2 - Travel 1

C2 Travel 1

By N00813

  “Pack up!”

  Rolk’s voice pushed the team into action.  The black griffon’s own things were already in place, hanging from the chest area of the large harness that criss-crossed Spring’s body.  Gilda attached her satchel, a relatively small bag to the steel hoops on one side, whilst Tricks’ bag was hung on the other side.

  To her credit, the earth mare stood strong.  Her legs never shook from the strain of carrying so much.

  “Miss Dust?” Rolk asked, drawing Lightning out of her mindless gaping.

  She whirled her head around, eyes focusing on the black shape in front of her.  His rifle slung his back, inside an unassuming black box.

  Lightning blinked twice, then muttered, “Uh huh?”

  Rolk sighed.  “Take what you need from your house – and I mean only what you need.  Armour, weapons, money, sleeping bag if you need it.  We travel light, and we travel a lot.”

  Lightning was not averse to an adventure, but this seemed ridiculously risky, even to her.  “What if I need something, but forget to bring it?”

  “I pay you well enough for you to go out and buy them yourself.”

  Lightning nodded.  Fair enough, she supposed.  “So… where are we going.”

  “Your house, of course!”  Rolk smiled, drawing a flush and an awkward chuckle from the pegasus.  “But after that, Haysead.”

  He swept a hand, claws flashing, towards the doorway.

  They walked out of the inn in silence.  Gilda took up the front, with Tricks, whilst Lightning and Rolk walked alongside each of Spring’s hind legs.  In the daytime, the tavern was barely alive – everyone had gone home to vomit up their alcohol – so only the barkeep remained to glare at the lot of them.  Even in the daytime, though, the shadows ruled the inn.  Daylight couldn’t penetrate the dirty glass windows.

  “Rest of the payment, and key,” Rolk said, slapping down a pile of bits.  The bronze key rested at the top.

  The bartender simply nodded, grunted, and waved them out of the door.

  Rolk’s face flashed with a frown, before he took in a breath, and flapped his wings.  A dust cloud formed around him, eliciting groans from everyone else.

  They were in the outskirts of Dodge City.  In the distance, Lightning could see the shining speck that was Canterlot hovering on the side of a mountain.  To the east, she could pick up the first hints of green – the borders of the Haysead Forests.

  A caravan stood, wheels locked by glowing magical restraints, by the side of the entrance.  It was a tiny thing – one time, the side of it might have folded out onto a platform.  For what purpose, Lightning couldn’t tell.  But that didn’t matter.  The walls had been roughly sealed with excess amounts of epoxy.

  Rolk and Spring headed straight for the caravan.  The earth mare crept down, before popping back up with the yoke across her shoulders.  Rolk, meanwhile, helped clasp the yoke securely around Spring’s neck.

  Gilda and Tricks merely stood off to the side, waiting until Rolk hopped off Spring’s back, before unclipping their bags and tossing them into the door at the back of the caravan.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?”  Rolk stared at Lightning.  “Lightning, go and get your stuff.”

  “Please, just call me Dust,” Lightning said, shaking her head.  She would never get used to a merc talking to her by her first name.  This was just a business thing – remain on professional relationships, Lightning!

  “Alright, Dust!”

  Even as she rocketed away, her wings ripping through the air and the wind roaring in her ears, she could still hear her employer’s call taper off.

  Meanwhile, at the caravan, Rolk tapped the side of his head.  The earpiece hidden in his thick, interlocking head-feathers began to glow a faint blue.

  “Dust, this is Rolk.  We’re moving the caravan, up… up Forest track.  Meet us there.”

  Lightning nodded silently, before remembering that he couldn’t exactly see her.  “Yeah, I got that.  I’ll, er, just a moment.”

  “Right.”  The voice in her ear came back, clear as if he was talking next to her.  “Don’t take too long.”

  She ignored the implied threat in that.  Despite what she had signed up to do, they did all seem like reasonable people.

  Lightning’s house was a short, stout, one-storey affair that was built on a frame of wood and walled with pieces of corrugated iron, magically welded together by the local unicorn.  He’d charged a ridiculous amount for what seemed to her like an easy job.

  There weren’t any clouds around here to build a cloud home with, and the ones that passed were created from the Haysead of its own accord.  That meant they’d fall apart under the baking Dodge City sun, and she didn’t look forwards to having to spend an hour every day simply to patch up holes.

  Hell, maybe that was why she was assigned here.  Slacker City, the pegasi running the show in Cloudsdale called it.

  Inside, she didn’t bother with lighting the lamp hanging from a hook in the ceiling.  The harsh sunlight pouring through the open window would do nicely.  No one stole from her, here.  There was nothing of worth to steal.  She carried all her money – all the pitiful thousand bits she’d saved up over her five years – on her, in her saddlebags.  Letters from her family, sat piled up in a corner, ignored.  The last one was dated to about two months ago.  In the corner, she could see the dusty Wonderbolt uniform she’d bought from the Academy gift store…

  Dust looked at her namesake piling up onto the clothing.  Here, in Dodge, sand mixed with wind to become flaying storms at the worst of times, or inconveniences at the best.

  It was old history, Dust decided.  It was a part of her old life, before she gave into killing for a living.

  Dust didn’t even bother locking the door as she flew out, carrying a leather jacket and a small, blunt knife in her forelegs.

  She only had to fly for about ten minutes, barely breaking into a sweat, before she spotted the trundling caravan in front of a cloud of dust.  Four quadrupeds walked with it.  Yep, that was the one.

