The cold air of the night, finally banishing the scorching heat of the desert, enveloped me as I looked upon the winding streets of a haphazardly constructed market. The incessant murmuring of the traders, each promising to give me the best deal I had ever seen, merged together into a low background hum. Following me along as I trudged through the bazaar, looking at all their wares with a disinterest born from a mixture of fatigue and annoyance. Not even a stall absurdly selling kites in the dead of night could raise my mood.
I felt terrible at the prospect that only a few weeks after our last disagreement, I was once again abut to fall short on my responsibilities as a friend.
The smell permeating the bazaar was a curios blend between the familiar aroma of Equestria -- carried eastward by the traders, whose caravan we had joined-- and the exotic scents of the far east. Both of the caravans were taking the chance to mingle together in the last desert town bordering Saddle Arabia proper
Well at least I’m not, as, tired anymore. I thought, my energy briefly restored by the smell of a cart selling hot coffee to a surprisingly large clientele, considering that it was in the middle of the night. Looking up -- almost as if to check if the sun had risen without my knowledge -- I saw not the familiar view of Equestria’s firmament, but the new and slightly disorienting sky of Saddle Arabia, lacking some of the more recognizable stellar constellations.
I was only out here, walking around aimlessly, because of a persistent spell of insomnia that had started sometimes after we had crossed the boundary of Equestria. Each night it was the same, after dragging my tired body into bed I would inevitably wake up a few hours later. My body shooting from the hammock as if struck, trembling at a nightmare I couldn’t remember, who nonetheless seemed so familiar it must be the same dream repeating itself night after night.
Then, after a few hours of aimlessly roaming through the cold night, I would drag myself back into the wagon and fall asleep instantly, only to wake up tired the next morning. A fatigue that, even with the help of several spells, was slowly mounting and mounting. Making me irritable the entire day over, while also filling me with guilt. After all Trixie only wished for my help with her performance, and yet I was falling short, even with all my magic, I could feel the tension slowly escalating, preparing to boil over someday soon.
Damn nightmares. Damn insomnia. Damn Luna.
That last thought, likely a result of my sleep deprivation, made me feel guilty. Yet, despite the guilt, the sentiment remained, after all, what’s the use in knowing the princess of the night if she doesn’t even bother showing up when you need her.
This whole situation was becoming ridiculous, and yet, even though it wasn’t healthy, even though I knew it wouldn’t work forever, I had decided to simply tough it out. Trixie was my best friend and nothing, be it insomnia, anger, or the feeling of an impending collapse, would ever be enough to willfully ruin her dreams.
That thought, and the goal it represented, was the only thing still driving me forward.
Shaking my head again, this time in both determination as wall as fatigue, I suddenly yawned. The burst of lethargy following soon after showed me that I had apparently wasted enough time to satisfy my insomnia. With a last sluggish rub over my eyes I tuned to lumber back to the wagon, eager for at least a few moments of sleep.
And that is when I saw it, leering unassumingly from a stall to my right, placed between the vibrant colours of a Saddle Arabian carpet and the dull brass of an Oil lamp.
Its presence immediately wiped the fatigue from my mind and before I had even realized it I was already running. I barely gave a thought at the abandoned nature of the alley, nor did I react when the sounds of the bazaar first quietened, then faded entirely. Stopping right in front of the cart I wheezed heavily with an exhaustion that almost surprised me, before the view of the book consumed my awareness.
The sight of its faded brown binding brought me back to one of the worst moments of my life. When, while hiding in the lifeless cold of Equestria’s northern desert, I was approached by a trader -- the commotion of his arrival finally quieting down ceaseless screaming of the insects -- stopping his cart in front of a patch of the lifeless brown shrubbery infesting this whole damn desert.
Shrugging of his harness, he smiled at me with a knowing look in his eyes, before offering me revenge in the form of a single book, all for the low price of a single bit. Even at that time, with my eagerness for revenge at its zenith, there were several things that had disturbed me greatly.
First was his appearance, tall and thin, the contours of his body, even hidden as they were beneath a dark cloak, seemed to hint at strange proportions. He appeared to be ether a mixture between several races or, perhaps, a remnant of older blood. His gray fur was so dark that it almost seemed to be black, his long braided mane adorned with a multitude of strange bronze coloured charms. The language of the ornaments, though indecipherable to me, seemed to have its roots in old arcane formulas, somewhat known to me through certain withered pages of ancient provenance.
