Will of Steelby WojakWriterChapters1. Spite2. A Short Walk3. Preparations4. Blót5. Calm1. SpiteTHWACK The late afternoons scorching sun beat down on the glistening muscles of my back. THWACK Sweat, born from a long day of toil, sparkled on my torso and poured down my face, stinging my eyes. THWACK I could feel the beginnings of a stitch coming in on my side, and every muscle in my body began to burn in the way only hard and tiring work could make them. THWACK The rhythmic shudder of the axe strike shook me once more, and I paused to take a look at my progress and quickly take a breather. Tired and just wanting some water, I wiped the sweat from my eyes and sized up the depth of my cut. It was decent enough. Good almost, but I still had quite a ways to go before I was done. Equestrian Applewood was tougher than most other types of wood, and this tree was one of the oldest in the orchard. Nevermind that I had been working on trees like this all day and my axe was probably now in dire need of sharpening after all the chopping I had done. Hell, I was lucky the axehead hadn’t come loose yet. Even luckier that she hadn’t come to check on me and notice I had stopped to catch my breath. Shaking the thought of the equine finding me not working, I returned my gaze to the trunk of the tree. It was about time to start on the back cut, and after that just a little more before I was finished for the day. Hopefully. I hefted the axe, its familiar balance of weight drawing me back in time, through the fog of memories that grew clearer as I thought of everything that lead to this. Then a feminine voice snapped me from my reminiscing. “Anon, just what in tarnation do y'all think you're doing slackin' off? The day ain't done yet!” The shout snapped my small smile away into a thin line, as I knew my moment of relaxation had come to an end. An orange coated mare with a wide cowboy hat stormed up to me, her muzzle fixed into a permanent sneer. She never smiled, at least not around me. Maybe she was a genuinely good pony around others, but not me. ”Consarnit, I've put up with enough of your dang restin'. Either keep up or I'm sendin' ya back to Twilight to be 'conditioned' again.” I let out a tired huff, but returned to felling the tree without any comments. I knew better at this point than to argue or even look up at her when she was annoyed. The mare, Applejack, nodded firmly at me and trotted off to continue her own work. I let my growing anger fuel my swings, working through the ache that I could feel all through my body. Imagining the tree being her neck… each bloody swing bringing me closer to freedom. Even after nearly a year of this sort of treatment, it was still galling to me how it could end this way. I am Anonymous, a slave in all but official paperwork. Officially, I am an indentured menial servant, one of the many others working to pay off the ‘reparations’ Equestria had demanded in return for their ‘gracious’ cessation of hostilities with Earth. Hah… 'Gracious', what a fucking joke. We could’ve kept fighting if our leaders didn’t pussy out like cowards and sign that damnable peace treaty. It was all their fault. They didn’t have the guts to win the war, and now half of Central Europe was now a massive demilitarized zone, most of the cities in it turned to dust from the war. The ruinous tear between worlds had only been responsible for a small bit of that terrible devastation. The rest had been collaboration between ponies, gryphons, and who knows what other godless sentient animals. Of course, on this side of things the portal had just been a mere curiousity that appeared in the Gryphon Lands, doing no damage besides some ecological changes. But then a group of scientists finally got the clearance to go through the time-space anomaly. Or 'The Danube Rift' as it had come to be known. One stumbled back through it a week later, covered in blood and other things best left unspoken, with his frantic and emotional report was what had finally stirred the world governments into action. And so I was sent through, an entire Division of Pathfinders from a dozen different nations, armed to the teeth and ordered to perform a reconnaissance in force. In other words, establish a bridgehead and pick a fight with the natives. It was supposed to be easy… A long groan from the wood of the tree pulled me from the reverie I found myself in. The old apple tree had started to lean a fair bit, but needed just a bit more encouragement. I hefted the axe and turned it about. Then, with a final mighty heave, I smashed the blunt side of the axehead into the boughs of the once mighty and now dead tree. It made a colossal noise as it fell to the ground, shaking the earth as it landed. I stood still for a moment, just breathing deeply and staring at the fallen giant before me. There was still work to do, cutting the limbs, debarking, maybe even cutting it into more manageable sizes to move away to its bin. But for now I took a seat, simply basking in the last rays of the sun that were now setting on the horizon. Even though there was still some work to be done with the tree, I decided I needed the rest more than those tasks needed to be finished. Besides, there was still house chores to be completed before I could even turn in for the night. Not like she payed me any attention. “Anon! Get yer butt inside before I give yer dinner to Winona!” The holler made me come alert once again and I began walking back to the farmhouse as ordered. After all, this was the supposed ‘Element of Honesty’, and she usually meant what she said. And I couldn't afford to go without food with all the work that had to be done on a daily basis. Because if I couldn't do my daily work... I shook my head, pausing in the door frame and drawing a deep breath. I knew I shouldn't think about it, lest I lose my appetite, which would mean no energy for the morning, which means... I gave myself a more violent shake and a small slap on the cheek, pushing away those terrible thoughts and joining the rest of the Apple family at the dinner table. With the four of us seated, I began to eat quietly and quickly without saying a word. Light conversation carried on between the three Apples, but they ignored me just as I had learned to ignore them. It may have seemed impolite, but it was the simplest way for them to get around the human sitting at their table, and for me to go unpunished. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut. But even then, it was only Applejack and her little sister talking. Their grandmother, grandmare, whatever the hell you call them, just stared at me. Just like every other night. Like she had a grudge against me personally. She eats a little then spends every dinner time, or any other meal really, staring at me silently. Of course, I simply ignored it and kept eating, but it had begun to wear on me. But still, I held my tongue and carried on with eating the apple themed dinner. My usual outbursts of aggression had faded after a couple of Twilight’s ‘corrections’ and manual labour was a fine outlet for any aggression or ill will I held towards the ponies at least. Besides, I didn't really want to hurt them personally , they had their orders just like I did. Well, all but her. Her treatment seemed to be personal. It didn’t take long for me to finish, and after I did I sat silently with my head down, waiting for the Apple family to finish as well. When they did, I stoop up and wasted no time clearing their dishes and bringing them into the kitchen and plopping them in the sink. I washed and dried the dishes as Applebloom came over to stand beside me. Staring at me with those wide and innocent eyes, she spoke softly. ”Ya know y'all can talk to us, right Anon? We know ya ain't a mute, so why don't ya just talk already?” Anon… saying that name so easily. Like we were old friends. Just like every night she spoke to me, and just as I had always done before, I remained silent and continued washing up, biting back the urge to demand her to say my full name instead of her childish nickname she gave me. Applebloom smacked her hooves on the hardwood table and her knitted her eyebrows with frustration. It was almost cute. ”Consarnit, everythin' would just be easy if you'd just talk to us! We're supposed to have ya over to make ya understand ponies but y'all spend everyday workin' without sayin' a word in passin'! Just say something! Please?” A second voice rang from the dining room. ”Applebloom!” Applejack's shout cowed her sister and she came over to pull the filly away. After sending Applebloom up to her room, Applejack came back and started putting the dishes away into the cupboards. I remained placid the entire time, intent on keeping my mouth shut as she continued to put the dishes away. Applejack heaved out a loud sigh beside me, apparently intent to break the silence. ”I'm real sorry about little 'Bloom, she just don't get it. An' I know y'all don't like it here an' frankly I don't want ya here any longer than I have to, but...Heck, I'm probably bein' a softie but the Solstice is in a couple days. I know it's a big time for ya human folk, so I'll give ya the day to do whatever. Gather with your kind an' whatnot.” I slowly stopped scrubbing the plate I was working on and blinked, my eyes widening the smaller bit in surprise, despite my desire to keep a totally neutral expression. A day off? She didn’t even give me a day off for my birthday. Or for Christmas. Or for anything really. She finished putting away the dishes and pointed towards a broom and dustpan in the corner of the kitchen. ”Once yer done, ya can sleep on the couch. It's supposed to be unseasonably cold and the barn would be awful chilly.” Without another word, she walked away, with the only thing to know she was still there being her faint trotting up the steps. I was left alone in the darkened house, finding myself completely stunned. And not to mention incredibly suspicious. Applejack, though not a violent slave master, had a mean habit of working me to the bone and expecting my perfect compliance and obedience like a good little doggy. She'd had no qualms of sending me off to Twilight when I’d acted out at first, for my 'reconditioning.’ The calender on the wall of the kitchen caught my eye, and I tried to connect the dots of why she would give me a day off from there. I continued to think to myself quietly as I swept the corners of the house as quickly as I could. Just what would I even do with my first taste of real freedom in over a year? And would the other slaves be getting a day off too for this small holiday, or was Applejack being especially generous with this offer? Author's Note Kept you waiting didn’t I? I’m back with another story. Sorry it took so long, but I refuse to end 2023 without publishing at least something new. 2. A Short WalkThe next two days almost seem to last a lifetime for me. Every ache seemed to carry through the days, every night spent waking up a dozen times or more. I couldn't wash away my thoughts with hard work, no matter how I had tried to. Memories of the war now passed, dozens of victories, a steady string of defeats, brothers in arms dead and dying, blood drying on my hands, face, legs. My old scars ached in sympathy with my body and thoughts, adding another level of discomfort to my already mounting unease. A constant, tinny ringing echoed in my ears and half the time I hadn't responded to Applejack hadn't been out of willful ignorance. I had been considering what I would do when I actually got to meet up with the few humans I knew were around this town still. After all, I only actually knew two of them, the rest were people I didn't know and wouldn't get to know. There wasn’t enough time in the day to socialize much. And what did Applejack even mean about the Solstice being 'important' to humans? It wasn't until I’d risen that morning that an explanation had dawned on me with the morning sun. Tor, it had to be his doing. He had a way with words and with his hands, even if his English was terrible. Torlund was smart, he could’ve weaseled us a little something. Before I left for town, Applejack had warned me to be back before the dawn tomorrow and to expect a boatload of work to make up for the day. I felt a dull pulse of pain through my aching shoulders, but had nodded when she finished. No use talking back. And with that I was free for the day. Well, free as I could be stranded in an alien land and surrounded by creatures I’d once fought against. It was a fair walk into town, and the sun had fully risen once I finally wandered among the thatched roofs of Ponyville. I spent some time simply watching the bustle of the town, ponies going about their business, a few with humans in tow behind their masters. My lips twitched at the sight, it still rubbed me the wrong way to see a human so… docile. Like a good little dog. But I didn’t brood for long before a familiar giant made his way over to me. Torlund, the giant man in question, wore a broad smile on his thickly bearded face and holds his arms open wide to me. ”Anonymous, my friend, how long has it been?” A rhetorical question of course, we both knew how long it had been. A year, it's been a year since I’d actually seen him in the flesh. Longer since we’d last talked. The two of us shared a tight embrace and he let out a thunderous laugh, drawing a few wandering eyes. He slapped my shoulder and stepped back, his grin not faltering the slightest bit. “What's the matter, young man? Catbird got your tongue?” I smiled at the joke, but shook my head slowly before rolling up my right sleeve of my ragged hemp shirt and turning the ventral of my arm to face him. Or more importantly, the jagged, black runes written on it. