Chapters Awakening, a Crossout Tale
Just keep putting one hoof in front of the other, she told herself. Keep moving, keep going forward and you’ll find a better place.
Hot sand shifted under her purple hooves as she reached the crest of yet another dune. Overhead the sun blazed relentlessly, crushing the desert under an oppressive heat that seemed determined to cook the life from her body. Even raising her head felt exhausting, yet she did so anyway, hoping this time she would finally see some sign of civilisation, or trees, rocky outcrops to give some shelter, a cloud, something, anything other than sand stretching endlessly toward a shimmering horizon.
Nothing. Still no escape from this dry, dust and sand cursed hellscape. Freezing cold at night and blistering heat during the day. It just. Went. On. Her heart sank again, tears threatening to well and choke her, but she stifled them, barely. The sandy wasteland would surely see to her demise if she gave in to sheer despair, and so long as she had strength she would not yield. Too much depended on it. She didn’t know where this drive came from or why it was so important, only that she had to keep going, it was her only hope.
When she had first woken in this endless desert, she had flown during the day to cover more distance, using the position of the sun to keep her course, and by night she used her magic to condense whatever moisture she could find in the air into something drinkable. But travelling three days had inflicted a significant toll.
She’d found that kind of magic was difficult to maintain and drained her stamina, while launching without any kind of assistance or platform was likewise tiring and her wings burned with the effort. She simply couldn’t recall the natural skills and knowledge to catch thermals or glide easily. Now her wings hung limp, the feathers that were once magnificent and beautiful were now filthy and broken, her lips too dry and cracked to properly preen them. Even if she could remember how.
What else have I forgotten? She pondered, trudging down the dune to cross another plateau. What else have I lost?
The desert gave her no answer. So, she stumbled on.
Author's Note
My first fic for a while, hope you all enjoy.
Big thank you for editing and feedback fromClueless PrinceOfDarkness
Awakening, a Crossout Tale
She snapped awake, making a strangled gasp for air. The dream was already fading even as her confused mind fought to recall details, as though somehow it refused to be made solid. Only passing images remained. A glorious palace that was pristine marble in one moment, and iridescent crystal in the next. There was a rainbow with six ponies standing at the heart of each colour. And two beings, one of radiant light, the other lustrous shadows.
There was more of the dream she was certain, more images, yet despite her struggle they remained tantalisingly just out of reach. The harder she stretched out for them, the further away they seemed to be.
Without warning a stabbing pain suddenly erupted through her temples, exploding like a cruel volcano, leaving her gasping and reeling in shock. She collapsed backwards unable to hold herself upright as her head span, stars of agony dancing in her vision.
Shortly it passed, receding to a dull throb behind her eyes that faded with each passing moment, leaving her groaning and helplessly weak. The relief of its passing was like a splash of cold water, cooling and soothing her aching head and body. The dream was gone now. Only those fleeting, blurred images remained, though what they meant was a mystery to her.
Realising she find no answers to those questions soon, she abandoned those efforts and instead choose to focus on the moment and take stock of her situation.
Firstly, she observed her own body. Aside from the pain and dizziness that even now settled, her head felt tolerable, though the rest of her ached fiercely. Her wings had become a tangled mess of feathers during her trek across the desert, but tenderly stretching one out she discovered they appeared to have been carefully groomed. A shooting pain in her back caused her to wince and retract the wing again, reminding her just how much punishment and exhaustion the desert had inflicted on her. At the same time, she found she had been bandaged, having suffered numerous cuts that suddenly felt very sore now she noticed them.
She also noted that for the first times in days her lips felt moist. During her trek through the desert, terrible dehydration had seen them become crisp and parched. She had also suffered badly with sunburn, which would explain the ointment residue she could feel in her coat, easing yet another suffering.
Clearly somepony, or creature, had taken it upon themselves to take her in and treat her.
Confirming she was indeed alive and doing remarkably well considering, she moved on to inspect her surroundings, seeking some clue as to who her saviour was and why they had shown such… charity. It was a dark room, sparsely furnished and blessedly cool after the extremes of the desert. What furniture did inhabit the room was crudely formed metal for the most part, though she was laying on a simple wooden frame bed with a straw stuffed pallet mattress, which felt surprisingly comfy after her ordeal. In the corner was a neatly made bed roll, barely illuminated by streams of sunlight seeping through cloth curtains that separated the room from the outside world. Through them she could hear the muted sounds of a distant crowd.
That meant civilisation, and that could only be a good thing. Where there were ponies, there was information, ponies she could talk to. She’d finally figure out where she was, how she got here, and what she was going to do next.
The door creaked open on squeaky iron hinges and a pony stepped in, an angelic white unicorn with a stylish and immaculately coiled violet mane and tail. She wore a loose jacket, that despite the rough fabric, still managed to look fabulous and neat. Her flank presented three diamonds in a triangle.
“Good morning, I see you’re awake.” She said cheerfully, strolling over to the bedside levitating a jug of water in her magic beside her. She poured a cup and offered it. “Here you go, some fresh water. Don’t drink too much at first, just sip it slowly. You’ve been badly dehydrated and you’ll give yourself cramps if you do.”
She gratefully accepted it, struggling to sit up while her own aura stuttered slightly around the cup, still exhausted.
