It is not easy being a hero.
Especially when it's not about the kind of hero who's tall, strong, and most often than not surrounded by fans, whose mere presence solves problems. No, I was painfully ordinary. No medals for extraordinary bravery, far from truly important positions in the hierarchy. Just a normal brown-coated thestral mare with a sapphire mane. Despite that, it was me, not them, who decided to fly for hours while carrying such a horrendously overweight rifle. Would they do such a thing, especially after a filling supper? I wouldn't bet on that. But hey, all for the cause, am I right?
Wait a minute, was I meant to turn right past the Midnight Chapel? Or left? Certainly right, I think. Then, at the sloping, red-tiled roof, I turned left and flew to the other side of the road. I was told that from there, I should be able to spot my objective... And there it was! Without precise information on what and where to look for, I would have gotten lost a long time ago. Here in Batsby, you can clearly tell where the faithful lived. While our structures were marble and ebony-covered monuments to the Empress, the suburbs owned by the zebras presented a very different picture. I was surrounded by almost identical, aging huts, reinforced only with mostly already rotten boards. The sad part was that those laborers who lived inside were not slaves but fully fledged citizens, or some even served as auxiliaries.
I remember it used to be quite a bearable place back then. Zebras would hang their fancy fetishes, colorful masks, and bells on thick strings thrown across the street. When I was little, I even liked to come here to listen to the singing of clay figurines that zebras put on the windowsills. Even the slightest gust would fill the cobbled streets with chirps and warblings, and to me, a young filly, it sounded like the charming trill of a flock. But those times had passed, even before the recent yeti invasion. Nowadays, there was only one principle in spatial planning – if it didn't contribute to overall defensiveness, then it was worthless. The strings were a nuisance for our flying patrols that roamed the city, so the Legionary Council ordered them removed. The clay figurines also disappeared at some point, though I couldn't even remember when or by whose order. Such a pity.
Well, sometimes we were quite touchy, or rather complicated, I should say. Speaking of complexity, maybe I wasn't entirely honest with you. There was a possibility that devotion to Empress wasn't the sole reason for my little hunt. Due to an unfortunate mistake someone made (and I was sure my superiors had nothing more than clues to tie me to this case), this silly scandal with missing correction collars would drag me into serious trouble.
Yes, maybe I was somehow involved in it, in a sense.
That's why I couldn't ignore it and move along. I needed some solid proof of my usefulness and unwavering loyalty to the Council. They surely wouldn't convict me if I was useful, could they? I spent a month trying to come up with a sensible plan, but it's hard to be brave when you work for the Native Affairs Commission. It's even worse when you are working for the department taking care of fisheries and local trade. Because what would I do? My duties included stamping and surveying the fish stocks around Batsby. For a moment, I even thought about giving up accepting bribes. Only then would I be not so much brave as stupid.
As long as the laborers kept working, none of the immediate superiors cared about how we dealt with the matters assigned to us. Only maneuvers mattered. Trading between the locals mostly involved fruit or simple trinkets, so our little mischiefs didn't hurt anyone. Without those extras, our payment was, so to speak, underestimated. Don't get me wrong – I'm a legionnaire, and I chose this career. Not everypony has to be a soldier twenty-four hours a day. I'm not gonna lie – when I started, this job was pretty decent. But it got worse far too quickly. Tartarus if I know why. While the army was getting better and better, we, equally faithful servants of the night, were left with scraps.
Therefore, no, resignation from these... Additional fees was completely out of the question. Besides, if it wasn't for the friends I made through these voluntary practices, I wouldn't know how much corrective collars are worth on the black market!
Over time, the situation began to become dangerous. I was summoned under various pretexts for "friendly" interrogations. And I can swear they started watching me. They had their investigation, sure, but that was a bit of an exaggeration. In the absence of a better idea, I decided to seek advice. I could count on a few friends in the department, but at the same time, I had enough common sense to think it through. Some would certainly not only sell me on demand but even look for a buyer on their own. On the other hand, there were also those whose impeccable nature circulated in legends. Most of the time, they were quickly transferred to the medical department for their merits, which in the eyes of anyone in their right mind was a sufficient warning against excessive familiarity.
I almost gave up, but then it occurred to me.
Poisoned Chalice.
