Fury of the Storm

My mind was an erupting volcano of vitriol and anger. Dozens of curses and wishes for pain and death upon that bastard Zabraxas ricocheted around inside of me, pleading with me to be given a voice. It took so, so much of my willpower to not give in to those desires, in no small part thanks to the ever-present energy sword of his Gift, still laid across my back. As much as I hate the situation I find myself pulled into, and the one who pulled me into it even more, my will to survive prevails. Even if only by a thread.

And so it is that I bite my tongue and let the guards lead me and the four other chosen zebras out of the prison and towards a small yet heavily guarded encampment, a good five minute’s trot away. The ones guarding it were, of course, the two Princes’ honourguards. Despite numbering no more than two dozen, these guards were hoof-picked for their skills and extreme loyalty, bordering on the kind of fanaticism I only ever see in Zhaaneph clergystallions. Or, well, most Zhaanephi faithful, for that matter.

While me and the other chosen zebras are herded towards a waiting pair of honourguards at the camp, I take a moment to look over those other unfortunates I’ll be forced to spend time around. Absolutely none of them were noteworthy, not even the one mare that had been dragged along. In fact, I look to be the only hybrid in the group. Two of the stallions, one plains and the other imperial, were having a hard time keeping their eyes off of the plains mare, who looked to be quietly enjoying the influx of male attention. The third stallion was a mountain zebra, and he was having a hard time keeping his eyes off of me. That had better not become a problem. This is far from the time or place.

In any case, the guards hoof me and the others off to the honourguards, and I can see that the normal Imperial Guards are visibly nervous about dealing with them, retreating at a speedy walking pace once they were sure we were in good hooves. Indeed, with their gold-banded steel scale mail armour and painstakingly crafted, finely striped, and wickedly sharp crucible steel weaponry, both infused in enough mountain alchemy to flood a small village, it was easy to see why they would be so intimidating to treat with.

Having fled from the Princes they’ve been entrusted with on more than one occasion, I find them much less intimidating than they do. Though I’m sure the other four chosen zebras were quite frightened of them as well.

“On behalf of our sovereigns,” the first one opens,
“We welcome you to our encampment,” the second one continues.

Oh gods, are they really going to do this double speaking routine?

“Your Princes will return shortly,”
“To address, appraise, and equip you.”
“But until they do,”
“You are to follow our instructions.”

Yes, apparently, they are. As if I didn’t have enough annoyances to deal with.

“We will start with your living spaces.”
“You will all be responsible for them.”
“Maintaining them,”
“Cleaning them,”
“Packing them,”
“And transporting them.”

They lead me and the others to said living spaces: five separate tents for me and the others. They were compact, easily packed things, placed in the encampment such that they would be easily observed from most of the other portable structures. I am genuinely surprised that they weren’t just cramming me and the others into a single large tent. After all, that is what he normally does on these accursed ‘reformation tours’.

Before I can continue that caravan of thought, the guards then take me and the others to the large, central campfire. Only, it was a ring of stones with absolutely no wood or other flammable material inside: just the red flames of Zakurai’s Gift. I hadn’t even realized it was his fire until just now, and just like that, I’m immediately back on edge. And right as I was starting to put Zabraxas’s blade on my back out of my mind.

Me and the others are made to sit around the fire, waiting until they come back. I hate to admit it, but Zakurai’s flames were... very comfortable to be around. Looking to one side, I see the mare of the group making puppy eyes at the two stallions, and like thirsty animals, they cozy up to her, sating her need for male attention with a happy little sigh while said males looked about ready to fight somezebra if it meant getting even a whiff of her marely assets. Pathetic, really, how sex can so easily control some zebras. Sure, it’s good. Downright lovely, even. But it’s not that good. And my exploitation of that same weakness in other zebras does not alter my observation.

She starts making the same face at me, but I think she’s socially aware enough to see that I’m far out of her league. Unfortunately, she adopts an entitled little scowl at the unamused look I replied to her with, and with that, I can already tell she’ll be a problem. As if I didn’t have enough problems to deal with.

“S-so, uhm...”

Ah, right. The other stallion. His voice is slightly higher pitched than normal, and was noticeably flustered and nervous. He sits rather close to me, away from the mare and her little entourage, but my only response is a flick of one ear as I turn to look into the fire.

“Q-quite the uh, t-turn of events, huh?”

I move one eye to look him over. A normal size for mountain zebras, which was fairly small compared to myself. He rubs the back of his head and averts his eyes with a nervous laugh when my eye makes contact with his. Cute. Satisfied with my appraisal, I shut both my eyes and take a breath, opting to take advantage of the fire before me as a means to calm and centre myself.

“H-heh, yeah, r-right.” He was nervous about more than being chosen by Zabraxas, and it’s fairly obvious I’m the reason for it. “Whoo. Ah, m-my name’s Zelac, by the way.” I don’t remember asking. “Uh, what’s yours?”