“Here, let me help you.” The pearl unicorn said, gently using her own magic to ease her into a sitting position where she could more easily drink. The water was tepid, and simply the most refreshing thing she had ever tasted. Her parched throat felt instantly better, and she had to fight the temptation to gulp the rest down as fast as she could.
“Thank you.” She croaked to her pearl friend, smiling weakly, hoping it conveyed the heartfelt gratitude she felt for saving her life.
“You’re most welcome.” She sing-songed back with a chirpy and beautiful voice. A moment later found her busy examining her bed ridden patient, checking sunburns and cuts, and inspecting her eyes. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better, thank you. I’m afraid don’t even know your name.”
“Good heavens, where are my manners?” The unicorn rolled her eyes with a charming smile. “My name is Charity, and I’m with the Engineers.”
“Very nice to meet you Charity.” She felt slightly confused, none the wiser as to who the Engineers were but hoped she didn’t let it show.
“And what’s your name?” Charity prompted. “And whatever were you doing in the depths of the Scorched Ocean?”
She paused, trying to search her memory. The dull throbbing slowly returned.
“I… I don’t know… I woke up there one morning… I was… somewhere else…” The memories became fuzzier and more indistinct the harder she tried to recall them, and she winced again as the pain sharpened.
“No, no, no.” Charity told her, rushing back to her side when she saw her pain and laying her down again. “just relax, lay back and don’t think about it. Oh, deary me,” she sighed, as she saw her patient begin to relax again, “you’re new, aren’t you?”
“New?”
“New, as in ‘you’re new here’. It’s a term we use for ponies we find like yourself. You woke up and don’t recall anything before that. No memories or identity at all.” It was a statement, not a question, and she sounded a little sad as she spoke, as though it were an unfortunate story she’d heard too many times before.
“I have flashes, half remembered dreams and feelings, but…” She shook her head, she didn’t have the strength to try remembering again. “Where is here anyway?”
Charity seemed relieved for the chance to change the subject.
“Ah, well here is Freemarket, it’s sort of a neutral space in the middle of The Vales where all the different tribes and settlements can come to trade and meet without fear of everypony shooting at each other.” Her cheerful smile faltered slightly. “At least, they usually do, things can get rather out of hoof from time to time…”
“Wait, tribes?”
Charity paused and seemed to ponder how best to explain.
“It’s probably best if I just show you, when you’re feeling up to a little walk around the bazaar of course. Nearly everypony and creature comes through Freemarket eventually. But perhaps we’ll do that in a day or two, when you’ve rested further. For now, we need to find a name for you. Can’t simply call you ‘hey, purple’ and it’s actually rather difficult to keep talking around the subject if you would believe.”
A name? Her identity. She had no idea what her name was. During the arduous trek across the desert that very nearly claimed her life, the question of who she was had never been far from her mind.
“If I may volunteer an opinion?” Charity interrupted, “most ponies who aren’t given a name look to their cutie marks. Yours is quite unique, it appears to be a sparkling star. How would you feel about… Sparkle?”
Sparkle? Something deep within her resonated the moment Charity said it. She didn’t know what it was, nor could she have explained it if she’d tried, but it felt right.
“Sparkle.” She repeated it to herself, feeling that same sense of rightness return and smiling broadly when it did. It was the most certain she could remember feeling, even if her memory was only a few tortured days old. “Yes, Sparkle. I am Sparkle.”
Awakening, a Crossout Tale
Sparkle shifted uncomfortably in the light robes and headdress Charity had insisted she wore. They trapped her wings and made her feathers itch dreadfully at times. Apparently, they were to help keep her cool and protect her sunburns from further harm, and while they did, she suspected it was more to do with hiding her wings. She’d noted Charity became imperceptibly more guarded and awkward whenever she saw them, as though they were something she was trying to avoid. It had been three days before she agreed Sparkle was rested and healthy enough to venture out, albeit in what was clearly a disguise of some kind.
That aside Charity had been the perfect host, nursing Sparkle back to health and catering to her needs while they talked of the outside world, even if she remained slightly awkward. It saddened Sparkle that she contributed so little to these conversations. Beyond some spell craft she instinctively seemed to know and a vague knowledge of flight, any memory of what came before the desert was completely blank and it seemed she was not alone in this.
“You won’t find a single pony more than ten years old I’m afraid.” Charity said conversationally as they strolled the outskirts of the Bazaar. “I mean of course they’re older than ten, but that’s when the first of us woke up you see, and like yourself no-one has any memory of who they were, let alone how they got here.”
“No one at all?” Sparkle asked. They wandered to a trader hawking cactus fruits, one among many competing voices selling various wares and doing brisk business in the shaded crevasses and gorges of the Freemarket Bazaar. Charity idly left a few bits on his table a picked a few juicy pieces for them to graze on as they strolled further.
“None. Well, aside from the new-borns of course, couples will be couples.” She tittered nervously. “Can’t stop some ponies from raising families it seems…”
Sparkle noticed how Charity trailed off and decided to change the subject.
“So how long has Freemarket been here?” She asked around a pear she was chewing on.
“Oh, well there’s been a settlement here in one form or another since the beginning. The mesa walls provide shelter from the sun, among other things, and the Wildspire river keeps us watered too.”
“Do you live here?”
“Oh no, not really, more a regular visitor for the Engineers. I tend to think of Elegance as home,” she replied, speaking of her yacht, “but if it’s turf you’re talking about, I supposed home would be Small Forge. It’s the largest Engineers workshop in The Vales, used to be an underground bunker or factory of some kind, before whatever cataclysm ruined the world… Or maybe it was always like this.” She mused.
