Sunder stirred awake, roused by a familiar and often unheard sound: Steorra laughing. He felt groggy, blinking and wiping away the gunk in his eyes, then propped himself up; his old joints cracking. He saw his son absent from his side, and jerked his head forward, again the notes of Steorra’s giggle entered into his ear. There wasn’t an immediate and outright alarm, but he rose to his hooves with a caution, plodding towards his son. He saw near the back the tell tale flickering of candlelight in the dim half of the car, two shadows cast onto the back wall; one large and one small.

“It’s true! I knew The Five, but back then they were six, some ponies would argue seven but she fled down South if I recall…” Sunder heard a mirthful voice speak, and there was something… off, about the cadence of the stallion’s voice that he couldn’t place.

“But somepony told me The Five were alive over a thousand years ago,” he heard Steorra’s voice squeak, almost out of breath from laughing so much. “Nopony could be thousand years old.”

“Of course they can! With a choice and healthy diet, as well as plenty of exercises, anything is possible,” he heard the stallion retort, Steorra laughing at his lively candour.

Sunder looked around the last crate and raised a brow. Steorra sat across from an elderly looking stallion, his beige coat and frayed grey mane making him look disconcerting; the stallion lacked a full ear, the other ear gnarled and a sickly purplish blue, empty of blood. He looked rather flamboyant, with a moustache and long pronged goatee bleached white. He’s a character, thought Sunder, bemused.

“Hello,” the stallion greeted, snapping his eyes to Sunder. If he was a young colt, he might have been startled by the quickness of the motion. “You’re the father, I presume?”

“Ay,” his voice lacked tone, glancing to the colt before looking at the stallion with an arched brow. “You are?”

“I’m Nopony,” he answered, lowering his head to the floor in an exaggerated bow, head pressing into the yellow cloth he was sat on. “And you are…?”

“Sunder,” he replied, curt. He looked to his son, the colt’s smile helped put him slightly at ease concerning the choice of company.

“Nice to you meet you, Sunder. I was just having the most excellent of conversations with your colt,” he grinned, showing all of his unblemished teeth. “He makes for interesting talking.”

“He was telling me all about The Five,” Steorra added. “He knows a lot.”

“You a story teller?” Sunder asked, sitting on his flank.

“Something like that…” his smile seemed etched. “In truth, I just like speaking. It brings me to life you could say. Not much left for me to do these days except talk, and talk, and talk…”

“Is that right?” Sunder found his flippancy off putting, but not too vexing. “But who are you?”

“I’ve already told you. Nopony.” His blink was deliberate, pseudo innocence, expression full of snark.

“Fine, don’t tell me your name. But what are you, why are you here, on this train?” He was suspicious of the stallion. Southerners were too uptight to be this whimsical, and Northerners were too sluggish all the time to display his energy. He wasn’t right.

“I’m just a very old stallion. As for why I’m here…” His laugh was music. “I was waiting for something interesting to happen. Not every day you get to talk with both a Southerner and a unicorn!”

His stare bore into the gleefully grinning stallion, his jaw clenched. “What.”

“Oh, now, now. You didn’t honestly expect that trinket to keep it hidden from someone as perceptive as I did you?”

“I don’t even know who you are,” Sunder snapped, scowling.

“Precisely. I’m just Nopon-”

“Stop,” he interrupted, exasperated.

“Will do!” Nopony complied with a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

Sunder furrowed his brows, seeing his son smile at the stallion’s actions. “Is that supposed to be your word?”

“Why yes,” he chortled, a hoof on his eye. “I’ll have you know that every friend I ever had confided all their secrets with yours truly.”

“I’m not your friend,” Sunder shot.

“You sound just like them too! Uncanny really… “ Nopony laughed, sighing. There was a pause in the back and forth, the older stallion looking down at the yellow hued blanket, his hoof brushing against a pink shaped embroidered into the quilt. “Just like them… but seeing as I answered your question, you could offer me the same courtesy. Why are you here?”

“I don’t have to you tell anything,” Sunder stated calmly, shaking his head. He glanced to his son, seeing a crease between his brows. He sighed. “I’m heading North with my boy. That’s all I’m telling you.”

“Ooh, vague. Mysterious. I like it. Has all the makings of a good story. Southerners journeying North, into a land scorched by Celes.” He hung on his sentence, smiling coyly at the stallion.

“Celes?” Steorra leaned forward slightly, tilting his head.

