for “Summer Soft,” hadn’t woken him up like he’d asked! The confounded mother hen!

“Why does she always think she knows what’s best?!” Charlie lamented as he peeled back the covers, bracing himself for the cold shock, but it didn’t come. Central heating had been restored. He let his feet touch the deck. Again, there was no temperature shock, just the soft vibrations of the ship’s power plant.

“Better get dre-…” his thoughts were interrupted as he realized he was still tethered to the tape recorder on his nightstand. He gingerly removed the headphones, taking care to inspect them for damage as he did. Thankfully, he was relieved to see there was none. He’d already repaired them twice that year alone. They’d no doubt reached the end of their useful life and would probably soon stop working altogether. He’d wondered several times if it would be possible to manufacture a replacement set, but every time he’d come to the conclusion that such precision tooling was likely beyond any skills or resources that he or Kearn possessed. It had been difficult enough to work out a process to manufacture conventional speaker diaphragms from cardstock paper or light-bulbs from silica and hair, and even though a unicorn skilled in telekinetic manipulation could theoretically replicate the shape of almost anything, the process could sometimes result in the destruction of the original.

Charlie stowed the electronics on his nightstand and went about securing the rest of his cabin and its contents for flight. Looking towards the foot of his rack Charlie realized that Summer actually had been there. She’d just been silent. A stack of freshly laundered clothing, which included his mended deck jacket, had been set on top of his wardrobe. She’d take extra care to lay out his one-piece coveralls, duty belt, and flight safety gear. Summer had even been thoughtful enough to set a plate of food on his desk; biscuits and hard-boiled eggs. Charlie shook his head, rebuking himself for his earlier thoughts. Such thoughtfulness on Summer’s part might indeed allow him some additional time. After all, having had a good night’s sleep under his belt would be an asset that day. He wondered if she’d done the same for Kearn as well. He kept one eye on the wall clock as he went about his various grooming rituals. Despite his earlier panic, he wasn’t exactly “late.” He’d wanted to get up early to eat breakfast with the crew and to allow the various department heads to present their underway checklists in an informal setting.

“Ready at last” he said aloud with satisfaction as he glanced into the mirror and adjusted the straps on his duty belt and safety gear. He stepped into the corridor seconds later and almost collided with Kearn who was rushing out of his own cabin door.

“You too?”

“Yes. Me too” Kearn said, pausing to adjust his own safety harness. “I thought Summer Soft was supposed to wake us.

“She had other ideas. I’m sure it made sense to her” came Turner's voice from the opposite direction.

They both turned to see the unicorn striding towards them, also regaled for flight operations. Additionally, he was carrying a pair of saddlebags filled with various papers. “Don’t worry about your precious checklists. I’ve got them all right here” he said grinning cheerfully. “I need to put my best hoof forward if I’m going to be your executive for this cruise.”

“Whatever” Kearn snorted before turning and dashing aft towards the crossover and his beloved Platform.

Charlie sighed and headed the opposite direction.

“So when did Lance and Salt release you?”

“Last night. I think Salt finally got tired of me.”

“How do you feel?”

“Normal” he smiled. “If you’re asking me what I thought of my recent experience. I don’t think much of anything. I can’t really remember much of it.”

“You can’t remember?”

“Oh I can remember every detail of what happened. I just don’t remember why? I can’t remember what I was feeling at the time.”

“Was it like...?” Charlie paused for a moment as he thought. “What it like being drunk?”

“Maybe, but even when you’re drunk you can remember how good or bad it felt. I don’t have a hangover, though. So I suppose it’s a tradeoff. But Ripple on the other hoof-”

“Yes, about Ripple?” Charlie interrupted. “How’s she doing? I haven’t heard anything new from Lance.”

“With good reason” Turner nodded. “He’s buried himself in his books and I think he’s trying to design some fearsome new surgical tool to remove those little crystal points from her horn.”

“Well good for him, but what about Ripple?”

“Well she’s been awake for the last day and a half. I spent some of it with her by her bedside.”

“Spent? Spent how?”

“Various things. Talking and reading to her mostly. Anything to help calm her down and distract her.”

“Anxiety issues?”

Turner rolled his eyes.

“Just you try getting one of your limbs paralyzed. She’s afraid that she’ll never get her horn back again. Also…” he paused and stared at Charlie directly “She’s afraid that you’re angry with her. You’re not, are you?”

“I honestly hadn’t taken the time to be mad at her. Yes, she did something very stupid, and I think it’s a given that Kearn isn’t going to let her back on his Platform any time soon, but angry? I’d say ‘no’.”

“You might want to make that clear to her then, before she gets any more emotional.”

“Ripple? Emotional? I never would’ve guessed” Charlie Chuckled as the two of them finally arrived on the Amerigo’s main bridge.

It too had come back to life. The main electric lighting, now fed from the ship’s alternator plant, glowed with the usual warm softness instead of the flickering yellow of the emergency lights, or worse, no light at all. The stations and their various panels radiated their own soft and friendly light. Charlie looked above him to see the butt ends of the slowly rotating port and starboard transmission shafts, and now that the bridge’s tapshafts had been re-engaged, the ship’s-service equipment could function. The ventilation fans were moving in the fresh air again. The combination of light and constant motion all around seemed to have successfully brought to crew back to life as well, as they were all busy with their own tasks preparing to get underway. As Captain, Charlie couldn’t help but feel pride, not only in his crew but in the environment they’d all been able to create together.

He stopped at his own station or “Perch” as it had been dubbed. Despite what Star Trek seemed to imply, a captain’s position on the bridge ought to be efficient as possible, and rather tight. His station though located centrally on the upper bridge, consisted of an area only a bit larger than your average telephone booth. It was for this reason he’d chosen to make his own captain’s chair very simple. It had more in common with a bar stool or a barber’s chair. To his to his left he could reach for the various jay-handsets or he could view his own quick status board. To his right was his own small desk and equipment rack. Though he called it a “desk” it was really more the size of a speaker’s lectern, but it proved preferable to constantly holding a clipboard in his lap. Just behind him the chart table was a few steps away, but even closer was his access to the twin periscope wells. From his central position he had a clear elevated view from the upper bridge level and could easily look over the ship’s sunken cockpit extension. Ahead of that was the most impressive feature. The panoramic windows.

He checked that the power-lights were on for his PA system amplifier before reaching for the microphone hung next to it.

“I’d re-think that” came Scotch’s voice.

“Huh?” Charlie turned to face him.

“Kearn had me check all of the loudspeakers, and it looks like the moisture out here ended up ruining most of the diaphragms.”

Charlie sighed. He should’ve guessed.

“And I suppose we don’t have any more spares?”

“Correct. We’ll have to make more.”

“You didn’t come all the way up here to tell me that did you?”

Scotch shook his head and rummaged in one of his saddlebags before depositing a stack of Kearn’s checklists on Turner’s nearby chart table.

“I’ve assembled the section chiefs for all of the departments to give account and then pass the word when we’re ready. I thought you’d want to do things that way.”

Charlie nodded agreement before Looking at Turner.

“Oh. Right” the stallion replied with some mild embarrassment. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not used to being the first officer.”

“Well then get used to it!” said Headwind striding up to the small gathering that had formed. “This is hardly the time to forget yourself.”

“Let’s just get this done” said Charlie holding up his hand. “We can argue about the merits, or for that matter need, of military finesse later.”

Turner Cleared his throat.

“All departments have submitted their checklists, and there are no anomalies documented within them that haven’t been dealt with. I’ve also confirmed that all members of the ship’s crew are accounted for. That includes the ones who were running the trading post and... our usual first officer” he added. “I’ve designated a replacement helmsman since I’ll be filling Crack’s position. Finally, I’ve computed and submitted our course and plan, which includes necessary piloting considerations and our expected translation-envelope.”

Charlie nodded briefly. Just as Headwind wasted no time.

“I feel the tactical situation is sufficient; if not for one minor detail.”

“And that is?”

“Why are we doing this in broad daylight? The more light, the greater the chance of making ourselves noticed. I’d recommend at least waiting for twilight or perhaps just before dawn the next morning.”

“You do, do you? Has it also occurred to you that our liftoff and translation from out between these unfamiliar peaks with the updrafts we’ve observed here will require very fine control? Add to that, nighttime condition and even Turner would need to be almost clairvoyant to avoid knocking his elevators on something. I’m not going to risk it, and I’m sure you don’t want to either.”

Headwind, also referred to jokingly as “Headstrong” seemed ready to respond, but Charlie interrupted him.

“My decision is final. Or, did the scouts see anything that might give us pause?”

Headwind seemed to relent and he shook his head in defeat.

“I’ve recalled all of my weather team except for Ellipse. She’s going to be the guide while we pilot off of this mountain. All scouts report the sky is clear of any potential contacts or weather. There are also hardly any cumulus clouds to be seen either. I’d recommend that we translate to cruising altitude as quickly as possible and see if we can’t harvest some cirrus clouds. It’s not ideal material for the shroud, but it’ll have to do.”

“How full are the shroud-accumulators right now?” asked Charlie.

“About one-eighth or so. Not enough to produce a convincing shroud.”

“I suppose it depends on who you’re trying to convince” added Scotch. “I agree with Head, though. We should try to get some cloud media any way we can. Even if it’s not the best kind. Ordinarily Kearn would just have me make it from the ship’s water reserves, but as I’m sure the quartermaster will tell you, we don’t really have enough to use with such abandon. Kearn told me to ask that when we do land we ought to do it near some water.”

Charlie nodded again and looked at Turner.

“I’ll see what I can do about selecting a good place, but how about the Assembly? I know that it’s foremost on everyone’s mind right now. After all, that’s why he won’t leave the platform right now and why he asked you to come in his stead. Isn’t it?”

“Probably” Scotch nodded. “As far as the repair goes, I haven’t seen Kearn in any obvious panic. He’s also not smoking any more than usual. So I guess he’s not too worried right now. He did ask that I make sure we’re going to use an airfoil translation this time. We are, aren’t we?” he asked looking directly at Turner for affirmation.