That had been the first and most lingering impression Sparkle had of the world when she finally saw civilisation. That it was built upon and from the ruins of something older, something that was well and truly dead and had been for a long time.
Freemarket was apparently the most cosmopolitan settlement in the area. If the word cosmopolitan even had any meaning here.
Several Mesas clustered together and rose above the barren, parched ground, forming a series of gorges and ravines that most of the town’s population lived in, an assortment of Earth Ponies, Unicorns and even Pegasus soaring on the thermals above, though Sparkle noticed the different types of ponies rarely seemed to be mingling with each other. They lived in a variety of huts and lean-tos, cobbled together from rusted sheets of metal, rough clay bricks, tarpaulin and broken-down vehicles with more permanent living spaces carved into the rock or natural caverns. Walkways and gantries spanned across and between the rock faces above them where even more quarters and living spaces had been dug out or built onto the side of the gorge. They were serviced by ingenious mechanical lifts for those not able or brave enough to tackle the steep and none too stable looking stairways. Sparkle presumed settlement life also continued atop the Mesa where landing pads and towers for airships had been built, and Charity told her within too, where tunnels and still more dwellings had been excavated.
Where the Mesas spread out and formed an open space, larger, more impressive permanent structures had been built, becoming the affluent quarter of the town. It was here the Bazaar they were now wandering had been established.
Near the centre of Freemarket, the Bazaar was a maze of canvases, stalls, sheds and other temporary structures that filled the space, and in places large vehicles had been parked and opened, forming an instant vendor’s stall. It was vibrant with life, a hustle and bustle that after being lost and alone in the desert, Sparkle didn’t imagine existed. Ponies, and even a handful of other creatures, competed to sell their wares. From fruit and veg, to weapons, vehicle parts and fuel, even salvage and scavenged materials and pieces from the old world were available for purchase.
“So, are we going anywhere specific?” Sparkle asked.
“In fact, we are.” Charity smiled. “We Engineers banded together to try and make the world a little more bearable for those in need.”
“Like myself?”
“At times. But today it’s nothing so exciting as introducing somepony new to the world. An old… friend has sent word asking for help.”
“Anyone I know?” Sparkle asked with a sly grin and Charity giggled back at her joke.
“Well, howdy Miss Charity, nice of you to show. Was beginning to think you weren’t coming.” Came a peculiar drawl over the din of the evening bazaar. Not even encroaching nightfall stopped business from continuing and it likely would well into the dark, makeshift bars and café’s providing for a busy night life.
Sparkle and Charity were approached by an Earth Pony mare, and maybe it was the unusual accent, but Sparkle was sure she was accusing Charity of something. Her coat was the vibrant colour of a fresh orange and bore three apples for a cutie mark, while her mane was a blond colour that reminded Sparkle of the desert sands. Under a broad Stetson she had eyes the colour of fresh cactus and a freckled face that would have been pretty were it not for the scowl she was wearing.
“I do apologise, I’ve been unavoidably detained.” Charity replied more evenly. In the moment the two approached each other, Sparkle felt a sudden flash of insight. Images raced through her mind, the two of them arguing at a colourful market, exploring a bustling metropolis of towering buildings together, a treehouse with the three of them companions in laughter and friendship. A sharp pain behind her eyes brought her back to reality just as quick.
“So, I can see.” The Earth Pony eyed Sparkle up with a look somewhere between suspicion and curiosity. “So, what’s your excuse, and what’s with those bed sheets you’re wearing?”
Before Charity could introduce her, Sparkle seized the moment to step forward with her best smile and raised her hoof in greeting.
“Hello, my name is Sparkle and I’m… new.” It felt deeply strange referring to herself in that manner, but she hoped it would ease the tension in the air. Sadly, this new pony simply glared at her rather than take her offered hoof, but at least she saw some of the hostility fade from her stance at the mention of being new.
“I’m afraid I’m the reason Charity is late. I was lost in the desert and she rescued me, that’s why I’m wearing the robes, they’re to protect my w-”
“Protect her burns.” Charity interrupted before she could speak further. “Poor girl suffered dreadfully in the Scorched Ocean.”
A confused Sparkle chafed slightly at being spoken over, but Charity hadn’t led her astray so far, so she decided to gallop with it. At least for now. The young pony didn’t appear convinced, but she seemed willing to take them at their word.
“Well, Sparkle, mighty unlucky for you I guess, waking up in that place. But lucky you were rescued by Charity here. Folk call me ‘Apples’.” She replied cordially introducing herself. “We were just wrapping up at the market, be heading home soon.”
“I thank you for waiting.” Charity replied. “Hope the bazaar has been good to you.”
“Just fine, not that it’s any of your business.”
Charity kept her smile firmly in place but sucked in a breath of air before continuing.
“Speaking of, you contacted us for assistance?”
“Yeah, we did, and things got a mite trickier for you being late. Come on.” She turned and began trotting away, with Charity and Sparkle falling in step behind. “Been having troubles with them Scavengers again.”
“The Rock clan?” Charity asked. “I thought things had settled down between you two.”
“They still reckon they got a claim to that land, started getting nasty about it too.” Apples sounded angry again as she led them through. “One of my kin got jumped by a couple of those scavies, roughed him up.”