His wooden cart, thin and curiously tall, seemed unfit to house a pony. The single window, placed well above the height of an average pony, was veiled with cloth and it seemed as if the vibrant yellow silk was swaying in a breeze I couldn’t feel. Its soft undulations gave me the strange image of dancing shadows, hiding in the darkness of the cart. There was also a smell, an aroma I couldn’t define, safe only that it made my hackles rise.
“Well. What do you say?” His voice was as disturbing as his cart, or perhaps even more so, with its hollow quality and his strange unplaceable accent. " I can personally guarantee its effectiveness. Whatever ails you, whoever irks you, this book holds the answer to your problems.”
The sudden end of his speech, droning and hypnotic, made me twitch. As disturbing as it was, his voice had something, just beneath the surface, something that I wanted to analyze, study, hear more of.
“Uh...” I stammered, shaking my head at a sensation that almost felt like I had water running down my ears, the strange shrill piping that seemed to fill my head making me wince “Thank... Thank you but... I can’t...”
“Oh, Of course. You wouldn’t want to buy it without a small look at what you’re getting. Believe me I understand.” With an intense look and a strange smile he held out the book.
The moment it touched my hoof a jolt went through me, originating in my horn and razing down to the tip of my tail. After my spasm had faded I looked down, expecting to see the book on the ground, only to find it securely enveloped in my magic. It felt bizarre, strangely pleasurable... no, not pleasurable, electrifying, empowering. With the book floating leisurely in the soft turquoise glow of my magic my horn tingled and I felt somehow stronger, larger, more aware of everything around me. I could almost hear the slow breathing down on my...
Alarmed I looked to my left caching those leering eyes staring at me, his head placed strangely in front of the cart’s only window. Their gaze...
Suddenly I was confused. I wanted to test the truth of this trader’s promises, why had I turned? Shaking my head I went back to the book, ignoring any breathing now that I knew it was only the trader, and looked at it in new appreciation.
This was exactly what I needed, with this the princess would pay.
Using my hoof, as I was averse to releasing the book for even a single moment, I searched through my saddlebag, thinking all the while about the princess, soon to beg for my mercy, and about the trader, such an idiot to give it away for a single bit.
Finding a coin I smiled, so wide my checks started to hurt, and stretching out my hoof I intended to buy this wonderful book. When, suddenly, a fleeting ray, cast from a source I could not begin guess, reflected of the gold. Scrunching my eyes I twitched in irritation as my magic failed, and I heard a sound so terrible it was almost enough to make me cry, the dull thud of the book hitting the dirt.
Before the sound even had the chance to fade away I had already set out to rescue it from the ground. As I was leaning down I abruptly stopped and shuddered, without the book the world slowly returned into my awareness and I realized that my surroundings were different. The insects were quiet, the stars seemed muted, and with a loud breath to my left i suddenly remembered the trader.
“What...what was...” At the sound of my rasping voice cutting though the silence I winced, coughing at the sudden dryness in my throat.
“There, there” a voice said as he lightly patted my back” Slow breaths.”
The trader watched on amused I stumbled forward, my hoof almost touching the book after a particularly heavy hit. Coughing one last time I turned and stared at him in anger, the book forgotten for the moment.
“You! How dare you!” The look in his eyes, leering down at me in what might be disappointment or triumph, reminded me of the princess.
“Is that how you treat a customer!” I growled, sneering hatefully up at him while his face slowly seemed to morph into Twilight’s.
The last aftershocks of the book’s electrifying charge, mixing with my hatred for the princess, made me feel invincible and for a moment I thought about which spell I would use to snuff out this mocking gaze, leering down at me.
“Sorry, I thought you needed help” at this, the look changed, and with a sudden shock any allusions to the princess disappeared. Never, not even in a million years, could I imagine that the eyes now staring down at me could ever adorn the face of the princess, or, indeed, anypony else.
“But, speaking about customers” those eyes were a blizzard, drenching me in ice-cold air whilst snuffing out the flames of my hate. " I think you were about to make a Purchase, weren’t you?”
This question stopped my shudders, and with a jerk I remembered the book. Looking down I saw that it had opened after hitting the ground, its first page proudly showing the pure black inscription of its title. The mere sight of it started a war within me, fear and confidence, happiness and hatred, just looking down I saw the face of the princess, swirling in a dark red fog, her features screwed into an expression of otherworldly horror. I could almost hear her begging.