He was the type of pony I was looking for. Some whispered that he used to belong to a sect, maybe he was a socialist like Dusk Wane. I didn't know, and I wasn't interested in politics. Nor did I need to know what his job was. Army or not, he was a legionnaire, and as long as he wasn't a heretic, he could do what he wanted. He always seemed serious, a little aloof, but he was not averse to sensible business. And when it came to favors, he had never let me down when we had worked together. We knew a lot about each other, and I was sure that when it came to the indigenous resistance movement, this thestral had a sixth sense. I confided my problems to him, and before I knew it, the plan was in place. That's how I entered the path of heroism for good.
With every step, loose roof tiles wobbled beneath me, but with a little care, it was nothing to worry about. One last jump, and when the flat wooden roof groaned under my weight, I was there. The sky was perfectly clear, and the sun hadn't even risen yet, so I had no problem telling the time from the stars. To my surprise, I was ahead of the scheduled time. Now all I had to do was lie patiently and wait for their arrival. As soon as the last one came out of hiding, I would take aim, pull the trigger... Bang! Bang! After that, I would take something from the battlefield to prove my usefulness, and it would be done. I didn't even have to hit – making them surrender was enough. Just imagine, Gloam Dusk, once an ordinary mare, now a true bane of heretics! It was a perfect plan.
It's true, I haven't been shooting much lately, and even while training with my legion, I preferred to focus on martial arts. But back in the academy, I had good results at the range. Once. I pulled out my BA-T Aviva rifle. Although its rate of fire was inferior to the newer Ursa Carbine, it was still a significant improvement over those old breech-loaded models.
I looked around, and the full moon bathed the green and yellow grove in its gentle light. Sparse olive trees dotted the landscape. Cool breeze carried the strong scent of the day-parched grass and the sweet fragrance of flowers. Summer was in full swing, and in that moment, I truly immersed myself in the vibrant nature I had missed so much. It was unfortunate that my office duties rarely allowed me the opportunity to spend time in the countryside.
One day, I promised myself, I would leave it all behind—let others count fish or listen to gibbering zebras—and embark on a real vacation. Not to the desert like last year. Zarantia was a stupid idea. Cheap but still stupid. Lost in my thoughts, I listened dreamily to the sounds of the night. The steady chirping of crickets, the hooting of an owl, the fleeting flight of a bat, and then... Voices? Suddenly, I snapped back to reality.
Voices?
I stood up, feeling perplexed. Something was off. I could have sworn that Chalice mentioned it was an abandoned building. Perhaps I had gotten the wrong address? I scanned my surroundings, but there was no creature in sight. If someone was talking far away among the trees, I simply wouldn't be able to hear them. Resting my rifle against the sad stump of the chimney, I searched the roof, but found nothing to capture my attention. Just a pile of rubble, scattered garbage, and a heap of sand in the corner. If someone was inside, I had no way to confirm it from here. Typically, these types of houses had some sort of entrance from above. So, I made up my mind to take a closer look and try again.
Searching through the pile and scattered garbage would be a futile effort, but there might be something hidden beneath the sand. I dipped my hooves into it and, lo and behold, I hit the jackpot! Shoveling away the sand, I uncovered a large hatch. To my surprise, it opened surprisingly easily and almost silently. I peered inside, but it was pitch black. Of course, that wasn't a problem for me. You see, my eyesight is adapted for flying in extremely challenging conditions. I can adjust to any level of darkness that the night presents, all within a fraction of a second. Fortunately, zebras do not possess this gift. How do I know that? Because by the time a dozen of them opened fire, I was already gone.
Taking advantage of the limited time I had, I quickly assessed my options. Hiding or fighting would be futile. I was outnumbered, and they were heavily armed. Even two adversaries would pose a significant threat to me. So what choice did I have? The whizzing bullets in the air made the decision for me. I grabbed the rifle in my mouth and took off running, not even having the time to put it back into my saddlebag.
Flying out into the wilderness was out of the question. I wasn't familiar with the area, and my flying speed wasn't fast enough to dodge the barrage of bullets safely. My only hope was to retreat the same way I came. Zebras were not as agile as I was, so perhaps I could lose them among the rooftops.
Curses trailed behind me as I soared across the street. However, my landing did not go as planned. Despite my desperate attempts to maintain my balance while clutching the rifle in my mouth, I was clearly losing the battle against gravity. But I had no choice but to press on. I leaped forward, traversing the sloping red roof. I had walked this path once before, I reassured myself. That had to be enough... And then, something snapped.
Before I knew it, I had the sky under my hooves. A fall from that height would be painful, so as I landed on the cobbled street, I sincerely thanked Nightmare Moon for the wings bestowed upon our heritage. However, it was too late to make a clean escape. I had lost too much precious time, and my pursuers were right behind me. It was now a matter of acting or facing certain demise.
