Shattered Souls

Shattered Souls
Ch. 4: Tired Souls

Opal's eyes drifted open. The morning sun rose behind her, exposing the blotted ash stains that lingered on her faded gray coat and her short blue mane, left haggard by the night's winter winds. The cold and dry air stung her eyes, which were puffed and bloodshot from the chaos of the night before.

However long she shut her eyes, she could not get more than an hours sleep through the night, only managing minutes at a time. It did not help that she knew there were beasts of ash and fire roaming in the town.

Thankfully, the creatures had not left the town, though they made sure that there was little more than small cinders and piles of ash where any of the buildings had been. Most of the buildings. The frame of Hammerspark's house was still standing, casting a eerie, skeletal shadow over the town, what was left of the siding and roof clinging to the sides like short shredded wisps of gray cloth.

It was the nightmares, though, that wracked her to the core. Faces of the ponies and valley dogs that she once lived next to swam through a sea of fire, melting and crumbling into ash, their screams fading into the crackle of the flames. Every time she drifted to sleep, the visions back into her head. Try as she might she could cry no more; her eyes long dry of tears, and her body too numb to sob.

She looked around for a moment. The blanket that she had used to carry Hammerspark out of the town had been pulled over her. She looked at Hammerspark, wondering when he had been conscious enough to move it. They were lying close between the small hills, but she had only covered him. His greater size demanded that the entire blanket would be needed to cover him up, but he had shifted it to cover her as well, exposing his right side to the cold air.

She stood up slowly, sliding out from under the blanket, trying not to wake him.

She turned as she was about to leave, deciding to pull the blanket back over Hammerspark. The day was cold, even after the hellfire of the day before. He still needed to recover. She leaned over Hammerspark and clenched the edge of the blanket with her teeth, drawing it back over him.

She walked cautiously through the tall grass, crouching low as she stepped forward slowly. Those things could still have been out there, and she did not want to find out if she could outrun one.

* * * * * *

Opal leaned on the remains of a cottage wall, trying to breath as soft as she could. She knelt down so she could peer around the corner. Though the ground was hard and cold, she took comfort in the small break from running from one piece of scattered debris to another. It hurt her knees more than she thought it would, keeping herself low to the ground and silent whilst moving.

She inched forward, stretching her neck forward to see around the corner.

There seemed to be no more of those creatures, but what she did see was even more horrifying. The charred remains of a pony lie in the street, one unfortunate enough not to be completely incinerated from the heat.

Opal brought herself back behind the wall. She shut her eyes tight, trying to pull the image out of her mind, but it still lingered. It's body was burnt beyond any distinction of gender, its charred flesh shrunken down into its bones. It was frozen into its last movement, posed dragging itself along the road. It's eyeless sockets stared out, it's mouth stuck in an eerily silent cry of pain.

Whatever Hammerspark had done the night before no longer bothered her; these things were monsters, not even capable of mercy.

She shook her head, focusing her breath to calm herself. She knew that the corpse itself was not dangerous, but her heart still pounded in her ears. Her heart slowed and she opened her eyes again.

She stood up silently, careful not to show herself from behind the broken wall. She checked the wall on the other side, seeking another route into the town, but spaces between the ruined houses were too large and too empty, and the rubble there was too short to offer any concealment.

She turned back to the side facing the road. She looked out again, more sure of herself this time. She scanned the road ahead of her, purposefully avoiding looking at the charred remains in the middle of the street.

The nearest cover would take her directly past the body.

She steadied her gaze on the caved in remains of a roof beyond before lowering herself for a quiet run. Holding her breath, she set herself into a silent run, her knees aching as she kept her body level.

She cringed as she passed, but held long to sprint into place. She took in a quick breath, but overpowering scent of blackened flesh assaulted her nose and lungs, prompting a violent, but thankfully silent, gag. She choked down the bile in her throat as her eyes watered from the smell.

She looked forward, searching for another piece of debris or a ruined house. So far, there were no more of those creatures. Unfortunately, there did not seem to be anypony else alive after last night.

She still had to look, though. She still had to hope that at least one pony, or valley dog, had survived the ordeal.

She lowered herself, ready to move to the shadow of another scrap of rubble. This was going to take a long time.

* * * * * *

Duurt scratched his way out of his shallow tunnel, which had become caved in with now cold cinders. He pulled himself up from the ground, turning back to pick up the shovel that was embedded in the small hole. It was uncomfortable sleeping through the night with his back on the knob of the hard wooden handle, and covered with a blanket of ash, but it was better than being found by those strange fire beasts.

He stretched, cracking the joints in his knuckles and his neck. The force from the explosion left his muscles sore and stiff. He had fixed the boilers, sort of, but then those damned fire things had overheated them just by being near them.

He chuckled to himself, crawling out of the crater that had once been his coffee shop. He could not help but laugh. The explosion had buried the creature in earth and already burnt rubble. Duurt had dug himself a full body length into the ground, and had seen the creature starve itself of air in panic while he sat safely in his hole.

A daemon of fire destroyed by its own explosion.

He crept up towards the edge, leaning on his left side. The right side of his face and arm stung with the cold morning air, the warped and blackened furless portions of flesh still raw from the scalding waters of the night before. Across the street he saw the slightest flicker of shadow flit out from behind a pile of debris.