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, his smile shrinking into a tight line across his face as he saw the runes. ”So you were serious about that, eh? No matter, you'll still be handy. Come on then, boy, we still have preparations to make!” He wrapped his thick and muscled arm around my shoulders and practically dragged me along with him, off to who knows where. Tor had always been a strange fellow, even in the relatively short time I knew him. A Norwegian Jaeger before, he had been in team sent along to establish the bridgehead in the Gryphon Empire. He'd been the medic with the Norwegian contribution, and even they thought he was strange. A devoted pagan, almost neurotically so. His hands were adorned with twisting, eternal knots and runes that you hadn't been able to read. Always chanting in a strange tongue, to his weapon, his medical supplies, to anyone who would stick around after a conversation played out. I hadn't got along with him until... Tor's overly loud voice broke my train of thought before it could carry on towards the fog of memory. ”So is that orange one still working you like a dog? You're so tense my friend, ought to come by the spa sometime!” That's right, Tor had somehow been selected for work at the local spa. Apparently he had been a massage therapist before joining the military. What a joke life was sometimes. One day you were killing ponies and all manner of other animals in the snowy mountains, and the next you were working for them in their own little cities. ”Ah, but I suppose she wouldn't like you to be away from the farm too often. Just what did you have to do to get today anyhow?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me, still smiling broadly. I only laughed and shrugged my shoulders, taking it in stride. In all honesty, I’m still not truly sure why she had gave me a day off, even with the promise of catch-up work. I perked up when I finally noticed that we were leaving the town behind for the outskirts of the forest, and I gave Tor a questioning look. He only shook his head without answering, his face growing more serious as he stared at the rough path ahead. The Everfree, he's taking me into the goddamn witch wood itself. In a low, severe voice, he speaks up while we walk ”You know, we still must keep our traditions alive here, Anonymous. Even as I did back home, so to must I here. But it's no longer my own soul I must watch, but all of you who stand as I do. It took a great deal of bargaining, badgering, begging to get this one day.” *He paused a moment while we walked, stopping me with him as he spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.* “These ponies, they don't think as we do, we're barbarians with shiny toys to them. You cannot imagine the lengths to which I went to ensure we would have at least a single day for us and ours.” Something in the tone of his voice sends goosebumps rising on my arms. Sure, the ponies didn't treat us the best, but it was easy to understand why. They probably would have been treated much the same by us if they had not had living goddesses and literal magic on their side. But clearly, Tor wasn't as accepting of the lot he'd been dealt. Again, I could understand his aversion to essentially being a slave. I shared in that sentiment of anger. But he was a good man, more than evidenced by his efforts with this... whatever it was. I had a feeling, a little flickering flame of excitement in my gut, about what it could be. There were only so many things that happened on a Solstice, after all. And only one really made sense to me, Tor, and the others in our expeditionary unit that had wound up as indentured servants in the general Ponyville area. Blót 3. PreparationsAs the two of us continue to walk into the Everfree, Tor talks all the while. The trees thicken as he talks about his job as a masseuse, meeting other humans around town, the general attitude of the ponies, and of course his new found devotion to his faith. Sure, for the entire length of the war he had proselytized his fellow soldiers, successfully in my and a few others case not so successful in rest. But this was something new. This was an almost fanatical level of faith. Not to mention the near single-minded focus on 'keeping the human within alive' as he had put it. It sounded dangerously close to sedition. Even I had walked the thin line between resistance and outright rebellion, but I had been forcibly and painfully taught what happens when that line is crossed. Still, I listened and humored him, as there was no need to let him in on my reservations to his ideas. After the better part of an hour of wandering along a rough trail, Tor pushed aside a knot of hanging vines and gestured to the clearing beyond, then glanced to me with a wide grin. ”My friend, welcome to the Hof.” A chill ran up my spine as I stepped into the clear grove. Him calling it a 'temple' sat poorly in my stomach. It was beautiful to be sure, sun shining from on high, the bright green grasses and colorful flowers, even the massive pile of timber sitting at the center of it all. I paused. Timber in the middle? What? My eyes lingered at the middle of the grove, staring at the pile of logs that easily towered taller than me and Tor. He noticed my gaze, then gave me a cheeky grin. ”Yes, nary do I sleep at all. All night, chopping wood for this little gathering.” I shot him a sharp look, and he out a bellowing laugh, slapping me on the shoulder. ”No, of course not. You see, I was simply wandering the woods on a day I had been given free, just me and Samuel. And we found this place! Of course, it was occupied by a beast, like everywhere in this witch forest. You should have seen in, Anon, a wolf made of wood, big as a damn bear it was!” I stared at him in silence, not believing a word he had said, but he held a hand over his heart ”I swear, no way would I have been able to do this all myself!” I stared at him a moment longer, then turned back to the towering pile of timber. Eventually, I decide to believe him and just drop the topic, after all I had definitely seen stranger things far since the damn rift opened up. A bear-sized wood-wolf didn't seem too out there when there were two ponies that lifted the sun and moon. As Tor wandered about the clearing, I took a seat and leaned against the trunk of an ancient pine in thought. Where did it all go wrong? Was it when I had volunteered for the so-called 'reconnaissance' mission that had first led us to this world? Perhaps earlier, when I had tried and succeeded in Pathfinder school. Mom always did hound me to become a doctor instead. How long had it been since I saw here last anyways? Shaking the thought aside, my mind went back to the Pathfinder school. That was one of my fondest memories, standing on parade after a week with near zero sleep in the field, having the torch badge pinned onto my chest As happy as it was, things had slid from there, first Syria, then Europe, and finally here. Hell, I shouldn't have joined the army in the first place, maybe that was the mistake at the center of it all. Sure, maybe I’d be sitting on a farm in the middle of the middle of nowhere, or maybe have actually listened to my mothers ideas of college and have lived in the cities for the rest of my life, but at least then I wouldn't be a slave to technicolor ponies. Well, at least I wasn’t a gryphon slave. I shuddered a bit at the thought of the poor guys sent to the catbird empire. No real news of course, just rumors. And lots of them. Forced labour, constant beatings, starvation, public execution for the disobedient… Sure, the UN had complained about the treatment of their 'servile repayers', but the gryphons hadn't listened and the ponies had only sent a notice of concern to the gryphons to silence critics. So there was that going for me. Maybe my life wasn't too terrible after all, I had ended up working on a farm despite my choices. And at least I was fed. With a loud sigh, Tor sat beside me against the same pine tree. ”Fate works in strange ways, eh friend?” I gave him an odd look as he continued speaking, gesturing grandly around the open grove. ”Look at this place, it's untouched by the hands of man. The vaettir in these woods have not seen the likes of us, but respond all the same.” He turned his head toward me and grinned at my questioning gaze. ”The ponies ignore them all the same, worship is a concept that is all new to them. And yet, we are not free men to worship as we please.” He rubbed the bark of the tree we shared, and it groaned as the wind blew through its boughs. Sometimes though, I wondered if it truly was just the wind that made the trees moan. This land was rife with magic after all. The two of us remained silent for a long while, just letting the sounds of nature and the distant howling of the wood-wolfs. After a time, Tor broke the silence once more, his tone gentle. ”Your silence vow doesn't stop you from using instruments, yes?” I looked at him and nodded, and he visibly relaxed before standing up. ”Good, come then.” With too many unvoiced questions, I rose and followed after him. He lead the two of us to a great oak with a hollow in its trunk, rubbing the bark when he reached it. Without anymore delays, he reached in and took out a number of musical instruments, some familiar, others strange. A few drums, a weird mushroom shaped bit of metal, an odd lyre, and... a tagelharpa? When and where did he find something like that around here? Without warning, he tossed the harpa at me and I plucked it from the air with ease. He smiled and continues to lay out the various instruments as he spoke. ”You play, don't you? I remember you saying that before this mess.” I did, but it did nothing to dull my surprise at him remembering that, nevermind actually getting one of these in Equestria. It wasn't specifically forbidden to have stuff like this as we were allowed personal property, but he would’ve had to either smuggle it in or make it himself. I looked up at him again, and he seemed occupied in his own world with the instruments. All this effort, God only knew how much time and risk spent getting everything for it. It's a bit touching, but more than a bit disturbing as well. Still, I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I set the tagelharpa up on my knee, rested my fingers on the strings, picked up the bow, and gently dragged it across the strings. I frowned at the sharp sound it made. It needed tuning. I let out a quiet and almost silent sigh and set about making the instrument sound at least marginally presentable A few minutes of frustrating tuning later, and Tor came over to watched me as I worked. In an answer to the look I shot him, he shrugged. ”I can do nothing but bang drums, it is interesting to see someone who can actually make music work.” Weird, but Tor had always been strange. Even among the rest of the squad and their antics. Satisfied with how the strings sounded, I played the bow across them once more. It all sounded tuned well enough, and I move into playing a little tune that I enjoyed. Tor tapped his foot along with the upbeat sound, his grin growing as I played. It was a small and infectious thing, and I found myself smiling along with him as I ran my bow over the strings. I began move keenly from one song to the next, playing more energetically as I went along. The day drags along, and in ones and twos, more people show up and watch you play I hardly took notice, but eventually Tor clapped his hands once, prompting me to stop mid song. I raised an eyebrow at the disruption, before finally noticing the small crowd that's gathered around the grove. It may have only been fifteen men or so, but that was more than half of the entire human population in Ponyville. I hadn't been around this many in well over a year. Not since being brought here, in fact Tor greeted them all like old friends, hugging some, slapping backs, and shaking hands with them. I stood and dusted myself off, looking around the small gathering that formed to see if I knew any. Looking around, I spot one. Samuel is among them, of course, and he makes a beeline to me, offering his hand with a toothy grin. ”Anon! It's been way too damn long. That apple horse keeps you bloody busy tending to her orchards, eh?” A small blush crept on my cheeks and I shook my head at the implication. He simply laughed and punched my shoulder before leaning against the tree trunk. Samuel had been a member of the SAS that had come along with the expeditionary force, the oldest member by far. Probably in his 40’s if I had to wager. Quick with a dirty joke, and just as quick with a rifle, he had been the real heart of everything in that troop. And he too had fallen in with Tor’s practices after that first battle. But he hadn't changed all that much for it He glances at the rune in my bare forearm and clicked his tongue. ”Ah, so you were serious about that thing... explains the lack of a comeback, no matter though. You play that instrument well, lad. Good thing too, we'll need it tonight.” He looked pointedly back at Tor, who had finished socializing and clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention, silencing the grove of all noise. Even the distant wildlife seemed to shut up, the incessant whining of bugs and chirps of birds going eerily quiet. From the ground, he plucked a lit torch someone had brought in. The grove had begun to darken as twilight comes on, and the fire casts an eerie light on his bearded face, along with the faces of the rest of us dirty and gaunt men. “Brothers! Listen to me, even though we waste under the hooves of our hosts, the fire in our hearts does not die. Tonight has been a long time coming, but at last we can shed the yoke of slavery and be free men again. And just what is it we have gathered together for?” As he tossed the torch to the base of the stacks of dried timber, setting a bonfire ablaze, the others shout with one voice as I follow silently in my heart. “BLÓT!” Author's Note I’m back. I think. I’ll try and be more active here if I can help it. Remember, any question you guys have, just ask and I’ll try and answer them. 4. BlótThe silence after the shout does not last for much more than a few beats of my heart. Tor began to chant in a deep, gravely tone, his rhythmic intonations nearly hypnotizing and having the feeling of a wild spell. No, it doesn't have the feeling of a spell, it IS a spell. Though I wasn’t sure how, I could feel magic whipping around us in the air of the grove. And judging from how the others scrambled to grab drums and the rest of the eclectic mix of instruments in a desperate frenzy, they must have felt it too. The drums begin to pound in time with Tor's chant, and I couldn’t help but slap a hand on the soundboard of my new tagelharpa along with them. Even my heart began to pound along to the beating of the drums. The others begin to sing an echoing and almost animalistic chorus in response to Tor's vocalizations. I very nearly broke my vow of silence to join in, but I could feel the runes