The Ghost: Assorted Adventures

Seas of azure peered out from beneath heavy eyelids, fluttering in the presence of warm sunlight seeping through thin white curtains. She stretched, rolled onto her back, and gave the faintest yawn as her hooves touched the headboard. Either seconds or minutes passed beyond her weary perception as birdsong and scents of jasmine and lilies hung in the air of the unfamiliar room. To her right came a small click and the door slowly opened to reveal the image of another pony. There was a tray in his hoof.

“Good morning,” he said softly.

“Good morning, Silver,” Rarity hummed. She rolled onto her side to face him and the colorful assortment before her. “Breakfast in bed? You shouldn’t have.”

“Don’t think it’s just for you,” he teased before climbing onto the white sheets. Together they ate from two tall glasses loaded to their brims in layered fruit and cream, topped with a thin lemon slice.

“Dearest, this is wonderful.” Another bite only broadened her smile. “I wasn’t aware parfaits were a specialty of yours.”

“I have to have skills beyond just lurking.”

“And how long did it take you to learn this?”

“Three weeks of brutal trial and error,” Silver said with unwavering confidence, leaving a thin line of cream on his muzzle as he dragged the spoon from it. Rarity giggled at the sight.

“You are incorrigible,” she purred, leaning in to gently lick the cream off his face. Silver snagged her lips with his before she could pull away and the two quickly fell into their tangle of giggles and fruit, basking together in the sunlight. After a while their emotions settled and only the sound of soft breathing could be heard.

“It’s nice to see you like this,” Rarity finally said. “For so long I felt you only ever had time for your work.”

“Not entirely wrong,” Silver chuckled, scooting closer to the unicorn. “Helping Coltistrano back to her hooves has been tough, and this Maestro business has me running all over Equestria trying to stop her.”

“You know…” Rarity said solemnly, eyes drifting across her lover’s scarred form. “If you ever needed help, any at all, you can always come to me.”

“It almost sounds like you’re worried.” Silver’s grin spread across his face before Rarity met his eyes.

“I am.” A hoof reached Silver’s torso and seemed to draw his jest from him. “Manehatten sounded just awful, and what she’s capable of... I want you to be safe.”

His thoughts came to a stop. Slowly, with gentle hooves, he wrapped his forelegs around his bedmate and sank into her embrace. He tried to speak, but failed to find words powerful enough to express the warm flutter in his chest. It reminded him of the days before the cloak, before the island, and before he lived in a world where the only safe harbor was right where he was now. In her embrace.

The moment, however, was broken by the sound of scratching beyond the door. Silver slowly peered over his shoulder and spied a sheaf of letters being forced beneath the threshold. This continued for a few seconds. A light tapping then came from the other side, punctuated by a voice.

“Rusty fetch mail, lots of letters, but Rusty not want to intrude. Lots of love smells, would be rude.”

The diamond dog’s paw-steps could be heard from down the hallway as Silver pressed his hoof along his muzzle. Rarity held back her laugh, just barely keeping it below a whisper as she patted Silver’s cheek lovingly. He gave a sigh.

“Are you alright, dearest?” Rarity’s words were lined with giggles as her lover looked to her with tired eyes.

“Rusty has saved my life and is a wonderful friend,” he recited, as if reminding himself. “But I need to have a talk with him about privacy.”

No longer could Rarity hold back her amusement, releasing her bright laughter as she wreathed the mail in her magic, bringing it to the bed. The pile was stacked neatly and placed on the now empty dining tray for Silver to open.

“You are a paragon of patience,” she teased, earning her a knowing look from Silver as he peeled open the first letter. His face grew tense as he read its contents.

“It’s from Steelhorn.”

“Your minotaur friend? I thought he had left Gorn’s crew.”

“He did, but I asked him to keep me updated on criminal activity he found in his travels. He’s…” Silver trailed off, mouthing the words he read as his eyes scanned the document with intense scrutiny. Rarity could almost feel the tension before he finally spoke again.

“Steelhorn found one of the artifacts. I have to rendezvous with him near Appleloosa, he says there’s danger.”

“Do you need me to come with you?” Rarity’s words were rushed as she began to sit up. “I can pack some essentials, maybe call one of my friends to come with us. We’ve become quite familiar with the town since-”

Her ranting mouth was stopped by Silver’s kiss. She fell into it, feeling relief from her haze of worry before he pulled away.

“Just last night you told me about being foalnapped by changelings, remember? I want you to stay safe, too.”

“I know, dearest, but I still worry. Aren’t you concerned?”

“Steelhorn’s one of the toughest creatures I know,” he said excitedly. “With us two working together, I don’t think there’s anything we can’t handle.”