In that crucial moment, something caught my eye—a parked truck nearby. Without hesitation, I sprinted towards it, and luck was on my side. The zebra driver remained fast asleep, oblivious to my presence, as I swiftly slipped inside the truck, concealing myself among the boxes and securely closing the heavy reinforced door behind me.
"Hey, you!" I heard the unmistakable voice of one of my tormentors. "Wake up, you damn fool!" The driver must have been an incredibly heavy sleeper, as it wasn't until a gunshot rang out that he woke up, screaming in terror.
"Have you seen... Never mind. Your truck, I need to see inside," a voice outside exclaimed. Oh crap, I thought, I was screwed!
Someone pulled at the truck door. Once, twice, and finally with such force that the entire truck shook.
"It's a no go, buddy. They're slammed shut. You can't open them without the key," came the response.
"Is that so? Then I'll make my own way." Several bullets pierced through the truck, landing dangerously close to me and leaving round holes in the crates. If she continued shooting blindly, she would eventually hit me, if not for the relentless resilience of the driver. Whatever he was transporting must have had some value, because a brawl broke out among the zebras. I silently cheered for my unwitting savior, but any attempt to join the fight would only result in a bloodbath for both of us. The situation was eventually diffused by the arrival of more rebels, who apparently caught wind of another trail. The storm of violence gradually gave way to silence, and the silence gave way to prolonged snoring.
I let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the temporary respite from danger.
Tonight hadn't been kind to me, so I was surprised by the familiar, sweet scent that filled the air. I sniffed around the crates stacked inside the truck. Each chest bore the wax seal of one of our departments, adorned with a blue seal bearing the symbol of a golden tower. The Kingdom of Warzena. Although I couldn't decipher the inscriptions on the seals, I surmised that the contents were meant for trade. Using my rifle as a lever, I broke off one lid, revealing the source of the sweetness – densely packed, ripe mangoes. Unfortunately, some of them had been damaged in the confrontation. Thus since they had already suffered losses, I reached for the intact ones. A few more wouldn't make much of a difference.
What now? The zebras would probably linger for a while before finally giving up. It wasn't in their nature to risk an encounter with a patrol. But did that mean I should stay here? With a sense of sadness and a mouth full of juice, I realized that there wasn't much waiting for me behind this door. Something had gone wrong. Instead of being the hunter, I had become the prey myself. Chalice had given me the correct coordinates, so the open question remained: who had warned the resistance? Almost every scenario seemed grim, but the worst would be if one of the legionnaires turned out to be an enemy spy. Whatever the case, my plan had crumbled like a house of cards. I was once again threatened with a tribunal, and I felt helpless against it.
As cruel as the insurgents could be, they were no match for a tribunal. Back at the academy, I had heard countless stories about the ancient methods judges used to extract the truth from unfortunate souls they interrogated. Just the thought sent shivers down my spine. I desperately needed a brilliant new plan or, at the very least, a stroke of luck.
And this time, luck was on my side. As I finished my sixth fruit, the pit felt unusually heavy. I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, but then I used my sharp fangs to crack it open. Instead of a fibrous seed, gemstones wrapped in tissue paper spilled out! How had they been concealed? By magic? More importantly, how many more pits held such surprises? There were hundreds of fruits, so it would take me a while to examine each one. At least I would die rich.
Or should I approach it differently? The first plan had failed, but now I had stumbled upon a smuggler's trail! I needed to get out of here immediately and inform the gendarmerie. However, there was one problem: how was I supposed to open the door? Brute force was an option, but even if the driver didn't wake up, I was certain that any creature nearby would hear me. Perhaps it was too much of a risk. Come on, brain, I thought to myself, show me that it wasn't just about wings.
Through the bullet holes, I noticed that it was already bright outside. Should I use my rifle to break the lock? That seemed absurd. But what other options did I have? I couldn't stay here indefinitely. Right? Or maybe...? If I was correct and the cargo was meant for export, the truck would eventually leave. And they would open it at the border, with me still inside! Why risk encountering zebras when I could simply sit back and wait for others to extricate me? While Chiropterra didn't engage in trade with the east or south officially, ordinary citizens often participated in it as a side venture. The authorities turned a blind eye to this, understanding that contraband wouldn't move itself. Nonetheless, the border was heavily guarded and patrolled day and night. I had even encountered a border guard once, so I knew a few things about their routine. When the truck reached the river, it would undergo inspection. I had entered this situation fighting for my life, but I would emerge as a hero. And I had hidden a gemstone or two... As keepsakes.