Though it might have been altogether unwarranted, what everyone was acutely aware of at the moment was the makeshift part at the ship’s heart and what a failure could mean. It was important to avoid any unnecessary stress on the Harmonic Assembly until a suitable replacement could be installed. The Amerigo’s usual climb to cruising altitude was a simple enough matter, but it relied on using the Assembly to lift the rest of the ship’s mass directly; a quite advantageous capability that was granted by the Elements. Yet, there was another method still. By using the ship’s aerodynamic control surfaces, enough lift could be generated to gain altitude through forward motion. The catch was that it required an appreciable amount of speed to generate the necessary lift. Thus, a long run-on course was needed; usually requiring a corkscrew-like flight pattern or carefully planned back-and-forth turns.

Turner nodded back at Scotch to confirm that he’d planned the most easy-going strategy.

“I suppose we can look at this as a chance to see just how airworthy the superstructure is” Charlie said smiling nervously.

“Just how much do you trust that slap-dash fix you made anyways?” came the voice of the Amerigo’s quartermaster.
Samaritan, or “Sam”, as Charlie had chosen to call him was not only in charge of the ship’s supply department, but also ran the galley; keeping everyone’s bellies filled. For this reason one of the first things that a greener would learn was that they should try to keep him happy at all costs. Yet, being that Sam was a mule, the challenge could prove somewhat problematic.

Charlie was about to respond but Scotch did first, in what he must have felt to be righteous indignation.

“My- Our work is not ‘slap-dash’ as you’ve chosen to put it! We worked very hard on that shaft I’ll have you know! We turned it out, laminated another layer on, and then, just for good measure, we put metal bands and caps over the ends! So don’t go saying that we-!”

“But you still made it out of wood. I may be no engineer, but I know that wood and metal are two vastly different materials. No one that I’ve ever heard of cooked using a wooden frying pan. So there! I don’t have to be Turner to do the maths in this case. The part you replaced, that by the way was made of metal, couldn’t handle what that mechanical monstrosity required of it, and you expect me to believe an inferior replacement should be trusted?”

“Before you two say something that you’ll both regret, I’d just like to ask one question” interrupted Charlie. “Do you all trust me?”

Each of them looked at each other before nodding slowly.

“Good. I was beginning to worry. The reality is that we’re not in an ideal situation here, but you all need to keep in mind that while you trust my judgment in this matter I trust Kearn’s judgment. He knows what he’s doing, and also, we’re not going to use the piece forever. Just until we can manufacture a new one. Isn’t that right Scotch?”

Scotch nodded vigorously.

“That being said though as a precaution I want all crew members, myself included, to keep their harnesses on and their safety lanyards attached to the closest safety hitch.”

Charlie’s order was greeted by a chorus of groans.

“Yes. I know it’s inconvenient, but I don’t want to take the risk of injury due to a… a bumpy ride.”

Charlie wished he could placate their fears, but he wasn’t so sure about things himself. He’d considered an evacuation drill but thought better of it. Running such an exercise might send a negative signal about just how safe they all really were. He dismissed his own trepidation. After all, how long could it really take to turn out a new shaft anyways? Not more than a few days. They could change it out after they’d set down.

“Now.” Charlie cleared his throat. “Sam. Are you stowed and ready?”

“Yes. I’m as ready as I can be” the mule replied slowly.”

“What did the trading post manage to acquire?”

“Nothing extraordinary. We sold a few copies of our latest wind-tables to some traders coming up the highway. From that we managed to procure a few sacks of grain, some fresh fruit, and a few casks of cooking oil in return. I hope you all like rye, because that’s what the watch biscuits will be for the next little while.”

“No eggs?” asked Turner, somewhat disappointedly.

“No eggs, but our own stores of dairy have increased since we’ve been here. I’d say the vegetation here agrees with Red. She’s produced nearly a third more milk than usual. I asked her to turn most of it into mozzarella. As for the rest of the curds, you’ve all got a choice between jack, which I can throw some dried peppers into, or if you want to wait a bit longer, swiss.”

Saw was met by a chorus of requests for swiss cheese.

“I guess it’s swiss this time around” Charlie said as he finished counting the votes. “How much did Red grace us with?”

“About twenty pails.”

“I swear, we’re lucky to have that cow. I’d pay her in gold if she cared about it. How does she produce so much?”

“I heard she got herself… enhanced” said Headwind.

“Come on Head” Charlie replied as he tried fighting back a rather inappropriate mental image.

“Actually…” Penny, who’d been silent up to that moment, responded. “It’s no joke. It’s a zebra spell given in a potion medium over a few months. When my mother had triplets. She was prescribed a somewhat milder form so she could feed them all, but it was more or less the same kind of thing that cows sometimes use for productivity reasons.”

Salt, who was standing next to her, simply nodded back at Charlie’s bemused expression.

“Don’t look so surprised. I thought you’d said something about the females of your race doing the same thing?”

“W- well… yes. I suppose some of them do, but it’s for… vastly different reasons.”

“Really?” Inquired Turner; his ears perking up with interest. “You’ve never mentioned that to me. I do however remember you mentioning once, and I let it slide because you were a little drunk, that human males sometimes get their-”

“That’s it!” Charlie said banging his heel on the deck so that the entire bridge could hear. “We’re getting underway before we all regret this conversation. Unless there are any more germane questions or comments before we do?”

They all shook their heads one after another. Charlie nodded back before clearing his throat.

“Station the maneuvering watch!” he shouted.

His order was met by the various department heads and section representatives stomped their hooves, and/or paws, in acknowledgement. They turned and trotted, some galloped, away to pass the word. Charlie and Kearn took their positions overlooking the lower bridge.

The next few moments were relatively uneventful. Charlie took position by his perch and was careful to buckle his safety strap onto an overhead runner bar. Turner, who likewise had fastened his own lanyard to a hitch, uncapped the earpice on a nearby jay-set and stood overlooking the rest of the watch-standers as they prepared for the order. As the Amerigo now stood it was basically a coiled spring. One that was ready to leap into the sky as soon as the order was given.

“All hull sections report that they’re secured for flight!” Turner finally stated as he grinned from ear to ear with coltish excitement showing through.

“Very good X.O.” Charlie acknowledged as he tried to conceal his immense relief that Kearn hadn’t figured out some reason to keep them there for another day. “Please take us up to join the pilot guide.”

Turner nodded as he jumped down from the upper bridge into the cockpit area. He was immediately replaced at the jay-set by an extra who’d been waiting for him. Charlie couldn’t blame him for such a hooves-on approach. Turner was too involved in his own area of expertise to ever seriously think about permanently occupying the executive officer’s position. Being in a command related position entailed trusting others to do their jobs without micro-managing them, but perhaps Turner had a good reason for observing his cockpit staff so closely today.

The unicorn levitated out a pre-scripted bell-order in the form of a punch card. This he presented to the bridge’s telegraph operator. The Amerigo’s telegraph system had proven an excellent addition to the Bridge and the Platform. Charlie had fought with Kearn and Crack over whether developing such a device was a waste of resources or not, but the ease with which it could deliver instructions to the Platform’s pusher operators had ended up carrying the day.

The telegraph operator carefully examined the card, inserted into the intake slot and pulled the execution lever to send the bell-requests to the pushers. Each of the six pusher telegraphs’ needles swung to their new ordered bell, letting out a satisfying click-clack noise. Seconds later a chorus of tiny bells and blinking green electric lights indicated acknowledgement from the Platform.

Turner smiled before grabbing one of the signal ropes in his teeth. The ship echoed with the sound of the steam-operated klaxon. Though the similarity had been unintentional, the sound reminded Charlie of old World War II submarine movies. He could still remember how his grandfather had told him “Nothing says excitement like closing the sub’s main induction!” Charlie smiled again as he wondered what his grandfather would say if he were present at that moment.

His thoughts were interrupted as a chorus of creaks and groans reverberated throughout. The hull-popping noises were quite normal as the Amerigo’s mass was transferred from the landing struts to the superstructure, but with the recent issues it seemed wise to pay closer attention to the sounds. Charlie glanced at the structural-stress indicators, but was relieved to see that their needles, though wobbling ferociously, hadn’t left the green. The deck’s gentle vibrations seemed to deepen and the characteristic rumbling drone produced by the Harmonic Assembly’s atmospheric disturbances could be discerned. That sound would soon fade out as the ground was left behind. The lights dimmed momentarily before brightening again. Charlie looked downward through the cockpit’s glass viewing ports. As expected the grass and other foliage stretched towards ship; drawn by the ever-strengthening field it was now emitting. That phenomenon still wasn’t fully understood, even by Turner. It seemed odd that a pushing force could cause attraction. It was more likely there were secondary forces at work.

The ship now bobbed slightly, feeling as though it were adrift on the sea. The landing strut status board’s lights had gone clear to indicate that none of the landing gear was touching the ground. The ground in question was steadily receding to reveal the delta-shaped outline of the ship.

“We’re levitating! Standing by at treetop broach” Turner stated with satisfaction. Charlie nodded back.

“Stow the landing struts. Prepare to commence piloting. We need translation completed in the hour” Charlie said as he turned to face Headwind, who was engaged in raising one of the topside periscopes. “Is that satisfactory?”

“Yeth. I thnk tho.” he replied without pausing, his mouth still gripping the crank handle.

Charlie waited for the scope to settle in its raised position with a clank. He pressed his faced into the padded eyepieces, taking care to adjust them to the width of his human eyes.

“All clear” he delivered after rotating a full 360 degrees. “I have the pilot guide. Three, one, one, relative-bearing. X.O., you may commence piloting” Charlie instructed as he turned the scope over to Head.

Turner stamped his hoof in acknowledgement before ordering a new course and bell. The ship lurched forward under the new bell, and then swayed from side to side as the aerodynamic control surfaces were configured. It began to steady itself as it picked up speed. Everyone’s eyes glanced at the altitude scope from time to time; the mercury in its bulb rising little by little. Any noise from the ship began to blend with the noise of rushing air as they picked up speed and altitude. The trees below them seemed to flow past like a lazy river, gradually becoming more swift.

At last they were flying! Charlie grinned with relief and satisfaction as he took a seat on his perch. This was where the ship actually belonged. Who cared if gravity disagreed? “Law of gravity indeed!” That had been one of the first “natural” laws that had ever been broken, and not just by humankind now either!