“Oh my, is he alright?” Sparkle asked.
“He’ll be fine, which is more than I can say for those rock diggers when I get my hooves on them.” They were approaching a busy vendor now, which for all purposes looked more like small camp. Several buggies and armoured trucks had been corralled into something resembling an armed wagon circle and earth Ponies, presumable Apples clan-folk, were busy selling all manner of produce, oranges, some apples, cactus fruits and various wheats from stalls setup around the edge. Save for the number who were quietly guarding the makeshift walls from the roofs of their vehicles. Apples led the two into the middle of the laager, where stores and tents had been setup for the clan members present.
“Big Red!” Apples shouted, stomping over to another Earth Pony. A very large pony, he stood nearly a head taller than the others around him and had deep red fur, a ginger mane and tail and a big green apple for a cutie mark. He also sported bruised eye and was walking with a limp. “You’re supposed to be resting, what are you doing up?”
“Ah’m fine.” He grumbled back. He was trying to haul a sack towards one of the trucks while favouring one of his front hooves. Despite this, he no sign of surrendering his load and stubbornly limped on.
“You ain’t fine,” Apples snapped back, “you need to rest. Need you fit and well for when we go looking for them scavies.”
“Ah’m fine!” He shot back, showing his herculean strength by defiantly hauling the sack over his withers, before stomping away as well as his three good legs would allow. Apples growled at his back.
“Stubborn as a damned mule. Fine, but if you’re well enough to work out here then you’re not getting any time from your chores back home either!”
“I take it Big Red fell afoul of the Rock clan. What happened?” Charity asked.
“Damned scavies jumped him evening day before yesterday, after the bazaar had finished for the day.”
“Why would they do that? Shouldn’t ponies be helping each other?” Sparkle chimed in. Apples threw her a confused look before answering.
“Damned if I know. Red always liked to wander the market in the evenings, go out grab dinner and a drink. That’s when those Rock heads got their hooves onto him.”
Charity paused, brows furrowed in thought.
“We should go talk with them, find out what they have to say for themselves.”
“Well good luck with that, they took off yesterday.” Apples told her. “Headed back to the highlands. I’d be out there after them right now, ‘cept they brought the Party Cannon along. Not locking horns with that thing, not without Workhorse to show ‘em how it’s done.”
“Party Cannon?” Sparkle glanced at Charity for some explanation, but she waved her off and turned to Apples.
A siren began wailing before she could continue, ceasing all banter and barter across the bazaar, heads and ears pointing towards the speakers as they howled.
“East gate.” Charity said, before she set off at a gallop. Suddenly left behind and confused, Sparkle silently turned to Apples hoping for some enlightenment, but she had already turned back towards her encampment and was barking orders at her kin to arm themselves and button up the hatches. No wiser, Sparkle sprinted after Charity before she was lost in the rapidly panicking crowd. Ponies darted and fled this way and that, many hurriedly gathering up their goods, stuffing them into wagons or shutting up their shop fronts. Others still produced a variety of frightening looking weapons, from vicious clubs and primitive crossbows, to crude shotguns.
“What is going on?” Sparkle gasped, quickly catching up to Charity as she scaled a broad ramp leading to the top of the rough walls that formed the Eastern Gate. They rose in a broad arc between the two outer most Mesa, forming the boundary of Freemarket.
As if in answer, first came the sound. It was music, but nothing like she had heard before. A thundering, tribal beat of heavy drums, brutal guitar measures that made the air throb and a savage howling that terrified Sparkle with the promise of doom.
Together the two ponies reached the top of the wall and outside in the gathering dark they could see the lights of a group of vehicles, speeding towards them, clouds of dust being kicked up by their wheels and the howl of their desperately revving engines all but drowned by the blasting cacophony.
Behind them came the most manic vehicles Sparkle had ever seen. Exhausts spat oily flames, spikes protruded from crude, exposed chassis, and an angry rainbow circus of paint barely covered the rusted insanity in hot pursuit of the first group.
“Lunatics.” Sparkle heard Charity whisper. She had spoken to Sparkle of them once in hushed tones, during their evening chats of the world. She spoke of a crazed raider war cult, hell bent on mayhem and pillage. Of settlements ravaged, convoys plundered, and captives taken.
Sparkle could only watch in growing horror as the fleeing convoy was slowly but certainly being overtaken. She could almost see crazed figures in savage armour clinging to running boards and on the back of cycles, waving cruel clubs and axes about them as they bellowed and screamed jeers and threats at their victims.
Then, out of the dark, came a blue comet. It descended from the dark skies behind the marauding pack, a shape darker even than the gathering night. An Airship. Sparkle could make out no details, but something dropped from the underside, propelled on a great roar of flame, a demented nightmare given wheels launched into the world. Equal parts sleek and savage, broad and low slung, it tore forwards on six wheels, blades spinning from the axel of each. A rainbow coloured mohawk of jagged metal crested the cabin, who’s long bonnet ended in a vicious set of blades that span, eager to rip and tear anything unfortunate enough to be caught in it’s path.