“Celes? Oh, right! Silly me, it’s ‘Tia’, isn’t it? I always forget which half you lot picked. And I thought I was arbitrary,” Nopony shook his head, smiling with what Sunder read as condescension. “What’s it your Goddess is called? Oh, that’s right, she doesn’t have a name, does she? Just use an omnipresent She for everything. That’s just laziness in my opinion.”

“Her name was lost,” Steorra said, frowning. “She-Born-Of-Starlight is what the old crone calls her. They say she was made of pure starlight.”

“Then why not just call her ‘Starlight’?” Nopony mused, smiling crooked. “The glimmering stars is pretty, don’t you think? Ooh, ooh, I know! Starlight Glimmer! Doesn’t that sound delightful?”

Sunder rolled his eyes, tutting. “Be quiet. You sound like a foal.”

“Well aren’t you the epitome of grizzled and grumpy. Any other tropes you want to display as well? Go on, regale me with your tragic back story that has made rough on the outside, but bittersweet enough to leave you with a heart of gold.” His following laugh was a symphony. “Although I’m sure you’re just anxious to get back home, return to the cold. I suspect you’ll be back in the cold sooner than you think. Both of you, although one more than the other I’m afraid.”

Sunder sensed within the stallion a somberness, despite the smile he wore. “What do yo-”

“Shush!” Nopony interrupted, his chin raising up, his one good twitched. “Ah. My part in this tale has come to an end. If it is any consolation, you were extremely interesting.”

“What are you talking about?” Sunder snapped, rising to his hooves, ready for confrontation. The silence between them hung, the smile for the first time faded from the antique of a stallion, and then Sunder heard it. Sunder ran to the open door of the car, his colt’s words were muted, his focus placed elsewhere. They were in the shadow of a mountain, the last resonance of a horn dying in the air, and his eyes were sent skyward; death fell from the sky like vertical rain. “Steorra! With me. Now!”

“Wh-” Steorra was interrupted by a loud heavy thud atop the roof of the car, and he saw the colt’s face fill with fear.

“Go on, my little pony. Join your dad,” Nopony encouraged, rising shakily to his hooves. “You don’t want to end your story prematurely.”

The colt nodded and jogged over to Sunder who headed toward the door, a series of thumps coming from overhead. “Come with me, colt. Stay clo-”

Suddenly a figure swung down through the open door, a glittering dagger between his teeth, a steel pointed pommel. He looked toward Sunder and Steorra, one eye looking like a pail of milk, the other large and amber. The bandit pony took a step toward the father and son, grinning around the weapon, releasing a deep growl of a chuckle as he flared his wings. Sunder braced, spreading out his forehooves, shielding his son and baring his teeth.

“You picked a bad day to ride-” The stallion heaved as Nopony rammed shoulder first into him, prompting him to drop the blade and sending him vaulting from the car, colliding against the sun soaked stone; the train moving so fast as to rapidly cause him disappear from view in a splatter of red.

Nopony looked out the car, smiling presumably toward his victim. “And you my friend picked a bad day to- bah, screw it. The moment has passed.” Sunder looked at the elderly stallion with raised brows, Nopony’s roguish smile was oddly apt. “Well, what are you waiting for? Go, go! Your stop isn’t here.”

“Right,” Sunder agreed, Steorra following as he closed the gap between him and the door. He glanced over his shoulder, throwing a nod to the elderly stallion as more bangs thundered overhead. “Good luck.”

“You keep your luck. You’re going to need as much of it as you can carry,” he retorted, returning Sunder’s nod with his own. The thunderous thumping continued overhead, and he knew he could no longer wait.

“Steorra, with me,” he blurted, turning to open the door to the adjoining car, hastily slamming it open to jump to the adjoining car; pivoting to aid his son across, slamming closed the door as a stallion jumped overhead, unawares of their presence.

He didn’t look behind him as he ran, making sure only to keep his pace fast and his son by his side. As he ran through the freight cars, crowbars were leveraged into the doors, and he and Steorra vaulted out to the adjoining car before they were intercepted. Car after car they came too close to being caught, and at a point he stopped slamming the doors behind, keeping his eyes straight ahead; steadfast in escaping.

“Come on!” he yelled at the colt, beckoning him to keep up with his hoof.

“What are they?” Steorra asked as he panted, Sunder continued running once there was a half a foot between them.

“Dangerous,” Sunder replied. Fifth car, he counted. The next would be the passenger car. He needed to get to the front. “Keep close, boy!”

They erupted into a copse of wide eyed, panicked stares.

“What’s going on?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Should we stop the train?”

