The Hunter's Trek

The Hunter’s Trek

Chapter 6: The Spark…

Fuzzy.

Everything was fuzzy and numb by the time Edmond had awoken. He woke a bit sluggishly, everything too unfocused to make any coherent shapes out of. And for some reason, he awoke from his daze standing.

The room he was in may have been too blurred to make any detail of, but it didn’t seem to look anything like a cell. Nor did it seem as if he was the only other occupant here.

They were not pony, that was for sure, but they were handing something to him. A cloak? No, not a cloak. Although it did look like-

‘When did I take off my overcoat?’

As soon as the thought entered his mind, he realised that his surroundings were starting to clear up slightly, however slow he was regaining his vision.

Being too sluggish at the current moment had caused his attempts to try and grab the coat himself all failures, leaving these strange creatures to do it all for him, after they had come to the same conclusion.

It was after they successfully equipped the piece to his body that one of the three currently present, parted from the group, heading towards a- what is it? -a table? Another followed shortly after, the both of them picking up some objects, looking little more like two blunted skewers, two hatchets and a rectangular frame to his temporarily impaired eyes.

When the pair returned to Edmond’s side, he could feel feeling returning to the rest of his body. At the same time, his vision improved significantly. The creatures take note of this development, the one holding the hatchets—now recognised as his axe—held one up to him in offering to take it.

He reached out to grab the axe and, upon touching it, a surge of recent memories entered the forefront of his mind. Feeling had completely returned to his body, his eyes focused, and he then remembered want had happened to himself before he had woken.

The feeling of something coursing through his bloodstream, recognised as his own narcotic mix, one only he would know about.

Edmond knew the drug used, as, though he had no personal experience with it, there were times those that did have the experience, told him of the feeling they had felt.

Mind free of the fog clouding it, Edmond took his first good look at his surroundings. Many of which was still hidden behind these creatures, which stood uncomfortably close to him. But from what he could gather, he could see that the room he was in was made of some dark blue stone and two rectangular tables, made from a light brown coloured wood, with weapons situated across one, and a crossbow on the other.

‘Unrecognisable civilisation structural material. Definitely a new one. One even I don’t about,’ he thought. Upon further investigation of his surroundings, Edmond took note of one of the creatures turning towards the table off to left. The one which held the crossbow. He then noted the quiver attached to his back, previously hidden by the point of view the archer kept in front of him.

As the archer came to the side of the light-wood table, they grabbed the weapon atop it, lifting it up and pointing it directly at Edward. That was when he saw the bolt already loaded in the crossbow.

Fear and adrenaline seized him as he heard the click of the crossbow releasing, the bolt flying toward him as it cut the air.

He ducked backwards in time, the arrow grazing him and sticking into the opposite wall. Unfortunately, he had landed in the arms of one of the creatures who had moved behind him, to keep Edmond from escaping. The creature then grabbed him by the arms with its tri-clawed talons, holding him in place as a second bolt was loaded into the crossbow.

Edmond struggled to be released from the iron grip of a bird’s claw. As the crossbow was pointed towards him, however, an idea struck him, almost like the arrow would have, had he not enacted as soon as the thought crossed him.

What he had decided upon, was tucking in his legs and letting gravity take himself, and his captor, down towards the ground, the bolt flying seamlessly past and sticking itself into another wall.

The act of this move caused the creature holding him to roll over onto its back, following the force Edmond, and enter a daze. Edmond used this opportunity to pick himself up and strike the thing in the chest with his axe, severely wounding it.

The sound of the drawstring settling in place forced him to abandon the buried axe, least he were to get caught by a bolt trying to pulling it out.

As the bolt flew past in yet another miss, Edmond gazed around the room for an unequipped weapon he could. There was the other of the creatures, currently poised with a broadsword, ready to attack. And then, he saw one of his short swords lying on the ground, between him and the other sword-wielder, just a little to right.

The click of the crossbow’s firing mechanism was what brought him from his mind as rushed straight for the sword on the ground. This time, the bolt managed to clip the back of his head, drawing blood and tearing away some hairs, causing him to stumble and fall forwards, just short of his goal.

The swordfighter drew his weapon back, preparing to strike down upon the fallen man, who had managed to pull himself forward and towards his fallen sword, tucking in his legs hoping to keep them attached to himself.