on my wrist burning even as the words barely began to build in my throat. Biting back a hiss of pain, I remained silent, but the music still bewitched me in a way I couldn't begin to tell one who had not felt it. The grove itself seemed to join in, the trees swaying along with the song, the fire of the timbers cracking and popping in time with the drum beats. The roar of the flames seemed itself to add another layer to the music. Though I couldn't explain it, I knew exactly when to begin drawing my bow across the strings of the harpa, and exactly what notes to play. Beginning to drag my bow along the string in a daze, it began to thicken and cloud my mind, the music fading to a muddy background of ethereal noise. Dark fog seemed to slither through the grass of the clearing, though none of the crowd reacted to its presence, as if it were an old friend. Even I merely staredinto the gathering wisp, the only response seeming to be the increased frantic pace of the music. Not to ven the flames could counteract the darkness, the massive fire seemingly subdued by the thick haze. Breathling deeply, I let the haze consume all. I opened my eyes fully and found myself standing behind James and Harry, in perfect position to cover them as they advanced on the bluff they had seen movement behind. My heart began to thud in my ears as they waved for me to push forward when they halted their advance. Without a noise, I rushed up the bluff when I heard a branch snap from over it. Popping up into view, I aimed my rifle square in the face of the mountain goat that had wandered into our patrol. Shaking my head and breathing a long sigh of relief, I glanced back at James and motioned an all clear. From the sparse trees and boulders lining the mountainside, the rest of the patrol emerged from their cover. Me, James, and Harry were just one small group among many in what was being called the Extraterrestrial Expeditionary Force. Given how quickly the force had been thrown together, it was hardly surprising that we had formed into cliques or nationality and beliefs. Over there by the rocks was the German Jaeger force, resting against the trees were a group of Spetsnaz from the Senezh group, and bringing up the rear were a pair of SAS members with Pathfinder training. There were more men that were establishing a temporary base, but even this small patrol between the various operators had nearly a hundred years of training combined. The three of us from the Canadian contingent weren't nearly the most experienced, but the snowy terrain was simply what we were best trained for. So it fell to the three Canadian Pathfinders to take point. I walked over to James and gave him a rough smack on the shoulder. “All that fuss over a mountain goat, really man? I nearly blew that damn thing apart because of you.” He laughed and slugged my plate carrier in return. ”Come on, big man, you could use the exercise. Besides, you didn’t shoot it, it’s not a big deal.” Harry came over and crossed his arms, letting his rifle hand across his shoulder. ”Save the horseplay for home, boys. We've still got to finish up this patrol before you two can tussle in the bedsheets.” We shared a laugh and took point once again, the others falling in behind us in a staggered line. The route we were on carried down the mountainside and into the heavily forested valley below. Regular UAV flights had, for whatever reason, been unable to see beneath the thick canopy, both optical and infrared photos revealed nothing. So it was our first destination. It took us half the day to finally reach the valley floor, and to our great surprise, there's nothing special about it. Nothing causing some kind of interference, no special properties in the trees, just a small river and the sounds of animals. On the way back from the short mission, the usual griping about the relatively pointless mission crops up, but it's easy to hear that it's mere venting. By the time we reached the camp, the sun had already fallen behind the cliffs. The forest we had taken camp in was backlit by the eerie blue glow of the portal back home, even though it was miles away. It certainly made sleeping difficult, and not to mention it fucked with our radios for some reason, but keeping watch was a bit easier with the extra light. The camp has changed radically from when our small party had departed that morning. Gone were the single man tents strung haphazardly between trees, and in their place stood a number of larger, 6 man tents. Around the circumference of the camp, a shallow trench had been dug and a berm risen on the inside of it. Piles of sandbags marked watch positions, the closest thing to proper cover besides the thick trees themselves. A number of those trees had been felled and turned into firewood or obstacles at the single entrance to the camp proper. A pair of Danes pulled the barriers aside to let our troop pass through. The rest of the patrol split off from me, leaving James and Harry following to the command post at the center of it all. Pushing aside the flap and knocking on a desk set off to the side to announce our arrival, I cleared my throat. “Sir, patrol's back. Reporting as ordered.” The two men standing around a small table with various maps spread across it raise their eyes to meet mine, and one breaks into a smile ”Ah, the canucks are back with their team, excellent. So do tell, what did you find in this mysterious valley that got command so riled up?” I merely shrugged at the captain, holding out my open palms helplessly. “Found a lot of trees and a little river. A couple nice picnic spots too. Makes for a pretty good view. Otherwise, there wasn't really too much down there.” The captain sighed and shook his head at the news. I cleared my throat again before continuing. “Well there is some local wildlife, mountain goats for the most part. No settlements spotted though, so we should be safe from whatever got the scientists.” That captain pinched the bridge of his nose, and his adjudant speaks up in his place. ”Gents, we're here to find the source of those attacks. The fact that we haven't means we'll need to move base again. As it is, we're uncomfortably far away from any chance of extracting to a safe zone, so going deeper isn't an outcome anybody wants.” I shrugged again, unsure of what exactly to say in response. Fortunately, Harry stepped up to speak instead. ”We understand, warrant officer Klein. The problem is, whatever attacked them is long gone. Even the guys who have tracker skills haven't found anything on their route but paw prints. If we push further along the path that they travelled--” Harry cut his spiel off as somebody slammed into him from behind, knocking the air out of him. A breathless SAS trooper pushed his way into the tent, shoving past the three of us Canadians and slapping down a large sheet of paper on the table, snapping off a quick salute. ”Sir! New images from a drone overflight!” The trooper points at a section on the paper, and I peered over his shoulder as the captain's eyes widened. I didn’t have a great view as I was looking at it from the side, but what I could see chilled my spine even as the captain began to start shouting orders. “Full alert, now! Get everyone on the line, loaded up. I want the mortar team ready to fire the second I tell them. Move!” Training takes over and, despite how tired I had felt from the long patrol, I found myself with new boundless energy. I ran from the tent and threw yourself down, against the berm, looking out into the faintly illuminated forest beyond the perimeter. Another body hits the little hill beside me, and I heard him curse in a language I couldn’t recognize. A few minutes with nothing but the sounds of the forest pass, then the man next to me spoke quietly in a gruff voice. ”A false alarm, eh? Ah, too bad, I almost looked forward to fighting.” I glanced over and see a veritable mountain of a man, a dark, thick beard covering his face, and a Norwegian flag on his arm. He looked me over, then gave me a toothy grin. “Hey, you're one of those Canadians right? Heard you guys did some bad things over in Somalia. Is it true, what the reports said?” I blinked, it taking a moment to figure out what the hell he's talking about. Finally recalling it, I nodded. Maybe this guy wanted to give me a hard time over something I didn’t do. He stuck out a hand, keeping the smile on his face as I slowly took it to shake. “Torlund Alfsen, Norwegian FSK.” A loud crackle of branches pulled me away from any kind of reply, and I returned to staring into the trees, rifle shouldered. But there was nothing out there, save for the sound of a flock of birds fleeing the coming battle. Damn, there must be a lot of birds out there to be making that kind of racket. Weird too, considering I hadn’t heard a peep out of them before now. An idle thought, really just recalling a single sentence from the briefing on what the scientists had been attacked by, makes my eyes wander upwards. Oh. Oh no. I felt my heart stop for a solid second after I saw it. There, beyond the leaves, a mass of black shapes and bodies blotted out the night sky. I poked Torlund and make a sluggish and shaky gesture to shush any reaction, then pointed up. When he notices what I had seen, his eyes become wide as dinner plates, glistening in the sickly blue light of the distant portal. He rolls on his back as I have, aiming his rifle up but is disciplined enough not to fire. They haven't seen us yet, I had thought, and had desperately hoped and prayed for. That many, even with just sticks and stones, might be able to crush every last one of our small expedition under the weight of their bodies alone. I could hear whispers and the faint rustling of cloth as others around the perimeter do as me and Torlund had done. The relative stillness of the moment is broken in an instant as a single shot from a rifle rings out through the clearing. And then hell is unleashed upon us. The winged creatures descend in a massive black cloud of fury and violence. All around, the staccato cracks of rapid fire shots ring in the clearing, piercing through the relentless beating of wings. Harsh cries, screams, shouts abound in the chaos, and I found myself unloading magazine after magazine into the black mass, tearing flesh from body as shots hit. But no end is in sight. Soon it comes to my sidearm, something I had never fired in anger before. Before long, it too has fired its last shot. I shielded my body with my hands as best I could, throwing my gaze about for something, anything I could fight with. It feels like an eternity, but merely seconds later I had found just what I needed. A woodcutting axe, laid up near a section of the berm reinforced with logs. I began to swing my rifle wildly to clear the air around me for just a moment and dove to the berm, grasping the wooden pommel of the axe. With a wild shout of savagery, I began to lay the blade about the crowded shapes around me. They fall before me in droves, my arms burning with intense pain from the exertion. Here and there, I caught glimpses of my brothers in arms, fighting with whatever came to hand. There, one with a bayonet, or another with a shovel, a man swinging a rock, a hectic frenzy. No more shots rang out, there were only war cries, pained screams, the dull whack of weapons on flesh, and the crack of bone and splitting wood. As the battle became more pitched, the thudding of my heart seemed almost as a crazed war drum. In my mind, I could hear a hazy string of words layering over one another in a hypnotic swell of incredible sound. At a whisper in my ear, I whirled about just in time to catch one of the creatures flying at me. A simple thing to dispatch with a violent swing of the cutting axe. I felt a warm spray on my face as my vision had gone red and blurry from, and the sweat pouring from my brow mixed in. My lungs burnt and my body ached, but still I had fought on with my voice growing more hoarse with every savage roar. How quick man was to become a monster. The pitched battle soon came to resemble savage butchery more than fighting. These winged monsters, though many in number, fell as easily to stick and blade as they did to bullets. And so butcher I did, losing myself to the thwack of the axe, the spray of blood, and the song of death. But finally, mercifully, it ends. Fearful trembling, sweaty, and totally exhausted in a pile of corpses. Too tired to even feel disgusted as I fell to my knees as, I began to breathe deep and greedy breaths to smooth my burning lungs. The war drum of my heart continued to pound on, even with the fighting long over. And so I knelt there, in the gore drenched grass, for an eternity. The blood began to congeal on my face and I began to become aware of throbbing and savage cuts across my body, the pain striking me like a train as tears began to creep out of my eyes. A cool wind blows through the battlefield, stinging my wounds and sending a chill up my spine, making my trembling even more pronounced. I still couldn't find the energy to stand, settling instead for looking around the immediate area. Immediately, I wished I hadn't Among the dark bodies of whatever it was that had attacked the expedition, it's all to easy to pick out the shapes of men in lighter colored fatigues. And there are far too many of them. Numbering over half of our initial count. Around us even more of the birdlike creatures, either dead or dying. I could feel the tears in my eyes flow more quickly when I spotted them. Two men, lying side by side in the same pattern of camouflage I wore, their berets on the floor by their sides. I hadn’t even need to see the red leafed flags to know it was James and Harry. A flurry of emotions flashed over me quickly. Fury that they had been killed, regret that I hadn't been alongside them fighting, sorrow at their passing. But above it all, a burning, poisonous hatred of whatever had done this. As I knelt, covered in dried blood, tears making tracks on my face, I made a vow. There would be no quarter given to whatever it was that had killed them. Suddenly, a hand lays itself on my forehead and pushes my gaze up. Blinking a few time, I found myself looking at Torlund, his own face covered in gore, his beard matted and eyes wild with hate. His voice comes in a dire whisper, holding reverence and kindness in equal measure ”It's time, Anonymous.” I