“We’re signaling the pilot guide now” said Turner as he climbed the ladder-well back to the upper bridge. “As soon as she’s aboard we’ll commence the first turn.”

Charlie nodded.

“So how did I do?”

“You mean as X.O.?” Charlie thought for a moment before he shrugged. “No too shabby I suppose, but I’m most appreciative of was how well you got things planned and executed before we even briefed.”

Turner smiled at the praise.

“But… it’s not as though the first-officer position is up-for-grabs. You don’t really want to be X.O., do you?”

“Not particularly. It’s just fun to take on different roles sometimes.”

“Well good. Because Crack would be downright miffed if you challenged his ability in the middle of his tenure. So don’t get used to this. He’ll hopefully be back very soon. He may even be waiting for us when we land in a day or two if he’s finished his mission.”

“Do you think he’ll be successful?”

“I have no idea” Charlie shook his head. “It was his idea, but if there’s anyone among us who can figure out how to manipulate an entire den of griffons it’s him.”

****** Broken in Transit ******

Aureate felt sick and drained. She’d tried her best over the last several days to play the part that Larder had insisted upon. That part being the helpless shut-in. “Sequestered for her own, and probably others, good” or so both he and Light Paw had said. Even though she usually had Larder’s house to herself, she had to have some more space! She needed engagement! Anything! “Stir-crazy,” that’s what she’d heard it called before, and that combined with the worry about what was happening to her friends, family, and even the Artifice-… No! Megah! It was all enough to make her feel physically sick too! Perhaps, it could be chocked up to the smell of the house. Larder’s dwelling reeked of tobacco smoke, and that, coupled with the downright noxious blend of spices he placed in most all of his food, was probably enough to make anyone ill!

Larder had attempted to keep her occupied while he wasn’t there. He’d given her permission to read his semi-secret collection of books; those she could decipher at any rate. He’d also allowed her into his basement “larder,” for lack of any better term to describe it. Aside from books of all sorts, everything from furniture to, spices, to uncut diamonds and a supply of some of the finest-looking steel ingots Aureate had ever laid eyes on had been laid out before her when she’d first walked in. Larder really did seem like he had everything. The mass of material possessions was indeed impressive, but it left an important question. Just how had Larder managed to conceal this for so long? It had made her rethink her estimation of city-level traders.

Regardless of how he got it all in there, or where it even came from for that matter, Larder had been eager to include her in his method of distributing his wares. Here came another shock. Though many of the “stock-picks” he’d asked her to pull together for him had raised here eyebrows based not only on what they were but also on just who was ordering them. For example, the local Sheriff had a taste for black pepper that was imported from some non-aligned equine principality, one of the most popular local taverns consumed vast quantities of distilled grain spirits, a sure sign they were stretching their supply. And finally, the Stone Nation Diet, in addition to a plethora of bureaucratic items, always seemed to have a need for shelled roasted nuts of all sorts!

Aureate had first engaged herself in assisting her host behind the scenes since she’d been curious about just how he could throw his own honor to the wind, or at least skirt the law so casually, but after almost a week she’d come to the conclusion that Larder didn’t seem at all to be doing anything terribly untoward. With the exception of re-labeling certain locally-made products of sorts as imported so as to dodge a longstanding tax on producers that had once been levied by the Guild. This was something Larder called “reclamation,” and although it was technically illegal, Aureate couldn’t think of anyone who wouldn’t support it. Larder least of all, considering his rather cynical and, at times almost hostile, attitude towards the organization that Aureate had been forced to hide from.

For the first time in Aureate’s Solarclaw’s life she’d found that the only thing that was worse than finding out just what the Guild was up to was not knowing what they were up to concerning her. It was because of this that her de-facto incarceration was made that much more unbearable. Whenever she would ask Larder what was happening he would simply give her the line: “It’s best you don’t know right now.” She’d begun to wonder lately if Larder even knew anything more or had even managed to forward a plan to begin with. She had to know! She just had to! She at least had to know about her family and, just as importantly, her friends. She could no longer afford to take “no” for an answer, but as luck would have it, the answer ended up crossing the threshold of Larder’s door shortly after she’d made up her mind.

Aureate had just finished putting together a shipment of unmarked steel-blanks that were clearly intended for making weapons when she heard what at first she thought was the familiar sound of Light Paw’s step on the floor above. She was about to run up the cellar stairs to greet her friend when she heard a much different step and then a much more unfamiliar voice accompanying it. She fell as silent as she could, trying to assess just who had entered the house upstairs. Whether or not it was intentional, living with Larder had made paranoia second-nature to her, but this turned out to be unwarranted when she heard Light Paw speaking normally to the stranger as though nothing were amiss.

“Lard!” Light Paw called out. “Where are you?”

“He’s not in” Aureate called back up the stairs; still not sure whether or not she should reveal herself to the newcomer.
Light Paw’s head poked though the curtains at the top of the stairs.

“Where’s he gone?” she asked.

“It’s best if I don’t know right now” she cracked sarcastically.

Light Paw just shook her head in amusement.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“He never misses a meal” Aureate shrugged. “So… within the hour perhaps?”

Light Paw just shook her head again, this time in frustration. “I’ve about had it with that one” she muttered.”
Aureate gave a weak smile.

“Who’s that up there with you, or do I want to know?”

After pausing for a second or two, Light Paw drew back the curtain and beckoned Aureate to come up the stairs.

“I suppose you’d better just get acquainted now. I wanted to talk to our ‘glorious leader’ first, but I’m sick of waiting for him.”

Aureate emerged from the cellar to see a rather curious-looking griffon seated at the table where Larder would typically receive his callers. His greasy-looking black crest definitely looked like it belonged to the usual type who would sit at that table, but that was all. His gaze was quite focused. His eyes were engaged in carefully scrutinizing her as she moved into view. Not just her either. It was almost the as though he was inspecting the room they occupied, and she just happened to be a part of it. Definitely not there to do the usual business she concluded. His physique was also interesting. He was far too fit to be a merchant. Both his wings and his hind legs were well-toned. If he’d been closer to her age she might have considered him attractive. Though, he was clearly at least fifteen, maybe twenty years her senior.
Aureate simply stared back at him before turning to her friend.

“So what does this one want?” she asked.

“To help” he interrupted before Light Paw could speak.

“What makes you so certain that anyone here needs your help?”

“Your friend Lieschter does.”

“Lieschter?” Aureate replied, perhaps a bit too quickly.

She dropped back tring to feign disinterest in what he’d said, but it was clear from his widening grin that he found her reaction telling.

“So there is chemistry” he cackled with wry amusement.

Aureate just scowled back at him.

“Just what does Lieschter need help with, besides being released from jail?”

“A great deal” he replied. “He’s been caught up in what’s called a ‘quicksilver.’”

“Quicksilver?” inquired Light Paw. “I’ve never heard that term.”

The newcomer was silent. He appeared to be thinking. Moments later he reached into his hauberk and pulled out an object that was strung about his neck. At first it simply looked like a wad of dirty cloth, but as he undid the lanyard from his neck he pulled away the cloth wrappings. They gave way to show a glass or crystal phial; inside of which seemed to be a lump of metal.

Aureate shrugged.

“So what? It’s just a piece of silver in a-”

She didn’t finish her sentence, as the glass was tilted to one side. Aureate and even Light Paw, who seemed to know what to expect, both watched in astonishment as the contents shifted its form and literally flowed from one end to the other. He repeated the motion in the opposite direction before quickly re-wrapping the trinket and placing it back in its hiding place.

“W-what is-… what was that?!” Aureate sputtered in astonishment.

“Quicksilver. He just told you” came Larder’s voice from behind them.

They all turned to see him striding into the room.

“How long were you there?” asked Light Paw.

“Long enough to at least realize that you’ve invited someone into my home that’s more than he appears at first glance.”

Larder halted and carefully scowled at their guest; sizing him up for several minutes.

“Who are you?” he inquired after several moments of silent treatment.

“My name is Crack. I-”

“No. Who are you with?”

“You tell me” Crack retorted.

Larder was silent for a few moments more, but finally shook his head and sat at the table.

“I was afraid that you were a dramatis from the guild.”

“What reassured you then?”

“A Guild agent wouldn’t wear such an obvious disguise. I can see that your crest has been tied back with a plumage net. It’s quite a job, but whoever’s idea that was should have known that such a costume needs to be rearranged once a day at least. You can drop the Ice-Nation accent too.”

“Oh” Crack’s voice flattened out a bit. “Am I still doing that? Sorry.”

“So, you’re really Shore Nation?”

“Yes,” he nodded back “and I can see that you’re a dawnling. I haven’t met one of you for a while. I think the last time I saw one of you was during the-”

“Forget your dens!” Aureate interrupted. “What is this ‘quicksilver’ stuff, and what does it have to do with my friend?!”
Larder and Crack looked at each other. Larder simply motioned for Crack to continue before turning towards his pantry.

“Yes, of course.” He cleared his throat. “Quicksilver is a rather interesting commodity, but I suppose it depends on where you are. It’s mostly used for alchemy. Though, some jewelry has quicksilver facets. In some places it’s also called ‘silver blood,’ but that’s not because it’s actually blood in any sense. It’s mining and refinement can end up extracting a cost of blood.”

“Blood?” Light Paw asked, her interest apparently piqued.

“The miners typically become ill and die” said Larder as he approached the table again and deposited a large plate of various sandwich fixings. “It’s for that reason they’re usually convicts.”

“Do you mean that Lieschter might be-?”

“You needn’t worry about something like that. Liechter isn’t in any danger from the Law” Crack reassured Aureate. “Besides, it’s the law that shuttered the mining of cinnabar ore before any of us were born. First it was the independent dens like Stone Nation and then even state societies like the Imperium that were forced to follow suite or look foolish.”

“Does that mean that it’s illegal?”

“Not at all” Crack shook his head. “It’s just sourced from foreign suppliers; zebras mostly.”

“So…where did you get yours then?” Inquired Aureate.

“I’m not sure where mine originated, but it was given to me by some friends.”

“And I suppose you have a box- ah… jar of this stuff hidden away somewhere?” Light Paw said wryly as she eyed Larder.

“You have not, because you do not ask” Larder replied cryptically.

“Again. What does it have to do with Lieschter?”