The tension that had sharpened my senses began to rapidly dissipate. Combined with a satisfied belly, it made my body unbearably heavy. Outside, birds were chirping, and the driver continued to snore. I decided it wouldn't hurt to catch some sleep. Worst-case scenario, they would wake me up at the border.
... ... ...
Something jolted me violently, abruptly pulling me out of my slumber. I opened my eyes, only to immediately regret it. The light was unbearably bright, blinding even. It must have been midday, and the door was open. Blinking, I forced myself to focus. There were figures outside, but all I could discern was their presence. At that moment, however, it was enough for me to know that we had arrived.
"I-I am Gloam Dusk. I follow the path of the benevolent moonlight and obey the Council." Though my voice wavered, I tried to sound confident. I stood up, still rubbing my sore eyes. As I had mentioned before, a thestral's eyesight can adapt quickly to changes. "I am a corporal and a legionnaire from the Batsby Native Affairs Commission." But that was true only during the nighttime hours. "I am conducting a secret investigation. There is illegal contraband hidden in the truck, and the zebras responsible for this shipment are unauthorized smugglers, so... I thought... Well..." I trailed off. While my eyesight had finally adjusted, my situation had tragically worsened. Zebras in dark green uniforms didn't appear too concerned about my report. Or at least, not concerned in the way I had expected.
... ... ...
"And then I surrendered," I concluded, shrugging my hooves. Lady Beige, the interrogator, carefully noted down my words in a pocket notebook and looked at me intently. Lady Beige wasn't her real name, of course. Despite our acquaintance, she had yet to share that detail with me. She wore a uniform, indicating that she must be some kind of soldier, but her rank remained unknown.
"Gloam Dusk, I must remind you that the charges against you include espionage, smuggling, fanaticism, and bitting a guard on duty. Not to mention that you are a thestral – you are well aware that you couldn't have acted alone. We should help each other, but as long as you continue with these... Stories, I can't do anything for you," she said. Every interrogation followed a similar pattern, I thought bitterly. It began with threats, and if she didn't hear what she expected along the way, negotiations would commence. It was somewhat comforting to know that there were alternative methods to the sadistic violence that dominated our justice system. In Warzena, they apparently bored prisoners to death. I had spent the past two weeks alternating between a cramped, musty cell and this dull room with beige walls, with only this tall black and white striped mare for company. There were no windows, so I had no sense of time or how long they kep me here. Of course, there was still the walk from the cell to the interrogation room, but after my ill-fated attempt to escape, they blindfolded me every time.
"Furthermore," she added, glancing at her notes, "what you're saying doesn't explain how you arrived here in the first place. If the truck allegedly containing contraband was intended to cross the border, why wasn't it inspected?" Despite my efforts to remain composed, I felt my left ear flicker in anger. "Yes, that's a mystery," I sighed and rolled my eyes. Bribery would one day destroy Chiropterra.
Honestly, I didn't expect today to be any different from any other day in here, so I nearly jumped in my seat when the bolt on the door moved with a loud thud. Lady Beige stood up, and the strangest zebra I had ever seen entered the room. While most zebras followed a similar fashion with mostly straight haircuts, this creature looked utterly bizarre. He was some kind of dignitary, but I preferred to call him Bigwig. It was the first time I had seen such a lush black beard, adorned with milky white pearls and beads woven into it. Instead of a uniform, he wore a robe made of an expensive fabric that I couldn't even name (all interwoven with gold thread, because why not!), with a silver diadem resting on his head. As he stood beside the table that separated me from the interrogator, a strong perfume wafted from him. What was that scent supposed to be? Honey? Flowers? Some kind of fruit? The fragrance was so overwhelming that it could have been anything. Well, if that wasn't what a million bits looked like, then I didn't know what to look for.
I strained my ears. As soon as they started talking, I had to memorize every word. Any information could be useful for planning an escape, and in the situation I found myself in, even the smallest clue would be welcome. The location of a room with an unbarred window, the name of any of the guards—anything would suffice. Even a simple weather forecast might prove valuable. Unfortunately, I was immediately disappointed. Not because they didn't begin talking. They did. And they were probably discussing something important, perhaps even something that could aid me, but unfortunately, they didn't do it in any language I understood.