“You’ll find out,” I replied.

“Oh!” Seems hearing my voice is very pleasing to him. “Ooh. Uhm. I, I will?”

“Once, ugh, our majesties,”—I can feel the bile rising in my throat as I utter those words—“Return with our records.”

“R-r-records?”

“Criminal records. To read out loud to everyzebra.”

“Wh-w-whaaat?” There, now he’s appropriately frightened of the reality of our situation. “He’s going to—? Oh no. I-I-I can’t—”

“It gets worse.”

“Buh?”

“So if I were you, I’d spend a lot less time getting comfortable. And a lot more bracing yourself.”

Mercifully, he falls silent, but shuffles a little closer, perhaps for protection. So long as he stays silent, I don’t care what he does. I, meanwhile, shut my eyes and attempt to concentrate, pondering how I’m going to navigate this horrific mess I’m in.

Escape is basically impossible given the honourguards, nevermind the damned Princes themselves. If by some small miracle I survive this entire ordeal, I’m basically guaranteed to not get a commuted sentence, given the length of my rap sheet. I knew damn well how this was going to work: me and Cinder, on two different occasions, went out of our way to help a couple of runaway chosen escape their very literal bonds. They were happy not only to tell me all they could about how he treated them, but what I’d be in for should I ever have the misfortune of being singled out by him myself.

To think I’d actually be using that information as a survival guide now, and not just as a story to scare the shit out of other criminals.

But that’s not the only problem here. Though it likely wasn’t his place to meddle in his fellow Prince’s affairs, Zakurai was a complete wildcard here as well. And sleep was going to be a major issue for me. Hiding from them in my dreams was hard enough already, and those were just one-offs! Now I’m to hide myself for possibly weeks on end?!

Gods, if I stay here, I’m going to die. Asleep or awake, they’ll figure me out. There’s no scenario I can think of where I come out of this with my life. There’s nothing for it: I need to get out of here somehow. I need to start looking for an escape immediately, before too many days pass. But right now, all I can do is await the induction ceremony and examine my surroundings for any openings once I have the chance. Anything else is liable to get me killed right away.

Already, my hoof starts tracing around my neck. Gods, I don’t know how I’ll control myself during that part of the ceremony.

The guards begin speaking up some time later.

“Your sovereigns are returning,”
“So form an orderly line,”
“And prepare to kneel in supplication,”
“When they arrive to address, appraise, and equip you all.”

Yes. Equip. Briefly, I ponder my chances of murdering Zabraxas in his sleep.

Me and the others quickly stand back up and form ourselves into that line. Already, I can see figures approaching from the prison. My lip starts to tremble when I identify the figures as the Princes and some honourguards. By that point, we’re ordered to kneel again. And again, my eyes do not move from the two royal bastards. Zabraxas remained utterly stone-faced as he approached, and I could tell that Zakurai was still hiding his frustration.

As they come to a stop before us, I see one honourguard with him carrying five scrolls on his back: the criminal records. One of the scrolls was significantly longer than the others. Another honourguard joins them from a nearby tent with a small wooden crate on his back. I try so hard to not react to it, knowing what was likely going to be in it.

“Convicts,” Zabraxas opens, his tone and gaze surprisingly devoid of disdain. “Your lives as you knew them before have come to an end. Now, your penance to the Empire begins today, and with it, your first steps on the path of redemption.”

Oh gods. Is he going to speak only in platitudes?

“But all paths to the light must begin with honesty. Honesty with others, and honesty with yourselves.”

With a gesture of his head, the honourguard passes him a scroll. He unfurls it and begins reading it’s contents for a brief moment. He speaks a zebra’s name aloud, and commands them to step forward. The plains stallion does just that, and he then begins to read aloud a short description of their life, followed by a list of their crimes.

He does this for several minutes, dismissing the zebra once he is finished and calling forth another. Apparently that plains stallion was guilty of punching a few stallions, as well as getting too friendly with some mares. The imperial was a common thug who worked for a crime family, and had plenty of assaults to his name, whatever that was—I’ve already forgotten. The mare was a common, status chasing tail lifter, and she turned bright red at hearing her many adulterous crimes read aloud, her head hung in shame. The mountain stallion was also guilty of adultery, but with another stallion, and was similarly embarrassed. Although he had only one charge with the maximum sentence possible. So he must have bedded somezebra with money or power, and gotten on his bad side.

And then it was my turn. Keeping my composure as he stood directly in front of me was a test on my limits all unto itself. And there was something uniquely infuriating about this imperious son of a whore reading my terse and horribly inaccurate life story aloud, as if he knew all there was to know about me from this descriptor.