“Think of your initial reaction when I pulled it out and showed you. It nearly drove you mad with desire. Of course, like any shiny object any mature and/or sane individual would dismiss that immediately.”

Both Aureate and Light Paw nodded slowly.

“But…” Crack continued “quicksilver is different. Downright cruel actually. It suits one’s deepest muse. You believe you’ll never get tired of looking at it. It tricks you in the most cruel way as it flows. Your mind can’t focus in on any one portion of its beauty. I’ve seen grown adults chase a speck across the floor only to cry when it disappears into a crack. Just think, how would you have reacted if I’d uncapped my phial and poured the contents on the ground how would you have reacted?”

“You don’t have to ask” Light Paw replied.

“And it’s precisely the reason that they’re keeping Lieschter locked up” Larder finished for Crack. “There are likely those in the Guild who plant to draw out any of Aureate Solarclaw’s allies, perhaps even herself, before we’re ready for that.”

“How?”

“By pouring, so to speak, your best friend all over the ground.”

“Basically,” Crack continued “a quicksilver is intended to make you look like a fool in a very public way. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. They're hoping that you'll take some kind of illicit action in your desperation.”

“And it’s precisely that reason” Larder shot an accusatory glare at Light Paw “I asked you not to go near him if it could be avoided.”

“I’ll have you know that I’ve been following your advice” retorted Light Paw. “I’m hiring Crack to ‘go near’ Lieschter. We may need him in the near future, and if nothing else it’ll just make those pretentious, pompous, and overly-fed maistros and matriarchs to be put-out in a way they’re not used to dealing with.”

Larder was quiet for a moment before speaking.

“While I support what you’re lobbying for, I have to stress the need for us to coordinate fully.”

Light Paw smirked back at him, apparently knowing that she’d just won the argument.

“Just what do you think this barrister can do for us?” Larder asked. “Because as it stands, he’s part of this tapestry whether he likes it or not.”

Crack nodded his head while almost glowering back at Light Paw.

“What?” she returned. “You said you wanted full-disclosure if you were going to help Lieschter dodge that nuptial contract. Well, here you are!”

“I already know that I’m not getting full disclosure about whatever game you’re all playing here, and I don’t really want to know what she” he pointed back at Aureate “did or did not do to earn such a predicament. I may not be a master of intrigue, but I know enough to conclude that you don’t go head-to-head with the Guild for one sorry little pack beta, no matter how sad his estate might be!”

The words pricked Aureate like one of Lieschter’s errant blow darts. He was correct. All this, and who knew what else, was because of her. She stared back at him blankly as he continued.

“I can almost certainly guarantee that unshackling Lieschter from a mere marriage contract won’t solve Aureate’s long-term problems. It may actually create more The Guild has a long memory, especially for their grudges. You might succeed in helping both of them climb out of the pit that’s been dug for them, but there’s bound to be another in the near future; one that might even be big enough for all of you.”

Crack stopped to catch his breath and grabbed a few items from the serving dish. Larder broke the silence a moment later.

“You are correct that any victory might only be a reprieve, but I’m counting on her uncle to protect her as soon as it becomes politically… permissible.”

“That could work, but it would take a significant amount of clout to achieve” Crack nodded, speaking between bites. “I may not be too keen on learning too much but I suppose I would like to know just who her uncle is.”

“Crownwing” Light Paw stated matter-of-factly.

Crack dropped the piece of cheese he was about consume.

“Crownwing? As in…?”

“As in the Protector of the Skyfire Confederacy of Free Dens and Lord over Deep Harbor!” Aureate replied with a hint of frustration.

Crack looked like he was going to be sick. After a moment he sighed, bowing his head.

“Suddenly this all makes too much sense. I’ll excuse myself if you don’t mind.”

He stood to go but Larder rose from his seat and moved to block his path. Light Paw also rose and could be seen leaning towards the door.

“Out of my way!”

“We can’t let you leave just yet” Larder replied.

“So then, I’m a prisoner? All because I know too much?”

Larder seemed apologetic. His expression turned conciliatory.

“Please sit back down again, and let me make it up to you.”

The two stared at each other for what seemed like ages, but Crack sighed and sat back down eventually. Larder and Light Paw followed suit.

“Now…” Larder began “Your involvement, through Light Paw’s overreach and her inability to keep her mouth shut,” he shot an irritated look at the griffoness as he spoke, “may be a blessing is disguise. While it’s true that I wouldn’t have brought you into this willingly, I think that your services in dealing with our jailed associate’s plight could be beneficial. Call it a miscalculation, but I’d underestimated the general disdain that the local Stone-Nation ‘puritans,’ for lack of a better word, had for him.”

“Then…” Crack began. “Then you don’t intend to have me fight your other battle? This latest attack on Crownwing?”

“Crownwing?!” Aureate blurted out in surprise. “ As much as I may care about what’s being leveled at my uncle, I’m the one hiding in a black-marketeer’s basement here!”

Crack rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“If you haven’t figured out what’s really going on here the way I was just able to then you’re either dense or you’re in denial! This whole song and dance is political! Why do you think that the Guild would suddenly care about ‘justice.’ This is a political attack on a personal level that’s aimed at your uncle. Now as I said, I have no Idea what it is that you did or didn’t do recently, or whatever this ‘Artifice’ thing is, and I think it might become toxic for me if I found out much more, but I’ll wager a guess that the Guild, which for all intents and purposes exists above the law, doesn’t care too much about making you suffer. What they really want is to blackmail your uncle after they’ve got you dead-to-rights in a kangaroo-court!”

“Oh but don’t underestimate the Guild’s thirst for vengeance” Larder responded. “While most dens have their own flavor of the Guild, out here in Stone Nation they tend to rather vindictive, and they’re no-doubt still seething over what Aureate Solarclaw recently deprived them of.”

“And just what ‘flavor’ do they have in the Dawn Imperium?” Inquired Crack “It must be very bitter. I can hear the loathing in your tone. Just what role do they play in your country?”

“Enough” interrupted Aureate. “I am being used then. But…” she fixed Crack in her gaze. “Let me be clear. I am not in denial. I’m just low on information at the moment, and I don’t need the likes of some Shore-Nation character to sit there and evaluate me. Either agree to help my best friend or get out!”

Larder opened his beak to say something, but Aureate cut him off.

“I don’t care about him exposing our little subterfuge or whatever it deserves to be called, and neither should you. Because if he doesn’t help Lieschter I’ve got half a mind to do something very rash! That's what this 'quicksilver' stategy is all about isn't it? To make me look foolish? I’ll head out of that door and demand his release in person! So there!”

“Do you even know what they’d do to you?!” Light Paw said with alarm.

“From what I’ve garnered, nothing. There’s no valid warrant against me thanks in part to your efforts. You two have already managed to defeat their most convincing pieces of evidence. That was brilliant by the way. You’ve sowed enough confusion to turn any audit hearing into a hopeless muddle.”

“You know that they won’t just give up that easily.” Larder shot back. “I actually like the idea of our friend here turning Lieschter’s plight into a popular struggle of sorts. You know, the kind that garners town criers a healthy following. You see if they can’t have you then they’ll just try to make life hard for your friend out of spite. If Crack makes a fight against the marriage contract a public spectacle and, just incidentally, makes Lieschter a sympathetic figure-”

“And a distraction” added Light Paw.

“True, but that’s only part of it. You see when the public starts looking for a culprit of the injustice all we’ll need to do is give them one.

“The Guild?”

“Yes. After all, we all know it’s them and their cronies anyway, but when that happens they’ll have no choice but to cut their losses and just let their puppets take the fall. And when that happens,” the corners of Larder’s beak widened in a devious and satisfied grin “who on earth would take them seriously if they try to bring up their nonsensical and confused narrative about Aureate and the Artifice.”

The rest of them looked back at Larder incredulously. He simply sat back and pulled out his tobacco pouch.

“Never have I head a more contrived plan” Crack said shaking his head. “If I didn’t know any better, and I don’t by the way, I’d say that you made up most of that in the last few minutes. Am I correct?”

Larder shrugged as he trimmed his smoke.

“Your partially correct. I’d considered certain elements before you arrived, but I’d thrown them out for one reason or another. However, Light Paw’s bringing you into our little cabal has made me reconsider a few details.”

“Well” began Crack “there are parts of your plan I like, but the biggest problem you’ve got is the fact that I haven’t agreed to participate yet.”

Aureate and Light Paw both burst out laughing. Though, Larder’s self-satisfied smirk never wavered.

“But you will” he replied simply.

“I came here not to fight the Guild, I’m getting tired of that word by the way, but for other reasons entirely. It most certainly wasn’t to participate in whatever personal vendetta you’ve got against them. Now, I agreed to dismantle a marriage contract at Light Paw’s request because she might’ve turned me away at the gate if I’d refused to offer my services. Which…” he looked squarely at Larder. “Which brings me to why I allowed her to bring me to see you. I require payment for my services. My question now is, can you afford my price?”

“And you ‘price’ is?”

“There’s a valley several leagues east of here. I believe you call it ‘Triad?’ is that right?”

Aureate nodded slowly as thoughts of what had happened there to begin her current predicament came flooding back.

“So... what about it?”

“I need it devoid of all attention for a certain span of days.”

After having laid their cards on the table several times throughout their earlier conversation, Aureate had thought she wouldn’t be surprised anymore. She was wrong Even Larder appeared stunned at the sheer audacity of the request.

“Well you’re not asking much” Larder replied with sarcasm seeping through. “Dare I ask why?”

“You may ask, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll answer.”

The room was silent for several moments. Larder, not surprisingly, broke the silence.

“I can do that” he said simply.

“You can?!” the three of them said in unison; all equally astonished.

Larder, now acting as though Crack’s request was the most natural thing in the world, calmly lit his tobacco on the table’s oil lamp.

“I will of course need some time to fully orchestrate your request. Not too long, but in return I’ll need your assurance that you’ll pursue our matters here to the best of your ability, and… that you’ll accept whatever unforeseen consequences that may come as a result. Oh, also, I’m afraid that you may end up learning more about Aureate Solarclaw’s predicament than you’d care to. It’s just inevitable. Can you cope with all that?”

Crack eventually nodded his agreement.