blinked my eyes once more, confused by his cryptic words. The glow of firelight behind him, there hadn't been a fire lit at the camp. His face is clean, though covered in a sheen of sweat that makes the light dance about his forehead. And then I snapped back to the current moment, to the grove, the ritual, Blót. Yes, that was where I was. My fingers throbbed, and a look shows me a series of weeping welts. Yes, that was right, I had been playing the tagelharpa along with Tor's song, his spell. It was just a memory, that's it He helped me to my feet and I followed him to the slowly dying bonfire. Everyone else is standing in a circle around it, but they make room for me and Tor to join them. Tor joins them in the chant they've carried on while he had fetched me from my recollection. I simply waited, unable to join in the chant despite my heart longing for it. After a while, when the fire is dimming to embers, the chanting ceases and Tor begins to speak. “Brothers, sisters, as the fire wanes, so too does our time together draw close to its end. Before we return to our servitude, we must bring this blót to a closing that will appease the gods. We have no livestock nor harvest to offer them, so instead we must each offer part of ourselves in tribute.” He draws a long, black iron knife and lays the edge of the blade on his wrist joint ”As Odin sacrificed for his knowledge of the world and as he did for his learning of the runes, so must we sacrifice for our own gain. We sacrifice for health, for fertility, for freedom.” With that, he draws the knife easily over the skin. He holds his wrist out, over the embers of the bonfire, and holds it there as he passes the knife to the next in the circle. The man who takes it from him mirrors his movements before passing it along. As does the man beside him, and the man beside him, and so it carries around the fire until I’m the one to hold it in my hand. Laying the wet edge of the blade on my wrist and licking my lips, I felt sweat prickling my scalp. Blood always made me queasy. A glance to my right tells you that Tor is watching me, and a look around reveals that everyone has their gazes locked on me intently as well. I gritted my teeth and hurriedly drew the knife over my wrist, wincing at the sudden pain. As Tor and the others have done, I held my wrist over the dying remains of the fire. The moment the first drops of my blood touch the smoldering charcoal, a rush of blazing flame leaps from the center and dazzles the circle. Tor immediately begins singing in at a frenetic pace and the others join in. Another spell, I could feel the air around humming with magic. The fire itself seems to dance with the music, and my heart becomes a drumbeat in time with the magical sound. My wrist began to itch fiercely, and it takes an immense amount of concentration to not dig my nails into it and make it stop. After a long while, the chant ceases all at once. The grove is plunged into darkness once again, though in the dim moonlight you see all that is left of the fire is merely scorched grass. Everything else has vanished, all the logs and branches that had once stood tall seemingly vaporized. Real magic, I shivered at the thought of it. As the others leave the circle and sit down in ones and twos, I quickly realize the throbbing from my wrist has all but vanished. Turning it towards myself, I brushed against it gingerly, expecting a flare of pain. But there's nothing there. I could feel nothing but a slight indentation of a scar, not even a scab over it. Flexing my wrist back and forth, letting the moonlight catch in the new found scar, there was no sign, except for a thin line, that I had ever spilled my own blood in sacrifice. A look around tells me only a few others are doing the same, most seeming to have taken the strange phenomena in stride. Tor has already disappeared from the clearing, and the instruments with him. I looked and stared up at the moon, wondering at everything that had occurred that night. The magic in the air, the dark fog that had brought me back to the first battle, the cutting and subsequent healing of your wrist. I began to wonder if it was wise to come here. Slowly, I shook the thoughts from your mind and began to stand, giving a silent nod in departure, and began to follow the winding game trail back from the Everfree to Ponyville. I tried to pry my thoughts from the frenzy of it all. To focus my thoughts on the day to come, on what chores I would need to do on the farm, on catching at least a few hours of sleep. But my memories kept drawing me back, pressing against my mind, demanding my attention. I don't indulge them, and after a while I found myself back at Sweet Apple Acres. Silently sighing, I pushed open the door to my small shed I called home. Thoughts began to whip around in my mind. Just how did Tor get that magic? Had this land changed him? With a quick shake of my head, I cleared my mind. No, no introspection tonight, it had been a strange enough day as it was. Instead, I lied down on the ripped up couch I had for a bed and closed my eyes. A long day was still coming tomorrow. Author's Note Initially I had planned for this story to be set during the 70’s but I’ve decided to retroactively change this to the 90’s, just after the fall of the USSR. Why? Because I felt like it, that’s why. 5. CalmThe next several months passed in a blur I'd be hard pressed to describe much of it, it all seemed lost in a slew of hard work and torturous memories. The harvest came and went, working me to the bone, but it was bountiful, even by Equestrian standards, and Applejack had been becoming more lenient with me. Nothing grand such as petitioning the princess on my behalf, but little things like an extra helping at dinner, or not sending me for reconditioning if when I was acting out a bit more than usual. Of course, I didn't abuse her sudden goodwill either, in fact I did my best to work harder to keep it going. I couldn't arouse any suspicion after all. Though I still refused to speak, I still manned the selling booth with Applejack when the season came to sell her goods. For the most part, I simply worked on delivering orders or carrying bushels of fruit home for ponies. But in the down time, a few of my friends would come and talk. Just meaningless small talk of course, no one mentioned that strange night nor anything that had happened since. And here I was at the last market day before the snow fell, waiting for the last orders of apple preserves to be picked up. It had been slow today, which had left me cold despite the jacket that I had been issued. It wasn't thick enough, but it was what I had on hand so I simply heaped layers on under it. Not like they'd let us wear our old uniforms. They took them from us and burnt them, claiming letting us have it would 'embolden defiance.' The Equestrians sure had a way of trying to break one's spirit. ”Well, I'm gonna go see Twilight about some of them preservin' spells she was going on about. Y'all good to man the booth by yourself?” I give her a thumbs up and she smiles. Yes, she certainly had been far more trusting as of late. Trusting enough to leave me alone when I was working. More than enough time to pocket some stuff. Just a few moments after she trots off, Samuel approaches the booth with a large grin on his face. ”Hey, Anonymous! How are you doing today?” I shrugged and gestured at him as he leans on the counter ”I'm alright, thank you for asking. I'm here to pick up an order for Roseluck." He quickly checks a small note, then glances back up at me. "Ten cases of preserves. Should've gotten here earlier today." Ah yes, he belonged to that botanist. What strange skills so many of us soldiers had taken on after the fighting. Well, besides me of course. I was the only one who was 'employed' on a farm in Equestria. We were the lucky ones. Those sent to Griffonia... Shaking my thoughts aside, I nod to Samuel and begin to grab his shipment, but something about the way he is feels...off. As I finished gathering the cases of apple preserves I look a bit closer at his smiling face. Yes, something was indeed wrong with the way he spoke, it was far too proper and stiff. His eyes told the entire story. The pupils had a slightly ragged look to them, and his gaze was distant and empty. Reconditioning. He'd been over at Twilight's. Samuel had never been a troublemaker, so why had he been sent off? These troubling thoughts remained as I laid the cases out and count out his payment. It was all there, of course, and Samuel takes the cases and says his goodbyes before leaving the market stall, walking with his awkward gait. Twilight must've really scrambled his mind. That, or Samuel was more susceptible to Equestrian magic. Even when Applejack returned, I continued to worry about what it meant that he had gone and been reconditioned. He wasn't one to break under pressure, so I don't think he'd have revealed anything incriminating about what happened in the forest. However, I had felt the effects of whatever magic that Twilight used. Perhaps even he might've broken. I coukd feel mtly nerves fray as the day goes on, but Applejack doesn't say a word as we finally begin to close up the stand. The two of us take up opposite ends of the cart and begin the trip back to Sweet Apple Acres. When we arrive, Applejack leaves me to stow the cart in the barn, presumably to go help Applebloom with dinner. The dull labor leaves me some time to think. How would I avoid questions about what Twilight had surely told her? More importantly, how would I avoid going back to be reconditioned? A shiver runs up my spine, but it has nothing to do with the steadily dropping temperature. Dying would be preferable to going through that again. I knew what Samuel, the real Samuel, was going through. Trapped inside hisbown mind, screaming answers and questions that would never reach his lips. Compared to that, even total nothingness was a mercy. I envied the dead during those moments. To embrace the final slumber instead of being a prisoner of my own body. I shake the morose thoughts from my mind as I climb the cellar steps, having stored the last preserves from the cart. It was about time to eat, and I provably wouldn't be so dour on a full stomach. Pushing open the door of the main house, I find Applejack seated at the dinner table, alone. Applebloom and Granny Smith were nowhere to be seen, nor was there even a scrap of food on the table. They weren't here? As I mutely approach, Applejack simply gestures for me to take a seat beside her. Beside her, not across as it so usually was had brought you here. I could feel sweat prickling my back, nerves coming to the fore once again. She knew. She had to have known. I take my seat beside her and she stays quiet for a while, the only sounds are the creaking of the old house as the cold wind whips it from outside. Finally, she speaks up in a grave tone. ”Granny and Applebloom are visitin' our family in Appleloosa, they ain't been out there for a while.” I didn't know they had extended family, or that there was even a place called Appleloosa. What a strange world ”Now then, Twi was talkin' to your friend Samuel there. You remember that big Solstice festival I let you go to?” I nod, becoming more uncomfortable with where this was going. ”Well, Samuel mentioned somethin' about magic in the air. What's more, Twi noticed them beasts in the Everfree were getting agitated around the same time.” My teeth bit my tongue tightly, and my body tensed up. This was it. Applejack must've notice because she holds out her hooves to try and placate me. ”Look, I ain't sendin' y'all off for reconditioning. You ain't done anythin' that bad in ages, and if I'm real honest I didn't like how it turned you out the first time. It just weren't...you.” She trails off, a slight blush dusting her orange cheeks. But just as quick as it appears, she shakes her head and it's gone. ”So I want to hear it right from you. Were y'all using magic at whatever party you had?” She stays silent and I stay still. The impasse lasts for a minute, then two, but she holds out longer than I can. Slowly, my shoulders slump and I nod meekly. Applejack lets out a quiet sigh and seems to relax a bit at my compliance. I hated it, this feeling of helplessness. "Thank ya, Anon. Now listen, I know y'all don't have magic where you come from but it ain't all the same. Unicorns use a very specific kind, it's safe and stable. But that kind in the Everfree? It's wild, dangerous stuff that makes good folks into crazy beasts.” She reaches over and places a hoof onto my hand. ”You didn't know you were doing anythin' dangerous, so like I said you don't need to worry about any reconditioning. Just spread the word around, alright? None of us wanna make things around here any harder on y'all, but we expect the same.” I nod in agreement. I'm not really sure how I could spread the word, but I could understand the sentiment of live and let live. Besides, that ritual had left me with a poor taste in my mouth and a pit in my stomach. Nothing about it had sat well with me at all. The memories had been far too real to brush them off, and I had felt as though the blood had truly been coating my face again. It was a grisly reminder of the hell that had brought us here. ”Alrighty, let's hit the hay then. Still got some work to do before the snow hits, I've got to head into town tomorrow, you'll be stayin' behind and doin' some maintenance in the tool shed. I'll show ya before I go.” Again, I nod, and without another word Applejack heads upstairs. It's a while before I turn in on the couch that had become my new bed. The nerves that had plagued me before the conversation have gone, but in their place came different worries. Just what had this magic done to me? Had Tor known about all this before before the ritual, had he even cared, or did the though of revenge cloud his mind? What about everyone else, did they have experiences like I did? Relive the war? I doubt that answers for that will ever come, and there's a part of me that hopes they never do. At long last, sleep claims me in blessed silence. Author's Note Sorry for taking so long to actually write this part. TLDR of it is that I finished my training for work and then two days after, they told me my jobsite as an apprentice would be taking me halfway across my state. So yeah, not exactly conditions for a guy to get the creative stuff flowing. But I'm back. I think? I hope.