Giving up hope of deciphering the meaning, I focused on their tone. It was serious, formal, and official. While Lady Beige spewed short, soldierly sentences, the Bigwig pronounced each word carefully and solemnly, sounding almost like a Moonspeaker during ceremonies. They spoke so differently that I was amazed they understood each other. Lady Beige's behavior revealed that something was amiss. Despite her soldierly demeanor, she seemed uneasy, often glancing in my direction. If it concerned me, I had to somehow extract the information from them, even if it meant getting myself into more trouble. When they finished their conversation and Bigwig turned to leave, it was time for a little provocation.
"Excuse me, but I think I know you," I attempted to imitate his manner of speech. If he didn't know how to speak Equestrian, I could at least try to annoy him by mimicking him. "Aren't you the one they talk about in Batsby? I never thought I would find myself in the presence of such a famous aristocrat." Lady Beige glared at me angrily, but before she could react, the Bigwig lifted his hoof, silencing her.
"I don't recall asking you to speak. I do understand the language of the Hippogriffs, but rest assured, your flattery won't work on me at all while I am here," he replied. The first part of my plan was successful. We made contact.
"Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. I work for the Council, so I am well-informed. Namely..." I began, but he cut me off with a weary voice.
"Save it. You had two months for confessions. You know perfectly well that it is too late for feigned sincerity now." As I contemplated how to phrase my next question, muffled and indistinct noises started to emanate from beneath the floor. Ignoring it, I asked him what he meant when he said it was too late. The smile he gave me sent a chill down my spine.
"Do you still want to pretend? So be it, but it only whets my appetite for tomorrow," he said. With each sentence he spoke to me I noticed his elaborate accent faded, giving way to a guttural shout. Or perhaps he was simply trying to drown out the growing noises.
"You need to know that I am personally overseeing your case. We haven't captured a thestral alive in years. You come to us at night, armed and cruel, hunting us like animals! You kidnap our loved ones, poison our country with opium, and then you exalt yourself because some fairy pony from the moon promised you something? If it were solely up to me, I would gladly... What are they doing down there?!" he screamed as there was a loud bang. “Silence them!” The zebra interrogating me hesitated for a moment, but eventually obediently trotted outside.
We stared into each other's eyes for a moment, but then he brushed his chin back in a sweeping motion, revealing a scar stretching from ear to ear, pale and throbbing.
Apparently, the thick beard served a purpose beyond mere aesthetics.
I was shocked. I tried to say something, but all I could do was whisper “I’m not a slaver.”
"Oh yes you are, and It's your doing. You surprised me before, but I'll never break! I promise you, it won't happen again. The sons and daughters of the House of Alizamalbar do not give up so easily," he concluded triumphantly. I remained silent, unsure of what to say. Thestrals lived and died for one purpose only – to fight against the tyranny of the sun when the day comes. Everything else was secondary. Even if we became worse tyrants than those we sought to stop, it was our duty to obey. As long as I lived in Chiropterra, I couldn't escape it.
"And if you truly don't know what awaits you, I'll let you in on the secret. In the Kingdom of Warzena, we respect the traditions of other creatures. That's why I'm going to ensure you meet your goddess directly.” What could he mean? I wondered in my mind. Apparently it was evident that I was clueless, because he said “Still nothing? You'll be burned at the stake!" Just wonderful.
... ... ...
After he left, I found myself alone with my thoughts. My self-preservation instinct told me that I should proceed with my next brilliant plan, but my common sense responded with a resounding nuh-uh, we are doomed. And it was hard for me to disagree. I had gotten myself into trouble many times before, but I always had a trick up my sleeve that could save me. Now, all I had left were sharp teeth and an exceptional intellect. It was a lot, but still not enough. The room had bare walls, a simple table, and two chairs.
I knew there was a guard outside who had brought me here, but I knew nothing else about my surroundings. The blindfold had done its job well. There must have been a commotion downstairs, but it seemed to have quieted down by now. It was a missed opportunity, as I might have been able to take advantage of the confusion. I was truly in dire straits.
No! I told myself firmly. I needed to gather my wits. I couldn't afford to succumb to common sense. Such thinking wouldn't get me anywhere, and the prospect of being burned at the stake meant that no step could be too extreme. It literally couldn't get any worse. Our legions had been fighting for a thousand years, so I could fight for another half an hour. With determination, I took flight and hovered over the door. My plan was as follows: step one, someone would open the door; step two, I would attempt to disarm them or at least ensure they didn't pose a threat to me; step three, I would figure out as I flew down the corridor. This time, my plan had to work.