Little more was said that evening and the four of them did their best to avoid the heavier topics of conversation. They sipped their host’s wine and traded songs and stories before Light Paw and Crack excused themselves.

****** Out Too Far ******

The air was warm but at the same time filled with refreshing trade-winds that characterized this portion of the world. The days here were long and bright while the nights seemed longer and brighter still. There was real joy in the island harbor town that occupied the cay. It permeated the air much like the salt from the beautiful blue waters that surrounded the coral atolls. The mariners who stopped off here, both Equestrian and Zebra alike, wrote songs of the water’s beauty, but they could scarcely find the proper words to describe the land. This island, just far enough from land to be considered distant, truly deserved the title of “Royal Signet”; the jewel that had to be kissed before proceeding into the Equine-Controlled trade routes.

All of that may have been true once upon a time. Perhaps back when Nakaru Cay’s name actually meant something to the inhabitants. In actuality, the “joy” came from the tariff money that was leveled against the fat merchants that sailed in from zebra-controlled waters. All traders that passed through this corridor that was just off the continent’s “Southern Horn,” as it was called, had to submit to inspection and subsequent taxation. Though it was possible to bypass the checkpoint, it would be impossible to offload any goods on the legitimate market without a signed and sealed commerce letter. A letter that could only be granted by a customs chamberlain upon passing an inspection and then paying the allotted duties.

There were of course understandably legitimate reasons for regulating the trade routes in this manner. Most of them made sense, but one of the stranger caveats was to supposedly make piracy unprofitable. Ironically, this was openly mocked by pirate gangs who’d discovered that simply hoisting false colors and accepting tariff payments under false pretenses was a far easier and tidy method than more-traditional violent ones.

While the system that operated out of Nakaru Cay had its flaws, it was still a prosperous center of commerce for everyone, both equine and zebra, who called it home. Goods from throughout the known world poured through this hub of commerce. The local taverns served up choice imported wines and ales. Foreign music made landfall regularly and the sounds mixed with the beauty of the surroundings. Talented bards could make a comfortable living from tips alone.

Then there were the local industries dedicated to processing the exotic fruits and grains that arrived. Windmills, for grain and nut-flour production, were a familiar sight. They dotted the white-sand shores as well as the tops of the foliage-covered inland hill crests. Because of their ubiquitous nature, no one considered it strange that close to two years prior another one had been constructed. From the outside it looked as though it were any other grain-mill, but if anyone were to observe it for any length of time they would come to a very odd conclusion. This mill, despite its blades turning in the wind like the rest of its brethren, had never actually produced a single bag of product.

*** ***

One after the other the troupe of filly’s and colts, of whom Skelter was one, raced past the daydreaming sentry as they exited the busy marketplace. They left nothing but hoof-prints in the soft earth and a very irate pair of shopkeepers. The shouting behind them jolted their final obstacle from his thoughts, but even if he’d been fully awake he would’ve been hard-pressed to corral no less than ten of the town’s misbehaving foals.

He tried, though. Diving into their path he missed the first two; a pair of earths. He would’ve run after them if he hadn’t had three young pegasi to contend with next. After having the young-wings boost themselves beyond his telekinesis he gave up, and let the rest of them, a pair of zebras and three unicorns, past without a fight. Seconds later the two merchants gave up too and stopped by his side. The gang had won again; much to the chagrin of the local commerce council.

“I know who your families are!” one shouted back.

Skelter paused and stuck out his tongue; as did a few of his peers. They commenced running again promptly. Though they knew they were no longer being followed, they still had to make sure. They jumped onto the crest of the street-side stone wall and effortlessly danced their way between buildings; just out of reach of any pursuing adults. They laughed as they shouted jokes about the owners of the tea pavilions they’d just collapsed, with their patrons inside.

Gradually the buildings round them thinned out and they realized they’d reached the outskirts of the town. Up next windmill blades swooshed their way through the notches cut for them in the wall. This had to be the most frightening challenge that Skelter’s new playmates had pushed him into. The windmill turrets would be rotated to face the wind or they might be braked if they weren’t in use. Thus, there wasn’t any regularity from day to day that could be memorized to help you avoid the blades when making your way along the length of the wall, but to pause and think was seen as weakness.

Skelter galloped full-bore towards the first gap. He cleared it and felt the puff of air blow his tail about as the blade came down where he’d just been. He could hear others as they jumped behind him. He turned his head and looked briefly as they followed. He almost regretted that as the upcoming blade grazed his muzzle causing him to yelp in pain. He brushed it off a second later and continued hopping over the gaps as they came, but moments later a terrified squeal signaled a new problem. Skelter looked over his shoulder again but didn’t see anything. He then realized that everyone else was looking up. He looked too and could see a terrified pegasus filly clinging to the windmill blade that she’d collided with while jumping. It seemed almost amusing as the great construct lifted her into the air like some great-angry beast of the sea.

“Don’t let go Maroon!” yelled Tok; one of the zebras.

“Actually…” Skelter shouted. “Let go when you get to the top. Use your wings on the way down!”

Whether Maroon heard him, or she just lost her grip when the blade reached the apex, Skelter wasn’t sure, but she did just as he’d suggested. She fluttered down as slowly as she could, her still-juvenile wings fluttering so fast that they blurred. Instead of landing on the wall she drifted off to the side and landed in an empty cart in the back lot of one of the mill sites. She was breathing heavily when the rest of then jumped down from the wall to see if she was alright. She was clearly exhausted and dazed from her experience but otherwise unharmed.

“That was amazing!” shouted Maroon’s brother Whisk. “I want to do that too!”

“This isn’t exactly the place” Tok interrupted.

“Stop being a downer!” Whisk shot back and seemed prepared to spring upward and grab hold of the next blade he came into contact with.

“If you haven’t noticed where we are, this is Mr. Midnight’s mill-yard we’re all standing in!”

Everyone fell silent as they realized that their friend was right.

“So?” Skelter broke the silence. “It just looks like any other mill.”

“That’s because you don’t know anything about him yet” Whisk retorted. “He’s the meanest and scariest stallion in town. That’s why nobody talks to him.”

It was true that Skelter hadn’t lived in Nakaru for very long. His father, being a government commerce minister, would move between a new posting every few months to a year. In fact, Skelter never really lived anywhere long enough to truly get to know anyone around him. It was probably the reason that he’d stopped paying attention to those he didn’t know well. He also blamed this lack of stability for his still being a blank-flank.

“Midnight…?” Skelter said scratching his head. “Who’s he again?”

“We told you about him” came Tok’s exasperated reply. “He’s that stern old unicorn that never talks to anyone else.”

“And my father says we receive shipments for him from all over” Chimed in another zebra by the name of Prog. “Some of them are from the Griffon Confederacy.”

“So what” Skelter said dismissively. “My father says that lots of the goods we get through here originate from griffon lands, but nobody can prove it. He is a duly-appointed chamberlain after all. Besides, has anybody here actually ever seen Midnight being mean to anyone else?”

One by one everyone shook their heads slowly.

“So it’s all just hear-say” Skelter said with thinly-veiled satisfaction in his voice.

Skelter was enjoying himself now. Here was the first group of fillies and colts who’d been willing to invite him in since he could remember. Of course, he knew it wasn’t out of altruism. They’d wanted his family’s status to shelter them, and also to share a few luxuries here and there. Things like honey-pickled peaches or iced-cream; a confection that was almost unheard of in this palm tree-infested part of the world. They also seemed struck by his accent and diction.

“It’s all just speculation. Maybe we should just knock on his door and talk to him.”

“No!” cried a unicorn by the name of Doppler. “If you cross his door’s threshold you’ll never come back!”

“More of this?” Skelter rolled his eyes. “And I suppose you’ve seen- ah experienced something to make you believe that. Hmm?”

Unlike the rest of them, Doppler actually looked as though he were truly terrified of something. His eyes darted back and forth, looking at his friends. When he finally spoke it wasn’t what Skelter had expected.

“He doesn’t want us near his mill.”

No one could have been surprised by the sheer spectrum of different types of laughter which rose, crested, broke, and then eventually ebbed; leaving Doppler an embarrassed wreck.

“He yelled at me to get away from his cart while he was backing it into those double doors over there!” Doppler fairly screamed back at his playmates as he wiped tears of anger from his eyes.

“It’s never nice to get yelled at…” began Skelter; a little ashamed of himself for laughing too. “But what does that prove?”

“His storage-wing used to make strange noises. He must have something in there that he doesn’t want anyone to see; something that even he’s afraid of.”

“And what would that be?” Whisk asked, clearly unable to hide his amusement.

“A monster” Doppler almost whispered with a mixture of fear and shame for what was sure to follow.

Next, more laughter, but not as bad this time.

“Alright…” Tok was one of the first to recover though his gut still seemed to be spasming as he spoke. “Not everyone has a such a vivid imagination like Doppler here-”

“Coming from someone who doesn’t even know the meaning of that word” interrupted Prog.

“What? ‘Vivid?’”

“No. ‘Imagination.’”

The rest of the assembled snicked at Prog’s joke, but Tok just tried to pretend it hadn’t happened.

“What I’m trying to say is that we don’t all have to believe foals’ stories like Doppler does to know that Mr. Midnight should be left alone. My mother says to stay away from him because he’s probably some criminal who makes illegal rum.”

“My parents say that he uses that mill to make eastern black fire powder,” added an earth filly named Three Square “and that if he thinks he’s in danger of being caught he’ll just drop a torch on it and get blown to smitherines!”

“Look!” Skelter could hardly contain himself. “These are all just things your parents tell you so that you’ll stay away! There’s no rhyme or reason to them at all!”

Up to this point Skelter had behaved the most sensibly of all his friends, but moments later he departed from his usual sensibility with what he said next.

“I’ve got half a mind to prove my point to all of you by heading inside that mill over there and coming back with the truth about whatever’s actually inside!”

Skelter’s playmates were stunned at the sheer audacity of his statement, but none was more stunned than Skelter, because he knew that there was no way out of what he’d just said.