“Crash Maniac.” Charity muttered as the insane vehicle literally rocketed past the other Lunatics. Whoever was at the wheel was clearly mad, hardly slowing even as the rockets driving it forward cut out. One of the convoy was lagging behind, and desperately spat fire from a lone machine gun. The crazed driver ignored the pattering of bullets against a heavily armoured front, and at the last second veered to one side before it ploughed through the offending vehicle, it’s frontal blade tearing apart the rear corner instead, ripping the wheel and part of the chassis away. The crippled buggee bounced and hit the ground hard, swerving and rolling before coming to a stop. Lunatics were instantly swarming over it like ants, and Sparkle was glad she couldn’t hear what was happening.
The maniac continued on a path of destruction, side swiping another vehicle with it’s cruel wheel blades, bringing it to a crashing halt too before it set it’s sights on a far juicier target. At the centre of the convoy a large lorry lumbered under a heavy load.
Rocket engines fired once more and the vehicle shot forward again. An expertly chosen angle saw it almost fly up the side of the lorry, stripping away it’s wheels as it shot past. With almost comical sluggishness the lorry veered inwards and toppled onto it’s side with a crash that almost drowned out the thundering music.
With nothing to protect, the rest of the convoy abandoned their attempts to drive off the Lunatics and instead sped away, desperately fleeing to Freemarket in the hope of escaping the blue nightmare. But it didn’t seem interested anymore. It had left them behind and was tearing towards the gates of Freemarket.
Cries of dismay from the ponies on the wall turned to screams of horror as it approached, and only the most steadfast held their place, though they quaked with fear. Sparkle couldn’t bring herself to turn away from the terrifying spectacle and could only watch as it closed.
Before it got close enough for the defences of Freemarket to attack, it slowed suddenly, breaking and turning away, staying just outside as wheels span and churned dust and sand into a great cloud, it’s engine roaring and it span in a tight circle. The last of the convoy raced past it, simply desperate to get away.
It stopped, engine still growling, and a single figure climbed out of a roof hatch to stand atop the vehicle. Wrapped in a ragged and torn cloak that billowed slightly in the desert breeze, Sparkle could see she was a mare. She bore a single scar that came down over one eye and her ears were chipped and carried garish earrings. She had a light blue coat matching her war buggee and a rainbow mane, cut into a large mohawk that had a long tail dangling over one shoulder. Most striking though were her eyes, a furious crimson that glared at the wall, as though it were a personal insult that she wanted nothing better than to tear down with her hooves and teeth.
I’d never leave Ponyville hanging, the words rang in Sparkles head, the voice familiar, though the pain once again surged behind her eyes as she tried to recollect where she had heard it.
Behind her, the rest of her warband were in a frenzy stripping the downed vehicles, taking anything and everything of value and whatever else there was besides. The survivors were ignored as they fled in terror towards the safety of Freemarket, but her attention was locked on the settlement.
Even as the last stragglers galloped past her and the last looted supplies were being dragged away into the night, she still stared, locked in a hatred Sparkle didn’t know could exist.
She screamed. The blue mare simply screamed at the city. A loathing that boiled up from the depths of her soul and came out of her mouth as a howl of rage. She leapt down back into her cabin and the hellish engines roared, fire spitting from the crooked and curling exhausts that looked to Sparkle like the horns of a demon. For a moment Sparkle feared this apparition was going to launch itself in a singlehanded attack on Freemarket.
Instead, wheels span again, she turned away and disappeared into the night with the rest of the Lunatics, leaving behind only hulks stripped bare, smouldering wreckage and the cries and sobbing of ponies.
It was long eerie moments before anyone spoke, as though they feared words might cause the apparition to return.
“We won’t be heading out tonight.” Charity said finally, before turning to head for the gates where survivors and escapees gathered, desperate to gain entry. “We’ll set out in the morning.”
Awakening, a Crossout Tale
Sparkle gazed in wonder as the ground drifted past below her. She marvelled at how the sleek yacht could fly without the apparent need of any mechanism for generating lift. It had no balloons, no downward facing engines and the graceful curves of its hull, though stylish and attractive, weren’t shaped to generate lift. While pondering the mystery she felt the wind tickling her feathers, tempting her to flight. Reflexively she flexed her wings a little, to better feel the air rushing past.
“Now, now, I know that look.” Charity chided her from the helm at the fore. “More than one new Pegasus has fallen out of the sky by overdoing it. You need to practice and build your strength first.”
Sparkle chafed at the persistent mothering. She felt strong, ready to fly and she’d been itching to start using her wings again, to feel the wind in her feathers once more. But Charity was always determined to keep her hooves on the ground.
“So how does Elegance fly?” She asked, pushing her irritation aside by changing the subject. She was genuinely curious in any case.
“Aetheric ballast. It’s a piece of pre-cataclysm technology we’ve been able to salvage and repair.” Charity smiled proudly. “My friend Sunrise could explain it, he understands much better than I, but it’s something to do with ambient mana and maintaining a charge in the system. We’re trying to reproduce the technology, with some success, but material shortages are slowing things down considerably.”
“We?”
“The Engineers dear. As well as providing aid to those in need, we try to recover and rebuild what we can.” Charity explained further. “The World That Was left behind some remarkable sorcerous technologies.”
Sparkle rested her head on one hoof in contemplation for a moment. Something was tickling her mind, if only she could…
“Aetheric ballast… you’re talking about Aether-lift!” Sparkle exclaimed, surprised to find she suddenly understood what Charity was talking about. Like turning the page of an old favourite book and remembering what had been written, the knowledge was suddenly there waiting for her. “It’s similar to altering density in water with air tanks, except it reacts with ambient mana.”