And perhaps it would have worked if someone had actually shown up. I tried to be patient, but nothing happened. No guard, no interrogator, no nothing. Was this a new strategy to extract information from me by leaving me with a vision of a certain demise? I would like to think so, but there was something in the zebra's voice (what was his name again?) that made me doubt it. And that scar...
I pressed my ear against the wall to hear what was happening on the other side. Nothing. Not even the slightest sound. It didn't make sense. Maybe it was just late? But no matter what time I passed through here under escort, the building was always buzzing with life. If they were planning to break me, they should be standing on the other side of the door at this very moment, waiting for the perfect moment. They surely didn't just leave it open...
The lock clicked as I pressed the handle. Say what? I opened it slightly, but seeing no creature, I casually stepped out into the corridor. If it weren't for the fact that they threatened me with a brutal death in flames, I would have started to worry about their safety standards.
I cautiously explored the nearby rooms, eerily resembling the one I had spent so much time in. It was only from the outside that I noticed how thick their walls were. Whoever built this place took great care to ensure that no sounds reached the interrogators. Unless it was very loud that is. At the end of the corridor was my staircase behind partially open grates. I could reach it in a matter of seconds, but I wasn't in a hurry. I thought that if they were setting a trap for me, it would be either there or at the entrance of the building. I could always take a different route – with my wings any window would be sufficient for me.
I found one in a small bathroom, but despite my best efforts, the bars didn't even budge. It must have been a full moon because its light shone brightly, yet I couldn't spare a moment to immerse myself in its glory. The time for appreciation would come later, once I had escaped this place. I wondered if there were any useful items to be found here. Aside from the mundane, generic bathroom equipment, cabinets held a collection of vials containing an indeterminate substance with a putrid scent (and an even more repulsive taste), and a bathtub, enveloped by billowing blue curtains, occupied half of the room.
I intended to move on, but unexpectedly, a sharp scent with an indescribable aroma hit me. The same sharp scent I had first noticed during today's interrogation. Could it be possible? I cautiously reached towards the curtain.
Every thestral of Chiropterra is not only a free citizen but also lives to serve as a vanguard for the Empress. The exercises and trials we face throughout our lives train our minds and bodies. It was thanks to the reflexes I gained through such training that I managed to withdraw my hoof before the saber could reach me. After the first strike came another, this time executed almost blindly, but equally powerful as the first. The thick, blue mist swirling between us made it difficult for me to track his movements, but I knew it was equally hindering his ability to launch attacks. Before I could recover, the third strike came, a thrust aimed straight at me. I quickly stepped back, allowing the blade to meet empty space, but I made a fatal mistake. Focused on the advancing saber, I forgot about the limited width of the room I was in. I only managed to take one step before my flank abruptly collided with the wall.
I let out a sigh as the blade came to a stop precisely on my chest, its tip lost in my fur. The torn curtains wrapped around the entire length of the blade, up to the hilt, abruptly halting the impact. I already had one fresh debt for saving my life to the Ruler of the Night, but if this pace continued, I would simply become insolvent. As he tried to free his saber, I saw him. The same bearded zebra who had previously threatened me with death was now turning his words into action. Should I fight him? The weapon could come in handy, especially in the face of such surprises. Although I could dismiss the theory of calculated ambushes set up for me, ironically, I wasn't far from the truth. I made a decision - in order to move forward, I dramatically needed answers. And this guy, whether he liked it or not, had to provide them to me.
The corridor was less claustrophobic, but I still didn't feel comfortable in it. I fluttered my wings. As long as there was a ceiling, aerial acrobatics were out of the question. Nevertheless, I could use them as additional propulsion during a jump or as an emergency brake. I had to handle this in a classic way. When the zebra with a saber in its mouth lunged towards me, seething with hatred, I was ready. Head low, fur bristling, hooves in position - it was time to begin.
Before he could execute his strike, I leaped towards him, gaining momentum with my wings. No matter how skilled a fencer he was, to change the direction of his attack so dramatically, he would have to turn his entire body. I landed just behind him, and propping myself up on my front hooves, I put all my strength into a powerful kick. However, I played too ambitiously, as I aimed for his muzzle instead of his flank, initially planning to disarm him. The grandiose figure gracefully evaded the blow, while simultaneously aiming a kick with his left leg towards my exposed belly. I had no way to dodge it, and all I could do was brace myself for the impending impact.