  She skidded to a stop in front of them, before assuming the trotting speed Spring was taking as she lugged the caravan.  Rolk glanced at her as she made a little cough.

  “I’ve got a knife, and some leather – fake substitute,” she said, the goods balanced on her back.

  Rolk nodded.  “You’re going to be an interceptor…”

  He hummed a bit, before smiling.  “Go to Gilda.  She can help you.”

  Dust shot a glance at the bigger, white-tawny griffon striding alongside Tricks.  The machete and crossbow bolts on Gilda’s chest glinted as they caught the sunlight, whilst the end of a stock – of a short, stubby  crossbow, most likely – stuck out of a bag slung over her back.

  Dust made a whimper, and Rolk chuckled.  “Don’t worry – she won’t kill you just for asking.”

  Dust merely glared at him for that comment.

  He shrugged.  “I’m a sniper.  I attack from range, I scout.  She does most of her work up close – like you will soon.  The better you two work together, the more likely both of you will come out alive.”

  “And Tricks?”

  “Tricks does decoys.  Magic.  Illusions.  She’s a unicorn, and you’re not.”

  “Thanks, I suppose,” Dust muttered, slinking off.

  Rolk merely rolled his eyes at that.

  Gilda had just finished a short chuckle with Tricks, before noticing a turquoise pegasus slow down to trot nearer to her.  For the shortest of moments, the image of a rainbow-maned, light blue pegasus layered itself over Dust’s body – but Gilda shook her head, and the image was gone.

  Gilda kept silent, looking out of the corners of her eyes as she strode on.  Tricks had also noticed, and fell silent, peering at Dust.

  So much for subtlety, Dust thought.  “Gilda?  Er, Rolk told me to go talk to you about”–

  “Weapons and armour.  Yeah, I thought he would,” Gilda sighed, a twitch forming in her eye.  This was taking her down memory lane a lot further than she’d have liked.  She reached into her clothing, and took a small grindstone out of her pocket.

  “Rub this against the blade of your knife.  Understand?”

  Dust bristled a bit, but she lowered her head, nodding.  Gilda tossed the little stone to her, and she caught it in her teeth.  Her eyes watered from the impact, but she shook them away.

  “Good.”  Gilda smiled.  “For armour, you wear your clothing.  It’ll be torn up in about a day and it won’t do much, but it’s better than nothing.”

  “So I might as well not wear anything for all the good it does me,” Dust growled, twisting around to put the stone on her back.  “Some help.”

  Gilda shrugged.  “Whatever, dude.  It’s your life.”

  “Fine.”  Dust looked around.

  The ground was now green and grassy, with little tufts of vegetation sprouting up from all around.  Directly ahead, the overgrown path stopped just before the treeline.  Deeper in, Dust could see nothing but darkness.

  Rolk held up a claw as they were taken into the embrace of the forest, and the team – with the exception of Lightning – sprang into action.

  Spring tugged the caravan to the side of the path.  The wheels sunk into the mud, but the mare just kept pulling nonetheless.  Squelches of displaced mud sounded out as the wheels tore up the wet earth.

  As soon as she stopped, Tricks and Gilda bundled into the caravan, before dragging their gear out in bags of touch-looking fabric.  Tricks turned, relocking the door and wheels with a series of spells from her horn, before turning to Rolk with a nod.

  Gilda sprung the crossbow from her bag.  The weapon’s arms sprang out, four wicked spokes that were crossed at the tip and at the ends with two taut steel strings.  She slotted a bolt into the holder, before nodding.

  Spring simply pawed at the clasp.  The mechanism fell apart, and she slipped out of the yoke with surprising agility for someone her size.

  Rolk took the rifle out from its box, before pulling back the bolt.  Grunting in satisfaction, he pushed the bolt back into place, before slinging the firearm over his shoulder and back.

  Lightning collected her equipment, fear creeping into her muscles.  These guys weren’t playing around, for sure.

  “All good?  Great!”  And with a jaunty nod and a faint smile, he leapt into the forest.

  Dust paused, but a shove from Gilda made her turn her head to glare at the griffon whilst her hooves plodded forwards.  Her wings flared out automatically for balance.

  Gilda’s head jinked back, and she shrugged.  “Fine.  Get lost in the jungle, it’s your own damn fault.”

  Dust continued to burn a hole in the back of Gilda’s head as she walked forwards, following her colleagues into the underbrush.

  The forest seemed to eat away at light.  Under the canopies of the ancient trees, shafts of sunlight were as rare as gold.  The smell of rotting vegetation, humus and what she suspected was animal faeces wormed their way through her nostrils, leaving her gagging slightly and scrunching her nose.  Animal hissing, howling and chittering replaced the whisper of the wind.

  Two sky-blue eyes blinked into existence to her right.  She gasped, leaping backwards, and twisting her head.  The handle of her knife seemed to slip as her teeth brushed by it.  She swore, forelegs lashing out–

  Rolk’s light, breathy chuckle found its way into her ears.  She stopped, wings spread wide as she balanced on her hind legs.

  The black griffon seemed to coalesce from the shadows of the forest.  Behind him, Spring’s massive bulk was hidden by the forest undergrowth, with only her eyes peeking out like glimmering white crystals.

  Lightning continued to gasp, adrenaline coursing around her body.

  “Spring will stay behind, keeping tabs on the caravan,” Rolk muttered, turning to Gilda and Tricks.  In the dense darkness, a pair of amber eyes and a pair of violet eyes, each surrounded by shadowy shapes, stared back.  “Standard stuff.”

  “Right, Dust,” he continued, “I’ll fill you in on our current job.”