1. SpiteTHWACK The late afternoons scorching sun beat down on the glistening muscles of my back. THWACK Sweat, born from a long day of toil, sparkled on my torso and poured down my face, stinging my eyes. THWACK I could feel the beginnings of a stitch coming in on my side, and every muscle in my body began to burn in the way only hard and tiring work could make them. THWACK The rhythmic shudder of the axe strike shook me once more, and I paused to take a look at my progress and quickly take a breather. Tired and just wanting some water, I wiped the sweat from my eyes and sized up the depth of my cut. It was decent enough. Good almost, but I still had quite a ways to go before I was done. Equestrian Applewood was tougher than most other types of wood, and this tree was one of the oldest in the orchard. Nevermind that I had been working on trees like this all day and my axe was probably now in dire need of sharpening after all the chopping I had done. Hell, I was lucky the axehead hadn’t come loose yet. Even luckier that she hadn’t come to check on me and notice I had stopped to catch my breath. Shaking the thought of the equine finding me not working, I returned my gaze to the trunk of the tree. It was about time to start on the back cut, and after that just a little more before I was finished for the day. Hopefully. I hefted the axe, its familiar balance of weight drawing me back in time, through the fog of memories that grew clearer as I thought of everything that lead to this. Then a feminine voice snapped me from my reminiscing. “Anon, just what in tarnation do y'all think you're doing slackin' off? The day ain't done yet!” The shout snapped my small smile away into a thin line, as I knew my moment of relaxation had come to an end. An orange coated mare with a wide cowboy hat stormed up to me, her muzzle fixed into a permanent sneer. She never smiled, at least not around me. Maybe she was a genuinely good pony around others, but not me. ”Consarnit, I've put up with enough of your dang restin'. Either keep up or I'm sendin' ya back to Twilight to be 'conditioned' again.” I let out a tired huff, but returned to felling the tree without any comments. I knew better at this point than to argue or even look up at her when she was annoyed. The mare, Applejack, nodded firmly at me and trotted off to continue her own work. I let my growing anger fuel my swings, working through the ache that I could feel all through my body. Imagining the tree being her neck… each bloody swing bringing me closer to freedom. Even after nearly a year of this sort of treatment, it was still galling to me how it could end this way. I am Anonymous, a slave in all but official paperwork. Officially, I am an indentured menial servant, one of the many others working to pay off the ‘reparations’ Equestria had demanded in return for their ‘gracious’ cessation of hostilities with Earth. Hah… 'Gracious', what a fucking joke. We could’ve kept fighting if our leaders didn’t pussy out like cowards and sign that damnable peace treaty. It was all their fault. They didn’t have the guts to win the war, and now half of Central Europe was now a massive demilitarized zone, most of the cities in it turned to dust from the war. The ruinous tear between worlds had only been responsible for a small bit of that terrible devastation. The rest had been collaboration between ponies, gryphons, and who knows what other godless sentient animals. Of course, on this side of things the portal had just been a mere curiousity that appeared in the Gryphon Lands, doing no damage besides some ecological changes. But then a group of scientists finally got the clearance to go through the time-space anomaly. Or 'The Danube Rift' as it had come to be known. One stumbled back through it a week later, covered in blood and other things best left unspoken, with his frantic and emotional report was what had finally stirred the world governments into action. And so I was sent through, an entire Division of Pathfinders from a dozen different nations, armed to the teeth and ordered to perform a reconnaissance in force. In other words, establish a bridgehead and pick a fight with the natives. It was supposed to be easy… A long groan from the wood of the tree pulled me from the reverie I found myself in. The old apple tree had started to lean a fair bit, but needed just a bit more encouragement. I hefted the axe and turned it about. Then, with a final mighty heave, I smashed the blunt side of the axehead into the boughs of the once mighty and now dead tree. It made a colossal noise as it fell to the ground, shaking the earth as it landed. I stood still for a moment, just breathing deeply and staring at the fallen giant before me. There was still work to do, cutting the limbs, debarking, maybe even cutting it into more manageable sizes to move away to its bin. But for now I took a seat, simply basking in the last rays of the sun that were now setting on the horizon. Even though there was still some work to be done with the tree, I decided I needed the rest more than those tasks needed to be finished. Besides, there was still house chores to be completed before I could even turn in for the night. Not like she payed me any attention. “Anon! Get yer butt inside before I give yer dinner to Winona!” The holler made me come alert once again and I began walking back to the farmhouse as ordered. After all, this was the supposed ‘Element of Honesty’, and she usually meant what she said. And I couldn't afford to go without food with all the work that had to be done on a daily basis. Because if I couldn't do my daily work... I shook my head, pausing in the door frame and drawing a deep breath. I knew I shouldn't think about it, lest I lose my appetite, which would mean no energy for the morning, which means... I gave myself a more violent shake and a small slap on the cheek, pushing away those terrible thoughts and joining the rest of the Apple family at the dinner table. With the four of us seated, I began to eat quietly and quickly without saying a word. Light conversation carried on between the three Apples, but they ignored me just as I had learned to ignore them. It may have seemed impolite, but it was the simplest way for them to get around the human sitting at their table, and for me to go unpunished. All I had to do was keep my mouth shut. But even then, it was only Applejack and her little sister talking. Their grandmother, grandmare, whatever the hell you call them, just stared at me. Just like every other night. Like she had a grudge against me personally. She eats a little then spends every dinner time, or any other meal really, staring at me silently. Of course, I simply ignored it and kept eating, but it had begun to wear on me. But still, I held my tongue and carried on with eating the apple themed dinner. My usual outbursts of aggression had faded after a couple of Twilight’s ‘corrections’ and manual labour was a fine outlet for any aggression or ill will I held towards the ponies at least. Besides, I didn't really want to hurt them personally , they had their orders just like I did. Well, all but her. Her treatment seemed to be personal. It didn’t take long for me to finish, and after I did I sat silently with my head down, waiting for the Apple family to finish as well. When they did, I stoop up and wasted no time clearing their dishes and bringing them into the kitchen and plopping them in the sink. I washed and dried the dishes as Applebloom came over to stand beside me. Staring at me with those wide and innocent eyes, she spoke softly. ”Ya know y'all can talk to us, right Anon? We know ya ain't a mute, so why don't ya just talk already?” Anon… saying that name so easily. Like we were old friends. Just like every night she spoke to me, and just as I had always done before, I remained silent and continued washing up, biting back the urge to demand her to say my full name instead of her childish nickname she gave me. Applebloom smacked her hooves on the hardwood table and her knitted her eyebrows with frustration. It was almost cute. ”Consarnit, everythin' would just be easy if you'd just talk to us! We're supposed to have ya over to make ya understand ponies but y'all spend everyday workin' without sayin' a word in passin'! Just say something! Please?” A second voice rang from the dining room. ”Applebloom!” Applejack's shout cowed her sister and she came over to pull the filly away. After sending Applebloom up to her room, Applejack came back and started putting the dishes away into the cupboards. I remained placid the entire time, intent on keeping my mouth shut as she continued to put the dishes away. Applejack heaved out a loud sigh beside me, apparently intent to break the silence. ”I'm real sorry about little 'Bloom, she just don't get it. An' I know y'all don't like it here an' frankly I don't want ya here any longer than I have to, but...Heck, I'm probably bein' a softie but the Solstice is in a couple days. I know it's a big time for ya human folk, so I'll give ya the day to do whatever. Gather with your kind an' whatnot.” I slowly stopped scrubbing the plate I was working on and blinked, my eyes widening the smaller bit in surprise, despite my desire to keep a totally neutral expression. A day off? She didn’t even give me a day off for my birthday. Or for Christmas. Or for anything really. She finished putting away the dishes and pointed towards a broom and dustpan in the corner of the kitchen. ”Once yer done, ya can sleep on the couch. It's supposed to be unseasonably cold and the barn would be awful chilly.” Without another word, she walked away, with the only thing to know she was still there being her faint trotting up the steps. I was left alone in the darkened house, finding myself completely stunned. And not to mention incredibly suspicious. Applejack, though not a violent slave master, had a mean habit of working me to the bone and expecting my perfect compliance and obedience like a good little doggy. She'd had no qualms of sending me off to Twilight when I’d acted out at first, for my 'reconditioning.’ The calender on the wall of the kitchen caught my eye, and I tried to connect the dots of why she would give me a day off from there. I continued to think to myself quietly as I swept the corners of the house as quickly as I could. Just what would I even do with my first taste of real freedom in over a year? And would the other slaves be getting a day off too for this small holiday, or was Applejack being especially generous with this offer? Author's Note Kept you waiting didn’t I? I’m back with another story. Sorry it took so long, but I refuse to end 2023 without publishing at least something new.
2. A Short WalkThe next two days almost seem to last a lifetime for me. Every ache seemed to carry through the days, every night spent waking up a dozen times or more. I couldn't wash away my thoughts with hard work, no matter how I had tried to. Memories of the war now passed, dozens of victories, a steady string of defeats, brothers in arms dead and dying, blood drying on my hands, face, legs. My old scars ached in sympathy with my body and thoughts, adding another level of discomfort to my already mounting unease. A constant, tinny ringing echoed in my ears and half the time I hadn't responded to Applejack hadn't been out of willful ignorance. I had been considering what I would do when I actually got to meet up with the few humans I knew were around this town still. After all, I only actually knew two of them, the rest were people I didn't know and wouldn't get to know. There wasn’t enough time in the day to socialize much. And what did Applejack even mean about the Solstice being 'important' to humans? It wasn't until I’d risen that morning that an explanation had dawned on me with the morning sun. Tor, it had to be his doing. He had a way with words and with his hands, even if his English was terrible. Torlund was smart, he could’ve weaseled us a little something. Before I left for town, Applejack had warned me to be back before the dawn tomorrow and to expect a boatload of work to make up for the day. I felt a dull pulse of pain through my aching shoulders, but had nodded when she finished. No use talking back. And with that I was free for the day. Well, free as I could be stranded in an alien land and surrounded by creatures I’d once fought against. It was a fair walk into town, and the sun had fully risen once I finally wandered among the thatched roofs of Ponyville. I spent some time simply watching the bustle of the town, ponies going about their business, a few with humans in tow behind their masters. My lips twitched at the sight, it still rubbed me the wrong way to see a human so… docile. Like a good little dog. But I didn’t brood for long before a familiar giant made his way over to me. Torlund, the giant man in question, wore a broad smile on his thickly bearded face and holds his arms open wide to me. ”Anonymous, my friend, how long has it been?” A rhetorical question of course, we both knew how long it had been. A year, it's been a year since I’d actually seen him in the flesh. Longer since we’d last talked. The two of us shared a tight embrace and he let out a thunderous laugh, drawing a few wandering eyes. He slapped my shoulder and stepped back, his grin not faltering the slightest bit. “What's the matter, young man? Catbird got your tongue?” I smiled at the joke, but shook my head slowly before rolling up my right sleeve of my ragged hemp shirt and turning the ventral of my arm to face him. Or more importantly, the jagged, black runes written on it. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, his smile shrinking into a tight line across his face as he saw the runes. ”So you were serious about that, eh? No matter, you'll still be handy. Come on then, boy, we still have preparations to make!” He wrapped his thick and muscled arm around my shoulders and practically dragged me along with him, off to who knows where. Tor had always been a strange fellow, even in the relatively short time I knew him. A Norwegian Jaeger before, he had been in team sent along to establish the bridgehead in the Gryphon Empire. He'd been the medic with the Norwegian contribution, and even they thought he was strange. A devoted pagan, almost neurotically so. His hands were adorned with twisting, eternal knots and runes that you hadn't been able to read. Always chanting in a strange tongue, to his weapon, his medical supplies, to anyone who would stick around after a conversation played out. I hadn't got along with him until... Tor's overly loud voice broke my train of thought before it could carry on towards the fog of memory. ”So is that orange one still working you like a dog? You're so tense my friend, ought to come by the spa sometime!” That's right, Tor had somehow been selected for work at the local spa. Apparently he had been a massage therapist before joining the military. What a joke life was sometimes. One day you were killing ponies and all manner of other animals in the snowy mountains, and the next you were working for them in their own little cities. ”Ah, but I suppose she wouldn't like you to be away from the farm too often. Just what did you have to do to get today anyhow?” He wiggled his eyebrows at me, still smiling broadly. I only laughed and shrugged my shoulders, taking it in stride. In all honesty, I’m still not truly sure why she had gave me a day off, even with the promise of catch-up work. I perked up when I finally noticed that we were leaving the town behind for the outskirts of the forest, and I gave Tor a questioning look. He only shook his head without answering, his face growing more serious as he stared at the rough path ahead. The Everfree, he's taking me into the goddamn witch wood itself. In a low, severe voice, he speaks up while we walk ”You know, we still must keep our traditions alive here, Anonymous. Even as I did back home, so to must I here. But it's no longer my own soul I must watch, but all of you who stand as I do. It took a great deal of bargaining, badgering, begging to get this one day.” *He paused a moment while we walked, stopping me with him as he spoke in a conspiratorial whisper.* “These ponies, they don't think as we do, we're barbarians with shiny toys to them. You cannot imagine the lengths to which I went to ensure we would have at least a single day for us and ours.” Something in the tone of his voice sends goosebumps rising on my arms. Sure, the ponies didn't treat us the best, but it was easy to understand why. They probably would have been treated much the same by us if they had not had living goddesses and literal magic on their side. But clearly, Tor wasn't as accepting of the lot he'd been dealt. Again, I could understand his aversion to essentially being a slave. I shared in that sentiment of anger. But he was a good man, more than evidenced by his efforts with this... whatever it was. I had a feeling, a little flickering flame of excitement in my gut, about what it could be. There were only so many things that happened on a Solstice, after all. And only one really made sense to me, Tor, and the others in our expeditionary unit that had wound up as indentured servants in the general Ponyville area. Blót
3. PreparationsAs the two of us continue to walk into the Everfree, Tor talks all the while. The trees thicken as he talks about his job as a masseuse, meeting other humans around town, the general attitude of the ponies, and of course his new found devotion to his faith. Sure, for the entire length of the war he had proselytized his fellow soldiers, successfully in my and a few others case not so successful in rest. But this was something new. This was an almost fanatical level of faith. Not to mention the near single-minded focus on 'keeping the human within alive' as he had put it. It sounded dangerously close to sedition. Even I had walked the thin line between resistance and outright rebellion, but I had been forcibly and painfully taught what happens when that line is crossed. Still, I listened and humored him, as there was no need to let him in on my reservations to his ideas. After the better part of an hour of wandering along a rough trail, Tor pushed aside a knot of hanging vines and gestured to the clearing beyond, then glanced to me with a wide grin. ”My friend, welcome to the Hof.” A chill ran up my spine as I stepped into the clear grove. Him calling it a 'temple' sat poorly in my stomach. It was beautiful to be sure, sun shining from on high, the bright green grasses and colorful flowers, even the massive pile of timber sitting at the center of it all. I paused. Timber in the middle? What? My eyes lingered at the middle of the grove, staring at the pile of logs that easily towered taller than me and Tor. He noticed my gaze, then gave me a cheeky grin. ”Yes, nary do I sleep at all. All night, chopping wood for this little gathering.” I shot him a sharp look, and he out a bellowing laugh, slapping me on the shoulder. ”No, of course not. You see, I was simply wandering the woods on a day I had been given free, just me and Samuel. And we found this place! Of course, it was occupied by a beast, like everywhere in this witch forest. You should have seen in, Anon, a wolf made of wood, big as a damn bear it was!” I stared at him in silence, not believing a word he had said, but he held a hand over his heart ”I swear, no way would I have been able to do this all myself!” I stared at him a moment longer, then turned back to the towering pile of timber. Eventually, I decide to believe him and just drop the topic, after all I had definitely seen stranger things far since the damn rift opened up. A bear-sized wood-wolf didn't seem too out there when there were two ponies that lifted the sun and moon. As Tor wandered about the clearing, I took a seat and leaned against the trunk of an ancient pine in thought. Where did it all go wrong? Was it when I had volunteered for the so-called 'reconnaissance' mission that had first led us to this world? Perhaps earlier, when I had tried and succeeded in Pathfinder school. Mom always did hound me to become a doctor instead. How long had it been since I saw here last anyways? Shaking the thought aside, my mind went back to the Pathfinder school. That was one of my fondest memories, standing on parade after a week with near zero sleep in the field, having the torch badge pinned onto my chest As happy as it was, things had slid from there, first Syria, then Europe, and finally here. Hell, I shouldn't have joined the army in the first place, maybe that was the mistake at the center of it all. Sure, maybe I’d be sitting on a farm in the middle of the middle of nowhere, or maybe have actually listened to my mothers ideas of college and have lived in the cities for the rest of my life, but at least then I wouldn't be a slave to technicolor ponies. Well, at least I wasn’t a gryphon slave. I shuddered a bit at the thought of the poor guys sent to the catbird empire. No real news of course, just rumors. And lots of them. Forced labour, constant beatings, starvation, public execution for the disobedient… Sure, the UN had complained about the treatment of their 'servile repayers', but the gryphons hadn't listened and the ponies had only sent a notice of concern to the gryphons to silence critics. So there was that going for me. Maybe my life wasn't too terrible after all, I had ended up working on a farm despite my choices. And at least I was fed. With a loud sigh, Tor sat beside me against the same pine tree. ”Fate works in strange ways, eh friend?” I gave him an odd look as he continued speaking, gesturing grandly around the open grove. ”Look at this place, it's untouched by the hands of man. The vaettir in these woods have not seen the likes of us, but respond all the same.” He turned his head toward me and grinned at my questioning gaze. ”The ponies ignore them all the same, worship is a concept that is all new to them. And yet, we are not free men to worship as we please.” He rubbed the bark of the tree we shared, and it groaned as the wind blew through its boughs. Sometimes though, I wondered if it truly was just the wind that made the trees moan. This land was rife with magic after all. The two of us remained silent for a long while, just letting the sounds of nature and the distant howling of the wood-wolfs. After a time, Tor broke the silence once more, his tone gentle. ”Your silence vow doesn't stop you from using instruments, yes?” I looked at him and nodded, and he visibly relaxed before standing up. ”Good, come then.” With too many unvoiced questions, I rose and followed after him. He lead the two of us to a great oak with a hollow in its trunk, rubbing the bark when he reached it. Without anymore delays, he reached in and took out a number of musical instruments, some familiar, others strange. A few drums, a weird mushroom shaped bit of metal, an odd lyre, and... a tagelharpa? When and where did he find something like that around here? Without warning, he tossed the harpa at me and I plucked it from the air with ease. He smiled and continues to lay out the various instruments as he spoke. ”You play, don't you? I remember you saying that before this mess.” I did, but it did nothing to dull my surprise at him remembering that, nevermind actually getting one of these in Equestria. It wasn't specifically forbidden to have stuff like this as we were allowed personal property, but he would’ve had to either smuggle it in or make it himself. I looked up at him again, and he seemed occupied in his own world with the instruments. All this effort, God only knew how much time and risk spent getting everything for it. It's a bit touching, but more than a bit disturbing as well. Still, I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I set the tagelharpa up on my knee, rested my fingers on the strings, picked up the bow, and gently dragged it across the strings. I frowned at the sharp sound it made. It needed tuning. I let out a quiet and almost silent sigh and set about making the instrument sound at least marginally presentable A few minutes of frustrating tuning later, and Tor came over to watched me as I worked. In an answer to the look I shot him, he shrugged. ”I can do nothing but bang drums, it is interesting to see someone who can actually make music work.” Weird, but Tor had always been strange. Even among the rest of the squad and their antics. Satisfied with how the strings sounded, I played the bow across them once more. It all sounded tuned well enough, and I move into playing a little tune that I enjoyed. Tor tapped his foot along with the upbeat sound, his grin growing as I played. It was a small and infectious thing, and I found myself smiling along with him as I ran my bow over the strings. I began move keenly from one song to the next, playing more energetically as I went along. The day drags along, and in ones and twos, more people show up and watch you play I hardly took notice, but eventually Tor clapped his hands once, prompting me to stop mid song. I raised an eyebrow at the disruption, before finally noticing the small crowd that's gathered around the grove. It may have only been fifteen men or so, but that was more than half of the entire human population in Ponyville. I hadn't been around this many in well over a year. Not since being brought here, in fact Tor greeted them all like old friends, hugging some, slapping backs, and shaking hands with them. I stood and dusted myself off, looking around the small gathering that formed to see if I knew any. Looking around, I spot one. Samuel is among them, of course, and he makes a beeline to me, offering his hand with a toothy grin. ”Anon! It's been way too damn long. That apple horse keeps you bloody busy tending to her orchards, eh?” A small blush crept on my cheeks and I shook my head at the implication. He simply laughed and punched my shoulder before leaning against the tree trunk. Samuel had been a member of the SAS that had come along with the expeditionary force, the oldest member by far. Probably in his 40’s if I had to wager. Quick with a dirty joke, and just as quick with a rifle, he had been the real heart of everything in that troop. And he too had fallen in with Tor’s practices after that first battle. But he hadn't changed all that much for it He glances at the rune in my bare forearm and clicked his tongue. ”Ah, so you were serious about that thing... explains the lack of a comeback, no matter though. You play that instrument well, lad. Good thing too, we'll need it tonight.” He looked pointedly back at Tor, who had finished socializing and clapped his hands together to get everyone’s attention, silencing the grove of all noise. Even the distant wildlife seemed to shut up, the incessant whining of bugs and chirps of birds going eerily quiet. From the ground, he plucked a lit torch someone had brought in. The grove had begun to darken as twilight comes on, and the fire casts an eerie light on his bearded face, along with the faces of the rest of us dirty and gaunt men. “Brothers! Listen to me, even though we waste under the hooves of our hosts, the fire in our hearts does not die. Tonight has been a long time coming, but at last we can shed the yoke of slavery and be free men again. And just what is it we have gathered together for?” As he tossed the torch to the base of the stacks of dried timber, setting a bonfire ablaze, the others shout with one voice as I follow silently in my heart. “BLÓT!” Author's Note I’m back. I think. I’ll try and be more active here if I can help it. Remember, any question you guys have, just ask and I’ll try and answer them.