Yet read he did, from the longest scroll of them all. My earliest years known to zebrakind, when I was left at an orphanage at only a few years old. My knack for crime at an early age, and my independent pursuit of it, all throughout my teenage years and well into adulthood, culminating in my time spent on Farasi. In any other circumstance, the amount of bad and missing information in there could be a comedy unto itself. But this was the diametric opposite of a comedic circumstance.

Next came my crime list, the only halfway accurate thing about me. Halfway, because it doesn’t account for what I had done on the Zhaaneph-ruled side of Zebrica. He reads every single charge without so much as an iota of surprise or pause, and it takes him several minutes to go down the list. Off to the side, I see Zakurai’s brows raise as the list continues, as if he were somewhat impressed by all the things I had done. I suppose that my criminal record was impressive to behold, in a twisted sort of way.

When he finally finished and sent me back to the line-up, the other zebras were now looking on at me with wide eyes and surprise, some of them even envy. I couldn’t care less about what they think. I was far more focused on the box-carrying zebra, who was just motioned to approach Zabraxas next.

“Before now, you have known captivity within the walls of your prison. But on this journey, you shall carry your prisons with you.”

The honourguard set the box down and opened it. The swords on our backs lifted off, surprising the others but not me. I couldn’t help the flattening of my ears as one by one, they dipped into the crate, lifting out two halves of a metal collar by the flat of the blade.

“Make no mistake, convicts. Though you are now beyond the walls of your prison, you are not yet free. These, the bonds of the chosen, shall serve as your new cells. Only I may place them. Only I may remove them. And for as long as you wear them, zebras across the land will know you as you are: convicts. Should you think to escape, know that there is no way to remove the bond. No way, save for I. All who see you with the bond will know you as a convict, and will bring you to justice. There is no escaping from your penance.”

Already my teeth were grinding as the swords began flying back towards us, making ready to collar us all. They looked like solid silver, but were in fact pure iridium, and were indeed indestructible to most sources of damage. But he was wrong about one thing: he wasn’t the only one who could remove these accursed things.

“Kneel,” he orders.

Me and the others, of course, do as we’re told. The hairs on my coat stand on end as I feel the cool metal halves slide off the blade and onto my neck, the swords floating at the ready to seal them in. The bastard Prince himself approaches, starting with the mountain zebra off to my side. He takes both halves of the collar in his hooves, clasps them together around the zebra’s neck, and the blade melts the seams together in a matter of seconds, one after the other. All the while, Zabraxas looked him dead in the eye, never blinking.

Credit where it’s due, that mountain stallion gets through the entire collaring process before fainting on the spot. That’s better than most zebras.

Unfortunately, I’m next. But I’ve no intention of fainting.

Unlike the other zebra, I don’t avert my eyes for even a second. Indeed, I focus on his eyes instead. His face was as neutral as ever as he sealed the collar around my neck, but his eyes, as expected, told a different story. I could see, above all else, the kind of moral self-righteousness that only jilted mares and Zhaanephi faithful were capable of, expressed with perfect seriousness. Oh, it brought me to new heights of anger, held back once again by that ever-present will to survive. But I could also see a growing irritation the longer he looked back. Perhaps he is not accustomed to anyzebra looking back at him like this?

I’ll take it. If I can throw even a sliver of this humiliation back into his face without consequence, I will.

Finally, after a few more moments of what I swear was him dragging the sealing process out for longer, he finishes with me and steps away, moving on to the next zebra. The completed metal ring around my neck still held uncomfortable warmth from his blade’s power, but I save touching the accursed thing for another time: a time when I can get some damned privacy.

The other zebras don’t handle the procedure nearly as well as I do, which was understandable. The two stallions stay conscious, but looked like they were about ready to shit themselves. The mare, entitled as she was, tried to throw a fit in an effort to refuse the collaring, only to be marehandled by two honourguards, pinned to the ground, and forced to wear it regardless, as I expected. While all that happened, another honourguard roused the mountain stallion and helped him back up, the zebra visibly shaken by the ordeal. And as Zabraxas returns to his place beside Zakurai, I could see the latter prince look on at the entire scene with well-disguised disdain. A brief flick of his eyes to his cohort and the slight curl of his upper lip revealed his fellow Prince as the root of that disdain.

“Serve us peaceably,” Zabraxas concludes, “And you will earn your freedom.”

All of a sudden, I felt a slight prickling sensation on the back of my neck and heard some very mild tinnitus. I thought it was a symptom of my boiling anger, until I saw the slightest glow to Zakurai’s irises as he looked on at Zabraxas. For his part, he only briefly flicked his eyes back towards the other Prince as his own irises lit up with the same minuscule glow, doubling the still-tiny sensations for a moment.

“Pack your accommodations immediately, chosen, and assemble around the fire once you have. Time is of the essence for our quest.”