“Why yes…” Charity confirmed slowly. “I’m surprised you understand.”
“Not as surprised as I am.” Sparkle’s excitement dimmed slightly. Was there more information sleeping in her mind, just waiting to be awoken?
The two fell into awkward silence again, as though neither was quite sure what to do with this new revelation. At least it felt awkward to Sparkle, Charity appeared quite happy piloting Elegance.
“What happened to the World That Was?” Sparkle abruptly asked.
“Haven’t a clue I’m afraid. No pony does. We’ve found almost nothing by the way of recorded history. A lot of ponies have different theories, but unless you know a good time travel spell it will doubtless remain one of the great mysteries that may never be solved.” Charity shrugged, sounding oddly resigned as she spoke, though her answer did nothing to assuage Sparkle’s growing thirst for knowledge.
Sparkle realised she was just trying to distract herself from the real question nagging at her mind. She almost didn’t want to ask, as if she were afraid of the answers, but she needed to know.
“Charity, who was that last night?”
Charity fell quiet at the helm and didn’t answer at first.
“That dear, was Crash Maniac.” Sparkle expected her to continue, but instead she was quiet for a few moments, as though pondering with her own thoughts.
“She’s the leader of the Shadowbolts,” Charity finally spoke, “one of the more notorious Lunatic clans. Not as needlessly violent as some, but brutal none the less. That said, should you ever cross her path I’d be careful if I were you. It’s rumoured she harbours a particular dislike of unicorns and takes great pleasure in cutting our horns off.”
Sparkle shuddered.
“What drives a pony to… that?” She simply couldn’t find the words to describe last night’s violence, a sheer insanity she couldn’t have imagined. Once again, Charity was slow to answer, and when she did there was a sadness that Sparkle wasn’t sure was meant for her or not.
“You hear rumours. Not everypony is as lucky as you I’m afraid. Some find themselves in company where strength alone is respected and only the ruthless or savage thrive. Some aren’t found by civilised ponies in time and are lost and broken by a wilderness too cruel for them to cope with.” Charity said. “They tell all manner of stories about Crash Maniac. That she used to be a slave who murdered her owner. That she was the first Lunatic, driven insane by the horrors of the darkest night and she’s now hell bent on tearing down anything sane. Some say she’s simply addicted to speed, crashed once too often and finally shook her sanity loose.”
Charity shook her head wearily.
“Nopony knows the true story, except for Crash herself of course. Good luck getting her to spill the proverbial beans.”
“It’s scary to think a pony could be so lost inside, so damaged and full of hate.” Sparkle mused sadly, remembering the scream of pure hate and rage. Yet disturbed as she was, she wanted to know more, a morbid curiosity driving her next question. “What else do you know about the Lunatics?”
“Not much.” Charity admitted. “It’s said they worship the ‘Night Mother’, a dark patron who cloaks them in midnight to keep them safe and hidden. They appear only at night, using her darkness to ambush their victims before… well you heard the music and saw what they do. It’s all for plunder, trophies, and slaves, to prove themselves to the Night Mother. They make offerings of their prizes, captives and spoils to her, before descending into crazed revels.”
Sparkle was chilled to her soul, trying to imagine ponies inflicting such horrors upon each other and then celebrating it of all things. She couldn’t make sense of it.
“Why hasn’t anypony ever tried to speak with them?”
“Whatever makes you think we haven’t? But unless you’re offering tribute, they’re simply not interested. Sometimes, not even then.” Charity sighed. “We even tried to follow them back to wherever they call home, but somehow they leave no tracks. They take what they want, plunder and captives, and then disappear into the darkness.”
Sparkle fell quiet again. How does one communicate meaningfully with ponies you can’t find and who are only interested in tribute and stripping settlements bare?
“There must be a way…” She mused.
“Well, it will have to wait.” Charity gestured for Sparkle to join her at the bow and pointed ahead of them. Sparkle came up next to her and saw what she was pointing at. “It’s time for you to meet the Rock Clan.”
“Our apologies, it wasn’t our intention to startle you all.” Charity spoke a little nervously under the watchful guns of the Party Cannon. “Freemarket was attacked by Lunatics last night and we felt it best to catch up as quickly as possible to warn you.”
“You were very lucky not to have been attacked.” Sparkle added.
“Pft! Luck had nothing to do with it.” One of the four mares before her spat. “Not even they’re crazy or stupid enough to mess with the Party Cannon!”
Her name was Molten Rock, which Charity had warned Sparkle was probably a reference to her notoriously short temper. She had a grey coat, a paler mane and yellow eyes and though Sparkle had only known her for a few minutes, she got the impression the scowl she wore was a permanent facial feature. Like three of her four sisters, her cutie mark was mostly rocks, though hers showed a half a lime. And Sparkle had to admit, the machine towering behind her at the core of their small convoy was a monster. It looked for all intents and purposes like some pony had taken a mighty locomotive engine, complete with a large plough over which pointed a pair of quad heavy machine guns, mounted an oversized twin barrelled cannon on its back and then raised it up on six heavily armoured, spider like legs.
“It is certainly impressive.” Sparkle said, her eyes drawn upward to glance at the beast.
“We were going for intimidating, but I supposed impressive will do.” Came another voice with all the energy and emotion of a boulder. Her name was Solid Rock and while she bore more than a passing resemblance to Molten Rock, her manner was a total contrast. She appeared utterly impassive where her first sister was fiery. A third sibling, Quiet Rock, was still trying to hide behind her long mane in an effort to remain unnoticed.