4. BlótThe silence after the shout does not last for much more than a few beats of my heart. Tor began to chant in a deep, gravely tone, his rhythmic intonations nearly hypnotizing and having the feeling of a wild spell. No, it doesn't have the feeling of a spell, it IS a spell. Though I wasn’t sure how, I could feel magic whipping around us in the air of the grove. And judging from how the others scrambled to grab drums and the rest of the eclectic mix of instruments in a desperate frenzy, they must have felt it too. The drums begin to pound in time with Tor's chant, and I couldn’t help but slap a hand on the soundboard of my new tagelharpa along with them. Even my heart began to pound along to the beating of the drums. The others begin to sing an echoing and almost animalistic chorus in response to Tor's vocalizations. I very nearly broke my vow of silence to join in, but I could feel the runes on my wrist burning even as the words barely began to build in my throat. Biting back a hiss of pain, I remained silent, but the music still bewitched me in a way I couldn't begin to tell one who had not felt it. The grove itself seemed to join in, the trees swaying along with the song, the fire of the timbers cracking and popping in time with the drum beats. The roar of the flames seemed itself to add another layer to the music. Though I couldn't explain it, I knew exactly when to begin drawing my bow across the strings of the harpa, and exactly what notes to play. Beginning to drag my bow along the string in a daze, it began to thicken and cloud my mind, the music fading to a muddy background of ethereal noise. Dark fog seemed to slither through the grass of the clearing, though none of the crowd reacted to its presence, as if it were an old friend. Even I merely staredinto the gathering wisp, the only response seeming to be the increased frantic pace of the music. Not to ven the flames could counteract the darkness, the massive fire seemingly subdued by the thick haze. Breathling deeply, I let the haze consume all. I opened my eyes fully and found myself standing behind James and Harry, in perfect position to cover them as they advanced on the bluff they had seen movement behind. My heart began to thud in my ears as they waved for me to push forward when they halted their advance. Without a noise, I rushed up the bluff when I heard a branch snap from over it. Popping up into view, I aimed my rifle square in the face of the mountain goat that had wandered into our patrol. Shaking my head and breathing a long sigh of relief, I glanced back at James and motioned an all clear. From the sparse trees and boulders lining the mountainside, the rest of the patrol emerged from their cover. Me, James, and Harry were just one small group among many in what was being called the Extraterrestrial Expeditionary Force. Given how quickly the force had been thrown together, it was hardly surprising that we had formed into cliques or nationality and beliefs. Over there by the rocks was the German Jaeger force, resting against the trees were a group of Spetsnaz from the Senezh group, and bringing up the rear were a pair of SAS members with Pathfinder training. There were more men that were establishing a temporary base, but even this small patrol between the various operators had nearly a hundred years of training combined. The three of us from the Canadian contingent weren't nearly the most experienced, but the snowy terrain was simply what we were best trained for. So it fell to the three Canadian Pathfinders to take point. I walked over to James and gave him a rough smack on the shoulder. “All that fuss over a mountain goat, really man? I nearly blew that damn thing apart because of you.” He laughed and slugged my plate carrier in return. ”Come on, big man, you could use the exercise. Besides, you didn’t shoot it, it’s not a big deal.” Harry came over and crossed his arms, letting his rifle hand across his shoulder. ”Save the horseplay for home, boys. We've still got to finish up this patrol before you two can tussle in the bedsheets.” We shared a laugh and took point once again, the others falling in behind us in a staggered line. The route we were on carried down the mountainside and into the heavily forested valley below. Regular UAV flights had, for whatever reason, been unable to see beneath the thick canopy, both optical and infrared photos revealed nothing. So it was our first destination. It took us half the day to finally reach the valley floor, and to our great surprise, there's nothing special about it. Nothing causing some kind of interference, no special properties in the trees, just a small river and the sounds of animals. On the way back from the short mission, the usual griping about the relatively pointless mission crops up, but it's easy to hear that it's mere venting. By the time we reached the camp, the sun had already fallen behind the cliffs. The forest we had taken camp in was backlit by the eerie blue glow of the portal back home, even though it was miles away. It certainly made sleeping difficult, and not to mention it fucked with our radios for some reason, but keeping watch was a bit easier with the extra light. The camp has changed radically from when our small party had departed that morning. Gone were the single man tents strung haphazardly between trees, and in their place stood a number of larger, 6 man tents. Around the circumference of the camp, a shallow trench had been dug and a berm risen on the inside of it. Piles of sandbags marked watch positions, the closest thing to proper cover besides the thick trees themselves. A number of those trees had been felled and turned into firewood or obstacles at the single entrance to the camp proper. A pair of Danes pulled the barriers aside to let our troop pass through. The rest of the patrol split off from me, leaving James and Harry following to the command post at the center of it all. Pushing aside the flap and knocking on a desk set off to the side to announce our arrival, I cleared my throat. “Sir, patrol's back. Reporting as ordered.” The two men standing around a small table with various maps spread across it raise their eyes to meet mine, and one breaks into a smile ”Ah, the canucks are back with their team, excellent. So do tell, what did you find in this mysterious valley that got command so riled up?” I merely shrugged at the captain, holding out my open palms helplessly. “Found a lot of trees and a little river. A couple nice picnic spots too. Makes for a pretty good view. Otherwise, there wasn't really too much down there.” The captain sighed and shook his head at the news. I cleared my throat again before continuing. “Well there is some local wildlife, mountain goats for the most part. No settlements spotted though, so we should be safe from whatever got the scientists.” That captain pinched the bridge of his nose, and his adjudant speaks up in his place. ”Gents, we're here to find the source of those attacks. The fact that we haven't means we'll need to move base again. As it is, we're uncomfortably far away from any chance of extracting to a safe zone, so going deeper isn't an outcome anybody wants.” I shrugged again, unsure of what exactly to say in response. Fortunately, Harry stepped up to speak instead. ”We understand, warrant officer Klein. The problem is, whatever attacked them is long gone. Even the guys who have tracker skills haven't found anything on their route but paw prints. If we push further along the path that they travelled--” Harry cut his spiel off as somebody slammed into him from behind, knocking the air out of him. A breathless SAS trooper pushed his way into the tent, shoving past the three of us Canadians and slapping down a large sheet of paper on the table, snapping off a quick salute. ”Sir! New images from a drone overflight!” The trooper points at a section on the paper, and I peered over his shoulder as the captain's eyes widened. I didn’t have a great view as I was looking at it from the side, but what I could see chilled my spine even as the captain began to start shouting orders. “Full alert, now! Get everyone on the line, loaded up. I want the mortar team ready to fire the second I tell them. Move!” Training takes over and, despite how tired I had felt from the long patrol, I found myself with new boundless energy. I ran from the tent and threw yourself down, against the berm, looking out into the faintly illuminated forest beyond the perimeter. Another body hits the little hill beside me, and I heard him curse in a language I couldn’t recognize. A few minutes with nothing but the sounds of the forest pass, then the man next to me spoke quietly in a gruff voice. ”A false alarm, eh? Ah, too bad, I almost looked forward to fighting.” I glanced over and see a veritable mountain of a man, a dark, thick beard covering his face, and a Norwegian flag on his arm. He looked me over, then gave me a toothy grin. “Hey, you're one of those Canadians right? Heard you guys did some bad things over in Somalia. Is it true, what the reports said?” I blinked, it taking a moment to figure out what the hell he's talking about. Finally recalling it, I nodded. Maybe this guy wanted to give me a hard time over something I didn’t do. He stuck out a hand, keeping the smile on his face as I slowly took it to shake. “Torlund Alfsen, Norwegian FSK.” A loud crackle of branches pulled me away from any kind of reply, and I returned to staring into the trees, rifle shouldered. But there was nothing out there, save for the sound of a flock of birds fleeing the coming battle. Damn, there must be a lot of birds out there to be making that kind of racket. Weird too, considering I hadn’t heard a peep out of them before now. An idle thought, really just recalling a single sentence from the briefing on what the scientists had been attacked by, makes my eyes wander upwards. Oh. Oh no. I felt my heart stop for a solid second after I saw it. There, beyond the leaves, a mass of black shapes and bodies blotted out the night sky. I poked Torlund and make a sluggish and shaky gesture to shush any reaction, then pointed up. When he notices what I had seen, his eyes become wide as dinner plates, glistening in the sickly blue light of the distant portal. He rolls on his back as I have, aiming his rifle up but is disciplined enough not to fire. They haven't seen us yet, I had thought, and had desperately hoped and prayed for. That many, even with just sticks and stones, might be able to crush every last one of our small expedition under the weight of their bodies alone. I could hear whispers and the faint rustling of cloth as others around the perimeter do as me and Torlund had done. The relative stillness of the moment is broken in an instant as a single shot from a rifle rings out through the clearing. And then hell is unleashed upon us. The winged creatures descend in a massive black cloud of fury and violence. All around, the staccato cracks of rapid fire shots ring in the clearing, piercing through the relentless beating of wings. Harsh cries, screams, shouts abound in the chaos, and I found myself unloading magazine after magazine into the black mass, tearing flesh from body as shots hit. But no end is in sight. Soon it comes to my sidearm, something I had never fired in anger before. Before long, it too has fired its last shot. I shielded my body with my hands as best I could, throwing my gaze about for something, anything I could fight with. It feels like an eternity, but merely seconds later I had found just what I needed. A woodcutting axe, laid up near a section of the berm reinforced with logs. I began to swing my rifle wildly to clear the air around me for just a moment and dove to the berm, grasping the wooden pommel of the axe. With a wild shout of savagery, I began to lay the blade about the crowded shapes around me. They fall before me in droves, my arms burning with intense pain from the exertion. Here and there, I caught glimpses of my brothers in arms, fighting with whatever came to hand. There, one with a bayonet, or another with a shovel, a man swinging a rock, a hectic frenzy. No more shots rang out, there were only war cries, pained screams, the dull whack of weapons on flesh, and the crack of bone and splitting wood. As the battle became more pitched, the thudding of my heart seemed almost as a crazed war drum. In my mind, I could hear a hazy string of words layering over one another in a hypnotic swell of incredible sound. At a whisper in my ear, I whirled about just in time to catch one of the creatures flying at me. A simple thing to dispatch with a violent swing of the cutting axe. I felt a warm spray on my face as my vision had gone red and blurry from, and the sweat pouring from my brow mixed in. My lungs burnt and my body ached, but still I had fought on with my voice growing more hoarse with every savage roar. How quick man was to become a monster. The pitched battle soon came to resemble savage butchery more than fighting. These winged monsters, though many in number, fell as easily to stick and blade as they did to bullets. And so butcher I did, losing myself to the thwack of the axe, the spray of blood, and the song of death. But finally, mercifully, it ends. Fearful trembling, sweaty, and totally exhausted in a pile of corpses. Too tired to even feel disgusted as I fell to my knees as, I began to breathe deep and greedy breaths to smooth my burning lungs. The war drum of my heart continued to pound on, even with the fighting long over. And so I knelt there, in the gore drenched grass, for an eternity. The blood began to congeal on my face and I began to become aware of throbbing and savage cuts across my body, the pain striking me like a train as tears began to creep out of my eyes. A cool wind blows through the battlefield, stinging my wounds and sending a chill up my spine, making my trembling even more pronounced. I still couldn't find the energy to stand, settling instead for looking around the immediate area. Immediately, I wished I hadn't Among the dark bodies of whatever it was that had attacked the expedition, it's all to easy to pick out the shapes of men in lighter colored fatigues. And there are far too many of them. Numbering over half of our initial count. Around us even more of the birdlike creatures, either dead or dying. I could feel the tears in my eyes flow more quickly when I spotted them. Two men, lying side by side in the same pattern of camouflage I wore, their berets on the floor by their sides. I hadn’t even need to see the red leafed flags to know it was James and Harry. A flurry of emotions flashed over me quickly. Fury that they had been killed, regret that I hadn't been alongside them fighting, sorrow at their passing. But above it all, a burning, poisonous hatred of whatever had done this. As I knelt, covered in dried blood, tears making tracks on my face, I made a vow. There would be no quarter given to whatever it was that had killed them. Suddenly, a hand lays itself on my forehead and pushes my gaze up. Blinking a few time, I found myself looking at Torlund, his own face covered in gore, his beard matted and eyes wild with hate. His voice comes in a dire whisper, holding reverence and kindness in equal measure ”It's time, Anonymous.” I blinked my eyes once more, confused by his cryptic words. The glow of firelight