An Equestrian Rogue

The offensive heat of the blistering summer sun made the air ripple with vapor waves over the bleached yellow dunes of sand. It was enough to drive any creature that wasn’t cold blooded to shelter under any rock it could find. The heat penetrated deep into the outcroppings of stone that hadn’t been buried under centuries of sand, warming the hollows of many wasteland creatures. Those that had been fortunate enough to be born with scales happily sat out in the daylight, soaking their hide.

Animals, however, were nowhere near one cavern that rested in a pointed rock formation that jutted unnaturally from the dunes. A dull gray stone abode looked as though a single claw-tipped finger was accusing the sky of injustice. Smoke billowed from an open hole, venting the tainted air away from the occupant. It left black lines of soot that clung to the ridges on the rock.

The pacing of hooves echoed from the cavern, muted only by the crackle of a baleful fire that bathed the insides of the hovel in green. Above the fire sat a cauldron that simmered in the heat. Blue-black sludge boiled within the cast iron pot and from the mixture arose a mist that swirled in an endless vortex. Soon enough, a picture formed.

“Torlak,” the picture spoke. It began to move, the blurry image shifting and shuddering, shimmering with an ethereal presence that wasn’t quite all there. “What is it?” The unmistakable flap of heavy wings could be heard coming through the mild static the magical communication hummed with.

“I’ve received word that my slaves are ready to move. Though one hasn’t reported back.” Torlak responded. “The totems are in place and the process will begin soon enough. It will take months, but we’re prepared for it. How are things on your end, Horivan? They still suspect nothing, I hope.”

“Of course. I’ve managed to worm into the king’s ear on this matter. He still cares for his son, after all. I’ve not spoken of your involvement, however. Merely the idea of what should happen should the magic begin to wane.” Horivan chuckled mirthfully. “But what of that one that hasn’t reported back?”

“An insurance policy. You’ll likely be reading about him soon enough.”

“Insurance policy? Torlak, that isn’t--” Horivan was cut off, sending his cloak shuffling in agitation.

“You keep working within the palace. You needn’t worry about my little minion. He is on a timer that lines up perfectly with our plans. And we’ve a long way to go before this is done. We’re merely entering the second phase, Horivan.”

The hood came off, revealing the gargoyle underneath. “You listen here you crazed summoner! I wasn’t told of any ‘insurance policy’! This wasn’t part of the plan and if you truly wish for this scheme to work, then we need to be filled in. I’m guessing I’m the first to hear about this, aren’t I?”

“That you are. Because as I said, this minion is on a very special task to make sure this succeeds. If he fails, he fails. If he succeeds, we succeed only that much more. He is merely there to take care of those in power.” Torlak shrugged his shoulders. “It’s of little consequence of what he does.”

The gargoyle sighed. “Very well. I need to return to my duties. Hopefully that minion of yours contacts you soon enough with good news. But I want us all to convene and to discuss it. I’ll contact you soon.”

With that, the conversation ended and the vortex collapsed in on itself. Torlak stood with a grim look on his face. A hand went waving over the bubbling caldron and extinguished the flames with a whisper of magic. He had ceased his pacing in order to converse, but went right back into the pattern his hooves wore into the stone.

“The king on our side,” he murmured to himself, “will be a boon, but I worry about his queen.” A hand came up to stroke along the beard that hung from his chin. “She’ll likely dissuade him--or attempt it.” Torlak stopped in his pacing a moment before looking back to the cauldron. “And then there is Scorpan to deal with...”

The centaur sighed and approached a tapestry on his wall. It held the silhouette of a goat-like being terrorizing the world. “The things I do to return you to this world… I know you are out there in the void somewhere. With the magic of that accursed land, we will undo the bindings of this world. By their blood I will see you returned to us.”

Torlak trailed off and looked toward the dunes outside of his hovel. “Ah, I wonder where my little gambit is...”

“You decimated a small group of dummies without remorse and then grinned like a madpony after it was done. Let me say that again: You destroyed ten ponies in the span of a few minutes and one of them was a replica alicorn. Of course they’re going to avoid you.” Silver deadpanned with her head looking up at Thorne as he stared out the window.

“It was pretty cool, though,” Dusk said through a yawn. He had the goggles Thorne had made for him strapped around his head and was laid down in the train seat. “Scary cool. Like, save the kingdom in a scary cool way.” He rambled.

Thorne smiled at that. “Thanks, Dusk. Maybe if something threatens the kingdom, I’ll go down as a hero. That’d change their opinions quickly…” He had looked back to the thestral colt, the window unable to retain his attention. His head turned to look at the mother who was just staring at Thorne behind her goggles. “...What?”

“You look better without the stubble shadow. And your mane has started to grow. I think it’d look nice long.”

“Out of left field, but okay. I’ll keep the face shaved and grow out my hair…” He brought flesh fingers to run over his freshly trimmed goatee. “Goatee is fine, though, yeah?”