Quest? Oh gods, I don’t like the sound of that one bit. Nevertheless, me and the other zebras do as we’re told, returning to the tents. The portable tent is very standard military fare, so it’s quite easy to pack it. The same could not be said for the others, particularly the mare and her little group, not helped by her foul attitude and a refusal to do manual work that only lasted until an honourguard barked at her to do as she was told. The mountain stallion spent his time looking over at me as I packed, attempting to replicate my method for himself, failing, and sheepishly asking an honourguard for instruction, but not help, which they provided.

Regardless, I was the first one back at the campfire. Around me, the honourguards were busying themselves with packing the rest of the camp up, too. And from the Princes’ positioning, it looked to be Zakurai’s turn to speak now. Still, what was that glow to their eyes about? Or the sensation that followed, for that matter? Questions for another time. In any case, he begins once everyzebra is in attendance.

“I’ll get straight to the point then, as we don’t have time to waste.” His voice was smooth and attractive, warm and inviting, and surprisingly devoid of upper-class mannerisms. “Myself and Prince Zabraxas have a mission of great import to carry out, and our first stop on this grand journey is the port of Nanga to arrange for our mode of transport. As this is a time-sensitive endeavour, however, we’ll need to rush things along to make it there in time. Though I don’t expect we will take more than a week to reach the port.”

“We leave at once,” Zabraxas interjected, looking over my group as he spoke next. “It will reflect poorly on you if you fail to keep pace.”

Oh, I’ll keep pace all right, you bastard. It’ll take more than this to break me.

Though Zakurai was annoyed at Zabraxas’s interruption, the entire party nevertheless did indeed set out right away. Zakurai took a moment to reach his hoof out to the fire and absorb the flames into his foreleg in a stream of power, but that was all the packing he had to do.

So, Nanga? We’re to take a ship somewhere, then. And of course, everything else was strictly need-to-know, with me and the other unfortunates very much not needing to know. Can’t say I expected anything else.

We move at a brisk trot all throughout the day with no rest, not even for water; another honourguard carried the water supply on a cart, and had us drink as we moved. For me, this was nothing: I’ve covered more ground at faster speeds before. Not unexpectedly, the mare once again whined, complained, and slowed down, only to be yelled at by another guard to keep moving. The mountain stallion wasn’t doing well either, but was pushing himself to keep going, and made much more reasonable requests for more water, which were obliged. It was fairly obvious he was trying to catch my eye by trying to act tough. I remained unresponsive.

Only when night fell did we stop and set up camp. Me and the plains stallion were the only ones not winded and panting once we stopped, and the mare was on the verge of a breakdown. We ate military rations, but I didn’t expect Zakurai to go out of his way to cook the bland things into something that was surprisingly good. I hadn’t taken him for a chef.

Finally, once I’m left to my own devices in my tent, I start properly touching the damned collar for the first time. Zabraxas had done a good job making the thing seamless, and sure enough, the iridium did not even flex when I squeezed it together with all my might. My feelings on it were slightly more complicated than a blanket hate for what it was and what it represented, because I knew the secret to taking it off. All that I needed to do was match the heat Zabraxas used to seal it together. Which dragonfire could do.

I miss Cinder.

I bury my head in the small pillow. The quiet sigh that leaves me is more morose this time. My goal hadn’t changed: I was going to get her out of the Black Gulch. I just didn’t know if I could survive the Princes first.

I dread sleep for the first time, but it claims me all the same.

Days later...

Once again, I jolt awake from my intense dreaming. My coat was damp with sweat, and my body trembled from the tail end of an adrenaline rush. Groaning, I cover my head with my forelegs as I slump back to the ground, my exhaustion now so heavy that I could feel it causing physical effects.

I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Every time I sleep at night, whether it’s a willing attempt or because my body is forcing me to rest, both Princes’ suns were there. All my mental energy is devoted to escaping their sight, energy I should be recovering with sleep. With us moving constantly, I can’t even take short naps to stave off exhaustion’s toll on me, and the effects were hitting me with full force. My body and mind screamed for proper rest, but they denied it at every turn, simply by virtue of existing near me.

This was torture. Pure, unmitigated torture. And I know the others can see how worn down I am. I’m a good liar and a good actor, but even I’m not that good.

The guards’ hoofsteps are audible outside the tent. They tell me and the others to wake up and pack again. I do as I’m told. Packing the tent up is far harder than it should be, but it’s just so difficult to focus, to coordinate. The morning brings with it the usual sermon on goodness and righteousness by Zabraxas. Even my anger is muted, the burning hate asphyxiated, the fears smothered. All I truly feel is overwhelming, leaden exhaustion, and the total apathy it brings with it.

Things pass in a blur as we get moving, continuing the trek to Nanga.

Sleep. Please, just let me sleep.