What is it like to be kicked by a zebra? I wouldn't wish that experience on my worst enemy. The air escaped from my lungs, and my body was rocked by excruciating pain. Fortunately, I managed to avoid the follow-up slash, which thankfully missed its mark this time. To increase the distance between us and catch my breath, I shuffled back towards the opposite wall, but Bigwig had other plans. As soon as I stopped, his thrust narrowly missed my face, slicing through a portion of my mane and embedding deeply into the plastered wall. Terrifying strength! It was a hair's breadth away from ending the fight with that daring attack, most likely decapitating me in the process. The blade was so close that I could see my reflection in it.
But this time, I didn't miss. With him directly in front of me, I grabbed him by the beard with one front hoof and delivered a strike with the other. Upon the first impact, he released the hilt from his mouth, and his silver diadem visibly bent inward. But it wasn't a moment for contemplation. I could either win, which gave both of us a chance at survival, or lose and face certain death. That's why I struck him again. And again. When I finally let go of him, he collapsed to the floor moaning.
"So, now that our stupid dispute seems to be settled, I'd like to have a talk with you," I said, but he didn't respond. He probably needed a moment to recover. My heart was pounding like a hammer, and despite the recent blow, my body felt light. I checked the spot where I had been kicked. The adrenaline would still sustain me for a while, but I shouldn't linger. I was certain that if our conversation dragged on, I would soon find myself writhing on the floor just like him. As he quieted down, I began with the simplest question. What’s going on here?
"Your brethren... Slavers… they attacked us…" Emotions shook me, although I couldn't quite identify them. On one hand, I was relieved because my fellow worshippers ensured a safe return. I looked sadly at the zebra. On the other hand, they didn't come here just to say hello. As I grappled with moral dilemmas, he approached me and, beneath the blood trickling down his white coat, looked me straight in the eyes.
"If you truly are not one of them... Prove it to me... Save me," he laid himself before me and swept aside his mane, exposing his neck. "Or end it here and now."
"Why should I do that?" I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Of course, I deliberately omitted the threat of being burned alive and the failed assassination attempt. "I ended up here by mistake. I have nothing to do with what's happening downstairs." He didn't react. Ugh, here I was again, faced with a difficult decision. I could take him with me. If he's some kind of prince or important figure, he would likely be worth more than common rebels or smugglers. On the other hand...
"Do you have someone waiting for you?"
It took a moment, so I thought he wouldn't react, but he nodded gently. Damn it.
Get yourself together!
And remember who you are.
"As long as you lie here, I make no promises." He humbly allowed me to assist him, so I led him back to the hiding spot behind the swaying curtain, now unfortunately dragging along the floor. Whatever happens next, in his current state, he would only be a hindrance to me. Unless his resilience matches his kick, then he'll be back on his hooves in no time!
Before leaving him for good, I addressed him one last time.
"What was your name again?"
"Alizamalbar… Zalnit."
And then it was just me and the staircase. I was free, but only for a brief moment. Regardless of awaited me downstairs. I had provoked this whole adventure to clear my name, to become a hero, but so far, I had only distanced myself from that goal. And still I had nothing to redeem myself. Nothing of course, unless...
He must have been waiting for me because when I finally approached, he silently emerged from the shadows. First, I noticed the barrel of a submachine gun, and only later the thestral holding it. "Good to see a familiar face in a foreign land." At first, I didn't know if my joke improved the atmosphere, but it certainly helped me a bit. I felt a spontaneous smile creep onto my face, when he chuckled softly.
"You have no idea," he replied, then called out loudly, "top clear! Move to the next objective. I will join you later."
They were indeed my allies. The batpony stood beside me, surveying the area. "I always knew you had an unhealthy knack for trouble, but tell me, how did you even end up here?" His voice was deep, slightly raspy, but without an accent. And above all, strangely familiar.
Wait, wasn’t he... "Poisoned Chalice?! Is that you?"
"Nothing gets past you," he smirked. He pulled out two cigarettes from his pocket. He took one for himself and offered me the other, but I declined. Strangely, I wasn't in the mood for smoking. "Will you show me around?" he asked unexpectedly, and I nodded. Instead of heading towards the exit, we ventured deeper into the corridor. Whatever his intention was, I decided to use this time to ask some important questions.
As we passed by the sword protruding from the wall, he whistled in admiration, but I simply shrugged my hooves. Those zebras, right? Who knows what happened here.
"It's true, I never bragged about my profession. You don't talk about these things over a beer." He took a drag from his lit cigarette and added, "Tell me, is there anyone else here? Any other prisoners? Someone I should know about?"
I denied it.
