It all started with a glint out of the corner of my eye.
The air was clean, crisp and sharp, reinvigorated by the harsh storm that had just finished blasting through the mountains just yesterday. It buffeted past my goggles as I reached up and tightened the scarf around my neck, the cold wind biting even through my natural magic. Despite the cold, I was thankful, the calm after the storm made piloting easy, only needing an occasional nudge to the controls to keep my vessel on course.
I should probably start a little back to give context to where I am and why I’m out here in the middle of nowhere.
It started only three years ago when an adventurous group of pegasi had braved the Crystal Mountains far to the north to explore the lands and try to find new creatures to meet. For those of you not familiar with the north, the Crystal Mountains are the highest sharpest peaks in Equestria, even further north than the Crystal Empire. They are marked as the border there not because of another nation contesting the land, but instead because the land is so harsh that journeys through it are considered impossible. It is a frozen wasteland with passes so high that even the hardiest pegasi start to run out of breath.
But as I’m sure you all know, the adventuring spirit is a remarkable thing, and certain ponies are willing to push the boundaries for simply the sake of testing limits and finding the bleeding edge of possibilities themselves. And as such it was only a matter of time until the mountains were challenged.
This group of pegasi had taken it upon themselves to tackle the toughest terrain that Equestria had to offer. They had professed that it was to explore the land and meet the hidden creatures of the world, but I’ve always believed that they did it simply for the thrills, not that I’m much of a pony to criticize, the pot calling the kettle black and all.
But to make a long story short, they trained hard, prepared carefully, equipped themselves with the newest magic items out of Canterlot, and then tackled the mountains.
It took them a long few weeks of freezing temperatures and near deaths as they charted the passes of the mountains, but they were successful, far more than they planned on, for they finally fulfilled their stated mission and found some new creatures, well mostly new, still ponies, but ones that had been separated for so long that the language they spoke was barely recognizable and may as well have been other creatures entirely.
The population up there was rather larger than you might expect given the harsh land, and as such when the news made it back to Canterlot they decided to put some decent effort into reincorporating the land and ponies within.
This is where I come in, a stunningly talented member of the Royal Equestrian Mail Service, the dependable, the stalwart, the ‘never fair to deliver, no matter the place or time’, bla bla bla, you get the picture. The important bit is that this was a new situation for the REMS, a new land and ponies that couldn't be served by train or pegasus courier. I happened be working in the main headquarters in Canterlot when this whole puzzle was being worked on, and to make an embarrassing story less so, I was young, fearless, and overly fascinated with airships, and as such I soon found myself as the primary courier for the new northern territories, tasked with piloting a small airship to bridge the gap of communications to the far north.
Now this was not an easy task I had gotten myself into, as the storms only abated every few weeks or months and just for a few days at most, giving rather few times that the sky was even safe enough to navigate by wing, let alone an airship. And as such most of my time was spent in the Crystal Empire, scouring the sky with a rather large telescope looking for clear paths across the mountains. When the clear skies finally presented themselves, it was a rather hectic scramble to load the mail and get the ship into the air, as no pony, especially myself, wanted to get stuck on the other side of the mountains when the weather turned nasty again. Nothing against the northerners, but airships were my calling not languages, and I don't want to be stuck for months with ponies I can barely talk to, a mare needs her gossip you know.
That reminds me, I should probably introduce myself, Blossom Hardtack pegasus pony, proud member of the REMS, and masterful airship pilot, if I do say so myself. Now you might be wondering how a pegasus like me with an earth pony name like that ended up with a passion for airships and mail delivery, well let's just say some late fillyhood rebellion, some not so smart travel, and some wonderful mailmares, led me to the mail delivery, and a rather eccentric earth pony neighbor led to the airships.
Anyways, back to where I am now. It was very early today when the sky cleared, just a few hours before dawn, and it was only by chance that one of the assistants caught it and woke me up to start the departure. We got the mail loaded in the hold and strapped down, provisions loaded, and then with a wave and a call of thanks to the ground crew, I activated the skystone, raised the sails, and was off towards the mountains.
Now as an airship pilot, I can go a fair bit higher than the pegasi who went before me, simply because it takes far less energy to manage the controls and rigging of an airship than to power through the mountain pass winds, and as such, the thin air doesn't bother me much. With this extra height afforded to me, I can bypass all but the three highest peaks. But I still had to keep a cautious path as the updrafts off the peaks and cliffs can rise hundreds of lengths farther than you would think and can take an airship from the skies in a heartbeat.