My gait has become uneven and shaky. I can feel my entire body going on strike, refusing it’s horrendous working conditions. I don’t even know when or how I found myself collapsed face-down in the arid dirt. I think there’s shuffling around me, maybe some voices? I can’t even tell what’s going on anymore. Basic perception is now beyond me.

Please. I need to sleep. Please.

I can taste something. A drink of some kind. Bitter and gritty. My body relaxes, but not due to my own actions. I barely register this as the effects of a potion of some kind. That’s all I can register before the void takes me.

Murky waters. Ears full. Breathing liquid. Barely moving. Tiny lights. Far away. Should fear. Can’t fear. Can’t move. Can’t think. Feel cold. Tiny warmth. Deep inside. Feels nice. Remember feeling. Feels strange. Feels weak. Feels contained. No light. No yellow. Can’t leave. Trapped inside. Feel relief? See lights. One blue. One red. Body sinking. Deeper below. Lights dimmer. Lights further. Lights gone. Feel relief? Feel relief. Feel nice. Feel good.

Sleep good.

“Mnrgh...”

Even through my eyelids, I see bright light, steadily dimming to a deep orange-red as my eyes adjust. Cracking them open slightly forces me to squint and adjust even more. But I can see the midday sun of Zebrica directly above me at it’s apex.

I feel... strange. Good. Rested. But why would I be rested? I can barely recall the black, sticky memory of my dream, no matter how hard I try. But I wasn’t caught. That much I know for certain.

Wait. I can feel myself moving, despite lying down. The surface is flat, and I feel bumps and jostles every now and then. Am I on a cart?

With a small groan, I make to pull myself up, clutching my forehead as I sit upright. I still have a headache. What little rest I got was insufficient to offset the days of torturous sleep deprivation. I needed more, but knew I couldn’t get more right now. As I sit up, I hear a small gasp and feel the wooden cart stop. I turn my head to see who’s pulling it, finding a mountain stallion unstrapping himself from the cart. I also see the rest of the group ahead.

“Lay back down,” the stallion urgently whispers. “Lay back down!”

“What...?” I groan.

“Just do it!”

Confused, I do just that, but ready myself to bolt at a moment’s notice. The stallion comes around to the rear of the cart, bringing him into full view.

“Oh thank goodness you’re okay,” he exhales. “Y-you are okay, right?”

“What happened?”

“You collapsed this morning. You hadn’t been sleeping well since our majesties took us with them, a-and you just kind of, well, hit your limit.”

Wait, I recognize this stallion. He’s one of the other chosen, the one that wouldn’t stop looking at me. What was his name again? I don’t remember.

His sympathetic eyes shoot upwards in alarm for a moment before he looks back down at me, his look now apologetic. “I have to keep moving, sorry.” He trots back around to the front of the cart, where I hear him strap back in. His voice becomes more hushed. “You can keep talking, just... keep it quiet, okay?”

“Why?” I question, becoming increasingly suspicious.

“You just seem really private, is all. I-I thought you’d like some more time alone. You know, to rest?”

I don’t trust that reason at all. But his tone seems sincere enough, if noticeably nervous. For the moment, I go along with it. But I keep my ear open for any signs of deception.

“Fine.” I shuffle a little, trying to readopt the pose I woke up in as the cart resumes moving. “What happened after I collapsed?”

“W-well, you were still awake, but really delirious. Were you forcing yourself to stay awake?”

Not exactly.

“What happened?” I press.

“Oh! S-sorry. Uhm, well, I volunteered to carry you on this cart until you got better. But I didn’t want to just leave you all sleep deprived, so I, uhm, well, may have foraged around a bit and made you a quick and dirty little sleeping tonic when nozebra was looking.”

“A sleeping—? You drugged me?”

“I didn’t know what else to do!” He sounded genuinely distressed. “It was either do some alchemy behind our majesties’ backs, or leave you to suffer!”

I let out a frustrated nicker. Having had one too many bad encounters with alchemists in my long career of crime, I was reflexively distrustful of their concoctions. Yet, whatever he gave me was... legitimately helpful. Which begs the question.

“What did you give me?”

“Uhm, well, d-don’t tell anyzebra, but I may have mixed up some darkdream. This close to the coast, the ingredients are everywhere!”

Darkdream tonic? Hm. That’s an illegal potion, but only in the Empire. The Zhaaneph, on the other hoof, love the stuff, but mostly because the Empire hates it. And if he knows the recipe...

“You’re former Zhaaneph, aren’t you?”

I could feel the cart lurch a bit from his shock.

“Wh-wha-hu-ho-how-did—?!”

“Oh, relax, would you? You’re acting like I’ll rat you out to Zabraxas.”

“No! I-I-I-uhm well, w-would you?”

I snort. “I’m not planning on telling that vile son of a whore anything,” I growl, my hoof dragging along my collar’s surface. “Your little secret’s safe with me.”