He pulled himself out of the blackened ash of the shallow crater, planting his legs. He grasped the shovel defensively in front of him. He was not sure whether or not his shovel would do anything to those fire things, but he knew he was not going to just sit in the hole, the ruined remnants of his basement.

He stood still, opening his ears.

A soft rustle of gravel came from behind that same piece of rubble.

“Oi!” He called out, “Show ye'self!”

* * * * * *

Opal's ears perked up as a familiar voice called out from down the road. She leaped out from the shadows, disregarding the lack of cover, launching into a sprinting cantor.

No longer paying any mind to how difficult it was to notice her or how close by those fire things were, she bowled into Duurt with a gleeful squee.

“Thank Celestia!” She exclaimed, backing up, looking up at Duurt, “I thought they had killed. . .”

She turned her head, looking around for anything else. This was barely twenty paces from where the town well was, but there was no sign of anypony else. The town hall was in ruins, caved in on itself, and all that was left of Duurt's coffee house was a wide, shallow crevice.

“Did anypon. . . .did anyone else survive?,” She asked, looking back at him. As much as her eyes had lit up a few moments prior, it stung Duurt; how much they had darkened.

“No,” He shook his head, looking down, “I dug a hole inta ma' basement floor. Then ma house es'ploded.”

She turned her head around slowly, carefully examining the rubble, simultaneously hoping that anyone else had survived and that the creatures had left.

“Hammerspark's safe,” She said, starting to turn west down the road, “He's sleeping next to one of those small hills to the east.”

Duurt picked up his wide spade and rested it on his shoulder, and follwed her, walking a few steps to the side of her.

“I need to know where those things went before anything else,” She said, looking between the buildings as she passed them. “I don't know what to do, but I know I don't want to run into those things again.”

The two of them walked towards the western edge of the town. The silence was thick, but neither of them really wanted much to speak. They tread more carefully as they stalked towards the end of the town, gaining more and more caution with each step forward.

As the two of them crept behind a shattered stone wall, the remains of what had used to be the town inn, Opal peered out from the side carefully, holding her breath.

In the distance, she could see two of the three fire creatures from the night before. Flames danced around them, scorching every blade of grass in their way as the light of the sun intensified into a harsh glare near them.

They shrunk in the distance, heading towards distant needle on the horizon to the north; Canterlot.

* * * * * *

Hammerspark stepped slowly back into town. His hooves were heavy and his legs where sore, but he was awake now. He headed back towards his house, looking for anything that he might need along the way. Unfortunately, anything of use had been turned to ash in the blaze.

Hopefully, he thought to himself, some of his equipment was as sturdy as his house.

He strode in through where the wide, barn-styled doors would have been. The broad stone base below him was littered with the ash and splinters of parts of the now incinerated roof.

He took a quick look over what was left. Admittedly, it was not as much as he had hoped for. His horn glowed as he levitated a length of rope and lowered it into a wide bucket, along with four empty canteens that he had created a few weeks back and a a small knife. He scanned over the debris, but there was little else left. Except for the armor he had forged, whose black shell had not even been marred by the heat of the beasts.

He tried lifting the overlarge smithy bucket with his magic, but the most he could manage was a small spark and a dull thud as it fell back down into the ashes.

He cringed in pain, his head recoiling as hot knives of pain squeezed into his temples.

He was as good as without magic, but he knew there was no way they were getting anywhere without supplies. Opal was gone by the time he had woken from his wholly uncomfortable sleep, but the knew she would be back.

He left his house out onto the road, looking for a something that he could carry the things they needed in.

* * * * * *

Opal and strode back towards the remains of Hammerspark's home, both surprised at what they had seen. Surprised, but not shocked. Not much could shock them after the past couple of days.

Opal stopped her light trot, hearing a clang come out from behind the rubble of a building. It sounded again, as a pan rolled out from behind the half fallen wall. Curious, she walked wide around the side to see.

It was Hammerspark, collecting what seemed to be dishes from the rubble. Mostly heavy iron pots with tight lids.

“What are you doing?” She asked as she walked up to look into the bed of a short, broad wagon.

Hammerspark whipped his head to the side, flinging a sack full of apples into the back of the cart.

“We have to go somewhere, so I figured we should be prepared”

He continued packing supplies into the wagon.

Duurt walked up beside him and place his shovel next to everything else, “Good plan.”

Opal understood they had to leave, but was unsure, “Umm, it's good that you're prepared and all, but where are we going?”

Hammerspark shrugged, moving to the front of the cart, fitting his head into the thick, padded shoulder harness.

Duurt made a similar motion, “I dunno', but sure as 'ell not to Canterlot.”

Hammerspark paused at that.

“That changes things.”

“Are you alright?” Opal asked. She knew he still had family there. Surely they would be worried about them.

“The guards of Canterlot can hold their own,” Hammerspark said, turning back, “But we don't know if those things are the only things moving against them.”

Duurt nodded his head, understanding what Hammerspark was thinking.

“I dunno’ how long they can take a siege either,” He looked back to Opal, “They’re going to need some ‘elp. Fancy a trip north?”