--

Flame bottles soared overhead and collided with the sandy street leading through the chaotic town of Appleloosa. Ponies of all kinds defended barricades and launched their own attacks of bombs, magic bolts, and pegasi charges. A row of hardy earth ponies held back the advancing mob and beat them down with mighty blows. An explosion rang out. From beside the fireball a light gold earth pony rushed to move the wounded, dragging them as fast as he could to the far end of town.

The Ghost raised his cloak just in time to deflect the oncoming shrapnel, stretching the black cloth across not only himself but the towering, red-haired mass of muscle beside him. They jumped into an alley between the W.E Shippit Delivery Office and Appleloosa’s famed, and now vandalized watering hole, the Stagger & Holmes Bar. They shared a long, fearful look.

“We can handle this, right?” Steelhorn said, barely heard above the sounds of battle.

“Most certainly,” the Ghost replied dryly as he peeked around the corner. “Their leader is staying away from the battle. He’s smart, but I have a plan to get over there.”

“Well I’m-” A blast from above sent wood chips raining down upon the duo. “I’m all ears!”

“You said he’s blind in one eye, right?”

“Has been since we were kids.”

“So, quite simply-” The Ghost whipped out his cloak on instinct, snapping it along a bandit’s brow as he fell. “We get to the top of this bar, you wrap me in my cloak, and the second he turns his blind side to us you launch me like a sling right into his ugly mug. Sound good?”

“I don’t think we have a choice.” Steelhorn hefted the fallen bandit in one hand and launched him into a small crowd of them, scattering them across the sand. He spun back into the alley and offered the Ghost a boost in one swift motion.

Together they climbed the side of the tavern and crested the splintered roof. The battle looked far more desperate from there, the sights of skirmishing ponies clashing all across the entrance to the town, fighting tooth and hoof against the invaders. In the distance was a single minotaur. He stood tall, scarred from previous battles, and wore deep grey fur to match his near ebony horns. In his hand was a small object that expelled fog and a blue glow.

“Alright, on my mark.” The Ghost nearly shouted the words as he was bundled into his own cloak. They watched intently, Steelhorn from atop the bar and the Ghost from within his grasp as the battle around them raged on. Finally, the towering bandit leader turned.

“Now!”

Steelhorn began to swing. The powerful circles he made in the air forced the cloak to the limits of its flexibility, and the Ghost himself could only hope to hold on. After three stomach-flipping passes the Ghost felt himself launched over the town. He soared through the air, desperately trying to stabilize himself as his target came into view. The leader noticed, far too late, the cloth rocket screaming towards him.

They collided in a thundering smack as they both fell to the ground. His artifact rolled from him, and now the Ghost could see the intricate lettering along the glass cube. Fog swirled violently within as the two exchanged glances between it and themselves.

“Surrender, Stoneheart,” the Ghost cried, standing to his hooves. “The Maestro can’t save you from the eyes of the law.”

“Who said I’m the one in need of saving, runt?” Stoneheart’s roar shook loose the sand beneath their hooves as he charged.

The Ghost whipped his cloak along Stoneheart’s nose with little effect, and scrambled to the side just in time to evade the living freight train. The Ghost clambered over to the cube and lifted it. From within a long, sunken face lashed out at the glass, distracting him from the meaty fist colliding with his jaw. He stumbled back and wrapped his hooves in his cloak.

“Last chance, give me the cube.”

“Over my dead body, Ghost. Poppy!”

“Guess who!” Hooves found themselves wrapped around the Ghost’s eyes. He thrashed back, grabbing hold of the strange mass and flinging it to the side. He spied the magenta pony as she bounced on long, slender legs back to Stoneheart as she climbed up his back.

“Ooh! Wassat behind your ear, boss?” Her magic trick produced both the cube and a pair of wicked smiles.

Stoneheart held the cube in one hand as it glowed to life. A ray of biting cold flowed forth from the construct and struck the ground just before the Ghost. The sand began to crystallize, becoming a field of thorny ice that spread around him. He raised his cloak, defending himself from the blast, but did little to stop the chill that crept into his very being. From the town all three heard a roar.

“Brother!” The cry of Steelhorn could be heard from the now breaking line of bandits. The retreating horde rushed past the ensuing struggle and soon Stoneheart and Poppy followed suit. The chill left the Ghost, the thorns of ice a reminder of the battle that took place as they dripped in the sun. He and Steelhorn met along the outskirts of the town.

“Did you get the cube?” Steelhorn’s hopeful gaze fell as he watched snowflakes fall from the abyssal cloak.

“Regrettably no.” The Ghost gave one last, firm shake to cast the white specks to the ground below as he looked across the carnage and destruction of Appleloosa, taking in the damage. “We need a new plan.”