Grabbing his sword, Edmond rose to his feet, holding the wound upon the back of his head and wiping his hand across it, drawing a smear of blood. As the creature drew its sword up to strike down at him, Edmond braced himself for the oncoming attack.

The sword struck his own as Edmond moved to the side, stumbling a bit as the force shook him off balance. He righted himself as another click sounded the chamber and a bolt shot towards him. he took to the side, as the bolt grazed the metal of the blade he held, stumbling a bit in fearful desperation to stay alive.

There was just too many, and no way he could focus on dealing with the two at the same time. Maybe if he were in the right mind, but this time the two of them had him at a disadvantage few ever had. They surprised him.

He decided to deal with the archer first, deal the range before it could deal with him. As he searched for an easy way to close the distance, and disable the archer, the other creature had walked to Edmond’s side and, upon gazing in the sword warriors direction, Edmond himself caught sight of his buried axe, left in the torso of the late creature.

When sword-warrior had finally made it to his side, it held its blade ready to strike down upon the man just as the crossbow was raised up to meet the sight of Edmond’s chest. As the iron blade fell down towards him, and the newly loaded blot was released unto flesh, Edmond threw himself to the floor, sword tightly gripped in his right hand, head tucked in as he rolled along the ground and away from the aggressor stopping just short of tripping in his haste. Taking grip of his axe, Edmond pulled the bloodied blade free of flesh and reared to throw the weapon straight for the archer, who had levelled another loaded shot at him.

As axe left hand, the bolt was let loose from crossbow shortly after, both connecting with something. The axe finding its place in the opposer’s shoulder, while the blot, knocked slightly off course, had been stuck in the plating of sword wielder's armour, who had hoped to sneak up on the Fail, hindering it for but a second.

With the archer knocked out of the way, Edmond turned towards the sword-wielder with his own sword clutched in both hands, held to inclining on his right. As soon as it got within range, the sword-wielder swung its weapon back and took a swing straight on Edmonds side, who matched it with a parrying strike to the left while stepping away and clear of any retaliation and holding the sword up, the blade itself pointing towards the attacker.

With a step and a swing, Edmond slashed down upon the creature’s breastplate, only for the blade to harmlessly slide across the plating. The creature just stood there, looking down upon the man’s poor attempt at piercing the armour.

Edmond, however, just stood there, his shocked expression having turned to analytical. While he was distracted, the creature held up its sword to swing the cold blade down upon him.

Seeing the change in stance, Edmond quickly raised his sword to match and block the opposer.

He was too slow to steady himself from the oncoming strike, forcing him to step off to the side, least he topples over. It was after he had separated himself enough that Edmond saw what he was looking for.

‘The bolt!’ It had struck the creature in the shoulder, in a thin gap between the two pieces of plating.

With a goal set, Edmond moved into stance, face set and eyes focused, ready to finish the fight and leave.

The creature moved forward, lifting its sword up and brought it down with incredible force. Edmond matched it by bringing his own sword up to block the strike, while also widening his own stance to brace himself from the force of the broadsword.

He pushed the sword off to the side, drawing back and preparing to thrust his sword in between the plating on its other side, strike at a weak point. But the collision with flesh never came as another blade quick contacted and threw the other away.

It then became a battle of who could land a blow first upon the others’ flesh, both sides focused and matched upon the other. There were clashes, as sparks flew, and struggles to gain any forward ground. Sometimes a blade would cut through air or strike uselessly upon the solid stone ground of the room’s floor.

As the sword of the creature clashed down hard upon his own, Edmond was pushed downwards with a powerful strike. The two fighters faced a power struggle as they fought the strength of the other, Edmond saw his opportunity to strike at the thing’s shoulder. He twisted his sword to place it atop his opponent and, while he stepped to the side, he used the force it applied upon him to create a clear window and thrust upwards.

The point of the blade made contact with soft flesh and poked out the other side only slightly. Edmond took a moment before he turned his body around and, hands held behind him and on the sword, pushed his hands up, the arm flying off and to the side. The sword once held by the creature clattered down beside the fallen arm and a muted cry sounded behind the creature’s mask sounded at the same time. It then fell to the ground, too unsteady to stand anymore.

Edmond stood looming over the creature still drawing breath. He took his sword in his hand to unmask the strange being, slowly lifting the helmet with the flat of the weapon. As the helmet was slowly being lifted off the creature’s head, Edmond’s shock and confusion grew as what was underneath was revealed.