“Oh, c’mon you guys give them a break w’don’cha?” The final sister spoke up. A pony more different from the other three couldn’t be imagined. While the other three were all in shades of grey, this one was a vibrant pink. All pink. Even her fluffy springy mane was shades of pink. Her cutie mark was different too. While the others were all rocks of some form, hers was three jolly party balloons, no doubt the reason why every pony called her ‘Balloons’. “They took the time to come and warn us, didn’t they? That’s so nice of them.”
“Depends what they want.” Molten growled, still glaring at Charity and Sparkle.
“Urgh.” The pink pony groaned. “Don’t mind her, she’s just a grump, like, all the time!”
“Others might call it sensible caution.” Solid droned. “What do you think Quiet?”
Quiet responded by making a quiet squeaking noise and trying to retreat, only to be pounced on my Molten.
“Ha! See, she agrees with me!”
“Does not!” Balloons argued, “Besides, you haven’t actually made any points for her to agree with yet! So, ha yourself!”
As the sisterly argument began heating up, Charity and Sparkle shared a look. They were thinking the same thought. How did the four of them ever manage to form a functioning clan together? Charity politely cleared her throat.
“Forgive me for interrupting, but we seem to be coming off topic.” The sisters gazed fixed on her, with varying degrees of ferocity and Sparkle thought she did a magnificent job of not flinching. “We did actually have another reason for finding you.”
Molten cast Balloons a quick smug look, and Balloons stuck her tongue out in response, but neither said anything so Charity continued.
“We’re here to ask about the… incident, with the Tillers back in Freemarket.”
The mood abruptly changed.
All eyes were on Charity now, sisterly bickering forgotten and even Solid’s marble exterior seemed to harden. Sparkle could feel the hostility coming from the Rock sisters now. Except for Quiet who for the first time emerged from behind her sisters. Strangely, though Sparkle could only see half her face under her mane, it wasn’t enmity she could see. It was worry.
“What about it?” Balloons growled, startling Sparkle with her sudden ferocity.
“We’d like to know what happened.”
“What’d those mud diggers tell you?”
“Not a lot. I’d like to hear it in your words.”
The sisters looked at each other, and at Quiet especially. She retreated a little further and the others instinctively moved to surround her protectively. It didn’t seem to comfort her very much.
“Big Red, he keeps sniffing around.” Molten growled.
“Yeah, been following Quiet, it’s kinda creepy.” Balloons agreed. The two of them seemed to be the more vocal of the sisters.
“One night he had too much to drink and started making a ruckus outside our camp.”
“I’d say it was more of a fracas.”
“It doesn’t matter Balloons, he’s been hassling our sister for too long! He overstepped the mark and got what was coming to him.” Molten sounded oddly satisfied with herself saying that. But again, Quiet remained oddly withdrawn.
“Well, be that as it may,” Charity replied, “I fear this situation may spiral out of hoof. It’s jeopardised the agreement between your two clans to share the valley.”
“Perhaps for the best.” Solid replied. “I fear it was only be a matter of time before our clans clashed over the rights to it.”
“I’m sorry, what lands are we talking about?” Sparkle had been mostly left out of the conversation so far and felt a little lost.
“Wow, you are new.” Balloons sucked in a deep breath. “It’s the Valley of Serenity which is like a totally serene place with clear rivers and water falls and trees and stuff that’s surrounded by ore rich mountains with old mines which is why we want it but the soil is also super fertile like the most dirtiest dirt in the whole dirt world which is why the Tillers want it so we’re kinda butting heads over who actually gets to own it.” She finished with a gasp.
“Balloons babbling aside, Serenity has great value for both our clans.” Solid’s droning voice carried weight, if not emotion. “We are grateful for Charity’s help in arranging the agreement to share, but I doubt it was ever going to last.”
“Why not?” Sparkle asked. “If you agreed to share it once, why can’t you do it again?”
“How about the pot shots they’ve been taking at us?” Molten snapped.
“They’ve been shooting at you?”
“Quiet was making one of her surveys of the valley when she was attacked.” Solid spoke.
“Are you sure it was the Tillers?”
“No one else but those mudders around to take a crack.” Molten added. “Your guys Shield and Sunrise will tell you more. We’re moving on.” She finished, calling to the rest of the convoy as she turned and headed back to the Party Cannon with the other sisters in tow.
“Two more Engineers,” Charity whispered to Sparkle before she could ask, “they’ve been working on a few jobs for the Rocks.”
“Would you mind if I had a word with Quiet?” Sparkle chimed in, stepping forward towards the departing sisters. “I’d like to have a chat with her if that’s alright.”
“Knock yourself out,” Balloons spoke cheerfully, much to Moltens chagrin, but she remained silent, “you can ride in the Party Cannon if you like.”
As Sparkle started to follow the sisters, Charity pulled her back and spoke quietly.
“Darling, are you sure? Perhaps I should ride with them instead, I do have more of a history.”
“I’ll be fine, I just want to speak with Quiet. Besides, I can’t pilot Elegance.” She reassured her with a smile.
“Well, okay. If you’re sure.” Charity sounded less than convinced but realised there was little she could do about it. “I’ll fly ahead and catch up with Shield and Sunrise. You take care and I’ll see you soon.”