He ignored the chattering of the passengers, knowing of the danger that wasn’t long behind him. He kept his eyes straight ahead, nudging the colt to keep him going at a fast pace. A part of his conscious alerted him to what he was doing, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was getting Steorra to safety. He heard a lone scream come from the back of the car, followed quickly by more, and then less; he didn’t want to look back.

“Don’t look,” he commanded of his son, the other passengers by the front began to flee, and then he followed with a gallop; hoisting Steorra as he ran.

“My hat,” Steorra cried.

“Forget it!” he growled, pushing through the crowd that had already accumulated at the door of the connecting cars. He didn’t want to look back. “Get out of the way!”

He heard dying behind him. Rich mares and stallions killed for the jewels embroidered to their clothing, and the tiaras worn on their heads. Their vanity was the scent that attracted to them their murderer, and they paid for their untimely death with their bracelets and gold. Undoubtedly the shipments of food were an attractive treasure to the sky dwellers, but the valuables scavenged off the passengers made a decent tribute to traders of the East, and they would pry every emerald and sapphire for a taste of luxury. Sunder had run ins with them, far to the East, in the ruins of the tall city; viciousness and hatred of their kin who walked only upon earth were a prominent trait.

Car after car the tide of the wealthy washed up the train, trying to escape the assailants. Either due to the tripping, or being last to exit the car, the stream began to dwindle until the gathered were only a trickle. They left behind them a trail of corpses, Sunder knew that, but he forced his eyes forward. Only Steorra mattered.

At the penultimate car, there was left only a few of them left, Sunder ran at the front. He couldn’t afford to be caught. As he reached the door, he paused, taking a moment to clench his teeth and sigh. He leant down and nudged the colt of his shoulder. “Go.”

“W-what about you?” Steorra asked, and Sunder heard the worry.

“Just go. Go and don’t look back. I’ll be right behind you,” he reassured, unknown even to himself if he was lying. He saw tears well up in the young colt’s eyes, and he steeled. “Go. Now!”

Steorra whimpered, but complied, turning on his hooves and running ahead; his steps slightly sluggish, glancing over his shoulder before Sunder slammed shut the door. He pressed his forehead against the wood, clenching his eyes closed before parting them with a huff, turning to face the doom that he alone stood against.

The pegasi stampeded into the car, blood thick on most of their coats, some displayed their avarice already; wearing upon their bodies their freshly plundered loot. Leading them was a lithe mare, her coat a solid shade of mint, her mane a garish mess of streaks; six different colours. Sunder recognised the significance. Rainbow. A mighty warrior from their kine, each streak was indicative of a trial, and she had succeeded at all of them. In fact, he actually recognised the mare. She was a filly back then, no older than eight, but she had grown into something truly horrific.

“Sunder,” she hissed, grinning a smile that made Sunder tense. “I remember you.”

“Ay,” he nodded, breathing through his nostrils. “I remember you as well, Rain. Your father and mother were good to me and my wife.”

She smirked, glancing to the stallions at her left and right flanks. “Why don’t we catch up? Let my stallions pa-”

“No,” he barked, taking a step forward. “I won’t let you pass. None of you.”

The two stallions by her side, brutes, growled and took each a step forward, before Rain’s wings unfurled, blocking their path. “Why?” she chuckled, and it was colder than the South. “What can you do?”

He clenched his jaw. “You’ve killed enough today. Unhook the freight, take it and just go. Only a few of us left, what good is a few more bodies.”

“Look at him,” she laughed, her goons smiling from ear to ear. “Already bargaining. Not even going to put up a fight? Father told me how good you were - for an Earther anyway - and already you’re giving up?”

“You’re not going to make me angry, little filly,” he spat, a tinge of satisfaction in his gut at her scowl. “If you’re going to kill me, you can, but I’m not going to sob and take it. Have your thugs actually fought a day in their lives, or is their only combatants so far been cowering little foals and mares?”

She jutted out her jaw, and Sunder could see a small scar on her lip. She cut it whilst playing. He remembered, and a crease appeared between his brows. “You’re going to die,” she told him directly, her wings returning to her sides.

“We all are,” he replied. “Some sooner than others.”

Rain remained rooted to her spot, her band galloped past her. Eight of the pegasi bandits charged him, each wearing varying smiles and some brandishing various weapons between their teeth. Sunder rammed into the closest first, a brawny pegasus mare, his skull colliding with her jaw and sending her reeling to the floor. The next got a hit in, his hoof struck Sunder in the cheek, and another rammed into his chest; trying to push him to the ground. Sunder was thankful for the narrowness of the car, allowing only two ponies wide a berth. He was steadfast in keeping his hooves to the floor, the pegasus with his arms around his neck could barely budge him.