Behind that Chitin forged armour was the face of a pony.

“What?” he spoke under her breath as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “That… That’s also new…”

And then, as the pony in the armour slowly died of blood loss, a click once more sounded and a crossbow bolt buried itself within Edmond’s left shoulder.

He grunted as he fell back from the impact, his eyes flying towards the still-alive archer and stood, bringing his sword up and down upon the bolt shaft off, snapping it in half to fall to the ground.

He pushed through the searing pain in his shoulder as he made his way towards the archer, slowly.

The pony hidden behind the armour tried reloading the crossbow, as quickly as they could, with one of the fallen bolts, but before they could load in the bolt, Edmond kicked the weapon away.

He brought one foot upon the leg of the pony while holding out his sword up to their chest, keeping them pinned to the floor. Edmond then brought up the sword and brought it down upon the suit’s right forearm.

But the pony merely flinched slightly, not in pain, but in slight fear. And no blood flowed, from either side of the wound.

And then they struck. Or, at least, tried to.

Edmond caught the second limb by the wrist as it had started to rise. He then raised his sword, forearm still skewered on the blade, and, with a twist, broke the limb in two.

What was left of the arm fell to the ground with a clank as the arm impacted with the ground, but Edmond barely paid the limb any attention. He instead took brought sword down upon the arm currently held within his grasp and cleaved it at the elbow’s joint.

Once again, the pony in the suit barely reacted, giving only the slightest reaction, and when Edmond turned around the forearm to look on its insides, he found out why.

The suit was, to an extent, he believed, mechanical. The insides were nothing but what looked to be metal wiring and ancient-looking gears, possibly connecting to each of the three bird-like fingers.

The whole thing was new to Edmond, but, at the moment, he had to do something about the former owner of the limb extension.

He dropped the limb off to the side and kneeled beside the pony. The two stared intently at each other before Edmond lifted the helmet off the pony’s head and spoke.

“Hello there. Do you mind telling me where this place is?” he said, only gaining silence from the mare beneath him. “No? Damn. Well, that’s unfortunate. And I was really hoping for an answer, too.”

Still, silence.

Deciding upon wasting no more time, Edmond struck the pommel of his sword into the side of the pony’s head, knocking her out cold.

Standing up, Edmond sheathed his sword and went about collecting what things he had. Which included the axe he had used earlier that was left, discarded on the floor, and the other three from the other side of the small room placing them in their own spots on his coat. He also took his second sword, left on the same table as the axes, and sheathed it in its own scabbard.

Getting a better look around the room, Edmond spotted what looked like a door and headed straight towards it.

It was a single, long slab stone, smooth compared to the brick layout of the room, but not a single knob or crevice was visible upon the slab to give any hint to its purpose. But as Edmond focused on the stone, he could make out a rune carved into it, hard to make out on the dark material if it weren’t for the indentation.

Curiously, he placed his hand upon the rune. Edmond watched it as the carved stone glowed a soft blue before the door began to slowly slide up and into the rest of the wall, reminding him of one of those ancient Equestrian temples.

But just as he was about to step out of the room, a head poked out from around the corner, looking up at him. It was the head of a pony stallion, forest green in colour and not wearing the others had donned.

The two stared at each other for a good while, until the pony looked deeper into the room, spying the two bodies and the single, unconscious form further in. Then, looked up, the staring contest resuming another long while.

“Yeah… I think they had a little too much to drink. You might want to check on them,” said Edmond as he briskly made to leave as quickly as he could.

It was a good while before the sound of a shouting cry and hooves galloping forced him into a long sprint.

The sound of wooden doors creaking open, or striking stone as they were slammed open, carried behind him as he passed them, more running steps sounding out behind as the crowd increased and chased him down the hall.

After a long run through the halls of, what he assumed to be a temple, Edmond came to the end of it, where a wooden door stood just in front of him. Words seemed to have been carved into the door, marked in an unknown language.

Edmond barged right inside, looking around for another door after he closed the one behind him. Looking over the room, he noticed a lot of barrels, of varying size, on the left side and a forts worth of cannons and strapped, metal shots in a corner, away from the barrels. There was also a table against the far wall, with a small, cloth bag and a few packets, both beside an unknown object, sitting atop it, and another door sitting to his right.

There was a thud on the door from behind and Edmond broke into action, grabbing for one of the medium-sized barrels, dragging the heavy cargo to stall the breaking door.

