The whipping propellers faded from hearing, and soon the airship was a speck on the lake’s horizon. The Yellow Rose cruised onwards after it. In a mere fifteen minutes though, it was all but invisible.

Captain Gideon did not pace. He did nothing that would overly alarm his crew. No doubt though that they were all keenly aware of the captain’s mood. They all stayed a good distance from him, only one would approach after seemingly losing an informal lottery among his friends. The two would exchange terse words, and the sailors would skitter away to fulfill their new duties.

Cold Snap was the only one that stayed close to the simmering ball of feathers and anger. Even then, he figured that his placement was solely because he said nothing and otherwise drew no attention to himself.

He watched the captain as he leaned against his ship’s railing. Every movement of the griffon’s body was tense and radiated a controlled fury. None could tell who would be the victim of that fury.

As Lilith’s (and who else could it be?) airship faded into the distance, the captain’s sharp eyes traced it, watched where it circled, and widened as it stopped. He quickly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small brass case. With a quick twist, he opened it and shook out a rolled page.

Since he was on the opposite side of the page, Snap couldn’t tell what it was exactly, but the light glinting through the paper showed all sorts of smooth squiggles and dots. A map perhaps? A map of this lake maybe?

Before he could muster the courage to ask Captain Gideon what he was learning, the captain threw off his coat, leaving him only with his pair of pistols and saber. A single pump of his wings threw him into the sky, and in a few seconds, he was nothing more than a circling speck.

“We’re hosed, aren’t we?”

Snap nearly jumped out of his skin. He glared over his shoulder at the suspiciously moving rope tangle. “Did you have to do that?”

“Bad things happen when I let you out of my sight. So, I’m sticking around.”

Nebula worked his nose through the ropes and stared at Cold Snap with what had to be a smirk. “Besides, I’ve been practicing combat magic and all.”

For a brief moment, the oppressive gloom lingering from Lilith’s flyover lifted, and Snap laughed. His friend doing combat magic? The thought was so absurd that his laugh slipped into cackling. “You?” he asked between wheezy breaths.

Nebula’s single visible eye glared at him. Snap kept going. The laughter was the only thing keeping the oppressive reality from crushing him. They had fought so long and so hard. Now that they were within grasp of victory, a vulture came in and snatched it away.

“What are you going to do? Shock them?”

Thoughts of Lilith jumping like a street performer chased by conjured lightning tipped him over the edge and his cackling became deep belly laughs.

For just a moment, the stress of the moment vanished. Just like that, Cold Snap felt as if he were young again. Not that he was old, but youth is a state of mind.

That moment ended with a-

Zap!

“Yeoww!” Snap yelped as he launched into the air, achieving a flight only imaginable by birds, pegasi, and griffons.

He landed with a huff and a thump and glared at the rope. “Really?”

“You wanted an example,” the rope responded.

“I think you just wanted to show off. Besides, what good will that do, annoy them?”

Nebula-inside-the-rope hmmed thoughtfully. “The utility of magic, despite what the dear captain said, is to be extremely versatile. You can combine spells or use frameworks of others with different effects. Example: an illumination spell is very simple. Most unicorns learn it early on. However, modify the Spark spell with illumination, and poof! No eyebrows!”

Snap raised his own. “Are you sure that’s how it works?”

Nebula shrugged with his voice. “I guess. I’m still figuring some of this out. Besides, if that fails, there’s always the ol’ reliable spell.”

The bundle of rope parted, and Cold Snap crossed his eyes at the pistol barrel pointed vaguely in his direction. He pushed the weapon a little to the side. “Uhhh. Yeah. Reliable. Where did you get that?”

“I found it.”

“In?” Snap asked as he looked at the worn barrel of the revolver.

“The captain’s cabin.”

Snap sighed. “You don’t think you might have gone a teensy weensy bit overboard?”

The pistol wavered a bit, and Snap could see the light play off the revolver’s cylinder. He vaguely imagined he saw men on ponies chasing other men on ponies, but that was just obviously his overworked mind projecting.

A shadow flitted across the deck, and the captain landed in a whoosh. Nebula and pistol disappeared. Captain Gideon faced Snap. “There might yet be a chance. They are drifting along the shore. They don’t know where to go yet.”

He put such emphasis on the last word that Snap knew it was a matter of time before that changed. Captain Gideon leaned close. “Tell me, and tell me truthfully. Do you still feel those trees? Do they not pull on you still?”