*** ***

Skelter looked back to see his playmates retreat a “safe” distance from the mill he was about to break into. It just then occurred to him that he would be breaking the law. It wasn’t like anything would ever be done to him, though. Here he’d been pleasantly surprised to find that the locals around Nakuru seemed to tolerate far more from younger colts and fillies like himself. Yet, that didn’t stop mothers and fathers from practically wearing a bald spot on the rump of a disobedient foal! Skelter wasn’t sure what might end up being worse, receiving a whipping in the woodshed and nothing but course oats and water for a week, or knowing that the gang would have something on him. Still, Skelter almost smiled in spite of himself. He was probably through proving himself now; or soon would be.

He turned to face the mill’s storage wing. Skelter could tell after staring at it for what felt like forever, that his friends were right about one thing. It hadn’t been opened up in a while. He could tell by how the dirt and weeds directly in from of the large double doors were undisturbed. There was a large padlock holding fast a heavy-looking iron bar that spanned their width, holding them shut. That clearly wasn’t the way to enter. He next turned his attention to a stone-lined drainage culvert that ran along the length of the building, just below the foundation, but not only was it filled with a disgusting-looking black muck, none of the openings from the building were large enough for him to fit through. Maybe some years ago he would’ve been able to manage it.

He eventually set his sights on a rooftop panel that, from the ground at least, looked as though it might lift up from the inside to allow for fresh air. Skelter had been told once that mills, especially those producing confectioner’s flour, could be dangerous if the dust became too thick in the air.

“Yes” he thought to himself. “That’s my way in.”

He was strategizing how best to make his way up when he realized someone was approaching from behind. He whirled around to see Three Square coming up from behind. Skelter exhaled with a mixture of relief an annoyance.

“What do you want?!”

“I’m going with you” the earth filly replied simply.

“What?”

“I said that I’m going with you.”

“Why? I thought the rest of you were all just too scared to come.”

She shook her head.

“Firstly, I’m curious too. Second, I’ll be the bravest filly in town if I do this with you. Finally, I think that what you’re really afraid of right now is this just being some setup where we all just dare you to do something stupid and then we run off and tell the grown-ups.”

Skelter nodded slowly. He had thought of that but tried to push it to the back of his mind.

“Don’t worry” the filly continued trying to sound cheerful. “We like you too much to do that.”

Skelter smiled back, responding to Three Square’s act in-kind, but He could tell how nervous she was. Her forelegs were quivering.

“So…” he began “any ideas how to-?”

“The wall” Three Square interrupted.
“Huh?”

“The wall” she repeated. “We’ll straddle the ledge where it tees off from the main one that we all walked in here on.”

Skelter looked and realized she was correct, but the trouble was the drop. If they missed when trying to jump or slipped off of the tiles when landing on the roof, it would mean a great deal of cuts and bruises, or worse. Though, moments later their hooves clattered on the clay roof tiles. Skelter examined the one his right foreleg had contacted. It had cracked, but he decided not to say anything. After all, a cracked tile would be the least of his worries if he and Three Square were caught.

They both looked at each other nervously; both wearing an expression that read “Let’s just get this over with.” They nodded to each other and picked their way up towards the peak of the rooftop where they stood gazing down at the rest of their playmates. They were greeted by much similar expressions to their own. A few of the fillies, as well as Doppler, seemed genuinely panicked; almost as though a ghost-story were being recounted.

“Well, just get on with it!” yelled Whisk. “You won’t have all day!”

Skelter shot him a dirty look and turned his attention towards the panel they intended to enter through. As he’d thought, it was hinged on the top end. In fact it almost resembled a ship’s deck hatch, but this one had the square-shaped holes filled in with chunks of course glass; probably from a local artisan’s rejects.

Three square was poking and tugging at the lower end trying to get it to move. Skelter shook his head and lowered his horn towards where he believed the latch or bar might be. Over the next several moments he sweated as the weak field of his untrained horn fumbled with whatever was holding the hatch fast-shut. He was about to give up when it sprung upward unexpectedly. Three Square leapt to one side. A good thing too. If she hadn’t it might’ve hit her under her muzzle. They both looked down to see nothing more than the floorboards of a loft. Three Square jumped down through the opening without hesitation. Not wanting to be upstaged, Skelter jumped in after her.

As their eyes adjusted they saw nothing that spoke to anything nefarious as the stories about Midnight had suggested. The loft was clearly his sleeping quarters. There was a bed, a small table next to it, and a chamber pot. Opposite was what appeared to be a wardrobe which stood next to a writing desk and bookcase. At the far end there were various clay pots and sacks that obviously contained foodstuffs.

The presence of writing implements and books piqued Skelter's interest. Though not unheard of, were certainly uncommon. It spoke to a level of sophistication that out here wasn't exactly expected. Of course, he himself was literate. Skelter's father worked for a government commerce ministry after all so he'd had the means to educate his children. Yet Three Square on the other hoof, was as common as they came. She might never get the chance to become literate. The same could be said for the rest of their playmates with the exception of Tok and Prog; Zebra families had their own literacy traditions. However, this revelation made Skelter wonder just where Midnight was from and what he was doing living in a place like this.

At that moment Skelter almost felt ashamed. They’d just done something egregiously wrong, and all on a dare too! He turned to his cohort and was about to suggest to her that they leave, since they’d essentially done what they said they’d do, when his ears perked as they detected a strange sound. He looked at Three Square and could tell she heard it too.

From below the loft’s floorboards there came a strange faint droning peal. The only way to rightly describe it was a whining or buzzing noise; like that of an insect. Yet, this was unlike any insect Skelter had ever heard. The tambre was rough and harsh, and instead of changing pitch frequently like a honeybee or a fly, as they flitted around the room, this seemingly had no end. It was otherworldly, as though the sound was being held in time.

The two foals looked at each other; each hoping that the other had some answer. Eventually, Skelter just shook his head to indicate that he had no clue. Three Square seemed disappointed, but Skelter could see curiosity creeping back into her eyes. The same feelings could be said of himself.

“Well?” inquired the filly, almost in a whisper. “Don’t you want to know what it is too?”

Skelter though for a moment. He still felt shame for encroaching on Mr. Midnight’s private residence. Despite this, curiosity soon won out.

“Yes” he answered, nodding back at Three Square.

They made their way over to the far end of the loft where hung a crudely-made wooden door. Skelter took the latch in his teeth and tugged. It swung open noiselessly revealing a set of stairs that hugged the stone wall of the building. They began making their way down the steps cautiously. The sound was louder now. It had an almost piercing quality to it.

As they made their way down to ground level it was difficult to see, on account of the low light. A few slivers of daylight worked their way through a set of closed-up wooden shutters in the building’s western wall. As their eyes adjusted further, the two of them could discern objects hung from the rafters overhead and larger shapes that sat on, or appeared to be coming up out of, the floor.

Skelter was squinting, trying to employ a technique his father had taught him for reading in low light, when suddenly the room was flooded in light. He jumped as the light was accompanied with what at the time seemed like a deafening crash! Though, the magnitude of the sound was likely colored by his own nervousness. Skelter could see that the shutters had just folded open. He turned to see Three Square standing not too far away with a wooden peg in her mouth. He breathed a sigh of relief but shot her an annoyed glance.

“Tell me when you’re going to do something like tha-…!”

He stopped mid-sentence as he realized he could now see clearly the contents of the room, and they were truly strange to say the least.

The pair found themselves standing on a dirt floor in what Skelter could only describe as some kind of artificial jungle. Suspended overhead was a network of metal bars that he recognized immediately as copper. They crisscrossed throughout the room like a maze, but they all seemed to come through an opening in the far wall, that he guessed was where the windmill’s inner workings were kept, but they led to an equally strange-looking assemblage of ceramic pots in the center of the room. Throughout their somewhat circuitous route to or from the pots they passed through various smaller pots, boxes, or what could only be described as clockwork-infested contraptions.

“What is it all?” whispered Three Square; her voice seeming to falter.

“I… I don’t know?” he answered after a pause.

He swallowed hard. He was now convinced that coming inside here was a mistake. Not just because they were trespassing, but also because the two of them knew without doubt that Midnight clearly had been keeping a secret of sorts hidden inside his mill. Yet even after seeing it, neither Skelter nor his companion had any inkling of what it even was. It was because of this that he knew he had to keep looking, even while another part of him screamed for him to quit while he was ahead.

He soon found himself examining a large wooden box that had been mounted on the far wall next to what looked like a workbench of some kind. It was from this that the strange hum emanated. Several smaller copper rods entered the top. They were bare copper, just like the rest, until they extended below a red line that was painted on the wall above. As they crossed below it they were wrapped in what looked like marine rope and then doused in what had to be beeswax.

The box itself actually seemed to smell very nice. Its aroma was that of cedar wood mixed with the scent of beeswax, and the warmth that also emanated from it likely enhanced the pleasing odor. As he pressed his ear against it, Skelter could not only hear the sound more clearly, but he could feel it as well. It almost felt as though something inside was alive.

He stood back and further scrutinized the strange thing they’d discovered. At this point his trepidation had been largely replaced by insatiable curiosity. Even Three Square appeared to be letting her own curiosity take over. She too put her ear to the box and listened before turning to Skelter with a confused look.

“Is that what a beehive sounds like?”

“I have no idea” he replied. “But, my father says that some kinds of machines can make noises on their own. He once told me about a kind of clock that chirps like a bird.”

“Why?”

“To mark the hour and the half-hour.”

“Is this a machine then? Is it telling time then also?”

Skelter just shook his head to indicate that he didn’t know. He panned his gaze around the room taking in the plethora of bizarre objects again.

“What is it that Midnight does here?” he mused. “Midnight!” he realized with a jolt.

The stallion wouldn’t be gone forever, and just how long had the two of them been inside here? Their friends were probably growing restless too! He turned back towards his filly companion to find her staring at something on a nearby table. It was an open codex of some kind. It featured some kind of sketch consisting of a network of colored lines and various symbols that made no sense.

“This is kind of pretty” Three Square commented. “Even if it doesn’t make any sense.”

Skelter was about to suggest that they both exercise cowardice, or whatever the better part of valor was, when something truly unexpected happened.

The humming-buzzing noise that had lured them both to their present location ceased and was replaced by a rapid clicking sound. They both stared at the box for what seemed an age as though they expected something to happen. They weren’t disappointed, but what took place next was almost overwhelming.