He fell silent for a moment, then silently pointed with his hoof to the empty interrogation room next to where we stood. Before I could ask him what he was up to, he approached and whispered, "Listen, there's a delicate matter concerning you. It's confidential."
In any other situation, I would hesitate to refuse him, but I realized an incredibly important detail that had escaped my attention until now. No matter what he said or how close or far he was, Chalice had me in his sights the whole time.
Once I stepped inside, he paused at the door and flicked his cigarette to the ground.
"We didn't come here just for a cargo. Gloam, we've been searching for you for a month. You know, things have changed drastically recently. The Council is mobilizing. They're preparing something big. They've stopped turning a blind eye. Bribery, smuggling, and arms trade no longer pay off. I'm afraid they want to harm you."
"This must be some huge mistake," I nervously replied. I expected repercussions because I thought I had taken one trade too many. But I had nothing to do with smuggling or arms trade. And if I didn't, then who did? "It's true that I have my fair share of secrets, but I haven't done anything dangerous. Thank you for warning me, but... I think I still want to go back. Maybe I can explain somehow. We could testify together..."
"Oh no, I can't allow that.” His voice was chillingly colorless, icy. Determined. “Once they get their hooves on you, you'll crack. Sooner or later. Once they've extracted everything they want from you, they'll turn their attention to others. They'll come after me. Unless, of course, you have another clever plan to evade responsibility." I had nothing in response, Nothing to rely on, nothing to leverage.
"You surprised me with your escape. When those idiots couldn't finish you off, I got really scared. It's nothing personal, you understand, I'm just protecting my own skin. It's a shame you put up resistance during the arrest. I had no choice but to shoot you."
I felt violently shaken. What was more, I felt the adrenaline starting to fade away, making room for pain and fear. The world hadn't given up on trying to take my life, and this time it had me in its grip. Apparently the only way out led through the barrel of a gun. I sighed and straightened my posture. This time It was really my end.
"Are you trying to play the hero now?" he sneered, seeing my stance.
"For the first time in my life, no," I said and closed my eyes. Let it be what will be. I had spent my whole life running away from problems, ignoring the violence around me. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I had also taken advantage of it, resorting to violence when necessary. I think if the Empress were to return to earth, she wouldn't be pleased with what we had prepared for her.
I understood my mistake.
This one time, I will take responsibility, even if it means accepting death.
BLAM!
...
The scent of gunpowder filled the room. He... He missed? I slowly opened my eyes but couldn't believe what I saw. Poisoned Chalice lay unconscious on the floor, and standing over him was the descendant of the Alizamalbar lineage.
"Where are the others?"
"Is he dead?" I asked, still stunned. The whole world began to spin before my eyes. "Somewhere else, we should be safe for a while. I think."
"He is alive, but he will regret it as soon as we get to him," he replied with hatred. "I owe you an apology. You spared me. You didn't deliver me into their hands. By saving my life, you have done a great service to the kingdom. Whoever you truly are..."
I heard nothing more. I fainted
... ... ...
It is not easy to be a hero.
Unfortunately, it comes with constant sacrifices. The need to make difficult decisions, to change and mature continuously. However, it also had its good sides. Zalnit turned out to be a surprisingly great creature. In a short time after those challenging events that somehow brought us together, we truly became friends. Unfortunately, as a thestral, I wasn't welcome in Warzena. But I didn't hold it against them – too much blood had been shed for their attitude towards me to change in a week. Only my new friend was ready to forget everything, wanting to repay me for my deeds.
As I mentioned, I learned a lot. As I bid farewell to descendant of the Alizamalbar lineage, I confided in him about my thoughts. On that day, it wasn't a clever plan, bravery, or intrigue that saved me, saved us. It was magic. He claimed it was friendship, but I still didn't understand what he meant. However, I understood the fundamental mistake I had been making and decided never to repeat it again.
Looking with resentment at the receding shore, I felt that my past was no longer a part of me. Almost with tears in my eyes, I raised a cold drink to my lips. The fortune he had granted me gave me a chance to leave Chiropterra forever. Beside that It wouldn’t last long. Perhaps a few months, if I managed it sensibly.
"Where are we heading, Lady Dusk?" the captain asked humbly, signaling to a sailor to fetch another bottle. Reality hit me once again, not letting me forget about the fate of a hero even for a moment. Always these difficult decisions! Hm, by the way, if I sell the ship, maybe I can stretch it out for even a year.
"I have never been to New Mareland," I replied, adjusting my sunglasses and letting out a long yawn, stretching on the sun lounger. Well, maybe it will at least be enough for a vacation.