Cold Snap considered the captain’s odd request. It made sense though. Ever since his incident with the talisman, he seemed to know where these trees were. That sensation had only grown as either the time or distance shortened. Where it had been a vague feeling and a nudge far out at sea, it was an irresistible drag on his very soul in this inland lake.

It was as if he were caught in the pull of a magnet, and the only way to seek relief was to flee to the epicenter of its action. He nodded. “All the time now.”

Snap looked over the bow of the ship. His eyes took in the cliffs and ragged coastline of the old lake shore. Without tearing his gaze from it, he gave his first order.

“Tell the pilot to bear twelve degrees starboard.”

Captain Gideon pulled out his map and studied it. His claw traced a line from the lake’s mouth to the far shores. “There are several coves in that area that may fit. Grimlock wrote little of it though. We may as well be groping in the dark. However, Lilith will be doing the same. So we have that advantage.”

With that, he relayed the command. As the crew scuttled around their new duties, he turned back to Snap. “As far as I can reason things, we are in the final lap of this race. I will need you close by me if we are to outwit Lilith. You’ve given us a general heading. Let’s hope that it gets us right to their doorstep.”

As the Yellow Rose made her turn, Captain Gideon stood near the rail. His eyes held that far off look of deep introspection. Cold Snap glanced over at Nebula, but the pile of rope didn’t offer any suggestion.

Was he thinking of Lilith? Perhaps this fabled garden? Or was he thinking of something else entirely? His own past? The captain was always thinking about something. The trick was guessing what.

Snap joined him on the rail. The far off shoreline, faded by distance, changed ever so slowly. He pondered his avenues for learning what the captain’s inner thoughts.

Captain Gideon broke the silence. “It has come to my attention that nature and history share much in common.”

“Pardon?” Cold Snap asked in bafflement.

The griffon looked over at him. “I mean they have much in common in how they proceed. Where I studied, there were those proposing the theory that natural processes are inexorable and occurring over nearly unimaginable time scales. All observed results may be explained by current phenomena. This lake would be explained by slow erosion processes happening over hundreds of lifetimes. Some try to view history, especially further back, as a monolithic event that somehow changed into a modern era.”

Having not studied as much history as he probably should have, Snap was a little confused and could only hang on to the coattails of whatever the captain was saying.

“In reality, both are defined by crisis. A status quo remains for decades, or perhaps centuries. This lake, or an empire, may have remained for a thousand years, yet in one hour of crisis, everything changes. After the crisis, nothing of the old way remains as it was. Either it adapts to the new standard, or it is cast aside.”

He pointed to the river draining from the lake. “This lake’s crisis was when something failed and nothing could stop it from cutting a gorge through bedrock and blasting its sediment far into the sea.”

He looked back to Snap. “Our crisis? We are undergoing it right now. Whatever comes within the next few days will define us and an era.”

Snap wasn’t sure what to say to that at first. So he focused on the rolling wake beneath them as he gathered his thoughts. Looking at the water still, he gave words to his thoughts. “I suppose. Had you not attacked the Golden Hound, I would probably be back on the road to home now. I’d be well on the way to learning the family trade. I guess that was my status quo.”

“So you do understand. Our own lives are an ever changing flux of status quo and crisis. My involvement on the shipping predation was your crisis, for which I hope you do not hold too much of a grudge against me.”

Snap shrugged. “I guess I can’t. I’m...happy? This has been hard, but it’s made me better.”

The rope pile squeaked in rage. Captain Gideon made no sign of noticing.

“What was your crisis?” Snap asked before he thought about the question.

The gray figure hummed thoughtfully. His eyes drifted to the far shore where an airship was drifting just out of sight. “She was. After her, I questioned many things about what I learned, what I was doing with that knowledge, and what it might mean. Knowledge on its own is not evil, but some knowledge can only be used for evil.

“That is where she and I disagreed. She thought knowledge could be redeemed, morality scrubbed from black and white into an endless gray that would be called white. I thought that knowledge of good and evil, despite its curse, was a thing to be respected. Forgetting or obliterating history solves nothing and curses others to repeat a crisis.”

“And not everything Man created was for evil,” Cold Snap interjected.

The griffon tore his attention from the far shore. “What do you mean? Have I not explained they were violent, a culture of war and vice?” he asked with a pointed glance.