“I-uh-whoo,” That relieved exhale of his slowed the cart down for a moment. “Wow. Uh, y-you really called him that, h-huh?”

“I could call him much worse. And in case you were wondering, I’ve been to the other side before.”

“Oh. I-I see.” He sighed a little. “Darkdream was a dead giveaway, huh?”

“Yes.”

From the subtly different way he was pulling the cart, I’d say he was lightening up a bit. “S-so. Uh. Y-you forgive me, right? A-about the whole tonic thing?”

I sigh. “I suppose. It was helpful. So thank you.”

He made a tiny happy noise at the approval. Cute. I have to admit, it’s nice to have, at the very least, a few minutes of reprieve from worrying about the twice-damned Princes. And yet, I can’t help but wonder why darkdream is even illegal. If it was valuable contraband, I would have been selling it for a tidy profit. But it really was just a common sleeping potion, inexplicably made illegal here for whatever reason. Well, since there’s an alchemist here, and an ex-Zhaaneph one at that...

“Explain something to me.”

“Yes! I-I mean, yes?”

“Just why is darkdream illegal here? If I recall, they treat it as harshly as pink salt.”

“Th-they do. But that’s wrong.” He regains some confidence as he slips into speaking about his passion. “It really is a very simple and effective potion. The only side effect is in the name: it just blacks out your dreams. If you’ve got nightmares, that’s a benefit, not a drawback! I’m not really sure why the Princes banned it.”

My ears perk up at his choice of words. “The Princes banned it? Not the administration?”

“Yeah, it-it’s weird. My teacher always said it was just to spite their people. Well, er, he used way less flattering words, but, well, you know.”

“I know,” I echo, well apprised of Zhaaneph rhetoric.

I really don’t remember much of my dream. Come to think of it, I’m not even sure that my sun ever came out. Wait. Wait, wait, wait! Is that why they banned it? Because it can cut them off from their suns? Did they really ban darkdream tonic because somezebra might be able to drug them with it, and cut them off from dreaming between each other?

Gods. That’s perfect.

“Listen. You said it was easy to make more?”

“Do you need more?”

“I would very much prefer more.”

“So you need more.” Now he was starting to sound cocky.

I give out a tired sigh to assuage his ego. “Yes, I need more. Can you make it or not?”

“A-absolutely! I just, er, well...”

“What?” Ah. I know this kind of nervousness.

“Well, I-I’d like to, w-well, keep a closer eye on you. Y-you know, to watch for any side effects? A-and see if you sleep any better? Maybe try to help if it doesn’t work? I-if that’s all right?”

Mm-hmm. There it was.

“If this is about sex, just say so,” I state bluntly.

“What?!” The cart lurches hard at his outburst, and I can hear voices from up ahead asking what was wrong. “N-no, nothing!” he rapidly exclaims back to them, clearly quite flustered. “Just thought I saw a striped viper, is all! H-hahaha. Yes. But there wasn’t one! I’m fine! I’m fine!”

“Smooth,” I deadpan. “Very smooth.”

“D-don’t just say things like that out loud!” He blurts more quietly back at me.

“Mm-hmm,” I allow myself to chortle. “Definitely former Zhaaneph.”

“Oh, Lord. Er, g-gods. Agh, damn it!” I’ll give him one thing: he’s very cute when flustered.

“Curious how you didn’t deny it, though.” Now it was my turn to sound smug. Gods, I never thought I’d feel genuine amusement on this godsforsaken journey.

“We-w-well that’s— I mean, I-I-I just, no, y-you’re just s-so— eek!”

That last exclamation was fearful. And the cart lurched to a sudden stop soon after. He continued stuttering incoherently at something else, but stopped when we heard a sensible chuckle belonging to Zakurai.

Shit. So much for my reprieve.

“Oh, no need to bow,” I hear him say in a lighthearted, almost friendly tone. “I assume your sleeping beauty is doing well?”

I hear his hoofsteps coming closer, and shut my eyes and go slack to appear asleep. Unfortunately, that didn’t work. And he chose to call my bluff by biting my tail and yanking me right off the cart, drawing a brief cry of surprise from me as I scramble to right myself onto the arid dirt.

“Good morning, convict!” he greets with a wide smile and an almost fatherly tone. “Sleep well?”

After a few seconds of glaring at him from a low stance, ready to bolt at any time, he simply chuckles again.

“Really, there’s no need for this tough colt business, son. If you were having trouble sleeping, you should have said something! Some of our guards are talented alchemists, you know!”

It’ll be a cold day in the hell of boiling oil before I ever trust a concoction from a Prince and his toadies.

“Well, since you’re clearly not having issues, you’d best start walking again!” As he turns away, his head stays turned to me, his tone becoming a bit more serious. “Prince Zabraxas is very unhappy with your little stunt as it is.”