I surprised myself when my hoof appeared and blocked out the image, without even realizing it I had reached down to grab it. Shaking my head violently as if to dislodge this strange obsession, and when that proved insufficient, biting on my tongue until I could taste the coppery tang of blood, I turned away from the book.
“No!” I cried, looking at the trader, motivated by both anger and my ever growing horror at a situation I didn’t understand.” I will not! Take your book and get out of my sight!”
Gasping heavily I stared him square in the eyes, trying to mask my fear with anger. But even a cursory glance showed that he saw right through me, his eyes shining mockingly as me smiled at me.
“Well, the customer is King” The way he said the word king, combined with a particularly intense leer, made me twitch violently. So violently, that I almost missed it when he bent down and took the book. The image of it disappearing into the folds of his cloak made me tremble with a feeling of incomprehensible loss, urging me desperately to stop him.
“Wouldn’t you agree” His tone clearly showed that he had seen my latest burst of obsession.
“Y... Yes. I don’t want your Book” I stuttered, grimacing against the impulse to envelop it with my magic.
“Well, that’s too bad” he shrugged, slowly getting ready to leave, when the last of the harness was around his flank he smirked back at me.” perhaps some other time.”
It was only later -- after the insects had reclaimed the desert from the strange quiet that had fallen over it -- that I realized my horn was glowing with the force of a particularly vicious spell, cast unconsciously in the fear that he would react to my denial with more than just a cryptic look and a sardonic smile.
A cough ripped me out of my memories, and I realized that I had spent the last few minutes simply staring at the book. Smiling in embarrassment I turned to the owner of the stall, who must have returned sometimes in the last few minutes, and apologized. Thinking all the while how I must have looked, just standing around while staring at his stall.
“Sorry, its just... well” the trader, a Saddle Arabian with dark brown fur, smiled forgivingly, winking once before acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
“Well, what can I do for you?” his voice, against my unconscious fears, was completely normal and held only the faintest hints of an accent.
His question dragged my eyes away from the book, where they had crept without my notice, and back to his smiling face. Thinking intently, even though it felt more desperate than focused, I tried to make sense of the chaos within my mind. The sight of the book, as unexpected as it was, brought memories to the surface that seemed to have lost nothing of their power over the last few years. Feelings that I had thought conquered renewed their assault on me with unimaginable potency and it was only the thought of Trixie, and my desire to protect...
Protect. As the shudders wracking my body slowly ceased, that thought seemed to be all that my tired mind could cling to.
I... I need to... protect.
Yes! Protect! After all, I can’t leave something like this out here, to be bought by somepony unequipped to deal with it.
“Ah...yes, yes, I would like to buy this” I said, gesturing at the book with my left hoof, still shaking slightly as I smiled at him.
“Ah, Good choice. It is a real collectors item and, if I may add, nowhere else could you get it for such a low price.”
With my heart beating wildly I waited for him to package it, my whole body twitching imperceptibly in anticipation as I gave him the absurdly low sum of just 10 bits.
The jolt shooting through me as I took it was wonderful and invigorating. Quickly stuffing it in my saddlebag I smiled one last time before turning away.
“After all, the customer is King” This sentence, echoing hollowly behind me just as I was about to return to the normal bazaar, stopped me in my tracks. With a last glance back, and a shudder at a smile that seemed so terribly familiar, I shuffled away. Knowing that a pair of leering eyes, unlike any that a normal pony could ever possess, would follow me along, watching contently as I disappeared into the throngs of the receding night bazaar.
It was only later when the experience of the last hours -- for it must have been hours with the blood-red glow of dawn dusting the horizon -- had faded and while looking upon the small confines of Trixie’s wagon that I finally relaxed my muscles. With an almost unnatural eagerness I touched my saddlebag and -- while twitching slightly at the bolt shooting through my body -- I suddenly knew, that neither the small space, Trixie’s sleep talking, nor the nightmares, would keep me awake any longer.
At the threshold of the wagon, and while hearing the low breaths of my best friend (something i dispassionately realized was missing in the alley), I stopped and opened my saddlebag. Hungrily enveloping the book in my magic, and while almost moaning at the long coveted charge, I opened it to its first page.
Proudly showing the pure black inscription of a title I had already expected.
Necronomicon.
Author's Note
Well here it is, my first story.
I hope you enjoyed it.
Please tell me if you find any outrageous mistakes, as English is not my first language, and i really hope that it was coherent.