“You too, Charity. See you soon.”
The Party Cannon gave a far smoother ride than Sparkle had expected. From its lumbering, ungainly appearance she imagined a jarring, teeth loosening experience. Far from it, the six legs worked in tandem to keep the body even and level, all managed by a sophisticated guidance system that read the land even as the driver piloted the machine. Balloons was proudly showing off the control systems to Sparkle when Molten appeared and chased them from the cramped operations room, ranting about giving away secrets.
Balloons rolled her eyes and called her a grump again before continuing with the tour, leaving Sparkle to keep wondering just how the four of them functioned.
A quartet of snug crew quarters were found at the stern of the vehicle, and though small, each room reflected the four ponies who called the Party Cannon home while they were aboard and made up the crew.
Balloons assured a reluctant Sparkle that it was fine to browse around Molten’s room, even as she jimmied the lock open. The inside was militant to say the least. One wall was racked with firearms of every description, many of them modified and personalised to some degree.
Solid’s room was spartan to say the least. Aside from a collection of neatly, almost obsessively, organised rock specimens it was nigh completely bare.
In contrast, Balloons room was predictably decorated in bright and vibrant colours, mostly pinks, with a string of fairly lights decorating the door and an impressive collection of bottles in various states of emptiness. It gave the impression of a wild party waiting to happen, an impression only slightly spoilt by the confined room and the omnipresent hints of rust that seemed to permeate the world.
Balloons carefully knocked on the final door before opening it slightly to let the two of them peek in. Inside Quiet appeared to be snoozing on her fold down bunk, but the two of them noticed her quickly open one eye and snap shut it again, pretending to remain asleep.
Balloons quietly closed the door with a little smile.
“I think she’d like to sleep.” She whispered. It seemed a little redundant considering the rhythmic, hollow booms of Party Cannon’s feet and the rumble of its engines.
“Would you mind if I spoke to her? In private?” Sparkle persisted. “I can see how protective you all are of her, I just need to understand a few things.”
“She’s our sweet little sister.” Balloons smiled her broad, genuine smile. “You seem like a nice pony. It’s fine with me, but you’ll have to ask her.”
“Thank you.” Sparkle smiled back.
A multitude of images flashed through Sparkles mind, bright and colourful parties, a pony of unflappable optimism, randomness and good nature, feats of impossibility and an infinite desire to spread joy. Again, the images were gone almost as fast as they appeared, leaving Sparkle wondering where they kept coming from. She dismissed the question for later, there were pressing matters.
She gently tapped on the hatch and eased it open a crack, just enough to poke her muzzle through.
“Hi Quiet, it’s me, Sparkle. Do you mind if I come in?”
The small mare shifted slightly, casting a furtive and nervous glance at Sparkle, before nodding and curling up again.
“Thanks.” Sparkle gave her best winning smile as she settled on the bunk next to her. “I was hoping I could have a little chat with you. You were very quiet earlier. Are you okay?”
The youngest Rock sister looked up with her meek eye, the other still hidden behind her long fringe, and nodded.
“Good, I’m glad. This whole situation has every pony so riled up and worried. I’d hate to see things spiral further out of control.”
“mmm-hm.” It was the first sound Sparkle had heard Quiet make, and it sounded to her like an affirmative. At least she hoped it was. She smiled warmly, trusting that she was making a friend.
“You don’t talk very much, do you?”
“nuh-uh.”
“That’s okay. Some pony once said, ‘why say anything unless it improves on silence?’ I can’t for the life of me remember who it was though, but they have a good point.”
Quiet was smiling up at her.
“Has any pony ever told you, you have a nice smile? It’s a genuine and kind smile, the sort you can see in your eyes too.”
“mmm-hm.” Quiet affirmed, staring off into the distance, and blushing as she did Sparkle noted. Some pony had told her before apparently.
“Well, eye, I haven’t seen the other yet.” Sparkle chucked. “May I?”
“mm-hm.” Quiet smiled back and shyly raised one hoof to brush her long mane aside and over her ear.
“I was right, you do have lovely eyes.” Quiet beamed up at her. It was the most open she had seen the young Rock sister. Then something caught her eye, glinting green as it dangled from Quiets ear where it would usually be covered by her mane. “That’s a pretty earring, can I see it?”
Quiet dropped her mane abruptly and shrank back again, the meek look returning to her eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry Quiet, I didn’t mean to pry.” Sparkle apologised. Despite this, Quiet fell silent again and meekly looked away. Realising she had overstayed her welcome, Sparkle took it as her signal to leave. “Well, thanks for the chat. I’ll leave you in peace, but I hope we can talk again sometime.”
She slowly slid off the bed, left the room and closed the hatch behind her.
“Did ya have a nice chat?” Balloons appeared with a broad and innocent grin, making her jump.
“We did. Kind of. I think…” Sparkle wasn’t sure, but something was playing on her mind. “Question, where did she get that earring?”
“What earring?”
“Huh… never mind.” Sparkle shook her head. “So, tell me more about what you Rocks actually do. Uncovering old tech sounds fascinating.”
Sparkle only half listened as Balloons began excitedly babbling about the joys of digging open old mines and salvaging old facilities. She’d managed to speak with Quiet Rock, but far from providing any answers, all she had was more questions.
I know I’ve seen that earring ring before… and why hasn’t she told her sisters about it?