With that, he finally takes his leave. All the while, an honourguard took the cart back from that mountain stallion, leaving both of our tent packs on the ground.

It’s official: I hate Zakurai, too.

“Bastard,” I sigh under my breath, throwing my pack over my back again.

“S-sorry,” he mutters, ears pinned back.

“Don’t apologize.”

I take his pack in my teeth and place it on his back next. Just doing that caused his ears to perk back up, along with bringing some colour to his cheeks. I resume walking, and after a moment’s pause, he catches back up, keeping pace very close to my side.

“Back to what we were discussing,” I continue. “You know how to make more darkdream, yes?”

“Oh! Y-yeah. Actually, I uh, was already kind of stocking up on the ingredients as we were walking. You know, hiding them in my pack?”

“Ah. Stocking up for the boat, I assume?”

“Y-yes! Exactly!”

“Well, then.” My voice lowers and my tone turns husky. “I’ll have to think of a way to repay this random act of kindness, won’t I?”

I was no stranger to sleeping with others to get what I wanted, and this wasn’t an exception. As usual, my tactics were very effective on this shy, somewhat repressed stallion, causing his face to turn bright red. His stammering was quite incomprehensible by now, but I knew what he meant by it: he was just too shy and inexperienced to say yes.

“Remind me again what your name was?”

“Zelac,” he squeaked.

“I think you’re right, Zelac.” I breathed his name more than I said it. “I think you should keep a closer eye on me for the night. Doctor’s orders, and all that.”

“Ohmygoshohmygoshisthisreallyhappening?”

“You’ll have to forgive me though. With so many zebras around, I just won’t be able to make you scream the way I want.” My head lowers to his ear and I breathe my next words into it. “So I’ll just have to settle with making you squeal instead.”

A low whine leaves his throat, and it turns into a strangled squeak when I gently bite his ear. His breathing was laboured and his legs were weak and wobbly, forcing him to start leaning against me for support. I give him a few seconds to recover from the sensual assault before continuing.

“I’m going ahead for a bit, just to see how close Nanga is. Be a dear and keep collecting those ingredients while I’m gone?”

“Y-yes, sir,” he weakly whines.

“Mmm, ‘sir’? So formal. I like it.”

As I slowly pick up my pace to get the view I’m after, I drag my tail along his side. As I pull ahead of him, my tail moves along his chest and gently drags upwards along his neck until his snout was buried in my hair. I treat him to a few seconds of that before finally fully flicking it upwards and shifting into a speedy trot, making sure to leave my tail raised just enough for him to get a barely obstructed view.

“SweetElysianLordaboveI’mnotgonnamakeit,” he whimpers.

With my unexpected source of much-needed nighttime relief sorted, I maintain my quicker pace and gradually move past the crowd of zebras obstructing the horizon. There, I see what I was looking for: the faraway coastline, the deep blue waters of the open ocean glimmering slightly from the sun reflecting off the small faraway waves. Squarely in the middle of my view of the coast was the large, sprawling port of Nanga. A thick, paved road led from it and curved slightly to the right as it ran well past my peripheral vision and straight towards the now nearby city of Zebrat: the thick carotid connecting the heart to the mind, with several branching roads off of this main path like smaller veins and arteries.

We’d be at the port by tomorrow at this pace, without a doubt. If I only knew where in the hells we were going. There were tens of dozens of ports all throughout Zebrica that connected to Nanga. We could be going anywhere.

Wherever we’re going, I certainly hope that Zelac zebra has collected enough to last for that long.

I slow my pace and start returning to the rear of the formation, sparing a glance at Zebrat. From our position, it was about as far away as Nanga was, but was far easier to spot from a distance, thanks in no small part to the huge mesa it was built into. The four tall spires of the Quaternary Palace on the top reached towards the skies like dragon claws, surrounded by the much smaller yet still tall buildings that occupied the rest of the mesa’s top, making up the Royal Canton. A huge ramp had been carved into the mesa’s side, gently spiralling up towards the top of the mesa and connecting to Nanga’s road at the base. There was also a large sprawl of urban structures spreading out from that connecting base as well, making up the Lower Canton. And, of course, there were buildings built right into the side of the mesa’s walls along the ramp, making up the Labour Canton.

I’ve never been to Zebrat before. With both the Princes and the Elders there, there was no way in any of the hells that I was going to set one hoof near that place. I suppose it’s a small mercy that we weren’t going there. At least, not yet.

Gods above, we had better not be going to Zebrat. I don’t think I’d survive the dreams, even with the darkdream tonic.

“Hold, everyzebra,” I hear Zakurai announce, coming to a stop and holding his hoof out to punctuate his command.

Oh, no. What now?