“Klunk! Klunk!” it seemed to almost bark at them as several barely discernible flashes of blue light shone through small holes cut on each side. Elsewhere throughout the large room other boxes also made similar noises; producing a terrifying cacophony. The machines were alive! Skelter concluded. They’d been brought to life by some unholy power! Midnight must be some kind of dark wizard after all! It was all true! All of it!

****** Distant Voices ******

“All of you hurry up and get hitched!” Penny called out to her team. “We’re about to interface!”

Dozens of muffled hoofsteps clattered throughout the entire length of the ballroom as Penny’s drafters scampered to their positions on the glass floor. She couldn’t help but smile with amusement as some of them slid a bit past their marks due to the cloth shoe-covers over their hooves. Once assembled she tugged the lever to lower their drafting hitches into place.

“Perfect” she thought to herself.

What luck that Charlie had agreed to let her finish the leg of the survey they’d been on before being interrupted. This at least would allow them to track the land’s topology into what she believed to be the Triad Valley. From there it might simply be a matter of extrapolating the contours of the surrounding landscape. That alone, might be worth enough to make up for the time lost by what she still feared might be a waste of time. She had every reason to trust Charlie, Crack also, but she was less sure that the adventure they were now on was little more than the product of an injured unicorn’s hallucinations.

She shook her head and peered through the dorsal-periscope’s eyepieces and smiled with satisfaction upon recognizing some of the characteristics of the land below. Though, this was good it might not be sufficient. One valley often looked nearly identical to another one that was just a ridge over. She glanced at the compass needle on the nearby pedestal and saw with satisfaction that the Amerigo appeared to be on the appropriate bearing.

Nearby, the pointer of the barometric altimeter also showed they’d achieved their target altitude. The ship had finally finished its arduous climb; inching its way back up into the sky at a snail’s pace. Though the shroud’s accumulators had been refilled with clouds, she’d been able to convince Charlie, Turner, and even Headwind to delay fully shrouding the Amerigo until their first drafting run, or “dance,” had been successfully completed. They had to regain their last position beyond a shadow of a doubt. That was the trouble with trying to chart something that had never been cataloged like this before. Most of the land below was altogether unknown. For this they would need to rely on something unconventional.

“Has the Bridge reported back yet?” she asked the jay-talker.

When she received no immediate response she turned in annoyance, and saw the mare staring off into space. Penny rolled her eyes. Maybe it had been a mistake to accept Ripple into her team while conducting such a critical exercise, but Charlie and Turner had asked her personally. She’d wondered if it was an unspoken condition of allowing her team their current chance.

“Jay-talker. Ripple!” she barked.

Ripple immediately snapped to attention.

“No Mam! I haven’t gotten a message from the bridge about the Nakuru crier.”

Penny nodded in acknowledgment.

“You know… I didn’t put you there just so you could stand there and day dream.”

“I- I’m sorry. I’m trying, but I’ve never done this before.”

“Never used the jay? I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh, I’ve used the jay plenty of times. It’s just not as clear in this hull section. I’m trying to figure out who’s saying what.”

“It’s clearer on the Platform?” Penny asked.

Ripple nodded back.

“I’ll do better next time. I’d rather be back at my old job, but Copper Lance and Kearn don’t think that’s a good idea this soon after the accident.”

“From what I’m told,” began Penny, “you’re the one who caused the ‘accident’ as you say.”

“Ah-. Y-yes” she stammered. “If you’d rather I wasn’t here because of that then-”

“Calm down please” Penny interrupted. “I’m not the Harmonic Elements. So you needn’t worry about poking another bear like that while you’re under my auspices. By the way, do you know when Kearn will want you back?

Ripple shook her head.

“I don’t even know if he wants me back. Maybe when my horn gets better.”

Penny nodded.

“Well, it’s not so bad working for me. Just show up on time and do what’s expected of you. When it gets better maybe you can try your horn in the cartographer’s shop. How’s it been feeling lately?” She gestured to the bandage-wrapped protrusion in the center of the mare’s forehead.

Penny was fully aware of just how pointless it was for an earth like herself to ask a unicorn how their horn was feeling when she had no basis for comparison. Still, she remembered from her fillyhood that she’d often imagined how it might feel to have one; wings too on occasion. Ripple just shook her head at the question.

“It… It feels like I don’t have one” she replied slowly. “Like there’s a hole in my head. Does that make sense?”

“Maybe” Penny shrugged. “I’d have to think about that for a bit. Do Copper Lance and Salt have anything planned yet? Some kind of medicine or surgery for… you know.”

Ripple shook her head again.

“I- I’m scared that I won’t get it back. It’s also Ironic that something I can’t feel at all has become the most sensitive part of my body. I’m also afraid that my… my ordeal did other things. Copper Lance, Salt and even Turner aren’t saying anything to that effect, but I think it’s clear that they are too.”
Penny was about to ask Ripple what she meant by that when the mare snapped to attention and put her hoof to jay-set earpiece she was wearing.

“Nakuru-Spark. Received at 10,000. 202 bearing. Message acknowledged” she answered back into the speech-bell that was hung around her neck before looking up at Penny. “That was the bridge they just said that-”

“I got it” said Penny as she was already rushing back to her desk. She took a pencil in her teeth and jotted down some quick figures. Seconds later she grinned with satisfaction. Before looking up and out across the ballroom at her "dancers," all ready to commit the terrain below to permanent record with their own dance steps.

“I was right. I have our position. We’re just a few clicks out from the pickup point. I’d say ten minutes. So, has anyone decided what they’d like to dance to? What’s the ground down there look like today?”

“I think it’s a waltz” a stallion piped up.

“I’d say a tango actually” contradicted a mare.

“We need something with a quick tempo but very energetic” another stallion added. “I vote for ‘Dis-Ko’ or whatever it’s called.”

Penny thought for a moment before deciding. She didn’t particularly care for much of Charlie’s types of music. Though, some varieties, mostly instrumental, had grown on her. In this case it might be the right call. She turned to Ripple.

“Send to the bridge. Keep the wire-ears trained in Nakuru’s direction and have them report if the cry’s quality drops for any reason. Also, tell them we need to hear something by…” she racked her brain trying to remember how to pronounce the strange name. “Walter Murphy.”

“What song?” Ripple inquired.

“The one called ‘A Fifth-of Beethoven’.”

*** ***

Both Skelter and Three Square had instinctively dropped to the ground. The pair shut their eyes tight, held their hooves to their ears, and waited for the room’s contents to mete out whatever punishment the two trespassers deserved. Moments later though, the noise ceased.

Skelter opened his eyes cautiously. The room looked just as it had before. He picked himself off the dirt floor, still shaking. Three Square did the same. The two panted in short gasps as they gazed around in bewilderment. There still were strange noises, but they seemed to emanate from elsewhere in the mill. Skelter could just make out, though an opening in the far wall, that the mill itself had begun turning that very moment. But who…? No, what had started it? And what was the strange chirping noise coming from behind an adjacent door?

Skelter opened his eyes cautiously. The room looked just as it had before. He picked himself off the dirt floor, still shaking. Three Square did the same. The two panted in short gasps as they gazed around in bewilderment. There still were strange noises, but they seemed to emanate from elsewhere in the mill. Skelter could just make out, though an opening in the far wall, that the mill itself had begun turning that very moment. But who…? No, what had started it? And what was the strange chirping noise coming from behind an adjacent door?

“W- we sh- sh- should leave” Three Square stammered.

Skelter’s curiosity evaporated as he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be afraid.

“Y- yes” he nodded back. “I’ve had enough.”

The both of them had turned back to the staircase they’d used to gain entry when they heard the sound they’d secretly been dreading. Outside of the building’s small exterior door. They both heard the dull jingling of a ring of keys; this followed by the clattering of the door’s bolt mechanism. The pair immediately searched for a place to hide.

As they dashed past the strange pots, Skelter noticed that they were actually much bigger than they appeared at first glance. There were about two-dozen of them, and they stood atop some kind of wooden supporting frame. Their extra height had been concealed because the whole assemblage was sunken into a shallow pit; the bottom covered in sawdust. Both jumped into the narrow gap in between the pots and the sides of the pit and crawled underneath the wooden structure. It was a tight fit, but they were more or less concealed there.

From their hiding place there was little they could do but listen. So listen they did. There was the sound of the exterior door opening and then closing again. Midnight grunted as though he were carrying something heavy. The faint ringing of a telekinetic field, several dull thumps, and grating noises of something being dragged seemed to confirm this.

“Whew” came the stallion’s exhausted sigh. “Well, you’re all doing well in my absence” he cheerfully remarked to the empty room.

Both Skelter and Three Square looked at each other in surprise. He couldn’t know they were there yet. Could he? Or, had someone been there all along?

“You even decided to start on your own like you’re supposed to” he said with satisfaction. “I guess that means I won’t need to tear you apart like I was planning today.”

“Tear?!” Skelter mouthed at Three Square.

“Apart?!” she mouthed back.

The sound of hooves clattering on the wooden walkway that had been constructed around the pit interrupted their thoughts. Skelter looked up through one of the gaps in between the pots and could make out the black-coated stallion’s head as he moved around the apparatus that the foals were hiding underneath. Though, he thankfully still seemed unaware of the two. He seemed to be focused on the intricate mass of metal bars and braided wires that went down into the containers.

“If all of you were actually alive then I’d speak this kind of praise to you more often. Regardless, sunlight must be good for you. Maybe I should forget to close the shutters more often.”

Skelter and Three Square realized with some amount of relief that Midnight was merely thinking out loud. Three Square even grinned and made a ‘crazy’ gesture rotating her forehoof next to her head.

“Well,” Midnight continued with his monologue, “Since we’re running like we’re supposed to, now’s as good a time as any to examine fluid quality.”

Skelter and Three Square could see very little of what Midnight was doing, but from what they could ascertain from the occasional view of him in between the pots, he donned a strange looking hood and face-mask, probably made of silk, with little glass circles over the eye-holes. It looked vaguely like a Royal-Bolt’s mask. Except for the fact that the muzzle end was covered with some kind of thick cloth or maybe a sponge. The stallion’s labored breaths as he drew in air through the membrane could be heard.

Next there was a loud popping noise; as though someone has removed the cork out of a bottle. The sound made both of the foals twitch, but Midnight was humming something to himself as he worked. He appeared now to be using his horn to insert a long glass tube into the top of one of the large pots. Seconds later the tube filled with a clear liquid that had to be coming from inside the pot.