Sunder coiled a hoof around the furled wing of the pegasi, and yanked it, snapping the hollow bones and prompting the stallion to scream out in murderous fury. Sunder pushed back, continuously pounding his hoof into the stallion’s eye, before reaching forward and wrapping his hooves around the pegasis’ stomach; hoisting him off his hooves and tossing him to the side, his back cracking as it collided with the table booth.

Three came at him at once. One snaked along the ground, the other ran directly at him, the third vaulted toward him using his wings; knife in the mouth. He jabbed the knife wielder in the face, smashed his elbow into the second stallion and punched the last, but it failed to stop their attack. The knife wielder took point, slashing and cutting at Sunder. Sunder’s reflexes were dulled with age, and the dagger cut shallowly into his neck, leaving him seething as he leapt backwards. The pegasus grunted with triumph, but he got greedy and charged with his partners toward the amber coated stallion.

Sunder growled as he pummeled the stallion in an uppercut, cracking his teeth on the hilt of his blade, prompting him to drop it as blood poured from his mouth, broken teeth gathered in the quickly growing pool. That pegasus staggered back, but the other two went to avenge their comrade, one throwing an unfortunate punch at Sunder; which was quickly countered by the old stallion with a smashing collision with the muzzle, leaving the pegasus disfigured as he broke it. However his friend got lucky, the underside of his hoof punching so hard into his cheek that be immediately tasted copper in his mouth, and he spat the blood into the pegasi’s eye; jabbing him in the throat.

“Come on! Come on!” he taunted, stamping his hooves as a few of the pegasi cowered away, snarling. He felt feral looking at the aggressive expressions on the enemy. A few would attempt to get close but then Sunder would snap his teeth at them, causing them to recoil.

“What are doing? Kill the bastard!” Rain commanded, pacing over to the huddle of thugs.

The pegasi attempted to obey, inching forward, trying to back Sunder into the door. Sunder threw punches in an attempt to stunt their advance, but their intimidation of him gradually began to fell. Sunder knew that truth that he was already aware of began to trickle into their heads gradually. No matter the stories they heard, now, he was just a tired old stallion. They lurched forward, but not of their own volition. Sunder fell backwards, a sharp screech sounding throughout the air, the train braking to a sudden and abrupt halt.

Sunder looked down from his position on the floor to see a pile of bodies, Rain still on her hooves, all that could be heard was the sound of breathing… and then thunder.

“Fuck. Fly! Fly!” Rain commanded, pivoting on her hind hooves and galloping down the car, her wings unfurling from her sides. Sunder leant up as the rest followed suit, a few casting him a scowl before fleeing, leaving behind the corpse of their compatriot.

Sunder stewed in the silence, fatigue wracked him despite the briefness of the conflict, and he spat onto the floor; ridding his mouth of blood. He climbed to his hooves, coughing. He heard the door being opened before he even got to it, and immediately armour clad stallions flooded into the car, brushing past him to survey the damage. The guard. Adorned with silver plate, their helmets moulded with faux horns, mimicry of the unicorns of yore.

“Check the cargo,” he heard a stout voice order from the further front of the train. Sunder squeezed past the guard, Steorra his objective. “Clean this mess up. The Queen won’t tolerate it.”

The platoon became sparser the closer he got to the front, his eyes immediately drawn to the purple plumage atop the captain’s helmet. He was a large pony, not as large as Big Macintosh, but still a brawny and large stallion. Regality was clear in the stallion. His posture, the authoritative eye he kept on his soldiers, and the clear pomposity in his face. The stallion ignored him as he passed by, and Sunder was grateful for the small respite.

When he reached the locomotive, Steorra was immediately around his neck, jumping to hug his father with a sob. He embraced the colt but felt him pull away, the young pony’s eyes drawn to the long red streak on his arm. “You’re hurt.”

“No, no, I’m okay, I’m okay,” he reassured softly, smiling. “Everything’s fine now.”

He brought Steorra back close to him, patting him on the back, placing a chin on his head. He exhaled, enjoying the moment.

“A unicorn…” he heard a stallion blurt behind him, prompting him to go wide eyed, his expression grimacing. He released the colt, turning his back to his son to look at the speaker, jaw clenching. “Queen Rarity is going to want to see this.”

Author's Note

Nothing to add here, except that originally the fight scene was going to be a tad longer, and that the dialogue with Nopony was originally meant to be in the chapter before