Today's path was a fair bit further east than normal, half of it was trying to find any alternate paths through the peaks, with the other being that the tail end of last night's storm had slowed way down as it headed west, and I wanted to give it as much space as possible.
So this is where you find me, keeping my eyes peeled and feathers aware as hoof and wings adjust the lines and controls, not needing more than a nudge now and again to counter a buffet of wind. In my opinion this path was turning out wonderfully, the storm's recent passage and some good old fashioned luck, had led this to be one of the smoothest flights in a long time. This calmness has led to me being free to watch the sights flow by underneath and that's what led me to see it.
It was nothing more than a glint of light out of the corner of my eye, now this alone wouldn't normally catch my eye, the mountains were full of snow and ice after all, with reflections aplenty, but what really snagged my attention was the color. Instead of the normal whites and yellows of reflected sunlight, I saw a flash of blue, almost sapphire in color and brilliance.
This immediately brought me out of the relaxing calm of today's flight, as light like that could only mean one thing, ponies. And I knew there was not supposed to be anypony out in this part of the mountains, not this far east. The northerners had traded maps with us, with theirs having rough location of passes and ponies living out in the remotest areas, and this area had none of that, nowhere in or out by land, and nothing marked for residents. So this meant that somepony was probably lost out here, and luckily I was here to do something about it.
I lifted the miniature telescope from around my neck and squinted in the direction hoping to get another flicker of sapphire, and lucked out, spotting the slightest hint of sapphire on the edge of one of the cliffs due east of me.
I dropped the telescope back around my neck, and started bringing the ship around to starboard, pulling lines and adjusting sails to help the rudder rotate her through the air. As I did so I cursed under my breath, normally I appreciated having an older ship, one with sails and a sky stone instead of the new magi-tech engines and propellers, the rugged simplicity and reliability was essential out here in the mountains, but today wasn't one of those. The flight being due east ment that with the direction the storm had passed the night before, the winds were from directly that way as well, and I knew that the next while was going to be pretty tricky as I tacked upwind through the peaks. But hard wasn't going to stop me today, not when somepony was lost out here.
As I finished bringing her around up to be nicely close hauled on the starboard tack, I started taking in the large billowing genoa sails that I had been using to make good time on the reach across the mountains and then tightened up the jibs as I tried to hug the wind as close as I could to hopefully cut a more direct path to the glint.
With the rigging set, I settled back on the controls with a quick huff, the wheel and levers now jolting and shuddering under the increased load of the upwind tack. With the urgent tasks done, I paused for a moment to really think about what I just saw.
Honestly, I’m not sure what I saw, no pony traveling would have anything that brightly colored, let alone that shiny. The only thing I could think of was the stained glass windows in Canterlot, the brightly colored glass had reflected a similar way many times before. But why would stained glass be out here? Was somepony living out here? I had no idea.
I brought the telescope back up to my eye with my wing, my hoofs busy with the controls. But no matter how hard I squinted, I couldn't see the glint again. I must be too far past the sun now, but I still remembered where it roughly was. I dropped the telescope again and put my full attention back onto making best speed upwind.
2: The Approach and Landing
The approach was difficult. Extremely so. As I descended from the clean higher air I entered full force into the updrafts and turbulence downwind of the cliffs. If the ship was shuddering before, it was positively humming with tension as I wrestled to keep the sails close to the hull.
My whole body was busy keeping the ship in line. A hoof upon the wheel, my wings upon the controls, and the other hoof and my mouth reeling in line. It may have been hectic, but I was grinning through the rope. This is what I lived for. The wind rushing through my mane, the turbulence positively shaking the ship, this was living.
My goal was to end up right in the lee of the cliff where I saw the glint. The cliff ran north to south and if I got right up next to it, I should be shielded from the worst of the wind. The glint had been on the southern tip right on the highest portion. I suspected that I would be blasted by the wind once I got down there on wing proper. But thoughts of what I would do later were torn from my mind as the first tack demanded my full attention.
I loosened up the mainsail a few hoofs and mouths of line, just enough to feel the ship start to heel to windward and then I dove onto the wheel, spinning it as fast as I could to port, riding the momentum as It turned into the wind, the ship hestated, wanting to get stuck in irons, but I quickly yanked a control lever with my wings and the ship eased it way into a port tack. The boom whisked its way overhead as the ship settled onto its new heading, the tension returning with a shudder as I straightened the wheel and brought the sails back into form.