“So…” Skelter silently concluded. “It looks like he does make spirits here. This really is an illegal distillery.”

Midnight withdrew the tube and emptied the contents into a small glass. He appeared to study it for several seconds. Though his face couldn’t be seen, he appeared pleased with what he saw since he grunted with satisfaction and poured it back where it had come from. This action he appeared to be repeating for each of the pots individually; to the same result. On a few he expressed dissatisfaction and would carefully add more of some of the clear mystery liquid from a large clay jug he’d levitated over. All of these actions were executed with precision and efficiency but, on one he appeared to spill a bit. He uttered a muffled curse but moved on to the next pot. Both Skelter and Three Square watched intently until their attention was redirected by something truly unexpected.

The spilled liquid that had run down the side of the pot and was settling on the floor of the pit. What was surprising though, was that wherever it touched the wooden frame that held up the pots, to the place it finally settled in the sawdust, it sizzled and emitted white vapor. What was it? Skelter wondered. He’d heard grown-ups tell jokes about strong drink. But not like this?! The smell stung their nostrils. Skelter waved it away and held back a sneeze in an effort to remain quiet but, Three Square, on the other hoof, wasn’t so lucky.

Her sneeze wasn’t the loudest ever, but it was enough. Midnight’s head pricked up and he immediately stopped what he was doing. His head dropped out of sight and could be heard tearing off his mask and hood. When his face came back into view his expression was one of puzzlement and concern as both his ears swiveled back and forth; trying to pick up another noise.

The two froze in terror. Skelter looked at his companion and could see from her twitching nose and ears that she was going to sneeze again. All he could do was give her a wide-eyed pleading expression, but to no avail.

Her next sneeze was far more powerful and punctuated by a coughing fit provoked by the noxious vapors. Seconds later, the boards of the pit’s circular walkway were being lifted away and a stallion’s frame dropped through the hole that had been made; landing with a soft thud.

Skelter's previous ridicule of just how silly his playmates' fear of Midnight was seemed to mean little when he was staring them down just a few steps away. The intruders found themselves at the mercy of someone who they’d come to believe didn’t understand the meaning of the word. Which is why they were surprised when instead of lunging at them in retaliation for their crime he simply uttered an annoyed groan. He kept staring in disbelief and annoyance for what was probably only a few seconds, but it felt a good deal longer.

“What-!? W-what?! What are you-?!” the stallion stammered. His anger was apparent, but it didn’t seem like malice. “W-Who!? Oh, wait! I know you-two! You’re part of that little band of hooligans who knock over those stalls earlier today. Aren’t you! Now you’re trespassing on private property. What in the world makes you think any of that is permissible?!”

They simply stared back at him, too afraid to answer.

“An adult is speaking to you, now answer me! I assume you’ve got voices?” he growled sarcastically. “You were loud enough earlier today!”

“I ah-… I- I-” Skelter stammered.

“Please don’t hurt us” Three Square said timidly as she looked away trying to avoid eye contact.

Midnight rolled his eyes in frustration. His next choice of words, though perfectly right and true, were perhaps poorly chosen.

“One of the reasons that fillies and colts aren’t supposed to trespass if precisely because they may get hurt! Why on earth do all you little fools think those rules don’t apply to you!? Now come here!”

He stretched out a telekinetic field towards them, but when Three Square whimpered softly Skelter responded by striking Midnight’s horn. The stallion grunted in pain.

“Why you little hellion! I ought to-!” he was interrupted mid sentence as Skelter kicked sawdust into his eyes. The stallion reeled back striking his head on the underside of the walkway. There was a clattering above as several, glass jars, funnels, and the clay jug that Midnight had been using, fell down from where they’d been. The jug rolled to the far side of the pit; all the while spilling its contents.

Midnight wiped the debris from his eyes and seemed prepared to continue his tirade when he stopped. A look of horror replaced the anger in his eyes. As with the earlier spilled liquid, it hissed, bubbled, and emitted white fumes.

“No!” he simply said with mounting panic in his voice. He next turned to the two foals. “Do as I say” he wheezed as the plumes of vapor, much greater than the previous ones, began enveloping all of them. “You need to get out. Please trust me. I’m only trying to help you!”

Skelter was too confused to do anything, but he began to notice that his eyes and nostrils were starting to sting. He was about to sneeze but realized as he did so that it erupted into a horrible coughing fit. He felt as though he were trying to cough up pieces of broken glass. He turned towards Three Square in a panic to see that she was in her own coughing fit. She’d collapsed onto her side and was coughing violently with little bits of greenish foam dribbling from the corners of her mouth and snot coming out of her nostrils. Skelter watched in disbelief as she failed her limbs and her eyes started to roll back into her head. He probably would’ve stayed that way, but seconds later came the sound of the wooden supports snapping. He then felt himself being taken in Midnight’s telekinesis and tossed up and out of the pit.

He got to his hooves quickly and rubbed his eyes. They weren’t burning as much as they had been now that he was out of the pit, but he strained to see. For some reason everything was dim and fuzzy, but he could make out that the pots were all tilting crazily to one side and the white fumes were billowing out of the pit and rolling across the floor in all directions. He could hear other wooden supports as they collapsed, causing the pots to tilt in other directions. They almost resembled a sand castle being dissolved by the incoming tide.

“Three Square! M- Mr. Midnight!” he shouted with sudden realization that they were both still in the pit.

He was about to run towards them again, but a split-second later Midnight shot up from the pit dragging the filly along by her mane; securely clenched in his teeth. He set her down and almost collapsed but steadied himself before turning towards her again.

“Please! Oh please get up little one!” he wheezed as tears dripped from his swollen eyes. He sounded genuinely afraid for her, Skelter thought, but maybe it was just the fumes that were making him cry.

Midnight struck Three Square on her rump. This produced a weak cry from her, and she rolled over onto her stomach. Next, she attempted to open her eyes, but when she couldn’t she reached up with her forehooves.

“Don’t touch them. Keep them closed” Midnight said pushing her hooves away, but His voice was taking on a new quality. It was raspy, almost like an elderly stallion. “Young stallion” he said turning to Skelter, “We need to get your friend out-”

Midnight was interrupted by several popping noises that were accompanied by bright blue and greenish flashes. They both turned to look at the wreck that midnight’s pots had turned into. Their supporting timbers gone, many of them were simply hanging by the copper bars and wires. The suspensions above were slowly buckling under the weight and were shedding their various components. Every time a piece of metal fell and touched between two different bars it erupted in a blue flash and sent sparks flying everywhere. A few had knocked against each other and cracked. They now oozed the mystery liquid. Midnight’s face appeared to alternate between several emotions as he stared at his pots. One surprising expression was anguish. For the first time, Skelter felt sorry for Midnight. Especially after realizing once again that this was, at least partially, his fault. He was about to say he was sorry, for whatever that was worth at the moment, when Midnight’s panicked expression reappeared.

“Run! Out the door! Don’t look at it!” he almost shrieked.

If Skelter had been a bit older he might’ve listened, but his own foalish nature compelled the colt to focus his attention just where he’d been told not to. Just a second was all it took to see one of the large copper bars come free from where it had been mounted in the overhead. When it landed in the center of the rat-king of wires and other copper bars it erupted in a vermilion flash that was far brighter than any lightning bolt touchdown he’d ever seen! This sight was accompanied by a new kind of pain.

“My eyes! My eyes!” he screamed as he dropped to the floor with both of his forehooves covering his face.

“I told you not to look, you little fool!” Midnight snapped at him. “Now come on! We need to get outside before-!”

Midnight never finished his sentence. Skelter’s ears were next assaulted next by a deafening explosion, as if a wine barrel had burst. Seconds later his nose was bitten by the smell of rotten eggs. Dazed, the last thing that he could recall was being pushed into the sunlight and then a whimper as his filly companion was deposited next to him. After that, blackness came.

******* One Little Coin *******

Penny watched her dancers with pride. They hadn’t missed a beat, literally or figuratively. They’d separated into two lines with each moving from one end of the transparency; through which they could view the terrain below. As they danced, their drafting hitches, the strange-looking swinging-arm-like devices they’d been hitched to, translated their physical movements to the several dozen styluses of the central drafting table. Each stylus flitted back and forth as its dancer emphatically made a footfall in time to the music that issued through the newly-replaced ballroom speaker-bells.

Walter Murphy had been a good choice. For its “syncopated” rhythm, Penny had encountered few art forms that could match “Dis-Ko.” A very curious, though at times obnoxious, form of Charlie’s music recordings of the “Sehven-Tees.” Even Ripple, standing beside her, rocked her hooves and bobbed her head involuntarily. That was to say, she did until unexpectedly stopping and staring off into space again. Penny was about to remind the absent-minded mare where her attention was needed when she seemed to come out of it on her own; looking very confused.

“Something you’d like to say?” she inquired.

“Umm. No. It’s nothing. I just-”she was cut off as she clutched her jay earpiece again.

“Message from the bridge” she said looking up with bewilderment in her eyes.

“And?” Penny prompted.

“And it looks like the Nakuru-Spark town-crier just faded out in the middle of its wail. We won’t have any direction confirmation if we lose our place.”

“We can get by without it. We got the bearing at the start, and that's what counts. Besides,” Penny waved her hoof in a reassuring gesture “the Town-Criers do that sometimes” Penny reassured Ripple. “The custodian will fix it as soon as he’s aware. But, you ought to know that. You helped build a few of those. Didn’t you?”

Ripple nodded.

“Then why do you look so disturbed?”

“I’m not worried about the Nakuru crier” she began slowly. “It’s just that before that message came from the bridge…”

“Before…?” Penny prompted again.

“It’ll sound rather implausible, but before the message reached me I could have sworn I knew the Nakuru town-crier had stopped.”

"Without hearing anything about it before?"

"Right" Ripple nodded, but then shook her head as though trying to dismiss her previous statement. "It makes no sense I know-"

"Or" Penny interrupted. "Maybe it's a sign your horn is getting better."

Ripple seemed to ponder the more optimistic theory for a moment before smiling and nodding in agreement.

"Maybe you're right."