The honourguards rush all around to disseminate his order, though everyzebra naturally started regrouping around him and Zabraxas once they saw he had stopped. Meanwhile, said Princes’ irises were glowing lightly again, with the matching prickly tinnitus on my end. I kept my eyes fixed onto the two of them, wary of whatever they had up their frogs. Indeed, I don’t notice that Zelac had found me until he brushed up right next to me.

“H-hey,” he nervously opens. “Er, wh-what’s going on?”

“Shh.”

He stays silent, though nudges a little closer regardless, no doubt noticing my tension.

“Alright everyzebra, prepare yourselves!” I do not like the coy tone that Zakurai is using, nor the amused smile he’s wearing as he addresses everyzebra else. “We’re finished with the land portion of our journey, but we’re far from done!”

A small fireball springs to life in his frog. His eyes glow a bright orange, and I swear I can see his pupils beginning to glow from the inside, as if light was coming from deep within his eyes. And then something does come out of his eyes: twin streams of tightly compressed and nearly blindingly bright flame, focused onto the fireball in his frog. I reflexively step away upon seeing that display of his Gift, and barely notice the other chosen zebras oohing and awing at the display themselves. The eye flames manifest for three seconds, and once they abate, his pupils waft candle-like flame for another second before winking out and leaving them black once again, never once seeming to harm his eyes. As for the fireball itself, it was now properly blinding in it’s brightness. And with a casual toss of his hoof, he throws it up into the air, where it shoots high into the sky and leaves a contrail of red as it flies.

KA-BANG

I damn near jump out of my coat when the ball explodes far above in the air like a firework, complete with the fire nova and sparkling. The others seem a lot more awed by it.

“That’s not the impressive part, fillies and gentlecolts,” Zakurai chuckles. “That will be arriving any moment now.”

My wondering of what in the hells he could possibly mean by that is resolved when I see something from the direction of Nanga moving in my periphery. Something flying. As it comes closer, my stomach damn near drops clean out of my barrel, my ears flattening in abject shock.

It was a gods-damned sky ship.

But it was nothing like the sky ships I saw fleeing over Farasi. This one had the wooden construction I would see on a traditional sea ship, but the massive overhead balloon it bore was, well, aggressively prominent: I could see the shape of a bird’s head front and centre, squarely in the middle of a massive plume of rainbow-coloured sails, clearly evocative of a bird’s plumage.

Oh hells, I might as well invoke the Zhaanephi Lord on top of the gods at this point. This was so orthogonal to what I had expected that it beggared belief. But if this is what Zakurai was expecting to show up here...

I don’t have anything stronger to invoke than the hells, gods, or the Lord to express my fears. Where was he taking us?!

I lack the capacity to even acknowledge Zelac’s frightened questioning. All I can do is stare dumbly at the vessel as it crept closer, both to us and the ground. The actual ship portion was the size of a medium-size merchant vessel, and had a design to match. At the nadir of it’s descent, it hovered just above the ground and turned sideways, and a large cargo door on the bottom opened outwards. Moments later, a chain-hoisted platform like the one at Greenstone was lowered, carrying...

Birds.

Bipedal birds, garbed in pirate gear and armed with matching cutlasses.

Am... am I seeing things right? Was Zelac’s darkdream tonic laced with psychedelics? I just... refuse to believe this is the reality I am faced with.

One of the strange birds on the platform, evidently the ship’s captain, waved down at everyzebra. Only Zakurai waved back, his booming laughter the only thing to pull me away from the utterly unbelievable sight before me. The other chosen zebras were just as dumbstruck as I was. The honourguards weren’t much better. Even Zabraxas looked taken aback.

Zakurai, meanwhile, trotted up towards the foreign captain, who stepped off her platform to meet him in the middle. They shook hooves, smiled, and laughed with one another. And spoke entirely in a language I did not recognize. I can only assume that he is arranging the details of our transportation. After a few minutes of spirited conversation, he returns to the group.

“Now, I know many of you are frightened by all of this, but I assure you that there’s nothing to fear from the good Captain Celaeno and her crew! With her help, we’ll be at our destination in only a week’s time! Far better than a month at sea, I’m sure you’ll agree! Now, form three groups, all of you. You’ll be loaded on board, one group at a time.”

A month at sea? There’s no place in all of Zebrica that doesn’t take more than two weeks to reach by sea. I’ve only ever heard estimates in the months from the raving madmares who talk about the promised land of the Foenum across the sea, but they’re on the exact opposite side of Zebrica from us. What could possibly be out there that would take a month to reach in a ship?

I... this is too much. I’m starting to feel faint. Of course, I just so happen to be in the group that’s loaded onto that sky ship first. Along with Zelac and that mare. Only she actually did faint, and had to be carried by an honourguard.

“This is amazing,” Zelac gushes beside me, stars in his eyes. “I think we’re going to a foreign land!”

I wish I had an eighth of that naïve excitement. All I’m saddled with is the worst sinking feeling I’ve ever had in my entire life.