I grinned, one tack done, and, I surveyed the landscape ahead, maybe four or so left. With a moment of peace now obtained I freed a wing to grab the telescope once again. I knew I wouldn't be able to spot the glint again, the angle of the light wasn’t right, but I hoped to spot something else out there. I panned my view across the cliffs, my eye struggling to focus as the vibration of the ship shook the telescope through me. I spent a good thirty seconds searching, trying to spot anything else in that area that stood out, and it wasn’t until I was about to drop the telescope when something caught my eye. It wasn’t the saphire blue of the supposed stained glass from earlier, but I did see a portion of stone that was a far more matte and consistent stretch than any I had seen before. It really only stood out because of its regularity against the clutter of the rocks and gravel of the cliffs.
I frowned again. What was that? A weird shade of paint? I had no clue. Honestly as I thought more and more about what could be out there, I think I may have jumped to conclusions thinking this was a pony in distress. With that reconsideration, a lot of the urgency left my mind and for a moment I considered turning back to my course to the north, my sense of duty warring with my curiosity, but eventually the curiosity won out. I knew that day was going to be clear for a solid while. The storm last night, having almost guaranteed the lull of today was going to last. Or at least that's what I told myself, really, I was just curious. Curiosity killed the pegasus and all that.
With this set in my mind I continued my approach to the cliffs
The next three tacks went well, with only curiocity driving me now instead of the urgency of an emergency I took my time enjoying the ride through the winds. The skill involved keeping the grin on my face. I was planning to make my approach after the third tack, but the winds actually drifted north as I got into the lee of the cliffs so I was able to cut the last one out as I made a direct line towards the glint and weird stone’s location.
As the last few hundred lengths reeled themselves in, I locked the controls, then hopped to my hooves to start furling the mainsail as I didn’t need or want the extra speed as I got close. I quickly cranked the furler wrapping the sail around the boom and then tightened it up with a few straps before darting back to the controls, the ship now sailing on jib and mizzen alone.
The cliff in question now loomed high, blocking the sun and the brunt of the wind. With a twitch of my feathers I felt the wind ahead shifting even further north, the edge of the cliff tugging in the current to flow right along the surface. I adjusted the wheel to follow, the ship easing its way alongside the cliff.
Now comes the trickiest part. Landing the ship while within eight lengths of the rocks. I squinted and bit my lip as I juggled my attention between the sharp rocks off the starboard side and the sails above me. I brought the bow around as close into the wind as I dared, the sails luffing in irritation above me as their clean air was denied. The ship eased to a halt, for a moment almost sitting stationary alongside the cliffs, my tension building.Then with a slight groan it began to slide backwards with the wind and I yanked a level on the panel. With a loud twang the starboard anchor shot out at an angle towards the cliff, trailing line behind. It soared the last few lengths to the cliff and then with a loud clatter hooked around one of the large protruding rocks. I then shoved that same lever forward and with a clunk, the anchor lock activated and the line jerked to a stop.
The ship continued to drift backwards, my hooves busy on the controls governing the forward control vanes, keeping the ship straight as it backed. I closely watched the anchor line as the slack was taken up by the ship's motion, until with a light thrum, it stretched taught. The rock it was attached to shifted, a few pebbles bouncing down the cliff, but it held steady. And now with a solid anchor, the ship changed directions and swung starboard towards the flat cliff. A few moments later, now barely moving, the docking bumpers kissed the sheer rock wall and the ship finally came to a halt.
I sighed, my whole body sagging for a moment, the stress of the landing bleeding out of my hooves and into the deck, before a grin slipped back onto my face as I straightened, and started working to fully secure the ship to the cliff. This truly was what I lived for, pure skill, high stress, and a beautiful view, I added ruefully as I glanced over the side, the cliffs falling away below me.
My coat was positively itching to go explore the mystery further along the cliff, but I had business to attend to first. I furled and stowed the rest of the sails, leaving only a batten of the mizzen sail in the aft still aloft acting like an extra large air rudder to keep the ship in line with the wind and alongside the cliff. I also flew a few more smaller anchors and lines across, wrapping them around more sturdy rocks and the occasional larger tree. Now back to the ship I stowed a few more odds and ends, zeroed the controls and locked them tight. I gave everything one last once over, then grabbing my emergency ashore saddlebags just in case there was somepony after all, I leapt from the stern of the ship soaring towards the mystery of the mountains, an even wider grin plastered across my face.