Snap sat upon the deck and pawed the worn timbers. “As you said, knowledge is not inherently evil. Look at this ship. Everything on it could be repurposed. I think you mentioned this at some point.”

Captain Gideon nodded his assent. Snap continued. “Look at it this way. The creature known as ‘Man’ was a complicated thing. Ever since he struggled with the curse of knowledge, he may create, but the desires of the heart determine their use. If good reigns, then you reach an epoch of advancement, peace, and prosperity. As for the other, that is where you find the dark periods of war and destruction that you so fear.”

Snap looked over at the growing shoreline. “I think that Man has a unique blessing.”

For once, for one single solitary moment, it was Captain Gideon’s turn to be confused. “How so?”

“Man has the power to choose. He is not governed by Harmony. Nor is he fated to dwell in Chaos. His history might be stained by bloodshed, perhaps on a scale I can’t even imagine, but when he chooses to pursue Harmony, isn’t that a more incredible thing given his potential for evil?”

For several minutes, the only sounds were the slap of water and the rumble of the steam engines beneath them. Finally, Captain Gideon assented. “Yes. I suppose it does.”

Another minute passed. Then the captain chuckled. “So, you still claim to be no prophet?”

Snap rolled his eyes. “Not a chance. I just say smart things on occasion.”

“Perhaps you can split the difference and go into therapy. Some pay gladly for others to listen to their problems.”

“If I can’t keep a real job, I’ll keep it in mind,” he joked back.

That got a short laugh out of the normally serious captain. Cold Snap counted that as a win.

In time, the far shore grew clearer. It was much like the shore around the lake’s exit, but less scored by its drainage. Lilith’s balloon drifted, still searching for the right landing site.

Snap chose to ignore the airship and stared down at the water. The water was still deep and dark. He saw leaves drifting past them and realized that they were flowing far faster than the wind and their own speed should account for. When he brought this to Captain Gideon’s attention, he nodded in comprehension.

“This lake has its own currents. In fact, I would venture to guess that it has tributaries of Amareizonian proportions, but they are all subterranean. Each one of them seeping through porous stones from the high mountains. The crew has already noted the chill in these waters despite the local climate,” he said as he gestured to the distant snowy peaks.

Cold Snap nodded. Such an amazing place the world was. And to think that he would possibly have gone his whole life without ever realizing it! Nebula might-wait...where was Nebula?

He looked over at the rope pile only to find the whole roll gone, his friend and his new pistol nowhere to be seen. No doubt he was waiting in the proverbial wings to do...something. Probably something absurd.

He returned his attention to Captain Gideon, who in a surprising change of pace, had decided to remain on deck beside him and delegate his orders to messengers from the wheelhouse or boiler room. The griffon was still in his pensive mood. He stared out into a distance beyond distance on these waters. His coattails fluttered in the breeze as he watched the world go by and his crisis approach.

Perhaps he should leave the captain to his musings, but Cold Snap wasn’t always known to make the best of choices. “Captain? About what we find, what becomes of it?”

A few seconds later, Captain Gideon answered. “I suppose it depends. Most likely I shall see this garden and insure that it is never found by the likes of Lilith again. It shall remain undisturbed until the final judgment.”

He said it with such finality that Cold Snap knew that it would be so.

This time, the silence was awkward. Snap never handled that kind of silence well. So he started feeling uncomfortable and nervous. “What comes next?”

Instantly, he regretted his words as the captain locked on him with a glare that made him feel like a hare before the hawk. “I believe I made myself clear. Lilith shall never have a place like this. This garden is sacred. I will not allow it.”

“So you believe it’s real?”

“As real as death and eternity. Who are you to doubt it? You feel its reality stronger than us all.”

Cold Snap couldn’t disagree with that. This place was special. It had seen the birth of a world and would see the end of it. That might have been his “prophetic” instinct going haywire though.

Gradually, the far shore became not so far. He and the captain moved into the wheelhouse to give more direct instructions to the command crew. Snap gave his bearings with the certainty of a compass. As they grew closer to shore, the ship’s pilot sometimes had to deviate to avoid some obstacle, but Snap always got them back on the right course.

Now, the ship was resting nearly in the shadow of cliffs ringing a large bay. As Gill and a few other sailors sounded depths, the pilot began planning a bit of a bold move: docking at the cliff wall. There was a low area of the cliffs that would be just higher than the ship’s low decks.