He also had a feeling he knew what this room was.

It was a powder room.

One spark and this place would go up in a great, big blaze of glory. And that thought sent a shiver of fear up his spine.

But maybe he could use that.

Unfortunately, he had nothing to start the black powder with, so he set to stacking barrels to give him a chance at searching the room.

With the sound of possibly a thousand bodies batting at the door behind him, Edmond started searching.

His first stop was the cannons themselves, looking around for any matches, but all he found were empty linstocks and nothing more.

He then moved over to the table up against the wall, noticing some of the barrels starting to shift in front of the door.

When Edmond made it to the table, what it held surprised him and he picked up the previously unknown object.

“This is…” -- he frowned at the object and his brow furrowed in confusion – “since when did ponies advance to the point of the seventeenth-century arms?” Sure enough, the object in his hands had a barrel made of metal, framed by a wooden base and handle, while the bottom of it was covered in a dark metal of its own. It was a standard flintlock pistol.

‘These must be the powder and shots for the thing,’ he thought to himself as he took the two objects in question and stashed them under his coat and into a satchel that the ponies must have left him. before taking off with the rest of his things.

As he took the last of the packets from the table, an idea struck him the same time a rather loud crash shook the door, way behind and across the room.

Stashing the last of them, save one, he grabbed a single metal shot from the bag and placed it upon the table. Remembering what little his grandfather once told him about his own musket, Edmond set to work on loading the pistol, to the best of his ability, starting by setting it at half-cock.

‘Let’s see. Powder in the pan and into the barrel… then stuff the paper on top… and push the ball inside the barrel.’ -- Edmond spoke to himself as he performed the actions as he went. -- ‘Then take the rod and push it all… and finished!’

Just then, the door opened a crack as every single creature there put their weight upon it.

And with that, Edmond turned and ran for the other down, opening it and rushing to the other side, just stopping to poke the loaded firearm through a crack in the door, and waited.

Then, the other door slammed open and every pony, armoured or not, ran inside, looking around for the runaway prisoner. And one pony, not protected by any form of plating, light or heavy, saw the barrel of the flintlock, sticking out of the crack of a door on their right, all too late.

Edmond set the pistol to full cock and pulled the trigger.

A spark was created as the flint struck the steel pan, that was soon to light a flame that set powder up, and a second later, the shot travelled down the barrel and flew towards one of the larger powder barrels, still warm as it sailed through the stiff air.

And it blew the keg.

The result, a large explosion that shock the dark-stone ruins.

Edmond, and the door he used as a shield, were both thrown to the floor as the explosion demolished the entire room and anything inside.

He lay there, under the door, and in ash and soot as he slowly got over the shock blast of the kegs. There wasn’t a ringing in his ears or anything, but he was definitely in pain.

After some time, and recovery, he moved up to his feet, pushing the door off the top of him, and looked down the dark hall, lit barely by deep blue coloured runes.

“Well, I guess it’s time to find the rest of my stuff and find an exit,” he said as set off, deeper into the temple.

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A unicorn mare, with a forest green coat and a light blue mane and tail, with strands of navy here and there, looked behind her shoulder nervously, ears pinned backwards, as she hiked along a forest path. She wasn’t sure but had a feeling she was being followed.

Looking back up the trail, she tried to focus her mind on other things and relax. But a shadow wouldn’t let her

She swore she felt her blood trail down long before the painfully registered.

A large blade lifted her up by the back of the neck, and a tall, skinny creature moved its arm at impossible curvature for any animal limb, forcing the poor mare to gaze upon cold, blue spots upon a smooth face. The rest of its body was jagged, with two impressive ones one either shoulder, and looked heavily armoured, despite not making a single sound, and looking quite nimble.

The thing lifted another, handless, limb, which started shifting to form hooked claws, and grabbed onto her head and wrapped a hooked claw around her muzzle before could attempt to scream. Not that she could, with a blade pierced through her windpipe and all.

The beast stared the dying mare in her terror-filled eyes as the light in them slowly faded as it slowly drew its blade-limb from her neck wound and held it against the side of her neck. As the mare weakly kicked out, the monster drew the blade back and sliced through hide, tissue, flesh and bone like butter, decapitating her.

Her body fell to the dirt path as the mare’s eyes lost the light of life.

The creature threw her head far into the brush and grabbed the body to do the same, picking it up by the leg and dragging it deep inside the forest.