Silver nodded. “Makes you look more refined. The shadow just made you look homeless.”

“I was homeless, Silver.”

The mare rolled her eyes. “Well you’ll have a home once you get done with this task.” That got a ‘mmm’ in response and him looking back out the window, watching the ponies milling about as the train made ready to leave. She sighed. “Still worried about what they think?”

“No, not really. It stung, but I knew it was coming… Just this feeling that has stuck with me since arriving in Canterlot. Inside the castle I didn’t feel it, but every time I walked outside, it was there…” Thorne admitted. “It was the reason I got so angry and skewered that dummy after first meeting you… Thought maybe I’d dealt with it, but as we walked the streets, it came back. Just less of it, I guess. It’s hard to describe.”

Dusk let another adorable yawn. “Maybe you’re not good in cities, Thorne.”

“I didn’t feel it in Vanhoover when I arrived there. And it’s just this feeling of unease. I hope I don’t feel it in the Crystal Empire, but I just know I will.” Thorne responded with a sigh.

“What do you think is causing it?” Silver asked as the train began to lurch and the last few passengers found their seats.

“Magic. But I don’t think it is good magic. I don’t know. It’s all new and unfamiliar. You two try to get some rest. It’s a long train ride.” Thorne looked back to the two and offered a soft smile to dissuade them from pressing further.

Thorne watched as the greenery passed them. They had their tickets paid for by the princesses and now sat on the Friendship Express, a train that ran all over Equestria. Apparently it was the only train. His companions had made themselves at home, snuggling with one another opposite him.

The seats were obscenely pink--the train itself was just as pink. Green carpet clashed violently with the pink, but gave it this look of grass. The cars were spacious and rivaled the old steam passenger trains he knew of his world. Six cubicles with two varnished benches in those cubicles and the benches facing one another. Each bench was cushioned and comfortably sat three or even four ponies, depending on their size and how close they wanted to be.

Yet the train wasn’t crowded. It seemed the train was more of a private affair and mostly served as was needed. He wondered where they found the coal to run it, for he could see steam pouring from the engine. Though he had heard ‘rock farming’ was something ponies did, so maybe they had a way of growing certain things. The idea amused yet terrified him. Ponies with the capabilities to grow certain minerals as they needed would be gold-egg-laying geese.

‘How has this society not collapsed into anarchy? Not fallen into greed?’ He asked himself, eyes going listless and ignoring the gorgeous scenery that rushed by. ‘Is this what humanity could achieve if we worked together? Worked for the good of your fellow po--human.’ He caught his grammatical slip-up and smirked inwardly. The smirk faded swiftly as his mind went darker.

‘This is what Master seeks to destroy. I find myself questioning it more and more yet still no answers. Why summon an assassin? Why does some hermit want these four dead?’

He ran his hand over his face and rubbed at his eyes. ‘Why am I now growing a conscious? Has it always been there? Is it something about this world? Something about the inhabitants who have been nothing but kind and open, if a bit hesitant? … Am I just a sucker for a cute face? Is that it? Or maybe I’m getting a sense of fulfillment I never got back home.’

Thorne shut his eyes and crossed his arms. ‘Maybe I need to immerse myself in the darkness. See the underside of this world. I’m sure it’s there. Remind my heart that all isn’t as it seems.’ There was a mental pause. His eyes opened and looked over his black attire. ‘Fuck, that was full of edge and angst. Gods above…’

His vision went to Dusk and Silver who still slept peacefully. ‘Things do not add up. Assassinations happen for political gain. Yet this doesn’t have anything seemingly political about it. It seems more like revenge if that’s the case, but then why go through the ordeal of summoning another being? Surely there are spiteful beings in this realm that would do it. And some hermit that is out in the sticks doesn’t seem the type to have enemies that are the four powerful alicorns. So what am I missing?’

A sigh escaped him and he rolled his head back, staring at the ceiling. ‘A lot. There is a huge gap there I feel. None of the threads add up. And here I am going to kill a bear.’

Thorne was idly humming a tune as the train carried on into the night. They had just stopped at a town he didn’t catch the name of and allowed everyone to disembark to stretch their legs. Now they were back at full speed, chugging along the tracks. Silver and her colt had settled back, enjoying a snack of sweets that was brought by the stewardess that occasionally travelled the isles.

The human had lain down in the seat he occupied. He had already removed the crossbow and set it under the seat, but now he had to also remove his belt and pouches in order to lie comfortably. He had a leg propped up over a bent knee, his foot bobbing to the slow beat of his own hum.

“That song you hum… It is mournful. What is it?” Silver finally asked, making Thorne open his eyes and look to her.

“I’m sorry, is it distracting? I can stop.” He offered.

“No,” Silver shook her head, “just wondering what it is from and why it sounds so sad. I’ve found you often humming it to yourself.”