Gill came back in and quickly conferred with the pilot with much nodding. The ship rumbled. They would dock in this foreign land.

The crew bounded from ship to shore, driving anchors and tying ropes until finally the ship’s gangplank crashed into the rocky shore. Cold Snap followed Captain Gideon. Nebula joined him, and Mr. Horn seemed to have come out of his self-imposed isolation to see what the matter was.

They gathered at the shore. Captain Gideon turned to Cold Snap with a wordless question. Snap wordlessly pointed up the cliff to a ragged almost-trail that led into a cleft in the stony walls. High above that near the old lake boundary, the cliff walls had openings that looked slightly too square to be natural. Further on, there was a cut out in the cliff bounded by what looked like cut stone. The captain turned to his officers. “We shall go in with a small contingent. I will take Mr. Snap, his friend, and Mr. Horn if he will be civil, as well as twenty armed volunteers.”

The captain turned back to the gunnery captain. “Prepare Mr. Maxim’s contribution to bring with us. We leave in half an hour. Keep the ship well-ordered and the crew alert.”

The officers scattered to fulfill their orders. Already, there were volunteers, mostly griffons and unicorns, lining up to go into the dark world. Such was their devotion to the captain that they had to be turned away. Each one was well-armed with a repeating rifle and revolver. A small wagon barely wider than a pony joined them, but Snap had no idea what it was for.

One of the crew’s zebras came and passed out small satchels that hung around their necks, but none of the crew put them on. So, Cold Snap didn’t put his on either.

Captain Gideon looked skyward and frowned. Snap followed his gaze and saw Lilith’s airship slowly growing larger. “We must move now,” he commanded.

The group advanced up the rocky shelf and made for the trail. Stones clattered as they traveled and hooves against stone echoed around them. Slowly, the gap in the walls grew, as did Lilith’s airship.

What had been a simple cut in the rock from a distance proved to be a massive cleft. The walls were washed smooth as if by the cutting action of water, and the floors were free of all but the most minor debris.

Light from the outside world carried on for a while, but it eventually grew too dim. The group halted and the marines hung the zebra’s charms around their necks. Snap did the same and gasped as the gloomy tunnel brightened as if it were noon. The advance continued.

An hour at least passed in an ever-upward climb. Thus far, they looked nothing like his dream. The walls remained clean and worn, but sometimes they narrowed, forcing them to go single file or skirt potholes formed by the swirling current. It wound terribly. He had no way to tell how far they had traveled because they seemed to do more turning than traveling.

As they traveled, the walls grew less sculpted and more rectangular. Smooth curves were replaced by cut stone, and their way forward grew straight. These were not water worn, as if they were added long after the action that cut the tunnel.

Time had been relatively kind to this place. It was still traversable, but it was showing its age. They passed crumbling doorways and collapsed rooms. The walls had shifted inwards, spilling sand and roots into their path.

They must be close to the surface. Sure enough, the hallway opened into a large chamber with different exits. The left one gleamed with sunlight. Captain Gideon forced a small diversion to investigate it.

It was a gallery of sorts. Columns supported the roof, and several windows looked down onto the lake beneath them. The Yellow Rose rode at her anchorage and looked so small. The gallery ended in an open porch that must have been the waterfront in centuries past. Lilith’s craft was nowhere in sight.

“Is it close?” the captain asked.

“We’re nearly standing on it,” Snap nodded.

Captain Gideon pointed to the two crewmates with the wagon and ordered them to establish them in one of the alcoves. Others of the crew offloaded ropes and other mountaineering equipment deemed unnecessary in this subterranean city. Once that was accomplished, the rest gathered to plunge deeper into the forgotten city.

More halls passed as before, their rooms filled with rotten detritus and artifacts of lives long gone. The pull of the trees on his soul compelled Snap to push forward. Soon, it was him leading the group, and not the venerable captain. He passed an intersection that suddenly dead-ended.

He felt his goal so close that he couldn’t stop now. He backtracked, and found one of the side rooms had a collapsed wall. Beyond that lay another hallway.

Then, he saw them. Bones. They lay in small heaps against a stone or wedged in a gap in the wall. Not many at all, but enough to give him chills. So, his dreams were right about that, and possibly more. The crew muttered softly at this, but they continued.

Suddenly, Cold Snap realized that he recognized this place. It was as it was from his dreams. They lay haphazard, tumbled like an upended graveyard. Ponies, griffons, and more. He couldn’t help but shudder at the sight and the crunch they made under hoof. Once again, his dreams were right.