behind him, there hadn't been a fire lit at the camp. His face is clean, though covered in a sheen of sweat that makes the light dance about his forehead. And then I snapped back to the current moment, to the grove, the ritual, Blót. Yes, that was where I was. My fingers throbbed, and a look shows me a series of weeping welts. Yes, that was right, I had been playing the tagelharpa along with Tor's song, his spell. It was just a memory, that's it He helped me to my feet and I followed him to the slowly dying bonfire. Everyone else is standing in a circle around it, but they make room for me and Tor to join them. Tor joins them in the chant they've carried on while he had fetched me from my recollection. I simply waited, unable to join in the chant despite my heart longing for it. After a while, when the fire is dimming to embers, the chanting ceases and Tor begins to speak. “Brothers, sisters, as the fire wanes, so too does our time together draw close to its end. Before we return to our servitude, we must bring this blót to a closing that will appease the gods. We have no livestock nor harvest to offer them, so instead we must each offer part of ourselves in tribute.” He draws a long, black iron knife and lays the edge of the blade on his wrist joint ”As Odin sacrificed for his knowledge of the world and as he did for his learning of the runes, so must we sacrifice for our own gain. We sacrifice for health, for fertility, for freedom.” With that, he draws the knife easily over the skin. He holds his wrist out, over the embers of the bonfire, and holds it there as he passes the knife to the next in the circle. The man who takes it from him mirrors his movements before passing it along. As does the man beside him, and the man beside him, and so it carries around the fire until I’m the one to hold it in my hand. Laying the wet edge of the blade on my wrist and licking my lips, I felt sweat prickling my scalp. Blood always made me queasy. A glance to my right tells you that Tor is watching me, and a look around reveals that everyone has their gazes locked on me intently as well. I gritted my teeth and hurriedly drew the knife over my wrist, wincing at the sudden pain. As Tor and the others have done, I held my wrist over the dying remains of the fire. The moment the first drops of my blood touch the smoldering charcoal, a rush of blazing flame leaps from the center and dazzles the circle. Tor immediately begins singing in at a frenetic pace and the others join in. Another spell, I could feel the air around humming with magic. The fire itself seems to dance with the music, and my heart becomes a drumbeat in time with the magical sound. My wrist began to itch fiercely, and it takes an immense amount of concentration to not dig my nails into it and make it stop. After a long while, the chant ceases all at once. The grove is plunged into darkness once again, though in the dim moonlight you see all that is left of the fire is merely scorched grass. Everything else has vanished, all the logs and branches that had once stood tall seemingly vaporized. Real magic, I shivered at the thought of it. As the others leave the circle and sit down in ones and twos, I quickly realize the throbbing from my wrist has all but vanished. Turning it towards myself, I brushed against it gingerly, expecting a flare of pain. But there's nothing there. I could feel nothing but a slight indentation of a scar, not even a scab over it. Flexing my wrist back and forth, letting the moonlight catch in the new found scar, there was no sign, except for a thin line, that I had ever spilled my own blood in sacrifice. A look around tells me only a few others are doing the same, most seeming to have taken the strange phenomena in stride. Tor has already disappeared from the clearing, and the instruments with him. I looked and stared up at the moon, wondering at everything that had occurred that night. The magic in the air, the dark fog that had brought me back to the first battle, the cutting and subsequent healing of your wrist. I began to wonder if it was wise to come here. Slowly, I shook the thoughts from your mind and began to stand, giving a silent nod in departure, and began to follow the winding game trail back from the Everfree to Ponyville. I tried to pry my thoughts from the frenzy of it all. To focus my thoughts on the day to come, on what chores I would need to do on the farm, on catching at least a few hours of sleep. But my memories kept drawing me back, pressing against my mind, demanding my attention. I don't indulge them, and after a while I found myself back at Sweet Apple Acres. Silently sighing, I pushed open the door to my small shed I called home. Thoughts began to whip around in my mind. Just how did Tor get that magic? Had this land changed him? With a quick shake of my head, I cleared my mind. No, no introspection tonight, it had been a strange enough day as it was. Instead, I lied down on the ripped up couch I had for a bed and closed my eyes. A long day was still coming tomorrow. Author's Note Initially I had planned for this story to be set during the 70’s but I’ve decided to retroactively change this to the 90’s, just after the fall of the USSR. Why? Because I felt like it, that’s why.
5. CalmThe next several months passed in a blur I'd be hard pressed to describe much of it, it all seemed lost in a slew of hard work and torturous memories. The harvest came and went, working me to the bone, but it was bountiful, even by Equestrian standards, and Applejack had been becoming more lenient with me. Nothing grand such as petitioning the princess on my behalf, but little things like an extra helping at dinner, or not sending me for reconditioning if when I was acting out a bit more than usual. Of course, I didn't abuse her sudden goodwill either, in fact I did my best to work harder to keep it going. I couldn't arouse any suspicion after all. Though I still refused to speak, I still manned the selling booth with Applejack when the season came to sell her goods. For the most part, I simply worked on delivering orders or carrying bushels of fruit home for ponies. But in the down time, a few of my friends would come and talk. Just meaningless small talk of course, no one mentioned that strange night nor anything that had happened since. And here I was at the last market day before the snow fell, waiting for the last orders of apple preserves to be picked up. It had been slow today, which had left me cold despite the jacket that I had been issued. It wasn't thick enough, but it was what I had on hand so I simply heaped layers on under it. Not like they'd let us wear our old uniforms. They took them from us and burnt them, claiming letting us have it would 'embolden defiance.' The Equestrians sure had a way of trying to break one's spirit. ”Well, I'm gonna go see Twilight about some of them preservin' spells she was going on about. Y'all good to man the booth by yourself?” I give her a thumbs up and she smiles. Yes, she certainly had been far more trusting as of late. Trusting enough to leave me alone when I was working. More than enough time to pocket some stuff. Just a few moments after she trots off, Samuel approaches the booth with a large grin on his face. ”Hey, Anonymous! How are you doing today?” I shrugged and gestured at him as he leans on the counter ”I'm alright, thank you for asking. I'm here to pick up an order for Roseluck." He quickly checks a small note, then glances back up at me. "Ten cases of preserves. Should've gotten here earlier today." Ah yes, he belonged to that botanist. What strange skills so many of us soldiers had taken on after the fighting. Well, besides me of course. I was the only one who was 'employed' on a farm in Equestria. We were the lucky ones. Those sent to Griffonia... Shaking my thoughts aside, I nod to Samuel and begin to grab his shipment, but something about the way he is feels...off. As I finished gathering the cases of apple preserves I look a bit closer at his smiling face. Yes, something was indeed wrong with the way he spoke, it was far too proper and stiff. His eyes told the entire story. The pupils had a slightly ragged look to them, and his gaze was distant and empty. Reconditioning. He'd been over at Twilight's. Samuel had never been a troublemaker, so why had he been sent off? These troubling thoughts remained as I laid the cases out and count out his payment. It was all there, of course, and Samuel takes the cases and says his goodbyes before leaving the market stall, walking with his awkward gait. Twilight must've really scrambled his mind. That, or Samuel was more susceptible to Equestrian magic. Even when Applejack returned, I continued to worry about what it meant that he had gone and been reconditioned. He wasn't one to break under pressure, so I don't think he'd have revealed anything incriminating about what happened in the forest. However, I had felt the effects of whatever magic that Twilight used. Perhaps even he might've broken. I coukd feel mtly nerves fray as the day goes on, but Applejack doesn't say a word as we finally begin to close up the stand. The two of us take up opposite ends of the cart and begin the trip back to Sweet Apple Acres. When we arrive, Applejack leaves me to stow the cart in the barn, presumably to go help Applebloom with dinner. The dull labor leaves me some time to think. How would I avoid questions about what Twilight had surely told her? More importantly, how would I avoid going back to be reconditioned? A shiver runs up my spine, but it has nothing to do with the steadily dropping temperature. Dying would be preferable to going through that again. I knew what Samuel, the real Samuel, was going through. Trapped inside hisbown mind, screaming answers and questions that would never reach his lips. Compared to that, even total nothingness was a mercy. I envied the dead during those moments. To embrace the final slumber instead of being a prisoner of my own body. I shake the morose thoughts from my mind as I climb the cellar steps, having stored the last preserves from the cart. It was about time to eat, and I provably wouldn't be so dour on a full stomach. Pushing open the door of the main house, I find Applejack seated at the dinner table, alone. Applebloom and Granny Smith were nowhere to be seen, nor was there even a scrap of food on the table. They weren't here? As I mutely approach, Applejack simply gestures for me to take a seat beside her. Beside her, not across as it so usually was had brought you here. I could feel sweat prickling my back, nerves coming to the fore once again. She knew. She had to have known. I take my seat beside her and she stays quiet for a while, the only sounds are the creaking of the old house as the cold wind whips it from outside. Finally, she speaks up in a grave tone. ”Granny and Applebloom are visitin' our family in Appleloosa, they ain't been out there for a while.” I didn't know they had extended family, or that there was even a place called Appleloosa. What a strange world ”Now then, Twi was talkin' to your friend Samuel there. You remember that big Solstice festival I let you go to?” I nod, becoming more uncomfortable with where this was going. ”Well, Samuel mentioned somethin' about magic in the air. What's more, Twi noticed them beasts in the Everfree were getting agitated around the same time.” My teeth bit my tongue tightly, and my body tensed up. This was it. Applejack must've notice because she holds out her hooves to try and placate me. ”Look, I ain't sendin' y'all off for reconditioning. You ain't done anythin' that bad in ages, and if I'm real honest I didn't like how it turned you out the first time. It just weren't...you.” She trails off, a slight blush dusting her orange cheeks. But just as quick as it appears, she shakes her head and it's gone. ”So I want to hear it right from you. Were y'all using magic at whatever party you had?” She stays silent and I stay still. The impasse lasts for a minute, then two, but she holds out longer than I can. Slowly, my shoulders slump and I nod meekly. Applejack lets out a quiet sigh and seems to relax a bit at my compliance. I hated it, this feeling of helplessness. "Thank ya, Anon. Now listen, I know y'all don't have magic where you come from but it ain't all the same. Unicorns use a very specific kind, it's safe and stable. But that kind in the Everfree? It's wild, dangerous stuff that makes good folks into crazy beasts.” She reaches over and places a hoof onto my hand. ”You didn't know you were doing anythin' dangerous, so like I said you don't need to worry about any reconditioning. Just spread the word around, alright? None of us wanna make things around here any harder on y'all, but we expect the same.” I nod in agreement. I'm not really sure how I could spread the word, but I could understand the sentiment of live and let live. Besides, that ritual had left me with a poor taste in my mouth and a pit in my stomach. Nothing about it had sat well with me at all. The memories had been far too real to brush them off, and I had felt as though the blood had truly been coating my face again. It was a grisly reminder of the hell that had brought us here. ”Alrighty, let's hit the hay then. Still got some work to do before the snow hits, I've got to head into town tomorrow, you'll be stayin' behind and doin' some maintenance in the tool shed. I'll show ya before I go.” Again, I nod, and without another word Applejack heads upstairs. It's a while before I turn in on the couch that had become my new bed. The nerves that had plagued me before the conversation have gone, but in their place came different worries. Just what had this magic done to me? Had Tor known about all this before before the ritual, had he even cared, or did the though of revenge cloud his mind? What about everyone else, did they have experiences like I did? Relive the war? I doubt that answers for that will ever come, and there's a part of me that hopes they never do. At long last, sleep claims me in blessed silence. Author's Note Sorry for taking so long to actually write this part. TLDR of it is that I finished my training for work and then two days after, they told me my jobsite as an apprentice would be taking me halfway across my state. So yeah, not exactly conditions for a guy to get the creative stuff flowing. But I'm back. I think? I hope.