Thorne sat up and shuffled in the seat to get comfortable again. “It’s actually something I came up with. And it sounds sad because the mental image in my head when I hum it is sad.”

“Why is it sad?” Dusk asked, that look of childlike wonderment blazing through those expressive pony eyes.

Thorne had to look away. “Because I always loved stories of tragic heroes. The image in my head is a hero who must accept a pact with something unspeakably evil or those he loves will die. The pact will allow him to save the ones he loves. They beg him to not accept it as they lie dying around him, but he knows the only choice is to accept or they all die in vain. In exchange for their lives, he’ll become twisted and scorned for the evil powers he has.”

“But he’s still a hero, isn’t he?” Dusk pressed, leaning forward in the seat to hear more.

“He is. That heroic heart burns brightly.”

“So then he needs to hide himself in order to do good?”

“Very good, kid. That is indeed how the story goes.” Thorne looked back to Dusk with a hint of pride, glad he could grasp the idea. “It is sad that he is shunned for what he had to choose, but he’s still a hero through-and-through. He merely needs to change his approach.” He winked and put his hands on his knees. “Want to hear the little song that goes with it?”

The colt gave an excited flap of his wings and rose up. “I do, I do!” He floated back down and turned to look at his mother who just chuckled and looked to Thorne with a nod to continue.

His chest rose and fell a moment, steadying himself and finding his voice. What rang out was haunting and melancholic, his pipes opening up and shifting his tone to depths of the abyss that took Silver by surprise.

“When darkness falls upon you, I’ll be there.
I will save you from torment and despair.
I’ll pay any price to see you smile.
And when the people turn,
And wish to see me burn,
I’ll seethe in the darkness they revile.
Grieve not my pain, my friends.
I chose this in the end.
Grieve not my pain, my friends…
I chose this in the end.”

He concluded the hymn and sat back, eyes opening to see Dusk moved to tears. Silver held firm, her hoof now stroking at the boy’s mane. “It’s so sad, momma! I could see the scene!” The colt exclaimed, his blurry vision turning to look up at his mother. She smiled softly and nodded. “Ya, mai mik Feli.”

“The power of music, apparently.” Thorne said as a wave of discomfort washed over him for making a child cry. He shifted in the seat and lay himself back down. “Like I said, Dusk, it is merely a little mental image. A telling description of what could be.”

“A telling description of what you want to be,” Silver corrected.

“Maybe. But I am a mercenary, not a hero. A mercenary that has done several criminal things back in his world. Not things that a hero would do.” Thorne retorted.

“It doesn’t hurt to try and aim for lofty heights. Even if you aim for the moon and miss, you still wind up among the beautiful stars.”

“If you say so.” Thorne huffed and closed his eyes.

“Why wear a vest and shirt when it covers nothing a stallion would be looking at?” Thorne deadpanned.

“Fashion and function. Pockets and slight armor.” Silver remarked proudly. “But where did such a question come from?” She had confusion written all over her face.

“Huh. Touché.” Thorne replied. “And because you complimented my appearance the other day. It looks quite nice on you. But I was curious if it was to accentuate on certain appeals. After reading up on pony anatomy, I could understand it.” He glanced to Dusk, trying to keep the conversation child-friendly.

Silver gave him a flat look. “Sounds like you’re admitting to being a stallion to who steals glances. Mai Feli, do not grow up to be a stallion like this one.”

“You wound me!” Thorne replied with feigned hurt feelings. Dusk snickered at the human who made an over-the-top gesture by putting his wrist to his temple as if fainting. He even made the motion of falling over in the seat. “Besides,” Thorne smirked, “I only steal glances from those who catch the eye.”

Silver smirked at the show. “Oh? Is that how it is? And what made me catch your eye?”

Thorne put a hand to his chin as he lay there. “I’m not sure. That dance that one night was lovely. You have an interesting language and I’m sure a whole story to tell.”

“Not much to go on,” Silver stated, “but I suppose it’s enough.” She shrugged.

“I suppose I haven’t asked much about your past or your culture. We’ve barely sat and talked.” He looked over to Dusk from his makeshift lounge. “And of course I’ve not gotten a chance to get to know you either, kid.”

“You never asked. You just kind of… accepted us, Thorne.” Silver shifted in her seat as if the words were awkward.

“You both accepted me, so why wouldn’t I?”

“That is true. Just… our kind has a lot of myths and legends that have faded over the years since the Nightmother’s return, but some of the feelings linger.” The thestral mare gave a remorseful sigh, her goggled eyes going from the human to the window, watching as the snowy landscape came into view.

Dusk looked at his mother and then followed her eyes. He boosted himself up with his wings in order to see. He flopped back down and gave a giddy shake, “We’re almost there!”

Thorne sat up. “Oh?” Golden eyes fell upon snow that sheeted the land. “I suppose we are.”