He led the group further down the hallway, his instincts never deviating from the path. Soon, the walls echoed with dry crackling of abandoned bones. Then the hallway opened into another gallery, this one totally underground. Snap felt that incessant pull to the right. That pull urged him into a trot.

Then he found himself prostrate on the floor, nursing a bloody nose, and watching the doorway swirl with magical power. The way was blocked.

“Ah, I see you’ve arrived just in time,” a feminine voice said.

Author's Note

"YAAAHOOOOO!!!" a jubilant cry echoed through the crowded office.

The Publisher ducked as a bayonet came flying through the air and embedded itself in the plaster above him. The Author was somewhere in the mess that his office had become. He couldn't tell past the crates of ammo, MRES, and survival equipment.

Something clattered, followed by an excited giggle. Before the Publisher could wonder what the Author did now, the Author stumbled into view, a massive grin on his face. "WE AIN'T GOIN' TA WAR!"

The sheer volume had the Publisher's ears splayed backwards. He rubbed them to try to get some feeling back into them. "That...was a concern?"

The Author's head bobbed, and the helmet with its night vision goggles bobbled along with it. "You betcha! Given the current political climate, my models predicted a 45.7% chance of immanent civil unrest following election season. Further extrapolation indicated as much as a 25% chance for regional Balkanization within 3 years."

Words flew over the Publisher's head, and he blinked and squinted. The Author was definitely dressed the part, with a plate carrier, magazines, and pockets scattered across his body. Where there weren't magazines or pouches, there were first aid kits and radio equipment. Tourniquets and canteens seemed to fill all the empty space. "And thats"-

"That's very bad."

The Author smiled. "But with the Toupee Man back, those percentages have dropped to zero!"

The Publisher shook his head. "Wait. This was a one-sided statistic? What if it went the other way?"

"Pshh," the Author waved dismissively. "A giant nothin'-burger. Some may talk tough on the interwebz, but that's it. Once the guns come out, it all gets civil quick."

"But 2020..." the Publisher trailed off as the Author pulled out a Sturmgewehr 44.

"See," he said as he gave the rifle a test charge before setting it aside and pulling out a CETME.

"The Summer of Love happened in a very unique collection of conditions," he said and then tossed the CETME over his shoulder.

Then his eyes widened and caught the rifle in a flash. Setting it aside, he turned back to the Publisher, a Hi-Power already in his grip. "Those riots you reference, all occurred in localities where law enforcement was marginal and civilian involvement was neutral to passive."

He nodded at the Hi-Power and shoved it into his pocket, but as soon as he pulled it out, a rifle stock came out, and only through a massive series of contortions could he pull the K31 out of his Comically Undersized Pouch. He scratched his head and reached in once more to pull out a scope and clamp it on the weapon.

"Ahem."

The Author looked back at the Publisher. "Yes?" he said as he stopped messing with his Mauser.

"2020?" the Publisher said simply.

"Ah. Yes. See, they rioted in places with one common feature other than what I have mentioned."

He leaned close to the Publisher, his Suomi bumping the table as he did. "They didn't get shot. They tried to riot in Austin. That didn't last long," he nodded solemnly and shouldered his AKM.

The Publisher blinked. "Well...that's...fantastic?" he said with a great deal of uncertainty.

He shook off his confusion. "Could I just have your chapter submission and we get done with this farce?"

"Sure you wouldn't rather have a Steyr or an Enfield?"

The Publisher's piercing glare answered that question.

Paper rustled and guns clanked as the Author reached ever-deeper into his pouch. Finally, he pulled out a crumpled bundle and gave the roundish bundle to the Publisher.

The Publisher could only look on at the page in supreme disappointment. As soon as he looked up, the Author was gone, replaced by a pony-shaped collection of firearms and blades.

He sighed. "It's a way of life. Isn't it, Mr. Gummer?"

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Well...this last election was interesting. But now I can get back to getting real work done without getting interrupted by political texts and ads every other minute.

Cheap gas sounds nice. Little other news from this part of the world. Just sitting at my reloading bench pumping out blanks and 8mm Mauser.

Checked drawer for a pistol. There was not one in there. *Confused* Checked closet. Found Lee Enfield SMLE. Life is better.

Christmas is coming. Spend time with your loved ones.